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pastelwitchling · 4 years ago

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Brother in Arms Chapters: 1/2

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It was past midnight at the Pony when Alex got the call.

Michael was at the counter, coming in and out of Isobel and Maria’s conversation as he scanned the bar, looking for one particular man who said he’d try to come in late. Because they did that now. Offhandedly mention whether or not they were likely to see each other. It was a nice change of pace.

Michael straightened in his seat when he saw Alex finally come in, his hair windswept, his shoulders scrunched against the cold outside. He caught his eyes, and Alex smiled softly, weaving through the crowd towards him.

“Hi,” Michael said.

“Hey,” Alex murmured, his cheeks and nose red from the cold. They held each other’s gaze for several long seconds before Alex looked down, tugging off his scarf. Progress.

Michael cleared his throat and adjusted himself slightly on his chair, subtly scooting closer to Alex, to get a whiff of his vanilla scent, to feel the roughness of his jeans against his own. Alex seemed to notice and he turned slightly so that his left knee just barely grazed Michael’s.

Michael began to smile until he noticed the slight tension in Alex’s shoulders, the pinch of his brows, the pensive purse of his lips.

He looked back over his shoulder at Isobel and Maria, and when he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard, said, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “Just feel a little off, don’t know why.”

“Maybe you’re just tired from work?”

Alex hummed, unconvinced. “Maybe.”

For the next half-hour, Michael tried getting Alex to smile in earnest. He kept close to him, listening to his day and telling him all about his own. He pretended to swoon (absolutely not actually swooning on the inside) when Alex mentioned his team following his orders, and made a sexual innuendo about Alex’s commands and authority. At one point, he even got a laugh from Alex that made his heart flutter in an embarrassing way that he swore never to mention aloud to anyone.

Michael was sure he looked like a lovesick idiot, smiling at Alex like he did when they were seventeen and he had managed to make the emo kid giggle, but he didn’t care. Moments like these, when they got to just be happy to have each other, weren’t as common as Michael wanted them to be. Some words were still too hard to say, and some confessions still stuck in Michael’s throat, keeping him frozen when he longed more than anything to cling to Alex and never let him go.

But if he’d known the kind of call Alex would get in the next few minutes, he would’ve held on and kept him on that stool, kept him from picking up. He would’ve taken him to the airstream, and they would’ve gotten lost in each other’s touch, a night they probably wouldn’t have talked about the next morning, if only to give him one more night of peace.

But how could he have predicted, when Alex’s phone had rung, the way Alex’s smile would dim at the sight of the caller on the screen? The way panic would cross his expression, however trained he was to hide it? The way his jaw would clench and he’d mutter an excuse under his breath to take his call outside? How could Michael have predicted coming out onto the Wild Pony’s back porch to see Alex sitting on the front step, numbly writing out a date and address in Nashville?

“Okay, Katie,” he said into his phone. “Yeah. . . . Eleven. . . . Mm.”

Michael heard crying on the other end of the line. Alex listened silently, staring at the address he’d written, mindlessly underlining it over and over, the pen tearing into the paper. Alex didn’t seem to notice.

Michael heard muffled voices, Alex responded with, “I’m going right now. I’ll see you in the morning,” and he hung up.

Michael swallowed. “Alex?”

Alex didn’t looked around at him. “Air Force buddy,” he said, and sniffled. “That was his sister.”

Michael’s shoulders fell. There was only one reason Alex’s military buddy’s family would be calling. He came to sit down beside him.

“Private –”

“I need to pack,” he said, standing. His eyes were dry, his tone calculating. “Get some things ready.” He was already typing something on his phone, and Michael followed to find a list of flights to Nashville.

“O-Okay,” Michael tried. “I can drive you –”

“If anybody asks, can you just tell them I’ll be out of town for a few days?” he said, eyes on his phone, his other hand stuffing the piece of paper into his pocket.

“Uh – yeah, but, Alex –”

“Thanks, Guerin,” he said, climbing into his car. Michael’s mouth hung open on a silent sentence as Alex drove away.

It was a freezing late morning in Nashville, as if even the weather was lamenting the loss of a great man. Alex sat a few chairs down from Katie and her mother, both pairs of blue eyes filled with tears. The sun caught off Katie’s blonde hair, turning it gold, just as Scott’s used to be.

Scott had joined the military a week before Alex had. He had been a ball of light and energy the day he’d arrived, catching Alex’s eyes with a smile and sticking by his side ever since. Alex, who had wanted to keep his head down and get the work done, to rise in ranks with the sole purpose of defeating those who thought they could beat him down, was taken hostage by this man’s piercing blue eyes and his kind voice.

“You and me, Manes,” he’d said that first night, taking the bed beside Alex’s, “we’re brothers.”

“I don’t need another brother,” Alex had murmured, glad for the dark that hid his blush.

Scott had smiled. “Then I’ll be more.”

And he had been. It felt strange to go through the months of basics, feeling like part of him was missing unless Scott was there. This blond, disastrous, one-man hurricane had been the same way; always a little more out of control, always a little easier to slip up, always scolded more by the sergeant unless Alex was there to reel him in. He’d been, in every way, Alex’s opposite. As they had lain on their stomachs one night, Alex had told him as much.

“Which makes it all the more incredible how much we connect,” Scott had said. He’d had a fondness in his eyes then that Alex had pretended not to notice. “That’s us, Manes, just like I’d said we’d be. More.”

When Alex had left, they’d kept in touch as much as they were able. A call here, a letter there. Neither of them ever feeling like they were separated at all. No “I miss you”s, just ventures relayed and heartaches confessed.

“Next time I see you, I’ll have a word with that cowboy of yours,” Scott had told him on their last discreet phone call. Alex had laughed and asked him when that visit would come.

“Soon,” Scott had promised. “I’ll come running home to you, brother.”

As Alex watched them lower the black coffin into the ground, those words echoed on repeat in his head. Scott’s team stood, saluting as the bugle played and Alex heard faint sniffles and cries behind him, all turned to background noise.

It felt wrong. Knowing a force of nature like Scott Mason rested in a wooden box, the American flag folded and handed to his mother who clung to it now as if it was her son himself. Alex didn’t take his eyes off the coffin until it was thoroughly buried. People around him began to disperse, but Alex sat there, his fingers quickly growing numb with the cold.

He buried his chin deeper into his scarf, Scott’s laugh in his ears. He would be returning to Roswell in a few hours.

Would that be okay, Scott? he thought, hoping his friend could read his thoughts as he always managed to do, and answer him. If I left?

He had yet to shed a tear, and felt a strange tingling in his chest, like something was building up to be released but couldn’t quite make it through the surface. He wondered if he should stop by his buddy’s favorite burger place around the street before he left, get a double cheeseburger with fries, and dip them in a milkshake.

“Try it,” he’d encouraged him on their first leave. “You’ll thank me.”

Alex blew a tiny breath, a white cloud forming before his face. He muttered, “Thanks, brother.”

“Alex,” someone gasped, “what’d you do?”

Alex looked up, blinking out of his thoughts. He realized almost everyone around them had gone, and Katie stood next to him now, her blue eyes looking down with worry. He followed her gaze and saw that he’d carved into the back of his hand with his thumb, a faint line of blood trickling down the torn skin.

“Oh,” he said. He wiped his hand against his jacket as he stood. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

Katie searched his face. Her lower lip trembled as she opened her mouth. “I –” she cleared her throat. “I can’t imagine what he meant to you.”

Alex nodded. It’s not real, he thought. Scott’s fine. He’s not the kind of man who dies. I’m just having a nightmare. I’ll wake up, and my brother will be fine.

Still, even as he thought so, he said, “Your brother loved you, Katie.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she sniffled as she roughly wiped her face. “He loved you, too.”

�� Alex held out his arms, and Katie fell in against him, hugging his waist tightly enough to bruise. Alex only wished he could feel any of it.

There was to be a reception. Alex had insisted he would help take care of things while Scott’s mother, Ashley, tried to relax. She’d been frighteningly quiet since Alex had arrived two days ago, but Katie assured him that she spent the nights crying.

“She’s letting it out,” she assured him. “Wears herself out half the time. I just don’t think she’s really processed it yet, but she’s getting there.”

Hours later, after guests had gone, Alex found himself sitting amongst Scott’s immediate family. His mother and sister, his uncles and aunts and a few of his first cousins who were able to fly back into town on short notice.

An untouched cup of wine sat in front of Alex on the table as his family laughed through their tears, recounting stories about Scott, memories of him as a kid, funny letters he’d send back so that none of them would ever worry about him.

“He was a good man,” his uncle said gruffly, keeping his head down to hide his glistening eyes.

Alex nodded, his heart still tingling strangely, not quite letting him breathe. “He was a hero,” he said, and was met with nods and “Hear Hear!”s and more tears. Alex wished he could cry. Why couldn’t he cry?

“I remember when he brought you home, Alex,” Ashley said hoarsely, her smile faint. “I was so sure we were going to get some big news.”

Katie scoffed half-heartedly, leaning her chin on her palm. “Mom made Scott’s favorite ribs and chocolate cupcakes. She was so proud he finally found someone. Then Scott told us you were just his friend, and she kept huffing through dinner.”

The corner of Alex’s lips quirked up. “Sorry.”

Ashley grasped Alex’s arm and gave it a tight squeeze. “Far as I’m concerned, sweetheart, you were the only one Scott ever really loved. I felt it in my bones.” Her smiled faded, and her chuckles turned to sobs. Her forehead came to rest on Alex’s shoulder, and he put a hand on her head, keeping her steady against him.

The rest of the group dissolved into sniffles for the next hour. When Ashley had worn herself out and fallen asleep on the couch, Alex stood and grabbed his jacket.

“You have a flight back to Roswell already?” Katie asked, stretching.

He nodded. “I need to get back.”

She managed a smirk. “To your cowboy?”

He scoffed. “Anything else Scott told you?”

“Just that you never wanted to go back to Roswell during your leaves,” she said. “Said you didn’t think anyone would care. You still think that?”

Alex considered it, and it gave him a headache. He exhaled a soft chuckle. “I can’t think of much right now.”

Her eyes were kind. “I understand.” She heaved a groan that cracked at the end. “Is it bad that I kind of want to fast forward to next year? When all of this is just a bad memory?”

“No,” Alex said, pulling her in for another hug. He sighed against the top of her head. “It’s not bad at all.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Alex,” she whispered into his shoulder. “You’re family, too.”

A lump lodged itself in Alex’s throat. Try as he might, he couldn’t swallow it down. He said nothing as he held Katie tighter.

Michael, Gregory, and Flint met Alex at his house the day he came back to Roswell. Michael sat on the back of his truck as Gregory and Flint leaned against Gregory’s car. Flint’s arms were crossed, Gregory was checking his phone for calls, and Michael was pretending not to be nervous about Alex as he’d been days ago. He tapped his finger on the trunk bench, remembering that morning days ago when he’d come to Alex’s doorstep at the crack of dawn to offer a trip to the airport, and found the airman had already gone.

He had no idea what to expect now. Isobel, Liz, and Maria had wanted to come see him, too, but Gregory had told them that it was better they not crowd him. Michael had gotten to come along for sheer insistence that he wouldn’t leave until he got to see Alex was safe and back in Roswell.

“You heard from him since he got off the plane?” Flint asked at some point.

“No,” was all Gregory said, and the brothers fell silent again. There seemed to be a weight that Michael couldn’t grasp, couldn’t touch and felt pushed down by anyway.

A familiar car rounding the corner into the driveway yanked Michael from his thoughts. He came down from the bench, putting it up as he kept his eyes on Alex behind the steering wheel. He couldn’t discern his expression, even as he parked, opened his door, and pulled out his suitcase.

“Hey,” Michael said, trying to keep his voice light. He was the only one to speak.

Alex managed a press of his lips, his eyes spacing out almost at once. Michael held out his hand for his suitcase, and Alex seemed to realize too late that it had been taken from him. He touched Michael’s arm in thanks.

Gregory and Flint seemed to know what to do better than Michael did, which apparently wasn’t much. Gregory patted Alex’s back with a sigh while Flint stayed behind them. Michael didn’t understand why until they’d gotten to the porch, Alex fishing for his keys, and his eyes suddenly fluttered. He swayed and Flint readily caught his arm, steadying him as if he’d been expecting it.

Michael opened his mouth in a gasp, but Flint shook his head minutely. Don’t talk about it, he seemed to be saying. He won’t be able to answer you.

Michael hesitated, fighting against every fiber of his being that longed to carry Alex inside himself so that he didn’t have to take another step on his own.

Flint released Alex as soon as he was on his feet again, and Alex opened the door and walked on inside as if nothing had happened. Michael stayed close and set the suitcase beside Alex’s couch as he took a seat. Flint went to open the windows, letting in the light, while Gregory said he would go make them some tea.

Michael sat down beside Alex, but Alex was staring into the distance, unseeing, his brows pinched slightly. Michael wanted to trace the path down the bridge of his nose, hoping it would ease whatever storm was raging in his head, but didn’t dare touch him.

Flint leaned against the wall, looking out the window as rustling sounded from the kitchen. When Michael risked speaking again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you hungry? I – I can go get you something.”

But Alex was already shaking his head, waking with a deep inhale. “No, no, thanks, Guerin.”

Flint tilted his head. “If you want him to stay here, Alex, I can go grab –”

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” Alex said, and went back to staring at nothing.

Flint nodded, unsurprised. “Yeah.”

Gregory came back a few minutes later, holding a tray of four mugs.

“Thanks,” Michael muttered as he handed him one. Alex hugged his with his hands.

“Hey, hey,” Flint said, setting his cup down and gently prying Alex’s fingers from around the steaming ceramic. “You’ll burn yourself, brother.”

“Hm? Oh.”

Gregory sat down in the armchair across from the couch. He rested his elbows on his thighs, tapping a finger against his own mug. A few minutes of silence, then –

“Alex,” he said, “do you want to . . . talk about –”

“No,” Alex said at once. “I don’t, I – I can’t.” He didn’t seem angry or upset. Just tired. There was a numbness to his expression that almost scared Michael.

He hesitated, then put a hand on Alex’s back. Then he dared to rub soothing circles, letting his eyes roam the airman, reassuring himself that Alex was okay. That was when he saw the line of dried blood on the back of his hand, his skin carved into and torn.

“Alex,” he breathed, holding up his hand. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Alex muttered, his brows furrowed as if just now remembering that this injury was here. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Michael gaped. “You did this to yourself?”

Flint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Leave it alone, Guerin.”

“Manes –”

“He’s fine,” Gregory said, his voice calm and intent. “It’s fine.”

Michael wanted to argue, to demand if they were crazy, if they weren’t seeing what Michael was seeing. But Alex just let his hand fall from Michael’s and patted his shoulder consolingly as if he was the one that had lost a friend. And Michael’s words caught in his throat.

Alex’s head fell back. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as he heaved a deep breath. “I . . . uh . . .” he sniffled, “you guys should go. I know you have work, I don’t want to keep you.”

Michael frowned. “Alex . . .”

He thought Gregory and Flint would definitely argue, that they’d refuse to leave their brother like this, but Gregory asked, “And you? You sure you don’t want one of us to get you something from the Crashdown?”

Alex shook his head. “No, I’m just gonna . . . head to bed. I’m tired after the plane.”

Flint nodded. “Okay. You have our numbers.”

“I know.”

“What? No,” Michael said, moving closer to Alex on the couch. “I’m staying here.”

“Guerin,” Alex said. “I already told you, I’m –”

“You’re not fine,” Michael nearly yelled.

“Guerin –” Gregory tried.

“He carved into his own skin! I’m staying!”

“Okay,” Flint said, nudging his chin at the door. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

Alex watched, only half-there, as Michael stood and followed Flint, hesitant to leave his airman at all.

The second the door closed, Michael demanded, “He’s not okay.”

“No kidding,” Flint frowned, a lot quieter than Michael was. “His brother just died, how do you think he’s doing?”

He smirked humorlessly. “And you two just wanna leave him. Let him fend for himself. After all this time, you still don’t care about what happens to him, do you?”

Flint tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “Who do you think Alex is? Some defenseless kid? You do realize he’s an Air Force Captain, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Big tough military man, I get it.”

“No,” Flint said easily. “You don’t.” He pressed a finger to Michael’s chest. “Don’t pretend you know what losing a brother-in-arms is like, especially for someone like Alex. Someone like us. You have no idea the kind of weight that’s on our shoulders.”

Michael faltered. He licked his lips. “All the more reason,” he said, “to stay with him.”

Flint considered Michael, and began to chuckle. “Wow,” he said. “You really think that little of him?”

Michael frowned. “He hurt himself.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose,” Flint said, like that was supposed to be a reassurance. “You have no idea what he’s going through, but Greg and I do.”

“But this guy –”

“Yeah,” he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Looks like this one was important. But he learned to live with it a long time ago. He’s not as broken as you think he is.”

Michael couldn’t let it go so easily. He remembered too well a conversation he and Alex had had months ago, in his bunker.

“I need to believe in a reason to stay.” What if this was it? The last straw? What if Alex was on a countdown?

He swallowed. “I’m going back inside.”

Flint grabbed his arm. Michael glared at him, but he was unrelenting. “Listen to me. I know you care about him –”

“I love him,�� Michael said fiercely. Flint’s gaze didn’t waver. Always as prepared for battle as Alex.

When he spoke next, his words were quieter, but no less commanding. “Then let him breathe. I know Alex doesn’t always say what he means, but he means this. That captain in there is so much stronger than you think he is.”

Michael glared. “I know Alex is strong.”

To his surprise, Flint’s gaze slightly softened. He shook his head, as if Michael had completely missed the point. “That’s not what I just said, Guerin.”

Alex woke at twilight to find he’d fallen asleep on his couch, his clothes and prosthetic still on. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes. He looked around, the pale light behind the blinds casting the house into dark shadows.

He shouldn’t have, but Alex lied back down, staring at the ceiling with one hand covering the other on his stomach. He heard nothing but his own breathing, and then not even that.

“Hey, Manes, have you ever been in love?”

Alex closed his eyes against the memory, and immediately, his mind filled with images of himself and Scott laying on opposite sides of his bed, staring at another ceiling.

He forced himself up again, furiously scrubbing his face. He sat there a second longer, staring at nothing and thinking of a mess of things, from what time he had to wake up tomorrow to errands he had to calls and texts and emails he probably had to answer –

“Guerin,” he called faintly, and was answered with silence. His shoulders fell. Oh yeah . . . He had asked them to leave. He knew it was for the best, there wasn’t really anything he thought he could say to any of them, but just saying Michael’s name brought him a slight peace that he couldn’t explain and which vanished as quickly as it came when Alex couldn’t find him. That had happened a lot in the past decade.

Scott’s smile came back to him. “That the cowboy I should be jealous of?”

Alex exhaled shakily, and pushed past the memory. He changed into his sweats, took his prosthetic off, and curled up in bed. He lay awake under the covers for several minutes that felt like hours, cramming a million other things into his mind to force out the one thought that he knew he couldn’t handle right now, and eventually, the darkness had mercy on him, and sleep took over.

Michael wanted to be useful. He’d spent the past two days wandering the junkyard, finding things to do that didn’t really need doing, if only to keep moving. He may have broken down several cars and driven Sanders crazy, but he was losing his mind.

At one point, he’d snapped, gotten in his truck, and made it halfway to Alex’s house before he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road and hit his forehead against the steering wheel.

“That captain in there is so much stronger than you think he is.”

“I know Alex is strong.”

“That’s not what I just said, Guerin.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “What does that mean?” he growled through grit teeth. Michael knew who Alex was, what he was. What did that matter?

Michael all but slammed the gearshift back again, and turned a corner to the Project Shepherd bunker instead. If he couldn’t take care of Alex, he could at least get through some of the files they had waiting there, look into a few leads so Alex didn’t feel like he had to himself.

The last thing Michael had been expecting when he’d pulled up to the hidden entrance was to find a familiar car parked there already. His heart leapt into his throat, and he almost stepped out of the truck without turning it off.

He wrenched the door open, and came down the stairs to find the white lights already on. Alex was at the far end of the bunker, typing at a computer. Michael stopped, staring.

Alex glanced up and gave him a quick, small smile. He was surrounded with open files, more than half of them marked. He shrugged a shoulder. “They gave me a week leave,” he said. “Figured I’d get something done.”

Michael didn’t know where to start. Are you any better? Have you slept? Did you want me to stay?

In the end, he managed a quirk of his lips and a light, “Don’t you military men ever rest?” He pulled up a chair next to Alex. “Oh, wait, don’t tell me. ‘I don’t know what rest means, Guerin. I can go for weeks, Guerin. I don’t actually need to be on leave, Guerin.’”

He smiled, but Alex did not seem amused, his eyes unmoving from the screen. “No,” he said simply. “I definitely need it. Way I’m feeling, I might just end up shooting anybody in a uniform.”

Michael faltered. Alex’s tone was light, but something in his eyes darkened, something frightening that Michael wasn’t used to seeing on his airman’s face. He hesitated, then, because he wanted to do something and didn’t know what, he reached out and covered Alex’s hand with his own.

Alex didn’t smile or look at Michael. Instead, he turned his hand over in Michael’s and gripped his fingers so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Michael tilted his head, trying to discern his thoughts. “Alex?”

He blinked. “Hm?”

“About . . . uh . . . that Mason guy –”

“Shh, shhh,” he shook his head, his eyes shut tight. “We don’t have to talk about that, I don’t want to talk about that.”

Michael stared. If he wasn’t so aware of Alex’s every move, of every inch of the airman’s skin that touched his own, he might’ve missed the way Alex’s fingers slightly trembled in his. But he was, so he didn’t.

He swallowed and nodded. He pulled Alex’s head in towards his with his other hand, and kissed his forehead.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

Alex’s grip did not loosen, his eyes did not open, his breathing did not calm for two whole minutes. Michael raised his other hand to rest between Alex’s shoulder blades, running up and down his spine, turning his nose into Alex’s hair and inhaling his scent.

Alex turned his head slightly so that Michael’s lips hovered above his. Michael’s eyes fell to Alex’s mouth, his own falling open. He could feel Alex’s hot breath against his bottom lip. His own breathing quickened as he thought about fitting his mouth against Alex’s, tasting his tongue, running a hand up his shirt and feeling his naked skin as he hadn’t gotten to do in over a year.

Michael wanted to be useful, and Alex always seemed able to breathe better when they were together. Maybe this would be useful. That, and Michael just really, really wanted it.

Somehow, as he always did, Alex was able to read his mind. His dark, hooded eyes looked up at Michael through long lashes. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“You want to help me feel better, Guerin?”

Michael’s eyes fluttered as he nodded, entranced. He leaned in, their mouths open. His breathing turned more and more ragged as the soft press of Alex’s lips against his own filled his gut with a fire. It had been too long since he’d gotten to touch.

Against Michael’s lips, Alex whispered, “Then help me,” and slowly closed their mouths in a kiss.

