#i was looking for the old mp3 player i had when i was around 5 or 6. its gone sadly but i Did find this. i used to think it was so scary | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hecatombi · 1 year ago

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001. MISC. PHYSICAL HEADCANONS

(( here is a bunch of miscellaneous physical headcanons i have about the guys, going from the ones with the least changes to the most! Vash and Chai .. are going to have a lot more due to the nature of my insane fixation on them. ))

👇THIS IS A LONG ASS POST! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.👇

ASH WILLIAMS

Ash has five different prosthetic hands, and several chainsaw stumps to attach to his hand.

He prefers to keep his hair as swoopy and voluminous as he had it in army of darkness ( even old ash. sorry ihate his slick combed back look )

GARY GOODSPEED

Gary naturally has heterochromia and blue + brown eyes, but after his possession by invictus, they are a striking bright pink. and it's permanent! Here's a ref i drew of him with them.

Post invictus, he grows his hair out and wears a far more complicated outfit. Like the concept art for the FS graphic novel.

JOSEPH JOESTAR

On top of having a prosthetic right arm, Joseph ALSO has a prosthetic left leg. This is because of the fact that LAVA HIT HIS KNEE CAP IN THAT FINAL BATTLE WITH KARS THERE IS NO WAY THAT DIDN'T DESTROY IT BEYOND REPAIR!!!!! So, double amputee.

When he is upset or mad, Joseph's hand clicks and wriggles around every joint independantly, and it is typically the only tell that he's angry or upset in any way if he's trying to hide the fact.

Joseph's arm was made by the SPW. not. who they're from in canon. <:) On top of that, it has several different functions, and a different appearance from canon. There are 5 star shaped buttons on it with varying uses. I.. still need to decide them, though.

He is NEVER ever seen without the remaining burnt headband of Caesar's. Ever. A common stim he has is twirling the ends of it.

CHAI

Now, i have a big ol' about page coming for Chai soon, but let's start here.

To get things out of the way; Chai has HORRIFICALLY poor vision. He refuses to get glasses though, because he is certain it makes him look like a nerd. He really, REALLY NEEDS THEM though. He's more farsighted.

Chai always had arrhythmia and other heart defects before his surgery at Vandelay. On top of that, he did not have mobility in his left arm at all, which is why he went in for the arm surgery. They told him they'd help with his heart too, but ...

.. the MP3 player + core replaced his heart entirely. And also gave him top surgery for free, even though he'd been too poor to afford it, as his breasts got in the way of the core. However, his top scars are more than just that; there are thick scars, branding him with the vandelay logo down his entire torso, becauuuuse...

His insides and organs had to be reworked to physically accept such a drastic change to his body. I'm talking moved around, and more than just his heart and arm replaced with robotics.

He straight up is an eldritch, terrifying mess of organs and wires in there. He doesn't know how much of him is robotic and how much is organic anymore. I draw this from the factt hat when electrocuted, Chai's skeleton shows up -- but his skeleton also includes the magnetic waste management tool in his arm, as well as the fact that the things he survives physically NOBODY ELSE CAN. AT ALL. like jesus christ he is somehow so resilient to things literally nobody else in game is under the same circumstances. Also, his body and brain can be hacked directly from his arm. You can't do that with organics, only tech.

So... that's why I think he's more robot than person now. Or cybernetic, if you want to get technical. W/e

His life span has been extended by an unknown amount, and he will age significantly slower if at all due to this change in his body. Oh, and the outer shell of the arm is made of a compound that is not metal. Dont know what it is, but it's still just as strong and durable.

It is possible for Chai to sync with other robotic beings in the same way he synced with 808( his cat ); you have a 50/50 chance of hearing the music that always plays in his head forever, like 808 now does, OR hearing the world moving to a musical beat for the rest of your life. Until he dies, anyways -- if / when he does.

His music core is shown to thump and beat like a heart, and if it pounds hard enough, it's enough to jerk his chest and cause him to get a little dazed-- it's definitely uncomfortable when it thumps so hard. I think he watches it cause he's nervous if his heart is fucking up or something, given that was a BIG health anxiety his entire life. Only 808 managed to snap him out of it, as you can see here.

Speaking of that, post surgery? He LITERALLY can not process anything beyond music and beat he can not hear. For the rest of his life, he will always move to a beat nobody can hear; the environment makes music around him; you can see in this example here how everything in the environment and even his own movements fall largely to the beat of the song. See the video below for an example of this.

youtube

He will never be able to hear or see the world regularly again. Not that Chai minds; he LOVES music. Adores it, even. He'd be happy to live with this the rest of his life. Which is good, cause he really has to.

He picked up cat tendencies from 808 when they synchronized, just as 808 picked up chai mannerisms ( like the way he fights & love of rock and roll ). They often mirror each other because Chai is influencing 808's expression more than you'd think! They pretty much share a single braincell now.

And, to close it all off; the surgery also gave him insane durability, as already discussed.. but it ALSO gave him nuts dashing techniques, and an ability to jump to a ridiculous degree. He's a very sturdy man now!

VASH SAVEREM

Vash only LOOKS human, but as we know, he certainly ISNT. He's a Plant; an independant variety, which is exceedingly rare. Plants are strange fusions of literal plants, angels, and mechanical blueprints that all meld together to make a more techno-organic being.

Because he only LOOKS human, I have PLENTY of hc's about his body and form and how they actually differentiate from your typical human.

First and foremost; he's trans. ALL plants are born female, no exceptions, as said by canon; which makes vash canonically trans. Pretty cool, right? but, in canon, where he doesn't have this -- he has plant private parts ( flower based ) and one of his breasts left. He has no desire to bind or for top surgery, as his chest is small anyways -- but he lost one of them a long time ago. More about the state of his body later, but this is important to still note.

Now, his teeth. He has fangs that he has filed down to look smaller, but they are still pretty sharp. His teeth are NOT defined like a humans; it's like .. kind of a solid plate of metal for bone? Teeth? With only vague outlines of where they should separate.

His eyes are an unnatural piercing blue, which we already know; however, the reason he wears those big orange glasses may surprise you! They're actually marksman glasses, which are known to be orange; however, they also serve as a neutralizer to his eyes. If you look at his glasses head on, through them, his eyes look like a neutral blue-gray. However, if you take off his glasses, they're still a BRIGHTLY inhuman blue.

And yes, they glow in the dark.

In BLUE and UV LIGHT specifically, his plant marks will show no matter what. Though, in blue light, they're much fainter / mostly in the eyes ( and they make them glow as you see in the example below ), while in UV all light patterns are exposed. When he heals plants, these also become pretty visible -- but if he has too use TOO much of his angelic power, one of two things could happen.

He goes comatose and unresponsive for a short while; blank stare, unable to react or process anything around them. Sometimes he can snap out of it, sometimes he can't. It really depends.

His hair will brown or blacken. If you know what this means, have a gold star! If you don't, this means he is ACTIVELY shortening his life span and using too much of his power at once. When a plant's hair browns or blackens, it means they no longer have limitless energy.

Side note; since we see that since birth, Vash has had BROWN EYEBROWS ( whereas all plants are born with blonde hair and blonde eyebrows, and blue eyes, NO MATTER WHAT ); i have a headcanon that because Nai is based on a toxic albino plant that was never meant to live in the reboot, he subconciously saved Nai at birth. He was always the stronger twin in terms of health, where Nai was sicker.

Also .. despite his glasses being pretty normal marksman glasses, he can do this thing where he reflects everything in the environment BUT his eyes subconciously; it's a big tell that he's trying to stay distant and not let people read his next expressions. He often does this to distance himself or when he's being vague. It happens a bunch in moments specifically where he does that in show, so im adopting that as a little weird plant quirk he can do. Call it manipulation of light and reflection, I suppose, since he IS a plant...

He's way taller than he looks. He will keep continuously growing for the rest of his life til a certain point, to which his true height would be around 9 ft to 10 ft tall at the least when in humanoid form. However, as of right now, he is 7'5 in his natural body. Here's the fun part though; he actually SHIFTS HIS BONES and condenses his weight and appearance to look more humanlike, but that still leaves him at a hefty 6'5. Even despite this effort to appear smaller and more unassuming, due to the poor nutrition on Gunsmoke, nearly every human is much, much smaller than him. Unless they've been genetically and unethically modified, of course. Then they can get fucking giant . But, nobody matches his height on an average basis there.

when he's in his full 7'5 ( and growing!! ) form, his limbs are gangly, and too long. His eyes look Bigger, and his skin a little bluer; his fingertips get elongated with a black gradient like all his plant sisters. Example here.

His angel arm is something he does not bring out due to a great deal of trauma with that and knives; he does not have access to a full plant angel form. What he DOES have access to is a gigantic angel arm, and three pairs of wings; parts of his body transform into an eldritch mechanical angel kind of being, but not all of his body can. This is because of his twin, Nai / Knives having the other half. Had Nai never existed, Vash would have full access to his plant angel form. He is one of the most powerful plants of his kind with said angel arm, but ... he'd sooner kill himself than ever use it. There'sa a whole rant i have about how he feels having been forced to have it out, but .. that's for later.

Now, for this paragraph, heads up for y'all for mentions of starvation and body dysmorphia, over all bad condition of a body. The next red text you'll see is where discussion of this stops. as is pretty heavily established, Vash has a great deal of body dysmoprhia. He is absolutely letting his body fall apart at the seams, and frequently punishes himself for "failing" to protect people by starving himself, despite needing it to survive / have energy and heavily enjoying food. That is why he's so damn scrawny! Which is unfortunate, but he has so so many complexes ( shout i make a separate infodump about this too? ) tht this is just par for the course. Now, he could heal the scars and shit on his body faster if he wanted to, but he's pretty self conscious about it. He will let any humans hurt him if he deems it justified, and unforch, he usually does. He lets them beat him senseless, cut him up, shoot him -- nothing he couldn't survive, anything goes. his body is straight up canonically barely held together by thick staples and grates of metal over exposed muscle.

This is part of why he never takes off his coat, ever. Or those long sleeved shirts of his. I mean, he might to shower or clean up wounds, but...... very rarely does he do this. He just takes whatever beating humans give him cause he feels he deserves it, and deals with it.

Warning over!

With all the heavy stuff said, here's a few final short hcs.

He photosynthesizes some, and really enjoys basking in the sun.

He's a very light sleeper and rarely ever gets decent sleep. He's pretty much always exhausted, but never lets it show.

CAN'T EVER LISTEN TO CLASSICAL MUSIC. it puts him into SERIOUS triggered mode and gets him too panicked to think straight, even after Nai / Knives died.

His hair looks like normal hair, but it absolutely DOES NOT feel like it. It feels like really soft velvety flower petals, and will always keep this consistency.

He's got inhumanly amazing marksmanship, yet somehow, being drunk ( should he ever GET drunk ) improves it more. Yes, I stole this bit from 98 vash but i think it's funny and it's my interpretation so this is what i keep. ok? :)

And lastly ...

He stims by reloading and loading guns :3

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed! Should I make a part 2 sometime? :p

#oops. i accidentally spent all day on this ... ahahaha #* fuckboy lip bites *#╰┈➤ 🎸 [ STUDY ] chai #╰┈➤ 🚀 [ STUDY ] gary #╰┈➤ 🪓 [ STUDY ] ash #╰┈➤ 🌿 [ STUDY ] vash #╰┈➤ 🌟 [ STUDY ] joseph

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frilly2023 · 10 months ago

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🥹 😰 Frilly's Fright - Part 1 💘 🫅🏼 🥀

Genre: Fantasy Horror

Chapter 1 - Finding Land

This is a story centered for Frilly and Andy [Ryoo,] or Andre Rieu the classical musical conductor, who is French from the Netherlands.

Frilly is 20 years old, well out of school and old enough to consider teaching herself. Andy is 50. He had her when he was 30, but she still feels like she’s just starting out as his little baby, usually.

She is sitting on the plane with the rest of his orchestra, choir, and solo singers. She is sitting on his lap and feeling anxious today. She has with her a little MP3 player to listen to Brandenburg Concerto 1, 3, and 5, especially today, but it’s in her cute drawstring bag which is pretty big and can be strapped onto her. She would rather talk, to him.

“Here, my little honey,” he said to her, tenderly holding the back of her hair, “You need to eat, now, so you don’t fall asleep, hungry!!”

He feeds her some beef sticks, as she crosses her eyes in the end and he pats her to sleep in him.

When they land, he carries her out with her bag and pretty clothes that say a lot on her. He rubs her and tells her to go back to sleep and holds onto her head since she doesn’t kiss in public. He hugs her legs into him with her shoes dangling. She has strapped on her wrist a stuffed animal that’s made up that’s so cute with a long nose that points up and a long tail. It’s light brown with beautiful blue eyes like her.

“Can I buy something to eat in the airport?” she asked, as he held her, standing and walking around.

“Yes,” he said, firmly to her looking at her crossing their eyes, for her.

“I can get down, thanks so much!” she said and ran off and bought her food, the little girl she was for a young adult at 20.

She ran back soon after squealing and cried, “Ah! There’s some aliens coming.” Everyone stood still as they saw the approaching smoke or steam and flashing lights.

Suddenly, all were in a land sweet as candy and light and happy like butterflies and flowers and fish floating around the ocean. The plane appeared and all ran over to it and got inside. Someone said, “Let’s try to fly this thing, now!” The aliens were not far behind.

“It’s our only chance,” someone else said, another man.

“Can anyone fly?” someone shouted, to which no one responded. Anyway, the aliens could not get in.

Finally, the aliens left. More people from the airport came and more planes appeared. Someone came around and taught people what to do and assigned pilots.

Chapter 2

Alas, the dusk was coming in, and all the planes connected and took off at once and for hours they were hovering in air over lands of unseen beauty as all looked out in awe feeling wonderful. Some of them hugged and smiled looking so happy together with one another and waved at each other with beaming faces.

Frilly came over and sat on Andy who hugged her and put her to sleep in his lap rubbing her as she slept and stroking her hair lovingly and with his strong hands and grip.

Suddenly, it gets all dark blue, sparkling and with twinkling lights like the dust of a fairy’s world up in the sky, stuck and shimmering, moving and shifting around some.

There were pink wisps of wind flying by and you could hear the breeze whistling it was so loud outside and without the motor of the plane interfering like interference.

Sometimes, it got very dark and deep blue, and you could see things glowing against it very brightly, some very small and sometimes clouds or formations almost of water swirling around, warbling and bouncing, making you hungry like you just wanna go into it yourself and live there and figure it out forever if you can. You wanna be you forever.

They flew over distant lands and saw cottages of many happy dainty people with animals that live in the forest. They talked to each other asking where to land. They decided to settle in the Netherlands.

They all landed a little ways away from the edge of the shore, that way they could at least take off if anything happened or for convenience even just to return home in time for the next concert for the orchestra.

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desn2steph · 1 year ago

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Week 8 - items list and desc v1

List of things for design research

------ PS3 & PSVITA: My Introduction to Videogames

Videogames - they quite possibly changed the trajectory of my life. I might have become a biologist or pursued something considered 'more important,' but videogames led me down a more creative path. Is this a bad thing? No. I'm in the field of design because of videogames; they've nurtured my creative inclinations. I'm even writing this essay because of videogames.

Recently, a videogame inspired a shift in my approach to interaction design. I used to find interaction design uninspiring. However, that changed when I played 'Persona 4: Golden' and 'Persona 5.' These games made me realize that Interaction design doesn't have to be boring. Interaction design doesn't have to remain the same bleak thing over and over again. Which I find the industry right now is encouraging.

CDs: An Inspiration from Music

Music is a tremendous source of inspiration for me, serving as a driving force behind my design work. My earlier design projects were heavily influenced by music, and these CDs and vinyl records stand as symbols of my deep passion for it.

Back when I was a kid, during the days when I used to download MP3 files onto my phone, mere music wasn't enough for me. I wanted an album cover to accompany the music. If a file lacked an album cover, I would painstakingly add one using MP3 file editing software. This connection between the album cover and the music held significant importance for me. I believed that the album cover should offer a preview of what the music would sound like.

While most of my music experience nowadays revolves around MP3 players and music streaming apps, I've to buy CD’s and Vinyl because of the experience that it comes with when holding a record or a cd. It comes with posters, liner notes, lyrics and just having something solid on your hands and putting it in a record player or a CD player is an experience by itself that cant be replicated by a music streaming service. So here I have chosen to share to you my collection rather than a phone with Spotify on it

Gaming Laptop. I do everything on my gaming laptop. I Work on this gaming laptop, I game on this gaming laptop, I design on this gaming laptop and I “live” on this gaming laptop. Though it is not perfect but this gaming laptop is mine. I wish it was lighter, I wish it had better battery life, I wish, It had more storage space but this gaming laptop is mine.

This gaming laptop also represent my internet footprint and my internet identity. Im a kid that existed in video games and the internet. Unlike previous designers, if someone is a fan

Those Notebooks.

These notebooks archive some of my old drawings. Before I was really into graphic design and choosing to pursue it as my career. I was character designer by heart that means before designing posters I was designing characters, the clothes they wear, how they look like, what they are and who they are that was what I was designing. This notebook also includes the early drawing of my own personal brand called “Max Stookie”. Max Stukie is my artist’s name. the music I create, the art that I create, and the character designs are all from an artist Max Stukie. While Max Stukie and me are the same person. I keep all the professional stuff and graphic design as myself and Max Stukie represent the more creative hobbies and illustrator side of me. These notebooks also represent him.

So, yes when I was a kid around 13 years old, I was already designing.

The Holy Bible.

Though the Holy Bible had little visual influence in my design directly, I think I can easily say it has influenced the whole way I think about things overall. As a Christian this book is important to me because its what guides me in life and what to do.

Biblical stories and Catholic art have always inspired me. the holy visions and trying to achieve greatness for the glory of God is a great force that pushes me to go further and further.

When I do work, I sometimes think about my actions will this action I’m about to do glorify God? Will this work I will create show my faith in him? If no, I do my best to avoid it. There already have been instances of commissions I had to turn down because I believe it was against my principles.

============

Casio F-91W

This watch keeps me humble in a era drowned by technology. Casio helps me disconnect rather than buying a watch that is always connected I choose the humble Casio F-91W to always be by my side through work and through leisure. This watch represents my refusal to join the world that is always connected to the internet. Though I don’t hate smart watches I just feel like for me personally being 24/7 connected has already affected my life negatively, I don’t want another piece of technology that will tie me up to the internet.

Casio F-91W also represents another side of me, the side of me that misses the older world, or nostalgia. If you knew me or have seen how I have composed this poster you can tell that I still cling on to “outdated” aesthetics. Like ascii or the consolas font. Again, I believe todays trendy design is too bleak and too corporate. Nothing has a soul anymore unlike the designs of the past (or maybe this is just my nostalgia goggles glued in a bit to tight). This watch represents the joyful past, and the edgier aesthetics of y2k. everything just feels a bit too safe these days and designed to sell a product. No one is jumping across the line to achieve something cool, fun or most importantly groundbreaking. Posters that makes me go “woahhh that’s cool” are rare these days. I salute to those spacemen who pursue designs that are controversial in the eyes of mainstream.

================================================================== Printer.

my humble home printer. The printer is the designer’s best friend and worst enemy, specifically this printer though? Its only my worst enemy. If I had to print something of quality I will not use this printer, but for low quality? This printer…. Does its job. this printer most important feature to me is the scanner. The scanner works well but I hater the fact that I have to log in just to use it, yes, log in to my HP DESK JET account just to SCAN! But because this is the most easily accessible printer and the only one I have at the moment I have to make do.

I had a long relationship with printer before my UX/UI class, printers were my primary source of aesthetic. During my high school years, I would use the scanner to break an image, print it and keep scanning it till it comes out all Janky and messed up. This was where my post-digital roots started. when my design teacher Mr Kearny introduced me to post-digital my reliance to the printer doubled. I believe the printer was the portal from the digital to physical and by tampering that portal we achieve something destroyed and messed up, a bad print job is both human error and printer error. The verry essence of the post-digital aesthetic, nothing is perfect. even if you designed the perfect printer, human input will make the output possibly imperfect

======= Pen

As they say, the pen is mightier than a sword. This good ol ball point pen represents the most basic tool a designer will be using. The mighty pen. Regardless of what kind of designer you are or even what field of career you’re in the pen will be a trusty tool you will be needing.

I have used a pen for most of my designs. I plan everything on a piece of paper then draw it using an ink pen. An ink pen is permanent, forces you to be more careful and forces you to accept those mistakes, and sometimes those mistakes will be an essential part of your design, and that’s a wisdom that I believe in. even though I already own a apple pen and an Ipad the classic pen will never be outside of my toolset for creation.

The pen is a tool to create drafts, plans, stories, sketches and even a bored buster. The pen will never die the pen will live forever. I think even if technology advances to a point that having a digital table with a pen is cheap and accessible. I believe the mighty pen will be used forever.

Bass Guitar

Have I mentioned to you yet how I love music. other than visual design I also create music and I don’t create music, I design music. just like visual design, or UX/UI design, music also has to be designed, it’s an experience, it tells a story or a message. Obviously, you don’t just write music or tell a story as it is through music, no. you must pick the parts of the story that is important that you can fit into a song, what instruments and timbre does this song need? How long will it be and what will be my goal? What will be the audience reaction to this song, and how will create this song? Though these rules are arbitrary these days because really, what is music?

As I mentioned on previously, I’m very musically driven person. Sometimes I feel like I have an ability to translate music into digital design and vice versa, this is my design superpower.

I’ve chosen this bass to represent that part of me, though I have other musical instruments I could have shown you, I chosen the bass guitar because of the visuals I have attached to it. The memories and the fact it’s the first instrument I picked up.

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Wallet.

It’s simple really, MONEY MOVES. I’m probably more inclined to do work if you pay me a reasonable amount compared to doing something that is volunteer work. MONEY MOVES, I moved to UX/UI design because I believe I can make more money from this career.

MONEY MOVES.

IPAD

This is my iPad represent Max Stukie the character designer and illustrator part of me. this is one of my more important hobbies that I have been doing as a kid. It’s a more laid back and relaxed type of design because simply put it, its fun! This is the design I’ve been doing even before I even knew what design meant.

Max Stukie isn’t just a brand I made. Its also me, It’s the creative side of me and it’s the rebellious teenage side of me that still stuck inside. I fear the day that I have to let go of Max is the day I lose my creative youth. His creativity really pushed me to go further and explore creative areas that I have not explored. Max Stukie pushed me to find an aesthetic that I can stand on, and through this creative research that max Stukie has pushed me to do I finally understood how I want to represent my self in a the community of designers.

This is who I am, I choose these IDs to represent me. Who I am, what I stand for and what I believe in. these questions were a difficult thing for me, around 2021 I was asking this question for the first year of university as part of our concertina, because I realized I never really asked who I am. I always though “who I am is who I am|” but really it isn’t that simple. Only recently have I slowly understood myself, what I am, what I stand for and what principles I believe in. Alexander Hamilton once said, “Those who stand for nothing, fall for anything” and I believe that. I thank the people who pushed me to understand myself even more and through that understanding of self I have chosen something firm to build my house on.

Traffic Cone

The humble Traffic cone is a important figure in my history of design. at one point in time I had a weird obsession with traffic cone, first started as a gimmick in my Instagram stories and it devolved into taking as much photos of traffic cones as possible. Traffic cones represents the design principles I believe in, the ideas of grit and mess of it; The clean orderly industrial design forged in a factory, so each one is the same; the orange and Hi-Viz that demands the audience’s attention and most often the controlled chaos that it comes with it when they’re in use with a group. Most importantly the light that shines the darkness.

Coffee

The working mans drink. If music drives my creativity, then coffee drive me literally. I get migraines when I don’t drink my coffee, I don’t work as well if I don’t have my coffee. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m dependent to coffee and I will suffer without it. I need to design with coffee, and I get mental clarity and focus with it. My ideas shine and flows when I’m boosted by caffeine, but sometimes you might get ideas of a schizophrenic man.

Idea of dependency to caffeine haunts me, because in my personal principles I prefer not to be dependent on any substance, but coffee has gotten a hold of me and the society around me. Is there something wrong with it? No, I wish not to be dependent to it.

95bFM poster

95bFM has served me well allowing me to experiment my ideas with an actual outside audience watching, I’m like an intern there. 95bFM supports the ideas that I follow of a music driven station., Its not about the money (kind of) but it’s about sharing the great works of local musician and I’m all for that. This volunteer gig I’m doing with them allows me to improve and get used to an office like environment because other than doing graphic design with them. I also get to do news for them which also allows me to have a greater understanding of the world around me, because I literally have to find and read news to write about, through this greater knowledge I can extrapolate world news into my overall designs and creation.

I believe every little thing can inspire a design even world news that has nothing to do with anything design related. like a butterfly effect it can push little things in my mind and create something with it, create stories, create visuals, create chaos and deeper understanding not only with the world and the object I’m designing but also myself and how I fit in a society, a community and what I can do about it to make the world slightly a better place through my designs as well as my creations.

==================================================================

Swiss Grid

This book taught me the importance of staying in line and follow rules. The essentials of modern design all stem from following rules and understanding what is essential and what is not. This book represents my understanding of the complexity behind simplicity. Something simple isn’t just simple. Behind is rules, lines, principles, and deep thought buried in it that the audience don’t see. Though my designs don’t reflect Swiss and modern design and most of my designs are not simple either, my reliance to the rules has taught me how to break them the right way. Since I was a kid I was taught how to follow rules and even growing up as a Christian I was taught the importance behind them. The older I get the more I realize some of these rules are arbitrary and useless, rules that don’t accept progression or self-expression; rules that doesn’t even follow my beliefs, though still even with this epiphany I still understood its importance. I understand why rules has to exist and why we must follow them. A world without rules is chaos and a world full of rules is depressing. I finally learned how to follow the thin line in between both worlds of Post modernism and modernism; and I have chosen a pdf printed copy of the Swiss Grid book to represent my rebellion and my allegiance to the rules.

