#it is now minus a few of this year's shoots which were whipping more than I liked

[celamity]

Pruning the top of my apple tree at the very wrong time of year due to wind storm

[quiltedpomegrantes]

School!Alex

His uniform is always wrinkled. Messy hair. Work boots or sneakers instead of the approved dress shoes. His shirt is a tad bit small, and if he raises his hand you'll get a sneak peek of a pale stomach, in stark contrast to his tan forearms. Constantly being reprimanded for having his sleeves rolled up. He regularly misses whole days of school for harvesting. Solid B minus or C plus student.

Every school year, a teacher asks him if he's so and so's little brother. That's when you really noticed him. Most people would spit out a yes, or squint in confusion but he always looked so proud. In these moments, he'd have the widest, goofiest grin you've yet to see. He'd only nod in affirmation. The teacher would always internally groan.

Overtime, you notice little things. Like how he only has one dimple. How he has a stripe of pale skin around his wrist from a watch or bracelet. His freckles disappear with the sun. His lunches are always homemade, and typically a thermos of stew is the main course. The way he eats is so unrefined. Elbows on the table, slurping up his spoonful, and everything is gone before half the canteen has even opened their lunches. His clothes smell like the sun and like spring.

Whitney doesn't bother him. Not at all. Alex's older siblings would beat the living shit out of them if they even tried. Although. Now you wonder, with Alex's siblings long graduated, will Whitney even bother to try? If they fought, one to one, they'd be a fair match. Alex wasn't intimidating muscle wise, like Whitney. But you saw him in swim class. He was impressively defined.

Every other day, you'd think about the time you accidentally walked into the boy's locker room. Arms pinned behind his back as he struggled out of his way too tight button up. Toned tan calves lead into pale freckled thighs. More freckles dance across his chest. His swim trunks hung off his hips, giving you a peek of his groin. Red. Bright red. Curly, and thick. Almost as red as both of your faces. You guys would never talk about it. Never. You turned around, and skipped swim class that day.

He wasn't unpopular. He wasn't necessarily a popular kid either. He'd say hi to Robin, and even sat with them a few times. When he'd return or rent a book, (which rarely happened unless it was time for finals.) he'd strike up some small talk with Sydney. Kylar struck him as extremely odd, but he'd awkwardly wave. He had his friend group, mostly composed of kids who also lived in the countryside. And you.

His "favorite person." He'd always want to compare hand sizes, going on and on about how small yours were. He loves stealing whatever hair tie is around your wrist and wearing it. If it was anyone but him, you'd actively die of second hand embarrassment. But he does it with a sincerity you can't help but love.

Pangs of jealousy would shoot through you when you'd notice others looking at him the same way. One time, Robin kept going on about how sweet and charming Alex was. It took everything in you to not turn on them, or belittle them. If it was anyone else, you don't know how you would have reacted. You've liked him since you entered year six, he's all yours. When he was knobbly, lanky, and constantly teased for being a ginger. When he spoke in a country bumpkin way. When he wouldn't even think of swearing.

He was everything to you. Made your stomach clench when he'd wrap his arm around your shoulders. One time, you and his friends went to the beach. Once again, those damn swim trunks. But more than anything else, it was the way he looked at you after you finished changing. Those sincere green eyes, clouded over. His face contorted into an unrecognizable expression. Then his friend whistled at you, and Alex snapped out of it. Whipped his head around and smacked the perv upside the head. Another pause, where this time, he let his eyes slide up and down the entirety of you. A flush spread, wherever he looked, there was a sudden warmth. As if snapping back into his typical self, he ran over and scooped you up into his arms and threw you into the water. You tried to squirm out of his embrace and swatted at him to no avail. The water was cold, but when he came over and held you, the chill didn't mean anything to you.

[hyunsuks-beanie]

Magenta Lilacs

Han Jisung x reader; non idol AU; 1.5k words; super fluffy, mild crack

A/N: I've written a couple of rather angsty scenarios recently, and I figured I need a more fluff something now. And who better for a fluff than our quokka?

"How do I look?," you ask your best friend Seungmin as he helps you get dressed for your date with your crush, Han Jisung, later that evening.

You and Jisung have crushing on each other for almost a year now, and while it was painfully obvious to every single one of your friends, you two remained blissfully oblivious to the other's feelings. That is until Felix, your classmate and Jisung's best friend, locked you two in a broom closet, refusing to let you out until you kissed. The kiss was... memorable to say the least, being equal parts awkward and sweet. When Felix finally did let you out, Jisung shyly asked you out on a date. Nothing too fancy, just some coffee at the campus cafe. You guys have been hanging out frequently since that day, and today would be your fourth date. You're going to the yearly carnival, and you can't help but feel fireworks going off in your stomach at the thought of finally confessing your true feelings to Jisung, something that Seungmin has dared you to do tonight.

"If you're gonna go on your date looking like that, I'm afraid you won't be able to confess tonight, babe." You whip around at that, confused. "Because Hanji is gonna pass out as soon as he sees you," he smiles, before setting your hair properly. You shove him playfully, before saying, "I'm nervous, Minnie. What if he's not ready yet? What if the dates are just casual outings for him? What if I mess everything up?" "Hey hey hey," he says, grabbing your shoulder. "Take a deep breath. You're gonna be okay, and trust me. He's just as serious about these dates as you are. He'll be your boyfriend before midnight strikes tonight. And on that note, don't you dare stay out after midnight, young lady," your best friend says suddenly, with mock strictness, making you shake your head at his antics.

As if on cue, your doorbell rings, telling you that Jisung has arrived to pick you up. You hug Seungmin goodbye, and open the door, revealing Jisung standing there, looking gorgeous in a denim jacket with a plain white T-shirt. You catch yourself staring at him, and, once you step out of your trance, you notice that he's doing the same. You smile and snap your finger in front of him, making him scratch his neck in embarrassment. "You look really nice today, Ji," you smile. He replies, "You look very cute too, Y/N," making you blush. "Ready to go?," he asks. "Lead the way!," you say. You walk to the festival in comfortable silence, occasionally talking about random stuff. After a while, you notice that he slips his hand into yours, making you stop short. He stops too, and starts removing his hand from yours. You grip his hand tighter, while softly saying, "They fit together really well." He smiles at this, and you continue walking. Once there, you both drag each other towards different stalls that pique your interest. You bring him along to a shooting game, winning him a teddy bear. Jisung then brings you along to a flower shop, telling you about their meanings. "These magenta lilacs are my personal favourite," he tells you. "What do they mean?," you ask. "Love and passion," he says shyly. You bite your lip, just as the shop owner says, "Go on, buy them. These flowers are all the rage among young lovers these days, and you two sure make a cute pair." You both start blushing, before Jisung silently thanks the shop owner and buys a bouquet of the flowers. "Thank you, I really love them," you say. The two of you visit many other stalls. Laughing at the house of mirrors, sharing a single candyfloss, having a competition to see who can eat a plate of dumplings the fastest, you guy lose track of time, and soon enough, it's a quarter to twelve. "Let's go to the ferris wheel," you suggest, thinking back on the plan Seungmin had been feeding into your brain for the past two days. "That's funny, because I was just going to suggest the same thing," smiles Jisung. Unbeknownst to you, Felix had set him up to the exact same task that Seungmin had assigned you, with the both of them hoping that even if one of you chickens out, the other will end up confessing. With that, you get in line, and by the time it's five minutes to midnight, it's your turn to board the ride. You feel your hands shaking, but thankfully from nervousness for what's to come, but thankfully, Jisung takes your hand into his at exactly that moment, helping you relax. "What's the worse that could happen, right?," you mentally ask yourself. Your brain replies, "Oh nothing much, he could just reject you, giving you the most awkward five minutes of your life. Or, the ride could suddenly break down, killing you all." You scrunch your nose at the pessimistic thoughts, but don't have much time to ponder over them, as your ride starts. Two minutes to twelve, and you two are just sitting there in silence. This is the first time during the date that the silence has felt awkward, and it doesn't do much to ease your nerves. Once your watch strikes twelve, you turn to look at Jisung, only to find him already looking at you. "Ji, I have something-" "Y/N, I wanted to tell you-," you both start at the same time, causing the both of you to giggle. "You first," he says. "Okay, so here goes," you start, closing your eyes. "We've been on quite a few dates now, and I've really enjoyed the past month and a half of spending time with you. You're so smart, cool, funny, witty, sweet, soft, and every other good adjective, with just the right amount of loudness. I love hanging out with you, and spending time with you. Being with you makes me feel giddy inside, and I think I know what this feeling is," you open your eyes right before your big confession, but instead of your next line, you end up saying, "What?," with a confused expression. "What?," Jisung asks, tilting his head. "You're looking at me funny," you say, causing him to laugh nervously. "Oh, uhm, yeah, because I kind of, know

what you're gonna say next," he says, rubbing his neck. "You do? How?," you ask, with an even more confused expression. "Because I've been practicing the exact same lines for the past two days, minus the adjectives, of course. Because I had a different set of those ready," he says, shy all of a sudden. "Look, let me come clean," he continues, "I like you, a hell lot. And I've been trying to confess to you, so Felix created a plan for me to tell you how I feel, today at midnight. I was going to say the exact same things you said just now, and finish with a super smooth, 'A new day is just starting, so how about we make this the start of a new relationship for us, as well?,' but I guess you beat me to it." By the time he's done, you are staring at him with your mouth agape. "I was going to say the exact same thing too!! And it was Seungmin who suggested this to me," you exclaim. Just then, you both realize that your turn at the ferris wheel is over, and you get off the ride. After walking a few feet, Jisung stops you. "So, if you were going to say the same things, then does that mean you like me too?," he asks nervously. "Of course Hanji, is that even a question?," you giggle. "So what does that mean for us?," he asks with a smile. You give him a small hug, before whispering in his ear, "I guess I'm gonna start calling you my 'boyfriend' now." "I'd like that," he says, hugging you back, before taking your hand again. "In all honesty though, Seungmin and Felix are dead meat," you laugh, with him joining in.

Once the two of you stop laughing, you realize how close your faces are. You stare at him, eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips and back. This doesn't escape his notice, and he softly asks you, "Is it okay if I kiss you?," you simply nod, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that is equal parts soft and sweet. It is just like you had imagined. Your lips molded perfectly together, and he tasted like the candyfloss you had eaten earlier. You smile into the kiss, which makes his shoulders, that he didn't know were tense, relax. When you finally break away, he pulls you in for another hug, kissing your forehead softly.

"Should they be dead meet though? I feel like we should be thanking them for daring us to confess, or else I don't know how many more dates it would have taken. Although I admit, the dialog they came up with was way too cheesy," Jisung says. To this, you reply by snuggling into his chest even more. "Might as well be the reason why they don't have partners yet. But we'll think about them tomorrow. For now, you're all that's on my mind."

[peachcitt]

falling, flying

a miraculous ladybug fic

for @softkwami for @mlsecretsanta

Tags: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladrien, Adrinette, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, MLB Wing Au

Summary: 

“It’s not supposed to hurt,” she said softly. “Flying, I mean. It’s not supposed to hurt.”

His jaw worked. His mouth settled on a smile. “I know.”

or

in which marinette and adrien speed toward a foreseeable end on purpose. and also a little bit on accident

read on ao3

enjoy :)

=

Marinette felt, all things considered, that this situation was not her fault. 

Granted, she was the one who threw herself into the fight without coming up with a plan, but how was that supposed to be her fault when this akuma had started making problems exactly seven minutes before her chemistry exam? She’d stayed up nearly all night cram studying (that much, she’ll admit, was her fault), and she’d be damned if she didn’t show up on time to at least get a B minus on it. So she’d barreled into the fight without Chat because she really wanted to get this all over with. She could hardly be blamed for that.

And she certainly couldn’t be blamed for the fact that she was currently speeding toward the hard cement ground right outside a posh business building in the heart of the city at terminal velocity, hands, legs, and wings bound tight.

Sure, there was that comment she’d made to the already very upset akuma about his nose, but, well.

Okay, so maybe this situation was a little bit her fault. 

But, like, that was just the nature of being a superhero.

Sometimes, you ended up speeding toward a very foreseeable end, knowing that it’s going to hurt, but not quite knowing how to avoid it. And that’s just life, too.

Not that she was going to let herself become a smear of sidewalk gum. She had her miraculous to protect, after all, and she also had this Daedalus-damn chemistry test that she was going to get a B minus on - no, screw that - a B plus on. There was also the matter of dying at the tender age of seventeen, but that existential dread didn’t touch her as she watched her pissed-off reflection follow her down, down, down on the polished windows of the building she had been thrown off of.

It’s not like she could rely on Chat to get her out of this one. Who knows when he’d show up.

She twisted around in the air, trying to maneuver her bound arms to her hip, where her yo-yo was. If she could grab it, she could summon her lucky charm, and she could stop her fall with the help of a handy-dandy polka-dotted tube of chapstick, or something.

The tips of her fingers brushed against her yo-yo, and her arms ached. Icarus above, the akuma couldn’t have tied her arms in the front of her body? At least then she wouldn’t have to try and bend her left arm at a weird angle to get around her wings.

This, as it turned out, was becoming a dire situation.

She had about ten floors to go before she would eat cement. Her left arm was cramping, and her fingers could only brush up against the feathers of her bound wings instead of anywhere near the yo-yo. She tried to stretch her wings out, test the binds, and only ended up crying out in frustrated pain.

Well. She could always aim for a clumsy rolling landing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a shaking breath through her nose, and braced herself for the inevitable impact. The bitter cold air whipped past her cheeks, and she released the breath she was holding.