Michael’s eyes fell shut and a moan escaped his lips as he kissed Alex again, then again. He reached up, taking Alex’s face in his hands as he tilted his head, devouring his mouth.

“Baby,” he breathed against Alex’s lips between kisses, unable and unwilling to keep it in.

Alex whimpered at the nickname, and the sound spurred Michael on. Alex took Michael’s wrists, as if silently begging him not to leave. As if Michael would ever go anywhere.

“I,” Alex managed, “I want more. Touch me, Guerin.”

Michael looked at Alex then. His expression was filled with lust, his lips kiss-swollen, making Michael’s cock twitch in his jeans. He bit his lower lip, kissed Alex again, and nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s get back to the airstream –”

But Alex was already shaking his head, moving out of his chair. He worked on the buttons of his jeans, and without any hesitation at all, pushed them and his underwear down, revealing his half-hard length. Michael’s mouth fell open, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, imagining the taste of Alex on his tongue.

“Now,” he panted. “I want you now.”

Alex climbed onto Michael’s lap, his naked, smooth, hairy skin against the hard fabric of Michael’s jeans. Michael was fully hard now as his hands slowly rose up Alex’s thighs, reveling in the touch of his warm skin and imagining his body against his own. Then Alex undid the first two buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the ground. He was now completely naked as he straddled Michael, down to his toes. Michael was sure he would die.

Alex took Michael’s face in his hands, crashing their mouths together. He moaned against Michael’s lips as he grinded into his hardened, clothed cock.

“C’mon,” he breathed, his nimble fingers working on Michael’s belt. “Take them off. I want you to fuck me hard.”

“Alex,” Michael groaned, and in one rough tug, managed to tear off his belt. He pushed his pants and underwear down, releasing himself. As soon as his cock rubbed against Alex’s, his eyes rolled back into his head and he all but screamed.

“I’m ready,” Alex said between hard, wet, open kisses. He ran a hand up Michael’s stomach, his chest, scratching through the trail of hair and digging his nails into Michael’s nipples. “Please, Guerin. Fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed. “Yeah.” And he did as he’d fantasized doing for the past year. He aligned his cock to Alex’s hole with one hand, his other coming around to grab Alex’s ass, feeling his soft skin in his hands.

Alex choked on a scream as Michael took him in all the way, his hands gripping Michael’s face tightly against his neck where Michael got to bite and suck and lick and kiss as much as he wanted. When the airman was ready, Michael thrusted softly, not wanting to hurt him.

But Alex pressed his lips against Michael’s ear and commanded, “Harder, baby. I want to feel you for days.”

The thought was enough to erase all other from Michael’s mind, and he wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, his other still gripping Alex’s cheek as he thrusted up hard, Alex coming down just as roughly, as eagerly.

Alex came a split second before Michael, and only through Michael’s sheer force of will that Alex enjoy it for as long as possible that he managed to keep himself from letting go in those first few seconds. They breathed heavily into the small space between them, and Michael leaned in, taking Alex’s lips in long, lazy kisses.

Alex was still running a hand through Michael’s curls, making his eyes flutter. When their breaths evened and Alex’s movements slowed, Michael looked up to find his airman staring at his chest, his brows pinched together slightly. His eyes were unfocused.

Michael felt a fear he’d almost forgotten about climb into his throat now. He swallowed it down, and put his fingers under Alex’s chin, lifting his gaze.

“Hey,” he whispered, moving his hand to cup Alex’s jaw, his thumb caressing his cheek. “Look at me, baby. Look at me, I’m right here.”

“Um,” Alex said and cleared his throat, closing his eyes as if trying to wake himself from his haze. His fists laid curled against Michael’s chest. He brought his head down, his forehead against Michael’s chin as he exhaled shakily. He looked around. “My clothes, I –”

“I’ve got ‘em,” Michael said immediately, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. He’d wanted to stay with Alex like this, naked and holding each other, a little longer. Instead, he used his powers to bring Alex’s clothes right up to him.

But before he got dressed, Alex curled in against Michael, pressing his nose to Michael’s cheek, his lips brushing the cowboy’s jaw. Michael wrapped his arms around him, taking his chance to press light kisses to Alex’s bare shoulder.

Alex seemed to need a second to straighten his spine and brace himself before he grabbed his clothes from midair and pulled them on. He gently moved off Michael so that he could do the same, and when they were both dressed, Michael grabbed a file, not knowing what else to do. He kept glancing at Alex who was staring at his computer screen, his fist against his lips as he seemed too distracted to keep doing whatever he was doing.

Finally, Michael couldn’t take it anymore, and he said, “Tell me what to do.”

He knew he sounded desperate, his demand more of a plea, but he didn’t care. Because Alex wasn’t acting like Alex, and he was breaking, but he wasn’t breaking, and it was all very scary and not where Michael wanted his airman to be.

Alex frowned. “Do?”

“To fix this,” he said, and winced at how stupid it sounded. But he couldn’t stop himself. “O-Or make it . . . I don’t know, easier. Tell me what I have to do, I’ll do anything, Alex.”

Alex’s look was unreadable as Michael held his gaze. Then something shifted, something turned sadder, and suddenly, it was Alex who held Michael. “I feel like there’s a hole in my chest, Michael. And it’ll never heal.” His lips quirked in a soft, helpless smile. “And there’s no fixing that.”

Michael watched, speechless and unable to do anything as Alex closed his laptop with a sigh, put his hands in his pockets, and made his way out of the bunker.

Alex finished scrubbing down his counter, and looked up, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. The kitchen, like his living room, bedroom, guestroom, and bathrooms, was spotless. The sky outside the window was pitch black, the wind still rustling through the empty branches and the yellow, dead grass. The world still turning, and not turning at all.

Alex’s phone on the table behind him buzzed, the screen lighting with new messages. Alex picked it up, scanning the texts. Flint said he would meet him at the Pony tomorrow night after they were both done at the base for drinks, Gregory said he’d be bringing over lunch so they could eat together, Clay left him a voicemail, telling him to call when he had the chance. It was Liz and Maria who asked if he was okay, if he needed them to come over right away.

Alex asked them not to. His brothers hadn’t asked if he was okay. He was grateful; he didn’t have an answer right now. He felt like he never might.

“Miss me already, Manes?”

Alex shut his eyes. The edges of his phone dug into his palms. The last phone call he and Scott had had, what had they said? He didn’t remember the exact conversation. Shouldn’t he have remembered?

But no. There was a moment from their last meeting that stuck in his mind.

“Start counting down, brother,” Scott had told him, a whispered eagerness in his voice. “I’m coming to Roswell next. You just tell me who I need to beat up.”

“What’re you coming here for?” Alex had said. “I’ll come see you wherever you want. Just pick anywhere else.”

“No,” Scott had said more softly. “No more running, Manes.”

“A drive,” Alex said, hoping the sound of a voice, even if it was his own, would keep the memories at bay. “I need a drive.”

The drive wasn’t helping. Alex had the window open, the icy wind biting his face and burning his eyes. Alex’s hands were clenched painfully tight around the steering wheel, his fingers numb with cold. His jaw was clenched, that small trickling in his chest turned to painful hammering now.

Scott’s letters. I’ll never get them again. His secret phone calls. That phone will never ring now. And he had been planning to come to Roswell. I should’ve brought him sooner. All the days on leave, I should’ve brought him. Roswell would’ve been better with him here.

“I should’ve brought him,” Alex said, his words breaking in his own ears.

Alex clenched his jaw, and pressed harder on the gas pedal. Scott would never see Roswell now, would never meet his friends, or know Michael. Places Alex could’ve taken him, the stars he could’ve shown him. They were brighter in Roswell than anywhere else in the world. And now his brother would never see them.

Headlights. Alex saw a pair of headlights far ahead, the large truck driving, for some reason, on the wrong lane. Or was Alex on the wrong one? It didn’t matter. He didn’t move. The gas pedal was on the floor of the car now.

As the truck neared, the headlights growing larger, brighter, the thought kept coming to Alex; if he could see Scott again, if all the pain and loss would finally end, it would all be okay. That was what he wanted, right? To stop the pain?

BEEP BEEEEEEP!

“No more running, Manes.”

Alex gasped, the realization of what he was doing hitting him like an explosion, and he wrenched the steering wheel aside at the last second. The car slowly came to a stop as the angry trucker’s honks faded into the distance behind him.

Alex’s trembling hands fell off the steering wheel as he slumped in his seat. Tears streamed down his face, his own ragged breathing like thunder in his ears in the silence around him.

He didn’t want to do this alone. Not this time. His hands still shaking, Alex turned the ignition back on.

Michael couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing in his bed the past several hours before he’d given up on the idea of resting, and he went down to his bunker to tinker instead. He kept running into dead ends there, too.

When he’d tried and failed to solve a calculated projection for the eighth time, he’d had enough. His mind was flooded with thoughts of Alex, his dark eyes, his quiet words, his naked body and the way he’d curled against Michael, eager to stay close.

Michael let the pen fall from his hands. He needed to go to the Pony. Maybe he could get really drunk and forget that, somewhere in his house, Alex was probably locking himself out of his own mind, breaking apart and unwilling to let anyone near him. Because that was what it meant to be a military captain, right? Weather the storm alone? Prove that you were tougher than everyone else? Alex just didn’t need anybody because he’d been through so much worse, was that it?

The thought had him shaking. He pulled his shirt over his head as soon as he’d made it up the ladder. He thought he’d throw any somewhat clean clothes on and go drown his sorrows in a glass . . . then a car pulled up into the junkyard.

The low beams dimmed as the driver’s door opened. It was Alex. The lights turned off, and the moonlight revealed his tear-streaked face, his lower lip trembling, his chest rising and falling as if he could barely breathe. And Michael could see and think of nothing and no one else.

A sob escaped Alex’s lips, and Michael exhaled sharply before running to him. They met in the middle, Alex’s arms around Michael’s shoulders as he cried into the crook of his neck. Michael held him tightly enough that it should’ve hurt, but he didn’t care. He brought a hand up Alex’s neck to rest in the soft strands of his hair, his body trembling. Michael held him tighter.

“I’m right here,” Michael whispered into his neck. “I’m right here, baby.”

Alex wept as Michael had never heard before, his nails clawing into Michael’s back. Michael closed his eyes, reveling in the sting. Because it meant Alex was here, with him, safe and far away from what had taken his brother-in-arms.

“I – I want to see him,” Alex cried. “Just one more time, I want to see him.”

“Shh,” Michael said, rubbing his back soothingly. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Alex buried his face against Michael’s skin, the sounds of his cries in the dark, silent night shattering Michael’s heart, one crack at a time.

In seconds, Michael had the bonfire started. Long after Alex had turned silent, Michael swaying them left and right, he led the airman to a chair and let him soak in the flames. He had his elbows rested on his thighs when Michael came back out, after hurriedly shoving a shirt on, and handed him a bottle.

Alex took it with a murmur of thanks and downed half of it in one gulp. Michael pulled his chair closer and sat down next to him. And he waited.

After a long while of staring into the fire, the gold and orange flames reflected in his dark eyes, Alex quietly said, “I never know what to say. When this happens.” He shook his head. “It’s a repeat, but none of them are the same. You know? Scott wasn’t . . .” he faltered, and closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

His eyes glistened and he wiped the back of his hand against his nose before he went on, “They’re not lumped in together, you know? I remember each of their faces, I remember everything. And I felt it, I – I felt it coming. I know you don’t think it’s possible, but I did. Because he was part of me, I felt it.”

Michael swallowed. “He sounded special.”

Alex’s eyes filled with tears that fell before he could stop them. “He was so good. So brave.” He huffed a sad chuckle. “You would’ve liked him. I mean –” another sniffle “—he hit on me all the time, so I don’t think you would’ve loved him, but . . . you would’ve really liked him, Guerin.” He shook his head. “I should’ve introduced you, I should’ve done so much more for him.”

Michael reached over, gripping Alex’s forearm. “Hey. That’s not on you.”

Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, it is, Guerin. You live with that. Knowing that your family’s on a time limit that’s usually a lot shorter than most people’s. And when it comes, all you can think of is the time you wasted. You don’t know what the good side is anymore, and eventually, they all become enemies because they all kept you apart.”

He huffed, ducking his head as another tear fell. “It’s . . .”

“A lot of weight to carry,” Michael finished, remembering Flint’s words. How much Alex had on his shoulders . . .

And suddenly, as Michael watched this beautiful man, carrying himself only by the memories of the people that had become a part of his heart, by the love he had for this family he’d created for himself, he realized how far apart he and Alex actually were.

He leaned in as a tear rolled down Alex’s cheek, as he was too weary to wipe it away. Michael kissed it, and Alex looked up.

“You’re so . . . grown up,” he whispered. “Tell me what to do. Please, Alex, tell me what to do.” Tell me what to do to keep you.

Alex’s considered him. Then he tugged at Michael’s arm until Michael was against him. Alex rested his head against his shoulder. “Just let me touch you,” he breathed, “for a little longer.”

Michael wrapped Alex in his arms and held him tightly, one hand going up and down his arm, his other hand sliding into his hair. Alex’s hand came up Michael’s chest, as if eager to feel under his shirt, to have that skin-on-skin contact that reassured them like little else did.

“Let me keep you,” Michael whispered into Alex’s hair.

Alex turned his face into Michael’s shoulder. His grip tightened on the cowboy’s body, and for a second, Michael thought he would say yes. Then –

“I should get back.”

Michael’s face fell. “I – I take it back,” he said quickly, “I just want you to stay the night –”

But Alex kissed his jaw softly, then the corner of his mouth, then his lips, effectively silencing him.

When he pulled back, he was cupping Michael’s cheek. “I have work tomorrow,” he said. “All my things are back at the house. Okay?”

Michael nodded, and kissed Alex one more time before letting him up. “I’ll drive you,” he said.

Alex managed a smile. “My car’s here.”

“Then we’ll go in yours.”

“Then you’ll be stuck with me.”

“Yes, please,” Michael breathed, taking hold of Alex’s waist again.

Alex huffed a laugh which quickly turned to a cry. He turned away, covering his face with one hand. When he looked up again, his smile was weak and his eyes were rimmed red.

“I – uh – think I just need to be alone.”

Michael wished he could be angry, frustrated. But instead, all he felt was fear. Alex didn’t seem stubborn to him anymore, just . . . far away. Why? What had changed?

“Hey,” Alex said softly, and pulled him in for another kiss. “I’ll be back. I need you, too.”

Michael swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he whispered. But I have no idea how to help you. I don’t even think I know who you are.

“Alex, I . . .” I love you. He’d almost said it. He’d wanted to. But Alex was heartbroken and lost, and that wasn’t what he needed to hear right now. Instead, Michael pulled Alex in one more time, kissing him hungrily.

“I’d do anything for you,” he panted against his lips when they pulled apart again.

Alex nodded, his forehead pressed against Michael’s, and he roughly wiped at his eyes with his forearm before he turned to leave. Michael watched him walk away, already freezing at the loss of his touch. What was wrong with him? What was it that felt so off this time?

“Because he was part of me, I felt it.”

Was that what this was? No, it was different. Michael couldn’t begin to list the ways, but it was different. Alex gave him a soft smile before he climbed into the driver’s seat and disappeared.

The man that made music and smiled blushingly whenever Michael kissed him, and the man that held the world on his shoulders, always one crack away from shattering completely. They’d always been the same to Michael, but something had changed now.

He had once confessed that he couldn’t get used to seeing Alex in his uniform. At the time, he’d played it off as a joke, though something in his heart had stung at the image. And he’d never understood why. Now he did.

“He’s mine,” he said before he could help himself. The silence of the night threatened to engulf him, to keep him quiet. Alex, after all, belonged to a different world. He had a life and identity outside of Roswell, outside of Project Shepherd and music and aliens that had no place for a temperamental, telekinetic cowboy.

Michael didn’t care. He didn’t know where he fit in with all of this, and the painful thudding of his heart served to betray his true fears of never being allowed to belong to the airman, but he didn’t care.

“He’s mine,” he kept repeating, hoping that the words would be enough to make it real. “Alex belongs with me. He’s mine.”

***

I’m exhausted! I might be sharing an IG with y’all soon for my writing/reading. Just in case anyone would like to follow something like that 💖

#michael guerin #alex manes #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tw: self harm #tw: brief suicidal thoughts #malex angst #malex fluff #michael vlamis #tyler blackburn

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moon-u · 4 years ago

Text

Jean kirstein x reader || aot

Title : wings of freedom

Pairing : jean kirstein x reader

Chapter summary : it is during a perilous mission that they realize how precious time is

Notes : I wrote this overnight and was very tired, but I absolutely wanted to finish it and post it ASAP. I was hanging out on YouTube and I came across an edit on jean, it prompted me to write this

__ ☕︎ __

We were in the field, in the middle of a perilous mission.

Soldiers were dying, and the shrill cries echoed incessantly in our ears.

It was such a horrible sight that we had before our eyes. Our comrades, who had promised to offer body and soul to embody hope within its walls, disappeared one after the other.

What was going on? Is this a nightmare?

Why doesn't it stop? Is there even an end to this massacre

My gaze was empty of emotion. I was holding myself

right there, looking at our friends, our acquaintances, the people we had known for almost 5 years, suffering, crying, screaming in agony ... begging ... so that it wasn't their last day. Their last smiles, their last breaths, their last thoughts.

He was praying, what's the point? Was there even someone to have faith in? If so, why are we sending these demons who have decimated hundreds of thousands of lives in front of other human beings while wisely biding their hours within these walls. Serve four hours for these giants devoid of feeling, all that we were. Cattle to be hunted.

My mind suddenly woke up, bringing me back to harsh reality. Even though all of this was unfolding in front of my eyes, there was still hope. We won't lose like that. I wouldn't lose like that by doing nothing

My legs finally began to move, causing me to run at full speed on the high roofs. I had to fight. I have to fight.

My three-dimensional gear carried me through the air, making me feel light, powerful. Eliminating as many titans as possible on the way, about thirty were slaughtered with my blades glistening with hot blood.

We had been ordered to withdraw to a base in order to draft a new strategic plan. Given that fighting without a specific plan brought nothing but victims by the hundreds on the counter.

Once the plan was in place and hesitantly approved by everyone, I turned to return to my strategic position. This plan was really very risky, but the best we had on hand so far. The only hope we hung up on. Most of the best soldiers were either seriously wounded or dead like heroes.

"Do you really think we have a chance of winning against them ?? I'm telling you, we would have a better chance of surviving by retreating"

I automatically stopped my steps when I heard his hopeless words. Is that how everyone saw the situation. To retreat because it was risky?

"face it ... this humanity no longer has any hopes that it clings to, you made it obvious"

The soldiers nodded at his words.

"It's a beautiful speech you have there kirstein" I said without emotion, my eyes fixed on the floor. The people around me moved away from me, creating a space, a bule around me. "I did not know that we had a good talker within our ranks"

"they all agree with my words though"

"Do you want to get killed too? Is that really what you want y / n?"

"yes" I said, looking up at him, looking him in the eye, "I don't mind getting eaten alive if that means dying for a good cause"

"How can you think of yourself as soldiers by giving up like that? By influencing a whole regiment of fighters on top of it. Shits like you ,are hoping to have a good life without lifting a finger to get it, that's all what matters ... Do you think you can hope for a future by thinking this way?

I walked slowly towards him

"You say there is no more hope and we have to make it obvious, but here within these walls, as long as we live, that hope is us. How can we hope for a future without fear if hope itself gives up the fight for unnecessary reasons?

"go ahead" I said "follow him if you really want to. Anyway a soldier who fights for no reason is already dead after the first step on the attack ground. Personally I will fight until the end. go away while i fight for your comfortable and loving life, i am not afraid to sacrifice myself for a better future.

“I looked up, looking at them all one by one.

"after my death, and only after my death. You can come to my grave and tell me that there is no more hope, that I was wrong. That I would have fought for nothing, perished for nothing" I said fixing my gaze on his chocolate eyes

“I'd rather die this way than give up without fighting to the end. I would push my limits like It was taught me so well in these five years

“Watch me die and go. Or… follow me and fight. In the name of your families, of your dead comrades, of your desire for revenge, of your ardent hatred towards these vile creatures. Fight for a reason or give up for no reason. Dying here or there, there won't be much difference anyway.

"Me y / n f / n, I would fight body and soul. As I promised during my first initiation, such as the salvation that I made that day in the name of this humanity"

I left the room without letting any glance at the person who was looking at me now, watching me go, wide-eyed and open mouth in shock at my words.

With my three-dimensional gear, I roamed the streets eliminating as many titans as possible. Blood was on my head from these vile things. There were still no soldiers. So I really used my saliva in the wind, what a waste of time. I eliminated ten of them before landing on a roof to change my blades. One of my blades was stuck in my gear and I was taking too long. Much too long. In the current situation, no soldier could afford to stay more than five minutes in a fixed place, as open as a roof. It was almost suicide.

I had almost managed to sort it out, when a gigantic hand grabbed my waist, sending me up into the air. A twenty meter titans held me in the air, erasing all gravity from my suspended body. My blade had fallen. I couldn't die now. I haven't eliminated enough.

He led me quietly to his large canines full of blood , to devour me. I took a last breath, closing my eyes, thinking the pain would be more bearable this way. I automatically reopened them when I heard a familiar sound. Three-dimensional equipment. Someone was coming towards me. He was followed by a hundred people flying in the air.

He sliced off the titan's finger taking me with him in the air, pressed against his chest. He made us enter a building breaking the window. We were rolling on the ground, with some shard of glass below us. I stood up, looking at my savior. Jean kirschtein.

I looked at him in surprise. My words had finally served.

"don't look at me like that. It's just that you found the right words to talk to the herds of cowards that we were 10 minutes ago" he said ruffling his jacket, sending the few pieces of glass on the ground.

I gave him a slight smile, proud of myself.

So I had succeeded

"Hey, I saved your life, you could at least thank me, you-"

" thank you so much "

"you know I said it just like that" he said scratching his neck

"you will appreciate it later kirstein we have no time to-"

"why kirstein eh?"

"That's your damn last name"

“Well for the record my parents spawned me with a name,” he said sarcastically.

I sighed and walked over to the window, I needed to get my blade. I was ready to let go of my three-dimensional when a hand grabbing my wrist stopped me

He slammed me against the wall, smashing his lips against mine. His hand passed over my cheek, stroking. He pulled me by the waist, pressing my body against mine. He deepens the kiss. He nibbled on my lower lip, and his tongue entered my mouth, dancing a fierce struggle with mine. I was still eyes wide open, shocked, and motionless in the face of his strong grip. After a while my eyes danced firmly enjoying the possible last kiss I would receive from a man before I died in battle

He pulled back a tiny bit, grading his hand on my waist and his hand on my cheek. He was looking me in the eye, with a slightly choppy breath from the hot kiss he had started.

"Kirstein"

He pecked my lips quickly, silencing me.

"Shut up. I absolutely wanted to do it before I died. So on the one hand it's your fault I'm here" he said in a humorless tone "I was a coward earlier, but like Usually, your words opened my eyes ... you always had the right words to give hope "

He was heading for the windows smashed by our shattering entrance.