Phone

The phone, we can never get away from it. Its around us and we need it. Our reliance to our technology that fits in out pocket has excelled humanity to the starts, figuratively and literally. Our phone clearly has changed how we designed things. for a lot of Instagram designers, you will see a trend of having over simplified posters and large text for readability since because its target audience is on Instagram. Though print isn’t dying, pocket screens will definitely a hard competition. A device that can show any information you want through a pic of a QR code or a download that your guest can access anytime, compared to a Pamphlet that has to be printed a million copies cause bigger and more expenses. These are one of the things I though about when I decided to choose to move my degree to interaction design, I don’t think print is dying but I prefer to be in the more technological side as it seems as if this is the one that is calling me. I choose this old beat-up Alcatel phone I had to represent the humble phone, the phone that change the landscape of design drastically.

THE ARCHIVE

The archive contains all the ephemera that I find valuable. A piece of historical importance in my own history. to most people all they see is a box full of posters, doodles, sketch, notes and documentation, but to me these are all piece of a puzzle that I can combine to make something new. I have always been a creator as a kid, back when I still used to live in the Philippines, we had a backyard full of stuff and junk and I would uses those junk to make something out of it, like that one time I made a taser. Back in year 12 and 13 my go to method of creation is collage both digital and physical. I always collect ephemera with me and with those dead documents will reborn a new piece of design. this box represents a grave and I’m a mad scientist that will ‘Frankenstein’ each pieces into another living piece of design

>EYE SEE YOU

The project that cemented my interest. Before this I didn’t really have a style yet. My design identity was lost in the sea of ideas I had in mind, but this project changed that. The awareness campaign zine/poster project I did in 2022 help me understand how I want to look like within my community, these are like the clothes I wear to the club. If I describe how it would look like, I like to describe it as “digital-punk with a hint of post-digital”. This aesthetic is a mix my punk origins and digital design ideas into one thing. I choose this poster to represent it as I believe this is the project that help me understand my aesthetics.

UTorrent

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teconkaals · 1 year ago

Text

Walking With A Ghost Chapter 4

Was he sure about that? He’d never been in love because he hadn't had the chance. It's not like he'd actively searched for it, either. In fact, he didn't think he deserved it; someone like him, broken in so many places, with so many traumas, wasn’t something normal people wanted to be around. People weren't looking for problems, they were looking for other people who made them feel good. And he couldn't offer it. All he was good at was killing. An assassin in the service of the army who didn’t hesitate before taking a life. That he didn't mind getting blood on his hands because he couldn't even smell the iron on it. How could someone like him choose to fall in love? To be loved? Who would want to be around?

Or Ghost comes back from a mission and he ends up cooking with Soap.

AO3 Chapter link: Chapter 4 - Home

Fanfic Masterlist: Here

Next Chapter: Chapter 5 - Nightmare

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3 - Back Home

Wordcount: 7956

Rating: Mature

Tags of the fanfic (some of them): hurt/comfort, taking care of each other, blood and violence, happy ending, non explicit sex

A/N: I don't know whether to consider it as sensitive content, but just in case I warn that there are descriptions of violence and a reference to suicide (not explicitly, there is talk of a scar, nothing more).

I don’t give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform (I’m publishing on my Ao3 account both English and Spanish).

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY - TF 141 HOME NORTHERN SUMY OBLAST, UKRAINE NOVEMBER 9, 2022, 02:15

He stopped and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smell of pine. But the real one, not the one they put in car air fresheners. Although he didn't go hiking much, Ghost liked nature and enjoyed it whenever a mission took them far from civilization. Walking through the trees, stepping on the leaves, the silence…

Yes, mostly silence.

The lack of sound stimuli was a compelling reason for him to feel comfortable, being in the middle of a Ukrainian forest. He hated noise, it annoyed him, that's why he always wore headphones; connected to the mp3 player when he was on leave or to the radio if he was on a mission. However, by now, Ghost had taken them off and was hanging them around his neck, resting his ears. He didn't need them, his partner was a few steps ahead of him and, as a precaution, they were disconnected from the network.

Charly stopped and put a hand to her waist, leaning back. Ghost picked up his pace a bit and stopped next to her.

“All good?” He asked her quietly.

She glanced at him and smiled.

“The slopes are hard for me,” she answered. “My lumbars are burdening me a lot.”

Simon nodded wordlessly and looked around, making sure everything was in order. He made out a herd of deer, several yards away, and relaxed a bit when he saw that they were calm. He turned to Charly when he heard movement from her and she held up the thumb of one hand, putting on her night vision goggles and walking away. Ghost followed her in silence. They were close to their destination, an old abandoned mine where the CIA believed their target would be.

König.

He inadvertently squeezed the butt of his rifle and forced himself to take a deep breath. Before leaving, Price had given them all the information they needed for the mission. Laswell, via video conference, commented that they believed he was working for Makarov, supplying weapons of all kinds. Ghost wasn't surprised. Smuggling was one of the things he was best at. She also warned them not to engage them directly, that their only goal was to find out where the weapons were being sent. Price emphasized the latter, looking at him, and Simon had to grudgingly agree. Knowing that he could have it within arm's reach and not being able to cut his throat was killing him inside.

“So…you and Soap, huh?”

Ghost looked at her and put the headphones on, widening his stride to put space between them. Charly was a strong, intelligent and funny woman; a good soldier who had started to talk to him more because of her friendship with Soap. And he suspected that was the reason why she had changed her attitude. Actually, despite keeping his distance from everyone, Simon got along with his 141 partners and, in his own way, took care of them.

Well, up to a point.

“Don't run, coward,” she said over the radio, chuckling. “You're still on the radio.”

“There's nothing between us,” Ghost snarled.

“Come on! He obviously likes you. I wish someone would look at me like Soap looks at you,” she added with a soft laugh.

“It won't be for candidates.”

Charlie laughed.

“Don't sidetrack, Ghost. We were talking about you. We've all noticed that you've gotten really close after the Las Almas incident. What happened there?”

Simon didn't answer.

What happened in Las Almas? That he lowered his guard, that's what happened. He was carried away by his appreciation for Soap and let him in without realizing it. Not that he regretted it, he had promised himself not to, but it was still something new and he needed to get used to it. And, until he got used to it, he wouldn't share it with anyone. It was something that was part of his private life and he never talked about it.

“I'm sure you read the reports,” he simply replied.

She huffed.

“That's not what I mean and you know it,” she sighed theatrically. "Okay, okay, don't tell me. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that we're happy for you. Soap is much more upbeat, and face it, you needed someone close.”

Ghost clicked his tongue, but didn't reply. He turned when he felt Charly's hand on his shoulder and she smiled. She then nodded forward and he followed her gaze. He sighed and gripped his gun tightly. The mine was very close, at the end of the grove, and that meant that König would be there too. He forced himself to take a deep breath, remembering that they couldn't interfere, that they had come as observers.

And that pissed him off.

He shook his head to focus and walked with Charly the last meters of the hill. They hid in the bushes and took a look around before leaving the forest. They dropped to the ground and moved carefully to the edge of the ravine. Ghost positioned the sniper rifle and adjusted the scope.

The place was dimly lit, just enough to see without drawing anyone's attention; a handful of buildings, dilapidated and rusty, served as a base for the people of König. A little further, a hole opened in the mountain and several pallet trucks came out of it carrying countless boxes.

“What do you see?” Charlie whispered.

“Too much movement,” he snarled, shifting the gun so he could see the rest of the place. “They're taking boxes out of the mine.”

“They sure are weapons,” she snorted. “Any indication of where they're being taken?”

Ghost didn't answer. He limited himself to looking for a clue, taking a good look at the boxes and the uniforms of those who were there. He found nothing, yet he cocked his head as he ran into one of the mine towers.

“No. But I’ve located a laptop that may have information.”

He noticed how Charly was looking at him carefully.

“We have orders not to approach,” she reminded him.

“They said not to engage them,” Ghost pointed out, handing her the rifle. “I'm going to sneak in and steal that information, that's all.”

Charly picked up the gun and put a hand on his forearm, holding him back.

“You'll get yourself killed,” she whispered.

Ghost looked at her and gently released her grip. He also took off his night vision goggles and handed them to her partner. Although they had worked on a few occasions, they’d never been sent on a mission of those characteristics, so it was logical that Charly would ask for caution. She knew nothing about him, about his way of working and why he was nicknamed Ghost. His file was so classified that you could barely read a couple of details and the rumors that circulated around the base were so crazy that even he found them funny.

He forced himself to breathe deeply.

“I'm an expert in infiltration,” he remarked smoothly. “It's me they send when things get bad.”

Charly looked at him for a few seconds and nodded.

“Still, be careful.”

Ghost didn't answer, he moved away from her in silence and went down to the mine. He watched the guards posted for a long time and, taking advantage of the shadows and the movement of the patrols, he got closer to the tower. He climbed up it, much slower than he would like to avoid the creaking metal, and hid at the top. He peered out carefully to see that there was only one man there, well armed, next to the laptop. As much as he wanted to, killing him or knocking him out weren't options. Neither was he to take the device. Any one of them would trigger the alarm and ruin the entire plan. Not only theirs, but also König and Makarov's. He knew that the CIA was monitoring several points, suspecting that they were under the control of the terrorist, and all that work would go to hell if they made a mistake.

He looked around and located a portable generator on the ground several meters away. He narrowed his eyes a little and followed the wires to realize that it was part of the lighting in the place. Resigned, he descended from the tower and advanced towards the generator. He was surprised that there was no one around, watching, and that could only mean two things: either it was a trap, or they didn't plan to have visitors. He took his time to make sure there was no danger and walked towards the device. He took out one of the knives and unscrewed the plate that covered the engine, taking a look inside. He clenched his jaw, frustrated that he couldn't touch it running, but he cocked his head at the sight of the reservoir. Although he was tempted to pierce him, he held back. If someone checked it out he would realize it had been sabotaged and they would have a problem. Then, he saw a huge cable coming out of it and carefully loosened it without thinking twice.

Just enough so that, with the vibration of the engine, it would disconnect itself.

Ghost returned to the tower and patiently waited for the generator to fail. A few minutes later, the lights in the place flickered a couple of times until they went out, and then everyone went looking for the problem. The man who was watching the laptop left his post and Ghost listened as he went down the stairs. He waited half a second before going inside and taking out a small hard drive to connect to the computer. He typed quickly and started backing up all the data.

Suddenly, the metal stairs creaked and Ghost tensed, glancing toward the doorway. He waited a second, then looked back at the computer screen, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Two thoughts crossed his mind, the same two choices he had when climbing the tower. He couldn't knock the guard unconscious and he couldn't take the laptop either, both would raise suspicions, but cutting the backup would imply a high probability that the data would become useless by being corrupted.

Damn.

He waited a few seconds, choosing to knock the enemy unconscious, when the clang of the metal on the stairs ceased. He glanced sideways at the laptop screen and jumped a little when he heard Charly's voice on the radio.

“He's stopped to smoke,” she informed. “Whatever you're doing, drop it and get the fuck out of there.”

Ghost focused on the computer, maintaining his usual cool, and waited two seconds for the backup to complete. He unplugged the hard drive, jumped out the window just as the guard entered the tower, and waited a few seconds, silent. A part of himself was afraid that he would raise the alarm if he found something that made him suspicious, but nothing happened. Simon took a deep breath and went down to the ground, getting ready to return to Charly's side.

At that instant, a voice stopped him on the spot. His throat went dry and his pulse deafened her ears. He moved his head in the direction of the person who had spoken and gripped his weapon tightly.

"Ghost."

He ignored her partner's voice. Even in the darkness, dimly lit by the flashlights, he could see him: a tall man, seven feet tall, burly with a covered head. Ghost envisioned plunging the knife into his chest, right into his heart, and then into his throat. Leaving him to bleed out like a pig. Or drown in his own blood, whichever came first. Although, if he thought coldly about it, both were too quick deaths. Ghost wanted him to suffer. Let him feel the same pain he had felt. He could rip him open. Break his joints. Rip off…

“Ghost!”

He blinked when he heard Charly's whisper and came back to reality. Simon looked at the knife in his hand, and in that instant he realized what he had been about to do. He was so blinded by revenge, he hadn't even realized he'd drawn it.

“Get the fuck out of there!” She added. “They're going to see you!”

Ghost didn't answer. He put the knife away and quickly returned to Charly's side, trying to keep König in the background. He had already been about to jeopardize the mission, he didn’t want to tempt fate and that it could be repeated again.

“What the hell were you thinking?” She snapped as soon as she saw him.

Silently, Ghost lay down beside her and retrieved the rifle to take a look. They had managed to fix the generator and the light was bathing the camp again; no one seemed to suspect that it had been intentional and that was good.

“Ghost, what happened down there?” Charly asked again, this time in a softer tone.

“Nothing,” he replied dryly. “We have the data. It's time to go.”

He noticed her eyeing him closely before nodding with a huff. Ghost put his night vision goggles back on and got up, heading into the woods. He used the way back, listening to the silence and smelling nature, to try to relax. To appease the rage that was growing inside him like a poison. He was angry that he hadn’t been able to kill König. Pissed off for having to just let him get away. Luckily, life had taught him that if revenge doesn't come on its own, you can always go looking for it yourself.

They got on the plane and Ghost sat in one of the empty seats, placing the rifle between his legs and leaning his back against the wall. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head back. He was exhausted after several days of walking through the Ukrainian forests and could only think of falling into bed, sleeping for several hours straight. He wished he had the same ability as Soap to fall asleep anywhere and the thought of him made his chest feel a little tight.

He took out his cell phone and flipped it open. Simon knew that he hadn’t received any calls, nor any messages; Soap was smart enough not to do it while he was on a mission. Still, seeing the empty notification screen gave him a pang of sadness.

“How is it possible you have such an archaic mobile?”

He raised her gaze from the device to fix it on Charly. She looked at the phone curiously and smiled quizzically.

“You're one of the best hackers I know, why are you using a phone my grandfather could have?” She burst out laughing.

“It's harder to track,” he answered, shrugging and pocketing the device.

“Yeah, sure,” Charly laughed. “If you want to call Soap, I can go to the booth and give you privacy.”

He glared at her and she chuckled again. Though it annoyed him to admit it, the thought of seeing Soap again, of hearing his voice, and of feeling him close, pulled at him like a weight tied to his feet. Simon closed his eyes and focused on remembering him. The image of John sleeping in the bed, just before leaving his house, made him smile a little under the mask. It didn't last long when his mind decided to twist him to turn that pretty memory into something grotesque.

His eyes snapped open and he sighed, resigned. He took out the mp3 and plugged it into the headphones; then he searched in his pockets until he found a small notebook and began writing the mission report to distract himself. More than ten hours of flight awaited him, it was better for him not to give wings to his mind.

Luckily, the music did its job and he was able to relax enough to doze off a couple of times. Simon didn't sleep at all, he never slept out of his (or Soap's) room, but he got some rest. As soon as they landed at Credenhill, he went to the intelligence department, left the data there, and rewrote the report. Then he walked through the different buildings to Price's office, knocked softly, and went in when he was given permission.

“Ah, Simon,” the Captain greeted. “Nice to see you.”

“I bring you the mission report, sir.”

“A little early even for you,” he commented, picking up the paper and glancing at it before setting it down on the table. “Is there something bothering you?”

“Nothing out of the usual”

“Not even König?”

Ghost gave him a cold look, feeling the poison of anger creep up his legs again. He shook his head.

“I had orders not to engage and that's what I did.”

Price stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder.

“We'll catch him,” he assured.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Ghost snarled, looking up at him.

Price gave a half smile and nodded, going back behind the desk.

“Take the rest of the day off. Shower and have a proper dinner. And try to rest.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He turned to leave, and as he was about to open the door, Price's voice stopped him.

“Soap’s training the new recruits,” he said casually. Ghost glanced at him over his shoulder. “Maybe you'd like to drop by.”

He didn't answer, just nodded and left the office. He knew he couldn't fool Price, so he didn't even consider trying. The man, barely a few years older than him, had become a kind of father figure that Ghost appreciated more than he showed.

And, most importantly, he trusted him.

To Ghost, trust was a very valuable thing and he didn't give it away just like that. Only the Captain, and Amelia, had it. Well, and Soap. The Scot was gaining it little by little, without pressing him and in such a natural way, that even he himself was surprised. Still, the fear of betrayal was still there, latent like a virus, and he knew that only time would tell if it was mortal or not.

He stopped in front of the training field and took a quick look around, feeling his chest heat up as he recognized the figure he was looking for. He moved closer and stood right behind him.

“Hey.”

Soap whirled around, stifling an exclamation of surprise.

“What the fuck are you doing, Ghost!?” He exclaimed and glared at him. “Do you want me to have a fucking heart attack?”

Simon smiled a bit under his mask.

“Sorry.”

The other snorted.

“So... you're back.”

“We just landed.”

“Yeah,” he turned to the newbies. “Come on, move those legs, you're not taking a fucking country walk!” He crossed his arms, lowering his voice when he spoke again. “You left without saying anything.”

“I left you a note,” Ghost frowned a little.

“Something you could have told me over dinner,” he replied, not looking at him.

“I… I'm sorry,” Simon sighed, feeling a small pang of anguish in his chest. He still wasn't sure what was between them, but he did know that he wasn't good at anything outside of the sexual realm. “Until recently, I had no one to report my outings to.”

John looked at him over his shoulder for a few seconds, silent.

“Sticky Toffee Pudding,” he said suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“It's a Scottish dessert. My favorite,” he added.

Ghost looked at him blankly and Soap sighed, turning to him.

“You said the next time we ate dinner together, you'd bring one,” he reminded him. “And I want you to make my favorite dessert, to make up for it.”

Simon looked at him closely, realizing he was right. That during dinner at his house, he had promised to bring dessert. He’d done it without thinking and now he had a problem because he didn't have a kitchen. Would they let him use the one at the base?

“And, since you'll be tired,” Soap continued, “we can have dinner at your house. That way you just have to drive to it instead of making two trips.”

“At my place?” He repeated slowly.

“Yes, I have said so. Is it too soon for you?” Soap added, concerned.

Ghost glanced at the recruits, not quite sure how to tell him that he lived in the barracks.

“They’ve relaxed.”

Soap looked at him before turning to face the track and shouting a series of words in Scots.

“Five more laps you lazy bunch! Come on, come on!” He snorted and turned to Ghost. "I can't get distracted for a fucking moment. So, what? At your house?"

Simon looked into his eyes for half a second before focusing back on the newbies. He decided to do what he always did: say things directly.

“I have no home.”

John blinked, puzzled.

“What? Sure you do, you don't live under a bridge,” he laughed. “It's also considered a home even if it's for rent, you know that, right?”

“I live in the barracks, Johnny,” he looked up into his eyes, suddenly tired.

His partner's smile dimmed and disappeared. A confused expression covered his face.

“But… you're a lieutenant, you earn more than me. You can afford a place out of here.”

“It's not a matter of money.”

“Is it because of who you are? I mean… there are no pictures of you anywhere and no one knows anything about your past. Is it because of that?”

Ghost looked at him, surprised that he had hit one of the reasons. Although it wasn't the most important, not even close. He sighed.

“There's nowhere I'd call home. The closest is the base,” he shrugged. “I don't receive visitors either, so I don't need more than a roof to cover myself and a bed to sleep on.”

“I understand,” Soap replied quietly. He suddenly turned to the recruits. “Okay, that's it for today! Off to the showers and rest!”

The rookies passed them, looking at them with a mixture of curiosity and fear. Ghost returned a cold stare and a couple of them backed away before walking on. When they were gone, Soap spoke.

“I still have a couple of reports to finish,” he commented, resting his hands on his hips. “You should go shower and change your clothes,” he cocked his head thoughtfully. “We can meet in an hour or so, in the parking lot. Let's go shopping and cook at my house.”

Ghost shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly uncomfortable.

“I don't want to invade your privacy more than necessary.”

Soap chuckled and shook his head.

“On the contrary, Lt. I want you to call my home yours,” he lightly punched him in the shoulder. “See you in an hour.”

He walked away, smiling, and Ghost looked down at his shoulder for a few seconds before fixing his gaze on Soap's figure. In that moment, he felt his chest break at feeling so lucky to have John by his side. He still wasn't used to the fact that someone could want something more from him, something beyond the physical. He felt a pang of pain as his heart burned. What could a killing machine offer a person like John?

Pain and suffering, he thought bitterly.

He turned and walked towards the barracks. He went into his room, locked the door and put the backpack on the floor. Simon forced himself to take a deep breath and headed for the bathroom. He was the only one on the base, apart from the high-ranking officers, who had one in the room. Courtesy of Price. It was true that he could use the common showers, like the rest of the soldiers, but he couldn't risk someone seeing his face. The fewer people knew, the better.

Ghost showered and dressed routinely, emptied his backpack and put what little he had taken with him in the closet. He put the dirty clothes in a bag and took them to the laundry. When he returned to his room, Simon looked around him. Should he prepare the backpack? Take some clothes? Soap said they were having dinner, did that mean he wanted him to stay the night? If so, he would have said so, right? The last time he offered it to Ghost because it had gotten late, maybe this time they wouldn't see any movies. Perhaps dinner would not last too long.

“Simon?”

He looked up and saw Soap in the doorway of his room. The Scotsman pushed the door a little wider and stepped into the room.

“Everything okay? I've been waiting for you in the parking lot for a while.”

“Has it already been an hour?” he asked, confused.

John walked over to him and put a hand on his forearm.

“Yeah. Are you alright?”

Ghost sighed.

“I've been distracted,” he acknowledged. “I think… I'm overthinking some things.”

“Want to talk about them?” Soap asked softly, circling his thumb over Ghost's arm.

Simon shook his head and John nodded.

“Okay,” he composed a smile. “Come on, I'll help you pack your things.”

Ghost looked at him and at that moment he was aware of Soap's presence. Not like he always had, no. This time was different because he was in his room, the most personal place he had, and it was the first time that a person other than Price entered there. He had always thought that he would feel fear and anxiety at the invasion, however, it was the opposite.

He felt calm, safe.

As if everything was in order, as if that was the right thing. To see John take the backpack that he had left lying on the floor, shake it and go to the closet, looking at it before doing anything, with a silent question in his eyes; asking permission to open another part of himself and get to know him a little more, it was as if a hot iron had been thrust into his chest. Clearing away the cold that had invaded him for so many years. Soap smiled when Ghost nodded and carefully opened the cabinet, peeking inside as he stood there. Bound to the ground, like a dangerous beast, by a series of invisible chains that he was able to break as soon as John picked up a hoodie and brought it to his face to smell it. Soap closed his eyes, smiling, before throwing it into his backpack and Simon couldn't take it anymore.

Ghost walked over to him, closed the bedroom door, and pulled up his mask. Soap turned, surprised at the movement, and dropped the pack to hug him. He kissed him back, just as hungry as he was, and Simon sighed against his lips. He kept his eyes closed and leaned his forehead against his, his eyes clenching as John held his face in his hands.

“I've missed you too,” Soap whispered and moved a little to kiss his chin, caressing his cheeks.

“Sorry I didn't tell you about the mission,” Simon murmured, pulling him into his arms a little tighter. “I didn't know it would upset you.”

John nudged him a little, gently, so he could see him, and Ghost frowned back at him. Soap smiled.

“I'm not upset,” he replied. “I'd rather you leave a note than walk off without saying anything. Besides,” his smile widened, “you gave me an excuse to test your famous pastry skill.”

“You didn't need it, you just had to ask me.”

Soap chuckled softly, rising on his toes to kiss him on the lips.

“It's a joke, Simon,” he sighed. “Come on, you just have to get what you need from the bathroom and we can go. At this rate it’ll be dark,” he added, laughing again.

Simon put his mask back on and bent to pick up his pack. He went to the bathroom and dumped in the deodorant, toothbrush and hairbrush. He zipped it up and slung it over his shoulder, facing Soap. The Scot smiled at him and walked out of the room, and Ghost, after making sure he left the door locked, followed him out into the parking lot. He didn't argue about carpooling and sat on the passenger side, letting Soap drive. After all, he better than anyone knew the way to his house.

During the trip, John made small talk and Ghost appreciated it. In fact, he really liked listening to him talk. The sound of his voice, the variation between whether what he was telling was something that excited or disgusted him, the little tinge of passion when he talked about explosives or art, how he softened when pronouncing his name. Simon wasn't quite used to it, the heat that filled his chest and the slight pain that gripped his heart.

He frowned a bit and rubbed his knuckles against his breastbone. Ghost didn't understand why hurted him if the emotion was positive. He outlined a half smile when he realized that this was the reason. He’d heard that love hurted and he’d never considered that loving someone too much could hurt. Simon looked at Soap, who was sorting out some leeks, and wondered if this was what other people felt when they fell in love.

He cocked his head.

“Simon?”

He blinked and fixed his attention on John. His partner looked at him with that small wrinkle between his eyebrows, the one that told Simon he was worried. He took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face.

“Sorry.”

“What's got you so distracted?” Soap asked, placing the purchase to pay.

The cashier looked at them and Ghost could see her tense at his presence. He knew that she was scared, that she wondered if he was dangerous, if she would have to run from him. Ghost had to accept it. He was anything but good. A terrifying person for ordinary people. He’d nothing else to offer, only pain. And knowing that, at some point, Soap would realize that and leave him, made his chest ache again. A pain he was used to. A pain that reminded him of the loss of his family, of betrayal and loneliness.