This was fine.

She’d had more than a few landings that had left her battered and bruised throughout her lifetime, and this was just another one.

Not that she’d ever fallen off of a thirty story building before, but, like, semantics. She would probably be fine.

Unless she died.

Just as the thought occurred to her, her body connected with something hard, a jolt traveling through her bones, and she sucked in a punishing breath, eyes flying open.

But she hadn’t hit cement, like she first thought. She’d hit-

She’d been caught in someone’s arms.

There was a familiar smell - mint and spice - and she relaxed into familiar arms. “Nice of you to fly by, Cha-”

The person holding her looked down, and her words caught in her throat. 

It was Adrien who had caught her. 

Not Chat.

Adrien. Adrien Agreste. Adrien with the beautiful wings he never used to fly, Adrien her classmate, Adrien with the green eyes that sparkled in sunshine and glimmered still on cloudy days, Adrien with the kind smiles, Adrien with the nice hands, Adrien with the nice hands that were currently holding her as they soared up into the air. Adrien freaking Agreste.

“Ah,” she said, and she could feel his hand, gentle, cradling her wings, fingertips light and steady on her feathers.

“I thought you might,” he started, his cheeks coloring, “uh, need a hand.”

“Right,” she said rather weakly. They stared at each other for a moment longer, and then he looked away, looking for a suitable place to land. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes following the strong line of his jaw, up the smooth curve of his cheek, over the sharp bridge of his nose. Her eyes caught on a little crease in between his eyebrows, and she frowned.

Her eyes flicked down to his lips, and she saw they were pinched tightly, as if he was in pain but trying to hide it.

“Are you-” she started, and then stopped, breath catching in her throat. His wings. She was only just now looking at them properly.

“Am I what?” he asked, glancing down at her as they landed gracefully on the next building over from the one she’d been thrown off of. He tucked his wings back in their normal, perfectly straight posture, and his pinched expression relaxed.

But she couldn’t get the image out of her mind. His wings - his golden, regal wings she so admired but had never seen spread - had been littered with spots that had been rubbed raw. Feathers falling, skin red. Raw.

“Your wings,” she said, and she felt his grip tighten on her legs, but he just as quickly relaxed, setting her down with a smile.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, moving around her so that he could untie her hands and wings. “Not really.”

“It looks like it hurts,” she said, shaking out her wings once they were free and bending down to untie her ankles.

“It doesn’t,” he said, and she looked up at him, at his perfect posture that hid his injuries.

She stood, and his gaze followed her. She reached out a hand, shaking fingers just barely brushing along his smooth outer feathers. Her eyes met his, and he took in an unsteady breath. “Doesn’t it?” she asked, and he shrugged half-heartedly, feathers bristling.

“Not usually.”

“Oh, Adrien,” she whispered, pained, and he blinked. And she remembered.

She wasn’t supposed to know him. Sure, she’d saved him a couple times with the mask on, but she wasn’t supposed to whisper his name like she knew him, like she felt for him.

“S-sorry,” she said, stepping away, and she saw, belatedly, that his hand was reaching for her. Her heart ached. “I- you- we.” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “I have to get back to the fight. You should get to safety.”

“Yeah,” he said.

Neither of them moved.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek. “It’s not supposed to hurt,” she said softly. “Flying, I mean. It’s not supposed to hurt.”

His jaw worked. His mouth settled on a smile. “I know.”

Chat showed up not long after that, and they made quick work of the akuma. Marinette avoided any more comments about his nose, rolled her eyes along to Chat’s dumb jokes, and tried not to think about Adrien.

During her chemistry exam - which she showed up ten minutes late for - she also tried not to think about Adrien. But he was sitting right in front of her, and every time she looked up to think, his wings were right there. Regal, golden. Raw.

How many people had seen his wings spread up close like that? Adrien never flew anywhere - he never had to. Perks of being the son of a famous fashion mogul who owned fancy cars and private jets. In gym, he always ran laps because of a daily doctor’s note - who knows what it said. He always took the stairs instead of flight paths, and his wings were always tucked neatly away, glimmering underneath the crappy public school fluorescents.

She tore her eyes away from Adrien’s wings, staring hard down at her test. Icarus, she’d be lucky if she scraped by with a C. Today sucked.

---

“I’m going to spend the entirety of winter break curled up in a blanket nest,” Alya groaned, flopping down at their picnic table. Marinette scooted to the side to make room, hardly looking up from her lunch. “These tests are killer. I think our teachers are out for blood this year.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nino scoffed. “I have my literature exam on lock.”

“Yeah?” Alya asked, raising her eyebrows. “And what about pre-cal?” Nino made a face. “That’s what I thought,” Alya replied.

Adrien looked away from his friends, eyes focusing on Marinette. She’d been acting strange ever since chemistry - she’d shown up late, no doubt caught up in the akuma attack just like half of their class, including him - but this quiet from her seemed more heavy than the quiet dejection of a student afraid of midterms. She kept on shooting him looks and then looking away, like there was something on his face that made her want to cry.

“How have your exams gone, Marinette?” he asked, and she jumped, not expecting to be spoken to. Her eyes met his, and she quickly looked away, a smile forcing itself onto her lips.

“Oh, you know. Terrible. But that’s fine, I guess.”

“I’m sure you did better than you think,” he assured. “We’re our own worst critics, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said, and she squinted her eyes at him, as if trying to mimic a smile reaching up to her eyes, before looking away again.

Well, he was sure she hated him.

Okay, so maybe he was overreacting.

He was definitely - probably - overreacting.

It was just something about Marinette - something about her that always made him think a little too much. He supposed it was a residual rub from the way they had met a couple years ago what with them starting off on the wrong foot, and, yes, he was aware that if he was a healthy person, then he wouldn’t still be overanalyzing their first interaction every time Marinette’s face fell in his presence, but that was beside the point.

He just.

Well. He wanted to be liked by her. And that was natural, to want to be liked by a friend, to want to be liked by someone as amazing as her.

He didn’t want to see her upset. He wanted to see her smile, as much as he was able. She had a wonderful smile, after all.

Marinette’s strange behavior extended through the rest of the week, and on the Friday before break, Adrien mustered up his courage to ask. She normally flew home, so Adrien raced up the stairs to the roof, only just catching her as she was saying goodbye to Alya. Her eyes caught on him, the same color as the bright, cold winter sky, and her eyebrows twisted in something akin to pain.

Alya followed her gaze to him, and her eyebrows raised. She looked back to Marinette, said something that Adrien couldn’t quite hear, squeezed Marinette’s arm, and then lifted off the roof, rust-colored wings causing a wind to rustle through Marinette’s hair. Marinette looked after her for a moment, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, before turning back to Adrien.

“Hey,” he said as he walked closer, and a small smile twitched at her lips - almost as if on instinct. 

“Hi,” she replied, tilting her head at him. “You’re flying home?”

“Ah, no, not today,” Adrien said, shaking his head and ignoring the itch of the binds hidden beneath his feathers. “I just, well. Uh.”

This was new. He was normally very good at talking.

Marinette watched him, gaze careful. 

“I wanted to ask,” he continued, running a nervous hand through his hair, “if there was anything I’d done. To upset you.”

Marinette blinked. “What?”

“Because,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back to avoid fidgeting, “I’ve noticed that you’re more, um, quiet around me than usual, and I” - he remembered his father normally kept his hands clasped behind his back, cold, professional, and he unclasped his hands, stuffing them in his pockets - “I just wanted to know, I suppose. If it was anything I’d done. So that I could apologize.” The air was cold, and a biting breeze nipped at his cheeks and nose. He swallowed. “I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

“I’m not!” Marinette said, hardly before he finished his last sentence, and he blinked. Her cheeks, red with the cold, became a little redder - no doubt from the new gust of wind that brushed past them both. “I’m not upset or angry with you or anything at all like that, not even a little bit! You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re perfect, I promise, I just-” She stopped, biting on her bottom lip, her shoulders travelling up to her ears. She didn’t continue.

“Is there anything I can do?” Adrien asked, and Marinette’s expression travelled somewhere between a smile and a pinched frown. 

“Just…” She trailed off, and she reached over, dainty hand settling on his shoulder. He was sure her fingers flexed, brushing along his feathers. “Have a good break, okay? Spread your wings a little bit for me.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze, and then she let go, lifting off from the roof of the school. Her pretty brown wings, speckled with white, carried her through the cold winter air, and Adrien stared after her silhouette.

Spread his wings.

Somehow, Adrien thought, Marinette always seemed to say just the things that made his chest ache.

---

Marinette spent the first half of her winter break thinking. She also spent that first half of her winter break trying not to think. She made dresses and sweaters and pants from old clothes and bedsheets, trying to keep her hands busy so her mind wouldn’t take over. She pricked her fingers more times in those first few days than she had all year.

She looked forward to Morpheusmus by making her friends gifts and dropping them off at their respective houses, determined to keep her spirits high for the holiday. 

It was winter, and Morpheusmus was supposed to be all about cheer and friendship and good dreams. Giving gifts to friends and family to encourage peaceful nights through the long dark hours, while nature slept in its cold. And she was giving her gifts with a damn smile on her face, no matter how much she kept thinking about-

She held Adrien’s wrapped gift - a warm red sweater made from the softest fabric she could find - tightly in her arms as she dropped down to the ground in front of the gates of the Agreste mansion. She dropped the package in the drop box, checking twice to make sure she’d signed her name, and then looked up at the mansion. Towering and cold, colder than the winter air.

She’d done some research, on those nights when she couldn’t avoid thinking.

About wing binding.

It was a common practice in well-off families to encourage good posture and to show off wealth. In excessive amounts, it could cause pain and long-term injury to the person binded. 

She bit at the inside of her cheek.

So, she was doing something stupid.

It’s not like she decided - right then at the gates to the Agreste mansion - that she’d do what she’d decided to do, but staring up at that awful mansion had certainly encouraged her. It wasn’t her place, to intrude on family affairs, but Daedalus be damned, she didn’t give a shit.

She lo-

She cared about Adrien. It was awful to think about him hurting, every day, all the time. She couldn’t have another friend that meant so much to her living a life of pain - not when she knew  that she might be able to do something about it. If she went in and didn’t find any bindings, then she would take her leave and that would be it. But.

But if she did find bindings, then.

Well. It was a stupid plan. A disaster in the making.

But Marinette was quite used to being a step away from disaster. 

She found it quite nice, in fact, to step close so disaster for the sake of someone else. It was a nice change of pace from her own disasters. 

---

On the last night of Morpheusmus, Adrien walked into his room from a late night kitchen raid to see Ladybug standing before his bed, arms crossed. He froze.

The moonlight stumbled through his windows, reaching out for her, just barely managing to catch its fingers on her red wings, on her dark hair. She turned her head to look at him, bright blue eyes reflecting the stars of the night,  and then she looked down at his bed once more.

He realized then that there were things on his bed that hadn’t been there before he’d left for the kitchen.

His bindings.

Each one of them, their unforgiving lines of gold-colored vines, laid out on the bed. But they looked wrong, somehow. He stepped closer, frowning, and he realized, eyes wide, that they’d all been cut apart, each and every one of them.

Ladybug watched his face as he looked over his useless bindings. “Are you wearing one now?” she asked, voice quiet through the night, and Adrien nodded, speechless. He hadn’t gotten the chance to take off the one he’d worn throughout the day. “Come here,” she said softly, beckoning closer, and he followed the sound of her voice as if on instinct.

She turned him around, and he noticed idly that she only came up to his shoulder. But he felt small, smaller than her, and she seemed to know it. But she didn’t do anything with that knowledge, like other people in his life might’ve. She simply moved her hands through the feathers of his wings, gentle fingers finding the clasps of the bindings and undoing them. The bindings fell to the floor, and he turned around, watching her bend down and pick them up.

For a moment, she seemed to consider them for a moment, so little and heavy in her hands, and then she took the pair of scissors she’d left on the bed. And she slowly and methodically cut it apart.

He shivered at the freedom.

“I’ll leave a note for your father, if you’d like,” she said, setting down the remnants of the bindings on the bed and admiring her handiwork. “Say it was me who did this.”

“No,” he said, and she looked over at him, furrowing her eyebrows. He felt his cheeks heat up. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she touched a fleeting hand to his cheek. “He wouldn’t know where to find me,” she said, and then she looked back down at the bindings, her smile turning a little satisfied. “And besides, I chose to get in trouble.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she turned her smile to him, soft and sweet.

“Merry Morpheusmus, Adrien,” she said, and she turned to leave.

“Wait,” he said, and he caught her wrist in her hand, so small and strong. She turned, raising her eyebrows. “Why?” he asked. He didn’t need to elaborate.

For a moment, it seemed like she wouldn’t answer. And then she sighed, turning and sitting down on his bed. He sat down next to her, heart racing.

“You know of my partner, Chat Noir?” she asked, and he felt himself smile.

“I might’ve heard a thing or two about him,” he said, and her lips twitched up into a smile before it faded.

“When we first met, he was absolutely terrible at flying,” she said, and Adrien raised his eyebrows. She’d never told him that before. “He was like a toddler,” she said, and Adrien bit back a retort. She didn’t seem to notice. “He was all crash landings and giddy laughter, like he was doing it all for the first time. And his wings…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“His wings?” Adrien prompted, and she let out a small sigh.

“Well, they looked like yours. Damaged. Raw.” She shook her head again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “At first I thought that was just what the miraculous did to him for his disguise, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought that maybe… That maybe outside of the mask, he probably didn’t fly.”