"So this is your last wish?" I said watching him go

He turned around "Truly .. it's one of my last wishes" he chuckled "if I would have completed the list entirely you wouldn't be standing here fully dressed" he gave me a smirk.

He was about to jump

"Jeans"

"don't get killed"

He didn't turn around, his back facing me. He stood there for a few seconds, before jumping up and activating his gear. Flying it through the air.

More than return to combat now.

In the end, all our efforts paid off. We got rid of these monsters one after another. Once back, soldiers came to thank me for spitting in their faces all these words which had lit them in the darkness into which fear had plunged them.

I had not seen kirschtein again. I was looking for him without really doing it. Glancing around as soon as a boy looked like that horse's head.

I got up then, heading to my dorm before curfew. I was walking peacefully through the halls, when a strong grip on my wrist made me follow the person who had dragged me behind her.

Given the dim light, I couldn't clearly see who was dragging me, but I could clearly recognize who I was looking for by their scent. He ended his way in an empty room, lit by a single, insignificant little candle.

"Kirstein-"

He kissed me again, like this moment, but with a lot more passion. Pushing me against the wall. The room was silent, and only a few noises were heard, those of our lips meeting.

The kiss was coming to an end, he pressed his forehead to mine, panting. We had lasted well over three minutes.

"I didn't know horses kiss so well" I said mockingly

"tch. You just messed up everything f / n"

"I…" He reconnected our lips a second time, silencing me, then looked at me with a smile.

"Tell me" I said walking away, "do you do one last will, or ..."

"y / n f / n" he said with a sigh, "you never noticed did you?"

"You never noticed .. how I was obsessed with you" he confessed looking at the ground.

"It's creepy jean" I said smiling

"You can't help but ruin the mood, eh?" He said chuckling "in truth I myself hadn't realized all this, how much I wanted you. always believed it was pure admiration as a soldier. It's true you were always the best at anything you did. After jealousy followed, when I saw you often hanging out with jeager and his groups of clowns. Then love. earlier, for the first time. I felt a greater fear than dying eaten by these beasts. I saw how determined you were. And seeing you go"

"seeing you leave .. I thought that would be the last time I would see you. That's what made me change my mind. I didn't want to see you die without my being able to time to call you mine "

"I was so scared" I saw a tear about to fall from her beautiful eyes.

"I noticed that time was our most precious thing right now. And even though it's limited. I want to use it up with you."

"I love you" he said with a sigh "and until today this is the biggest evidence I have been confronted with" he said looking at me

I kept silent about his confession. Jean kirschtein. Stood in front of me. Redness visible on his cheeks. Admitting that he loves me.

"I-"

"If you want to reject me, do it quickly. Please. It's embarrassing enough like that and-"

This time, it was I who interrupted her, fixing her lips to mine. I ran my hands behind his neck, pulling him closer, He slid his hands against my waist, hugging me tightly.

He pulled back looking at me with the biggest smile ever

"I guess that means yes," he scolded me to himself, supporting me against his chest. Take me in deep admiration.

#jean kirstein x reader #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #jean kirstein #snk x reader #snk fanfiction

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aurora-nuova · 4 years ago

Text

Rude Love

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Naruto

Universe: Modern AU

Relationships:

Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara (main)

Senju Hashirama/Uzumaki Mito (side)

Characters: Senju Tobirama, Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Izuna, Senju Hashirama, Senju Itama, Uzumaki Mito

@madatobiweek Week 4: There was only one bed OR Not realizing they are already dating

Summary:

Summer sun, cool waves, a beautiful beach. Nothing could go wrong on this long awaited, blessed holiday to the sea, right? W r o n g!

Madara should’ve just pushed his best friend off of that cliff they had been playing on as kids when he had the chance.

Read on AO3

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Chapter 01: Something new

Madara startled awake with a curse on his lips when a cheering Hashirama‘s elbow hit the pillow his head had been resting upon but momentarily got distracted by a female speaker announcement.

“—and gentleman, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position and your seatbelt is securely fastened—”

Ah, apparently it was time for their airplane to land. And surely, looking out of the window confirmed it as no clouds were greeting him. Instead, the ground was rapidly closing in on them.

Turning his head away from the window, he threw Mito—who was sitting on Hashirama‘s right— a tired but bemused look that she promptly returned when her husband started making quiet hooting noises at the bumpy arrival at their destination.

What a child, he thought fondly as he acknowledged a warm feeling making its way through his body. Though such mushy thoughts were only allowed in the privacy of his mind and were never to be discussed out loud or lest he got made fun of by Izuna or his other siblings.

Looking at his best friend, he sometimes wished he had half as much, well, or maybe only a third of his positivity. At least on his good days.

Though, on second thought, it sounded rather exhausting.

Maybe his slightly more realistic approach to life wasn‘t so bad after all, he mused as said best friend turned around to him with a beaming smile, not even having noticed that he had been the cause of his interrupted sleep in his glee. Returning a sleepy smile, he realized that Hashirama probably was positive enough for both of them. Or rather both of their close families, if he were to be honest.

It still amused him to this day that no sane person would expect this child of a man to be a renowned paediatrician but sometimes people were apparently wrong. Very wrong.

Because jokes aside, fortunately, Hashirama indeed could be serious when his patients and their parents trusted him with the children’s life. And doing so, he tended to them with unmatched enthusiasm and passion.

So all was good, he guessed.

Stretching his stiff muscles through a yawn, he noticed familiar tresses of long, dark hair sticking out from between the gap in the seats in front of him. Zeroing in on it with a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he nimbly stuck his hand through the gap to pull one of the bigger chunks of hair, only to immediately receive a satisfyingly high pitched yelp.

“OUCH! You ass!” Izuna screeched turning his head back around to him and hastily reclaimed all of his hair with a scowl, making Madara huff in amusement.

“Oh please, stop being such a drama quee-” the older of the two started retorting when suddenly his younger brother turned around in his seat somewhat—seatbelt still fastened, making the endeavour pretty awkward looking as he smushed his face between the backrests to make a grab for Madara’s own hair.

“No!” he groused out, leaning away from the squiggly hand. “Stop!”

“Payback‘s a bitch, Nii-san!” the younger Uchiha snarked back, voice muffled by the seat and continued to make grabs for his hair that Madara defended by slapping his grabby hands away.

“Children, please,” Mito‘s exasperated voice suddenly broke through their argument, making both of them stop—Madara crossing his arms while Izuna turned back around and untangled himself from the space between the two seats, arm almost getting stuck in the process.

“I‘m not a child, he is!” Izuna grumbled out as he was facing the right way again, missing the red head‘s amused but quiet laugh.

Wondering why the biggest child of them all hadn‘t joined them in their squabbling and actually kept quiet for once, the Uchiha looked back at Hashirama, noticing that he too had an arm moving, but in the right gap between the seats in front of himself. The Uchiha made a confused sound and nudged the taller man who then looked at him with a questioning smile.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to wake up Tobi and Itama, I saw them asleep when I left for the bathroom a few minutes ago,” the brunette answered with a sunny smile as the Uchiha hummed in acknowledgement as people around them started to get their luggage from the overhead stowage spaces to leave the plane.

Finally exiting the airport‘s sliding doors with their heavy luggage to walk into a metaphorical wall of humidity as the sun tried to roast them alive only made Madara close his eyes in misery. The heat was so much worse than he had anticipated.

Great

To be completely honest, he hadn‘t even wanted to come here in the first place, would have instead preferred a milder, more enjoyable weather for his long-awaited vacation but unfortunately, he had lost in the poll their two families had held to determine what this trip‘s destination would be as everyone except Itama and him had voted for this dreaded hot climate as their travel destination.

Surprisingly even Tobirama—currently dressed in long pants with a long-sleeved sweatshirt‘s hood and a pair of sunglasses covering his face—had wanted to come here.

Whatever, he would make the best of this holiday.

As it was, unfortunately, not all of their siblings had been able to come with them due to scheduling difficulties. However, they had already agreed on another trip in winter when hopefully their schedules would align a bit more smoothly with much more desirable weather, at least for him.

He already looked forward to it.

Something he could live without though, was the planning and scheduling part as arranging things for the six of them had been a logistical nightmare already. What with Itama having to hand his last thesis in the day before while Izuna and Tobirama respectively had to write their exams a few hours before their flight took off.

He himself probably wouldn’t even have been able to take time off on such short notice if his position at work as detective hadn‘t been so high and he himself and his good reputation hadn’t been so well regarded amongst their ranks and—no, he was joking. In reality he still had a few open favours with his boss and promptly used one of them to be able to be here with his family and friends when Hashirama had texted him the booking confirmation.

His boss obviously hadn‘t been too happy. But after Madara had helped out countless of times, sacrificing his free time again and again when needed, raked in so many extra hours, that he had accumulated a lot of those favours. And just to be on the safe side, had tied all loose ends at work in preparation which thankfully had swayed the man to agree in the end.

The Uchiha briefly wondered how Obito and his fellow colleagues were doing before Izuna chatting him up caught his attention.

Next thing he knew, they were leaving their rented cars parked outside an Italian restaurant and taking their seats around a big but crammed table as Hashirama had rejected the friendly personnel’s offer to push two tables together because apparently he wanted to cuddle in this inhumane heat or who knew why tree brain hadn‘t wanted the second table because Madara for sure didn‘t.

Smushed between Izuna and Hashirama, he could already feel the sweat run down his back as he pushed his sunglasses atop his head, tangling up a few strands of hair that he couldn’t care less about at the moment in the process.

“Get anything you want, it‘s on me to celebrate the end of the semester for our three youngest and of course, the start of our amazing holidays together!“ his best friend exclaimed when everyone had received their beverages and toasted all of them, resulting in clinking of glass and various intonations of gratitude amongst them.

After Madara downed his glass in one go and lowered it back on the table with a loud clink, he rummaged through his pockets to find a godforsaken hair tie. His hair was already uncomfortably sticking to the back of his neck. Frowning, he gave up when he came up empty.

Hashirama probably didn‘t have one on hand, as he only tied it for work and Mito used hair pins, which left him with only Izuna who was typing away on one of his social media accounts. Leaning over, he saw a snapshot out of the airplane window.

“Pretty picture.”

Izuna immediately shot him a dubious look.

“Okay. What do you want?” his younger brother asked with an expectant look on his face.

“Can‘t I compliment you without wanting anything?” he asked bemused.

“Oh please,” the other huffed out.

“Alright, whatever. Do you have a hair tie?”

Izuna took a terribly amused look at his horribly mussed up hair. The stupid humidity wasn‘t doing the older Uchiha any favours, making his usually wild hair poof up and stick out in an even crazier mess than usual. He was well aware but the brat didn‘t even try to stifle his derisive snort.

“Yes, but know that this will cost you a third of your dessert,” the little shit haughtily replied as he took a tie out of a bag between them.

“A fifth and you have yourself a deal,” Madara huffed, holding his hand out.

“A fourth and you have to order something I actually like,” Izuna countered, holding out the desired hair tie just out of reach.

“Deal,” he heaved out with a heavy sigh, accepting the cargo and tying up his hair into a messy ponytail, immediate relief flooding him, as the slightly less warm air of the ceiling fan caressed the back of his neck. Much better.

Madara shot his greedy brother and his mostly immaculate hair an annoyed look, when the other happily turned back to continue typing away on his smartphone.

He would need to steal whatever the little shit had used to wrestle his own mane into submission out of his luggage and use it on his hair tomorrow when the other inevitably would still be snoozing away the morning, since he liked to sleep in.

They had the same hair structure, after all, but he wasn‘t willing to pay the unreasonably high price his sibling surely would come up with as soon as he asked him about the product he must‘ve been using to tame their family brand of crazy hair.

Under no circumstances would he walk around like some caveman after today, though.

Right now everyone was still tired and mussed up from their flight, even elegant Mito, so his crazier than usual hair wouldn‘t be noticed too badly.

But starting tomorrow, that excuse wouldn‘t fly anymore, as everyone would attempt to look presentable for the undoubtedly many pictures Hashirama and Izuna would take in the span of their holidays. And seriously, latter didn‘t need even more blackmailing material, as he already had more than enough of that stowed away already.

But more importantly, tomorrow Tobirama wouldn‘t be so exhausted anymore that his head would look like it was ready to loll onto the table.

Seriously, the poor guy looked ready to fall off the chair any minute if it weren‘t for Itama on his left, holding him up in an embrace while happily chatting with him and Izuna squished in on his right, forcing him into a somewhat upright position.

The younger Senju seemed way too tired to even notice much today, belatedly reacting to any verbal or physical stimuli as far as he had seen.

In fact, the exhausted albino probably couldn’t wait until they finished their food and finally drove to the hotel so he could catch up on all of that lost sleep tonight. However, that also meant that the albino‘s sharp eyes would be scrutinizing and analyzing everyone and everything starting with tomorrow, so he needed to look presentable if not a bit nicer than usual at least.

Feeling eyes bore into the side of his head, he inwardly startled at being caught staring, as his eyes slid back over to Izuna who was wiggling his eyebrows and pursing his lips at him in an imitation of a kiss.

“Shut up!” he quietly hissed and shoved at him, hoping no one had noticed the idiot.

“But I‘m not saying anything!” the brat cackled, as he bumped into an unresponsive Tobirama next to him, subsequently rattling Itama who shot them a quick bemused but confused look.

“Just stop it, you ass,” he grumbled out, refraining from hitting his younger brother upside the head to avoid any additional spotlight from the chatting couple by his side to keep the cause of the start of the situation under wraps.

There was no need for Izuna to spout lies about him ogling the light haired man like he had a crush on him or something similarly stupid. Definitely lies. Shut up.

He avoided looking in the albino‘s direction for the rest of their duration at the restaurant, even when Izuna stole more than a fourth of his dessert.

But apparently things were still going too smoothly and the universe wanted to punish him for whatever sins he had accumulated over his life at once because right before they entered their hotel to check in, Hashirama abruptly planted his feet on the searing hot concrete under a palm tree and waved them over.

Oh god, what would this be about?

Judging by the massive grin on his face, it couldn‘t be anything good.

When everyone was situated around him, Hashirama clapped his hands.

“Alright, since we always, well, almost! Since we almost always do the same room distributions, I came up with an idea this time,” he revealed giddily.

“Wait, what?” Madara exclaimed confused as the taller man started rummaging in his pant pocket.

“We‘re drawing straws!“ the idiot exclaimed joyously as he held out a fist of sticks, receiving mixed reactions from everyone around him.

“Please tell me you‘re not serious?“ the oldest Uchiha replied with a sinking feeling.

“Why not?“

“Mito, your wife, is the only female in this group?“ he tried reasoning to no avail.

“Oh yes, that‘s why we‘re sharing a room!“ the stupid tree answered him cheerfully.

And it was that moment that Madara actually took a look at the sticks in his hand and noticed that there were only four of them. Opening his mouth, Hashirama immediately interrupted him.

“Because we booked on such short notice, they only had one room with two single beds, the other two are double beds. Mito and I will take one of those but there‘s still the question of who will get the other two rooms each,“ the older Senju explained with a smile.

“Still, it doesn‘t make any sense why we should draw lots in the first place. I don’t care in what kind of bed I sleep in with Izuna,“ Madara said scowling as he crossed his arms.

“But Itama and Izuna want to try something new and right now you’re the only one not agreeing,” the brunette said pouting.

“You didn’t even give me a heads up— Wait, what? Since when does snowflake agree to your stupid ideas?” he asked, throwing the two Senju brothers in question a confused look. One of them half asleep and not even listening, the other one pouting down at him.

After all, out of the siblings Tobirama was the only one stopping Hashirama’s mischief on a daily basis when things looked like they would get out of hand while the two younger ones loved to indulge in their eldest brother’s silly antics.

“Anija asked him on our way to the airport,” Itama helpfully supplied, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Do you really think that‘s fair? Snowflake has been closer to a walking zombie than a human being!“ he groused out, scowl intensifying.

Tobirama very belatedly pursed his lips in a pout and softly furrowed his brows but didn‘t react any further, making the older Uchiha feel all sorts of fuzzy and mushy things. God no. Trying to not show any emotion besides annoyance on his face was getting harder by the second.

“No offence, but that’s a very underhanded tactic for you, Hashirama. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days,” the older Uchiha accused to hammer in his point.

“But that’s the only way he agreed for once,” the older man admitted with a chuckle.

He zeroed in on Izuna when he too chuckled.

“And since when do you like trying out new things?” Madara accused his sibling.

“Excuse you! I try new things all the time and you would know that if you followed my social media accounts like you said you would!” the younger Uchiha answered scandalized with furrowed brows.

The older Uchiha groaned. Not this again.

“Is it too much to want some fun on this vacation?” Hashirama asked with one of his better renditions of a puppy look directed at him while Tobirama slinked off to sit down next to Mito on a bench not far from them.

Huffing, he shuffled his feet, looking around and tried to think of a way out of this.

Izuna would be his best bet of course. But if he had to share a room with Itama, things would probably get awkward pretty fast as they never had spent time on their own until now. However, Tobirama would be an even worse pick. Not because he had anything against the younger man but because of other things that he didn’t want to think about at the moment.

No, he wouldn’t play Hashirama’s stupid games this time. Why should he? Especially when his idiotic friend easily had taken himself out of the equation. Unfair. He was here to relax and enjoy himself.

Having decided against his best friend’s plea, he looked back to said friend only to freeze at the triumphant look on his face.

Oh no.

“What?”

“Have you forgotten? You owe me!” the idiot exclaimed with a wry grin.

Now it was his turn to furrow his eyebrows in incomprehension.

“You lost that bet at our last poker evening weeks ago,” the tan man replied giddily.

Madara’s eyes widened. He was right but he wouldn’t, would he?

“Are you seriously going to waste it on something like that? Hashirama, you wouldn’t, right?” he asked, rubbing his forehead to soothe his growing headache with a grimace.

He knew he was doomed, when three grinning faces met his.

“I absolutely would and I am henceforth officially claiming the favour you owe me!” the childish tree trunk of a man exclaimed laughing in glee, hands on his hips.

Suppressing another groan, Madara felt more sweat trickle down his back. Honestly, he could’ve done worse, he guessed. Hashirama could’ve used the favour to send him off to do much more horrible or embarrassing things. This was absolutely not ideal but whatever. What were the odds of him having to share a room with Tobirama, after all? Two to one against it, not bad at all. And he surely could make it work with Itama, too.

Being already fed up with the situation and the sun searing what felt like holes into his back, he decided that he didn’t care anymore as long as they could go inside soon. Preferably right this instant.

“Fine,” he conceded defeated, receiving surprised looks at his unusually short lived refusal and hooting from Hashirama.

“Alright, youngest first! There’s two short and two long ones,” the excited man exclaimed, holding out his hand with the sticks to Itama after he had shuffled them behind his back. “Don’t reveal them until everyone has a stick!”

When it finally was Madara’s turn, he didn’t have much choice but to accept the remaining stick as the oldest of the four.

“Reveal your sticks on the count of three! One, two, three!” Hashirama exclaimed excited.

Madara blanched when all of them unfurled their fists to showcase each of their picks. Had he seriously ended up with one of the short sticks? Wait, if the other two had the two long ones, that meant that Tobirama and he—

Hashirama clapped him on the shoulder with a huff of laughter.

“Looks like you and Tobi share a room!”

“Wha—”

“Okay, now I need those back and the winner team picks one of two to decide who the winner of the room with the two single beds is,” the older Senju exclaimed.

When Itama picked the longer stick, Madara despaired internally.

How could his luck be this bad? Had he seriously just lost two times in a row? Also wasn’t the looser supposed to get to pick first and—

Wait.

Oh no.

His eyes widened and he paled even more when suddenly the realization hit him that he had to share a double bed with his cru- Tobirama for the upcoming two weeks here.

He was doomed.

Suddenly he didn’t even feel warm anymore.

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

Text

Even In Different Lives, We Always Find Each Other PT. 6

A Connor Kenway x Reader AU Story

Word Count: 2,200 Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Death and Violence

Author’s Note: Sorry these two parts took so long! I was having a wee bit of trouble making part seven! Enjoy! -Thorne

She watched him crawl along the ground, bloodied gasps escaping him as he tried to flee. Humming, she walked to his side, using the force of her leg to roll him onto his stomach. He went easily, crying with pain as her foot nudged obviously broken ribs. She cocked her head to the side quipping, “I figured you’d have more fight in you, but you don’t, do you?” The hood shielded his vision, but he moaned,

“Do not do this.” A huff escaped her, and she bent down, catching his eyes under the dirtied hood.

“Do what? My job?” Honeyed eyes bored into hers, silent pleas swimming within as he repeated,

“Do not do this. This is not you.” With a burning conviction, she leaned forward, hissing,

“You don’t know a single thing about me.” His face pinched with pain, but the one emotion that showed more than pain was the heart-wrenching devotion he still carried.

“This is not who you are tiakení:teron. You are not what he made you.” She couldn’t help the chuckle and she bent forward, placing her palm to the center of his chest.

“No, Ratonhnhaké:ton, I am what he made me.” Before he could beg, she flexed her wrist, and with a silent gasp, the hidden blade embedded itself in his body. “I am my father’s daughter.” His vision began to blur, and she watched his fingers twitch in her direction as he slurred her name.

“…(Y/N)…” Instantly, the world around her began to shift and she looked up, trying to understand. She looked back down and to her surprise, the bloodied assassin had vanished. It sent her to her feet, backpedaling as fast as she could. She kept moving backwards when suddenly the floor was falling beneath her. A scream tore through her as she fell, and she heard him call her name again. “(Y/N).” This time, it was louder, closer, and she shut her eyes, hands curling around her ears to shut it out. It was too loud. Too much. Too-

“(Y/N)!” Her eyes snapped open and she lurched forward, hand gripping in someone’s coat, the other reaching for the letter opener on the desk. She was riding on pure fight or flight, and all her mind was screaming to her was fight. Her fingers curled around the handle and with a quick flick of her wrist she pushed all her force into a strike aimed for their stomach. A hand curled around her wrist, tight and borderline painful as they commanded, “Drop it! Drop the paperknife!” She persisted, trying to yank back her arm when they repeated, “Damnit (Y/N), it’s me! Drop it!” As if her eyes had finally cleared the haze, she focused on her father in front of her. A sharp intake breath and the silver letter opener hit the ground, apologies flooding the captain’s cabin.

“Oh god, I-I’m sorry!” Shay stared at her, but he didn’t relax his grip.

“Are you okay now?” (Y/N) shut her mouth, nodding her head. “I’m going to let go.” He let go of her wrist and she took a few steps backwards, collapsing into the captain’s chair, breathing heavily. He watched as she ran her hands down her face, eyes still wide with distress before kneeling, catching them. “(Y/N), deep breaths. Relax.” She swallowed thickly and shut her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose before exhaling. After a few calming breaths, she opened her eyes and looked at him. “Better?” She nodded, murmuring,

“Yeah…much.” Shay took his own deep breath before shifting, resting his back against the desk as he sat on the floor, muttering,

“Christ (Y/N), you’re trying to kill me.” Her face contorted with a grimace and she replied,

“Sorry.” He waved it off, reaching up to run his hand through his hair.