He snapped back to reality when he felt someone take his hand and gently pull him. Simon glanced there and saw that Soap had wrapped a pair of fingers in his. At that moment he was aware that they were on their way to the apartment, with the purchase made, and he hadn’t even realized it.

He squeezed Soap's fingers gently and he looked at him.

“Sorry,” he murmured, looking ahead.

“You don't have to apologize to me,” he replied, moving his hand to lace his fingers through his. “I know that sometimes our minds play tricks on us by reminding us of sad events. Or it simply makes us think about things we shouldn't.”

Soap stopped in front of the doorway and Simon took the shopping bag with his free hand, listening for his words.

“I also know, from what little you've let me see, that you haven't had an easy life,” Soap continued as they headed up the stairs. “So I imagine that your mind can be… defensive when there are situations that get out of your routine.”

He opened the apartment door and they both entered. He locked and left the keys on a cabinet in the hall, turning to Ghost. He reached up with his free hand and rested it on his cheek, over the top of his balaclava.

“I know you’re strong, that you’re here is proof of that. However, I also know that talking things out usually helps. I don't want you to feel pressured,” he added quickly, “just remember that you’re not alone. That you’ve me here. And that you're not weaker for telling me what's bothering you.”

Simon didn’t reply. He had no words to answer all that and, even if he did, the lump in his throat prevented him from speaking. He felt again how his chest split open, exposing his heart, and how his eyes burned with tears. Not knowing what else to do, he held John tight. A clumsy hug because of the purchase that Soap didn't seem to care about. Without letting go of his hand, he wrapped his free arm around him and pulled him close, kissing him on the neck.

Something got tangled between Ghost's legs and he pulled away to see Biscuit there, arching against his pants. John chuckled and took the grocery bag from him.

“Looks like I'm not the only one who's missed you,” he commented.

Ghost reached down to pick up the cat, and it pawed at his face, hooking a claw on his mask and pulling. Simon realized that, although the animal had recognized him, it didn’t like the garment. He bared his face and Biscuit rested its head against his chin, purring loudly as it rubbed against his face.

“He likes stubble,” said Soap, touching his cheek.

“I forgot to shave,” he acknowledged, remembering that he hadn't shaved for ten days.

“It doesn't bother me,” John smiled, walking into the kitchen.

Simon followed him and put the cat on the table. Soap began unpacking things, placing some in the fridge and some on the counter.

“I bought you something.”

Ghost looked at him and raised an eyebrow at what his friend was holding in his hand.

“Make-up removing wipes?” He asked, confused.

“That war paint you're wearing is awful. I understand why, really, but it doesn't go away completely with soap and water. And it's terrible for the skin.”

“Since when do you care so much about… my skin?”

John laughed and opened the package, pulling out a washcloth.

“Since my mother is a dermatologist. All my life listening to what to do and what not to do to take care of it has been useful for something,” he smiled a little more and cupped Ghost’s face with one hand.

Simon closed his eyes and let him do it. Soap wiped away the paint he always wore around his eyes, slowly and carefully, almost caressing his face, and Ghost breathed in deeply, relaxing.

“So here you were,” John whispered, and Simon opened his eyes.

He thought he would drown when he saw his look full of affection, a love that he had only seen in his brother's eyes when he looked at his sister-in-law. A feeling that he never expected to awaken in another person. Simon swallowed hard, trying to undo the lump in his throat.

“Much better this way,” Soap went on, examining his face closely. “I think it's the first time I've seen your face so clean,” he added with a soft laugh.

Simon blushed and John brushed his thumb over his cheek. He closed his eyes, kissing his palm before taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to make dinner?” He asked him.

“Of course,” John chuckled. “I'm going to make you a Scottish dish that you're going to love,” he paused. “Because you like soup, right?”

“Sure.”

“Good, because that's what I'm going to make,” he pointed at him with a wooden spoon. “Cullen Skink. It's more of an appetizer but, given the time of day, it's perfect for not having a bad digestion.”

Ghost smiled and they divided up the kitchen, each focused on their own work. As Simon began to sift the flour, John leaned over to watch, brushing a hand over the flour that had spilled onto the counter. He looked at his palm and put it on Ghost's face. He closed his eyes and blinked rapidly, looking at him with a slight frown.

“What…?” He left the question hanging and Soap laughed.

“You're an uruk-hai now,” he replied, still smiling.

Simon looked at him, silent, and set the sieve on the counter, facing him. He moved closer to John and, without changing his expression, leaned down to speak into his ear.

“How dare you lower the dark lord Sauron to the level of such a simple and foolish creature? I will personally see that you are punished most severely.”

He had lowered his voice, using a much deeper tone than his usual, to imitate Sauron. He’d expected John to laugh at his poor imitation, not to stop breathing and swallow hard.

“Fuck, Simon…” he whispered, blowing out his breath and pulling him up to kiss him.

Ghost nearly lost his balance, putting a hand on the counter to steady himself. He moved the other to John's hip, kissing him back without understanding what had happened. When they parted, he looked at him curiously.

“I think I need context…”

“You can't expect to talk to me like that and not have me react.”

“Speak to you how? Like Sauron?” He cocked his head, confused. “Does Sauron… turn you on?”

“What? No!” Soap laughed. “It's your voice that made me like this.”

“Oh.”

John looked at him carefully.

“Didn't you know you could do that?”

“No… I've always thought it's too… scratchy and that's why it scares people.”

“Your voice isn't scary,” he turned to the kitchen and turned down one of the burners, “it's you with the mask and the attitude.”

Ghost picked up the sieve and finished with the flour thoughtfully.

“If I am so scary, why have I not scared you?”

Soap looked at him, surprised by the question, and managed a half smile before turning his attention to the pot.

“Well, you scared me at first,” he acknowledged, making a vague gesture with his hand. “But then I realized there was something else and I wanted to know if I could help. I'm good at reading people, you know? My mom always tells me I should have been a psychiatrist,” he laughed.

Simon looked at him without saying anything. Again, there was the desire to help a stranger. To lend a hand to someone who hadn't asked for it, who wasn't accessible. All because John was a good person and he had a heart so big it couldn't fit in his chest.

Simon leaned over him and kissed him on the head, gently. Soap turned, surprised, and gave him one of those smiles that can light up everything. He nudged him playfully with his shoulder and continued cooking. Simon followed suit, enjoying his company and feeling very lucky.

Half an hour later, John had finished the soup and was washing up the dirty dishes. For his part, Simon covered the cake with the toffee sauce and popped it back into the oven, careful not to burn. Soap leaned on the counter beside him, looking at him curiously.

“I think it’s done,” Ghost commented, taking it out of the oven. He removed the cake from the mold and placed it on a plate. “It's the first time I've done it, so I don't know how it turned out.”

“I bet it's tasty,” Soap commented, cutting off a small piece. He blew on it and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes, moaning in pleasure, and nodded. “Oh my gosh, it's amazing.”

“It's supposed to be accompanied by sauce…”

“It's good that way, too. Besides,” he smiled, “I bet it's not sweet.”

Simon frowned a little. He’d followed the instructions to the letter, without reducing any ingredient, so by force it had to be sweet. He dipped his finger into the pot and tasted the sauce.

“You're wrong. Too much for me, although I imagine if it's your favorite dessert, it has to be sweet.”

“Really? Let me taste it.”

Ghost started to give him the pot, however, John grabbed his hand and stuck his finger in his mouth, licking the remaining sauce with his tongue. It was Simon's turn to stop breathing, feeling his blood move to the part between his thighs. Soap licked his lips and smiled.

“Yeah, it has to be this sweet,” he commented.

Simon didn't respond, pushed him back against the counter and kissed him, placing both hands on his hips. He kissed him again after taking a breath and noticed how John smiled on his lips.

“Sorry, this wasn't what I meant,” Soap chuckled.

“You could have used the spoon,” Simon growled in his ear. “I'm not made of stone, Johnny.”

“Well” the Scotsman's smile widened as he moved his hand to his crotch, “looks like you're close.”

Ghost looked at him for a split second before taking his hand and leading him into the room. Soap followed without opposition, widening his smile, and laughed as Simon gently pushed him onto the bed. They undressed between kisses, caresses and moans, and this time, Simon wanted to take the initiative. John, without saying anything, made it clear that he had no problem with it and Ghost took a deep breath. He trailed kisses and nibbles along Soap's throat, feeling his pulse quicken under his lips and relishing every gasp he managed to wring from him. He moved down his collarbone, sternum, and abdomen, leaving a hot trail of kisses that made John's back arch a little. He smiled, not stopping until he reached Soap’s crotch and gently wrapped his fingers around him, smiling a little more when he heard a moan in response.

Certainly Simon could get used to this.

To the sound of John's moans and gasps; to the softness of his skin and how he bristled under his fingers; the way he arched when he kissed him, the way he laughed; to how he made him feel when Soap held onto him as he climaxed. How he caressed his back when, exhausted, Simon plopped down on him; to the whisper of affectionate words in his ear.

“I think our dinner got cold,” Soap whispered, chuckling as he toyed with a lock of Ghost's hair.

He moaned low in response, eyes closed and face resting on John's chest, listening to his heartbeat. He caught the vibration in his voice as he spoke again.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“When was the last time you ate something?” Soap asked again and Simon sensed a smile on his lips. “And by something I mean real food. Not combat rations.”

Ghost sighed and John shifted slightly to look at him. He caressed his cheek gently and Simon's eyes opened.

“Last time I was here,” he finally answered.

“I thought so,” he kissed him on the forehead. “Come on, you’ve to eat something. We haven't spent the afternoon cooking to leave it there, right?”

Simon chuckled softly and stood up. He stretched and rubbed his neck.

“Mind if I take a shower first?”

“Of course not, you're in your house,” Soap replied kindly.

Simon nodded and went into the bathroom, turned on the hot water, and stepped into the shower. His mind still felt dense, however, John's words reminded him of others he had said that same afternoon, at the training field.

‘I want you to call my home yours.’

Ever since his family was murdered, Ghost had decided not to have a home. In fact, since he thought that he would die on the battlefield, he saw no point in it. He also wasn't a person who related too much with his co-workers; he just followed orders as best he could, without worrying about anything else. A lone wolf, some would say.

John walked into the shower with him and kissed his shoulder. Simon moved to allow him space and rubbed the sponge against his back, gently.

After accepting Price's offer to join 141, he’d been forced to work as a team; to live with a series of people who, with each passing day, became closer to him. Even if he didn't want it. Still, no one had crossed the invisible line he had drawn the first day. Just Soap. And that, precisely, it was he who offered him a place where he felt comfortable, a place that he could call home, generated in him a series of emotions that he did not want to have at that time.

Too fast.

They got out of the shower, dressed and went back to the kitchen. John heated up the soup and Simon did the same with dessert. Biscuit climbed up on the table with them, curiously sniffing at the food, and Soap led him away, leaving food for him in the trough.

“Well, what was the mission about?” John commented.

“Information. Someone made off with a series of weapons a few weeks ago. Laswell and Price think Makarov is behind it.”

“Makarov?” Soap repeated. “And, he was there?”

“No,” Ghost snarled, remembering that König was indeed there. “I got the data. Intelligence is working on it.”

“And without taking a scratch. That's good.”

Simon didn't answer, just grunted and John cocked his head, looking at him carefully.

“Eh, what's up?” he asked softly. “What are you not telling me?”

Ghost glanced at him and sighed.

“The… guy who moves the weapons is called König,” he replied, fixing his gaze on the plate. “Let's just say I have a score to settle with him.”

“And he got away from you,” Soap realized.

Simon shook his head, his jaw clenching.

“We had orders not to intervene” he growled, pissed off. “I had to let him go. And he was so close, Johnny. One quick move and I could have killed him.”

His gaze shifted to his hand at the touch of Soap's. In that instant Simon realized that he was squeezing the spoon too tightly, so he released it and twisted his wrist to expose it. John caressed it, tracing spirals with his fingertips.

“You'll catch him,” he assured him. “Sooner or later the occasion for it presents itself.”

“Price said the same thing,” Simon murmured without taking his gaze from his wrist, from the scar that ran from her to his elbow; he’d others on his forearm, but this one stood out the most. “I’d left him for dead. Now that I know he isn't, I'm going to go find him.”

“And I will go with you.”

Simon looked up instantly, fixing it on Soap.

“No,” he replied curtly, looking him in the eye. “I won't put you in danger.”

“I'm in constant danger, Simon. I don't work selling ice cream, you know?”

“It's different. I'm not going to drag you, or allow you to accompany me, into a personal vendetta. Never,” he turned his hand to grasp Soap’s forearm and pressed gently. “Clear?”

Soap nodded, though Ghost knew he didn't agree. It warmed his chest that he was willing to follow him to the end of the world to help him, however, the pain at the mere thought of John being hurt was stronger. And Simon didn't even want to think about the worst situation, the one in which he saw him die because of him. No. He wouldn't put John in danger if he could help it.

Over his dead body.

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notquiteaghost · 2 years ago

Note

congrats on making a public inquiry on a line of interest situated in the middle of a venn diagram of like four things i've been thinking about a lot lately, your prize is this ask that is so long that in the time spent writing it and checking info someone less annoying may have directed you to some of it! this is all like easy enough to google but just in case it feels less uuhh to have someone with an approximate knowledge on some things offer you some pointers: here are some pointers

(i AM ALSO a thousands of CD's type of guy, but i've not done any big digital management of them since the last time i was regularly using ipods in the 2000s, n i am kinda Prepping for big digital management around my current standing main hyperfixation (participants of a season of an old korean idol reality competition show, a collection of Too Many Gotdamn People who have made Too Much Gotdamn Music) but i don't actually currently own a lot of the physical media there, so none of this are pointer from like. oh here is a workflow i am using etc, but)

answers to your two questions are 1) file sizes really depend on lots of factors but rule of thumb is that in a collection of 'normal song' mp3 file size averages out to 5-7MB a song, and a 3-4min mp3 file being >10MB is surprising

and 2) re: storage prices, 1TB (~1,000,000MB, so probably ~166,666MB 3min mp3's) in external harddrive will run at about £50 in western digital brands atm (western digital is what i've been occasionally looking at for my data management thing bc i've seen it mentioned specifically as more reliable than seagate, which i have had issues with; anecdotally, my mum's WD elements has lasted her about a year longer than her seagates kick the bucket). prices atm on curry's stack up at £80 for 2TB, £108 for 4TB, £180 for 8TB

refurbished is an option when it's 'rectified' and sold by the company itself; for WD, those prices atm stack up at £30 for 1TB, £35 for 2TB, £55-60 for 4TB (their page for these are https://www.westerndigital.com/en-gb/products/recertified) (i do not know enough about this area and would wanna look up specific reviews on a company's rectifying track record before purchasing myself, so obv do the same)

answers to questions you DID NOT ask but may have later on if you do set out on the CD Digitization Project that i have answered preemptively bc i am ANNOYING:

tagging music with correct info is often the most time-consuming part of this shit, so a tagger is your friend. the musicbrainz database should have a lot of stuff covered, so their tagger picard might well do (https://picard.musicbrainz.org/, also has some good plugins for like formating multi-disc albums etc if you wanna scan through those), but tagscanner (https://www.xdlab.ru/en/index.htm) can also pull from discogs if needed, though you may still need a discogs account + to make an api key do use that

i was like. spike will probably appreciate it if i provided ways in which their dad could still be autistic about music in a digital format, but i'm having a hard time pulling up music players that meet my vision / make it clear if they do re: you can see cd booklet, and also this info seems to not typically be in databases. i'll carry on looking for players in this area bc i ALSO want this, but suggested desktop windows players other than windows media player / grooveshark / vlc (which are all fine, but imo none are the most intuitive for regular heavy listening) are my best friend foobar2000 (https://www.foobar2000.org/, also has a tagger that pulls from musicbrainz and maybe discogs?), musicbee (https://getmusicbee.com/, tagger plugins available), and aimp (https://www.aimp.ru/); deadbeef (https://deadbeef.sourceforge.io/) is created more to get your hands into with the technical stuff, but it's got custom metadata fields. really after you've looked to see if you think your dad would want a particular feature, unless space is a major consideration then it is just well what looks nicest.

file backup! backblaze (https://www.backblaze.com/) allows an external hard drive to be added in an image backup of a machine, which is the only good way to do a (pseudo-)sync backup without paying for cloud subscription or setting up a NAS etc; at $70/year it is obviously A Cost but way less than premium cloud drive subscription, so if it feels useful to know,

if the NAS mention / video at the end of that post wrt turning an old computer or laptop into a media server (so thing that is plugged into a wall that has files on it + a media player --> other computers / phones / etc on the same network (which can be outside the home too) can connect to that player and files) was interesting lmk bc i've also been looking into that a lot mostly as like, storage nerd aspirations, it's just a whole other thing that's irrelevant if you're more interested in just bunging stuff on an external drive (i've send this as an ask with the intent for you to keep it On File, so sent me another or a dm to lmk!)

you are not at ALL annoying you are a godsend!!!!

the thing abt my father is he is actually better at tech stuff than me (he ran his school's website & also michael's website, in the 00s, when that meant he built them from scratch) (he's still a little bitter abt his school outsourcing their website to whatever service every school uses nowadays. he used to add little falling snowflakes in the winter n april fools jokes n such), so yes i was very much anticipating saying to him like. find a backup storage method you like and i will do the legwork of actually ripping n sorting everything

i did NOT know taggers even existed but holy shit yes i will definitely need one. i do not anticipate him ever actually getting rid of his physical copies – smth he has already done is buy a ton of plastic wallets n move the CDs & booklets into them so instead of ur standard plastic jewel case taking up all that space it's effectively as thin as the actual CD – & also he no longer has a computer (i do not get this decision either. he just uses his phone????) so i doubt he'll need music player software. my thought is really 'he needs backups spare CDs and a CD writer so if any die they can be replaced'

however i will definitely look into the music player software, and maybe also forward this info to my brother (if it's even news to him, he's the kind of music autistic who has a £200 pair of headphones). thank you SO much <3

edit: just saw ur second ask n shdgdhd yeah i am gonna bookmark this post, my askbox is a pit things vanish into forever

#asks #fixion #long post #when i actually have disposable income again i am gonna buy myself a decent mp3 player #and then put on it the three dozen albums i listen to on repeat and also the murderbot audiobooks #and. well realistically continue to use spotify. but at least use less of my phone's battery on playing music

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slaylinski · 4 years ago

Text

5 Times Something Almost Happened And 1 Time It Did

Pairing: Sam x Bucky (AU) 5+1

Word count: 8704

Warnings: angst, major character death (mentioned), grief, miscommunication, Sambucky can be absolutely idiots sometimes, mutual pining, fluff, happy ending

Prompt: Sam and Bucky are obviously in love with each other, but each secretly thinks the other is the boyfriend of their recently deceased friend (Steve) and that they should respect the bro code.

A/N: So, I recently saw that prompt on IG and since there is no fanfiction out there that covers that I decided to write one myself. Prepare yourself for some misunderstandings, angst, grieving and sambucky fluff!

btw, shoutout to @januarystears and @gwen-novella for being my beta reader and emotional Marvel supporters🥰💕

Please be aware that English is not my first language.

Bucky was looking at the tombstone in front of him, still not able to process what happened the last few days. Steve Rogers was his childhood best friend. He remembered them being 5-year old’s trying to steal some of the cookies his mother had baked; he remembered Steve calling him at 3am on a Sunday, crying and telling him about his mother‘s car accident, the one that had made him an orphan. He remembered his parents not even hesitating for a second before they took Steve in.

And now Steve was gone. And everything Bucky had left were a few memories that were already starting to fade.

Since his parents were dead not many people came to Steve’s funeral. A few friends he had met in Chicago, Bucky’s family and of course Sam Wilson.

After he and Steve had finished college, Steve had gotten an amazing job offer in Chicago and since Bucky had decided to stay in New York, they had had to adapt to not being able to see each other every day. They had still managed to see each other monthly, most of the times Steve coming to New York, since Bucky’s family, meaning Steve’s family, was still in New York as well. And every time they had visited each other Steve had talked about Sam. Every damn time. Bucky had felt like he already knew the other man. Obviously, he had been happy that Steve had found a boyfriend in Chicago.

Since Bucky was bi and Steve had been gay, they had had a few first times together. From having their first kiss with each other to some things he was not going to mention here. They had tried to make their relationship work, but ultimately decided they were better off as friends. Since then they had not really talked much about their relationships. The only thing that had mattered to Bucky had been that Steve was happy and the way he had talked about Sam had made Bucky realize that he had been happy.

“You okay, man? “ Bucky looked to his left and stared into a pair of brown eyes.

“Yeah, I am okay," he said quietly, which was far from the truth. He still could not believe that Steve was dead.

“I am Sam, Sam Wilson," Sam introduced himself to Bucky, which made the latter chuckle. “Yeah, I already know that. Steve talked about you, a lot," Bucky tried to smile but his eyes were still focused on the tombstone in front of him.

“You know, it is a shame that he never introduced us," Sam said.

“It really is, but I feel like I already know you from all the stories Steve told me about you. I am glad he had someone in Chicago who took care of him. I am sorry for your loss," Bucky felt terrible. He felt like he could not breathe, like drowning but not being able to swim to the surface.

“I am really sorry too, Bucky," Sam whispered. Bucky barely remembered the next few hours. They went to the Barnes house for a funeral service. He saw his sister Becca who tried not to cry but miserably failed, he met his parents’ eyes. His mom was silently crying, and his dad wore sunglasses, trying to hide his swollen eyes as well. To his parents it was like they had lost one of their children. To Becca and him it was like they had lost their brother. And Bucky could not even imagine how hard it was for Sam to lose his boyfriend, his significant other, the person he wanted to grow old with. However, Sam looked more pulled together, like he tried his best not to cry in front of Bucky. Which Bucky understood, it was not like they knew each other very well.

“Do you want something to eat?" Sam asked and tried to feed Bucky some of the cake that was sitting on the kitchen counter. It was one of the many cakes people had brought over to the Barnes house after they had found out about Steve’s death. Everybody had loved Steve Rogers and it was a real shock to them that he had died at such a young age. Bucky, however, did not feel like eating. He felt like sleeping. Like the kind of sleep that makes you forget reality, the one that comforts you. He had not slept for the last couple of days, he was afraid of dreaming, afraid of dreaming and waking up. Afraid that his mind was going to dream about Steve and then him waking up and realizing that it was only a dream and that he was really gone.

“No, thanks. Do you want something?" Bucky asked but Sam shook his head. It was the first time that Bucky took a closer look at Sam Wilson. He was a little bit shorter than Bucky. His brown eyes were warm, and they looked worried, and Bucky felt like Sam was as close to breaking down as he himself was but tried to hold it together. The longer he looked at Sam, the more he understood Steve when he had talked about how warm Sam's eyes were or how good his smile looked. Sam was exactly the type of guy Bucky would go for. Sam tried to comfort him, and Bucky did not understand why. It was not like he had lost his boyfriend. He had lost his best friend, which was pretty hard as well, but not as hard as what Sam was going through now.

“Sorry, I need to get out of here,” Bucky told Sam and rushed out of the house.

The Barnes house was pretty small, barely enough room for two children, but they had squeezed together when Steve had moved in. The backyard had a small garden. A bench facing the giant cherry tree Bucky and Steve used to climb up.

Bucky felt his lip tremble and sniffed. He was all alone now. Steve was gone and there was nothing he could change about that. He felt a tear slipping down his face and tried to wipe it away with his shirtsleeve, but his stupid shirt was too tight, and he could not reach his eyes, and everything was just stupid.

A few moment later his vision was blurred with tears and he tried hard not to sob. It was horrible. He had not even realized that Sam had followed him outside until he felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Hey, it’s going to be alright, Bucky,” he said and tried to calm him down. The second he noticed Sam; Bucky felt like shit. Sam had just lost his boyfriend and Bucky was out here crying and not even thinking about Sam for a second.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky looked at Sam. “I just… I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now and I-,” he tried to continue but Sam interrupted him.

“If you try to apologize for having feelings, Barnes, I am going to throw you into your neighbors’ pool,” Sam pointed to his right to the swimming pool next to them. “I’m not joking. I don’t know what Steve told you about me, but I’m a man of my word,” Sam laughed. Bizarrely, Bucky laughed as well, like a real laugh, not the ones you fake to seem polite.

“You know, he would’ve hated that,” Bucky declared.

“What? “

“Us here, moping around. He would have wanted his funeral to be party. Has he ever told you about the first years of his life?”

Sam shook his head.

“When we were younger, Steve used to be sick, like all the time. He had the worst allergies and asthma and everything you could possibly imagine. Some winters were hard, there were times when he was in the hospital for week.

Then one time he had this stupid idea to plan his funeral because somehow in his 10-year-old brain he was thinking that he was going to die. And me, being the other 10-year-old, agreed to that so we were in that chapel and he was reading a text that he’d written and playing some weird ass song he’d found on his Mp3 player and then we were all mushy and crying. A couple of weeks later he was home again. A few years after that, he got his height boost and most of his allergies were gone and he became the Steve you know,” Bucky hadn’t even realized that he was crying again but it was a weird combo of crying and laughing.

“God, I miss him so much already,” he sniffed.

“So, Steve Rogers would’ve wanted a party for his funeral? “Sam grinned, and Bucky couldn’t help but start to notice Sam’s laugh. The way his eyes crinkled and the way his whole body moved when he laughed.

“We’re going to get through this, Buck. I promise,” Sam put his arm around Bucky and patted his shoulder.

“You know, you can always call me if you want to talk,” this was the first time that Bucky saw that Sam had tears in his eyes as well. Sam quickly looked in a different direction but left his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky was not mad that Sam called him ‘Buck ‘, he felt horrible. He was a horrible person. His best friend had just died and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss his best friend’s boyfriend.