She paused, and Adrien ached.

“I asked him once, if it hurt,” she said softly. “He told me it didn’t. Not then. Not with the magic.”

He remembered. Remembered the way her expression broke.

“Chat gets to fly - during fights, yes - but still. He gets to fly. Without pain.” She turned her eyes to him, and he saw all the weight of the world there in her eyes. “I saw your wings, when you rescued me, and it reminded me of him. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought…” She trailed off, letting out something that might’ve been a laugh. “Sorry, it’s silly.”

“Please,” Adrien said, voice breaking of its own accord, “tell me.”

“I just thought,” she started, eyes finding his again, “that if I couldn’t help him, then I might be able to help you.”

And, like, Adrien was no stranger to the rush of emotion in his chest; of course he wasn’t. But he always chose not to act on it most days because he was always afraid - afraid of losing her. 

He leaned in.

This was a bad idea. 

She leaned in, too.

But sometimes.

Well.

Sometimes it was perfectly understandable to act on a bad idea, wasn’t it? It’s not like he could be blamed for doing so, not when she was in front of him, soft and vulnerable, powerful and beautiful. She’d given him more than he could ever have asked for, and she’d done it simply because she cared. 

This was a bad idea, but that was alright. 

Their lips met.

It was a gentle, fragile thing - their kiss. It was soft and it was hesitant, and Adrien hoped even as he didn’t that she could feel how much she meant to him. His hand reached up, and he cradled her cheek, thumb tracing along the edge of her mask. She let out a small sigh against his mouth, pushing closer.

He felt, almost, like she was trying to tell him something. Something important.

And then she pulled away, blue eyes heavy on him. She stood, and she cupped his face in her hands, something sad and indecipherable travelling across her face. She rubbed her thumbs along his cheeks, and he reached up, holding on to her wrists, loosely. He wanted her to stay. He knew she had to go.

She brushed the hair away from his forehead, and she pressed a kiss there, soft and caring. “Sweet dreams, Adrien,” she whispered against his skin, and he closed his eyes. Her hands left him, and he mourned the loss. “Spread your wings a little bit for me, okay?”

His eyes flew open, but she was already gone, his window open and welcoming in the cold night air. 

He ran to the window, leaning out and letting the wintry air bite at his cheeks as he stared after her silhouette.

“Marinette,” he whispered.

He was probably wrong.

But he didn’t feel wrong.

He felt - awfully, terribly, wonderfully - right.

---

Marinette spent the next few days thinking about mint and spice.

It’s what Chat always smelled like - not that she’d, like, made an active effort to notice. It was just that in the heat of a battle, he’d catch her or she’d catch him or they’d be huddled close and she would smell it. Mint and spice. That was what Chat smelled like.

It was also what Adrien’s room smelled like.

What Adrien himself had smelled like - when he’d caught her, falling mid-air. When he’d kissed her, sweet and gentle.

Against her better judgement, Marinette was having thoughts. And feelings.

A whole lot of feelings.

So when Adrien showed up at the bakery, wearing the soft red sweater she’d given him for Morpheusmus, Marinette had done what any rational person would do.

She sprinted out the back door of the bakery.

Was it the best possible thing she could do in that situation? No, absolutely not. She knew that. And that was fine.

She was speeding toward an end, an end she wasn’t quite sure if she would like, so she squeezed her eyes shut and pretended that she was alright with free-falling just so she wouldn’t have to look down at the fast approaching ground.

“Marinette!”

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked up at the sky, following the sound of her name. It was Adrien, above her, beautiful frame backlit by the bright winter sky. His wings looked better - still a little raw, but better.

Marinette considered running.

Adrien landed in front of her, graceful and intentional, and his eyes searched her. “Why did you run away?”

“Bug,” Marinette answered immediately, her mouth providing her with a lie. “On the cash register. A bug.”

He tilted his head at her, stepping closer, slowly, carefully, like she was a flighty bird. 

Which.

Yeah.

“You mean it wasn’t because of me?”

So that was super rude of him, to look so honest. 

Marinette let out a strained sound from the back of her throat, throwing her hands up into the air and turning away from him.

“It’s because of the- the Daedalus-damned mint!” she exclaimed, whirling around to face him again. He had a confused sort of smile on his face. “And the- the stupid spice! And your wings, a little bit- no, a lot a bit. It’s all so much- which is. Which is absolutely-” She cut herself off with a frustrated groan, shaking her head and meeting his gaze.

His eyes were so green. His hair so gold, the strands wind-blown and familiar.

“It’s all just so much like him,” she said, her voice breaking into quiet.

Something in his expression cracked open, and he smiled, bright and honest as the sun. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew it!” He laughed as he said it, throwing his arms around her and pulling her close.

“Adrien-”

“You said the same thing that night,” he said, pulling away and holding her by the shoulders, grin wild. “‘Spread your wings a little bit for me.’ I didn’t want to hope I was right.”

She felt like she was falling.

She felt like she was flying.

“You know,” she said, and he nodded, excited.

“And you know, too,” he said, “don’t you?” And she realized that she did. She’d known for a while.

“Oh, Icarus save me,” she breathed, and then she grabbed Adrien - Chat Noir, her partner, her best friend - by the collar of the soft red sweater she’d made for him, and she kissed him hard. 

And he kissed her back, just as hard. She could feel his smile, pressed up close to her mouth, and she laughed, breathing in the wonderfully familiar mint and spice.

---

Looking at this rationally, Adrien was absolutely certain this was a bad idea. His father wasn’t going to be happy about him getting a girlfriend, let alone getting a girlfriend that cuts up all the new bindings he buys with a gleam in her eyes that is, quite honestly, downright terrifying. 

However, Adrien didn’t like being rational. He did like this bad idea, though, and all it was speeding toward.

And Marinette felt far from a bad idea, she felt like soft feathers and softer kisses, gentle smiles and quick laughs. She felt like everything absolutely and totally right, and he couldn’t exactly fault himself for falling - flying toward her.

It was only natural. 

That much, at least, he was sure of.

=

hey apple i hope you loved this as much as i loved writing it (can you tell i got carried away a little bit? because i did. i totally did) and i hope anyone else reading this enjoys at least one sentence. it doesn’t really matter which one

happy holidays everyone!! i hope you’re able to spend this winter, no matter what you celebrate, safe and happy and surrouned by things you love

thank you so much for reading<3<3<3

[mangozcat]

hi hi!! It’s a request- uhm can you do a Jeno fluff where it’s a best friend to lovers and you both just slowly fall in love with each other..? Thank you🥺🥺🥺 -🦋

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. lee jeno x fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. fluff, best friends to lovers, tiny bit of angst 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. it was under horrible circumstances that you met. everything seemed dimmer, you felt unmotivated and worst of all; lonely. but then there he was, with a big gummy smile on his face, purely there to lift your spirits. it felt like fate, and if you could go back, you’d fail seventh grade all over again just to meet him.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. hi! I’m so sorry that this took absolutely ages. it took a long time for my brain to come up with a way to write a slow burn, since I’m not really good at that kind of stuff. so, I put a ton heart into this because this is actually based off of my life! I substituted jeno for my childhood friend and everything that happens in this story is very much real (minus the romance), which is why it’s so personal to me. I hope you enjoy this and that it’s not a huge let down!

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐎 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋. it had been under rather unfortunate circumstances, to be honest. having just been forced to go through with your seventh year of school again, it was depressing, especially since you had already done half of it the year before. but in a sense, you were also grateful for your lack of worth ethic in online school, because it allowed you to return during the second portion of the year and meet him.

he was cute and particularly sweet. the first things that had drawn you to him were his chubby cheeks and beaming smile. he was the epitome of child-like innocence. you noticed quite quickly from the one class you shared with him that he enjoyed mixing work and play. he was sure to ask questions about the lesson at hand, not afraid of it embarrassing him. after all, failing would just embarrass him more. but at the same time, jeno was carefree, funny, and loved to joke around to lighten the tension in the classroom.

at first he hadn’t really noticed you. he knew there was a new girl in his class and that you were supposed to be a grade ahead, but he wasn’t too caught up in your arrival like some other people were. they would bombard you with questions about where you came from, forcing you to re-explain the situation for about the eighth time within three days. after awhile, you stopped counting.

but it was when you slipped during class that he finally noticed you. it wasn’t a mocking kind of attention, nor was he laughing to humiliate you. he did laugh at the incident, but to be fair, you laughed too. and to make up for it, he even helped you get up off the floor. “some shoes need better grip,” you had huffed out, patting down your shirt. 

jeno had smiled, releasing a small laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly as he slid his foot along the slick floors, pointing out how his foot was sliding too. “it’s the floors,” he said, walking over to where the computers were stacked neatly in a pile, making you follow after him to keep up. you used him as a little guide as to what you were supposed to be doing in the class; after all, he had been there for a half a year and you were there for a mere few days. “they hardly clean them, and when they do, it’s left slick with water. so either way, it’s a lose-lose situation.”

you had shrugged during that time, simply accepting that things happen, people slip, but that you always had to get back up.

you weren’t aware, at the time, how easy it would be to fall into routine with jeno. grabbing computers together, holding small conversations during that time. and when he had to go back to his desk, he’d always shoot you friendly smiles during the lesson. the two of you even began eating lunch together and he introduced you to his friends.

they were definitely not as open to the idea of adding someone new to their friend group. you understood that part pretty well. when you were still in your correct grade, with the people you grew up with, it always felt strange when someone new joined the school. it wasn’t that you were a rude person or incapable of allowing others in, it was merely the fact that it felt odd; wrong. the group had been formed for so long that any foreigner being spotted within its’ bounds seemed off.

it took a long time to get used to, for both you and them. seeing this new face daily, beginning to get to know someone new. it was uncharted territory, or at least, it was a land they hadn’t explored since they were little. but you managed to bond, slowly but surely, with the other boys and began getting comfortable around them.

and over time, the pain of not seeing your former friends slowly eased away.

he was helping you more than he realized, especially since people had taken more to just staring at you than approaching. they were interested in you for sure; your origins, why you weren’t in the correct grade, everything about you. but no one actually put in enough effort to say anything aloud or ask questions, or simply be near you at all. they simply watched from afar.

jeno hadn’t exactly done any different, it was all circumstantial. but after your odd meeting, he put in effort to keep the friendship alive, surprising you. he was a friendly guy, not just to you, but to everyone else too. it was reassuring in a sense, to know that you had this nice guy by your side. you got to see him every morning, and he brightened your day more than he’ll ever understand.

jeno was your anchor. he always helped you do homework, helped you find your way to the classrooms that you had never visited before, or that had changed teachers. and often times, he’d walk with you to class. it was the start of a beautiful friendship, and you had nothing but your failure to thank for it.

sometime during your school years, jeno started changing. he was quickly becoming a handsome, well-mannered young man that had the hearts of young teens clenching tightly. they were all desperately whipped for him, and while you had to admit that yes, he was handsome, you had been friends for too long for it to change.

you were satisfied with jeno’s friendship and were appreciative of his comforting presence.

to put the progression of your friendship into words would be far too difficult. emotions? easy; there was a lot of hesitance, but then came happiness and this sudden feeling of peace. everything slowly became natural, and you had found yourself residing within the comfort of his arms.

“you gonna eat your fries?” you asked, looking up to see his face. sat between his legs, head on his shoulder with a book between your hands. one earbud was in your ear, the other in his. he shook his head, running his fingers through your hair soothingly and letting you reach over to steal the fries from his tray.

this was how most of your lunch periods went by. seeing as you and jeno shared one or two classes each year (excluding the one unfortunate year where you shared none), you’d spend all of your lunch period together. using it as time to bond and catch up. most of that time was spent in silence. it was comfortable. bot much was required to say aloud and it was just nice, sweet, peaceful silence.

jeno’s eyes were closed behind you, his head lolling to the gentle music running into both of your ears. he was rocking the two of you back and forth easily as you continued to read, vividly imagining the scenes from the book coming alive. you’d imagine the fierce lions and big cats jumping from the bushes and darting across the courtyard clearing, excited to taste the freedom of what they had been dreaming of; escape.

you never did understand why getting lost in books was so easy. maybe it was just because of the escape the inked words allowed you to have. but it always a fascination, an obsession of yours. words seemed to so easily get up and dance along the lines, shimmying their way into your mind and easily imprinting an image within your brain. stories were your safe zone, your getaway. they helped you collect your thoughts and rearrange them prettily upon your shelves.

you just adored books.

when jeno’s grip on you tightened considerably, pulling you back into him, you let out a small laugh. the boy cuddled his head into the crook of your neck and shook his head, making a ticklish sensation erupt upon your skin. giggling to yourself mindlessly as you squirmed in his arms, he simply smiled to himself. reaching forward, he grabbed the book from your hands.

“now that I have your attention,” he started, making you turn slightly so that you could see his expression. a beaming smile was dancing across his lips, making you mirror it. his eyes dazzled under the light of the sun and you wondered how you’d never realized how pretty his eyes were. they were dark, almost chocolate-colored. they were comforting, you noted.

“I require your assistance, m’lady.” he said cheekily, making you roll your eyes. lightly slapping at his chest, you whined out a sound of annoyance. he had adopted the formality after some play you performed in when you were kids, you being the juliet to some boy’s romeo. he knew you hated it.