“It’s alright…we all have nightmares like that.” (Y/N)’s brows furrowed, and she asked,

“How’d you know I was having a nightmare?” Shay met her gaze, a knowing look in his eye as he said,

“I know a waking nightmare when I see one. Besides, you were screaming in your sleep.” She bit the inside of her cheek and he questioned, “Are you okay?” She reached up, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes, saying,

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot for the past couple days.” (Y/N) lowered her hand, staring at the little scars that lined it.

“…Yeah…I guess I have been.”

“Fine is what we say when we’re trying to hide the pain (Y/N). I know you were in real trouble yesterday, but I feel like something else is bothering you.” Before she could stop it, tears were welling in her vision, heart aching as she thought about Connor. Her dream, no her nightmare, it felt so real, so vivid. She looked at her hands through blurred eyes, imagining the blood that had stained them, and she quickly curled them into fists, ignoring the bite of her nails into the skin of her palm. Shay reached over, gently uncurling them, comforting, “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” (Y/N) shook her head.

“Nothing…I’m alright.” Though she said so, the tears ran down her cheeks, and he fretted,

“Oh no, that’s not gonna fool me.” He moved his hands, cupping her cheeks, thumbs softly brushing away the tears. “Sweetheart, what is it?” She pursed her lips as she looked at him, then asked,

“Can we get off the ship? I need to be on land. I need to be somewhere where I can move.”

“Are you not comfortable here?” She shook her head and after a moment, he sighed, pulling his hands away. “Alright then…we’ll go to the manor here in Boston.” Shay stood, offering her a hand, which she took, letting him pull her up. “Gather your things and we’ll go now.” (Y/N) fell into a silence as she moved, gathering what little of her things she had, mainly her weapons. When she was ready, she looked at him and nodded, following as they exited the captain’s cabin. A man stood at the helm, Christopher Gist as she’d been reintroduced too, but looked down when he saw them coming.

“Ah, Shay, Miss (Y/N). Where are you headed this late?” She offered Gist a polite smile, allowing her father to do the talking.

“(Y/N) said she’d like to stay at the manor until this blows over.” The first mate nodded with understanding, taking her hand in his. He gave it a pat and said,

“I do apologize that you’ve been wrapped up in a mess like this Miss (Y/N). If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” She smiled again and nodded, thanking,

“I appreciate your offer Mister Gist. Perhaps one day I’ll call it in.” He grinned and let her go, watching as they walked off. They slipped in and out of backstreets, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but marvel at the redcoats marching by. “There’s so many soldiers here in Boston.” Shay hummed as he led.

“A good portion of the army returned to England, but even then, there’s still a great deal remaining.” The exited onto a street and as curiosity got the better of her, she asked,

“What happened to the patriot army? After the war, that is?” He glanced back at her as they walked, answering,

“A few of the leaders were executed for war crimes but the remaining soldiers were allowed to go home to their families.”

“Which leaders were executed?” He turned back around, nodding at a man passing them.

“Only the major ones. Washington, Duportail, Greene, Barry, and a few others.” (Y/N) frowned at the mention of the men she’d fought by, muttering,

“Seems like a waste to execute military leaders who have decent knowledge of it.”

“But then-” She huffed, adding,

“But then there’s a chance for another rebellion, yes, I’m aware of that as well.” Shay let out a chuckle and as they turned the corner, a manor came into view.

“Well look at you. It seems you’re remembering things now.” (Y/N) stopped in her tracks, eyes scanning over the building. “Is something wrong?” She felt her face pinch as she griped,

“I was hoping for small and secure, not giant and ostentatious.” He grinned and tipped his head to the doors.

“Most secure building we have in Boston (Y/N).” She couldn’t help but counter,

“We’ll see.” Shay rolled his eyes, waving her to keep moving. “How many people are inside?” She questioned, searching the windows for workers.

“Since this is our manor, it’s just us and the staff.” She grunted in response, though she was glad there weren’t going to be a large group of people. “Though I assume many of the others are still here from the dinner party.” Suddenly, she wasn’t feeling relieved anymore.

“Didn’t think to tell me that before we left?” He hummed in response, sticking the key in the door.

“Me and the high ranking templars in Boston got together to talk about the events of the past couple days and what’s going on with you.” The lock clicked and he opened the door before turning to her but frowned as he caught sight of her glare. “What?” (Y/N) waved a hand, bickering,

“You didn’t think it an invasion of my privacy to tell them that?” In an instance, she knew she’d said the wrong thing because his face darkened and she knew she was no longer talking to her father, but her boss, the Grandmaster; he took a step towards her, voice sharp like a sword as he seethed,

“Considering the fact that you disobeyed my direct orders, got a member of our organization killed, and setback months of planning? No. No, I didn’t think it an invasion. You made a mess of the plans we had and now we’re having to backtrack and set up new ones.” He pointed to the inside of the manor. “Now get inside the house (Y/N).” The last time a man had spoken to her then ordered her around in such a way, she coldcocked them in a blind fury. Rage roared through her veins, but now wasn’t the time and she lowered her head to avoid his angered gaze and hurried inside. The entry hall led to an opening in the dining room which had her greeting a room full of armed templars. Her heart hammered in her chest as she wondered if she should pull her flintlock and fight or turn tail and run when someone clapped her on the shoulder, knocking her from her trance. Looking over, she was met by a smiling older man.

“(Y/N)! Welcome back!” He shook her hand and after getting a good look at him, she replied,

“Thank you, Major General Pitcairn. I owe you-” Letting go of her hand, he waved her off.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ve saved my ass more times than I count. This was just me repaying the favor.” (Y/N) tipped her head politely.

“If that’s how you feel Major General Pitcairn.”

“You can call me John, (Y/N).”

“Thank you, John.” He took a moment to look her over before her father stepped into the room.

“Your father told us about your memories.” Casting an inconspicuous glare to her father, she sweetly said,

“So I’ve heard.” John nodded at the two of them before assuring,

“We’ll do what we can to make things easy for you. We know-” Tired of being treated like a child, and more certainly, tired of being a templar, something inside her snapped. She needed to get away from this and she needed to hurry with it.

“No,” she cut him off firmly, causing the other templars at the table to glance their way. (Y/N) turned to them, addressing, “I won’t hide behind comforts. I’ll own up to my mistakes. I fucked up. I disobeyed orders and I messed up what we’ve been planning.” They stayed silent, but their gazes told her they agreed. “I’ve read the reports, I know what happened. We’ve secured Boston, but with Benedict dead and the assassins claiming his assets, it gives them a leg to stand on.” She looked back at her father, who seemed impressed and she declared, “Starting tomorrow I’ll be out on the streets patrolling to see what information I can turn up and get us back on track.” (Y/N) cleared her throat, ending with, “On that note, I think I’ll turn in for the night.” Shay tipped his head back to the staircase that was near the entrance.

“Third door on the left.” She nodded before looking at the others.

“Goodnight gentlemen.” She passed her father as she went, but she spared him no glance, still simmering with irritation from their spat moments before. She could hear them talking as she left, climbing the stairs to her bedroom. When she got there, she shut the door behind her and locked it, immediately moving to the window. It pried open easy enough and she shimmied out of it, climbing down the wall. The night had given her perfect cover and she slipped past the evening patrol, sliding under the iron gate. As she ran, she spared one last glance to the manor, then turned back around, muttering, “I’m on my way Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

#connor kenway imagine #connor kenway imagines #connor kenway x reader #connor kenway x reader imagines #connor kenway x reader imagine #connor kenway #Ratonhnhaké:ton #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines #assassins creed fanfiction #assassins creed 3 #ac3 #haytham kenway #ziio #shay cormac

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bella-spil · 4 years ago

Text

2 Romeos & 1 Juliet- Part 6

Part 6. Fem reader. Bucky, loki, Steve, Tony, Thor.

Warnings: Reader is only in the story in the beginning. The rest, the reader is gone. Cursing, confusion(make sure you read carefully)

Word Count: 3.8k

Taglist: (plz join, I Love when you guys want to read my stories. Also, feedback helps and let me know you enjoy the story) @angrythingstarlight @kmuir1 @sea040561 @wednesday-add-em (also credit for this series idea goes to @kmuir1)

A/N: this is the second to last part of this series. Make sure you know the rest of the story before jumping into this one. I don’t want you to get confused and not know what’s going on. Also if it isn’t confusing, maybe it’s just me. But enough chit chat. Enjoy!

“HEY! GET OFF OF HER!”

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

Suddenly, the door burst open. You were lying on the bed, not sure exactly what was happening or who was in the room, but suddenly, Bucky was ripped off of you.

Then a different face hovered over yours, one that was familiar. Steve Rogers was trying to get you to snap out of whatever daze you were in, except you were drugged. Your mind was clouded by a strange haze, a fog that blocked you from doing anything. Your body felt like silly putty, unable to do anything on it’s own without some help.

“Thor! Bring her to the medical wing, and tell Natasha to watch her. Then come back immediately.” Steve ordered. Steve helped lean you over the bed, and Thor lifted you bridal style to the medical wing.

Bucky was so close, but Tony appeared out of thin air and tore him off of you. Tony slammed Bucky to the wall, making sure he wouldn’t leave his sights.

“Barnes?” Tony asked, confused. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., make sure Barnes doesn’t leave this room.”

“Understood, boss,” the A.I. responded.

“Bucky, what the fuck were you thinking?” Steve asked once you left the room with Thor.

“Why the Hell do you think you can just barge into the fucking room, punk?” Bucky answered back.

“Because we can,” Tony responded. “And there were cameras that were watching your every move. The little A.I. in the house, yeah, she notified me that someone was attempting to rape Y/N. So me and Capsicle were going to stop her.”

“Bucky why would you try to rape her?” Steve asked. “I’ve known you forever and with all the other girls, you’ve never even thought of drugging her.”

“That’s because she isn’t like other girls,” Bucky answered, licking his lips. “She was going to be mine. Once and for all.”

As soon as those last four words left his mouth, Steve sucker-punched Bucky dead in the face. Blood started dripping all over Bucky’s face, and on Steve’s knuckles. Bucky didn’t even try to fight back. Instead, he just hissed like a snake at the sudden blow to the face. Bucky’s hair was spread all over his face. The blood was dripping steadily from his face to his shirt, and down to the floor.

Tony was standing there, pointing his hand, which had on part of his suit, at Barnes, making sure he wouldn’t try to escape.

“Alright, enough chit chat. Let’s talk.” Steve started.

“What drug?” Tony asked.

“Rohypnol,” Bucky answered calmly, careful to not give too much info.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., what’s that drug Bucky just said?” Steve asked.

“Of course, Mr. Rogers,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. began. “The drug that Mr. Barnes listed was Rohypnol. Known in the streets as R-2, roofies or forget-me-pills. One of the top three rape drugs. Used to make the user sleepy, confused, and often forget what happened while they were on it. Kicks in 30 minutes after use and the user is in that state for more than a couple hours on end. It lowers defenses and makes it harder to move the body to escape.”

“Where did you get the drug?” Tony asked, blaster still pointed to Bucky.

“Here,” Bucky smirked, licking his lips again to get the blood off his mouth.

“What? That's impossible, how?” Tony said, confused.

“Of course. Bucky has the drug for medical purposes. To help him cope with his days in H.Y.D.R.A.” Steve realized.

“You son of a bitch!” Tony shouted, landing another punch at Bucky. This time it was right in the gut. Bucky collapsed to the floor, clutching to his stomach and whimpering in pain. He had to take a couple deep breaths to speak properly again.

“Ya know, without your little robot, and your stupid cameras, you wouldn’t be here right now.” Bucky said, grinning at Avengers standing in front of him. “I would have won.”

“I thought she was your friend,” Steve said, shocked at the sudden change of behavior in his longtime friend.

“She was my mission,” Bucky said with zero remorse.

“Who was your mission?”

Bucky was standing outside of the room, his hair messed up and his eyes were tired, with tiny, almost invisible bags. But Bucky was also in the room, bloody and talking. Two Bucky’s.

Steve and Tony looked at each other in disbelief. They had no clue what to believe. Suddenly Bucky was about to rape his crush and now another Bucky was standing outside the room. Their worlds were spinning. Their eyes were flashing back and forth between the two of them. Making sure that this was real and not some monitor. But it was real alright, and everyone could see it.

“What the hell?” Tony said.

“Get in here.” Steve ordered the Bucky outside the room.

That Bucky looked confused, seeing himself on the floor all bloody. He had no clue what was going on, since he was out for the whole day. It was like seeing the Winter Soldier in a completely different body. Seeing himself as the monster the rest of the world saw him as. Now he knew what fear was. He could see the monster through his own eyes, not through a reflection. The bloody, cold hearted assassin. The Winter Soldier.

He had also never heard Steve talk to him with such authority, like Steve had no clue who he was. It was like a nightmare, his friend for life treating him like a criminal. Even though he was already, Steve believed in him. But now, it was the complete opposite.

“Lean on the wall,” Tony ordered and two Buckys were standing next to each other.

Looking at each other like they saw Satan himself. They looked exactly alike, so much so that it was scary. The only differences were the blood, clothes and how the bloody Bucky shaved, having no hair on his face. The other Bucky had a little stubble, and he looked a little less messy.

Then Thor walked back into the room. He looked at the situation and he had to do a double take at the events. Two Buckys were standing in front of him, along with a confused Steve and a distraught Tony.

“What in Odin’s beard is going on?” Thor asked, just as lost as Steve.

“We were interrogating the bloody Bucky and then another Bucky walked into the room.” Steve explained, running his hands through his hair.

“Ok,” Tony began, turning his attention to the lookalikes. “The Bucky that just walked in the room, yeah you, you’re Bucky #1. Bloody Bucky, you’re Bucky #2.” The Buckys nodded and just waited silently.

“Thor, watch them while me and Cap come up with a game plan. If they do something, strike them.” Tony ordered.

“Good,” Thor said. “Just as long as we’re all in agreement.”

He lifted up his hands and suddenly, Stormbreaker and Mjolnir were transported right into his fingertips. His eyes were glowing and his outfit changed from sweats to his battle outfit. He stared at the two Bucky’s with such intensity that Bucky #1 gulped.

“I don’t like it,” Steve said, turning his back from Thor and huddling with Tony.

“Why? Bloody Mary giving up so easily?” Tony asked.

“I don’t remember it being this easy. Bucky can pack a wallop,” Steve said.

“Well, you might have missed a couple things, doing time as a Capsicle,” Tony countered.

“Yeah I know, I know. What we should be discussing is what to do.” Steve said.

“Well, you know Bucky the best, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, let’s test that knowledge,”

“Which means?”

“I mean ask the Bucky’s questions that only the real Bucky would know. That will help give us a clearer shot of who is who.” Tony cleared.

“Understood,” Steve nodded back.

Then the two Avengers turned back around to see Thor watching the two Bucky’s very closely. So far, they haven’t made any attempt to get out of the room.

“Alright. Since we don’t know whose who, I am going to ask some questions. The real Bucky would know the answer to all of these. If you get one or more wrong, well, let's say Fury will have a ball with you.” Steve said.

“First question is for Bucky #2. After the Sokovia Accords, how many years did you go back under for?” Steve asked.

“2 years,” Bucky #2 answered without hesitation.

“Bucky #1,” Steve started. “What military group did you serve in and what was your ranking?”

Bucky #1 smiled, the thought of all his old memories reminding him of some of the best moments in his life. Before he answered, he cleared his throat and lifted his chin just a little.

“The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes.” Bucky said, reliving his memory.

Steve grinned just a little, not to make it look like he already knew who was the real Bucky. Just to enjoy his past.

“Bucky #2, how many Avengers and/or people involved with S.H.I.E.L.D. have you harmed or killed?” Steve asked.

Bucky #2 had to think for a moment, thinking of all the people he has to remember. There’s so many, so many innocent people, so many. And a little amount of criminals.

“I shot Natasha. Killed Tony’s parents. I know I killed JFK, but I don’t know the exact number of all the others. H.Y.D.R.A. wiped my mind so many times so I can’t remember a number, but I remember all of them.” he answered.

The room got quiet for a minute, since the answer was very dark. But once Tony cleared his voice for Steve to start again, then it got back to being serious.

“Bucky #1, in WWII, you saved my life. How?” Steve asked.

“Well,” Bucky #1 began. “We were going into a H.Y.D.R.A. base to take down the building, soldiers and whatever else. You were walking to the building while I was waiting in the bushes. While you were walking, you didn’t see a soldier in a window or something, so you almost were killed. But luckily, I was able to kill him before I lost you.”

“Bucky #2, last question. What was my mom’s name?” Steve asked.

Bucky #2 froze for a moment or so. He had almost forgotten completely. Steve and him never really talked about his mom, only in the 40’s, so it made it harder to remember. But, a lightbulb went off, and he knew it now.

“Your mom’s name is Sarah,” Bucky answered, his voice a little bit raspy.

Steve knew that only a few people knew his mom's name, including Bucky. So hearing that Bucky knew was a clear indication that Bucky #2 was the Bucky that saved his ass multiple times.

“Bucky #1, last question. When my mom died, what did you say to me?” Steve asked, hoping he would get an answer.

Bucky #1 knew the answer by heart. This was one of his most prominent memories. This was how he was able to become the old Bucky. This was how he was able to snap out of the Winter Soldier, and how he saved Steve’s life once again.

“When your mom died, you didn’t go to the funeral,” Bucky #1 began. “You were just happy that she was next to your dad. I tried to offer you to live at my place, said you could if you shined my shoes and took out the trash. But being you, you refused, saying you could get by on your own. But you nearly forgot your keys to your apartment. I told you that you didn’t have to get by on your own. I put my hand on your shoulder and told you that I was with you till the end of the line. And I still am. I’m with you till the end of the line, pal.”

Steve never heard Bucky express his feelings this much, so now, he was torn.

His mind was telling him Bucky #2, the one drugged and that almost raped his friend, the one that was bloody all over the floor, the one that knew his mom’s name. His mind was telling him that this was the real Bucky, the one he spent WWII with.

But his heart was telling him a different story. It was telling him Bucky #1 was the real, true Bucky. The one that served with him, the one that saved his life, the one that was with him till the end of the line.

He knew Bucky never really expressed his emotions but while answering the final question, Bucky poured his heart out to let Steve know that it was really him. Even on one of the other questions, Bucky chuckled a little bit, something that Bucky rarely did. His heart was telling him that this was the Bucky that he spent his life with.

Steve was lost, conflicted, confused. Should he believe the Bucky who stumbled in here only a little while ago or the one that almost raped his friend?

“Tony, I don’t know,” Steve confessed.

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know?’” Tony snapped back.

“They both answered all the questions correctly, and my mind and my heart are telling me two different things,” Steve answered.

“Ok, Stark, why don’t you ask them a question?” Thor offered.

“Good idea, Point Break,” Tony agreed, and he cleared his throat before asking the question that would answer everyone’s questions.

“After the Airport Battle in Berlin, Steve and Bucky headed to the H.Y.D.R.A. base to find Zemo and to stop him from awakening the other Winter Soldiers. And I followed them, to tell Steve that I was wrong. But Bucky,” he paused, looking both Bucky’s dead in the eye. “Bucky did something that put me off guard. And to snap him out of it, I called him something. What was it?”

Both Bucky’s stopped to think for a moment. They were deep in thought, racking through their memories as if it was a library. Bucky #1 was still thinking while Bucky #2 sighed and just gave up.

“What did you call me?” Bucky #2 asked. “How the hell would I remember that? That’s such a stupid thing to ask.”

“Manchurian Candidate.” Bucky answered. “You called me Manchurian Candidate since I didn’t lower my weapon.”

Then Bucky #2’s eyes widened. He was shocked that the other one knew. And suddenly, all the eyes in the room were on him.

“That’s not Bucky,” Steve said.

“No shit,” Bucky #1 said.

“Speaking of,” Tony said. “Where is Loki?”

Everyone in the room stood like statues, trying to retrace the last time they saw Loki that day, but came up empty handed. But Thor looked like he saw a ghost. It all came together like a puzzle for him. Everything fit. Once he realized, he pinned Bucky #2 to the wall, pressing Mjolnir up to his chest.

“Thor, what are you doing?” Steve panicked.

“You’re really gonna make me do this?” Thor asked Bucky #2, whispering so Bucky #2 would only hear.

“Do what?” Bucky #2 asked.

Then Thor’s eyes started to glow and lightning was surging through his body. He was going to strike him. Thor pressed the hammer harder and harder into Bucky #2’s chest, causing him to yell in pain.

“I’ll see you on the other side, brother,” Thor whispered, getting ready to strike the life outta Bucky #2.

The power was starting to grow stronger and stronger, to the point where Bucky #2 had to surrender.

“Alright! I yield!” he shouted, moving out of the way so he wouldn’t get hit. But he wasn’t the same person he was before. He changed, dramatically.

It was Loki.

The whole time.

Loki tried to rape you. To claim you, to own you, to make you his. Once and for all.

“Surprise,” Loki grinned, cheesily.

The room was full of silence and rage and disbelief. Steve’s mouth dropped to the floor. Tony was frozen. Thor was standing in front of the God of Mischief with anger written all over his face.

Bucky was clenching his left fist. Rage, fury, and everything like that was surging through his body, fueling his veins and his muscles like oil. He was ready to rev up like a car and deliver a blow to knock Loki out. He was about to punch the life out of Loki, but Steve and Tony were holding him back.

“Bucky stop! He’s not worth it!” Steve shouted, and Bucky finally resisted the urge to smack some sense into Loki.

“Can I punch him after you're done talking to him?” Bucky asked.

“Sure,” Tony said. “Now start from the beginning.”

Loki took a deep breath before starting.

“Everything was fine without you, Bucky,” Loki started. “Without you in the picture, Y/N would have been mine. My queen.”

“Yet she didn’t kiss you,” Bucky muttered.

“My plan was to get Bucky out of the picture first,” Loki said.

“So that’s why I was feeling so shitty today,” Bucky realised. “What the Hell did you give me?”

“Same thing, roofies,” Loki admitted.

“Where did you get them from?” Thor asked.

“Bucky. I stole them,” Loki said.

“Continue Reindeer Games,” Tony said.

“I thought if I could make Y/N believe that Barnes was a true villain, then she would be in the palm of my hand. If I could make Bucky do something that would hurt her in unexplainable ways, I would win. So, if I was able to transform into Bucky, while she believed he was sick, I could make her mine.

“I was going to take her somewhere that Bucky would, for example that weird diner. At the diner, while she was in the bathroom, I snuck a roofie in her glass. She drank more than enough to get the job done. But the drug takes 30 minutes to kick in, so I stalled for some time and right as we pulled in the driveway, she was done for. I helped her to my room, and I undressed her. Then I undressed and I was on top of her, but then you barged in and ruined my plan.” Loki said.