Sam Wilson was fairly sure that Bucky Barnes was one of the strongest people he had ever met. He could not even imagine what it must feel like to lose his boyfriend. Well, until the funeral, Sam hadn’t been quite sure if Bucky really had been Steve’s boyfriend because even though he had known Steve for more than 4 years, he still did not remember one woman or one man that Steve had ever mentioned with as much enthusiasm as he had radiated when talking about Bucky. So, it was kind of weird to Sam that they had only visited each other occasionally and still hadn’t been living together after so many years, but he hadn’t wanted to ask why. It was not his business anyways.

Even though he did not know much about Steve Rogers’ love life, he considered him one of his best friends if not his best friend. Therefore, it was hard on him to have lost Steve so suddenly. He had never heard of somebody dying of an asthma attack. Especially someone who hadn’t had one in more than ten years. He remembered Bucky’s call and nearly dropping his phone. Bucky’s parents had been Steve’s emergency contacts, so it was unsurprising that they, and thus Bucky, had gotten notified first.

He had been in the middle of cooking dinner for him and Steve, since they were sharing a flat. It was not like they were poor or not earning enough money, it was more about not being alone and being able to save up a bit for the future. None of them minded living with a roommate, though.

After the call he had travelled to New York to attend Steve’s funeral. It was not how he’ imagined his first trip to New York and it certainly wasn’t the way he had wanted to meet the famous Bucky Barnes. After the death of Steve’s parents when he’d been a teenager, Bucky’s family had been all he’d had left.

Sam had felt a little anxious, and even though two of his and Steve’s friends, Wanda and Pietro, had come with him, he still felt like an intruder. He still could not believe that Steve was really gone.

He recognized Bucky immediately. He had seen a lot of picture over the years and even met him one time via face time but that could not have prepared him for what he saw the first time he looked into Bucky’s eyes.

Even though he was on the verge of crying, he looked like one of the most beautiful men Sam had ever seen, and the second he thought of that Sam wanted to slap himself. He felt like the worst person on earth. His best friend had just died and all he could think about was how good-looking his boyfriend was. He was going to end up in hell.

For the next couple of days Sam felt numb. Bucky kindly invited him to stay over at his flat in New York, so Sam didn’t have to bother booking a hotel room or anything like that.

Since his boss had known Steve as well but could not attend his funeral due to business, he kindly gave Sam two paid weeks off. Sam was not sure how he was going to handle going back to the flat he shared with Steve. He already felt lonely and was not sure if he could handle throwing out Steve’s stuff.

But right now, he was thinking about a lot of different things, for example about Bucky, who was sitting right in front of him, eating a bagel for breakfast.

Bucky’s flat was not what Sam expected. After living together with Steve Rogers for nearly three years, he thought that he knew the way Steve liked to live. Pretty messy was an understatement. His room looked like it belonged to a messy 3-year-old. Bucky’s flat however was completely clean. So clean that Sam would not have been bothered eating off the floor. The thought of Bucky constantly reminding Steve to put away his stuff made him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Bucky looked at him curiously and swallowed the last bit of his bagel.

“Oh, nothing,” Sam tried hide his grin.

“Hey, that’s not fair. Tell me,” Bucky protested but he was smiling as well. The pretty smile, the one that made Sam’s heart flutter. He quickly put that thought aside.

“Well, you knew Steve better than me and when I see how clean your flat is all I can think about is how messy ours used to look.”

That made Bucky laugh as well. “You know, I asked myself the same question. Do you remember when you were on that business trip? That time I visited Steve, and it was the first time I saw your flat and I was shocked how clean it actually looked. Not that Steve was a messy, but I’m amazed how you managed to get along with him not putting his stuff everywhere.”

“Well at least he tried with you, whenever he was coming home, he just threw his jacket on our couch and went into the bathroom,” Sam laughed. `

“Yeah, he tried his best whenever he visited me,” Bucky answered.

‘Perks of being the boyfriend, Sam thought but didn’t say it out loud. He did not want to upset Bucky and tried to talk as little about Steve as possible, only referring to him when Bucky told him a story about them.

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky asked after they put away the dishes from their late breakfast. “I’m done sitting here and moping around. I need to get out of here, get some fresh air.”

“Do you have something in mind?” Sam looked at him. It was weird, even though he never met Bucky in person he felt like he already knew him. Steve used to talk about him all the time, mentioning him even when he was talking about the most unnecessary things. At first Sam thought it was cute, but after a while it kind of annoyed him. However, Bucky really was as great as Steve had described him. In the last days he got to know him and found out that he was one of the most generous and humble persons he had ever met.

“I actually do. I have been craving ice cream ever since I saw that Ben and Jerry’s commercial last night and thought that we could go to the Central Park,” Bucky suggested.

“Sound great. Let me get my jacket and I am good to go”.

They each grabbed their phones, wallets and jackets. Bucky stuffed his keys into the pocket of his leather jacket. Sam could swear that Bucky had at least five different versions of the same leather jacket in different colors.

Bucky’s flat was close to the Central Park since he lived in Manhattan. Sam was not quite sure what kind of job Bucky had but it must have been paying really well if he could afford living that close to the city. They didn’t talk much while walking to the park, but Bucky took the time to show Sam some of Steve’s favorite spots, for example his favorite coffee shop. Whenever they walked past a shop or cafe Steve used to like, Sam knew immediately because Bucky tensed up.

Obviously, Sam had never been to the Central Park in New York and he had only ever seen it on pictures so far, so he was surprised how big it actually was. There were a lot of children, parents and young people walking around. A couple of them were inline skating or even skateboarding. It was a sunny afternoon, which made for a crowded park.

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” Bucky asked him after they sat down on a free bench they found.

“Pretty much any ice cream flavor,” Sam laughed.

“You know, that was Steve’s answer to that question as well. He ate pretty much every flavor of ice cream I bought so I always had to hide it or buy an extra pack,” Bucky smiled but his eyes looked sad.

Sam wasn’t sure what he could do to make him feel better. And the worst was that he was still thinking about how good-looking Bucky was. “Just surprise me, okay?”

Bucky nodded and quickly walked away to the nearest ice cream van.

Sam leaned against the bank and closed his eyes. His mind was still trying to process Steve’s death. When he was younger his dad had died, and his mom had made him go to a therapist for a couple of months. The woman had told him about the five different stages of grief, and Sam was sure he was still stuck in denial. He just couldn’t imagine his life without Steve Rogers, and he still did not know how he would manage living on his own. He might get a different flat, one that was smaller.

His thoughts were interrupted by Bucky, who returned, carrying two ice cream cones in his hands. There were at least three scoops of chocolate ice cream on each one. Sam’s eyes grew big once Bucky settled the ice cream into his hand.

“I thought we might as well treat ourselves,” he only stated and started eating his ice cream.

If there was something worse than having the hots for your dead best friend’s boyfriend, it was watching his so-called boyfriend licking ice cream.

He quickly looked away and stared at the ice cream in his hand, which was slowly starting to melt.

“You know, I bought this for you so you could eat it. Not watch it melt, but you do you,” Bucky raised his eyebrows and looked at the ice cream that was slowly dripping around the cone.

“Yeah, of course. Is it a coincidence that you chose chocolate because it is Steve’s favorite ice cream or is it your favorite flavor as well?” Sam asked curiously.

“You got me there. It’s my favorite ice cream flavor, too. So now you know why I had to hide my secret ice cream stash in the freezer whenever Steve came around,” Bucky laughed.

They were quietly eating their ice cream when Bucky stood up all of a sudden and grabbed Sam’s hand. Bucky’s hand was warm, warmer than Sam had imagined. The former quickly pulled him to his feet and Sam felt himself blushing. Hopefully, Bucky didn’t see that.

“Come on, we are going to see the ducks,” Bucky shouted and ran to the lake that was in the middle of the park. Sam just laughed. Sometimes he felt like Bucky was still ten years old and not 28. He followed Bucky and found him a few seconds later, throwing the last crumbs of his ice cream cone to a little duck family that was quickly picking up the crumbs.

“You are such a child, Bucky.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes and tried to pet the small ducklings. However, the mother duck was not having that and tried to pick at Bucky’s hand. It even started to flutter towards him. Bucky let out a scream and started running to Sam. “Help me, ahh. It’s trying to kill me. Sorry duck, I was only trying to pet your babies,” Bucky exclaimed. “I wouldn’t hurt them.”

Sam was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. He noticed a couple of other people around him who were watching them. A few seconds later he just gave up and completely doubled over. He was wheezing and already feeling the weird looks he got from the people surrounding him. Tears started to form in his eyes and that was the first time the last few days that the reason for them was not him being sad.

Bucky finally came over to him, laughing as well. “They were so cute, I just had to,” he exclaimed, and before Bucky was able to say another word, Sam grabbed him by his hips and pulled him over to him. He let his hand sit on Bucky’ waist for a short moment until he realized that Bucky was staring at him, especially at his hand. Sam felt blood rushing into his head. He probably looked absolutely flustered and he noticed that Bucky was blushing.

“Anyways. They were cute and Steve loves, I mean loved, ducks,” Bucky said quietly.

After hearing Steve’s name Sam felt guilty again. Following that awkward incident, they quickly went back to Bucky’s apartment and never mentioned it again.

Ever since Sam had left to go back to his flat in Chicago, Bucky felt lonely. He had never felt that way when Steve had left him to go back to Chicago or when his other friends visited. It might have to do with the fact that Sam was the first person who really calmed him down after Steve’s death. His parents and his sister tried their best, but they were still trying to process the fact that Steve was gone. Sam’s reaction to Steve’s death was different. It almost made Bucky a little angry, because how could he not have cared about Steve, but then he remembered that Sam hadn’t know him as well as the Barnes family. Sam might have tried to pull himself together because he had not wanted to cry in front of Bucky. The last couple of days Bucky had gotten to spend with Sam he understood what Steve had loved about him. Sam was kind, made him laugh and the best thing, he was honest to Bucky.

Bucky’s last relationships had not been exactly what he pictured. The last girl he had dated had been someone named Natasha, who he’d met through work. She was nice and pretty, but after a few months she’d told Bucky that she did not see a future with him. He wasn’t sad that their relationship ended, he was sad because it meant he was alone again.

Right then, he was sitting on his couch, watching his favorite tv show. Suits. The first time he’d watched that show he couldn’t decide whether he would rather sleep with Donna or Harvey. Seeing that he was a lawyer himself, he knew the series was nowhere close to being realistic, but he still liked it. Practicing law wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured it in college but still, it made him happy.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. He quickly grabbed it and smiled once he saw the name displayed on the screen. Sam Wilson.

“Hey, Bucky,” Sam greeted him.

Bucky felt his chest flutter but tried to ignore it. Sam was his forbidden fruit, but he already felt like Eva ogling the red apple in garden Eden. Apparently, he and Eva would share going to hell.

“Hey Sam,” Bucky answered quietly.

There as an awkward pause.

“Something wrong?”

“Well, I don’t know if this might seem weird to you but yesterday, I was finally able to enter Steve’s room and was trying to sort his stuff and because he doesn’t have any family left, I thought you might want some of this and- “

Bucky interrupted him. “Sam, you are rambling. What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“I was just wondering if you might want to fly to Chicago and look through Steve’s stuff. Like, I know he would have wanted you to get most of his things. I understand if you are occupied with work but honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready to get rid of his things. It feels like I’m starting to forget him. I’m already starting to forget what his voice sounded like, and it’s starting to drive me crazy. And I know it’s a lot I’m asking of you and it is a shitty thing of me to cry to you about it, since he was your-,” Sam sniffed and before he could continue Bucky interrupted him again.

“To quote you, Sam: If you dare apologize for having feelings, I might throw you into your neighbor’s pool. Even though I don’t know if your neighbor owns a pool, but you get what I’m trying to say here,” Bucky could hear Sam laughing, although his voice was still a bit cracked. He sounded like he had been crying for at least a couple of minutes. Then again, Bucky would probably react the same if he’d had to sit down and sort out Steve’s stuff.

“I’m flying out to you tomorrow,” Bucky stated. He could hear Sam breathing. “You don’t have to if you have work to do or something else, I can get Wanda or Pietro to help me,” Sam said, guilt lacing his tone.

“No, you’re right. I should have thought about that earlier. It must be hard for you. Of course, I can help,” he assured Sam.

“Thanks, Bucky,” Sam replied.

“You’re welcome, Sam. I’ll text you my flight information.”

However, he did not mention that he was excited to meet Sam again. He was sure that the last thing Sam was worried about right now was finding a new boyfriend, and Bucky still felt guilty about even thinking that he had a chance with Sam. Sam had been Steve’s boyfriend and was grieving, and Bucky was selfish for thinking that Sam could like him that way.

Immediately after the phone call ended, he grabbed his laptop and started looking for flights straight to Chicago. Since it was on such short notice, the flights were way more expensive than usually, but he didn’t care about that.

The day he arrived in Chicago was rainy. The weather was characteristically bad, so he was glad that Sam had offered to pick him up from the airport. Once Bucky had grabbed his suitcase, he made his way into the arrival hall of the airport. He already noticed Sam from far away, due to the fact that the other man was waving like crazy at Bucky, which made him laugh. Sam was such a dork.

“Hey, I’m glad you made it. Thanks again,” Sam tried to carry Bucky’s suitcase, but Bucky pushed his hand away.

“I got it, thanks,” he still thought it was cute.

They walked outside to Sam’s car, talking about random things. Bucky noticed that Sam didn’t mention Steve’s name. He was probably waiting until they got home, and Bucky did not want to upset Sam any further, so he did not mention the deceased’s name as well.

Bucky could count on one hand how many times he had been to Steve’s and Sam’s flat. It was still weird to him that they did not sleep in the same bed. But after knowing Steve Rogers for nearly two decades, it was impossible for even him to sleep next to Steve. Whenever the latter had slept, he’d snored so loud that Bucky had been sure the neighbors next door could still hear him, so he did not blame Sam for having wanted a separate bed.

The flat had not changed much since the last time Bucky had been there. The walls were decorated with a lot of artwork - most of it done by Steve. While Bucky was not able to draw a straight line, Steve had been able to draw the most amazing things with only a pencil.

“You can keep some of them, if you want,” Sam commented and squeezed his shoulder.

“Yeah, that would be nice, but you should keep most of them. They’re in your home, anyway, so why should I take ‘em with me.”

Sam only stared at him in confusion.

“I guess I’ll move into a new flat once we are done here. It’s too big for me anyway. Might as well get another roommate,” Sam stated.

“Roommate?” Bucky looked at him “Aren’t you a bit old to live with a roommate?” he asked, seemingly confused. He knew Sam was nearly 3 years older than him and Steve.

“I am what?” Sam raised his eyebrow.

Immediately, Bucky felt bad. He was such an idiot. Sam had been living with his boyfriend for the last 3 years, of course he was going to feel lonely living on his own. “Nothing. Forget it. So, where did you put Steve’s stuff?”

Sam pointed to a couple of boxes that were lying in one corner of the living room. “I got rid of most of his clothes and furniture, apart from some t-shirts and hoodies. Thought you might want to keep some of these.”

Bucky’s eyes wandered to a green hoodie that was crumpled up in one of the boxes. He quickly snatched it and pressed it against his chest. It was the hoodie Steve had worn the day they had gotten their college acceptance. It even smelled a bit like Steve.

“You should keep it,” Sam mumbled, “I have so much of his stuff, and you have nothing and…” His voice started to crack.

Bucky felt helpless. He was trying to think of something that would make Sam feel better. The only thing he could think about right then was a hug.

He quickly wrapped his arms around Sam and pressed his chest against the other man’s. He could feel Sam’s breathing and heartbeat.

Sam started to calm down, still pressed against Bucky. They stayed like this for a moment until Bucky started to feel something. ‘Oh god’, he panicked. Not now. It had been a few months since he’d last had any physical contact and it was starting to show. Sam clinging and moving against him did not make things better. Bucky felt his face heating up and tried to think of a way to break out of the hug.

“You, okay?” Sam asked and quickly ended their hug. He’d probably felt something was wrong.

Bucky was still red and quickly looked away. ‘So much to not thinking about Sam in that way,’ he thought to himself.

“Yeah, everything’s alright,” Bucky just knew Sam had felt it. However, he was glad that he didn’t mention it. It was already awkward enough for him. They continued to look through Steve’s stuff and neither of them said another word.

“I am glad you are here, Bucky,” Sam whispered after a while.

“I am really glad you called me,” Bucky responded. It was going to be okay.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Sam asked and started zapping through Netflix. It had been a couple of months since Bucky’s visit to Chicago, but he and Sam had been in contact with each other nearly every day. Bucky had started to slowly crawl into Sam’s daily life, but he did not mind it. Quite the opposite. The more he talked to Bucky, the more Sam caught himself thinking about the way Bucky smiled and laughed. The way Bucky’s eyes lit up when he talked about his work or his cat, Alpine. The cat was cute. Sam remembered Bucky finding her near the trash cans in the backyard of his flat and the moment he’d seen her he’d known that she was supposed to stay with him. Just like Steve and Bucky used to do, the two chose at least one time a month to meet up with each other. That month it was Sam’s turn to visit Bucky.

Right now, they were sitting on Bucky’s couch. Bucky was on his phone trying to figure out what he wanted to eat for dinner. Alpine was cuddled against Bucky’s chest.

“I don’t care. Chose something you want to watch,” Bucky answered Sam’s question. He stroked Alpine’s white fur. The cat snuggled closer to Bucky and purred. Sam could not blame her. Bucky’s chest did look comfortable.

“Okay, then.”

It still took Sam more than fifteen minutes to find a series he wanted to watch.

“Have you decided on what you want to eat?” he asked Bucky, who was still scrolling through his phone.

“No,” Bucky let out a groan. “They have so many options. How am I supposed to choose? I want fries and sushi and pizza at the same time,” he exclaimed.

Sam laughed. One of the many things he had learned about Bucky in the last couple of months was that Bucky loved food. It was close to being an unhealthy obsession.

“Well, how about we just get something small of everything and share?” Sam offered but Bucky did not seem convinced.

“Sam, I don’t want to share,” he pouted.

“Okay, well, that’s your problem. I already know what I want to eat,” Sam crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch. It was comfortable and probably cost more than Sam’s monthly salary. He had learned that Bucky was a corporate lawyer, which explained how he was able to live so close to Manhattan. It also explained the amounts of money he was able to spend on food. The first few times, Sam had tried to split the bill, but Bucky had always protested. Sam had stopped trying after that. It was sweet of Bucky, and Sam wondered if that was the way Bucky had treated Steve as well. The more he got to know the other man, the more he caught himself falling for him. He knew it was wrong, and that Steve would probably hate him for feeling that way - he even hated himself a little bit for it - but he couldn’t change his feelings. He tried his best not to get too touchy with Bucky, but he failed sometimes.

“I want pizza.”

Sam looked at Bucky. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Bucky started to scratch Alpine’s belly, and the cat purred in response.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. He knew that Bucky would probably change his opinion once the pizza was here, but he still called the pizza place and ordered.

45 minutes later the doorbell rang, and Bucky stood up to answer. Alpine looked up in confusion once she noticed that Bucky was gone and started walking towards Sam. After looking at him, she decided he was worthy and cuddled against his chest. Sam patted her.

“Oh, this is so cute, I need to take a picture,” Bucky had returned with two large pizza cartons and a smaller one containing some garlic bread. Sam smiled, but the second Bucky got his phone out, Alpine jumped up and quickly walked away.

“Stupid cat,” Bucky mumbled. It was almost like she heard him because she turned her head and hissed at him.

“Great, now she’s mad,” Sam sighed.

“She’ll get over it. Here’s your pizza,” Bucky gave him his carton and settled down to eat his own pizza.

“By the way, my sister wants to finally meet you,” Bucky said after a few minutes. It didn’t take him long to finish his pizza and he moved on to the garlic bread.

“I can’t wait to meet her. Steve used to talk about her all the time. He really loved her like a little sister.” Sam didn’t know Becca personally, apart from that short meeting at Steve’s funeral, but back then hadn’t really been the right time to get to know her better.

“Yeah, he really did. She is our little sister,” Bucky mumbled, a sad undertone present in his voice. Sam wasn’t going to lie, he thought about Steve a lot, but whenever he visited Bucky or got a message from him, the thought of his best friend was pushed a little bit further back in his brain. Every time he caught himself doing that, he felt guilty. Guilty for starting to forget the way Steve’s voice sounded, for getting a smaller flat because he couldn’t stand continuing to live in the same flat, he used to live in with Steve and mostly, guilty for slowly starting to fall in love with Bucky Barnes.

He wondered if Bucky sometimes forgot about Steve, too, or if Sam was just a horrible friend. He didn’t have the courage to ask Bucky about it; he did not want to lose the closest thing he had to a best friend since Steve.

They continued to watch the series. After a while, Alpine came back from wherever she had hidden. She settled into the crook of Bucky’s arm and looked into Sam’s eyes. He almost felt caught by her. He did not really like cats; however, he made an exception for Alpine.

Shortly after the movie, Sam noticed that Bucky was snoring. He was leaning against Sam’s shoulder, Alpine still lying on him.

Sam caught himself watching Bucky for a few seconds. He looked so cute and calm and the way he was resting against Sam’s shoulder gave him goosebumps. His skin looked so soft, and Sam had to fight with himself not to touch his cheek. He decided to close his eyes for a few minutes as well.

The next morning, Sam noticed something furry on his nose, tickling him. He sneezed and opened his eyes, only to look at something white. He tried to push Alpine away from his face and started to look around. He remembered falling asleep on Bucky’s couch. He noticed that somehow during the night, Bucky had shifted and was now laying on Sam’s chest. Sam’s arm was wrapped around Bucky’s torso. He tried to shift without moving too much but failed. He looked at Bucky’s face and noticed that the younger man was still sleeping peacefully.

‘Great and now I have to pee’, Sam thought. He ran his other hand through Bucky’s hair. It was as soft as he imagined. A few minutes later Bucky’s eyes fluttered, and a pair of blue eyes started into Sam’s.

“Morning,” Bucky said with a rusty voice. It took him a while to notice that he was lying nearly on top of Sam.

“Have you slept well?” Sam asked.

Bucky nodded and stared at him so intensely that Sam briefly thought he was going to kiss him. However, Bucky quickly sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“So anyways. Do you want some breakfast?” Bucky changed the topic, already half up off the couch and on his way into the kitchen.

Sam stared after at him. ‘What the hell was that’, he thought but shook it off and quickly followed Bucky into the kitchen.

Today was the 6th month anniversary of Steve’s death and Bucky’s day had already started out shitty. Firstly, he’d nearly missed his alarm clock, then his client had stood him up for lunch and finally he’d managed to spill his coffee all over himself and had to ask his assistant to get another one. He was currently sitting in his office, staring at the framed picture in front of him.

It was a picture of him and Steve when they were younger. He still could not believe that Steve had been gone for 6 months. It felt like yesterday to him how he’d called Steve nearly every evening to talk to him about his boring day.

The only thing he was looking forward today was that he was finally going to see Sam again. Thinking about the dark-haired man made him smile. The last time Sam had visited had been kind of weird. That one morning, they’d woken up all cuddly and Bucky had nearly kissed Sam. Thank God, he’d caught himself in the last moment. Sam would have probably thought Bucky was a horrible friend, and Bucky refused to lose his newest friend to something as stupid as a little crush.

He probably felt like that because the last time he’d had sex had been back when Steve had still been alive. Yeah, that was the most reasonable explanation as to why he could not stop thinking about Sam’s lips and his toned arms. He quickly looked back at the file in front of him. It was a case about a holding company that was trying to sell one of their firms they owned. It was boring, to say the least. He tried to get it done as quickly as possible.

Finally, a few hours later, Bucky was able to close the file. He looked at his clock; it was 20 past 7pm already. His eyes widened. He was supposed to meet up with Sam at 7pm at his flat. He pulled out his phone and noticed that he had a missed call from Sam and a few text messages.

Barnes, you there?

Buckyyy

Where are you, man?

Okay, I am just going to let myself in, I know where your spare key is 😊.

Sam had added a bunch of random emojis, and Bucky smiled. Of course, he knew where Bucky’s spare key was.

Bucky packed up his things, bid goodbye to the colleagues who were still in the building and made his way home. He was pretty sure Sam was comfortable enough in the flat to entertain himself, so Bucky ended up picking some food on the way. Thai. It was Steve’s favorite food.

As he opened his apartment door, his hands full of takeaway boxes, he could already hear the TV. Once he entered the living room, he could see Sam lying on his couch. Alpine was sitting on his lap and Sam was cuddling her. It was adorable.

“Hello, person who does not live in my home,” Bucky said and walked over to place the food on his couch table.

“Well, I decided I do now.”, Sam exclaimed. “Your cat likes me better anyways. Isn’t that right, Alpine?”

The cat snuggled closer to Sam.

“Traitor,” Bucky whispered. But he was glad that Sam liked her as much as he himself did. They were a package deal.

“What is that?” Sam pointed to the food boxes.

“Food, duh. Thai. It was Steve’s favorite,” Bucky said. After mentioning Steve’s name, he noticed how Sam tensed up. Bucky decided not to comment on it; instead, he sat down next to Sam and started opening the food boxes.

“Fuck,” Sam whispered and ran his hands over his face. “I can’t believe it’s been 6 months already. How has he been dead for 6 months? I feel like it was yesterday that I talked to him, we were planning a trip to California this summer. We wanted to take my nephews to Disneyland. There were so excited and devastated when I told them we could not go anymore and cried when I told them why.”

Bucky felt his heart aching. He knew Sam had nephews.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Bucky said and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance.