“it was one play, jen!”

he grinned. nodding to himself, “yes, it was one, very interesting play that I swore to never forget. I’m simply sticking to my word!” letting out a little laugh at how utterly disgusted you seemed at the reminder of that stupid play, here shook his head; he’d let you off the hook this time. “anyways, I need help on the homework.”

huffing to yourself, you leaned out of his embrace for a minute to grab the paper out of your backpack. handing it to him, you leaned back into his arms. grabbing the earbud from his ear, you plugged it into your own as you let your senses become overwhelmed by the music.

jeno had frowned to himself, but didn’t argue as he copied from your paper.

there comes a point in everyone’s lives where they get into their first relationship. whether it’s some childish kindergarten one or a serious one in college, it happens eventually. it doesn’t have to last forever, nor does it have to be this groundbreaking first experience. it’s a relationship, that’s all.

or at least, that’s what you thought about your first relationship. there wasn’t any magic, no earth shattering love or groundbreaking first times. it was plain, you realized. you didn’t realize that relationships were supposed to be special. they were supposed to make you feel loved and appreciated, and make you feel as though you belonged. you didn’t know that. after all, how could you, when you had never truly experienced the true love of what a relationship was meant to represent?

when you saw people on tv or around campus, you couldn’t help but notice the things in their relationship that wasn’t in yours.

they held hands and exchanged public affections. your boyfriend rarely ever spared you a glance, nor did he put any effort into spending time with you. most people would be eager to spend time with the person they claimed to love. it would invoke excitement even at the mention of being near them. so how come, despite sharing four classes, there was always distance between you? over half of your day was spent together, seats right beside each other, projects intertwined because you were partners. so why did everything feel so wrong?

you liked him, you really did. but every day you regretted ever dating him to begin with. it was such a kick to the gut when you remembered that it was him who asked you out, who put so much love and care into your first date. and that at the same time, it was him who seemed to avoid your existence in general.

“y’know, staying in your bedroom isn’t helping,” you heard jeno sigh from the doorway of your room. your mom surely let him in, you knew, as you huffed at the intrusion. he glanced around at the messy space and raised a brow at it’s appearance; you were always the tidy type.

peace and quiet was never going to come, was it?

“am I not allowed to wallow in my misery?” you said, peeking your head out from under the covers, your eyes filled with unshed tears. jeno knew well enough about the incident. it wasn’t some well kept secret, seeing how public the display of anger was. your boyfriend had yelled at you in the middle of the courtyard, leaving you humiliated and lonely.

jeno only sent you a comforting smile to cover up his own frown. holding up a box of cookies, he shook them eagerly as he came bounding into your room. taking his shoes off in a hurry, he declared, “well, as long as I exist, you aren’t allowed to do anything alone!”

a small smile bloomed on your face as he crawled over your bed, resting himself behind you, atop the covers. you turned around, coming face to face with the beaming boy. sending him a small, sad smile, you finally caved in and rolled yourself into his open arms. he only patted your back, chin atop your head as the two of you shared these simple, though comforting moments together.

you both knew that your heart hurt. but at the same time, you desperately tried to cling onto the few good memories of him that you had. he still loved you, he promised he’d always love you. the reality was simply to hard to accept, and you knew that if you actually faced it, it’d only make you hurt more.

he did love you.

when your boyfriend finally broke it off with you, you were left feeling like a used toy. useless, worthless, so incredibly naive. you ended up hiding away in your room, begging your mom to not let anyone in so that you could be alone. you didn’t want to be alone, but the thought of having anyone with you also felt so miserable and embarrassing.

it had been a few days since you closed yourself off. you struggled to attend school and the rare times you actually showed up, you avoided all traces of humanity. it felt like eyes were always on you, following you around. you felt so unexplainably exposed under their gazes.

when jeno showed up at your doorstep for probably the tenth time since the breakup, you were beginning to get tired. you missed your best friend, but at the same time, you were so overwhelmed by what you were feeling. your mom was probably the smartest person in your life, so when she let him in, you were both confused but also didn’t want to question her reasons.

mom knows best, you had been told.

you could hear the padding against your stairs as he practically ran up the flight, bouncing between steps. he didn’t even bother knocking on your door before opening it, staring at your figure sprawled across your bed. tear-stained cheeks and eyes that seemed to be so far away; the windows to your confused and lost soul.

but you were surprised to see the same thing reflected in his face. he had bags beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t been sleeping. he seemed visibly thinner, almost as if he wasn’t eating properly. and his hair was messy, his clothes still what he woke up in. he was unkempt, to say the least.

the first thing he did was meet you on the bed. arms instinctively wrapping around your figure and drawing you as close as possible, though his grip remained gentle, as if he’d break you. you sniffled instantly, tears swimming in your eyes as you buried your head in his neck. he had pulled you into his lap sideways, supporting you with his arms.

“talk to me,” he whispered out into the crown of your head, showering your hair in gentle, wisp-like kisses.

“I feel,” you started, biting back the lump in your throat and fighting off the tears threatening to escape your eyes. your eyes glossed over as you took in a long, shaky breath of air. “so, so alone. my mom’s here, and I see her every morning. and I go to school and talk to people but-”

suddenly, his hands were on your face, making you look at him. his brows were furrowed, his chocolate eyes hurt. “you aren’t alone,” he said your name sweetly, surprising you in how softly it slipped from his lips. “I’m here, I always have been, and I always will be.”

and then, you realized.

he was right.

jeno had been by your side throughout everything. regardless of how much time you spent together, it never seemed like enough. always desperate for more, always wanting to taste the sweetness of the other’s presence. it was like a sweet drug, and you were no foreigner to the withdrawals. jeno was everything you realized you had been searching for.

no distance was too far, nor was it too short when it came to the two of you. he was always there to make you smile, to bring light to your days, to cheer you up. and by the looks of him, any pain you felt was almost like a dig at him too. he was your number one fan, always supporting you throughout. 

you had been searching for this perfect instance. one where your boyfriend would finally notice how important you were to him. where he would chase after you to fix what he had broken, to restore the peace between the two of. to bring the magic, the love, back to the relationship. yet, that never happened. it was merely a distant dream, one that would never be achieved or become reality.

maybe in some other universe it would be real, and you’d be happy.

but that universe wasn’t this one. this universe was far more meaningful. because despite all the pain, it lead you to him, it lead you to realize; jeno was always there. he would never leave your side. and just how he’d been banging on your door for days straight, he’d continue to do so to your heart.

lee jeno, the perfect boy that would never let you be alone. lee jeno, the childish, the brave, the sweet, the caring. lee jeno, the boy of your dreams. lee jeno was him. lee jeno was who you had been searching for, had been dreaming of, unaware of the fact that he was right by your side the entire time.

and that’s why you kissed him.

because he was the boy you had been after. he wasn’t your first boyfriend, you both knew that. but he was your first love, and that would never change.

[abarbaricyalp]

Hi! If you're still taking propmpts. SamBucky, sequel to Push All My Buttons. Established Relationship: Sam comes back home to Bucky after Riley gets shot down during a mission and is a complete mess. Bucky comforts him to his best ability.

Friend. Friend. Friend. Why.

This is a sequel to Push All My Buttons. You don't necessarily need to read it to read this. This one is certainly not the same kind of fic.

CW: Severe suicidal ideation, discussions of grief, loss, and trauma, discussions of suicide

Link in the reblog

Excelsior

Bucky had nine months with Sam and Riley before they shipped out with the wings. He and Sam had been sleeping together for that entire time minus three days and they’d been dating for about two weeks less than that. As Riley had always said, ‘When you know, you know. Even if all you know is that they’re an irritating little shit.’ Which is what he thought both Sam and Bucky were, especially together.

It had been a really good nine months.

They shipped out late afternoon on a Saturday and that was a very bad month.

Bucky wasn’t military and Rhodes had left with the project and taken on his duties again elsewhere. Stark, in his own haze of being left alone, did not fill Bucky in on any developments with the wings, if he was even asking Rhodes.

The only thing Bucky got was the occasional phone call or text, in which Sam could barely talk about anything to do with the wings. Well, those and the program Bucky had on his computer. It was just the monitoring datastream for the jetpacks, essentially a condensed readout of what showed up on the wristlets. BPI and vitals of the wearers, elevation, fuel reserves, GPS, temperatures, difficult to decipher radar readings.

Bucky kept up with the readings religiously. He slept in his office space more often than not and scrolled through the information every morning when he did leave. So he was there at 6PM when the reading came screeching in. It was nearly a year to the day that they’d shipped out. It was a Friday. Bucky was actually packing up to go home and shower for once.

The program lost its mind the same way the wristlets would be. EXO-7 Suit 2 had lost all BPI and dropped elevation until… It hit the ground and went off line.

Bucky was pretty sure he passed out because he opened his eyes and he was on the ground, staring up at the fluorescents. There was almost no way to know for sure which pilot was in which suit. Suit 2, the Redwing suit, was usually Riley’s, but there was nothing to say that Sam hadn’t grabbed it that night. It would be about 2.30 in the morning over there. Mission like that could’ve been last minute. Could’ve taken them right out of bed. They could’ve grabbed whatever was closest. And Sam and Riley shared everything down to toothbrushes.

Bucky could comb through the data from the minutes previous. Try to rationalize out the BPI readings and find patterns, but the point of it being Sam and Riley was that they were similar pilots. Their build, their resting heart rate, the way they jumped into action. It was like watching twins move. Their readings weren’t different enough to prove anything, even if Bucky could make his arms and hands work enough to scroll back.

The other suit was still online. It dove halfway down before stopping as the radar lit up with projectiles. Again and again, like a bird dashing into traffic for another’s dead body, Falcon tried to get down to Redwing against enemy fire.

Bucky snatched his computer from its dock and raced to the elevator. His hands were shaking so badly he hit a few numbers below. The elevator went up to 88 and Bucky jabbed the door close button over and over. 89. 90. 91.

Bucky burst out on floor 92, tried not to think about the fact that just looking at elevator buttons had made him start crying, and ran towards Stark’s workstation.

“Call Rhodes!” he shouted and didn’t give a shit about the tears in his voice. “Call Colonel Rhodes right now.”

Stark sprawled upright, having apparently been asleep, and reached for his phone before narrowing his bleary eyes at Bucky.

“Barnes? What’s going on?” he asked.

Bucky set the computer down on a mess of other electronics. “One of...one of… Fuck!” A sob ripped its way out of his throat and he angrily swiped the heel of his hand across his eyes. “One of the suits went down. Someone...someone…”

“Shit,” Stark said and grabbed the phone again. He scrolled through the data reports and flinched which made Bucky snatch the computer back to look at what he was seeing. It was the radar report for Redwing. A large, explosive projectile had been launched into radar zone just before the suit fell. Bucky dropped the laptop and it landed lid first in a box of papers but didn’t shut so he still saw the WARNING WARNING WARN--

“Rhodey,” Stark said. “Rhodey, what’s going on on that end? No, I said I’d stay out of it if-- I don’t care. I’ve got-- Rhodey don’t you--” He fell silent but Bucky could hear Rhodes speaking on the other end. Stark kept shooting glances at Bucky and flinching like he didn’t have control of his body. “Alright. Thank you. That wasn’t so hard. Yeah. Yeah. No, I won’t tell anyone. No, not even Barnes,” he said. “Yes, especially not Barnes.”

He hung up and then looked at Bucky. “I’m not telling you this. It wasn’t Sam.”

Bucky fell back to the ground, catching himself on his knees this time. His arms were too heavy to pick up and the tears were falling even faster now that he knew Sam was okay. Because if Sam was okay that meant that Riley… That meant that Riley… That meant that Riley was wearing the Redwing suit.

Bucky curled into himself on the floor and screamed until his throat went sore. Stark, bless him, did not try to comfort him. He fell forward enough to press his forehead to the tile and shouted again, banged his fists on the floor and then buried them in his hair instead.

He did not go home.

Stark gave Bucky a cot to keep in his office. Bucky learned to live on it while he stared at the computer screen. That night, Sam had given up on getting to the ground and had to retreat. The suit was taken off and it had been quiet since. That did not stop Bucky from staring at it. One night, it pinged a reading--something like 3 PM their time--and Bucky watched the jetpack get taken up into the air. Higher and higher and higher and higher. Higher than he’d ever meant for them to go. High enough that he started to worry for whoever was wearing it. They were running out of oxygen. It better not have been Sam.

Then the wings retracted and the suit plummeted. Bucky nearly knocked his computer over jumping up. There was nothing in the vital readings to suggest the pilot had lost consciousness or suffered any medical episode. They were just falling. And it wasn’t a mechanical malfunction. The wings had been pulled in.

The pilot was letting themselves fall.

It better not be Sam.

Bucky was really going to watch another one die. He was going to see Sam k*** himself.

The pilot opened their wings ten feet before impact and soared back up, looping around one and then landing heavily on the ground.

The wings came back off.

Sam did it four more times, once each night, before the wings came off and stayed off.

That’s when the GPS started to move.

Two days later, Bucky was at an airport.

It had been slightly more than a week since Riley died. Riley died. Riley died. The words were wrong in Bucky’s head. His tongue rejected them without even trying to say it.

Here’s what Bucky knew about Riley. He knew Sam and Riley had known each other since their first tour. He knew that they took their education leave at the same time, went to the same school, and lived together for the three years it took them to get a degree. He knew Riley knew Sam better than Bucky did. He knew Sam had a sister who loved Riley like another brother. He knew Riley loved Sam like his own brother and Sam loved him back.

He knew that in the nine months he and Sam had been dating, he’d really only give himself six, maybe seven of those because Riley got the rest of the time and half time for the months Bucky did claim. He knew Sam called Riley before he called Bucky when he was upset. He knew Riley was such a good fucking guy and so important to Sam that that didn’t even make Bucky jealous.