Everyone was appalled by his confession, Bucky more so than anyone. He was appalled that someone could go to such extreme levels to do something that chaotic to someone. It was worse than H.Y.D.R.A. and that was saying something.

“How did you know the answers? How did you know my mom’s name?” Steve asked.

“Truth be told, I didn’t. I just took a wild guess,” Loki chuckled.

“If you loved her, you wouldn’t hurt her,” Bucky said.

He was getting emotional. The thought of someone hurting you, raping you, was bringing tears to his eyes. He loved you with all his heart, and he couldn’t let someone do those things to you.

“If you loved her, you would tell her you love her. You wouldn’t force her to love you. You wouldn’t force her to be something she isn’t. Hell, you wouldn’t put a relationship, my relationship with her, in danger. I was one of the first people to meet her. I have known her longer than you. I know she would kill you right now if she wasn’t drugged.” Bucky said.

“I’m the God of Mischief. I show my love through actions, not words,” Loki smirked. “Besides, aren’t we all sinners?”

Bucky was about to go kick Loki, but Steve held him back again. But Bucky was too hurt, too angry, to let Captain America stop him. He shoved Steve off of him like he was a doll and he proceeded to Loki. Tony tried blasting Bucky, but with his new vibranium arm, he was invincible to a little blast, even though Tony promised him he could hit Loki. He was able to throw Tony across the room, as if Tony was a pebble. But then Thor stood in his way, blocking him from his target.

“James,” Thor started, but Bucky wasn’t hearing any of it. Bucky just walked past Thor.

Thor wanted to stop Bucky, but he was in this spot before. Seeing so many people die, that he cared about, put some perspective in him. On one hand, Thor knew stopping Bucky was the right thing to do. After all, Loki was his brother. But on the other hand, Thor knew he would beat up Loki to a pulp if he was in Bucky’s position. Loki deserved to be in Hell with Hela for his actions. So, he let Bucky proceed.

“THOR! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP HIM!!” Steve shouted.

“No,” Thor said.

Bucky was standing right in front of Loki, looking at the God with such hatred.

“You’re my mission,” Bucky said, before blowing Loki dead in the face.

Bucky kept hitting Loki like he was a punching bag. Bucky punched him in the face, the chest, the stomach, anywhere he possibly could. Hitting Loki was getting all the rage, frustration and sadness out of the Winter Soldier. Blow after blow, Loki's head kept bouncing back and forth. But Bucky kept swinging. Blow after blow, Bucky could feel the tears running down his face. The emotions were pouring out of him, uncontrollably. He was letting the tears run down his face and on Loki, and he delivered one, final, head crushing punch in the face.

With that punch, Loki was all bloody, even worse than before. He had two black eyes, bruises, scrapes, cuts, anything you could imagine, it was there. Blood was rolling from the top of his head to his chest. His eyes were closed, but he was still breathing.

Bucky got off of Loki and started to cry into Steve’s shoulder. Steve was taken aback. Bucky had never done this before. So when he did, Steve felt like he was getting a bit of the old Bucky back. After a few minutes Bucky calmed down, wiping the tears off of his face, and standing stronger than he was before.

“Tony, you and Thor take Loki to Fury. Fury will have a field day with him,” Steve ordered.

Tony gave Steve a little salute and Thor nodded before obeying his orders. Tony carried the God’s legs while Thor took his back, and they carried him out of the room, not being careful. Bucky and Steve could hear the two of them purposefully bumping Loki into furniture.

“Can I see her?” Bucky asked, hopefully.

“If you go now, she will still be out,” Steve reasoned.

“I need to see her, awake or not,” Bucky pleaded.

“Ok, just let me know when she is awake. You know, she might not be able to remember what happened tonight, so if you want to explain it to her, go ahead, but you always know where to find me,” Steve said, giving Bucky a pat on the back before following Tony and Thor.

As soon as Steve left, Bucky ran to the medical wing. He had to see you, make sure you were ok. He had to explain what happened. He had to tell you he loved you. He had to make you his.

Once and for all.

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exobyharu · 5 years ago

Text

PCY - One Shot

Image source to follow. I just Googled it like this

“Yeah, look, listen, are you uh…”

Summary: A flustered PCY? It was a close call. He was definitely going to tell Baekhyun about his minor fuck up. He may need more than “just make sure you smell good” from him. He got what he came for, though. You can’t say it was a bad idea either.

⏰ 2:10 PM 🌏 7-11, near Chanyeol’s imaginary radio station ☁️ Just immediately after a heavy thunderstorm 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Byun Baekhyun

Notes: Another one shot because I’m busy for the holidays. :( First person: It’s my first time! Next update will be on the series. Happy Holidays!

Words: ~1,700

💙💙💙

I just want to be in a proper relationship and stay in it. Instead, the only eligible guy within my social circle is my childhood’s worst nightmare, Byun Baekhyun. I know that I seem way too ungrateful, seeing that countless women would kill to be in my place, but if they had only grown up with the guy, they would know that it would be almost impossible to see him more than a pesky little brother.

Trust me. I tried.

I could barely get the facts straight in my head: He’s actually older than me – even though he behaves way too much like a stubbornly mental teenager and five hyperactive puppies, all combined in one body.

My life was set. Until last night, my life is going to be with this guy I’ve been in a relationship with for the past five years. At least until I discover that he had been cheating for at least half of it, because I turn out to be too boring (his words) for his fun-loving, go-getting ways.

I was told and it explains why I suddenly – and oh so desperately – want to try something crazy to change that. By my albeit too boring standards, a slow drive down the outskirts of the city in the middle of an afternoon thunderstorm seems like the perfect kind of reckless to me.

There isn’t even alcohol in the picture. Just me, my father’s hand-me-down-SUV-slash-motherwagon, and a bag of chips and soda on the passenger’s seat. The plan is to get moving, reach the shore in a couple of hours and make it back before it gets dark. I will bring my journal with me, binge on junk, and stare out into the sea with the liftgate as the roof over my head and hopefully a stray dog for company.

So yeah.

I am boring.

I leave three text messages anyway, for those in my Top Three Most Important People In My Life list, who have recently ascended up the ranks by default, simply because the Love Of My Life TM, is no longer in it.

I’ll be out. Be back my midnight, I tell my sister.

Borrowing the car. I’ll be safe. Driving over to Baekhyun’s, I tell my dad.

And of course, for my one and only best friend: Let’s go SuperM! Dear leader, told dad I’m driving to your place. Please don’t kill me. I just need to be at my usual spot. I’ll be safe. I promise. Enjoy your tour!

And after a couple of hours preparing and getting my shit together, my eyes are finally dry enough from all the crying. I have my favourite rain jacket on, just in case, and my journal. With my last ritual stop being the nearby convenience store, I know that I will be well on my way to the beach in a few minutes.

It’s a little funny how the thunderstorm has cleared, right when I finally decide to leave the house and head out of the driveway. So much for being reckless. Still, the skies are adequately grey, perfectly sympathising with my sentiments.

Also, why do they play sappy love songs on the radio at this hour?

I leave the radio on anyway, telling myself that I have to get used to this whole self-partnered concept. Well, for the record, it’s been about six hours into this and all I can say is that it sucks. I miss my stupid, good for nothing, ex. That’s normal, right?

Biting my lower lip, I pull up at the parking space, making sure that my brokenness and frustrations do not reach my eyes once again. Thinking of nothing but the tantalising image of the bag of Lays that I am to devour in a couple of hours, I head straight into the store, the comforting sound of door chimes signalling my entrance. I grab an extra bottle of Mountain Dew just in case, as well as a Snickers bar. And a bag of m&m’s. And a can of Dr. Pepper. And another bag of cookies.

What?

Nobody will see, save for the kind lady by the counter. What’s there to be ashamed about? I am a brokenhearted girl. That means I deserve it. That, and I’m unstoppable.

In about ten minutes, the chimes sound once again, and I am out, running back to the car even before I grab more than what I can actually eat.

“Ya ya ya, slow down!”

The startled voice is too easily recognised. I whirl around, a giant bag of salt and carbohydrates in hand, and am faced by Park Chanyeol, frozen in place with an outstretched hand.

First of all, why am I not surprised? Second of all, I already know too well, what this conversation is going to be all about.

“What a weather to be up and about. Always a busy one, our YN.”

Right. The weather. What a perfect conversation starter. And did he just say our YN? A pout grows on my lips when he comes closer. This can’t be good.

“I could say the same and have you explaining to me, you know.”

“If it gets rid of this,” he says, and presses a light finger on the wrinkled skin between my brows, “then I will tell you that our radio show got cancelled because of the storm. The station’s just couple of blocks down this street.”

Too bad for him, I’m not easily convinced. “So you’re down here, actually buying something for yourself?”

“And I can’t?”

I close my eyes, unsure if engaging in our usual banter will help nurse my broken spirit. “Don’t you have personal assistants to get you stuff when you need them?”

His shrug makes me even more suspicious. “It’s rare to have the streets empty. You know we don’t get this chance whenever we want.”

Celebrities. Right. Sometimes, I forget. My mind travels back to the time when I went with Baekhyun and his brother to catch a movie on a Sunday night. That will never happen again.

“Look, I don’t want to be blunt or anything, but…” Chanyeol comes even closer – close enough for me to smell his perfume. He must have emptied a bottle over his head.

“But …what?” I watch him take a deep breath and pause. The movement of his lips is subtle, but I don’t miss it. It’s like he’s carefully choosing his words but he eventually gives up after a few tries. Now that’s a sigh.

“Were you crying,” he says instead.

Is this guy serious? It does not even sound like a question. “Are you asking because you’re not sure?”

“It’s just your eyes. The skin around it, actually. It’s bugging out, kind of. You cried a lot, didn’t you?”

Bugging out, huh? When I don’t answer, he gets it. I hope he does.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m stupid. Call me stupid.” Now he’s frantically raising both hands in front of me as if to defend himself. The heck. I’m not going to punch him or anything.

“Damn it. Forget I asked,” he says, when I stay quiet more out of confusion than anything else. It makes him look up into the sky, muttering something that sounds very much like goddammit said over and over. He does this while he rakes at his hair with both hands and it lasts too long to be a simple show of frustration.

What now? It makes me look up too.

Just clouds. Just nothing, really.

When I glance back at him, his eyes are now screwed shut. It takes a few seconds before he finishes his deep breaths and slowly stuffs both of his hands inside the front pockets of his jeans.

Jesus, Chanyeol, quit weirding me out.

“Um, hey?”

It’s like summoning his consciousness back to earth. “Yeah, look, listen, are you uh…” He purses his lips to the side, looking thoughtful and possibly, forcing that crooked smile. “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah, Look, listen, I am going somewhere.” I almost laugh when I answer. Look? Listen? What’s he being so nervous about? He doesn’t need to hide anything – they would not stand a chance. I know that Baekhyun sent him. Cut the shit. I’ll be fine. You can enjoy the rest of your day. Thank you very much.

I wave him off. “Stop pretending, Chanyeol. You know already.”

“Yah! You don’t understand, YN. I just want to know…” He looks at me sheepishly, if not stuttering. “Is there beer in that bag?”

The drink did not even make it to my Reckless Afternoon shopping list. It makes me shake my head and sigh. “What can I say? I’m a terminal case of boring.”

What I said makes Chanyeol’s eyes grow wide. “That’s loaded. Wanna talk about it?”

Nope. So I cross my arms, fake indifference, and change the topic. “Did Baekhyun send you? Cause if you’re here to stop me, that’s his job. Not yours.”

One side of his lips rise – a sign that a smile is starting to ease in. He gets it. That topic’s off limits and he goes along with it. “Baekhyun…” he starts, tilting his head in thought. “He said that you would be here, yes. But as for coming here, that’s on my own volition.”

I’m sure. I snort. “Obviously, you wouldn’t let him force you.”

“Obviously,” he says back. And then nothing else.

He just flashes a perfect smile and stares meaningfully into my eyes making my brain short circuit. I don’t know what he means. My eyes refuse to process such sensory input.

Stop this, Chanyeol. Stop this now.

“What I’m saying is that this is Baekhyun’s job,” I explain, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not your responsibility. So why don’t you go and do your musician stuff?”

“Hmm… YN, it’s like this…”

I just know that I’m fucked whenever Chanyeol switches gears and transforms into the argumentative version of himself. “If your best friend feels responsible for you, then I feel responsible for my best friend. The line of responsibility can extend as far as it can go. I can even send my mom over here to watch over you, if you won’t let me.”

By experience, I know that I could argue for an entire afternoon. However, also by experience, I know Chanyeol to be the type to argue until much later in the morning. Long conversation short, I’m stuck in a hopeless situation. “Baekhyun’s right. There’s no reasoning with you, sometimes.”

And it’s clear to him that he’s won. That grin is him, claiming his prize. “That’s because I’m bright, people say.”

“You can’t stop me though. My mind’s set.” It’s a promise.

“Don’t worry. I won’t do that.”

I blink. Then what’s this all about?

“Leave your car here”, he says. “I’m just here to take you there.”

And my best friend’s best friend never takes never for an answer. I’m not even surprised that Chanyeol knows the way to my favourite place. That is how I end up falling asleep, smelling his strong perfume, with the sound of the road flying beneath the wheels of his car.

💙💙💙 - end -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop scenarios #chanyeol scenario

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belost-the-watcher · 5 years ago

Text

Imperial Galra Army - Orbital Infantry Dissolution Hearing

Note: Please excuse the grainy footage and aging audio. Video preservation methods five thousand years ago were far more primitive than what they are now.

Brigadier General Aldren Bek lowered himself into a chair at the head of the hall. Various figures were gathered all around two tables on opposing sides. Yet despite the near twenty people on each side, they all seemed to resonate around two specific individuals.

“Alright, let’s get this started. Are we all here?” the General asked and looked between the two. An assistant nodded his head to him. “Okay then. It seems you are split on where the future of Orbital resides. Colonel Stomton and Colonel Tormare have been particularly vocal on the issue. I was supposed to have a single proposal for approval by now but you’re still arguing with one another on this. Now I want to make it clear, I am making my decision today on which direction Orbital should go or if it needs to be closed altogether. I have read your proposals but I would like to hear from each of you personally. Going by seniority, we’ll start with Colonel Mos Stomton.”

Attentions turned toward a massive galra, his face almost more scar than not. Power seemed to radiate from him simply from the act of standing up to speak. His voice echoed in the hallway in a deep boom.

“General. Orbital was created with the goal of rapid deployment of specialized Galra infantry. I have personally captured enemy fortifications with my troops well before our main force has even arrived. Across over one hundred campaigns I have utilized our drop pods for strategic shock and awe- something the Army is unwilling to do on its own. My men are experts at creating a fast, efficient, and unbeatable strike that no enemy has been able to fight back against.”

He paused, many of the other giant galra nodding behind him in a stern agreement.

“My proposal is for Orbital to specialize in the training and deployment of heavily armed shock troops within enemy lines. We will hit harder and faster than any other troop and continue to adapt our drop pods for more than simple orbit to surface delivery- but to be weapons in themselves. My team already has several designs prepared from anti-personnel pods to ship-to-ship breaching pods.”

The general perked an eyebrow. “Ship to ship? Do you have any of those designs with you?”

“I do.”

“Let me take a look at them.”

The colonel looked to one of the men beside him and nodded to him. He stood and walked an old datapad to the general’s table.

There was some time of silence before the Brigadier General put down the pad and spoke, “These are very impressive.” He looked to his assistant, “Make a copy of these for me.” He then turned back to Colonel Stomton, “I want to see about having some prototypes developed.”

He handed off the datapad to his assistant and then turned to the other side of the hall. “So we have Colonel Stomton’s shock troop proposal. Now I want to hear from Colonel Rezik Tormare.”

Stomton took a seat as the other galra stood. His figure was far less imposing but his gaunt face and glowing prosethetic eye made him the stuff of nightmares. He spoke in a smooth voice not unlike a conman but it had a sharpness to it that made it more like that of a serial killer.

“Orbital was born from Reconnaissance’ need to go where vehicles couldn’t. Paratroopers still needed planes that could be shot down. Drop pods couldn’t be targeted by anti-aircraft guns. Colonel Stomtom is correct in saying Orbital has been effective. And that effectiveness has driven our enemy to develop means to target our pods. Now that the Army has shifted doctrine for mass deployment of orbital deployment the issue is going to become worse. When our technology fails, we need to resort to traditional methods.”

He motioned to the men behind him. They all seemed to be cut from the same cloth. Something in the way they carried themselves- a look in their eyes that all showed the same brand of ‘not quite right.’

“I have overseen the distant deployment of our pods far behind enemy lines- farther than their weapons can cover. My men are the most adaptable in the Empire. They can survive on their own for months in any environment, gathering intelligence, sabotaging enemy supply lines, assassinating high value targets. The enemy has developed a means to target Colonel Stomtom’s drop pods. They’ll counter his new ones. The enemy cannot counter my men because they are a threat they don’t even know exists. Without my men in Orbital, Recon will have entirely lost its infantry-”

“Then why don’t you transfer back to Recon,” Stomtom shouted from across the hall much to the agreement of his side of the hall.

“Because Orbital will need to stay useful once your pods have been blown out of the sky.”

“Useful is what you call those skeletons that come back after eating grass for two months in the jungle?”

“More than your anti-personnel pods fragging their soldiers.”

“It was a- That was a test!” The massive colonel stood and physically pushed the desk out of his way, starting towards Colonel Tormare. “Somebody has to innovate to keep Orbital. And your solution is to go backwards!”

Tormare was already over the desk in a fluid motion, his stare as intense as ever as he squared up to Stomton, not even seeming to be phased by the difference in size. “My solution is precision. One squad turning a war. No matter how.”

The General rubbed his forehead and sighed. Sometimes he wished the Galra weren’t so hot headed, at least not this high up the ranks.

When everything was finally settled and the general was finished making his decision he looked up between the two sides of the room. The tables had been smashed, both sides were bleeding, and several members on both sides were now standing due to a sudden lack of chairs.

“I have my decision. Based on what I have heard and... seen... today I believe there is no longer a need for Orbital. Starting tomorrow, it will be disbanded and all members of Orbital will be transferred back to Recon.” The disappointment across the room was almost tangibly thick. “With a few exceptions. Having considered both proposals I do not think it would be wise to completely do away with some of the ideas I have heard. Colonel Stomtom. Your drop pod designs have impressed me and I believe there maybe a very real place in the Empire for the shock troops you have described. I am giving you command to oversee the training and development of your proposed shock troop program. Take the men you need and make it happen.”

The colonel nodded and snapped a salute to the general, “Thank you, sir.”

Then attentions were once again turned to Colonel Tormare. “As for yours... Colonel Stomtom did have a point. What is it about your proposal that necessitates it to be separate from Recon?”

Tormare was silent for a few moments as he considered his response. “As I said, General, Orbital was created to train specialized infantry who would have no need for Recon’s vehicular support. Orbital is- was- meant to create a versatile soldier who could go where mechanized infantry could not. My men have proven themselves as experts in adaptability, stealth, scouting, sabotage, and assassination. Recon is meant to support a main force. Colonel Stomtom’s shock troops are meant to win battles on their own. My men will win wars on their own and without the enemy ever knowing they were there.”

The general mulled it over in his head. “I see. Very well. Colonel Tormare, I am giving you the authority to oversee the development of your proposal as well. Take your men and train them as you need. We will reconvene one year from now to see if either proposal, or both, warrants the creation of a new school. Now unless there is anything else I believe we are done here.”

#drabble #orbital #trackers #raiders

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sadjediamira · 5 years ago

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Amira Meets Cal

Reposting this because it didn’t pop up on the tag :/

Holding Out for a Hero, Pt. 1

After playing through Jedi Fallen Order I created this Star Wars OC. This isn't her home timeline, but I just had to do an AU with Cal.

I hope you like it :)

Find it here as well!

Amira held three long strands of hair in her hands, crossing one over the other, again and again. She ties the braid reaching her hip, the black band contrasting against her bright ginger hair. She looked in the mirror, noticing the darker circles around her heterochromic eyes, one green and one blue. Her cheeks were covered in freckles, reaching up to her forehead.

She remembers a different time when she was proud of her appearance, but now she hid half of her face behind a mask whenever she left her private quarters, leaving only her eyes to be seen.

Her comm link suddenly comes to life, “Amira, we’re moving out.” A storm trooper informs.

“Right behind you.” She responds quietly, not paying much attention as she lifted her hood and hooked her saber to her belt.

She had been told earlier that day that her Inquisitor training was complete. After working for six years, her Master was finally happy with her skill set.

But she wasn’t. Wasn’t happy with her skill or happy with her life in general.

Everyday was a struggle. The bruises from training had only just started to yellow with new one being made almost every day.

Every night she cried herself to sleep. Her past and daily trauma came bubbling to the surface, fear then trapped her in nightmares, allowing little rest. It was almost too much...

But the darkness numbed it, provided her power, and the power made her forget. No pain meant she could fight freely, it made her lethal.

Amira rarely lost a battle.

Which is probably why the empire was set on her receiving an Inquisitor title.

“We’ve found one, Inquisitor.” A purge trooper commander approached her as she walked towards the hangar. He was excited about something.

She was thrown off by the new title, but she straightened proudly.

“Found what?”

“A Jedi.” The trooper rubbed his hands together.

Amira’s eyebrows raised. She’d only ever seen a Jedi, never fought against one. Though its what she’d been training for for years.

There was a sudden pain from her temple, she flinched, trying to push down the old memory that appeared.

“Is this the first time we’ve encountered this Jedi?” Amira asked cooly, an odd feeling settling in her stomach.

“No. What I’m hearing is that he is the one who escaped Lord Vader almost 5 years ago.”

She knew it, she remembers hearing about this, remembers being there.

A tall, lanky young man with fiery red hair ran past her cell that day shortly after she had arrived at the base, taking down ranks of troopers on his path.

Her training became unbearable after that. The shock therapy...the pain…

The trooper before her flinched away from the changed look on her face. Surprise turned to hatred and a red tinge clouded her vision.

“Take me to him,” Amira ordered.

“Well. We’ve...we’ve actually lost him, I-Inquisitor.” The trooper hesitated in fear, “He’s wiped out three of our four companies. We have an alleged location but-,”

“Take me there! Now.” Amira demanded. The floor and walls near her vibrated as the force emanating from her is amplified by her rage.

“Yes, Inquisitor.” The trooper turns a heel and nearly sprints back to the ship, Amira following.

She meditated while traveling, it helped her balance herself. Aided in turning her anger into power. Power that fueled her.

Her eyes snapped open as her ship came to a sudden halt, she took one last deep breath before securing her face mask and heading outside.

“Shall we accompany you on your search?” Her stormtrooper commander meekly asked as she descended the ramp onto the grassy field.

“No. Stay near the ship in case he decides to pay a visit.” Amira says curtly before making her way to the tree line.

After walking for some time she begins to sense an extra sensation in the force, an extra weight that only occured when other force users were near. She takes her lightsaber from her belt and carries it at the ready.