“I still cannot process that he really is gone. Some days I forget that he is dead, just for a short moment, and then reality hits and I feel like I just want to fold myself into a corner and cry. He was my best friend.” Bucky looked down and noticed that Sam had started to sniff.

“You know, I still get nightmares about the day you called me,” Sam admitted.

Bucky saw a single tear roll down Sam’s face and he quickly wiped it away with his sleeve. The man next to him looked so small and vulnerable. Bucky wanted to hug him so badly.

“I always wonder what would have happened if I had been with him. I should have made sure he’d take his inhaler with him. God, I am so sorry, Bucky,” he started to sob.

Bucky froze. It was the first time Sam cried in front of him. He felt helpless, the only thing that he could do was try to comfort him.

“It’s okay, Sam. It was not your fault. Steve was an adult, he should have known better than to not carry his inhaler with him, even if he hadn’t had an asthma attack in more than 10 years,” Bucky tried to calm him down, but that made Sam even more upset.

“I was supposed to look after him, you trusted me to look after him-“Sam was starting to hyperventilate.

“You did, Sam. You did. It was not your fault, and it wasn’t mine either. It was just a stupid, terrible thing to happen, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Please stop trying to blame yourself for his death,” Bucky shouted. Apparently, this was the only way Sam understood he was not responsible for what had happened to Steve.

Sam stared at him, not being used to Bucky raising his voice.

“I’m serious, Sam,” Bucky said again.

“You are way too good; do you know that Bucky?” Sam said with a weird mixture of laughing and crying. “God, I still miss him so much.”

“I miss him too, Sam, but Steve would have wanted you to move on with your life. He would have wanted us to live the best life we could possibly have. And I know that sounds harsh but please don’t blame yourself.” Bucky wasn’t sure if his words were what Sam wanted to hear. He would either think that Bucky was a total asshole for thinking that he should move on this quickly after his boyfriend died or he would agree with him.

“Yeah, you are right. He would have wanted me to move on. He would have wanted that for you as well, Bucky,” Sam answered quietly, and the next thing Bucky knew he was pressing his lips against Sam’s.

+ 1

Sam felt Bucky’s lips pressing against his own. At first, he was shocked that Bucky really was kissing him but after a few seconds he returned the kiss. He pulled Bucky closer to himself and started moving his hand to the other man’s neck. Bucky groaned and started to move closer to Sam.

It was everything Sam had dreamed about for the last couple of months and if Bucky was ready to move on from Steve, Sam was ready for that as well. They continued to kiss for a while, none of them saying a word. The sound of them kissing was the only one heard in the apartment. Sam was already starting to slip his hand under Bucky’s t-shirt when Bucky suddenly pulled away from him.

“No, no, no-,” he exclaimed and looked at Sam, both their lips slightly swollen from their kissing.

“This is wrong,” Bucky whined.

Sam could almost hear the crack his heart made the second Bucky stopped their kiss. Of course, he thought it was wrong. Steve and Bucky had been together for more than 5 years or maybe even more, obviously, Bucky wouldn’t move on so quickly.

“God I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Sam,” Bucky looked at him with blue eyes and Sam wanted to kiss him again, so badly.

“Sorry, I just thought that… you’re right, this is not fair to Steve. God, I’m a horrible person, Steve would hate me,” Sam whispered ashamed.

“No, I’m the bad friend. I kissed you. I kissed my dead best friend’s boyfriend. I’m pretty sure they have a special place in hell for people like me,” Bucky let out a groan.

Sam looked at him confused. What the hell was he talking about?

“I was his what now?” he asked and stared at Bucky.

“Boyfriend, partner, significant other, I don’t know what you called each other, but I’m pretty sure that if there was one rule for friendship it’s that you don’t make a move on your friends’ partners,” Bucky gestured between Sam and him.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he was out of breath and pushed his hair out his face. His cheeks were starting to get redder.

“No,” was the only thing Sam said at first. “You’re his boyfriend”, he continued and pointed at Bucky.

“Huh?” Bucky replied, still confused.

“No, you are. He always talked about you and he visited you nearly every week and-,” Sam was starting to ramble, but Bucky interrupted him.

“You two were living together?! I thought you were his boyfriend, what was I supposed to think? I didn’t assume two grown men would be living together as roommates,” he exclaimed.

“Hey,” Sam felt offended.

Bucky quickly noticed the way Sam looked at him. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just…I thought you were his boyfriend.”

“No, I’m his best friend,” Sam answered, this time a bit louder. What the hell was going on?

“No, I’m his best friend,” Bucky mumbled, still trying to process what had happened in the last few moments.

“Wait. So you’re not in a relationship with Steven Grant Rogers, and you never were?” Sam asked slowly.

“No,” Bucky answered, though it sounded more like a question. “I mean we used to when we were teenagers, but that’s nearly a decade ago.”

“And you’re not in a relationship with Steve either, right?” Bucky added and looked into Sam’s eyes.

“Nope, and I never was.”

There was an awkward silence between them until Bucky asked Sam, “So, the last few months you thought I was grieving my boyfriend, while I thought you were grieving your boyfriend?”

It was the thing that made Sam crack. He started to laugh. Loudly. He even started wheezing, tears forming in his eyes.

“I cannot believe this. That little shit,” Sam cried out. “He never corrected me when I referred to you as his boyfriend. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

Finally, Bucky busted out laughing as well. “We’re so stupid. We could have just asked each other but instead we just assumed that the other was the grieving widower.”

Sam could feel the way Bucky was staring at him, trying to figure out what to say next. Sam, on the other hand, knew already what he was going to do next. He got closer to Bucky and kissed him again.

This time Bucky didn’t hesitate and pushed himself against Sam. “You know,” he mumbled between kisses, “We could have done that way earlier.” The complaint was evident in his tone.

“Better late than never,” was the only thing Sam answered before he kissed Bucky once more.

And somewhere out there, Steve was looking at them, smiling to himself and thinking how much of an idiot both of his best friends were.

Feel free to leave any comments or any suggestions for improvement!

Thank you so much for reading my first ever English written One Shot! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. I'm really looking forward to writing more Marvel fanfiction, especially Stucky and Sambucky.

much love, your local stucky shipper xx

***

#angst with a happy ending #angst #major character death #grief #miscommunication #misunderstandings #sambucky #mutual pining #fluff #happy ending #steve rogers #fatws bucky #bucky barnes #samwilson #captain america #thefalconandthewintersoldier #tfatws

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teamhappyme · 4 years ago

Text

a series of promising events (1/5)

aaron hotchner x female! reader

word count: 7.9k :)

a/n: hello hello hello! this is my first hotch fic, and the first of three parts (edit: it’s actually 5 now lolol). it’s going to cover 8 (maybe 9?) events over the course of several years, so it needed to be broken up in the most rational way possible. this is my baby, and has been in the editing process with my lazy brain since september. please, please, please, let me know if the timeline or anything is confusing to you! i have a tendency to under explain things (as my profs will testify to), and i don’t want y’all to be confused. i hope whoever stumbles across this enjoys!

also, big shoutout to @winterscaptain, you are a gift to the world, tali. i am in love with the ajf universe, and that shit inspired me to polish this piece up for the tumblr verse to see.

alright friends, here we go.

link to part 2: here

****

June 2005

You wouldn’t forget your first day in the BAU for as long as you lived. It was forever ingrained in your memory, the good, bad, and embarrassing moments all stored away. Stored away that is until Derek Morgan decided to dredge it back up as you passed your six month mark on the job.

Derek, Prentiss, Reid and yourself were finishing up paperwork in the bullpen after an unusually slow friday. You were usually the first one done, earning a groan from the doctor across from your desk. They all envied your English degree and professional writing skills.

“Hey bobo,” The nickname Derek had assigned to you was named after your alma mater, and extremely annoying. “Remember your first day, when I tricked you into doing Prentiss and my paperwork for almost two weeks?” You shook your head, not having to look at Morgan to be able to hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you think I could trick you again?”

7:47. Thirteen minutes earlier than you needed to be. Yet the room full of agents you were supposed to join was already filled. You liked these people already, they were punctual and functioned in the morning.

You pushed one of the glass doors open with your ballet flat, juggling your box of office supplies while keeping your crossbody balanced on your shoulder. The sound of fingers pounding on keyboards, phones ringing on loop welcomed you into the BAU. Along with a shove to your back, causing you to lunge forward. You felt something cold run down your back, cursing yourself for wearing a white blouse.

“Are you alright?” You looked up to find a tall mop of brown hair and big brown eyes looking down at you. “Well, I’m a little damp.”

He nodded while looking at your box full of sticky notes and pens. “You must be y/n l/n. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. We’ve been taking bets on what time you’d arrive. And you beat us all with your extreme punctuality.” You laughed. “Sorry to let you down. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” You extended your hand for him to shake, but he just stared at your extended limb.

“Yeah, he doesn’t do that sort of thing.” The new voice came into view, shaking your hand that was meant for Reid. He was tall like Spencer, but was lean with a smile on his face. Confident. “I’m Derek Morgan. When JJ told us the new recruit graduated with an english degree, I expected someone with tweed elbow patches and big round glasses.”

“You’re an english major? Statistically speaking, only three percent of the agents that have been recruited for the BAU didn’t have any background in law enforcement or field experience.” This wasn’t the first time you’d been questioned at the FBI for being a liberal arts degree profiler. Your english degree and your fresh age of twenty five left many people to dismiss you through your time in the academy. But you got used to it.

“Sorry to disappoint your stereotypical profile of an FBI agent,” You started, shifting your weight between your feet, now uncomfortable and a little embarrassed in front of your new co-workers.

“Oh I didn’t mean it as an offense. I-” “He’s a genius, but he lacks some social cues. You’re the first girl he’s been around that’s his age in the workplace.” Morgan added and Reid elbowed his ribs. You covered the smile on your face as the two of them started to quietly bicker.

“Let the poor woman go and settle in at least before you harass her.” A brunette woman in a black pant suit came walking toward you. She had a stern face while looking at the two men, but when she turned to you, her face softened into a smile. “Special Agent Emily Prentiss. You do not understand how happy I am to have another woman out in this bullpen.”

You laughed as she led you to the empty desk across from Dr. Reid’s. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Thanks.” You placed your box down before taking the place in. “I’m supposed to meet with SSA Hotchner,”

“Agent l/n,” All heads turned to the man descending the stairs into the bullpen. He was taller than the other two, and that was saying a lot since they practically towered over you. He had a clean boys haircut, paired with a suit and tie. No question that this was the unit chief you were to report to. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. Welcome to the BAU.” He shook your hand before looking at the others. “JJ’s ready to debrief in the conference room.”

And just like that, the three agents sprung into action, leading the way to the board room. “We can go over the particulars when we get back from Nebraska. You ready for your first case?”

His face didn’t change, no change of tone in his voice. He lived and breathed for the BAU. Until you noticed the wedding band on his left hand. It was always the first thing you looked for when you met someone new. It was shallow and patriarchal, you knew, but it was instinct. And it put you at ease knowing there was someone out there he was doing this for. Someone he didn’t have to hold this demeanor around.

“Ready.”

“Funny. But if you have any other insults to give, direct them to the head of the english department at Bowdoin. Mention that you’re talking about y/n l/n, with the 4.0 GPA.”

Prentiss led a slow clap as Derek shook his head.

“I think that’s what the kids are calling a ‘mic drop’.” Spencer added and you couldn’t help your laugh. “Alright kid, why don’t you get out of here before we inevitably find ourselves back.”

You turned off the lamp on your desk and grabbed your crossbody and backpack. “Have a good weekend guys. And Reid,” He looked up, and you laughed as he pushed his hair out of his face. “Please recite the old testament for these two if they mock me while I’m gone.” He gave you a mock salute as Prentiss flipped you off on your way to Hotch’s office.

In the six months you’d been here, these three people you shared the bullpen with had quickly become the siblings you never had. Morgan acted as your annoying older brother, constantly picking on you and Reid. Not only were you the newbie, but you were now the youngest, only a year behind Spencer. Emily Prentiss on the other hand, was the protective older sister you always dreamed of. She was confident and held her own against the male dominated team, but knew when to be soft spoken and caring with victims and the team when needed.

And then there was Dr. Spencer Reid. The smartest person on the planet, in your book. Sure, he was a little socially awkward and didn’t know when to stop listing off all the stats he knew, but you understood. He was consistently the youngest and smartest person in every classroom he walked into. There weren’t many people that wanted to get to know him without bullying him or picking apart his eidetic memory. Despite the problematic first encounter you shared, the two of you stuck together considering your combined intellect and young age. He taught you the ins and outs of the BAU, and helped you get accustomed to D.C. Although, Spencer himself hadn’t really ventured out into the city in the four years he’s been here. So the two of you tried to see as many things as you could in the rare weekends that you weren’t working a case. You worked your way through a third of the smithsonian's, and saw the Declaration of Independence. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little emotional while looking at it. Spencer had called you a nerd, and you didn’t mind one bit.

You walked up the steps to Hotch’s office, case reports in your hand from this week. The blinds were open, you could see him working through the stack of files on his desk. Despite the exhaustion written all over his face, his sport coat was still on, tie still impeccably tight around his neck. Even when he was in private he kept up the put together facade.

You knocked on the door, and heard a quiet ‘come in’ as you twisted the door knob. “L/n,” “I have my case reports from this week.” “Just place them on my desk.”

“How much longer are you here for?” He let out a sigh while closing the file in his hand.

“Another hour or two.” You opened your mouth to respond, but he beat you to the punch. “And before you offer to stay and help me, I don’t need any help.”

“You just don’t want to listen to me singing Coldplay under my breath.” He huffed out a semblance of a laugh. A month into your bout here, Morgan had accosted you on the jet on the way home from Milwaukee. None of you had slept in three days, and you were currently enthralled in your new mp3 player and Coldplay's newest album ‘X&Y’. After the third song, a paper cup was thrown at the back of your head, followed by a ‘I’m trying to sleep, bobo’ from Derek. It was a habit of yours that you had yet to kick.

“That’s part of the reason.” “I knew it.” He opened another file, and you took that as a cue to wrap up the conversation. You rummaged through your purse, looking for the blue envelope you sealed this morning.

“Um, I also wanted to drop this off. It’s for Jack, you mentioned he was being Christened this weekend.” You placed the card on top of the pile of paperwork, your cursive handwriting on top. “I was going to get him a stuffed animal or some type of toy, but he’s only three months old and wouldn’t know the difference. This check may be the penny that helps you guys afford Harvard.”

A real laugh escaped his lips now, as he picked up the card. “Thank you, y/n. You didn’t have to do this.” You smiled. “I know, but I wanted to. He’s a cute kid.”

He looked at the framed picture of Jack on his desk, then back up to you. No one else had mentioned the Christening after Hotch first brought it up. He was quiet, and only liked to talk about his family if he initiated the conversation. You could tell you were the only person who had reached out like this, with a simple gift.

Hotch had been the hardest person to get to know in your time here. Despite Morgan saying there are no secrets kept among the team, you knew these people had their demons. And Hotch certainly had enough both professionally and personally. You didn’t want to push the professional boundaries, but you always wanted to be present in the lives of people that you shared time with. To let them know you were thinking of them, and cared for them. It was probably your most damaging personality trait.

“I’ll let you finish your work so you can get home at a reasonable hour. Tell Haley I said hi.” He nodded. “I will y/n. Have a nice weekend.”

****

December 2005

You pride yourself in the fact that you haven’t shot your weapon in the year you’ve spent with the BAU. It meant that you were successful at connecting to these people’s emotions, despite the asterisk next to their name labeling them as a serial killer or sadist. Guns were there to protect you, and they were always the last result. But as you pulled up to a log cabin in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, you had a feeling your record was going to be broken.

The team was working a case where six bodies, two adult males and four teenage males, were found mutilated, along with a cut from sternum to belly button. It was the first case you worked that had no female victims. A small victory, in your mind. But, it was also the first case you worked that the profile of the unsub fit a sixteen year old girl, who had most likely been assaulted as a young child. When children were involved, the team acted differently. They were failed by the people that were supposed to care for them, they were consistently hurt with no one to turn to. And as a result, they would spend the rest of their lives paying for it.

You, Prentiss, and Hotch got out of the suburban, strapping the bullet proof vests onto your bodies. Thanks to Garcia, you had found the unsub’s location once she turned her cell phone back on. A cruiser pulled up behind you guys, two more cops falling out.

“Prentiss, you take the two officers down with you to the exterior basement access. L/n and I will take the main floor.” Hotch ordered as he pulled his gun from his holster.

You could feel the anxiety rising in your chest, but there was no time to calm it down. You barely had enough time to strap on your vest.

“Ready?” Hotch looked at you before taking another step toward the cabin. You nodded, pulling your own gun from it’s holster. “Ready.”

You followed him up to the front porch, announcing yourselves before kicking the door in. You cleared the living room as Hotch cleared the dining room and bathroom, leaving you both to meet up in the kitchen.

That was where you found her. You saw her first, hiding half of her face behind the rifle that she had pointed at you. She was trembling, dried tear streaks left on her cheeks. She was petrified.

“Stephanie Moore?” Her grip on the gun tightened at the mention of her name as you heard Hotch’s footsteps get closer. “My name is Y/n L/n, I’m with the FBI. I don’t want to hurt you Stephanie, but I need you to put the gun down.”

Hotch joined you on your left, both of you directing your weapons toward the young girl. “I did what I had to do to survive. They took everything from me, every last shred of dignity I had. I wasn’t going to let them kill me.” You never thought it would be possible for your heart to break while listening to an unsub. But this tiny girl standing in front of you, with her whole life ahead of her, it just hit you too hard.

“I know you did, Stephanie. You were so brave and so strong. Not many people could survive what you did.” She started to loosen her grip on the rifle, you were getting through to her. “I’m here to help you. I want to put an end to all of this.”

You glanced at Hotch and he gave the slightest nod, giving you the okay to take a step forward together. “I couldn’t let them get away with it.” Ever so slowly, the gun started to lower in her hands.

“You’re doing great. Just a little lower and this will all be over.” Before she could completely lower her weapon, you heard the storm door to the basement slam shut.

Stephanie jumped, raising her weapon back up in her hands.

“You said you were here to help me!” She exclaimed, the gun pointed at you as Hotch took another step forward. “I am Stephanie, but other members of my team are trying to help the boy you took.”

Fresh tears started to fall down her cheeks and you knew you were losing her. “Y/n,”

He whispered to you and she moved the gun from your chest to Hotch’s. “Shutup!”

“Stephanie, hey, look at me,” She shook her head, continuing her stare at Hotch. “He’s in on it, he has to be!”

“He’s not! He’s my boss, trust me, Stephanie.” You heard the safety go off, and before her foot landed as she took her first step towards Hotch, you emptied two rounds into her chest. He rushed forward as she fell, kicking away her gun and checking her pulse. Nothing.

You lowered your gun as your breathing increased, looking at the lifeless sixteen year old lying in front of you. A hand covered your mouth as you realized what you’d done.

You killed her.

You remembered what it felt like to be sixteen. Struggling to find your identity, wanting so desperately to be noticed by someone. For anyone to reach out and help you.

But you took that away from her. You ended her life before it even began.

“Are you guys okay?” You heard Prentiss come up through the basement, but your eyes were closed as she entered the room. “We’re good. Y/n took the shot.”

Hotch stood up and dared a look at you, taking in your grief stricken state. “Did you find the boy?”

“Yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

Before Emily could greet you, you ran to the corner of the room, heaving up whatever was inside your almost empty stomach. Your throat burned as you threw up for a second time, vaguely registering two people calling your name.

“You’re okay, y/n,” Prentiss approached you, gently resting a hand on your back. You coughed a few more times before a towel was being rushed to your side. “It’s okay.”

The whirring of more sirens forced you to open your eyes and straighten up from your sick position. Prentiss had eyes filled with concern, not letting go of you until you gave her a slight nod. She handed you a water before she exited the house, letting two uniforms in. They went straight to Hotch, asking questions and looking over the body before their eyes landed on you. You felt exposed, like you were the one lying lifeless on the ground for all to see. You took a few deep breaths to get your breathing under control, and tore your gaze away from Stephanie.

Hotch finished his conversation with the officers before walking over to you. “Hey,” He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but flinch. “It was a clean shot, but protocol states they have to take your gun and badge as well as give a statement to IA.” You nodded, taking your badge from your pocket. “They’re gonna take you back to the station and do an interview. This should all be wrapped up in a few hours. We’ll meet you back there, alright?”

You glanced up at his big brown eyes, warm as they bore into yours instead of their usual slanted nature. “Okay.”

The two officers escorted you to their patrol car, taking your badge and gun before you got in. You felt naked without them, like you were a nobody wandering the streets looking for someone to help, or looking for someone to help you.

It was a good thirty minute ride to the station from the cabin, and when you got there a detective from IA was already waiting for you. They led you into an interrogation room where they already had Section Chief Strauss hooked up through video call. Great.

The questions they asked were pretty straight forward, nothing that couldn’t be answered by a crime scene report from the technicians. But the government insisted on interviewing cops involved in shootings, just in case it wasn’t legal. As if anyone wanted to deal with the psychological repercussions of taking another’s life.

It took them nearly an hour and a half to get through the interrogation. In part due to you almost throwing up a third time as Strauss asked you to repeat the moment you shot Stephanie. They gave you a few minutes to regroup, some ginger ale and crackers from the vending machine to help settle your stomach. They took your fingerprints last, letting Strauss finish up with the bureaucratic discussion.

“That’s all for now Agent L/n. We’ll debrief tomorrow morning when you’re back in Quantico.” “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

They led you out of the interrogation room and back through the lobby leaving you at the conference room your team had been set up in the last three days.

The white boards were still littered with images of the victims, crime scenes, and the unsub. Piles of evidence were scattered along the table, and you tried to resist looking through them again. You knew if you went through the images of the mutilated boys again, you wouldn’t survive the emotional turmoil. But you needed to know that you made the right choice, the only choice to prevent more families from going through the same pain and suffering as the Corbins.

You turned to the white board, glancing at the first victim. Connor Corbin was fifteen years old, on the varsity soccer team, and involved in musical theatre. He was cousins with the teenager that abused Stephanie. She targeted all the men in her abusers life, letting them know what he did to her. Wanting them to understand the pain she’d had to endure because of their ignorance.

You looked through the rest of the victims, the abusers two younger brothers, father and uncle were among those killed. The boys were only twelve years old. You brought a hand up to cover your mouth, remembering meeting their mother on the first day you were here. JJ was the one to speak to her, as the communications liaison, most people trusted her with being the most empathetic. That fact was up for debate, in your opinion. She was a wreck, and JJ needed help comforting her from Morgan. But you understood, boy had you understood. Her whole family was killed.

“Y/n,” You jumped, startled by the new voices in the room. Hotch, Spencer, and JJ had arrived back at the station. “Did they clear you?”

You nodded as Spencer walked over to you. “Yeah, Strauss just wants to debrief again tomorrow morning.” “Of course she does.”

Section Chief Erin Strauss is a hardass and not the biggest fan of the BAU. “Did they give you your piece back?” Your hand immediately flew to your left hip, void of your gun and holster. “No, I completely forgot about it.” You went to move toward the door, but Spencer laid a hand on your forearm. “It’s okay, I’ll get it.” He gave your arm a comforting squeeze before leaving the conference room.

You spared a glance at Hotch as you started cracking your knuckles. “JJ, why don’t you call the airstrip, tell them to get the jet ready.” “Yes sir.”

In an effort to keep your mind busy, you started to take down the pictures from the white board, erasing all Reid’s notes in his barely legible handwriting. The boy had three PhD’s, yet couldn’t figure out the concept of penmanship.

“Are you alright?” “Fine.” You pulled an empty manila folder out, stuffing Connor’s pictures in. “You don’t have to clean this up for them.” “I know.”

He sighed. “Y/n, stop.” His voice was stern now and you dropped the files. “I asked if you were alright.”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright, Hotch?” You crossed your arms over your chest, letting a breath out. “We found her, we saved her from hurting anyone else, and we brought closure to Mrs. Corbin. Case closed, the BAU gets to go home.”

Your eyes started to water but you refused to bring your hands up to wipe them away. You wouldn’t let them fall. “We’ve all been where you are right now.”

“I’m confident that you’ve never felt what I’m feeling before.”

“Try me.” He didn’t flinch, his hands remained in his pockets, stare heavy on your own.

“When JJ presented this case to us, that two teenage boys and their fathers had been murdered, it was a no brainer for all of us to take it. Two twelve year old boys dead, two more teenagers missing, how could we not take it? But then we got here, and we met with the victims' families, we learned the boys' backgrounds, the unsub’s profile.” You scoffed, not sure who you were angered with at the moment. “This girl was raped by a seventeen year old boy and his father for two years, and we’re still supposed to treat her like a monster, like Tim Vogel?” You shook your head. “I’m not condoning what she did, but, can you blame her? And then we went in, and she had a gun raised at us. I would’ve been able to talk her down, I know I could’ve saved her if she didn’t have the gun.”

“But she had a gun.” You nodded. “She had a gun and it was raised at you. And I didn’t even flinch to take the shot. All it took was two seconds for me to forget her pain, her trauma, and reduce her to a sick serial killer.”

Even though that’s what Stephanie ultimately was, you didn’t want to accept it. Because she was a person before she went through all that pain, she was someone’s daughter, who was involved in gymnastics and softball, and had stuffed animals scattered across her bedroom. God, were you ever going to forget what she looked like?

“Feeling guilty about taking someone’s life is a good thing. It means your human, that you care.” Hotch freed his hands from his pockets, taking the file you packed out of your grip. “You’re not like them, y/n.”

You dared a glance at him as you felt more tears spring to the surface. Those big brown eyes could tell a story all on their own, and right now, they were pleading for you to believe him. You would try.