He knew that Riley didn’t like coffee unless it had been turned into a sweet drink and had whipped cream on it. He knew Riley was from the middle of nowhere and sometimes talked like an obnoxious parody of a cowboy when he was tired or drunk and definitely when he was both. He knew he was a baker. He knew he liked poetry. He kept books in his army bag.

But even if he didn’t know that and nine months worth of other things, the only thing he needed to know was that Sam loved Riley more than he loved breath in his lungs or wings on his back. He loved Riley to the point of giving up concert tickets because Riley got sick and couldn’t go. He loved Riley enough to listen to bad country music in the car. He loved Riley more than he loved sex, if the number of nights he cut out on dates or netflix and chill to pull Riley out of a bad decision was anything to go by.

Sam loved Riley, Riley loved Sam, and Bucky loved Sam so Bucky loved Riley.

And Riley was dead.

Bucky had paced a hole in the floor waiting on Sam. His flight had been delayed three times already and they were two hours past the first arrival time. Energy and despair and hurt thrummed through his body and Bucky couldn’t dispel it no matter how hard he tried. He’d tried to use the gym at the tower. He’d tried to run it off. He’d tried to eat. Tried to not eat. Tried to sleep. Tried to not sleep.

Okay, that one he didn’t need to try to do. He just didn’t sleep.

It remained, locked around his heart and his head.

Sam was coming back on his own. They apparently hadn’t been stationed with a real unit, so there was no one else to send home. Even if they had been with a real unit, Sam was the only one who needed bereavement. So there was no sea of camo or cropped hair to alert Bucky that Sam was coming.

One second he was alone in his grief, the next second Sam was stepping off the elevator. They met halfway across the floor. Bucky was surprised there wasn’t a noise as they crashed together, arms coming around bodies, faces pressed to shoulders, tears escaping again. Sam wasn't in his fatigues or civvies. There was nothing distinctly airforce about him, so they were just two men losing it in each other’s arms and no one knew the depth of it.

Bucky thought about apologizing but there was nothing to apologize for. There were no words to do so anyway. So he just held onto Sam, one hand coming to the back of his head to hold him close. Sam sobbed once, twice, and then collected himself.

Bucky had no idea how long they stood like that. He could’ve stayed for days longer. The hole in his heart was still very much so there. But the luggage turnstile next to them had turned on and off four times and Bucky really wanted to get home and cry in private.

“Baby, let’s go,” he murmured softly, kissing Sam’s chin and then his cheek. “Let’s get you home.”

“I-I-I need to get to our storage unit. I need to-to sort his things,” Sam hiccuped without lifting his head.

“Later. Not right now. You’re coming home with me, alright?”

Sam nodded and wiped his eyes on Bucky’s shoulder. He lifted his head and actually looked at Bucky for the first time all afternoon.

“Hey,” Bucky breathed, brushing his thumb over Sam’s cheek to catch other tears.

Sam held his wrist and kissed his palm. “Hey.” He leaned down to kiss Bucky, tentative at first and then Bucky remembered that he’d thought it was Sam who’d gone down in Redwing for three minutes. He’d watched Sam free fall hundreds of meters to the sand below over and over. He’d almost lost him so many times. And Bucky crashed into him all over again and Sam pushed back. New tears fell, mingling together against their noses and lips and pressed cheeks.

“I can’t lose you,” Sam breathed into Bucky’s mouth. “Not you too.”

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” Bucky said.

Sam’s mouth slid off of his, anguish on his face again. His forehead leaned against Bucky’s temple. “He’s gone, Buck. I couldn’t even look for…”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and saw Falcon dashing through enemy fire. “I know, Sam. I know. You tried.”

“Not hard enough. I saw it on the radar before he did. I was going to call out but I…I didn’t, Buck. I didn’t say anything.”

Bucky had nothing to say to that so he wrapped Sam in his arms again. “Let’s go home, Sam. There’s nothing else we can do here. Just breathe for me. Come on.”

Bucky grabbed Sam’s bag and lead him out of the terminal.

Sam slept on the floor, which was fine by Bucky. Something about how beds were too soft. After a week on a cot, Bucky might’ve thought the same thing. So he shoved his coffee table out of the way and threw all the pillows he owned on the floor and laid down several blankets and they slept on the floor.

Sam barely spoke the next day.

He went through the motions of washing dishes after Bucky made breakfast. It was just cereal, so there was little to clean up. He turned on the TV and let it play a documentary about the oceans. It played all day. Over and over. Bucky was pretty certain he could ask Sam anything about it and Sam wouldn’t be able to answer. He ate barely half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. He read a book of poetry on the floor all afternoon. He ate dinner and Bucky washed the plates.

The second day was much the same, but then Sam was agitated. He flipped through shows and got mad when he couldn’t figure out what to watch. He slammed doors when he left rooms. He threw the pillows and blankets on the couch when he lost his phone, which he hadn’t been answering at all anyway. Bucky had left it plugged in on the arm of the couch. They skipped dinner that night and sat on the couch with the TV off and Sam laid in Bucky’s lap and cried again. They fell asleep like that.

The third day, Sam got up and made breakfast. It was cereal again. Bucky put on music. Sam washed the clothes in his bag. Handed Bucky a beautiful leather bracelet he’d picked up when they’d first landed overseas. Gave him another box and managed to say, “For the birthday he missed,” before he dashed to the bathroom and got sick. Bucky left the box on a bookshelf and went to Sam’s side, rubbing his back and massaging his neck. The gift was a jean and sheepswool jacket. They skipped dinner again.

The fourth day, they sat on the floor, staring at the bare couch. Bucky got tired of counting how many buttons had gone missing, so he said, “You have to talk about it.”

Sam choked but didn’t run for the bathroom. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sam, you can’t keep it bottled up. Listen, after I got back from…”

“You wanna talk about things we should talk about: how’d you lose your arm, Bucky?”

“This isn’t about me. And I was just about to tell you that when I got back from my mission, I had to do a shit ton of therapy. And I hated it. And it took me a really long time to start being honest, but once I did, it helped me recover more than getting a new arm did.”

“How’d you lose your arm?”

“I saw him go down. I saw all the readings.”

“That’s not the same thing. I watched my best friend…” Sam gagged again and brought his hands up to his mouth. Tears filled his eyes and Bucky was sure it was a combination of getting sick and being upset. “I watched him die. I don’t know why I even thought I could find a body. I could… Fucking pieces if I’d gotten to the ground. That would’ve been it.” Bucky flinched and Sam zeroed in on it. “That what you wanted to hear, Barnes? Is that what I needed to say to heal myself? My best friend is dead. Maybe his body could be cold before you ask me to fix myself.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s not what I was saying, Sam. Don’t attack me. I’m on your side.”

Sam stood suddenly, swayed on his feet, then found his balance. “I’m going to shower. Please just...give me time to myself right now.”

Bucky dropped his head to the couch.

The fifth day, they were both called into Stark Tower by Rhodes.

It was too early, Bucky thought, to ask Sam to do more debrief. It was too early to ask him to face the world. Bucky had laid on his sister’s couch for two weeks before he could so much as answer the door when he got back.

Sam was in a mood again. Actually, the mood hadn’t ever lessened from the afternoon before. It was back to the silent treatment and if Bucky did push him to say something, he’d be cruel and biting, over descriptive and intentionally mean. Nothing at all like Sam. Or maybe, just like him. This was, after all, Sam at his lowest. How was Bucky to know what that looked like? The only man who could’ve told him was dead.

Bucky had called ahead and had two of the strongest, plainest black coffees waiting in the lobby of Stark Tower for him and Sam. Anything that wouldn’t smell like Riley. They got into the elevator alone and Bucky passed Sam one of the coffees. The doors closed and before Sam could reach over and choose floor 92, Bucky selected 2 - 91.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam asked. It could’ve been a snarl if the day hadn’t already been so long. If they hadn’t already argued about Bucky wearing the jacket Riley had given him. If Sam hadn’t knocked a glass off the coffee table and shattered it on accident then cut his fingers picking up shards. If Bucky hadn’t slept in his bed like a normal person.

“We have to talk,” Bucky said.

“I don’t...fucking want to talk,” Sam said, trying to double click the floors like something said would unhighlight them. It didn’t. The doors opened on the second floor.

The doors shut. “I saw what you did the days after Riley died.”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Sam snapped, like he hadn’t told Bucky this morning about the blood that had been on his suit when he landed.

“I saw you free fall. Over and over. I watched that, Sam.”

Sam’s jaw steeled and he stared at his reflection in the stainless steel siding. “I free fall all the time. It’s one of the things we learn how to do.”

“Not like that, Wilson. You went into the fucking atmosphere. There’s no telling what the wings would have done at the speeds you were clocking.”

Sam’s mouth remained a straight line.

“You could’ve died,” Bucky said to get it out there.

“Good,” Sam said, ripping off the bandaid.

The doors opened on the fifth floor. “Don’t,” they both said to the woman who tried to step in.

“I’m still here,” Bucky said.

“I know. And I’m sorry I did that. I’m sorry I felt that way. I’m sorry I still feel that way. I can’t make myself stop.”

Bucky swallowed hard and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Sam...I tried too, alright? You don’t… I haven’t told you the whole story about my discharge and I will one day. This isn’t the day for that. But my story isn’t clean. Not even close. And I tried it too. I thought that’d be a lot simpler than the bullshit I was about to go through. I thought it’d be a justice for the people involved in my story.”

Sam looked at Bucky sharply, eyes red, tears wet on his cheeks.

“It wouldn’t’ve been. So I need you to tell me what’s going on and how we can fix this.”

Slowly, the fight seeped out of Sam’s shoulders. Common ground at last. A shock to his system. A bitter, bitter win for Bucky for the time being. Sam sank down and stared at his coffee cup. “I’ve known Riley for over a decade. More than anyone else in my life who ain’t blood.”

Bucky sat beside him. The elevator stopped on three floors.

“I’ve known him for a third of my life. The first serious third. I think I grew up more with him than anyone I went to school with. I’ve never had to do this on my own. He was always right next to me. I haven’t made a decision without asking him since I decided to sign up.”

“So, poor track record of making your own decisions,” Bucky joked softly.

“I was going to let myself do it,” Sam whispered then. “I wasn’t going to pull the wings back out.” Bucky’s heart went cold and still in his chest before roaring back to life. “I’m sorry you could see the readings. I didn’t know that.”

“I’m not upset I saw it. I’m upset that you felt the need to do it.”

Sam looked over at him. “Sure, but let me ask, what stopped you from following through?”

Bucky stomach twisted painfully. It was his turn to get nauseous. “I didn’t want my sister to find me. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Sam nodded. “If I know you might be watching those readings, I won’t be able to do it again.”

Bucky nodded and brought the coffee to his lips. It scorched his mouth and throat and he didn’t taste it all but the point wasn’t the taste. The doors opened on the seventeenth floor.

“We’re going up,” Sam said in a quiet voice.

The doors closed.

“He was my friend too,” Bucky said, voice raw. “You can talk to me about him.”

“I know that. I’m just not in the sharing mood right now.”

The doors opened. Closed. Opened. Closed. Opened. Closed.

“I fell off a train,” Bucky said. “I told you my SpecOps mission was in the mountains. I was knocked out of a moving train going around the side of a mountain and I… I’m not really sure how it happened. I might’ve reached out for the cliff face. I might’ve just hit it on the way down. I didn’t have my arm when I woke up on the ground.”

“Well, shit, maybe a bear ate it while you were out.”

“Nah, the doctors said it was too smooth. It was ripped off all at once.”

Sam flinched and then closed his eyes.

“I actually had a little bit left. I dunno, half of my upper arm, maybe. It was removed later. So, I guess it wasn’t that smooth and pretty. You know what I remember most?”

Sam hummed without lifting his head.

“I remember the jacket I was wearing. We’d been undercover when we were called into action. I was wearing a beautiful jacket that I’d picked up somewhere when the mission was still an adventure and not a nightmare. And I remember laying in the snow, looking at all that blood and my missing arm and being upset that my jacket had been ruined.”

Sam snorted and then lost the battle against sobs again. He set the coffee aside and moved over to hug Bucky, crying into his shoulder. Bucky wrapped his arms around Sam and kissed his hair. “We’re gonna get through this, Sam. You’ve just gotta trust me to hold you up. And you’ve gotta trust me to be on your side. I’m not gonna say shit to make you follow the rules or whatever. I’m gonna say shit that helped me, rules be damned.”

“I miss him so much. It’s only been five days. How am I supposed to go seventy more years without him? I’ve called his number a hundred times already and no one ever picks up.”

Bucky rubbed Sam’s back and nodded. “I know, baby. C’mere.” He pulled Sam more into his lap. Sam clutched at his shirt with trembling fingers “I’m gonna be right here. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I feel so fucking alone.”

“You’re not, Sam. I’m right here. I’m with you.”

Sam pressed his face further against Bucky’s neck and Bucky felt his tears, cool and heartbreaking. He didn’t have words. He just kept rubbing his hands over Sam’s back, kissing his temple and his hair and saying, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.” Hoping Sam would hear him through his grief and believe it.

He held him for forty more floors and they cried together. The elevator continued ever upwards. They pushed forward ever onwards.

“I’m right here,” Bucky said as the doors opened on floor 92. Sam nodded against his shoulder and slowly stood up.

Upwards and onwards.