The path he took is visible in the thick greenery, broken branches and flattened grass aids her search.

She can feel his pull on the force, it’s both light and strong simultaneously, you didn’t need to see him fight to know he was skilled. It’s something she’s never experienced before, it lured her in.

The pull was suddenly growing stronger, he was getting closer. She turns to retreat up into a nearby tree but finds herself...stuck?

“And here I thought I was getting out of here without any complications. Should’ve known...” He let out a small chuckle behind her before letting his footsteps finally be heard.

Amira couldn’t move, frozen in time, vulnerable to any attack. Though his lightsaber was not on, she didn’t like her odds.

He cautiously approached on her left, he had on simple armor, his weapon hung on his belt and small droid on his back beeped cautiously, he chuckled, “It’s okay, BD.”

He had bright ginger hair like her own, freckles spotted across his cheeks above, what seemed like, a few day old beard. His gray-green eyes met hers before he spoke.

“What’s your name?” He asked, interested.

Amira thought for a brief moment before deciding that she would humor him, she wanted to find out what he was here for.

“Amira.” She attempted to gently break free of her frozen state, but met a strong counter-push from the Jedi. He knew she would try to break free, and he wasn’t letting her. “Yours?” She continued.

“Cal Kestis.” The Jedi responds easily, pausing before continuing. “Tell me Amira, why is the Empire just now sending Inquisitors after me. I’ve been expecting them to be around every corner since that fated day many moons ago, but here we are, just now meeting.” He leans up against a nearby tree, a smirk settling on his lips.

“You think I’m just going to tell you what the Empire’s been doing? Very funny, Cal.” Amira smiled under her mask.

“You must’ve just completed your training then. Congrats.” Cal nods approvingly, throwing the Inquisitor off for a moment. Why was he acting so casually?

Two could play the casual game, Amira decides, “You got me. Though I appreciate it, I don’t need your praise.”

Cal’s hands go up in defense, “Hey. I’m just trying to be nice. I’m sure after years of the continued physical, mental and psychological torture that the Empire calls ‘training’, forcing you to turn to the dark side just to survive, you could probably use a bit of a break.” He let loose a dazzling smile.

He knew about the training, he knew about her endless suffering, her pain in trade for power…she suddenly felt ashamed…

“You are going to let me go, Now.” Amira demands, ignoring him, trying out her mind manipulation.

“Oh, no no no.” Cal chides quickly at her attempt, “You still need some practice there. You tried, but it was hardly a poke.” He tapped his finger to his temple, smirking.

“Tell me, Amira,” genuine curiosity in his tone, “How is training under Darth Vader? I’ve only met him once but, whew, I would definitely pass on a dinner invite. He is terrifying…”

“What do you want, Jedi?!” Amira snaps, avoiding his questions. Her anger was growing, she did not feel like re-living the worst moments of her life right now.

“I want to help you.” He says quietly, approaching her. He meant it, she could read it in his eyes. Cal moved to place a hand on her shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut briefly at the contact.

The Inquisitor was stunned, “I don’t need your help.” Amira spits, venom in her voice. She finally manages to switch on her lightsaber but is still unable to move.

A look of surprise crosses his face at her action and he backs up slowly, “You are strong. I’ve seen your pain, I know your fears. I can feel what you’ve been through...”

Amira had had enough, this was getting ridiculous, “Let go of me!” She managed a strong push against the force keeping her frozen, falling forward some.

Disappointment fell on his face, sarcasm in his voice, “Well, since you asked so nicely…

In a split second Amira was free and Cal had activated his own lightsaber. Their weapons met once, sparks flying, before they’re both knocked back from the force of the attack. They quickly readied again, standing across from each other, waiting for the next strike.

“What are you doing here, Cal? What’s here for you?” Amira asked.

“I’d tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me.” The blue light of his saber illuminating his face, he was serious.

“Oh?” The Inquisitor laughed quietly, “Try me.”

He lowered his saber and Amira took her chance, closing the distance in an instant, but he stunned her yet again.

He turned off his saber as soon as her own stopped just inches from his throat.

Their eyes met and neither one of them moved, “What’re you-,” Amira began, confused.

“I came here to find you. I’m here to save you.”

#cal kestis #amira moross #star war oc #star wars jedi: fallen order #jedi fallen order au #jedi fallen order #my writing #my oc

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mohini-musing · 5 years ago

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Home and other Lies

Chasing Ghosts ‘verse

Operation Home is a figment of my imagination created for the story, but M22 is a very real and very amazing resource. Check them out here: https://www.mission22.com/#ourcause

“Thank you for your service.”

The words are pithy. Especially so written on a sign held by a stranger. He declines the offer to take it to the baggage claim where he’s to meet his latest charge. He’s heard them too many times, and even when they’re sincere, he feels they’re somehow tainted. Too many social media posts have cheapened the sentiment beyond restoration. Instead, he grabs a paper and writes the kid’s name and rank on it, deciding that’s all the identifier he needs for the job. He has no idea how he let anyone talk him into this except that he’s been out long enough now that he’s starting to feel like he should be able to offer help navigating the return to civilian existence for the men coming out of the sandbox now. So here he is, standing in an airport, waiting for a kid who probably did exactly what he did and shipped out to war because the alternative of living on his own at barely more than a child seemed worse.

Aged out. It’s a term the social services people use to label the kids who weren’t cute enough, who were too surly like him or too sharp like Tasha for anyone to want to keep forever. Enter the system much past toddlerhood and you’re not getting adopted. You’re going to bounce around until 18 comes and tosses you out on your ass.

He shakes his head to clear it. He’s not 18 anymore. Not even close. Eighteen was basic training, and identification as a sniper, training for things he doesn’t give words because he swore not to, and even if he hadn’t he’s not up for sharing them with a soul. He’s not a kid, yet the memories of being a terrified kid never quite leave him. He remembers coming back. Short half an arm and much of his sanity. It’s not been that long, but long enough.

Tasha would tell him it’s his savior complex acting up, and maybe it is. But he’ll keep doing this. He picks up the kids coming home to nothing, hauls them from the airport to whatever apartment has been procured for them. It started as a silly volunteer gig, but more and more it’s becoming something akin to a calling.

He hooked up with a representative from M22 at the firing range. He knows the statistics. Knows how many of the guys he served with aren’t walking the earth anymore, knows how many of them made it home but never quite found peace here. He doesn’t know if he has, exactly, but he has Steve, and Tasha, and he’s safe even when the desire to taste gun oil and metal overrides the will to take one more breath. He’s learned to push through punishing workouts when every part of him just wants to hide in the dark in bed until the world ends.

Reintegration contact is his official title. Facilitator of the procurement of living space, securing that space against self-harm tendencies without stripping away the ability to feel safe (yes, the two are different, no he can’t explain how), and ensuring that reaching out is easier that closing in. His phone rings at unfortunate hours, but it’s worth it if he can talk someone through the nightmares, through the empty, threatening darkness. He’s made more than a few calls to law enforcement alongside those talks, to send out someone able to verify safety, to provide transport to inpatient treatment, to be a physical presence and deterrent to becoming a statistic. In the beginning, those calls felt like failure. Sometimes they still do.

The kid is obvious before he makes it all the way down the escalator to the baggage area. Standing too straight, too aware, eyes darting all over the place. James lifts the sign high enough to be seen and the quick moving eyes find it immediately. A nod of acknowledgement, and the kid comes toward him with long strides.

“Barnes?” he asks when he’s a few feet away from James.

“That’s me. James is fine if you like. Let’s grab your gear and get out of this place, yeah?”

Relief is evident on the kid’s face. He also looks half a second from outright panic at the milling crowd.

James darts into the thick of it to pull the luggage from the carousel, flinging the pack over his own shoulder and leading the kid out of the airport as quickly as he can. He’ll never understand why they book these flights in the middle of the day. Late night would be better. Lower crowd volume. Higher visibility.

Maximoff is quiet in the car, but James doesn’t try to press for conversation. It’s terrifying enough to be driven around by someone you don’t know. He’s not going to add to it by pressing for words the kid may or may not have in his arsenal at the moment. It’s been long enough to have his head mostly attached now, but it’s not been long enough for James to forget the utter disorientation wrought by the mindfuck of coming home to a world that’s forgotten there’s a war being fought on its behalf by the kids it didn’t want to care about to begin with.

The apartment complex is a simple one, decently secured without a high price tag – though a large explanation of that fee structure is because it’s part of Operation Home. The efficiency is open enough to provide good lines of sight, with enough division to provide safe space as well. It’s defensible and easy to scan on entry by design – even if it seems crazy to set it up as such when his job here is to help Pietro learn he can let that guard down.

M22 sponsors rehabilitation programs all over the country. Operation Home is one designed for men coming home without family connections. It feels too tailor made to be real sometimes, that there’s a program rehoming throw away vets all of across the city from him. He’s not sure that he’ll ever be able to counsel his fellow soldiers. Too much connection, not enough distance, but peer volunteer gigs negate the need for professional distance he feels incapable of in this instance. But this place lets him help.

Maximoff does exactly the same thing everyone does on entering the apartment. He looks it over, walks every inch, then sinks onto the couch and looks at James as if trying to decide if he’s going to have to chat.

“My number is on the counter. I can put it in your phone if you want. The landline has pre-programmed contacts. They’re listed on the wall next to it. You need anything, you call.”

“That an order?” he asks. James struggles to read whether it’s cheekiness or wariness.

“It’s whatever you need it to be,” he finally says in answer. The kid nods. Right choice, then. Bit of both.

#veteran bucky barnes #amputee bucky barnes #pietro maximoff #james barnes #chasing ghosts universe #foster care - age out #AU - foster care siblings #mission 22

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secret-time-is-here · 6 years ago

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The bad guys (Part 5)

Previous - First - Next - Rewrite

“Well, Ink.” Nightmare started as he put the spiral back in his pocket, “Wrong choice... Error?” Nightmare looked over to Error, giving him a wide smile. He also slanted his eyes in focus as he did this, make his expression almost insane like. There was no way this could end well for Ink.

Error gave a nod to Nightmare, agreeing to whatever the Dark Lord had planned. In an almost hasty action, Error had summoned his glitched gaster blasters and bones with his magic and started to charge at Ink with them. In the process also sending some stings out here and there to try and capture Ink, who was already running away.

They proceeded to run deeper in the woods getting so far into the thicket of branches and leaves that they had lost sight of Nightmare, and the dark twilight was also coming over their heads as they continued to run. Neither thought to stop though, neither could, both had their pride and reputation on the line.

Ink couldn’t be brought to the dark side, he was currently the only hope the Au’s had if they wanted to survive. Even if he was caught his pride would compel him to escape from the two corrupt beings. If not that, for the Au’s safety at least. For if those two unethical beings were to run everything, there would be no hope, no happiness, no joy, no peace, and most importantly no balance.

Error couldn’t fail Nightmare, this was a trial, a trial to prove his loyalty, a trial to show that he can be as strong as foretold. If he can prove his strength, he could be allies to Nightmare, not simply a lower rank like what will become of Ink if he were to be caught. If he were to alternatively fail, he is sure to be dead or worse. What could be worse than death? Error didn’t have any intention of finding out.

-----

They continued to run, they’d slow down every so often, but they kept going. It almost seemed comedic at times, they were both very limited on basically anything and everything. Error couldn’t use any magic or else it’d strain his soul, so he had to stick to running. Error also couldn’t use his stings because of how thick the hedge of trees was, and the fact that unless they were closer to each other, Ink could easily dodge the cables even if they were able to pass through the bushes.

Ink couldn’t because even if he didn’t have a soul, he still had to think to make whatever he’d use. And currently the ink blobs mind was scrabbled, he couldn’t think of anything to help him. Even if he were to, he’d still need to take the time to make it, and he was already dangerously close to Error, one slip up or trip on a rock could mean the end for him. Ink was thinking about what was happening how he could counter Error and Nightmare, and much much more.

Dawn had started to rise with its brilliant light blues, oranges, reds, and yellows; telling the rest of the world to wake. The two were quickly losing energy, this had become a game of cat and mouse. A wild one that wasn’t expected to stop anytime soon, but all expectations aren’t reached. Before either party could do anything Nightmare, who was tired of watching them aimlessly run through the forest, grabbed both of them with his tendrils stopping the escapade.

“You did well, Error. You could make a great ally, could. I’ll deal with you later.” Nightmare then threw a confused and somehow disappointed Error into a portal that connected to one of the castle’s guest rooms. “Now, for you, Ink. Wha-”

“I know what you’re going to say Nightmare..” The name was spat out with distaste and laced with venom as Ink said it. Ink looked at Nightmare with a blank emotionless expression, his eyes devoid of mercy or any emotion. “I’d rather die than join you, it’s funny honestly. I can completely understand why you would seek me out though. I’m an emotionless husk If I didn’t have these vials… well, I could probably kill on command. That’s what you planned, correct? To take my vials away the second you could so you could add me to what you will call your group, no so you can add me to your army. I bet you wouldn’t even care if I did die-”Ink had a dark expression on his face, One Nightmare knew a bit too well.

“Stop, just… stop. You’re giving off such a thick negative aura… but how? I’m not close enough for you to give off my aura, and you being soulless are incapable of any feelings.. Especially pure negativity or positivity. Since your vials are currently empty, there’s no logical option… you can’t be faking anything either because I could tell…”Nightmare pondered as he sat down on the dirt clearing him and Ink were now in.

“How do you know?”

“Know what…? I know a lot of shit you bonehead.” Nightmare menaced.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you can only feel what a person is feeling not if it is true or not.” Ink smirked as he saw Nightmare’s confused expression, just what Ink needed.

Nightmare belongs to @jokublog

Ink belongs to @comyet

Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

#Undertale #Fanfic #DreamTale Nightmare #DreamTale #Ink sans #Light swearing #Swearing #The bad guys #The bad guys part 5 #Part 5 #headcanon #my works #My writing

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onlylovekpop · 7 years ago

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Trouble Maker | Shin Ho Seok | One-Shot

wonho (monstax) + you (reader) word count: 7,309 warnings: um yeah so this is a stepbrother!au but technically the parents aint married yet so its more a future stepbrother shitstorm if that makes it any better for your moral compass lol heads up for a tiny bit of underage drinking but mainly car sex and fingering and oral and some blunt dirty talk but i know some of yall are like me and that definitely floats our boats hehe a/n: chatting with my friend and she told me about her dream jon snow was gonna be her stepbrother and they rage fucked each other because they were so bitter about it and i thought wow what a fantastic idea can i write that and she gave me her blessing lol so here we go thanks darling

It was a grey, stormy day when my father called me down to the kitchen for what he deemed a family meeting. Naturally, my mood was sour. My dad was a strait-laced commander in the military and when he summoned me for a father-daughter discussion, I rarely left happy.

Dragging my feet into the kitchen, I hopped on to one of the stools and folded my arms across the bar. Dad moved in front of me on the other side and prepared two cups of hot tea, dropping a slice of lemon in each.

“When are we moving?” I asked irritably, assuming our years in this country were over with and it was time for the next station.

He glanced up from the tea cups with a smile and said, “Surprise. We are here to stay for good, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You’re being kept here permanently?” I questioned, understandably skeptical. South Korea had been our home for the past five years and truth be told, I rather loved the place, but I had been uprooted enough times to never fall too in love with anything.

Dad handed me my cup and I sipped the tea gingerly, careful not to burn my mouth. It ran down my throat hotly and I hummed my approval. I never questioned what Dad put in the concoction, but I always slept like a baby afterward and dreamed pleasant dreams.

I safely assumed it was a peace offering.

Bracing his hands on the counter, my Dad fixated his eyes on me and waited until he had snared my undivided attention. Then, he declared, “I’m getting married.”

If there had been any liquid in my mouth, I would have spit it out. That explained the pause.

“Married?” I exclaimed.

“Yes, now before you freak out…” he started calmly.

“To that divorced lady you’ve been dating for six months?” I shouted, voice cracking.

Dad held up his hands and grew stern when he continued, “Seven months and yes, she was married before. So was I.”

“Mom died,” I was quick to remind. “There’s a big difference.”

Dad exhaled, noting the way my face had tensed at the mere mention of my mother. “Baby girl, you gave me your blessing when I started dating again. I waited until you were ready and out of respect to your mother.”

I leaned back in my chair, lowering my head as tears gathered in my eyes.

Dad stepped around the counter quickly, pulling me into his arms and doing his best to soothe me.

“How could you do this to Mom?” I sobbed into my hands. “Didn’t you love her?”

“Of course, I loved her,” my father chided, borderline angry I had posed such a question. “I loved her with every fiber of my being. But she’s gone and she would have wanted us to move on.”

I recoiled and instantly angled away from my father, closing myself off from him and hiding my face behind my long hair.

He called my name softly, but I didn’t respond. In my eyes, in that moment, the devoted relationship we’d had was over.

And I swore I would never forgive him for giving me a stepmother and a stepbrother.

The next morning, I was dressed to impress. Despite already hating these people I had yet to meet, I wanted to knock their socks off when they looked at me.

Stepping outside in my short sundress, my dad flinched and whined, “Do you have to wear that?”

Referring to how the garment hugged my curves, I snorted, “I’m a woman, Dad. This is what we look like.”

He groaned and opened the car door for me. Little did he know, I had made it my new personal mission in life to make him absolutely miserable.

Maybe I hated him. I despised that he could even speak of my mother the way he did. That she wanted us - she wanted me - to move on. Was he implying she would have wanted me to embrace a new mother?

It made me sick and a bitter taste remained in my mouth for the rest of the day.

“You said she has a son?” I asked, staring out the window as the trees ticked by.

“Yes, he is from a previous relationship before she was married,” my dad informed.

“So she and her husband didn’t have any kids together?”

“No, they didn’t and I believe she said her boy is the same age as you.”

“Wow, a pair of teenagers in the same house. How will we entertain ourselves?” I droned with disdain.

My dad furrowed his brow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, Daddy,” I crooned. “Nothing at all.”

The car rolled to a stop outside the ritzy-looking country club. I knew my Dad came here often to play golf with his fellow high-ranking military officials. The food was pretty good and the veranda was to die for with its view of the gardens.

My father pulled out a chair for me like the gentleman he was and I sat at the white-clothed table seated on a private overlook. Apparently, we had arrived first.

The two of us sat in silence. Dad constantly looked to me, expecting a conversation to start at some point. Normally, he and I talked about anything and everything. I could make him laugh until his face turned red.

Not anymore. I was content to never speak to him again for as long as I lived.

He blinked slowly, sadly. Maybe it was then that the same realization hit him.

A few minutes later, he called out to someone and my heart raced. I kept my eyes on the gardens and swallowed the lump in my throat. Though I wanted to be an absolute brat, I reminded myself that this boy was probably in the same boat I was emotionally.

With a grumble, I rose from my chair and finally turned around.

My father ushered in a beautiful, small woman trailed by a stocky, handsome boy. I was even more annoyed, hoping he would be an ugly jerk, but as I watched him bow and address my father with respect, I forced away my frown.

My father spoke my name and introduced, “This is Sunghwa and her son, Wonho.”

“Hello,” I greeted the woman who was to be my new stepmother and added, “You’re very pretty.”

“As are you,” she beamed. “Very beautiful.”

I thanked her and turned to her son, mirroring his bow in silence and awkwardly shuffling back to my seat.

I promise I’m not exaggerating when I say Wonho and I didn’t utter a single word during the brunch. My father and his wife-to-be gabbled back and forth like love-struck kids and the sight made it hard for me to keep food down.

My future stepbrother and I ate our meals and wallowed in the silence until my father suggested a walk through the gardens.

“You two go,” I was quick to interject, locking eyes with Wonho. “I want to order some dessert.”

Wonho cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t argue.

The engaged couple was more than happy for some alone time and bid their goodbyes before practically skipping hand-in-hand toward the veranda.

“Did I hear someone mention dessert?” asked the waiter, Minsoo. He and I knew each other very well, considering my father brought me to this place regularly.

Glancing up at him, I gave him a smile and said, “Yes, a big glass of tea laced with lots of vodka, please.”

Wonho gawked at me in disbelief before a tiny smirk crept over his lips.

Meanwhile, Minsoo rolled his eyes and groaned, “You owe me.”

“Pfft, like hell I do,” I retorted. “I got you a date with Hyomin.”

“It was horrible,” he exclaimed under his breath.

I waved him away, running out of tolerance for his whining. “That’s not my fault. Can I get my drink now, please? Trust me when I say I need it.”

He droned, “Coming right up. But you owe me.”

“Fine. I owe you. Get on with it.”

Minsoo scurried toward the kitchen and I slouched backwards into my chair, crossing my legs and angling toward the view of the gardens.

“Aren’t you eighteen?” asked Wonho blithely.

“Yep,” I replied.

“Drinking age here is nineteen,” he told me, nonchalant it seemed for the time being.

“I’ve lived here six years, but thank you for bringing me up to speed,” I snapped, letting my sarcasm reign free. “Tattle if you want.”

Wonho rubbed a finger over his lip pensively and asked with subtle interest, “What will your father do if you get drunk?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not gonna get drunk off of one glass of tea and vodka.”

Minsoo approached with drink in hand.

My eyes lit up and I gave him an over exaggerated grin as I greeted, “Ooh, speak of the devil.”

Minsoo shuffled nervously and murmured under his breath, “Do you think Hyomin will give me another chance?”

“Jesus, Minsoo, I can only do so much as a wingman.”

My waiter friend cleared out and I downed a mouthful of my drink.

“So, we’re going to be siblings soon. Aren’t you excited?” I asked with feigned glee.

Wonho merely glared momentarily before taunting, “My Mom went on and on about how you’re such a good girl. At least, that’s what your Dad told her.”

I snickered. “Those days are over. I’ve been very well-behaved, but that’s because my mom died and I wanted to be nice to him. Now, I can see he’s obviously not grieving anymore and I’m going to be his worst fucking nightmare.”

Just as I set my drink down, Wonho snatched it and to my surprise, took a big gulp. After a pause, he met my eyes and asked, “How can I help?”

I smiled devilishly.

“But what’s wrong with our parents being happy?” Wonho questioned a moment later, pretending to be presented with the biggest moral dilemma of his life.

“I wanna be happy, too,” I crooned, swirling the straw in my drink between my fingers. “Why can’t we do things that make us happy, too? Like being the teenagers that we are.”

“I’m mad she’s getting remarried,” Wonho groaned, taking the tea as I handed it to him for another gulp. “I won’t act like I’m not.”

I shrugged. “She was married before. What’s another time?”

Wonho’s face tensed with anger as he explained, “She’s from one man to the next and never gives a damn about me.”

Snorting, I teased, “Are you saying your mom’s a slut?”

Wonho snatched the glass of tea and helped himself. “What about you?” he asked.

My brows lifted at the inquiry. “Am I slut?”

He nodded and his gaze was glaringly obvious as it traveled down my body.

“No,” I finally responded. “But I could open up to the idea.”

“That was fast,” Wonho said with a laugh and the sound made me smile.