“Got the goods.” Spencer came back in, your gun and credentials in hand. “They really had the audacity to I.D. me, as if we hadn’t just worked a case with them the last seventy two hours.”

He got you to laugh, which served you enough cover to wipe your eyes dry. And out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a rare smile cross Hotch’s face.

But Aaron knew there was more to your guilt than just this little girl. He was the leader of this team, it was his job to know the people he was in charge of like the back of his hand in order to keep them safe. And in the year that you’d been here, he noticed how reserved you were. Too reserved and too broken for a twenty-six year old. How you took on the giver persona to hide the fact that you were terribly closed off to others and your emotions. You would be the first to offer help, to be a listening ear, or lend your shoulder to cry on. But you never accepted it from anyone. Not that you had to, until today.

When Hotch started to notice you and Spencer growing closer at the three month mark, he was excited. Proud, even. He knew you were struggling with the gruesome cases (he knew you threw up after every crime scene, despite your best efforts with barf bags and travel size mouthwash) and hoped you could share your burdens with the young doctor. But it seemed like they only grew in time, like the smile on your face. Hotch just hoped you knew your limits.

“Gather whatever else you guys need for Quantico. Wheels up in thirty.” Reid nodded for both of you as Hotch left the conference room, presumably to find JJ.

“Everything okay in here?” He asked as you continued to empty the white boards, this time at a faster pace. Of course he had noticed the red rim on your waterline and the red tip on your nose. Spencer could read you better than anyone else, regardless of being a profiler or not.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just talked through the case.” His feet stayed nailed to the ground, yet his eyes continued to stick to the back of your head. You sighed and stopped moving, turning to face him. “Spencer, I can feel you boring holes into the back of my head.”

He had a sheepish smile and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. We have copies of all this back at the office, I already faxed it over to Garcia. Why don’t we spend the next twenty eight minutes searching for a good burger before the flight home.”

You smiled. “Okay. As long as I can get a vanilla shake, too.”

****

May 2006

Growing up, you always wanted an office job. A boring nine to five with your own cubicle, a script to follow when your phone rang and a customer needed help. You’d have a generic wall calendar pinned on the particle board, sticky notes littering your monitor screen, and maybe a few pictures of pets and future family. It was safe, predictable, and what you were constantly told all you would be capable of.

Now, as you’re sitting on the FBI owned jet with your six special agent coworkers, you can’t imagine living that life you once dreamt of.

It was nearing two a.m., and you were two hours into the flight home from Los Angeles. Reid was passed out on the couch, Prentiss and JJ in the same state of mind in the cluster of four chairs, legs spread out. Morgan and Rossi were sitting across from one another, each listening to their own playlists. And by the way Rossi was tapping his fingers against the arm rest, you knew it was some genre of opera.

This left you in the back of the jet, staring out the window as you passed over Nebraska. You always had the map up on your screen, wanting to know every state you passed over. No matter the case, you always looked forward to the plane ride. It calmed you, oddly enough.

“Not tired?” Hotch took the seat across from you, handing you one of the two cups of tea. “Plane rides are too exciting for me to catch any sleep.”

You took a sip of the hot drink and your face scrunched out of instinct. You never liked tea, but you tried it again and again when people assured you that it would calm you down. It never worked.

“You could just say no,” He added and you smiled. “I know. But my taste buds may change one of these times.”

He took a sip out of his own cup, no change of expression on his face. You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips and his eyes narrowed on you.

“What?”

“Well, you may enjoy the taste, but it seems like it’s calming chamomile effect has never worked on you, either.” “We’re not supposed to profile each other.”

“Then don’t even think about rattling off excuses of why I’m not sleeping.”

He looked down at his cup, slowly nodding his head. “Well if you don’t want to talk about what’s really bothering you, because I know it’s not sleep, I can bore you with Jack’s sleep routine we have to stick to.” You smiled. “You know that I’m the only one on this team that would actually be interested in Jack’s sleeping routine. Hell, anything with that chubby little baby would interest me. Bring it on, Hotch.”

It was no secret that Jack Hotchner was your favorite person on the planet. Not only was he the chubbiest little nugget you’d ever seen, he was the result of two of the strongest people you knew.

The first time you met Haley, she was six months pregnant with Jack, begging Hotch to leave the office early for a date night. You made the afternoon walk up to his office, dropping off some files for him to sign when you first saw her.

“Come on, Aaron. This baby is going to be here before we know it, and who knows the next time we’ll have any alone time will be.”

Before he could respond, you knocked on the open door. Both of their heads snapped over to you, and a red blush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks. “Sorry to interrupt, sir. Just dropping off some reports for you to sign off on.”

You smiled at the petite blonde woman while placing the files on the desk. “It’s okay l/n. This is my wife, Haley Hotchner. Haley, this is Agent y/n l/n, she started about a month ago.” She smiled back at you, extending a hand to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’ll leave the agent part out, it makes you sound like a robot.” She said and glared at her husband before placing her hand back on her growing belly. You laughed once you heard Hotch let out a breath, knowing he wasn’t offended with her joke.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The smile only grew on your face as you looked at her, admiring her own belly. “Congratulations on the baby. It’s always exciting to bring a baby into the world.”

“Thank you. If only my husband thought going out with me was half as exciting, he would’ve been gone a half an hour ago.” “Haley!” He was more than surprised that she would speak so cavalierly while at the office, especially around someone he had barely gotten a chance to know yet. But the two girls only shared a laugh.

“Hotch, why don’t you go. I can hold things down around here.” “Y/n, it’s not your responsibility to. And quite frankly-” You dropped a file to the desk, boldly interrupting your bosses statement. You were only acting like this because you knew his wife deserved half the attention he gave to this place. “It’s a friday night, and your beautiful, pregnant wife is asking you to go to dinner with her. JJ and I will be here if anything comes up, I’ll even redirect your calls to my desk.”

“I like you.” Haley said with a smile, gently squeezing your shoulder. “She means business.”

Hotch let out a sigh, reluctantly grabbing his briefcase and punching a few buttons on his phone to make sure his calls went to you. “You or JJ call me immediately if I’m needed.”

“Promise. Now go have fun.” He gave you the smallest smile as he grabbed Haley’s extended hand to him. “Thank you, y/n. I owe you one.” Haley said as they exited his office. But you weren’t looking for a favor in return. You did this to make them happy, and you always felt better when those that surrounded you were at their best.

But Haley did end up paying you back. She asked you to babysit the first night her and Hotch went out after the baby was born. Apparently, she was impressed with your background in social services that Rossi had drunkenly let slip at the office christmas party. And only you would get excited to babysit a poopy baby, for free. And you continued to do it as many times as they needed you to.

You earned a smile from the reserved unit chief, and raised a fist in the air. “I’ll have to add that to the team tally sheet. I’m now tied with Reid for the lead in making you crack a human expression.” “Doesn’t matter who’s in the lead, you’re all behind Jack.” He quipped back and you returned his smile.

You looked back out the window of the jet, the view of any terrain was quite literally clouded. You could see the moon reflecting on the puffy clouds, and you knew then and there you could be converted to a night person if you could look at this view every night.

“I wanted to check in with you, about Randall Garner.” You looked back to your boss, eyes glued to your own, an earnest gaze in them. “With what happened last time-”

“Last time it was a sixteen year old girl. This time it was a psychotic father who was torturing his child. There’s a broad spectrum.”

“So you don’t feel guilty about taking his life?” The way your stomach flipped at the mention of your actions merely hours ago should have worried you more than it did.

“Of course I feel guilty.” You quipped back, and quickly looked around to make sure you didn’t disturb anyone else. Hotch didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t take this job to play God. I wanted to help people, I wanted to stop people from getting hurt. To be on the other side of the heartbreak.”

Before transferring to Quantico, you worked as a social worker in Brooklyn for three years, straight out of college. You saw first hand the horrors and trauma that came with being in the foster system, and you wanted to help children going through the same situation you had.

This became your life, even after you escaped it. And one day, it became too much. You needed a fresh start, to make a change and help people from a different platform. And with your degree in English, and minor in psychology, the BAU seemed to be a perfect fit for a new career.

“Why did you leave DCFS?” It irked you to no end how his voice stayed so calm when he was clearly agitated. Especially since the silky smooth tone had talked you off an emotional ledge one too many times.

“Why are you interrogating me? Strauss said it was a clean shot, that she was proud to have a man like that dead and accounted for.” A direct quote from the ever emotionless section chief. If only she had any field experience, she would understand what this job was like. “Besides, I’ve been here for a year and half. You should have my file memorized by now.”

“Half of your file is sealed. Strauss must have a soft spot for you.” You actually laughed at that. Strauss most certainly did not have a soft spot for you. She was however under orders from the Attorney General of New York to keep my file sealed, no matter my employer.

“My sealed file has nothing to do with the actions I took tonight.” You uncrossed your legs now and turned your body to face him. This conversation wasn’t ending any time soon. “If I needed help grieving this process, I would ask for it, Hotch. I’m fine.”

He wanted to believe you. More than anything else, he wanted to believe that you had found a routine that helped you forget the daily horrors you saw. But he knew that you were the last to leave the office every night, he knew you drove home with the light on in the backseat of your car every night. Deep down, he knew you weren’t fine.

“We don’t ever truly know the people we work with. Despite the fact that we say there are no secrets in this unit, we all have our own demons we hold onto. I know you’re not fine, y/n.” You let out a strained laugh as you started tapping your foot anxiously against the ground.

“I do though.” For the first time tonight, Hotch had no idea what you were talking about. His furrowed brow only made your throat tighten. “I know every single one of these people’s secrets. They confide in me because they know about my past with DCFS. Everything I knew was confidential, and it ate me up inside not being able to tell anybody the horrors these children go through.” You ran a hand through your hair; the flood gates were open. You feared there would be no turning back now. “It started out as me just wanting to get to know them. I wanted to be liked, and I wanted to trust my coworkers. And then overnight, I became Father l/n, sworn to secrecy by the Parish of the FBI. I’ve become a suggestion box, papers filling me up to the top and no one is coming to empty me out.

“But I can’t even be mad at them,” I said as my eyes started to water, remembering what Spencer said to me two months into our friendship. “Spencer told me I’m the only person that’s ever listened to his problems without suggesting that he see someone to talk to. He said I was the only person that’s ever laughed at his stuffy jokes without making fun of him. I can’t be mad at them for confiding in me in their time of need. But I’m just,” You tried to smile as a tear rolled down your cheek. “I’m just really overflowing.”

Aaron Hotchner was lucky enough to have never experienced a heartbreak in his life. He met Haley his junior year of high school, she was his first and only girlfriend, hurling him into a life of love and happiness, sparing him any pain from loving someone too much. But as he watched you break in front of him, feeling so overwhelmed by the responsibility to be everyone’s rock, to be everyone’s source of light, he experienced his first heartbreak. And he was sure he never wanted to feel it again.

“So confide in me.” You didn’t think his tone could become any softer. His baritone voice had already been strained to keep from waking the others, and he somehow became even softer. But you shook your head, quickly bringing your hands up to wipe the tears that fell down your face. “Why not?”

“Because you’re the boss. You have all of us to worry about when we’re in the field. You have Strauss breathing down your neck, waiting for one of us to screw up.” He rested his elbows on his knees, slightly leaning toward you. “Most importantly, you have Haley and Jack that need you to be their confidante. That beautiful family needs you to be there when you’re not here.”

“Y/n, if you can’t come talk to me when you’re drowning in your own thoughts, I’ve failed you as a boss.” He sighed at your continued silence. “I can’t force you to open up. But I can’t watch you give and give and give without earning a reprieve of your own.”

So the two of you sat there, in a deafening silence, as you counted the seconds passing by. You were both too stubborn to pull away first, because that would be admitting defeat, and this conversation would end then and there. You counted to one hundred and eighty seconds, three minutes, when you finally got tired of staring into the endless brown eyes of Aaron Hotchner.

You thought carefully about what you were going to say, what you would reveal in the magic that covered the two a.m. air. And no matter how hard you tried to in those one hundred and eighty seconds, you could not keep your eyes from watering.

“I grew up in foster care.” You started, scanning his face for any judgements. You weren’t going to find any. “The last, and most permanent foster parents I had were horrible. It was basic shit that happened to every kid in foster care, nothing scandalous enough to get them to be turned in. But their birth son,” You swallowed, trying to resist the urge to pick your fingernails. “He moved back in with them when I was fifteen. He was a loser, and he started to take a share of the subsidy checks. I heard him in the living room one night with Charlotte, one of the younger girls that lived there. She was only twelve, and I found him pinning her to the couch, a knife to her throat. And I just snapped. I lunged at him, knocking him off of her. It’s all blurry now, except for when I stabbed him in the throat.” My hand scratched at the side of my neck, subconsciously finding the spot I stabbed him. “He died before the ambulance got there. Charlotte and I both gave statements, and it was ruled as self defense. But the statement still lives in my file, and with some convincing, I got Strauss and DCFS to keep it sealed.”

In all honesty, Hotch didn’t know what to expect when you decided to open your mouth. But he never would’ve guessed this. Not from the doe eyed kid that never forgot a birthday, that got everyone a donut and coffee on Monday mornings. Not from the kindest person he worked with.

“You know that took a lot of courage to get out, so it would be nice if you could say something.” You started to panic, wondering if he saw you as a monster, as a killer.

“You were the oldest one there, weren’t you?” Your eyes widened, how did he know that? “You grew up quick and took on the role of the parent for those younger kids. You wanted them to be safe, stay innocent for as long as they could.”

You finally tore yourself away from his gaze, starting to become too strong. Baby steps.

“None of us had a family. I tried my hardest to shelter them from those people and make a family out of the five of us. And it worked. Because all four of them still reach out and tell me how successful they are.”

“But they don’t feel like your family.” You had a sad smile and looked back up at him.

“Do you ever stop profiling?” He mirrored the smile you gave him. “No, they don’t. But I was old enough to understand that they needed each other more than I needed them. Besides, I found a pretty weird family to take me in.”

You earned another laugh from Hotch as you made a check mark in the air, referencing the team tally. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, searching through the cash and cards he had in there.

“What are you doing?” He pulled out a thin wallet picture and turned it over to you. It was of him, Haley, and Jack on his first birthday. “You’ve got more than one weird family to belong to.”

He extended the picture to you, but you shook your head, the anxiety forming a pit in your stomach. “Hotch, this is your family. I can’t,”

“You can. And this family wouldn’t be half as happy as they are in this picture if it weren’t for you and everyone on this team.” You smiled down at the picture, Jack had frosting from his birthday cake all over his face. You reached out and took it between your fingers. “You’re a giver, y/n. You wear your heart on your sleeve and exude more empathy than we know what to do with.” You let out a laugh as you pulled out your own wallet now, tucking the picture in one of the plastic sleeves. “It’s time you learned how to accept the love you give.”

It was deep, too deep to be coming from your boss on the private jet at two in the morning. But he was more than just your boss, and they were more than just your team. And this job, boy this job was so much better than sitting in a cubicle, answering questions from a recited list.

****

#aaron hotchner x female! reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #jules writes shit ??

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silvysartfulness · 3 years ago

Note

Omg I saw that you used to write for the assassin’s creed fandom and honestly what a throwback 😭 are they on livejournal?

Aahhh, this is the part where I have to admit, I don't think I ever put any of those drabbles online! It was more a fun thing me and wife used to do, writing very very short 5 minute one-shots based on single word-prompts.

Oh, wait! Apparently I actually still have them, in an old folder of mine! Will post under a cut. These are AC 1-3-brotherhood, primarily focused on the latter.

La Volpe/Cesare post the fall of the Borgia was my main rarepair ship in that fandom, so that's the main (if occasionally only implied) focus for a lot of these. (CW some dubcon/non-con under the cut, so be warned.) 😊

1 Unwillingness

It goes against everything he is, a greater challenge than any battlefield taken on. Snarling, eyes blazing his defiance, Cesare submits for now.

2 Memento

”Something to remember me by,” murmurs Volpe softly against the sensitive skin of his neck, and it's all Cesare can do not to yelp as those vicious teeth leave a bleeding gash in his ear.

3 Baseline

He still doesn't trust Machiavelli, Volpe muses, and it's equally clear Machiavelli doesn't trust him. Perhaps their shared love of secrecy is the one dependent thing about their relationship.

4 Sniper

He has shot guards from rooftops, towers, horseback, beams and the treacherous crumbling tops of ancient stone pillars. So why was it, muses Ezio afterward, that he hadn't even thought of pulling crossbow or gun out as his sworn enemies held their short council in the courtyard a few measly yards below his feet?

5 Birthplace

It is in Masyaf the order of Assassins was born into what it is now. Searching for answers Ezio sets out on the longest journey of his life, back to the beginning of all.

6 Denunciation

It is hard to remember what it was like to have faith, Cesare thinks, but easy to remember when it was lost. What God could ever work through the instrument that was Alexander VI, his father?

7 Distaste

”Volpe, you didn't!” Ezio exclaims, his face a mask of distaste. Volpe smirks.

”Oh, it was not at all bad. Cesare is well trained.”

Ezio shudders. ”That is exactly what bothers me!”

8 Elimination

Constantly, frustratingly one step behind, it is little Cesare can do as his allies are meticulously taken out by the Assassins one by one. And yet it is not until the last of those on his side willingly turn their backs on him that he realizes this battle is lost.

9 Bluntness

”You can do as I say,” says the master thief matter-of-factly, turning the vial of antidote over in his spindly fingers, ”or you can spend the night dying slowly while vomiting your innards all over the floor. The choice is yours.”

Pale with fury Cesare chooses to live.

10 Turf

The Assassins had been myth, legend, bed-time stories to frighten a young boy already afraid of the dark. But as they dealt an all but deadly blow to his father inside the Vatican itself, Cesare grimly declares war. Roma is his city, and all who oppose his rule must be swiftly and mercilessly dealt with.

11 Assassination

He burns for the ideals, fights the fight with passion and utter devotion. But when Shaun's shaking hands lower the suddenly impossibly heavy gun he knows something he'dnever even thought about (Innocence? Compassion? Humanity?) has perished as surely as that very first body at his feet.

12 Apprentice

He remembers a gangly youth skidding across slippery roof tiles, trying so hard to keep up and even harder to hide his inability to do so. La Volpe silently studies Il Mentore and considers he's no longer sure who would lead the way across the rooftops.

13 Debris

Ezio swears as the ceiling collapses over the bed he shared with Caterina until moments ago – his armor and weapons are buried in the rubble and will be hard to replace. He does not yet know they will be the least of his losses this day.

14 Scolding

Altaïr has never been one to accept blame or criticism for his actions, but something about the way Malik's not-there left arm twitches as to shake a not-there fist in his face as the man speaks makes him look away in hidden shame.

15 Torrent

The rain pours down over the city, making roofs and cobblestones alike wet and slippery. Volpe tugs his collar tighter around his shoulders against the biting cold and idly contemplates if a trip to the Castello would be worth the trouble.

16 Anchor

He cheats and steals and tells honeyed lies with the ease of a snake. But his eyes can be oceans and his touch velvet – sometimes Ezio wonders if his always restless, inspiration-ridden friend keeps Salai around just to remember what it's like to be human.

17 Truce

”It would be nice,” says Machiavelli evenly, ”if you would not so readily name yourself judge, jury and executioner the next time you fall victim to unfounded suspicion.”

”Fine,” mutters Volpe, frowning. ”It would be niceif you were not so secretive. And stop trying to steal my spies. Get your own.”

”Fine,” Machiavelli replies with a minute smirk.

Fellowship is knowing just when your brother-in-arms is lying.

18 Nook

There are many unknown and unseen hiding places among the rooftops of Florence. On his back, hair plastered against his face and hot breath against his ear, Giovanni concludes it's very handy that La Volpe always knows to find one when you need it.

19 Orgy

These parties are more to his father's tastes than his his, Cesare firmly tells himself, perhaps letting his eyes linger thoughtfully on the multitude of courtesans a moment longer than intended. Then a familiar slender hand grazes his thigh and he is reminded that the only person even close to matching his own schemes, cunning and skill is the woman on the throne next to his.

20 Scoff

”I spend all my time in the Animus,” Desmond frowns, ”Lucy's keeping an eye on Abstergo and Rebecca... hacks and stuff. What do youdo, really? Anyone could use, what, Google and Wikipedia?”

Shaun grins or at least bares his teeth.

”You mean Templar Central One and Two? No, it's called obtaining knowledge, Desmond - sifted like little gold nuggets of fact from the vast sands of ignorance you're so fond of burying your head in. Google can't help you there, I'm afraid.”

21 Scolding

At the time, Ezio always figured Giovanni's constant nagging and pleading with him to stay out of trouble was only the worrying of an overprotective father. Only later was he taught discretion was part of the ancient Assassin's creed. He never got very good at it, even so.

22 Bonfire

No-one is entirely sure why Julius II has tempered justice with mercy for now and opted for his enemy's imprisonment rather than death sentence. As far as la Volpe is concerned, the way Cesare goes pale whenever the topic is brought up is at least good for entertainment.

23 Nakedness

Being exposed holds no particular shame for him, but the walls and floor are freezing to the touch, draining precious warmth from his aching body. Now would be a prudent time for an accursed thief to show up with a blanket to bargain for.

24 Arbiter

It was funny, Machiavelli drily noted in his notebook, how God and Divine Justice so often were on the side of the biggest army with the sharpest swords.

25 Purgatory

The land burns, smoke choking the sky and tinting the sun a sickly shade of blood. It is with a cold and unfamiliar sense of foreboding Cesare hurries through the flames toward the towering walls of the fortress to escape this hell on earth – one way or another.

26 Fingernail

Ezio has more than his fair share of scars adorning his hardened body, some remembered more fondly than others. He would never dream to ask Caterina to trim her nails, or use them just a touch more carefully.

27 Slavery

The Creed dictates freedom of thought, and in his reckless youth Altaïr would use it as justification for any rash impulse. But the older he grows, the more he comes to realize freedom and all its crushing responsibility can be the harshest master of all.

28 Carnivore

When confronted on his nasty habit of biting, Volpe only grins and quips something about foxes and their nature. Cesare is tempted to snap he's often seen dirty foxes prowling the back streets for garbage, but can see where Volpe would go with that, and so holds his tongue.

29 Bluntness

Ezio is too flustered after his mother's blunt request he find other outlets than vaginas to realize the enthusiastic young artist at his side seems more than eager to offer a few suggestions on the particular subject.

30 Vow

He will live, Cesare vows. He will live, he will regain his freedom, his power and his army. At any cost. And then they will. All. Pay.

31 Blending

It was simply not fair, thought Machiavelli, that no matter how solid your acting, no matter how meticulousyour disguise, Volpe would immediately spot you in a crowd and grin at you. Clearly spying on the sly old fox called for more cunning means, he conceded as he made his way to the Rosa to shamelessly bribe Claudia for information.

32 Misconduct

“Not that we are in any particular hurry to the Castello,” Orsini says, the knuckles of his war-gauntlet quite pleasantly buried in Cesare's face, “but things would just be easier all around if you would stop squirming and came quietly.”

33 Ultimatum

“If you don't stop hogging my mp3-player,” Rebecca whispers softly in Shaun's ear, “I'll tell Lucy exactly whatyou and Desmond used her yoghurts for last night.”

34 Takeover

“Stop!” Lucrezia commands as the soldiers feed the paintings to the fire – already the image of a swan is crackling and fading to black amongst the flames. Such a waste of beauty. She hasn't even realized Cesare is standing behind her, fierce and bloodied after the battle, until he speaks.

“You like them?”

She nods, and he touches her cheek with a smile, careful not to stain her hair.

“Then they are yours. A memento of the day the Assassini fell.”

35 Afterlife

“I blame you for this,” says Cesare flatly as the imps re-heat the lake of boiling tar. Again. “There is no God, you said. No heaven and no hell, you said. Stupid old bastard.”

Rodrigo mutters something about Hell being other people, but will have to concede that in this trifling matter, yes, he was mistaken.

36 Distaste

He would rather be hated than forgotten, Cesare sullenly thinks, rubbing his stiff hands for warmth. Bony, filthy, with the matted long hair of a hermit falling into his face, he has to settle for the guards' contempt. At least it's better than pity.

37 Slavery

He isn't really paid, Leonardo thinks, merely kept alive, yes. Not really compensated as such. And so the construction of the intricate war-machines is really on the consciences of his masters, not his. Sting of guilt quenched he returns to the blueprints with renewed fevered enthusiasm.

38 Probation

“What's the catch”, asks Cesare with deepest suspicion.

“No catch,” Volpe assures, looking innocent. “Just a reward for your recent good behaviour. Keep it up and there may a meal and a hot bath in it for you, too.”

Cesare does not for a moment believe they are just going out 'to stretch their legs', but a meal does sound inviting. He follows.

39 Adversity

Ezio strongly disapproved of the idea of his little sister taking over the Rosa in Fiore, and he frankly can't say whether he is more disappointed or proud when it flourishes under her care.

40 Bluntness

“You are a thief,” Machiavelli growls, piqued into a rare display of anger. “A liar and a cheat and an honourless thief!”

Volpe grins.

“All those things. And I'm still better than you.”

41 Scheming

Ezio gave the Apple to Mario, who had it stolen by Cesare, who gave it to Leonardo, who found it plucked out of his helpless hands by the Pope and his daughter. He ponders life was easier when he was just a painter. The Apple is a thing of awe, but the intrigues in its wake make his head hurt.

42 Favorite

It wasn't that Cesare particularly hated his older brother. It was just that while he no longer childishly sought his father's approval, the position as the Pope's favorite son came with several practical perks. Unfortunately for Juan, that meant he simply had to go.