[writersrealmbts]

Con Amore: Part 4

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or ‘lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 07/24/2019

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 1,959 words

A/N: Well, at least people are reading it. Are you guys at least enjoying it?

“A light priestess?” Jimin looked surprised. Taehyung looked confused. “She runs a sort of temple or sanctuary, she brought one of the healers when we made our escape from the hospital three years ago,” You told Tae. His eyes lit with recognition and he nodded. “Anyway, she got word that the people who took Jin did so in a misguided form of protection. He was being tracked down by the agents of the Oasis Initiative.” Tae’s head jerked back up. Yoongi took a deep breath. “And the people who have Jin?” You shifted. “Have any of you heard of the Conservatory?” “Whispers here and there,” Namjoon tilted his head, “But nothing substantial.” “Jin-hyung talked to me about it once, after someone asked me if I wanted to improve my abilities. They said they wanted me to join,” Jimin replied. You nodded a little. “They’re a training school. Sort of. They’re good for some things, but there’s corruption and poisonous teachings as well. It can feel like a sanctuary to someone without direction, and prison to those who know their purpose. I…I went there to hone my fighting abilities right after my parents…well, my mom…” Jungkook wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You sighed softly. “Anyway, when I got out I made sure they couldn’t trace me and then I started striking out on my own. I never wanted to go back. They tried to recruit Nightingale, but I’d found out even more about them and basically threatened the school and the dean. When everything was going down, our first mission together, I went back. With Jin.” “The files,” Jimin murmured. “Yeah. Anyway, Jin went there too. Long enough to become an instructor known as Siphon. They kidnapped Jin to protect him. The Conservatory might be the best place to fight the Oasis group.” “Okay, and what if they don’t agree?” Yoongi asked warily. “You just…you’ll have to trust me, okay?” You looked into each of their eyes. “I’ll go first, then—no. That won’t work. We’ll have to go together, but you have to let me do the talking.” “Okay. Now is there anything else we should know before we go?” Namjoon asked, careful not to use his power. You took a deep breath, nodding. “There is one thing.” “Yea?” Tae looked surprised. “Mmhmm. I’m pregnant.” They all froze. “Which actually explains a lot, like why I’m so weepy when I’m stressed, smell aversion, why I’ve been so tired—I mean, the past few retrieval missions have been way more exhausting than usual—and, the piece de resistance, the nausea.” You rubbed your temple. “Stress tends to aggravate the symptoms.” “Are you kidding?” Hobi asked. “Because if you are, it’s not funny.” “The test is on the counter in the bathroom. And it really isn’t funny. The timing is crappy and I’m absolutely terrified because I know I can’t fight this time, but I also need to see Jin safe and see all of you together.” Hoseok gently cupped your face and kissed it. “I love you so much, Tinny. It’s going to be okay. We’ll protect you and our baby and…” He choked up and seemed to decide that kissing you was the only option he had. The others were still too stunned or conflicted to react, all gathered around the positive test. “Okay. It’s going to be okay. We have a plan. Her and Tae in the safe-house, while we fight….” “Namjoon, first we need to go to the Conservatory. Then after I’m assured you’re all okay, I’ll stand as far from the fighting as possible. We need to pack up and move on, though.” You eased a crutch under Jimin’s arm. “Jungkook, help Jimin. Hoseok, help Namjoon. I’m going to change. Tae, can you check us out of the hotel?” He nodded, gathering the room keys while Yoongi made sure you had everything. You switched to your signature fighting suit, making sure Yoongi hid it from people before exiting the hotel. Jimin was sitting across Hoseok, Jungkook, and Namjoon in the very back seat. You chewed your lip, trying to figure out how Yoongi and Tae would fit into the small car. It was another reason you had wanted to trade in that vehicle for one that was more spacious, but all of you had thought that having one car that got good gas mileage was a good idea. So, of course, the vehicle you used when trips didn’t take you out of the country or a few days drive away was the stupid sedan. For a second you were almost glad that all seven of them weren’t there, then your anger toward the Conservatory and the Oasis Initiative roared up. Yoongi gently moved Jimin so that he was only on Jungkook and Namjoon, climbing onto Hoseok’s lap. Tae got into the front passenger seat as you started the car up, out of breath and slightly annoyed. “Lady wouldn’t shut up. But we almost have enough points for a free night in one of the hotel branches.” “Wonderful. Seatbelt.” “Huh? Oh.” You whipped out of the parking space, humming no particular tune as you tried to think of what may lie ahead. You were glad you had canceled your job for today with an excuse of getting strep throat. You slammed on the brakes, ignoring the protesting squeaks and grunts from behind you. “Forcefield.” The weapon was leveled at the car and you grasped at the shift. “Forcefield,” You squeaked again. Jungkook finally understood, thankfully, but the car still moved with the explosion. You slammed on the gas, heading straight at the jerk trying to kill you and almost all of the people you care about before the flames and smoke dissipated. There was a satisfying thud, and the windshield had a webbing of cracks in it from him rolling over the car. “Damn, Tinny,” Hoseok muttered. “Glad we didn’t leave any later. You okay?” “Just glad the airbags didn’t go off. Joon, a little warning would have been nice. “I was just about to warn you when you hit the brakes. We’re still in trouble.” “Take a left,” Yoongi instructed. You did as told, pulling the map from the console. “Tae, find the nearest hot pink mark on there. It’ll be our transport point.” “Right,” He started searching. “Phones off, batteries out?” Yoongi asked. “We better,” You agreed. Tae tossed your purse back to them, causing Jimin to hiss in pain, then he made a triumphant sound. “Got it.” “Good.” You moved your seat back. “Switch me. 3, 2, 1.” Taehyung transported both of you into each other’s seat and hit the gas. You started mentally sifting through storage to find both the object you would use as leverage against the Conservatory, and the object you would use as a peace offering, if need be. “Chim, how you feeling?” “Carsick,” He grumbled. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” Tae replied, taking a right turn. “Joon?” “I don’t sense any danger right now. Yoongi?” “I think we lost them. I don’t think they expected their first plan to fail.” “Then we need to drive under the radar. Yoongi, hide us.” “Baby, you okay?” Hoseok asked, sounding concerned at your distracted voice. “Looking for something,” You murmured. “Got it. Remember, when we get there you have to let me do the talking. They will target every weakness, so don’t give them any more than we already have. And for now, don’t say a word about me being pregnant. Act as if the walls have ears unless I tell you otherwise, because they very well might. And whatever happens, don’t go into section 36. If they try to take you there, you fight for all you’re worth because fighting them is much easier than fighting what waits there.” “Should I shift?” “I think so. Something small. We’ll need Kook to help Joon.” Tae drove into a surprisingly rural area, pulling onto a dirt road. “We should ditch the car.” “We need to burn it,” Namjoon said. “Stop here, then. Everyone out. We’ll walk the rest of the way to the transport point.” You unbuckled and got ready to take Jimin “Yoongi, can you report it stolen?” You asked, getting out of the car, but holding onto the door as another wave of nausea washed over you. “Yeah, give me a minute.” Hoseok handed you Jimin once you nodded that you were okay. Yoongi finished the call. The boys went through the car, pulling out everything even slightly useful and shoving it into a duffel bag that Hoseok slung over his shoulders. They left in the papers that one would normally find in the car, and an umbrella, for authenticity, along with the car keys minus a few of your special keys. “So, how bad is this really going to be?” Yoongi asked in a low tone while Tae, Hobi and Jungkook worked to set fire to your car. “Well, first we have to hope that they don’t just shoot us on sight.” “Oh.” “It’s not likely, but they may be easily startled. Hence me doing the talking.” “Right. So it’s for everyone’s safety.” “Exactly. Plus I want Jungkook to have us in a forcefield, if you’re okay to do that?” You looked to him. Jungkook nodded. “That’s easy.” Namjoon came over from the tree he had been leaning against, limping slightly. “You said your friend, the light priestess, was sending one of her people to confirm things?” You nodded, mind worrying over who the man could be and what kids might be in trouble. “Once we get into the conservatory I may have Taehyung and Yoongi head to the children’s homes where we’ve identified supers and pull them. Take them somewhere safe.” “Such as?” “Maybe the Temple. I’m not sure right now.” You felt like you were forgetting something important, but couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Maybe something in the archives that could help? Or maybe it was something you had been taught about the Oasis Initiative? Jungkook ducked under Joon’s arm, supporting him so that he didn’t put weight on his injured knee. Yoongi led the way down the road after Taehyung showed him the map, more than likely checking all around to make sure no one was watching. You kissed the top of Jimin’s head, stroking his fur with your nose. “You okay, Jimin-ah?” He meowed and rubbed his face into your arm. You took that as a yes, because even if he wasn’t there wasn’t anything you could do for him. “Is that it?” Taehyung asked, pointing ahead. You nodded. You all gathered around it, and Jungkook prepared to put a forcefield around all of you. Then you all entered the portal as one. Jungkook put the forcefield up. “State your business!” A guard from the Conservatory had a weapon leveled at you. “My name is Nightingale, and you have something of ours. I request an audience with the dean,” You said in a sing-song manner that would hopefully make them less trigger-happy. “And why should we believe that?” “Because I bet Siphon hasn’t exactly been cooperative and he will once I talk to him. Also, I have something she might be interested in.” He consulted with the other guard by his side. “Fine, but one wrong move and we shoot all of you!” “Sounds fair,” You replied, knowing that they wouldn’t get very far if they tried. “Lower your weapons.” They did so reluctantly. You nodded slightly and strode purposefully behind the guards. The sight of the building only made you want to run away, but the promise of seeing Jin again was pressing at your heart and forcing you forward. He was so very close now.

~~~~~

Part 3.   Part 5.

Masterlist.  ~  Series Masterpost.  

[whitewolfbumble]

Those Unspoken Years (Sam Wilson x Reader, One Shot)

Summary: You, Sam, and Riley were a team, but because you had failed on that one fateful mission, everything changed. Back home, you were still trying to work through your guilt when your old partner shows up and faces you again.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Death, PTSD, survivor’s guilt, language, some angst liberally peppered in!

Word Count: About 3.5k

A/N: This was an Anon Request for Sam Wilson: “Hey so I was hoping if you could write fanfic with sam wilson and reader, they were like great mates in army and they reunited again, you know something nice, maybe a bit angsty. It’s just there are not so many sam fanfics and I think he deserves so much love. Thank you in advance” I hope you enjoy love! It’s certainly a little bit intense in spots! Forgive me any ignorance for the army stuff... I am chill Canadian and not really into that kind of thing! lol

MY MASTERLIST // SEND A MARVEL REQUEST

“Ten miles out, sweeping the target zone.” you said into the comm.

Your boys were up there, already in position, waiting for your word. It was the second last mission before you left back to HQ then home. After this one you were air support for a convoy. Basic. An easy send off to a challenging and rewarding few years together as a team.

You were the 58th squadron, an elite pararescue team, skilled in the EXO-7 Falcon proto-type. No one was better than your team was.

The three of you had been a unit for three years now: training, living, surviving, and kicking ass together. You hadn’t expected it to be easy, but the three of you clicked faster than you thought.

You were their commanding officer. A woman, trying to keep in line two young flyboys with egos and attitudes too big to fit into a jet plane, much less a jet pack. But your own attitude rivaled most men and you had the added benefit of giving the orders here. Eventually your relationships eased into ones of respect and devout trust once they realized you were always right, you would always keep them safe, and you were definitively not without humour yourself.

By now, you actually loved these two jerks.

“Skies are looking good up here... I’m really going to miss this.” Riley said wistfully.

“Don’t worry soldier, the sky happens to be pretty well all over the world so youre in luck.” you teased.

“Ha, ha.” he said drily.

Though your voice was light and easy, your eyes were scanning the screens in front of you, bunkered down in a big canvas tent, boots digging into the sand underneath you. Your base of operations was wherever you needed it to be, and today it was in a scalding hot hidden inlet on the edge of a pile of rocks. Hidden from view, you stayed focused on the images in front of you, your two flyboys little blips on the screen.

Despite the satellite image you pictured them up there, cloud and air whipping past them, focused and flying free.

“Readjust Wilson, keep steady at 43 degrees.” you said in your smooth commanding tone, before switching back to your normal one. “I’m surprised you left that come-back to me Sam... Loosing your touch in your old age? We have been out here a few years now.”

“Flight path adjusted, 43 degrees. Confirmed.” said Sam. “Hardly, just looking forward to getting the sand out of my boots for good and home to sweet ole American soil.”

“Aren’t we all.” you agreed, shifting your boots in deeper. “Eight miles out and counting.”

“Eight miles. Confirmed.” came Riley’s voice.

“So where are we flying off to after this?” Sam said. “I’m thinking somewhere at night...”

“A boozy downtown bar.” you filled in, continuing his idea.

You were used to playing this game with Sam. Imagining happier scenarios than the ones you were in kept you all sane. Of course it would be shut down by you before they engaged, but it kept any nerves at bay in the meantime. The storm was bad enough sometimes, and waiting for it in anxious silence just made it worse.

You had tried in the early days to play the three of you, but Riley’s suggestions were always boring when he did answer, which usually had took ten minutes. Part of the game included the one who broke the chain had to buy a round of drinks. Riley would always make you both break out of feigned frustration so it was easier just to exclude him (much to everyone’s playful jabs back at the base).

“Playing Smokey Robinson.”

“With one smoking hot bartender Jacques.” you teased, flicking on the backup satellite locator, used to pinpoint your two flyboys should satellite one go down.

You were always careful. It had kept the three of you alive so long. Triple checking and vetting any intel was part of the daily routine.

“With you there, I have all the smoking hot I need.” Sam quipped.

“Ha ha, yeah right Wilson.” you said, interrupting the game. It meant you had to buy the next round, but you didn’t care.