I downed the rest of my drink and rose from my chair, whispering, “How’s this for fast? I’m going to the bathroom. Wait a minute or two and come find me. If you want, of course.”

He gaped briefly before winking his approval.

Striding away, I found the ladies’ room and pushed the door inward, immediately checking the stalls for privacy. With the coast clear, I approached the sinks and smoothed down my dress with a heavy sigh. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I gazed in wonder at how I had changed so much in the past twenty-four hours. I was hurt and overcome with rage.

I snapped from my thoughts when there was a knock at the door. Cracking it open, there stood Wonho and I grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling him inside. He was quick to lock the door behind us, but the moment he turned back around to face me, our bodies collided and our lips met.

We both tasted of tea and vodka and I couldn’t have been thirstier. I could feel both of us smiling through the kisses, knowing this was stupid and reckless, but we were both too broken to care.

Wonho backed me clumsily into the granite counter, teasing his tongue over my bottom lip until I gave him entrance to my mouth. My fingers found his biceps, squeezing at the feel of hard, bulging muscles beneath. After tracing my touches over his firm shoulders, marveling the iron feel of his back, I reached behind myself and gripped the counter. Wonho looked for my hands, missing them on his body, and noticed what I was doing. He grabbed my thighs, hauling me with ease to the counter.

The granite was cold and my skirt did little to block the chill, but I was too busy locking my ankles behind his hips to give a proper shit. Gripping his face and running my fingers into his smooth hair, our lips parted and Wonho moved his mouth to the side of my neck, biting gently before kissing and sucking at my skin.

I tipped my head back, humming through my pleasure and closing my eyes. “Do you think our parents will be as angry as we are when they find out their kids had been fucking?” I asked snidely.

Wonho stopped his kisses just long enough to growl, “Worse.”

I chuckled and reached for his shirt, proceeding to undo the top buttons.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and we broke away loudly as someone jiggled the handle, quickly shouting for an attendant to have the facilities opened.

“Shit,” Wonho groaned.

“We’ll have to finish this later,” I panted.

He nodded and swallowed to wet his dry throat. “Where?”

“Are you a good climber?”

“Maybe,” he sang with a playful grin.

“I’ll leave my window open.”

Wonho interjected, “Or I can offer to drive you home.”

I clapped my hands and cheered, “Yeah, that’s better. They’ll be happy to get even more time away from us.”

Leaning forward, we shared a quick kiss before Wonho helped me down from the counter. The knocks grew more insistent and I looked to my new partner in crime for an escape.

“Follow my lead,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around my waist and tucking me closely to his side.

Unlocking the door, a woman’s eyes widened at the sight of us and I could see the accusatory glare slowly taking over her face.

“Do you think you can make it to the car, sis?” Wonho asked sweetly.

I nodded. “Yeah, just please don’t let me fall.”

“I would never,” Wonho coaxed, offering his most innocent smile to the woman as she passed by us toward the stalls.

“Is she alright?” the stranger asked.

“Almost fainted. Splashing water on her face seemed to help.”

“Oh, dear. I hope you feel better.”

“Thank you,” I managed feebly, letting Wonho partially carry me out of the bathroom.

The moment we were in the clear, I turned to him and we burst into laughter.

“That was so fucking close,” he murmured.

“My heart was pounding,” I replied, putting a hand over my chest.

“More so than when you were making out with me?” he asked playfully, lifting his eyebrows up and down.

I pushed his arm and whined, “Hey, keep it down!”

“Alright, alright. Get on with the plan. Call your Dad.”

“What’s the rush?” I teased, pulling out my phone and wiggling it in my hand. “Are you that excited to get me naked?”

“Uh, obviously.”

I chortled and dialed my father. Given that he was frolicking through the gardens with his soon to be trophy wife, I was surprised he picked up at all.

“Yes, darling?”

I put on my best simper and began, “Daddy, I’m not feeling too well. Something I ate isn’t agreeing with me. Or maybe it’s the heat.”

Wonho met my mischievous eyes and borderline snorted.

“I’m on my way,” began my father, as if he were reading from a manual.

“Actually, Wonho offered to drive me home,” I quickly interrupted. “And that way you can stay out with your fiancée longer.”

My father was suspicious when he droned, “That’s generous of him.”

“Yeah, he’s annoying and mopey, but at least he’ll be easy to get rid of when I get home,” I lied, raking my tongue over my lip when Wonho gave me an irritated glare.

“Be nice to him. He’ll be your brother soon.”

“Don’t remind me,” I snarled.

“See you in a couple hours, honey,” he chirped.

“Bye, Daddy.”

“Is it wrong if I like the way you say Daddy?” Wonho teased.

I smacked his chest gently and chided, “Yes, it is.”

“Let’s get going.”

As he drove, one hand lazily on the wheel, I looked Wonho up and down like I was picking out my steak at an expensive restaurant. Reaching over, I grabbed his arm and squeezed the muscles with my fingers. Then, I moved to his chest, tracing my fingertips over his dress shirt.

“You’re shredded under that, aren’t you?” I quipped.

“Yep.”

“I’m gonna bite the shit out of you,” I warned playfully.

He clocked a brief glance at me and threatened, “Then, I’m gonna bruise the shit out of you.”

“Go for the thighs,” I cooed, crossing my legs and inevitably bringing his gaze to my bared skin. “I’ve always wanted to know what I would look like with marked up thighs.”

“What? No dude has ever been rough enough with you?”

“Ugh, I wish. For me, it’s been nothing but gentle missionary.”

Wonho laughed. “Too bad our parents didn’t hook up sooner.”

“I actually agree.”

My eyes traveled southward and my hand inevitably followed. Wonho sucked in a hard breath when I discovered the hard bulge in his pants.

“I didn’t know you got hard while we were making out?” I teased with glee.

Wonho grabbed my wrist with his free hand to stop me from palming him, snapping, “Why do you think I was in such a hurry to get out of there?”

“The mystery is solved,” I exclaimed, then I slid closer and whispered, “How big is it?”

“Big.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He was quick to add, “Legendary.”

I laughed and teased him, “Well, no one has been inside me for over a year. Are you sure you’ll fit?”

He shuddered visibly and squeezed my wrist a little tighter. “You gonna be a good girl and open up for me?”

Now it was my turn to shiver and I looked down as Wonho easily pulled my hand away, bringing it to my own lap. He used his forearm to press against my stomach, pushing me back into my seat. Then, his hand dipped beneath my skirt.

I let out a ragged breath when he pulled my dress higher and higher until it draped over the tops of my thighs.

“We’re so gonna crash,” I whimpered, holding his forearm as his fingers proceeded to run up and down my slit over my underwear.

“I’m watching the road,” Wonho reminded and it dawned on me he hadn’t actually taken his eyes off the highway this entire time.

I gulped and thanked the heavens silently that I had showered and shaved this morning.

“Someone feels wet,” Wonho growled, pushing at my clothed clit with his thick fingers.

“Oh, shit,” I whined, tipping my head back and colliding harshly into the car seat. Gripping his burly arm, I stroked my palm over his silky skin like he was my anchor.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” he ordered firmly under his breath.

I nodded my understanding.

Wonho pushed aside my panties and dipped two fingers toward my entrance. I adjusted my position on the seat to give him access and lowered my head to sink my teeth into his clothed bicep as he pushed his digits into me slightly.

It had been so long since I had been touched and the rush of danger and rage the two of us shared was a combination I had no idea could get such a visceral reaction out of me.

“Fuck, you are a tight, little thing, aren’t you?” Wonho growled, rolling his hand to get his fingers deeper and deeper.

I whimpered, winching my eyes closed. Feeling my walls stretching to accept him had never felt so good.

“Oh, god,” I rasped, moving my hips to the same pace as his hand. “Pull over.”

“Hang in there, sweetheart,” he crooned. “We’re almost home.”

Wonho was trying to sound tougher than me, but I could hear the strain in his voice and I was convinced the strain in his pants was probably much worse. The sound of my arousal coating his fingers, the way it seemed to echo in the car, was all too much. My face felt hot and my heart was beating wildly.

“Wonho,” I panted, propping a hand against the roof of the car and arching my hips as his fingers picked up speed. “I swear to god. Pull the car over so I can ride your fucking cock.”

That did the trick.

Wonho tapped the brakes and pulled off a sharp turn to a dirt path. We had been on a highway surrounded by trees. The country club was outside the city and nestled at the base of the mountains. It wasn’t surprising he found a dirt road to a small fishing spot.

The moment the car was in park, Wonho tore off his seat belt and pounced on me. I welcomed him with open arms, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to me as our lips met in a loud collision of teeth and tongues.

“The back seat is tinted,” he managed to tell me between kisses while unbuckling my safety belt.

“No one can see in?”

“Nope.”

I braced my hands on his chest and smiled at the bemused look that took over his flushed face. Then, I turned and clambered to the safety of the back seat. He was a fraction of a second behind me and I rolled to my back on the cushions, reaching under my dress and grabbing my panties. Wonho rubbed his hands up my smooth thighs and helped tug the material down until he could pull them from my ankles. I kicked off my shoes and spread my legs, inviting him between them.

To my surprise, Wonho dropped to his stomach and ducked his head under my dress. Just as I was about to ask him what the hell he was doing, I felt his breath on my core.

“Fu…” I started, reaching out to grab the seats with my hands, inevitably scratching the leather when I couldn’t get a solid grip.

Wonho leisurely raked the flat of his tongue up my lower lips before giving my clit a gentle, open-mouth kiss. My chest began heaving for breath and adrenaline raced down my legs. I mentally chastised myself for getting this worked up, but it had been such a long time since someone fucked me up like this.

“Wonho,” I cried out desperately for him as he continued sucking on my clit, moving his head from side to side ever so slowly as he did. Occasionally, he broke away to sink his teeth into the flesh of my inner thigh.

I writhed on the seat, constantly moving underneath him with the way he tortured me. He teased my clit with delicate precision, drawing out every lap of his tongue and every pass of his lips. The sounds he made as his mouth played with my core ricocheted into my ears until they filled with a dull pound.

Arching my back, I closed my eyes and licked my lips, humming with pleasure. Wonho smiled against my folds and looped his muscly arms around my thighs, kneading at my flesh while he reduced me to nothing.

My breaths caught in my throat as he darted his tongue into my entrance and my hips jerked involuntarily against his face when he returned to sucking on my clit.

“Hm?” Wonho finally replied to my shouts of his name.

“I didn’t know,” I stuttered, swallowing to dampen my dry throat from the embarrassing amount of panting I was doing. “You wanted to eat me out.”

“I’m not gonna be that guy that sticks my big dick in a girl that isn’t wet enough to take it,” he told me calmly, kissing my hip bone between his words.

Gulping rather loudly, I stared at the ceiling and asked, “A-am I wet enough for you yet?”

“Yeah, you have been,” Wonho replied in a taunt. “But I am really getting off on watching the way you squirm.”

I reached down and yanked up my dress, finally exposing his head and grabbing a handful of blonde hair. “You little – I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Just as I had been about to insult him for teasing me, Wonho went back to my clit, tonguing and biting at the bundle of nerves with a vengeance. My thighs instinctively clamped down on both sides of his head as a buffer for the onslaught of pleasure I felt and a howl left my mouth.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Wonho commented, lifting to rest on his elbows.

I mirrored his moves, glancing down at him and feeling suddenly nervous. “Why did you stop?”

He let out a long, conflicted exhale and said, “I’m giving you a chance to change your mind.”

“Why would I do that?” I asked incredulously.

He cocked his head, unconvinced. “Because you’re only doing this to piss off your father.”

“Maybe. Maybe at first, but…” I trailed, glancing away.

“What?”

With a shrug, I admitted timidly, “I had no idea you were as hurt and angry as I was. I thought I was alone.”

Wonho smiled and stroked my thigh, craning down to peck a few affectionate kisses along my knee. When he finished, he asked sheepishly, “You wanna be friends?”

“Friends that rage fuck on a regular basis?” I clarified with a tilt of my head.

He bobbed his head in agreement and sang, “In my professional opinion, it would be a good coping mechanism for both of us.”

I snickered. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Wonho’s face turned serious as he added, “I have a condition, though.”

“Let me hear it.”

“You’re not a slut and I’m not gonna let you turn into one just to get back at your Dad. If we start fucking, you don’t fuck anyone else.”

That surprised me and I chose to hide behind my humor. “Ugh, who am I gonna fuck? I don’t like anyone. I pretty much hate people in general.”

Wonho stroked my thigh again and crooned, “You just met me.”

“Yeah, but we’re about to be living in the same house for a while.”

“True. So?”

For a moment, I paused, then relented, “Alright, I won’t fuck anyone else. What about you?”

“I won’t fuck anyone else either, if that’s what you want.”

I nodded and said, “I’m all about equality.”

“Deal.”

“Okay, let’s get on with this horrible lapse in moral judgment.”

He grinned mischievously. “As you wish.”

I rolled my eyes.

Wonho kneeled between my thighs and fiddled with his belt. I stayed on my back, arms splayed at my sides as I watched him with bated breath. When he finally pulled his length free, I laughed in disbelief.

“You weren’t kidding,” I exclaimed.

“You think I would use the word legendary so loosely?”

I snorted and crooned, “I’ll never doubt you again.”

“Good,” he coaxed, pumping his fist around his member. “Think you’re ready to take this cock then?”

“Fuck, yes.”

I licked my lips as I watched him settle lower. His dick was slightly above average in length, but it was the girth that had my attention. The boy was thick everywhere else. It was no surprise his equipment would follow suit.

Our eyes met as he grabbed my thighs with his arms and spread me farther. His hands slid softly up my legs, grabbing my knees in his firm hands and holding them up in the air.

“Take your shirt off,” I suddenly demanded, feeling sweat gathering behind my neck.

Wonho shook his head and exhaled, “In a sec, trouble maker. I gotta be in you now.”

I couldn’t agree more. My pussy was throbbing ever since the loss of his mouth and at the sight of his girth, my core was pulsing with desire.

Swallowing to wet my dry throat, I grabbed his arms as Wonho propped himself over me. When his hand left my side and moved to guide himself inside of me, I pulled him closer until I could sink my teeth into his shoulder.

“Wonho,” I shouted as he pushed his cock into my entrance and slid forward slowly. It didn’t matter how slow he was, I was stretched to the max and it was phenomenal.

Wonho slid a hand in my hair and gripped me close to his chest as he settled to the hilt in my velvet walls. “Fuck,” he groaned under his breath, rocking his hips slightly to drive forward, gentle as could be.

On my back in his car, I howled his name and set my nails into his clothed shoulders as he thrust his hips back and forth, plunging into me hard over and over.

Wonho rutted his length sharply into me, a resounding smack echoing in the car. My entire body jolted in place from the harshness of his movement and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

With a whimper, I reached up to toy my fingers through his hair, holding tightly while he gripped my waist. After another thrust of his hips, I mewled at the pressure and locked my ankles behind his back.

Wonho quickly brought his mouth to mine, breaths passing through each other’s lips. Sweat had already begun to bead around his hairline and I took my time staring at his face, especially his eyes and the way his pupils had blown out.

“Does it hurt?” he asked me, rasping.

I shook my head insistently, worried if I didn’t convince him, he might turn gentle. “No,” I told him. “It’s good. You feel so good.”

The edge of his mouth crooked up in a short smile. He stole a quick kiss before returning his attention to where our bodies met and locked together.

“Damn it, gentle missionary,” Wonho suddenly growled.

“Huh?” I questioned, forgetting my words from earlier.

Wonho gripped my waist and turned, trading our places and putting me on top. Having very little experience in the saddle, I stared down at him with wide, anxious eyes. When I didn’t move, Wonho narrowed his gaze and grabbed my ass with both hands, kneading the flesh before giving both cheeks a healthy slap.

“Get riding,” he ordered, voice husky and thick with arousal.

Letting my hips rise and fall, I kept eye contact with him to see how I was doing until it became too much for me. Swirling myself around him and letting his cock stroke against my sweet spot, I easily decided I was a big fan of being on top.

“How is this?” I asked unsurely.

Wonho fussed, “Do what feels good to you, baby. I promise, I will like it.”

I chortled, “Easy to please?”

“In this tight pussy, yes.”

I gleamed and propped my hands on his burly chest, arching my hips and letting my ass bounce up and down, smacking into the tops of his thighs loudly. My fingers clawed at the material of his shirt and I went to work getting it off of him, wanting badly to feel his skin against my fingertips.

Wonho helped tear the dress shirt free of his body and my mouth watered at his chiseled form beneath me. I stroked my palms up and down his firm pecs, teasing my nails over his hard nipples with every pass. As I kept riding him, letting his length slide back and forth within my walls, Wonho felt it was only fair to discard the dress I was wearing.

In a flash, he grabbed the garment and yanked it over my head, leaving me in only my bra. Wonho reached up and cupped my face, tracing a thumb over my bottom lip as I gaped for breath. Then, his fingers caressed down my neck and to the swell of my breasts. He teased the clothed mounds, kneading and squeezing.

For the first time since I began riding him in the backseat of his car, on a down stroke I dropped deeper into his lap, finally letting Wonho sit balls deep in my heat. The fullness ripped a moan out of my mouth and I winched my eyes closed.

“You good, baby?” Wonho teased, abandoning my breasts to get a solid hold on my hips.

“You’re thick,” I whimpered, tentatively bouncing on his lap again. “Like you’re ripping me in half.”

“You sound thrilled,” he snorted.

“I am,” I quipped, grabbing his hands and guiding them to rest on my bare ass.

“Come on, then. You can go deeper.”

He was referring to the way I now avoided sinking down on his cock as I had before. When he was deepest, it made my thighs shake and I had never been stretched that far.

“Make me,” I suddenly blurted, setting my nails into this chest.

Wonho winced and our eyes locked as I came to a stop.

“I thought you were gonna fuck me?” I asked, looking for trouble and undoubtedly finding it. “Is this all you can do?”

Fire appeared in his eyes and my heart raced with delight at to the prospect of a punishment I was about to get.

Wonho frowned and sat up sharply, reaching around and unsnapping my bra. He lifted me off of his lap, withdrawing his length from me and flipping me on to my stomach. I grabbed the edge of the seat, my hair tumbling into my face and blocking my eyes. I panted desperately for breath as I felt him settle over me, pushing my thighs apart to make room for him.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” Wonho hissed in my ear, grabbing a handful of my hair.

I said nothing.

A hand cracked across my ass and I squeaked as the sound lingered in the car. Distracted by the stinging sensation fading on my skin, I barely felt the fingertips at my entrance followed by his cock being guided inside.

Wonho let out a shaky groan on my neck as he fully pressed himself into me and I sighed with relief to be filled again, having been aching for something to fill the void he’d left. He lifted slightly and began showering my shoulders with wet kisses, the loud sound of them ringing in my ears.

Slowly, he rocked back and forth, easing his length in and out while murmuring how well I took such a big cock. His pace steadily picked up speed until his hips began smacking into my ass with each thrust. I felt his muscular chest on my shoulders and he abandoned his hold on my hair to reach around and grab my throat instead.

“Wonho,” I cried out, turning my head to see him above me.

Wonho kissed my jaw with affection and held my neck securely, whispering in my ear, “I can’t wait to live in that house with you. I can’t wait to sneak into your room every night.”

“Oh god,” I panted, my mouth watering at the thought.

“You won’t go a day without being sore and feeling what I do to you,” he growled, sliding his free hand beneath me and squeezing my breast. “What do you think about that?”

“I love it,” was the only thing I could manage to say, because it was hopelessly true.

Wonho sank his teeth into the base of my shoulder, bruising the skin until I yelped. “I own this pussy now,” he snarled, turning my head to kiss me on the mouth possessively.

I moaned against his lips as his pelvis picked up speed. He was driving his cock into me now and I struggled against his hold on me as the telltale signs of an orgasm came to my attention.

He raked his hands up and down my sides, occasionally reaching under me to grab my breasts and play with my nipples. When he had his fill of that, his hand traveled to my ass, gripping both cheeks tightly and moving me in tandem with his hips, exposing the sight of my filled pussy to him.

“God damn it,” he huffed, pushing every inch of his thick length into my cunt.

“Don’t stop, I beg you,” I whined like a bitch in heat.

I needed this high. I needed him to fuck all this anger out of me. And truth be told, he was doing a marvelous job.

I couldn’t think about how hurt I was when Wonho was bringing me this much pleasure. For a moment, all I could comprehend was our bodies together, how well we fit. Everything else faded into static. I became only aware of Wonho and what he made me feel.

With another swear word or two, Wonho grabbed both of my hands, lacing his fingers through mine, and used his body to pin me to the seat. He drew back until only the tip of his length remained before forcing back in. My pussy squelched around him and Wonho groaned under his breath at the sound.

“Fuck, I am fucking your brains out,” Wonho said, his voice a full octave lower.

I nodded rapidly and panted, “Harder. Harder, baby.”

“I don’t think this pretty cunt can take much more,” Wonho replied, burrowing his face against my neck. “You’re so goddamn tight.”

“Please, I’m this close,” I begged, flexing my legs around his.

“I’m gonna come in you,” Wonho groaned. “Yes or no?”

For a moment, I paused, pretending to be thinking it over just to frustrate him. When he slowed down, I replied, “Yes, yes, yes. Come in me. I need you.”

“You need me?”

Panicking, I yelled, “Yes.”

“You have me,” he hissed as I clamped down on him. “Now, come for me.”

I keened and arched my back, doing everything I could to give him access to my sweet spot. Swear words tumbled out of my mouth while I squeezed his fingers tangled with my own and flexed my thighs against his between mine.

Parting my lips, I expected to moan at the top of my lungs, but no sound came out. My eyes rolled to some other dimension as my body shivered in pulses. Wonho only sped up, his thrusts growing louder as I became even wetter with the orgasm.

“That’s it,” Wonho murmured, voice trembling against my neck. Suddenly, he sank his teeth into my flesh and bit down, earning a cry from me.

He finally came to a stop, rocking me forward rather roughly as he buried himself inside me as deep as he could. I untangled myself from his hands to brace my palms on the car door, focusing on catching my breath as his cock twitched and emptied his load.

“Fucking hell,” Wonho growled, weighing me down with his body as he shuddered on top of me.

Time passed slowly as we lay there. I didn’t utter a word as I waited for what would happen next. Would this be awkward?

Wonho finally lifted from my back and rested on his hands and knees. Draped on the seat, I turned my head and glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked gently, reaching down and pushing hair out of my face with the tips of his fingers.

I shook my head and swallowed to wet my dry throat, finally answering, “No.”

Wonho stroked his palm down my naked side, making me bite my lip with arousal at how his skin felt against mine. He reached my hip and pushed down to keep me pinned, withdrawing his softening length from my folds at last.

I hissed when I realized how sore I was from taking his cock, but then I mentally reprimanded myself for how much I liked it.

Wonho suddenly told me he was going to flip me over and before I could protest out of exhaustion, his grip was on my waist, turning me over to my back.