43 Truce

When things are civilized, they can be bearable, almost even pleasant. The food is good, the wine plentiful, and Volpe's skilled fingers all but gentle. An unspoken truce, no matter how temporary. But neither man ever forgets the truth, which is war.

44 Scour

They answer to no-one, self-proclaimed executioners beyond all law. Too much blood on their hands now. Just before sunrise Cesare gives the command to attack. The cleansing of Monteriggioni has begun.

45 Extrovert

To hold his own council and play his cards close to his heart has always been his way, and he knowshe is a master at his game. And yet, Machiavelli can grudgingly admit to himself, it isn't until the boisterous chaos in human guise that is Ezio bursts in on the Roman scene that he begins to see how they will win this war.

46 Protagonist

“I will avenge the cowardly, treacherous plot against my father,” he thinks. “I will root out all those involved, every single one, and I will kill them and all they stand for.”

No-one ever sets out to be a hero, only to do what is right.

For Cesare, the path ahead is clear.

47 Willpower

It is never easy. Every time Altaïr visits his (his!) bureau in Jerusalem, Malik has to struggle with himself not to slay the man in his sleep. On many a moonlit night, only a lifetime of discipline stays the blade in his white-knuckled hand.

But strangely, it does get easier over time.

48 Esacalation

At first it had been mere proof of his ability to go anywhere in Roma as well he pleased, the taunting and impotent rage in response a given bonus. After some time, forced still-furious intimacy gained through blackmail had appeared a logical step. Then force turned out redundant. As Cesare clings to him, nails biting into his arms and teeth bared with need, Volpe admits to himself he would never have suspected the caged Borgia would so willingly use him to sate his desires – nor the other way around.

49 Torrent

Raw grief fades over time, a broken heart healed into a dull ache. The thing that keeps Claudia from sleeping at night is not all she has lost, but her screaming frustration at not being able to take her fate, and that of those responsible, into her own hands.

50 Danger

The peaceful life he had envisioned just the evening before will have to wait, Ezio grimly decides, pressing a hand to his wounded shoulder and focusing on not falling off his horse. And despite the shock, grief and pain, it somehow feels right. He has lived this life so long, he isn't sure he remembers how not to.

51 Splattering

Leonardo likes to buy birds at the market and set them free, watching with dreaming eyes as they take to the endless sky. Once, Ezio surprises his friend with twenty white doves. Much belatedly he wishes he'd remembered that stressed pigeons prefer to lighten their load before taking off.

52 Ramification

“It is time you take responsibility for your actions,” Rodrigo snarls, and Cesare struggles with the impulse to scream, childishly, “But father, younever did!”

53 Concession

“I'm not sure we should...”

Lover and Thief, silhouettes in the dark, alone. A light touch.

“Come now. It will be good, I promise.”

“But, what if...”

“Ssh. Are we not both Assassins? Everything is permitted.”

His honed thief's nerves tingling with foreboding warnings, La Volpe allows Claudia to persuade him in the end, knowing Ezio will probably kill him, and that it will no doubt be worth it.

54 Leer

You can't even seehis face in the shadows beneath the cowl. And yet, Volpe just standing there outside the bars, nonchalantly leaning one hand against the wall, makes Cesare want to scream. Or punch him hard. Preferably both.

55 Whisper

Ezio reflects that there are few other voices he would instantly recognize by just a short, urgent uttering of his name. His hesitation to turn around stems not from uncertainty, but the childish wish to postpone the trial of his oldest friend's rumored treason just a few moments longer.

56 Absurdity

At first Ezio had felt confused, then worried and finally terrified. But as they've fled Florence and the man introducing himself as uncle Mario tells him that his family belongs to an ancient clan of legendary assassins, relief washes over him. Finally is clear it has all been an insane dream. He can't wait to wake up.

57 Experimentation

Leonardo da Vinci is a true genius, his brilliant mind always seeing the world through a lens of wonder. Nothing escapes his never-sated curiosity – but that a small poseable wooden mannequin could be used like that? Cesare is a man not easily impressed, but will have to admit the artist rarely fails to amaze.

58 Farewell

It is with uncharacteristic kindness Volpe kisses him, between shared gasps for air after their final tryst. A last goodbye before the approaching dawn will see Cesare on his way to exile in Spain.

”Growing sentimental, old fox?” the younger man scoffs at him. ”No need. I shall return soon enough, and repaint the walls of Roma with Assassin blood.”

Volpe just smiles. He has already helped Ezio prepare his own journey and knows with certainty that Cesare will never again return to Rome.

59 Turf

”Maybe Giovanni could get away with doing paperwork all day over in Florence,” Mario says, and his tone clearly states what he thinks about his brother's choice. ”But arround here we train Assassins, not accountants or delivery boys.”

Ezio's body has never ached as much in his life as it does after his first day of training with his uncle.

60 Smoothness

When she smiles her deep red lips are like tantalizing rose petals, framed by sun-ray golden hair. She is smooth, flawless, perfect. But every rose has its thorns, and Lucrezia's are laden with poison.

61 Kneeling

Every fiber of Ezio's body strains desperately to regain control as he jerks like a puppet on golden strings of light.

”You are lucky,” breathes Rodrigo in a low, husky growls, leaning hard on the staff after the battle, ”So verylucky, little Assassin, that I am in a hurry.”

As the dagger sinks into his guts, Ezio briefly thinks that indeed, it could have been so much worse.

62 Purgatory

The imps don't know whether to feel amused or put out that the screaming, flailing argument between father and son has by now escalated to the point they don't even seem to register the lake of boiling tar anymore. A bit of respect for good solid workmanship, is that too much to ask?

63 Lick

It has to be said in favour of Machiavelli's assassin reflexes that the unexpected lick at his ear out of the dark earns Volpe neither a jump or a shriek but a rapid fist to the nose.

Only half an hour later, safely home in his bedroom, does Niccolo allow himself to contemplate what might have otherwise transpired.

64 Bonfire

It is a sad thing, reflects Ezio in hindsight, older, wiser, that compared to all the priceless art and knowledge fed to fire during Savonarola's mad reign of Florence, the mere loss of a human life that ended it is remembered with little sense of loss or revulsion.

65 Last

After Mario's death, Ezio has felt the weight of being the last Auditore Assassin ever heavier on his shoulders. But as he watches Claudia fearlessly take her leap of faith, he wonders how he could ever have been blind enough to think himself alone.

66 Well

The guards in hot pursuit yell and stab at wells, haystacks and dark alleyways. From his perch on a rooftop Ezio smiles. He always did prefer to take to the sky.

67 Wrongdoer

As his support falters and the opposition grows ever bolder, Cesare becomes increasingly frustrated with their attacks and accusations. He would prefer to answer only for his own sins, not those of his dead father.

68 Deliberate

It really is getting unnerving, decides Machiavelli, the way Volpe has taken up the habit of commenting on his every observation with a frosty ”Indeed” or ”Yes, quitethe coincidence”. He wishes he could believe the man isn't doing it on purpose.

69 Counter

When he first arrives in Jerusalem, Altaïr can't quite shake the feeling that the only thing between him and certain death is a rather narrow, map-strewn desk.

70 Bribe

Cesare has always been good at striking a profitable bargain. Unfortunately Borgia as a currency is bitterly deflated, and these days he often have to sell himself too cheap for comfort. Even though it isa warm, snug blanket.

71 Chess

Cesare knows he is a brilliant strategist – not so much because of the expected praise from his subordinates as from the satisfactory number of pins currently adorning his map of Italy. He would like to believe himself modest in this, careful not allow hubris to cheat him of a victory. And yet he never knows whether to frown or laugh helplessly as the absent-minded artist all but appologetically check-mates his king time and time and time again.

72 Feel

Leonardo never knows how to feel when Cesare enters the room. At first he is apprehensive, but as weeks turn into months and he realizes he's not only allowed but encouraged to dream up grander designs than ever before he is thrilled.

In the end, seeing the Assassins' plans put into motion long before Cesare even knows the final battle has begun, he can only avert his eyes in regret.

73 Mister

”Outside the kingdom of God is the realm of men,” Salai says, leaning just an inch too close. ”You worship there, Messere?”

Only years of training his clueless look on Leonardo helps Ezio keep a straight face as he blankly waves for the boy to follow him.

74 Fine

There are simply too many guards around for a discreet kill, so Ezio grudlingly counts the florins and hands them over. How was heto know he wasn't allowed to park his horse there? Time to liberate another stable from its Borgia-tower shadow, he decides. Burning them all down is easier than keeping track of territories anyway.

75 Dog

If La Volpe is the fox and Ezio the bird of prey, Pantasilea ponders, then Bartolomeo reminds her of a large, lumbering dog. Faithful and loyal unto death, but with a booming bark and a vicious bite for those who threaten those dear to him.

76 Forgotten

When Volpe appears he is the first person Cesare has seen in days. He greets the thief with his usual brazen curses, careful not to let any trace of relief shine through. Of all things he is most afraid to be left alone to die; not slain out of hatred or need, but simply ignored and forgotten.

77 Changed

Had Ezio been the kind of man to think upon such things, he might have noticed the Cesare facing him atop the towering walls is not the self-assured young general he met a handful years previous in Roma. Tired-looking and hunched over he looks defeated even before the battle has begun. But Ezio is here for one single purpose alone, and has never been the kind of man to think of such things anyway.

78 Gondola

Antonio assures Leonardo that only from an extensive tour with his private gondola will the artist truly get to know his new home town. As it happens, a rocky two-hour boat ride later, Leonardo still hasn't really seen much of the city. But that's quite alright, as he happily agrees to repeat the endeavour soon again.

79 Casino

It never hurts to try to win Fortuna's favour when gambling is one of your favorite pastimes, Salai knows, but in this particular case divine intervention is quite a bit closer at hand. As long as you have La Volpe's favor, the dice at the Sleeping Fox will never let you down.

80 Soup

The first bowl of watery gruel ends up thrown in the guard's face with enough force to break his nose. The next morning the second splinters against the wall. Nearly a week passes before he forces himself to eat the fifth, to preserve his strength.

Cesare closes his eyes as he quickly raises the bowl to his face to wolf down the hundredth, before the reflection in the dull surface can show him what he has become.

81 Carrot

”Tell you what,” murmurs Volpe in the starving prisoner's ear, dangling the vegetable in front of his face, ”If you give me a good enough show I'll even let you keep it for supper when you're done.”

82 Madame

Volpe has to admit himself impressed – Claudia is shrewd, ruthless and horrifyingly practical, and stillmanages to be praised a good businesswoman rather than cursed a thief.

83 Kilt

Yes, Ezio decides as he flexes his body inside the unfamiliar weight of Romulus' armour, there is definitely a draft around his nether regions. Whatever the old Romans may have thought, a skirt of leather belts does notconstitute proper clothing.

After some swearing and creative arranging of his spare cloak he considers it may well look even moreof a skirt, but at least this cut preserves his manly dignity when he jumps.

84 Theft

He has stolen valuables, information, people and lives. La Volpe draws in a deep breath as he surveys Roma in the first light of morning, then exhales in satisfaction. She is the greatest city in the world, and she is all his for the taking.

#asksilvy #blast from the past

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starlocked01 · 4 years ago

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The Only Thing That’s Real

AO3 @tsshipmonth2020

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Thank you to @ace-in-a-shopping-cart for the prompt that got this rolling :D

Summary: Logan and Virgil can feel each other's physical pain. Emotional pain is a little more difficult to decipher.

Content Warning: Self Harm referenced

Day 6 Analogical- Whenever your soulmate is injured, you feel the pain in that area of your body

How many times had Logan given his lecture on having a consistent brushing and flossing schedule? To be exact he had given it 47 times over the past 5 months and yet he could feel the cavity in Virgil’s mouth react to the sickeningly sweet energy drink his boyfriend was pounding down.

"Stop it! Doesn't that hurt?" He glared across the table over the top of his laptop.

"You'll live. It's only like.. two weeks until the appointment?" Virgil rolled his eyes, taking another gulp out of spite. In truth, his mouth hurt a lot and he knew Logan could feel it too. But he was so tired of the sanctimonious lectures. "Anyway, I better get going. See ya, L."

Logan grunted in response. Virgil had such a peculiar way of being a pain in his neck when he was surly like this.

Virgil grabbed his bag and headed out of the apartment, hoping the caffeine and sugar would kick in by the time he got to work. He was on the bus when he felt Logan's daily morning finger prick. Even if he should be used to the pain by now, he wasn't. Of course, his soulmate has diabetes.

Virgil stuck the pricked finger in his mouth and hissed as a strange man roughly pushed passed him on the bus. He quickly checked his pockets and was mildly relieved nothing was missing. He stumbled as the bus started forward again, grabbing for the bar to keep from falling. The bus filled quickly at the next two stops and Virgil felt on the edge of a panic attack by the time he got to work. He stood on the sidewalk and tried to control his breathing to ground himself. Another person pushed past him and he tensed every muscle in his body to stop himself from retaliating.

After the short walk from the stop to work, Virgil found himself tested even further by entitled customers and barking managers. He snapped a rubber band against his wrist every time he felt ready to shut down. He knew Logan would feel it but it was better than getting fired for snapping at a customer.

"Why don't you work at Hot Topic, freak?" a kid no older than ten laughed at him while his tired mother ignored him to mess up the display Virgil had just fixed .

"Because you don't find fresh meat when everyone who shops there is already undead," Virgil smirked at the twerp of a child, showing off a fake fang. It wasn't dress code but he liked it.

The child cried and his mother found a way to blame Virgil for that and about everything else wrong in her world. Virgil tried to ignore the tirade and felt his skin itch.

After a lunch break and another energy drink that did nothing to improve his mood, Virgil begged his favorite manager to be allowed to reorganize the back stock for the rest of his shift. Human interaction was killing him. He groaned when his friend sadly shook his head no and put him on the register.

The rest of the day was a blur as more and more people managed to annoy and aggravate Virgil. He trudged in the front door of the apartment and locked it behind him. Logan was still out at his own job and Virgil had the whole place to himself. The skin on his arms itched terribly as the stress of the day replayed on a loop. He grabbed ice from the freezer and tried to make the urge go away by rubbing the ice on his wrists and forearms. The cold was helpful but he still felt bad.

Virgil wrapped himself in a blanket and blasted his mp3 player, favorite emo playlist on shuffle.

Logan could tell it had been a bad day when he found Virgil all wrapped up in the living room. He'd felt the rubber band snaps all day and was grateful he hadn't felt worse when Virgil got home. Rather than disturb him, Logan went to the kitchen to start preparing their dinner, biting back the voice in his head arguing that Virgil should cook when he got home first.

Logan nearly had finished a plate of bacon and a full stack of pancakes when Virgil snuck up behind him and wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist, resting his forehead between his shoulder blades.

"Rough day?"

"I hate people."

"Mmm. Understandable."

"Why do they exist?"

"Evolution dictates that a species that has a higher population is better at adapting to survive in its surroundings as there is greater genetic variety."

Virgil hissed and straightened back up to grab a drink from the fridge. Logan looked disapproving when Virgil pulled out a can of soda but bit his tongue.

Virgil plated the pancakes and bacon while Logan grabbed butter and Crofters jam from the fridge. They worked together to set the table and sat down to eat.

Virgil side-eyed Logan as Logan spread jam over his pancakes.

"So it's only a problem when I have sugar?"

"It's about self-control, Virge. I don't like it when I know you're in pain over something simple to fix," Logan looked with sympathy that quickly evaporated into fear. "Virgil put it down... Please."

Virgil looked down to find he was absent-mindedly running the butter knife against the sleeve of his hoodie. His eyes went wide and he dropped the knife which skittered across the table.

Logan stood and rushed over to Virgil’s side as the frustrated man hid his face in the hood of his jacket and faceplanted into the table. Logan rubbed Virgil’s back softly, gently pushing up the sleeve to make sure no new wounds had been made and no old ones reopened. The lines on his soulmate’s wrist brought back painful memories of being awoken in the middle of the night, arm stinging for no discernable reason, and fear of the unknown clouding his brain.

"Come on Virgil, it's going to be okay. I'm here," Virgil only grunted in response. "Anime or Disney?"

Virgil barely lifted his head, "neither."

"We're having a movie night. You need to relax. So what are we watching, Stormcloud?" Logan was firm but kind.

"Fine. Starkid."

"Any particular show?" Logan crouched to be eye level with Virgil.

Virgil turned his head to look at Logan, tears running down his cheeks, "I dunno. You pick."

Logan nodded, cupping Virgil’s cheek in his hand and using his thumb to wipe away the tears. He stood, grabbing their plates to move them to the living room. He quickly grabbed a laptop and a few more blankets for the couch, keeping one eye on Virgil the whole time.

When everything was ready, Logan returned to Virgil’s side and offered him both hands. Virgil took them and Logan pulled him up into a hug. They stood there for several minutes before Logan pulled back just far enough to look at Virgil.

"I'm sorry. I've been more like people than your boyfriend lately, haven't I?" Virgil barely nodded in response. "I'm sorry, Virgil. I don't mean to be bossy. I only want you to have a good quality of life because I love you. Seeing you in pain because of others hurts me so much. But I shouldn't be one of the ones causing you pain."

"It's okay, L. You're human. And my soulmate. You literally cannot stop causing me pain," Virgil sighed and looked up, meeting Logan’s gaze. His eyes sparkled with dark brown intensity that made Logan catch his breath. Virgil smirked, "I don't like people, but you're the exception, Logan."

"I love you, Stormcloud."

"I love you too, L."

Logan smirked and picked Virgil up, carrying him bridal style. Virgil quickly wrapped his arms around Logan’s neck to keep from falling. Logan leaned forward and pecked his boyfriend on the lips, heat rising in both of their cheeks. He carried him into the living room and set him down in the nest of blankets before grabbing the laptop and snuggling in himself.

They watched Starship, and Virgil started humming along around halfway through. Logan gently played with Virgil’s hair and after the musical, they stayed curled up together on the couch until they fell asleep.

It would never be easy, but they had each other to protect and care for and that was enough.

#sanders sides #tsshipmonth2020 #Soulmate September 2020 #soulmate au #hurt #hurt comfort #analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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limjaeseven · 4 years ago

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Fade Away (8/8)

VERSE 2: PART 8 OF 8

Pairing: Jinyoung X Jaebeom ft Seulgi of Red Velvet

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 967

Summary: Jinyoung reads Jaebeom's last words to him after he's gone.

Warning(s): mentions of cancer

[a/n]: This is the end of Verse 2! I’ll add links to the rest of the parts later, I’m just hella tired rn. A huge thank you to @birbdae and my friend Terry for proofreading this dumpsterfire.

To Jinyoung,

If you’re reading this it means either you’ve become an expert at sneaking into my room and finding my things, which should be concerning cause there’s a lot of food there; or I’m dead. I can see you cringing from here, Jinyoungie but it’s time you accept it. I had fought the idea a lot when I was young, especially after I met you, that one day I won’t wake up to see your beautiful smile when I reached school. But as I grew older, I realised, there is no point in fighting it, it’s going to happen, it’s just about when.

Where I know already, I just finished booking the tickets for Hokkaido as I write this, yes there were only three of them and I was the one that made sure you didn’t notice that. I’ve had a lot of time to think in the past few years, especially between our two fights and I’ve realised that there was a part of my life that I hid from you that you deserve to know about, so this is my last confession. My thoughts, my experiences, my life, put in this journal that my mom gave to me for my birthday this year. I think she also knew I wouldn’t last long.

If you look through the bag, there should be an mp3 player and earphones in it. Put them on and scroll till you find a folder named ‘Verse 2’. I want you to read this while you listen to that.

While we’re on the subject I should address the music. You may have gone through my computer and seen all of them there but just in case you haven’t, I started writing music around the same time we were working on Icarus. The score for the film was the first piece I ever wrote, and after that I just poured all my emotions into it. Why did I never tell you about it? Honestly a mix of fear and insecurity. No one other than me has ever heard these songs, well apart from you, now. I didn’t know what I was doing and I was scared you wouldn’t like it.

The album you’re listening to, was one I wrote while thinking about you, about us and what we’ve been through over the last two decades. I’ve never been good at expressing my emotions but I hope this works.

So, there are a lot of things to talk about so I’m going to write them down as systematically as I can but I will likely ponder and go on tangents that make no sense so apologies from the very beginning.

Cancer. So yeah, I’m sure you know by now, at least I hope you’re not reading this before I’m dead otherwise I’m getting my ass murdered tonight. But yeah, I’ve basically known my entire life that I was never gonna last long. My parents didn’t expect me to make it to age 5, let alone 25. It was something that I just had to deal with and there was just so much pity and I hated every bit of it. That was, until I met you. In the beginning I didn’t want you to pity me so I never told you. As time went on I realised I couldn’t hurt you like that. I couldn’t break your heart as you talked about how we’d grow old together.

Those four months, during your first movie shoot, I was hospitalised and basically out for most of it. Seulgi blocked your number in that state of panic and even though I don’t blame her for it, I couldn’t be with her anymore, knowing that she hurt you. Don’t blame yourself for blaming me, it was my decision to not tell you and let you think I ignored you just like that.

There is one more thing I need to talk about here which is probably going to make you hate me, more than you do by this time. Remember when we fought in high school, I started drinking? Well turns out I lost close to five years of my life thanks to that. I remember thinking ‘Jinyoung is going to kill me if he ever finds out’, not that I didn’t have five more years to live. I was always ready to go, but I only wanted to stay for you, to see you smile, to see you happy, that was all I wanted.

I know you’re probably blaming yourself for everything you ever did but Jinyoungie, know that I never blamed you and I never will. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and the only regret I have is that I didn’t get to spend every moment of my short life with you.

There are so many things I want to talk about but there’s no way for me to put them into words. I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for being such a horrible hyung, I’m sorry for leaving.

I know you’re hurting right now, and I wish I could take all the pain away, but I can’t. So instead I’m going to tell you that I love you, I always have and I always will. You are my world, Jinyoung, I don’t think I’d have made it this far without you by my side. Take care of yourself for me, and know I’m going to be looking at every move you make from up in the sky, so make sure you don’t mess up.

I don’t know how to end this, I wanted to say a lot more but I just don’t know how to verbalise those thoughts and feelings I have. Tell my parents I love them, please. I’m going to miss you a lot.

Love,

Jaebeom

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yamithediaperdork · 4 years ago

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Busted, but it’s ok pt 1 (Powerpack story)

If there was anything better then getting the house to yourself on a Friday afternoon, Alex Powers didn't wanna know about it. with it being the summer Julie had taken Katie out for a girl's day, and Jack was hanging out with Franklin Richards over that Baxter building after his morning summer classes. Toss in Mom and Dad still at work and it meant that from 1pm till 5, Alex had the run of the house and was free to do whatever he wanted, after he did his chores. This worked out well for Alex as it went semi hand in hand with what he was planning on doing today anyways, mainly indulge in his love of being a widdle sissy baby. Humming a nursery theme as he stripped, Alex then tugged out a lock box from under his bed and noted with amusement that Jack had been trying to get into it again from the way the combo's were all messed up. "Heh, he'll never learn will he?" he giggled to himself. the lock box was a gift from Mister Parker, who had also included a DNA scan so that Jack could maybe get the numbers right, but if it wasn't Alex thumbing them in, it was useless. Clicking the box open, the young blond sissy rubbed his chin for a second, thinking over his choices. He didn't wanna use the locking panties he had today, there had been a super close call the last time and he'd had to pin himself to the roof for half a hour waiting for his dad to leave so he could go and get the key. The bonnet was also out, while it helped him look cute and he liked it, it was WAY too warm when he was doing chores and he ended up sweating like a pig. In the end he went with a light pink top with puffy shoulders that had a white lace trim on the bottom and on the sleeve, leaving his arms mostly bare for doing dishes and 3 of his princess diapers, noting that he was starting to get low and would have to get Mister Parker to order him some more. (Peter had found out about Alex's little fetish by mistake and had calmed the bawling boy down by offering to help him with it, as long as he was safe and private about it, hence the lock box.) Since he was planing on wetting himself Alex made sure to use a razor and slit slots in two of the diapers then after powdering himself up, he taped them on, making sure that the uncut diaper was on the outside. as a few finishing touches Alex took out a pink pacifier that was on a cord and put it around his neck, and then fished out a purple hair bow and clipped it in his hair before waddling over to the mirror to look at himself, mentally gushing over how bulky his diapies were. "mothers, lock up your sons~" He giggled as he posed in the mirror, striking a few poses and blowing a kiss to himself. He didn't really think about boys a lot despite what he had just said, but the outfit and the diapers had him being a little bit of a silly butt. Half prancing and half waddling, he set upon the first chore of the day, getting all the landry gathered up and starting a load, though he did pause long enough to grab his MP3 player and hooked it on his top, putting the headphones in and turning up the volume.

Jack and Franklin had been having fun, playing around the Baxter building for a hour before they MAYBE let a game of tag get a little bit carried away. Sure technically Mr.Richards lab was off limits but as jack tried to argue, boys will be boys, and he should get a better lock for the door if he wanted to keep them out. That was the argument that Jack had made for the pair, even as Franklin face palmed, apparently knowing it wasn't going to work. "And besides, it's not like that negative zone monster did THAT much damage, you and Mrs. Richards took it down with ease!" Jack finished up. "..I think you need to go home Jack." Was all the seething Reed had said, taking in the wreckage of his lab. "Well about that, my dad isn't suppose to pick me up till fiveish and sooo I'm gonna need a ride ho-" Jack started before Reed yelled at him to leave now. "I'm sorry about this, he gets really cranky about his lab getting wreaked despite it happening ALL the time." Franklin said, walking Jack out of the building. "If Uncle Ben or Johnny were home they'd drive you..as is Mom's gonna be working over time to keep my butt safe." "Eh, it's ok. I'll just remember this the next time he need the help for me." Jack said, all full of swagger. "...when exactly has he ever-" Franklin started to ask, but got cut off. "There's a first time for everything! anyways, good luck dealing with mister grumpy pants. I've got a ton of stupid homework to do anyways, gonna see if I can trick Alex into doing it for me again." Jack said and waved bye. Jack walked the first few blocks on foot, then when he was sure no was was looking he ducked into a alley and used his powers to lighten his mass and fly up into the air, deciding to take the quick way home. 'on the plus side, at least I know Alex will be doing all the chores, He always does when he's left alone, he's gonna make someone a good wife someday' Jack thought and laughed to himself, not knowing how close to the truth he might of been.