“What? This is our last mission. I can finally start flirting with you.” he said.

“Second last,” you corrected, keeping the flutter in your stomach down. “I’m still you commanding officer until it’s done.”

“And when it’s done, I’ll ask you out to that downtown bar.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure you will.” you said, a little roll to your eyes to no one. 

More than once Sam had flirted with you- just a little- but just enough to keep you wondering and keep a little burning heat flaming in your gut. Deflecting was easier than going along with his subtle words. It would save your heart quite the crashing fall if he was just joking.

You were secretly head of heels for that sarcastic, kind-hearted fool. His bravery and soul-rooted goodness shocked you time and time again. He had not once failed to do the right- and often the hard- thing. Your respect for Sam had grown through the years, planting itself deeper in your heart day by day. In a world full of blood and death and bullets, his steadfast warm-heartedness remained.

And now it wasn’t long until you could find out for sure if he felt the same.

But also, not long until you could actually act on it. Once this and the next mission was done, he would no longer be your subordinate. You could flirt with him as much as you wanted too. Go on that date like you wanted too. Find out if kissing him was an exercise in expressing his gentle spirit, or intensity like he had during a fight...

“Alright boys, comms cleared.” you said, clearing your throat. It was definitely warm in here, for a few reasons. “We’re t-minus five miles until the target. Systems and secure comm check now.”

“Sam, systems cleared. Mission is a go.”

“Riley, systems cleared. Mission is a go.”

“You know the drill, and easy point a shoot, alright. Target coordinates are locking in now, just following the big green ball, grab the loot, then turn tail and fly home. No heroes today, neither of you are cut out for it”

You switched your target system from standby to active, the recon team under your command having swept and vetted the area. The target- Khalid Khandil- was clear, located in a small building on a large private property lot. 

Rampant security detail kept helicopters or more serious artillery from moving in, so your elite squad was called in. The mission was to take out the security detail surround him, extract the target, and get back to base. Minimal casualties predicted. Stealth and speed was the name of your game, and the three of you had that in spades.

“All points, confirm guidance system up.” you continued, flicking on systems in prep for engagement.

“Guidance confirmed.” they both rung out. Little green lights should be lighting up the enemies in their googles now, while yours were on another screen that tracked their vitals

“One mile out. Okay, make me proud boys.” you said, as you always did. “Engage full force when you are within range.”

You were miles and miles away from them so all you had was you monitor screen of the satellite image and their voices on the comm. But you had been in the field yourself for years. You knew exactly how harry a fight could get, and how fast.

The comms were silent now, everyone holding their tongue as their energy went into focusing, breathing, and mentally preparing for this mission.

It only took a few minutes for everything to go to shit and your worst nightmare became your reality.

“Firing at will!” Sam yelled in his comm, sudden sounds of bullets ringing out. “Enemies engaged!”

The boys rang out the numbers they took down, calling back for support from the other when needed, you directing and commanding the two from afar.

But soon you heard explosions above the bullets. They were terribly loud with a high pitched keening sound before a cracking boom. You knew that sound.

“Wilson, confirm what it is I’m hearing. Are there explosions RPG’s?” 

Your screen was lighting up like bursts of light were popping up all around them. You knew what it was before you asked, your stomach sinking.

“Confirmed! RPG’s!” Riley answered back, yelling over the shrieking noise, unending sound of a full firefight coming in loud and clear.

“Ten men down- shit!- eleven!” Sam roared, dodging grenades and explosions.

This was wrong, the fight should be over by now. On your screen you saw multiple enemies looking to be coming out of bunkers among the flashes of light. 

This kind of engagement was too much for the two of them. Your recon of the area didn’t pull any of this up and they needed to get out of there now.

“Pull back!” you shouted to them. “That’s an order!”

Your instincts were generally flawless, and this may have just started but it wasn't ending fast enough. You didn’t consistently win and you didn’t save lives by taking unnecessary risks. Your commanders put a lot of stock in that, appreciating you taking such good care of their expense equipment. You more so cared about the men in it.

You watched the two of them whiz around the area chaotically, trying to avoid grenades rocketed in the air, exploding all around them.

“Squad, I’m pulling you out now! Get back to base, that is an order. We aren’t pr-” you started, before Riley spoke over you.

“They all have them, I can’t -we can’t-”

An explosion rang out loud in your headset, jerking you from a tense sitting position to standing, eyes wildly searching the screen for your squad.

His terrified, pained scream blasted your ears on the other end, before silence.

And in that moment your world was shot out of the sky.

“Wilson, Riley!” you screamed into the headset, heart somehow both racing and stopped in your chest. “Confirm your positions!”

But the screen didn’t lie. 

He was gone.

Riley was gone.

Shot out of the sky.

Miles away from him, you watched their vitals, one little blip where two should be.

You were the commanding officer. 

This was on you. 

Solely on you. 

You had killed him.

“Sam,” you said, voice low and loud, instantly in full commander mode. “Our satellite has Riley down, can you confirm?”

“He’s... he’s.” Sam sputtered, then let out a ferocious yell, whizzing through the air, firing everything he had in shock and pain and fury. You saw enemy after enemy go down at his skilled hand.

“Confirm damn it!”

“Confirmed.” he yelled eventually, voice cracking. “I have an opening, do I have confirmation to take it?

You paused a split second before continuing, shocked and weighing your options quickly. Voice steady you answered as your eyes filling up with tears.

“You complete this mission and get that son of a bitch, then get your ass back here now, soldier! That’s an order!”

Years later, you were back in D.C.

Your life since losing Riley was a myriad of deep uncover missions, taking you farther and farther away from that day, from Sam, from all of it. You received medals and honours, some public knowledge, many off the books. 

Your determination wasn’t about the recognition. It was about burying the pain of losing both Riley and Sam in the same day. In different ways they were both out of your life forever. The guilt of Riley’s death on your shoulders, the unspoken love for Sam strangling your heart.

You had a hard time with Riley’s death to this day but in the days just after the mission, it was a thousand times worse. You remembered the look on Sam’s face as he came back to base with Khalid Khandil in tow. Soldiers carried the man off, leaving the two of you there alone.

As you reached out for him, you dusty, grim soldier, you almost completely broke yourself. The only think keeping you up was how much Sam broke in your arms. He cracked and cried and crushed you under the weight of his grief. You held each other, riding out waves of pain and anguish and failure. But eventually, he pushed you away, wiping his eyes and leaving, unable to be near you.

He shut you down. And you understood why,

It had been your fault. All of it. You should have known. You should have been there. You should have managed the situation better. It was on you. And it was right that Sam blamed you. That he push you away because of it.

So Sam retired from the army, moving back to D.C.. But you couldn’t do that. Your punishment wasn’t enough. And you figured Sam wouldn't want you now, even in the same country as you.

So you stayed. And you fought. And you rose through the ranks. You collected badges and medals and honours and respect. You were an unstoppable, uncompromising force, channeling every bad experience you had into winning, into protecting those that you could protect. Because you couldn’t protect Riley. And you didn’t have the one person in this world that could make you feel something, anything resembling love or joy.

But your time there was not endless. It couldn’t be, even your superiors understood that.

So here you were now, back in D.C. of all places, on a special request. The last one you would receive.

The hall was dressed up simply, beige walls and folding chairs in front of the podium. They had moved it down off the stage at the back to the main floor, wanting a closer, more intimate feel.

Little flags and banners and frills were covered in red white and blue here. Your three colours were different: brown and black and red. Dirt and darkness and blood.

“Last week when I flew back here from my hometown,” you continued to the small crowd. A crowd of veterans and soldiers that understood your trauma. 

“I had a flight attendant with the same name as him. And all I could hear for the rest of the flight was the sound of him screaming as they killed him. As I let him die. It’s filled my dreams. It’s what I heard every time I put on my headset for a mission. The sound of a man- of a friend- dying because of my failure.”

You weren’t crying. You weren’t close to this anymore. It was life. This pain was what you’ve been experiencing for years. Crying over it now you might outwardly say to someone was childish, but inwardly you knew you just couldn’t spend that emotional energy on it. You had never fully dealt with it and just didn’t really know how. Same with the love you felt.

But you looked at the crowd of soldiers, all there for the same reason. They were all carrying the pain of the death of someone or the price of killing someone. They were trying. You all were trying to deal with this baggage.

“I came back here to receive my final honour for my service. A special ceremony in my honour, here at the capital. But all I’m going to be able to think about is the fact that he won’t be able to do that. That he didn’t get a chance. That he would've been a far better soldier than I turned out to be.”

You took a gulp of air before taking a gulp of water from a little dixie cup you brought up with you.

“But I’m going to try now. Try to grieve. Try to live. In honour of him, but for myself.”

Without the army as a cover, you had no choice but to do so now. 

With that, you sat down, and the speaker took up his spot back at the podium. He wrapped up the session, coming back to you to shake your hand afterward. You didn’t feel much like talking, so you politely excused yourself to get another little paper cup of water.

You didn’t notice that someone had been watching from the doorway behind you the entire time.

Standing at the little refreshment table, you threw away the little dixie cup, lingering while the others began filing out. You heard someone walking up beside you and turned to see a man you were not at all expecting.

Sam Wilson.

He hadn’t changed a bit, not to your eyes.

Wearing jeans and button up unlike the last time you saw him, he still wore the same crooked smile that always had made you smile unconsciously back.

This time you just couldn’t.

“Sam,” you breathed.

Shocked, he pulled you in for a hug. Memories of Sam coming back after Riley’s death, breaking in your arms flooded your mind.

When he pulled away, you cleared your throat, stepping back a little.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you said, still shocked. You stomach was on the floor and your heart in your throat. “How are you?”

“Doing well, living my own life now.” he said lightly, though his eyes told another story. You just weren’t sure what. “Congratulations on your honour... though I just don’t think you’ve been doing too great huh.”

He nodded to the podium. You swallowed, unsure how to respond. 

How did you even talk to someone you had known deeply- had loved deeply- that was absent from your life for years? You had at one time spoken to him about your dreams, your feelings (save the ones for him), your goals and plans, everything. And he had done the same. 

Should you act like you had forgotten? That he wasn’t still- even after all these years- the most important person that has ever been in your life?

“I’ve taken my time,” you admitted. “Don’t know if I will ever get over it.

“Don’t say that.” he said, stepping forward, taking your hand. You looked at his hand in yours, feeling the smooth warmth spread across your fingers. Another, familiar warmth spread in your stomach.

It was only for a moment before he let go and stepped back a little. 

“I don’t mean to... well, I’m sure you have someone else in your life now, to help you.”

“No, not quite. The army kind of disapproves of that kind of thing on the job, and that’s where I’ve been since you left.”

“I didn’t want to leave.” Sam said, suddenly. Fuck, that wasn’t the point you were trying to make.

“No, no, you... I’m sorry, I don’t know why I put it like that.” It was impossible to think you would be this awkward with him of all people, but here you were, proving yourself wrong.

“I wanted to stay, Y/N. Really I did.” he said, voice low and rich like you remember it to be. “I would have stayed by you forever. But I just didn’t think you wanted me too.”

... What?

“Why did you think that?” you said, more than a little floored.

Before Sam could answer, a few volunteers came in to put away and clean the refreshment table you were standing against. Sam lightly took your elbow, leading you across the hall to a small, quiet room.

He took a moment, hands on his hips before getting into it. You tried not to focus on his lips, somewhat unsuccessfully. God, it had just been so long since you laid eyes on him. Long enough to convince yourself that the man you remembered was not the same as the real deal. But heart-achingly, he was even better.

“Listen, Riley’s death was awful.” Sam started, trying to find the words. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that or him. Because it was my fault. He was my partner and he died beside me. You blaming me for that and not want me around wa-”

“What?!” you exclaimed, completely floored before just letting the floodgates you had pent up for years open wide, unbelieving he could possibly have felt that way. Now the tears started coming, filling up your eyes with a vengeance for the years you denied them.

“I was the commanding officer. He was mine to look after, to protect. You both were. And I failed. I felt shattered, guilty for so many reasons, and I thought you didn’t want me around. I loved you and knew that it was all my fault, that you would never-”

But you didn’t finish, Sam’s arms wrapping around your waist, arms pulling you closer while his body pushed you back against the wall. He lips were suddenly set to yours, earnest and sweet.

He pulled away only slightly to look down at you. You hadn’t had enough time to stop the tears, looking up at him through still watery, stunned eyes.

“I uh, I understand now you said “loved” as in you don’t anymore...”

“You’re right,” you swallowed, gaze locked to his, drinking in his eyes and smell and heat pressed against you. “I said “loved” but I... meant, well I mean... love. I loved you then, and I just... never stopped.”

You felt his chest well with emotion, jaw clenching tight against it. You expected him to kiss you again, passionate and intense as his eyes grew a deep, fiery look. But instead, he softly moved his fingers across your cheek, surprising you with how gentle he was, then into your hair.

“I loved you too. I still do.” he said softly.