“Let me recover, asshole,” I whined playfully.

Wonho snickered and gazed down at me, raking in the sight of my naked body beneath him. Then, he leaned down and seized my lips in a kiss, dancing his tongue in my mouth.

I moaned with satisfaction at the feel of his soft, pillowy lips and fought the urge to beg for another round.

When Wonho broke away, he smiled and caged my head between his thick arms. “I’m not as angry now,” he joked, eyes scrunching with a laugh.

“Me neither, but I may need a fix tonight,” I mumbled shyly, though I couldn’t imagine why I was shy about asking him for more sex. He was the one who had mentioned it.

“Day or night, baby,” he replied sweetly. “I’ll never turn down a chance to be inside you.”

I simpered, feeling a blush form across my cheeks. Sliding my hands underneath me, I pushed up until I could lean back against the car door, taking a long, steadying breath. Wonho still sat between my bare legs and reached down to grab his pants.

“Ready to get dressed?” he asked quietly.

“Uh, no,” I sighed. “Can’t you tell I’m fucked out?”

“Here,” Wonho said with a chuckle, handing me his shirt. “Put this on and I’ll drive you home. You can stay back here.”

“That’s nice of you.”

I took the button-up shirt from his outstretched hand and pulled it around me, about to start fastening the buttons when Wonho jumped on me, kissing his way up my stomach and between my breasts.

I giggled at the ticklish sensation of the quick trails of his tongue. “What are you doing?”

“God, I wanna take you again,” Wonho growled, sucking a bruise against my collarbone.

“You have my permission,” I breathed, tipping my head back and accidentally smacking my skull on the window.

“Damn it, let me get you home. I don’t want anyone to catch us out here,” Wonho spoke up, shaking his head to come back to his senses. I was impressed he had the strength to be the voice of reason. He buttoned up the shirt to cover me and put on his pants and tank top.

In the backseat, I watched the trees pass us as blurs of green. My eyes blinked tiredly and I wondered if asking Wonho to nap and cuddle with me would be too much. Maybe we would only fuck, nothing more.

“Did you mean it when you said you need me? Or was that the sex talking?” asked Wonho suddenly.

With a shrug, I questioned, “Does it matter?”

Wonho glanced at me in the rearview mirror and told me innocently, “No one has ever needed me before. I liked it.”

“Well, I meant it,” I replied with a comforting smile, realizing this big, strong man was probably a very soft marshmallow at heart. “I think we’ll need each other to get through this.”

Wonho whispered sadly, “Yeah, I don’t have anyone else.”

“Neither do I,” I told him, and our eyes met in the mirror as a silent understanding passed between us.

And there it was. We were two lonely, hurting people and ironically, the thing we hated most had brought us together.

For more oneshots, click here for the masterlist.

Author’s Note: This fiction is written and owned by me. I monitor my work diligently and will take measures to protect my writing if it is stolen or plagiarized.

#oneshots #wonho #monstax #wonho smut #monsta x smut #monstax smut

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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15 Most Powerful Street Fighter Characters

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Street Fighter has been around since 1987, which means it has introduced many, many characters to the fighting game pantheon. Despite being a game where every fighter is supposed to be more or less on the same level, the narrative doesn’t reflect that. Boss characters and main heroes are the best of the best in the story. Some even reach demigod status and become virtually invincible . For real, even Sean’s endings show him either lose repeatedly to Ryu or reveal that him winning the game’s tournament was just a dream he experienced while knocked after the first round.

So who are the most powerful characters in Street Fighter lore? I’ve put together a list of the top 15. Funny enough, Guile and Chun-Li – the heroes from the two live-action movies – are nowhere to be found. Go figure.

15. Seth

Seth has the honor of being the final boss of the Street Fighter IV games. Not only does Seth have Taskmaster powers that allow them to understand basically every fighting move they see but they have a rubbery android body that allows them to upgrade said moves in badass ways. Seth runs their own evil organization and is the mastermind behind the big tournament, which gives them a spot by default.

Unfortunately, Seth never really does anything of note in the story. They gave Ryu a run for his money in the Tie That Binds anime, but Seth never really proves to be anything more that just another villain. They’re quickly overshadowed by Bison licking his wounds from Street Fighter II and reestablishing himself as the top terrorist. Seth is reduced to a malfunctioning afterthought.

14. Cody Travers

Cody is a unique subject as he’s a hero from another property (Final Fight) thrown into Street Fighter, where he isn’t really allowed to be the protagonist. It’s a lot like how Terry Bogard and Ryo Sakazaki are heroes in their own fighting games but act as supporting characters in King of Fighters. With Cody, there’s an actual story explanation.

Simply put, Cody is insanely powerful but lacks the drive to hit his potential. In both his regular and Oni form, Akuma tells Cody in his winq uotes that if he actually tried, he would be a major threat. That’s as high praise as you can get, considering how Akuma usually resorts to insults. Cody never does act on his potential, so we don’t actually know how high up the ladder he’d be if he gave a damn and asserted himself. In the meantime, he lazily puts up his dukes in hopes that it will kill his boredom.

13. G

As the story goes, Street Fighter V was supposed to get a second campaign, and G was going to be the villain, but the idea was scrapped. Despite all that, this enigmatic Uncle Sam knockoff is still a mystery threat that we’ve yet to understand. In fact, according to Rose’s Street Fighter V storyline, G is supposed to be the harbinger for the end of everything.

While he appears to be the avatar of Earth itself, G ranks only so high. While Rose can’t stop the apocalypse, she can still best G in battle. Gill also makes his first public appearance by defeating G, which G seems to fully accept with open arms.

12. Rose

Rose doesn’t get her hands dirty too often, but her backstory makes it easy to calculate where she ranks among Street Fighter‘s strongest. She is Bison’s doppelganger, albeit flipped in gender and alignment. In fact, Rose is basically equal to Bison, but just when he’s in his base form. When he’s amped up his Psycho Power, there’s nothing Rose can really do to match up with him. You’d think that by now we’d see some kind of purified form of Rose where her Soul Power is off the charts, but maybe in Street Fighter VI.

11. Gill

Gill carries himself like he’s the biggest threat in Street Fighter’s world. He’s the one who controls fire and ice. He has the power to self-resurrect. He runs his own secret organization, and seems like a bigger deal than Bison because he follows him on the timeline. In-game, he’s an absolute nightmare to fight. Gill seems like he should be at the very top of the rankings.

But honestly? He actually kind of sucks. He seems to lose a lot. In canon, he loses to Alex. Capcom Fighting Evolution depicts a showdown against M. Bison where Bison reigns supreme. In the very beginning of the manga Street Fighter III: Ryu Final (Masahiko Nakahira’s works are as official as you can get without being outright canon), Gill takes a beating from Ken. Even the nature of Street Fighter III: Second Impact and its secret boss fight suggests that Akuma has a leg up on him. Gill may be able to get up from these losses, but he still gets knocked down in the first place.

10. Alex

Because of Capcom’s tendency to downplay Street Fighter III, we never get to see Alex do all that much. That’s a shame, since Alex is cool as hell and really should pop up more. He’s still defined as the hero character of the Street Fighter III games who canonically thrashes Gill, and even gets a moment in Street Fighter V’s cinematic story mode where Dhalsim tells him that he’s going to be a huge deal down the line.

But despite his role in Street Fighter’s final chronological chapter, Alex isn’t the best of the best. His ending shows that he still eats Ryu’s dust and he has a long way to go. Now that he’s gone past his need for revenge against Gill, all Alex wants is to get better at fighting so he can eventually get one over on Ryu. And if he doesn’t? He’s still having the time of his life.

9. Ken Masters

Ken may never be as important as Ryu, but the games always insist that they are rivals. No matter how much more skilled Ryu gets, Ken is still there to give him a good one-on-one. On paper, Ken should be left in the dust due to how much more driven Ryu is while Ken balances his fighting with his family and business responsibilities. But it’s actually his family that gives him an extra edge and pushes him forward. Kind of like when Spider-Man is buried under rubble and thinks of Aunt May to brute force himself out of danger.

Like Ryu, Ken has his own special, sinister form as Violent Ken. Unfortunately, that form is pretty ill-defined in and just comes off as “Ken as mind-controlled asshole.” He’s still someone Ryu can take down, just in a more reluctant way.

8. Sagat

Sagat’s defined by his losses. Ryu tore his chest apart in the first Street Fighter. Dedicating himself to rage only caused him to lose to his former pupil Adon. He eventually lost to series joke Dan Hibiki. But those losses come with an asterisk. Ryu’s win came thanks to a supernatural cheap shot. A clear-headed Sagat got his win back from Adon down the line. Sagat basically let Dan win so Dan could let go of his thirst for vengeance and learn the same lesson as Sagat.

Sagat and Ken exist as Ryu’s go-to rivals, but I’d give Sagat the edge. While Ken has always been parallel to Ryu, Sagat started with a huge lead in skill and power. It’s only over time that Ryu has been able to catch up to him, and even then Sagat’s usually depicted as such a beast that Ryu is the underdog. Well, baseline Ryu, at least.

7. Ryu

Being the protagonist doesn’t automatically make you the strongest. Ryu may be able to take down most opponents, but he’s not obsessed with being at the top of the ladder. He even has the humility to know that he doesn’t truly live up to his reputation. And itoesn’t hurt that his iconic, name-making win was achieved only after he briefly became possessed by his inner darkness and cheaply blindsided Sagat.

As shown in various Street Fighter III endings, Ryu still has a long road ahead of him. He’s great, but he’s still not a master. That may take a few more decades. In the meantime, his Satsui No Hado form is like a cheat code that lets him skip years of training and puts him over his more friendly rivals.

6. Gen

Gen is like Ryu or Akuma in reverse. He’s incredibly deadly and nigh unbeatable, but he’s long past his prime. He’s dying of leukemia, and it’s his own stubbornness that’s keeping him alive, even when regularly challenging Akuma and somehow surviving the encounters. He and Akuma are treated as ships passing in the night, where Akuma feels somewhat cheated by how he’s stuck with a weaker version of Gen while his own power only grows with time.

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In the Street Fighter games alone, Gen would probably rank a bit lower, but I’m going with the potential of the man he used to be. The UDON Comics one-shot Akuma vs. Hell even shows Gen at his strongest in the form of an apparition from the after-life. When he doesn’t have sickness holding him back, he does prove to be a bit more than Akuma can handle…for a time.

5. Gouken

Much like Rose with Bison and Ken with Ryu, Gouken is on par with Akuma when it comes to the latter’s base form. The initial story was that Gouken beat Akuma back in the day, but didn’t kill him. That just isn’t his style.

Then Akuma got stronger, beat Gouken, and murdered him with his Raging Demon attack. But by the time Street Fighter IV came around, they retconned all, revealing that Gouken was able to figure out a counter just in time, which resulted in him falling into a two-year coma instead of dying.

As the yin to Akuma’s yang, Gouken is there to oppose him and help Ryu overcome his inner-demon issues. Unlike Akuma, Gouken doesn’t really have any ultimate forms. Ryu and Ken’s master seems to have leveled off while Akuma is still shattering his limits.

4. M. Bison

It really shows how screwy Street Fighter’s lore is when the iconic M. Bison of Street Fighter II is considered Bison at his weakest. It turns out that Bison’s strongest form came before that, in Street Fighter Alpha 3. At least that explains why the guy is skinny in one game and built like a goddamn bus in the other.

Bison is a man who figured out how to weaponize his own evil, and not only expelled all the good from his soul to make himself stronger but he’s able to figure out crazy sci-fi ways to increase his power on top of that. He loves stuff with satellite lasers, or simply crashing satellites onto major cities because people freaking out and dying is like steroids to him. His downfall usually comes from trying to oppose or take over Ryu, whose purity and inner strength is enough to be Psycho Power’s kryptonite.

But that’s not Bison’s only weakness…

3. Akuma

Yes, Akuma, by definition, eats Bison’s lunch on a regular basis. He made his video game debut by just popping in and destroying Bison with one move in Super Street Fighter II Turbo. Hell, that’s canon! Despite his rivalries with Ryu, Gen, and Gouken, Akuma is 100% all about being the guy who ruins Bison’s (and sometimes Gill’s) day on a whim.

Too bad Capcom’s somewhat nerfed his accomplishments over the years. Akuma was considered the man who killed Gouken, Gen, M. Bison, and possibly Adon. Since then, all those deaths have been negated, and the Raging Demon isn’t the move above all others that it used to be. Still, Akuma gets to constantly up his game with his Shin Akuma and even Oni forms, which could probably destroy Earth itself if he felt like it.

2. Oro

In terms of traditional Street Fighter characters, the strongest is not a boss or even a villain, but a kindly old man in his hundreds dressed in rags. Introduced in Street Fighter III, the hermit Oro stands above everyone and is only conceivably beatable because he chooses to fight one-handed. Battles are just too easy when he uses both arms free, so holding back allows him to better check out who has potential to one day be on his level.

It’s hard to say who is superior between Oro and Akuma, or should I say, Two-Arm Oro vs. Oni (the UDON comic did have Two-Arm Oro completely clown Akuma but fail to kill him, for what it’s worth). In the end, I have to give it to Oro. Akuma comes off as a major threat that Ryu will gradually, but soon overcome. By the time Ryu has a shot at besting Oro, he’ll probably be sporting gray hair. He is the final finish line in Ryu’s search for enlightenment.

1. Ingrid

Ah, Ingrid. The most powerful Street Fighter character is also one of the most obscure. Ingrid was meant to be introduced in a 3D fighter called Capcom Fighting All-Stars, which was cancelled and replaced with the lazy-as-hell Capcom Fighting Evolution thatfeatured a roster of reused assets from older games as well as Ingrid in 2D sprite form. To get more bang for its buck, Capcom threw her into Street Fighter Alpha 3 MAX.

Ingrid is a cosmic entity that dwarfs the power of M. Bison. It’s more apparent in Street Fighter X Tekken, where the plot revolves around various duos racing towards a MacGuffin called Pandora. In the comic that comes with the special edition of the game, it’s revealed Ingrid herself created Pandora for…reasons. And considering the reality-breaking (albeit ill-explained) abilities Pandora has, Ingrid’s just on a different level to the classic Street Fighter cast.

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recentanimenews · 3 years ago

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Demon Slayer the Movie: Mugen Train – All Aboard

In 2020, and what I believe to be the first time ever, the highest grossing film of the year wasn’t American. It wasn’t Chinese, either, which one could reasonably expect to be the first non-American film to take the crown. No, it was Demon Slayer the Movie: Mugen Train. That’s an achievement that may never be matched. It also broke the record for home box office gross, now reigning over both Spirited Away and Your Name.

$500 million gross is a lot of cash to rake in, especially during a global pandemic. But after finally getting around to watch Mugen Train, which is essentially “Season 1.5” of the series, I totally understand why: it is an absolute crowd pleaser stuffed with action, comedy, and drama. I laughed; I cried; I may have pumped my fist and shouted “Fuck yeah!” once or twice.

But! Mugen Train is merely a very good movie. It is certainly a very good movie watching experience. What it is definitely not is a great film, and falls far short of the masterpiece status of the anime films whose records it broke. There is no single big reason for that, but several smaller ones which become evident throughout its prestigious 117-minute runtime.

* * * * *

First, as we know from the end of the first season (yes, you really should watch it), a Kasugai crow ordered Tanjirou (with Nezuko on his back), Zenitsu, and Inosuke to join Flame Hashira Rengoku Kyoujurou aboard the titular Mugen Train, which has a demon problem. Rengoku is, as most high-ranking warriors in these kinds of shows, a bit of an eccentric, but has heard about Tanjirou and Nezuko and is even willing to train him.

Their demon opponent is Enmu, a member of the Lower Six and the group’s resident “gross body horror” niche occupied by the likes of Bleach’s 12th Captain, Kurotsuchi Mayuri (or more recently, Jujutsu Kaisen’s Mahito). Enmu spends much of the movie standing atop the front of the train, talking about how much he’s looking forward to devouring its 200 passengers but never actually doing so despite having ample opportunity. Ya know, typical big bad behavior.

Enmu’s preferred way of rendering his prey helpless is by putting them to sleep. He has made four regular human passengers plus the conductor into his minions: the tickets the conductor punches contain a bit of his blood which is used to put the slayers to sleep along with everyone else. In exchange, the minions are promised wonderful dreams in which to lose themselves.

With all the demon slayers asleep, we take a look into the dreams they’re having, none of which come as much of a surprise. Tanjirou’s is a very happy dream in which he’s reunited with his family, who act like they were never slaughtered by a demon. Suffice it to say, it’s an easy dream to get lost in.

Zenitsu’s dream involves frolicking through forests and fields with Nezuko, which would be touching were his relationship with her in the show not so easily boiled down to “one-sided obsession” or simply “toxic.” Inosuke’s dream is aggressively weird and surreal, like him, but like Zenitsu and Tanjirou’s doesn’t offer any further insight into the character.

Rengoku’s does, but only because aside from a couple of brief scenes last season, we don’t really know who the guy is. What we do get is pure hero boilerplate: following in the footsteps of a former Hashira father who gave up the life and doesn’t care anymore, while having to be both big brother and father figure to his younger brother to keep him from falling into despair. Also, their sainted mom is dead.

Ultimately the dreams aren’t supposed to be particularly enlightening to us, as long as they keep the dreamers occupied and distracted. The minions then go in, find the edges of their dreams, tear them open with what look like icepicks provided by Enmu, and pass into the subconscious where their spiritual cores lie. Obviously, none of the minions succeeds.

Tanjirou already has an inkling he’s in a world of illusion, since his default thoughts are that his family is dead and Nezuko is a demon, so his senses must be wrong. His subconscious actually reaches out to him through a reflection in the water, telling him he needs to wake up, even if it’s being made very difficult to do so because it means running away from his confused and upset family.

His minion, by the way, sought relief in his dreams because in the waking world he was wasting away from Tuberculosis. When he reaches Tanjirou’s gorgeous (and very Spirited Away-esque!) subconscious, he doesn’t have the heart to go through with destroying his core. Tanjirou ends up waking up by slashing his neck with his own sword—call it the equivalent of the “kicks” in Inception that wake you up from dreams (or dreams within dreams).

Tanjirou is the first to wake up. Rengoku’s survival instinct kicks in and he chokes his minion before she can destroy his core (a very graphic depiction of violence against a woman that’s very oddly scored as triumphant) but he remains asleep. Tanjirou sees that Nezuko burned away the rope connecting him to his minion, and asks her to burn away the others’ ropes while he goes topside to meet the boss.

After exchanging some standard big-bad/hero dialogue, Tanjirou manages to behead Enmu, but of course his head isn’t really his head, nor his body his real body. Turns out he’s merged with the train, meaning the entire train his his body, with his head hidden…somewhere (the head of the train).

Enmu then continues to put Tanjirou to sleep, taking the same route as the Farscape masterpiece “Won’t Get Fooled Again”, turning the dreams into increasingly disturbing nightmares to throw the hero off his game. Tanjirou counters this by continuously slashing his neck as soon as he enters his dream.

With every surface of the train suddenly erupting with reddish-purple goo, suddenly all 200 passengers have to be protected at once. Fortunately, thanks to Nezuko burning their ropes the others start waking up, starting with Inousuke, who is ready to rumble. Nezuko slashes at the tentacles attacking passengers, but is quickly overwhelmed and restrained.

Enter Zenitsu, who gets to have a seriously badass moment with his thunder breathing assault, rescuing her from her doom. Let it be said this film does nothing to make Nezuko more of the bit character/mascot she devolved into in the anime, and outside of Tanjirou and Zenitsu’s dreams, she never speaks, which remains odd as there are plenty of demons who can talk.

All the commotion caused by Zenitsu’s thunder and lightning finally wakes up Rengoku, who has does his whole “how have I been sleeping through all this” line, and fills the cars with tentacle-burning flames (which naturally don’t affect the passengers). He orders Tanjirou and Inousuke to find Enmu’s head while he protects the passengers in five of the eight cars and Zenitsu and Nezuko handles the remaining three.

When his best water breathing technique can only tear away the flesh of Enmu’s “neck” to reveal the bone, Tanjirou employs his dad’s Hinokami Kagura breathing, which does the trick. Enmu’s real head is separated from his body (the train) and in his death throes, the train is derailed and crashes…which really should kill a lot of the passengers, yet doesn’t.

During his struggle with Enmu the minion conductor stabbed Tanjirou in the abdomen, but Rengoku quickly teaches Tanjirou how to use Total Concentration, Constant to staunch his broken blood vessel. Even so, Tanjirou is in no condition to fight anymore, with more than forty minutes left in the film. Enmu slowly disintegrates after lots of whining, including about how he was never able to enjoy his meal (which was all his fault) or rise to the ranks of the Upper Ten.

Right on cue, one of the members of that Upper Ten shows up completely out of the blue: the Upper Three, Akaza, covered in tatts and slightly resembling an evil Tanjirou with his short-cropped red hair. And while the ensuing duel between Akaza and Rengoku is pretty cool, the combat animation isn’t appreciably better than that of the TV show. More importantly, Akaza and the battle feel tacked on rather than a natural escalation of the conflict.

It also begs the question of if an even bigger demon big bad could show up willy-nilly, why couldn’t the same be true of other Hashira? The answer is, because the movie needs Rengoku to die, even though he was being set up as Tanjirou’s new mentor and big brother figure. At the end of the day, Akaza can regenerate almost instantly, while Rengoku is a mortal human of flesh and blood, and the wounds he suffers prove fatal.

The climax of the film also plays with the timing of the rising of the sun, which begins to light Akaza’s face as Rengoku tries to hold him in place so he’ll disintegrate. Instead, he flees into the forest to fight another day and provide Tanjirou with a future opponent with whom to avenge Rengoku. Like Demon Slayer reinforcements, the sun doesn’t show up when you’d think it should.

The final act consists of Rengoku providing Tanjirou the same encouragement as his little brother in his dream (and presumably in real life), as well as meeting his force ghost sainted mother, who tells him she’s proud of him (he did reject Akaza’s repeated offers to turn him into a demon, after all). Tanjirou is naturally very upset over losing another important person in his life.

As for the impact it had on me…the film just didn’t do the adequate legwork to make him anything more than a passing guest star. He had a few goofy moments, a few badass moments, and a very long death scene, and was suddenly gone, seemingly as soon as he arrived.

So as much of a funny, thrilling and sometimes genuinely moving crowd-pleaser as Mugen Train was, as a sequel to the series it fulfilled a fairly utilitarian role, establishing how tough the Hashira can be, while establishing that the most powerful demons are even tougher, on the biggest screen possible.

It also gave Tanjirou both further motivation to fight the demons, though considering what he’s lost so far, I’d say he already had plenty, as well as the direction to the next nugget of info about his pop’s Kagura, which he’ll surely pursue in the second season. Mugen Train had no shortage of faults to go with its merits, but one thing at which it unassailably succeeded was making me excited for the second season, for which my ticket is already punched.

By: braverade

#Anime #News #RABUJOI – An Anime Blog

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