With the landry in the dryer, Alex had managed to tidy up his and jack's room, and then Julie and Katie's, taking the time to play with a few of her princess crowns before putting them back. He toyed with cleaning the living room and leaving the curtains open, always a little thrilling but decided to get the chore he least liked finally out of the way and headed for the kitchen inside to get the pile of dishes out of the way. It wasn't hard to tell this was Jack's chore normally as the pile had built up with Jack claiming they needed to 'soak' over and over. 'oh well, at least I'm coming up on the Abra block for my playlist.' Alex thought, starting the water and sorting the dishes out into piles.

Jack landed down in the back yard, no one noticing because of the tree line and resumed his normal mass. "heh, I think I'm getting faster!" he said to himself as he headed for the back door, opening it and walking in. he was about to announce that he was home when he heard a girly voice badly singing a old song and winced. No two ways about it, Alex was cleaning and had reached his Abra section of his play list. "Somebody needs to tell that boy he can NOT sing." Jack said, covering his ears. He almost let Alex just keep singing, it was clear he was in the kitchen and thus likely doing the dishes for Jack and he wasn't the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. Then Alex;s voice broke and he squeaked out the next line and Jack decided it would almost be worth having to finish his own chore if it meant not having to listen to THAT anymore. Coming around the corner and looking into the Kitchen, he was about to shout and get his brothers attention, when he noticed just WHAT Alex was wearing. the sissy top would of been enough to make Jack laugh, but the massive pink and purple diapers really sold it, and really not helping things was the way Alex was shaking his butt back and forth. "You can dance, You can jive, Having the time of your life!" Alex was singing, eyes closed and holding a wooden mixing spoon up like it was a microphone. it would be till he was almost finished the main chorus that he'd opened his eyes. "Ooh, see that girl, Watch that scene, Digging the dancing qu- JACK!" Alex squeaked out. Jack of course couldn't let something like this go by and while the sissy had been singing, eyes closed, and turning around, he'd taken his cell phone out and had started to record. "T-Tell me your not taking pictures!" Alex whimpered, turning crimson in the face and dropping the spoon, tugging uselessly on the hem of his top, in a vain effort to cover the diapers. "Good news. I'm not." jack said, and Alex started to relax. "I'm making a video. wave hi to YouTube." in the silence that followed as Alex let out a soundless shriek, a hissing could be heard as the little sissy wet himself.

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thehungryplaice · 3 years ago

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Go Back To The 80s With The Hungry Plaice....

https://www.the-hungryplaice.uk/go-back-to-the-80s-at-your-event

The 80s....What a Decade! I don't mind admitting we are big 80s lovers at The Hungry Plaice, it was the decade of our childhood filled with cheese and the start of the video game revolution and if we could go back in time that's where you would find us, I would love to go back to experience the feelings of being back there but with alot more appreciation for what we had as we didn't have a clue back then how fab that time was. There are loads of 80s revivals around, 80s pop stars relaunching their careers and touring again and TV shows picking up on the 80s themes. We love our 80s vans so much that we currently have two these are our Vintage Fish and Chip Vans Betty and Beryl, we try not to look around and see if there are any more for sale as we would be quite happy to fill up our driveway with more of these beauties!

The 80s was filled with fun, fun and loads more fun from the Neon leggings we all wore to the Arcades full of cool games that we used to play, things back then just seemed so much easier and we were still in the days when it was safe for us kids to be playing out all day without our parents knowing where we were rather than being stuck in your bedroom glued to a game, we enjoyed fresh air and freedom and as long as we were back for tea our parents didn't worry about us. We didn't have rules like we do nowadays, Health and Safety was in it's infancy and as kids we could do pretty much what we wanted, we had metal bars we would swing on in the playground at school with huge concrete stepping stones you'd jump across, I got a scar from banging my nose on one of those in my Primary School and I still think it was character building. At home we had a metal framed bunk bed I'm sure was from MFI, there was a metal netted bottom that the mattress sat on top of, I always used to get my hair tangled up in that and I'm sure I've probably got bald patches from where I had to be cut out to be freed. We had a pampas greenish coloured bathroom set in my childhood home which would be considered Vintage today and lots of brown 80s things around the house like pull down coiled lights in the ceilings. My parents were delighted when they had the chance to put an eye level oven in the kitchen and ditch the freestanding gas oven where you had the grill at the top and try to burn your hands when you were cooking your fish fingers, we did have a microwave at some point and that lead to a rebellion on proper cooking! I remember using libraries alot when I was younger, it was a treat going and picking out books you could take away home, there was a limit to the number that you could have and you had to be careful not to get a fine for taking it back late. Information had to be researched and you couldn't do that from the comfort of home, for school I had to go there to find books on certain subjects and I remember being fascinated when having to use those terminals to look at old newspapers. The music was so much better back then, there was a happiness to songs that just made you want to dance not full of rude words and sexual references like today, we had an array of one hit wonders and big massive stars like Madonna and Kylie, Duran Duran and Wham! The songs still get played today but they sound more superior as we no longer listen to them on cassette tapes.

Cassette Tapes.....they were the days, I forgot how you had to rewind them to the beginning to get to the start and you could use a pencil if the tape pulled out and how there are pauses between songs and of course whilst you can try to to rewind and forward wind you'll never find the start of a song, we are spoilt now that we can do that just by pressing a button. The most embarrassing bit was when I asked my husband if something was wrong with the tape as the pause was going on just a bit too long....he gently reminded me that it was the end of the tape and it needed to be turned over haha!! Of course we all had those high tech Pre MP3/IPod/CD Players to play our music with a set of headphones with the fuzzy ears, my brother had one of the early Sony Walkmans and never let me even see it, I bet that's worth something these days I bought a cheap one off Ebay recently I couldn't help myself! Toys were actual toys there were a few electronic ones around such as Speak & Spell or a talking doll where you had a pull a bit of string and it only said about three words, we really actually played with physical things I had Sindy and some Barbie Dolls in fact I had so much of it I'd carry it all in one of those old large blue plastic shopping bags funny there were sold by Tesco to put into your trolley when they introduced self scanning it seems the technology died a death all those years ago but it now all the range. My brothers had Action Men and loads of model cars, we had a huge floor mat that had map on it with roads and a town that you would drive your model cars around all day on. There were Garbage Pail Kids, Care Bears, Rubix Cubes Train Sets and Scaletrix and as we were a bit more money savvy in those days you'd only get something for your birthday and Christmas not just because your parents wanted you to be quiet!

TV Back in the 80s

When we wanted to watch something on TV we only had a few channels I remember the time before Channel 5 and we had one huge Brown TV in the Lounge where you had to press the buttons on the front to change the channel, I reckon you would have needed a forklift to move the damn thing it was so huge and took up half the room. Days were filled with whatever my parents wanted to watch, there was Rainbow and Playschool when I was little, I remember watching the very first episode of Eastenders (a bad TV habit I dropped a few years ago), programmes were quite limited back then but it wasn't a huge deal because we entertained ourselves as kids, sometimes watching a Film would be a big treat and made special times like Christmas were more exciting sitting down together as a family and watching a film just released on TV that we had never seen before. We didn't mind adverts if we were watching ITV or Channel4 they didn't drag on like you get these days.

I don't remember exactly when Video Recorders came on the market but I know there were Betamax and VHS, we had VHS machine, you could record programmes off the TV and playback at your leisure and you always knew someone who was copying VHS to VHS that would sell you some films. I still used VHS tapes when my daughter was little so they were around all the time I was growing up. Buying a VHS tape was a real treat, you might have been lucky enough to have seen a film in the cinema but there was always a really big delay until they were released on Video or so it seemed. Of course for a really special treat you would go Blockbusters to rent a video but they were quite strict if you forgot your video card I guess computer systems weren't able to let you confirm any of your account details you had!

80s Fashion

Then there was the fashion in the 80s.....wow it was great and brilliant all neon neon neon and bright colours, I had one of those multi coloured white and purple shellsuits and Hi-Tec Trainers. There were punk hairstyles and coloured dyed hair and clothes that didn't match, famous stars created looks from throwing clothes together like Madonna and Boy George. Colours like pink, yellow and blue where everywhere, we had shoulder pads and polka dots, tracksuits and fitness gear, an explosion of trainers and dungarees. There are brands that have come back into fashion nowadays like Kappa and Champion, I wish to god I had kept them all to have them now! We would shop in the local high street and independent fashion shops, I lived in London and would go markets at the weekend, Wembley market was a huge favourite. We had BHS and C&A and a shop called Madhouse in the High Street at the top of the road, I don't really remember when the supermarkets starting selling clothes and the rise of the bigger fashion names back then we were quite limited to only a few shops. I have to mention Woolworths of course, we had one in our high street and I would enjoy just walking around looking at the everything they had including the glorious pick and mix!

Rumbelows.... I remember when you wanted something electrical you could shop at Currys and Comet and even Rumbelows, you always had to go out to buy something and bigger electrical items were never in stock and always had to be ordered and delivered weeks later, we really don't know how lucky we are to have the internet and the ability to order online it saves so much time and give us the freedom of choice to buy from so many different places. Of course the reason we couldn't buy online was because we didn't have the internet in our homes, no mobile phones, I got my first when I was 18 and had to ask permission to call anyone from the house phone, if you wanted to meet your friends you had to arrange it all before you went out and you couldn't check if they were on their way to see you unless you have 10p and phone box nearby. You were lucky if you had a Games Console let alone a Computer....

Gaming in the 80s, well what can I say it put gaming on the map and if it wasn't for those early days I doubt the gaming industry would be what it is today. We had a Spectrum Sinclair 48k first, I'm not even sure what a 48k would be today in terms of processing or storage even a single Word document can be bigger than that. It was bought as a shared present in the family one Christmas and I rarely got to play on it. All I remember is that we had a small black and white TV that we would connect to the computer and you'd have a cassette player connected to, for the Sinclair 128k we had later on I know there was a cassette player connected to the right hand side of the keyboard. Anyway you'd press play and then hear this whizzing buzzing noise whilst the game was loading and the TV would go all fuzzy, sometimes it would take ages and if you had a copy your mate recorded it might not load properly, talk about building your anticipation and then letting you down! The games we had included Daley Thompson, Hungry Horace and Jet Set Willy, I've seen the Spectrum emulator and its a great reminder of the games we had in the days gone by, they now download in seconds....just think what we could have done with all that time we sat staring at a screeching cassette tape player waiting for games to load. We would use the keyboard to play or a joystick if that sort of thing was sold with the Computer you had and your parents could afford one, it was quite easy....left, right, up, down and fire. Us kids would normally have one type of computer, ours was the Spectrum and I know someone on our road had the Commodore and I think there was a Binatone in someone's house, you were royalty if you were lucky enough to have more than one Computer. Handhelds were around then like the Game and Watch ones I don't remember all the different ones they made there were so many sold, we had an early Donkey Kong split screen it was orange on the casing of course I hardly got to play that either, the newer generation of Gaming Consoles like the Sega Megadrive was a big surprise to us kids that you could just put your game in and not long after be playing your game how did that happen! We also had the launch of the Nintendo Gameboy at the end of the decade which changed our gaming lives forever! Another side of gaming that you don't really see today was the Arcades, they were places you hung out with your mates for hours and hours playing Street Fighter and Pac Man, we had a shop on the high street which only had one or two I think it might have been a cafe, when you scored a high score you'd put your three initials in, arcades are mostly for the seaside holidays today full of the boring 2p push machines and fruities, as we know the game industry moved from those high street arcades to bedrooms.... So next time you complain about having to wait whilst you're downloading that highly sophisticated game with the controller I would need a degree to understand how to use think about us kids and our gaming....!

The 80s....wow what a decade

what a time, full of colour, lights and fun, I do wish I could get in a time machine and go back there and have some fun but I know we will never go back to those easy days we will keep moving forwards so instead I'll enjoy our road trips in the vans with the crackling radios....

https://www.the-hungryplaice.uk/go-back-to-the-80s-at-your-event

#thehungryplaice #vintagefishandchipvan #fishandchipvanhire #weddingcatering #weddingfood #corporateeventcatering #eventcatering #1980sparty #1980s

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aforrestofstuff · 5 years ago

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Okay! I have a burning question for you, my dude. Music is my life, and I wanna know what kind of music the OPM casts listen to. Thanks, my guy!

I had a feeling this would be inevitable lol. I don’t really know a whole lot about music or genres or anything like that so I’m just gonna give you a rundown of each character individually and some song recs along with that just to smooth things out a little. Thanks for your ask, by the way! ❤️ Now my playlists will be put to good use.

A Brief Rundown of the Major OPM Characters’ Music Tastes:

Blast: hc that he doesn’t even have ears since he never fucking LISTENS

Terrible Tornado: Stuff that makes her feel powerful. Loud vocals and good instrumentals. Also, she’s a little angsty since she’s saltier than the gotdamn Pacific almost all of the time. (Recs: Florence and the Machine - How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, Susanne Sundfør - Delirious, Florence and the Machine - What Kind of Man, Kali Uchis - Dead to Me, Let’s Eat Grandma - Falling Into Me)

Fubuki: some of that real classy shit. Slow songs that are nice to just have a cup of tea with. Nothing too meaty or fast-paced, she enjoys taking a moment to breathe every once and a while since life gets pretty hectic when you’re managing a gang of some 30 hooligans. (Recs: Wes - Midnight Low, any song from Lana Del Rey’s entire discography lol, Florence and the Machine - Grace, The Marìas - I Don’t Know You, Yellow House - Ain’t Gonna Call, Feng Suave - Toking, Dozing)

Silverfang: Stuff from his time. I hc that he was a bit of a party animal back in his prime so he’s gotta have those grooves. Disco to the extremo. Also, another hc: Garou absolutely hates his music. He would play it during training and Garou would contemplate homicide. (Recs: Frankie Valli - Grease, The Edgar Winter Group - Free Ride, KC and the Sunshine Band - I’m Your Boogie Man, Matthew Wilder - Break My Stride, The Main Ingredient - Everybody Plays the Fool, Andrea True Connection - More, More, More)

Bomb: save as Silverfang, although I hc that Bomb was a little more of a nerd growing up. Still, he never missed out on a good party. (Additional Recs: KC and the Sunshine Band - Get Down Tonight, The Trammps - Disco Inferno, Tierra - Together, Cornelius Bros and Sister Rose - Too Late to Turn Back Now)

Atomic Samurai: Old shit. Shit older than Silverfang. He’s really not that old, but his soul is fucking ancient and he’s got that classic “grrr music these days sucks” kind of shithead attitude. (Recs: Jim Croce - Time in a Bottle, Dion - Runaround Sue, The Carpenters - The End of the World, The Band - The Weight)

Child Emperor: Upbeat synth. Stuff to listen to while he’s working on his machines and whatnot. Probably has meaty beats to keep him in tune with what he’s doing, like working around a clock. Probably some groovy citypop in there too. (Recs: Taeko Ohnuki - 4:00 AM, Junko Ohashi - Telephone Number, Tatsuro Yamashita - Magic Ways, Hiroyuki Sawano - NEXUS, Superfly - Kakusei, Mariya Takeuchi - Plastic Love)

Metal Knight: Intrumentals that Disney villains listen to. Deep, dark shit that makes you feel sad. He probably feeds off of negative emotion. What a toolbag. (Recs: Lucas King - Sociopath, Abel Korzeniowski- Table for Two, Max Richter - Never Goodbye, Max Richter - She Remembers, Evelyn Stein - Quiet Resource, Mac Quayle - Adagio in G Minor)

King: video game soundtracks, obviously. Might be some electro funk in there too, as a treat. (Recs: Metal Gear Solid 3 OST - Snake Eater, Mick Gordon - Rip and Tear, Xenoblade Chronicles OST - Main Theme, Persona 5 OST - Last Surprise, Daft Punk - Verdis Quo, Toby Fox - Hopes and Dreams, Disasterpeace - Prologue, iamthekidyouknowwhatimean - Run, Darren Korb - Old Friends)

Zombieman: Dad Music. Old rock that makes you wanna rail some lines of white thunder and dance on top of a car. He’d be reluctant to try out new stuff but does so nevertheless. Just a little bit of weird alternative here and there. (Recs: Poison - Unskinny Bop, Mötley Crüe - Dr. Feelgood, Black Sabbath - War Pigs, Def Leppard - Animal, CRX - Walls, MGMT - Little Dark Age, Pink Floyd - Money, Queens of the Stone Age - Villains of Circumstance)

Drive Knight: Dark synth, obviously. Need I say more? (Recs: El Tigr3 - She Swallowed Burning Coals, Trevor Something - Enjoy the Silence, Greg Drombrowski - Devour, GUNSHIP - Woken Furies, GUNSHIP - Thrasher, Carpenter Brut - Invasion A.D., Kavinsky - Nightcall)

Pig God: this guy probably just listens to ASMR of people eating food lol.

Superalloy Darkshine: Upbeat stuff that’s good for exercise; loving those new jams along with some of the old. He’s got a pretty groovy style. (Diane Ross - Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, Saint Motel - Puzzle Pieces, CRUISR - All Over, Barry White - Never, Never Gonna Give Ya Up, Sade - Kiss of Life)

Watchdog Man: 10 hour loop of wolves howling on a summer night.

Flashy Flash: classical. Some nice instrumentals to listen to while training. Stuff that preferably doesn’t have any or very little lyrics so it’s not too busy on his ears while he’s fantasizing about killing someone. (Recs: Vaughn Williams - The Lark Ascending, Debussy - Rêverie, Grieg - Peace of the Woods, André Laplante - Une Barque sur L’Ocean)

Metal Bat: Modern alternative. A little bit harder than say, Mumen and Kama, but not as hard as Zombieman or Death Gatling. He’s that middle ground where he’s still got some real bangers, but Zenko can listen as well. He’ll play this stuff loudly as he’s doing chores and working out, no headphones ever. It gets pretty annoying. (Recs: Foals - Exits, The Blue Stones - Black Holes, Solid Ground, CRX - Broken Bones, Jungle - Happy Man, The Strokes - Reptilia, We Are Trees - Girlfriend)

Genos: synth. But not just any synth, some heavy, fast-paced synth that’s just like him: speedy, relentless, and powerful. He listens to shit that’ll make you wanna get up and start killing Terminators. Probably. There’s some other synths in the mix too because we love a three-dimensional king. (Recs: Carpenter Brut - Division Ruine, The Protomen - I Still Believe, Carpenter Brut - Leather Teeth, Gunship - Tech Noir, TWRP - Phantom Racer, Le Castle Vania - Red Circle)

Tanktop Master: Dad music but the type of dad music that makes you think your dad was a sappy nerd back in the day. Long tracks that are good for workouts. (Tears for Fears - Woman in Chains, Pink Floyd - Us and Them, Duran Duran - Ordinary World, Billy Idol - Eyes without a Face, A Flock of Seagulls - I Ran, The Alan Parsons Project - Eye in the Sky, Tears for Fears - Sowing the Seeds of Love)

Puri-Puri Prisoner: Pop. Dance music. He doesn’t really get to listen to a lot of music in prison, so he holds on to whatever he can and savors every second of it. (Coldplay - Talk, Bruno Mars - Runaway Baby, Lady Gaga - Bad Romance, Flo Milli - Beef Flomix, Doja Cat - Say So)

Mumen Rider: Hes a lighthearted, soft boy. Likes some fluffy indie tunes. It helps to motivate him when working out or doing hero stuff. He might need to cry every once in a while though, so there’s some sad songs in the mix too. (Recs: Varsity - The Dogs Only Listen to Him, The The - This is the Day, Amarante - Don’t Look Back, Alvvays - Saved by a Waif, The Monkees - As We Go Along, Acid Ghost - Hide my Face, Mogwai - Take Me Somewhere Nice)

Sonic: same as Flash. He’s a little more hip with the times however, so he’s got some more groovy, electronic instrumentals to listen to in addition to some elegant stuff and isn’t opposed to having a little bit of lyrics sprinkled in there as well. In fact, he’s not opposed to uppity pop either. He thinks dancing is frivolous but he secretly does it when he thinks nobody is looking. (Additional Recs: Odesza - Bloom, Pretty Lights - One Day They’ll Know [Odesza Remix], BØRNS - Electric Love, Hembree - Culture, The Cinematic Orchestra - Arrival of the Birds)

Garou: same as Metal Bat. Bang let him have a little MP3 player during his time at the dojo and has since collected a few songs on there. They’re very near and dear to his heart since it’s one of the few good things that came from his absolute disaster of a childhood. (Additional Recs: Foals - Inhaler, CRX - Slow Down, Deep Sea Arcade - Close to Me, Gorillaz - Empire Ants, The Fratellis - Chelsea Dagger, Glass Animals - Take A Slice)

Death Gatling: Shit your old Vietnam-vet grandpa would blast on the back of his F150. He gives me self-righteous asshole vibes, if I’m honest. Like, don’t get me wrong, I like Death Gatling, but he seems like the type of trailer park-dwelling sewer rat to carry a revolver into a Walmart for “self defense” and that’s probably the type of music he listens to, too. (Recs: Megadeth - Trust, Megadeth - Angry Again, Creedence Clearwater Revival - Fortunate Son, Glen Campbell - Southern Nights, Mötley Crüe - Kickstart My Heart, Quiet Riot - Cum on Feel the Noize)

One-Shotter: I hard hc that he had an emo phase he never quite grew out of. He doesn’t quite listen to emo anymore but he’s still into that alternative shit. Homeboy also likes some slow tunes every once and a while because he’s an emotional dude who’s not afraid of a good cry. (Recs: Anything from Blink-182, Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know?, MGMT - When You Die, Mazzy Star - Fade Into You, Cigarettes After Sex - Dreaming of You, Yon Ort - Other Matter)

Lightning Max: Same as Genos but without the terminator-killing. Fast-paced stuff because he’s a fast lightning dude. A little more upbeat because he’s not as much as an edgelord as Genos, however. (Additional Recs: Carpenter Brut - Hang’em All, The Flaming Lips - Do You Realize, Worn Tin - Sensitivity, B.E.R. - The Night Begins to Shine, Martin Hall - Different Kind of Love)

Stinger: he’s all about that FUNK! Stuff that gets him moving! Stuff that makes him wanna dance! (Recs: Daft Punk - Doin’ it Right, TWRP - Body Image, Wild Cherry - Play that Funky Music, Chemise - She Can’t Love You, Saga - Wind Him Up, Saga - On the Loose, TWRP - All Night Forever)

Okamaitachi: they give me electro vibes! New, modern shit that’s good to dance to or to just sit down and have a listen! Also, some shit that’ll probably play in a coming-of-age teen movie or something. They don’t really vibe with heavy music and that’s alright, babey! Keeping it light and bouncy. (Recs: Tei Shi - Bassically, Varsity - Must Be Nice, Class Actress - Weekend, CHVRCHES - Richard Pryor, Alvvays - Marry Me, Archie, Sobs - Telltale Signs, Goth Babe - Sometimes, ALASKALASKA - Meateater)

Iaian: Nice, low tunes that are good for meditation and to be used for background noise during training sessions. He never really sits down to listen to music, it’s always in the background of something else he’s doing so he prefers to have some soft beats that don’t really interfere with his senses. Tunes so quiet, he sometimes uses them as lullabies; especially since the trauma of losing his arm has since made it hard to sleep. (Recs: Boy Scouts - Saddest Boy, Susanne Sundfør - Mantra, Vashiti Bunyan - If I Were the Same but Different, Starman Jr. - Blue Fairy, Patrick Watson - Je te Laisserai des Mots, Sibylle Baier - I Lost Something in the Hills)

Bushidrill: same as Atomic Samurai just without the shitty attitude. He’s happy to listen to some newer stuff, he just doesn’t like it and that’s okay, baby! Probably some classy shit your wise old grandpa would listen to. (Recs: Dean Martin - Volare, Dion - The Wanderer, Peppino Gagliardi - Che Vuole Questra Musica Stasera, anything from Luis Miguel lol, Franco Micalizzi - Sadness Theme)

Amai Mask: probably just listens to his own music like a putz. If not, he’s listening to the sound equivalent of glittering diamonds. He’s probably got this shit playing at the end of a long day while he’s chilling in a hot bath or something. (Recs: Fergie - Glamorous, Rita Ora - Hot Right Now, Lana Del Rey - Freak, Lana Del Rey - Art Deco, Tame Impala - Feels Like We Only Go Backwards)

Saitama: He doesn’t listen to music much anymore, sadly. He did, however, have a killer motivational mix to get him through his vigorous training prior to becoming a hero. (Recs: Paul Engemann - Push it to the Limit, Journey - Don’t Stop Believin’, College & Electric Youth - A Real Hero, Joe Esposito - You’re the Best Around, Survivor - Eye of the Tiger, The Bee Gees - Nights on Broadway)

Here’s the playlist with all of these songs in order (mostly):

It’s on YouTube because I’m allergic to Spotify. I’ve got a doctor’s note. Also, all of my other playlists are on my little profile thingy so if you want to listen to my pile then go right ahead.

Thanks for your ask, my dude! ❤️ this took up ALL of my energy lol but it was fun.

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