He might have kissed you. He might have literally just said he loved you. But you still couldn’t believe it. Not after all this time longing and aching for him.

“Since day one in fact, when you berated my ass for making a stupid, cocky decision, and saved my life in doing so.” he said, smiling at the fond early days you had together.

“Yeah,” you joked, looking down and wiping a tear away. “You were the worst soldier I had seen. I’m surprised you made it out alive.”

You let that line slip, heart sinking and body shocked still as you remembered.

Riley. 

Oh god, the pain gripped you again, seizing your lungs and soul. 

But Sam leaned back in, wrapping you into him deeply. He stood, holding you together like you had done for him once.

“I got through this,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me help you get through this.”

All you could do was wrap your arms tightly around him, pressing your face into him. 

"Just don’t let go, not this time.” you whispered through choking tears.

“Never.”

Thank you for the request, Anon! I have yet to read a single Sam fic or write for him, so I’d love to hear what you all thought!

Tags: @dontpanc @thefalconsam (because well, Sam)pp

[daedamnatus]

Lar goes gun shopping

majinkura replied:

Lar was all yeah,try me bitch! *whips out gun*

Would have loved to see him fight more…you know..if he wasn’t being mobbed by Strigoi,in a more controlled environment.

daedamnatus replied:

I’m fixing this as we speak! Might even use your post as a writing prompt.

More Lefty Lar love!

As promised, some action scene with Lar! and some drama. Because I’m horrible.

Footsteps were audible in the hallways, reaching their room and Lex got up as he saw Vaun and Lar stepping in the operations room. They both saw Quinlan lounging in his chair, fingers meshed over his midsection and the Born did not move. Lar crossed his arms and Vaun addressed Lex directly.

“Nice of you to make friends with the old man but we have a job for you.”

“Ah, and no chaperon this time?”

“Duz will be minding the Born in your absence.”

From his seating position, Quinlan loudly scoffed, mocking the Sun Hunter.

“Come on,” Lar said, his narrow black eyes lingering on Quinlan before he motioned for Lex to follow him.

They walked until they reached the armory and Lar unlocked a cabinet to retrieve a small metal suitcase.

“We usually do this via proxy,” he told him, placing the case on the workbench. He punched in a combination and opened the lid. “But times are changing.”

It was filled with cash. US dollars in small cuts. Lex tried to quickly calculate the sum but Lar closed the lid before he could finish.

“I always wanted to go shopping with vampires,” he said, ironic.

Lar exposed his short white teeth before picking up an eighteen ammo clip for his pistol.

“We’re going to pick up an order. If we’re going to expand, we’ll need more rifles and a new arsenal.”

He checked his gun before loading a round in the chamber and holstered the weapon to his left. Lex took the same precaution, making sure he wouldn’t fall short in case of heavy fire.

Lar drove the Tahoe out in the night, having pulled the hood of his jacket over his head. Lex couldn’t drive that way, but he didn’t have the fine hearing of strigoi who compensated for blind spots. Lar took them south, in direction of the airport. Lex tried to make conversation.

“So, who are we meeting?”

Under the passing street lamps he could see Lar’s focused expression as he kept both hands on the steering wheel.

“Our overseas contractor,” he told him. “We’ve been working with them for a long time. I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

They reached the industrial storage areas far from the airport grounds. Lex had taken this route a few times to avoid traffic on his work commute. Lar steered into a dark yard with an already open security gate.

“How do we know it’s safe here?”

Lar stopped the car once they entered an airplane hangar. It looked out of order and was empty. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see a van parked right in front of them, fifty paces away.

Lar unfastened his seat belt and looked over at Lex.

“Let me do the talking.”

He could see movement around the black van in front of them, and the headlights came on. He saw at least two armed men wearing green camouflage, balaclava and black combat vests were now standing outside in the hangar.

“Professor Setrakian called me muscle earlier,” thoughtfully commented Lex. “I can get used to not talking.”

“Good.”

Lar opened the door and Lex followed, he kept his eyes peeled as he saw a third individual coming out of the passenger’s side of the bigger vehicle. A female in a long black trench coat. She had blond hair tied back in a ponytail. She was dolled up like an air hostess.

“Dobryy vecher,” she spoke in quaint Russian.

Lex only understood the greeting, the rest was just noise to him. Lar responded in equal measure, his mastery of the language catching him aback. He still couldn’t pinpoint where his slight accent came from.

“Priyatna nakonets vstretit'sya lichna.” It was good to see her in person, apparently. Lar’s hands were not far from his holster as he tilted his head towards the armed henchmen behind the blonde. “Vse v poryadke?” Is there something wrong?

She smiled back at him, squinting her eyes. “Net.” She spoke again in a long sentence Lex couldn’t completely decipher. She held her shoulders rigid, feet set apart and her hands dug deep in her coat pockets.

Lar used his right hand to pull back his hood, exposing his face to the woman. Her smile faded and the mercenaries behind her raised their black, special operations AK-47’s.

“Uspokoysya,” Lar told them to calm down, his lips tilting up as he took a slow step forward. He eventually got close enough to the woman and he spoke even more quietly, but Lex heard him nonetheless. “This place is surrounded by strigoi. If you kill us, you eliminate your only chance to get out of here alive.”

She lifted up her chin in defiance, pursing her red-painted lips.

“We have enough guns and explosives to last until sunrise,” she spoke back with almost no accent.

“My guns,” he corrected, standing only slightly taller than her. “And since we’re on the topic: you picked a poorly secured location. I’m cutting off your share for whatever we waste in ammunition to get us out of here.”

The Russian bodyguards got antsy and looked at each other before aiming their sights on Lar and him. But Lar extended a hand in his direction. Lex complied and did not respond to the threat.

“Tell your men to stand down,” he hissed. “Or I’ll dispose of them myself and save you the expenses.”

She turned her head and ordered her associates to lower their weapons. They obeyed her, but not after a moment of hesitation. Lex kept his wits about them. Russian mobsters who had access to guns were generally trained by the FSB and were in shortage of work. He never thought he’d ever encounter the Spetsnaz before, lest imagined he’d be dealing with them siding with a strigoi.

Lar signaled for him to go to their car. Lex came back with the heavy suitcase which he opened for Lar to divide the shares. One of the Russians arrived with an empty duffle bag and Lar began to fill it with money.

“A hundred thousand was what we agreed on the phone, you get half of it now. The other half, minus the wasted ammo when we’re done here.”

The blonde gritted her teeth and flared her nostrils but kept a relaxed demeanor. Lex hoped she could hear the rattles and growling of incoming rogue strigoi all around the hangar.

“You’re exactly the confident man I imagined for all those years,” she told Lar, her eyes riveted on him, not displaying any sign of worry about the cash transfer. “Everything seems to be going well for you. Almost as if you had planned this.”

Lar nodded to Lex and he closed the case and quickly brought it back to the truck. When he arrived he saw one Russian man coming back with two full duffle bags. After a quick inspection, and with Lex’s help the weapons were now in the Tahoe. When he returned he saw Lar pulling out his pistol. The Spetsnaz raised their AK’s again. His stone-cold expression was concerned on a different matter, however.

“Cover the back entrance. My associate and I will take the front.” He pointed a gloved finger at the two men and angrily warned them. “Ne strelyay v moyu mashinu!” Don’t shoot my car. They both lightly chuckled at him in response.

Lex would have laughed if his instincts weren’t amping him up for combat as he clearly heard the sounds of hungry monsters surrounding them. He followed Lar to the back of the SUV and was given a Scorpion submachine rifle. Lar slung his own weapon and disengaged the security.

He looked up at Lex and creased his forehead, worriedly repeating himself in English.

“Don’t-”

“-shoot the car,” Lex finished. “I got it.”

His half smile was reassuring. Lar nodded sharply with a friendly “spasiba” and raised his rifle towards the first strigoi who appeared in the yard outside the hangar.

The rifles had no suppressor, so the shots resonated in the wide open space in the night, the noise drawing in even more stragglers and famished, recently turned strigoi. Lex shot down the first row of mindless invaders, disturbed by the loud cracking fire of the Kalashnikovs behind him.

Twelve dead corpses littered the ground, followed by ten more as Lar advanced on their position and unclipped a frag grenade from his vest.

“Behind you!” he shouted at Lex.

Following his training, Lex lunged forward and rolled to turn around, aiming his gun at a deployed proboscis coming from an attacker, a lean but motivated blood sucker with a missing eye. Its head blew up in a white splash of brains and worms. Another one came right after, but was shot clean through the neck. Lex got to his feet and saw that the female Russian had dealt with his surprise mugger.

He turned again to see Lar reloading, but three strigoi were moving in on him. Lex shot one, two, then the third was dealt a fatal knife stab in the ear. Lar pulled it out and kicked its knee broken. The strigoi instantly fell down and the knife was thrown dead-center into a strigoi of large proportions. He shouldered his Scorpion and shot two others coming late to the party.

The front entrance was cleared but they still heard the Russians firing their weapons and the voice of the blonde drew their attention. Lar sped across the hangar and Lex ran after him, but far too slowly as a mere human. He aimed at a strigoi nearest to the van the Russians were already dealing with it, twisting its head off while the second merc was using his pistol to dispatch another.

Lar had reached the woman and shoved a strigoi that hit the side of the van with a loud bang. It screeched at him and he held out his pistol, squeezed the trigger and the truck was painted in white stains. He turned to the blonde and she was clutching her gun with steady hands. But Lar strode towards her, determined to grab her left arm and she tried to free herself from him. He rattled and he had a short knife in hand as he held her elbow locked under his right arm.

“Don’t move,” he menacingly told her, and dug his blade into the pink flesh.

She screamed with rage, deep red blood spilled from her. A worm was squiggling manically as it was making its way into her veins. Lex cringed his teeth and helped Lar by holding the woman’s other arm. The two Spetsnaz tried to help as well, by not pointing their guns at them.

The worm was out. Lar held it tightly between his gloved fingers and he threw it on the ground before stomping it. Once freed, the woman was panting and holding her bleeding forearm.

“It’s too late,” she sighed with frustration. “I’m still going to turn.”

Lar looked up and pulled out a rag from his pockets to wipe the blood from his knife. His stinger churned within his chest.

“I gave you more time,” he muttered.

“Kill me,” she bitterly said. “I’m not going to mope in my last moments.”

He stared at her, and seeing his unwillingness to comply, she nodded at her henchmen. One of the Spetsnaz heartlessly pointed his AK at her temple.

The click of Lar’s SP01 was first to grab their attention and the bodyguard-turned-executioner froze.

“Shall we finish the transaction now?” threatened Lar. “You all die, and I take back my other half of the money. Your boss will go after your families and friends for payback. How does that sound?”

The merc relented his hold of the rifle. But his boss wouldn’t settle for appeasement. She rose her gun and shot him. Lex saw with wide eyes the masked man fall to his knees, brains splashed on the white-stained truck. The second merc held up his gun.

Lex fired his Scorpion and around his head made the soldier drop his rifle. The woman fired a round, then two, which hit Lex in the chest plate. He staggered and pointed his rifle at her.

She was disarmed by Lar, who held her down by twisting her arm in her back.

“Sykin syn!” she spat. Son of a bitch.

“Net ne tak,” Lar told in her ear. “You’re not going down like this, Anya.”

Lex held his shoulder but kept his gun pointed at the merc who was leaning against the truck. He watched from the corner of his vision Lar taking the woman’s pistol and tossing it away. Her face was wet with tears when he released her. She took a deep breath but she was shaking, eyes wandering on her bloody hands. Lar pressed his lips into a slit and regretfully shook his head.

“My daughter,” she whimpered with an angered breath. “Pavla. She lives in Saint Petersburg with her cousins. Will you make sure she gets the money?”

“You have enough time to fly back home,” Lar replied. “You can say your goodbyes.”

She wiped her face with the back of her hands and let out a labored breath.

“We both know that’s not possible.”

Her steel blue eyes went from Lex, to her bodyguard, then to the one in front of her.

“I’m glad I finally got to meet you, Lar.”

His head lowered for a second. When he brought his gaze upon her again he held his back straight, left hand at his side securely holding the gun.

Lex parted his lips to speak up. Lar did before him.

“What should I tell Pavla?”

Anya looked sideways into the darkness, a shadow of a smile waved across her face.

“Something nice.”

He blinked once, then raised up his left arm.

“I’ll make sure she hears something nice then,” he spoke with a half-hearted smirk.

Lex looked away. He heard Anya’s small laugh then a pause. 

The gunshot rang loudest than any other.

Darkness filled the hangar again as they watched the soldier leave with the money sitting in the back of his truck alongside the bodies of his two partners. He was contract-bound to fulfill the deal, make sure the money would go into the right hands, and guarantee that the Sun Hunters would keep a good standing with the Russians.

Sitting at the wheel of the SUV, Lar was silent, unmoving. After a quick inspection of his uniform, Lex found no worms caught in his combat gear. He glanced over to his left.

Lar had his head leaning against the backrest of his seat, and turned the key in the ignition to let the engines roar and cover the silence. Lex didn’t know what to say. He attempted an agreeable platitude.

“She seemed nic-”

“Shut up.”

He clammed up at the sight of the red-rimmed black eyes that threw darts at him. They were unscathed. They had restocked on weapons and ammunition. The relations with their contractor were preserved.

But he wasn’t too sure about Lar.

[torentialtribute]

Spurs v Arsenal betting odds plus Everton v Liverpool and a Man United star in a 30/1 scorer treble

The north London derby starts the final round of Premier League matches with Arsenal who want to continue their impressive form and Tottenham who have to recover from the back-to-back defeats

It is also derby day on Merseyside where Everton would like to

Manchester City is in Bournemouth, United is home while Fulham attendant boss Scott Parker welcomes his former Chelsea club in Craven Cottage and Brendan Rodgers is in charge of Leicester for the first time.

Here is our guide for every game to the weekend – kick-offs 15:00 on Saturday unless otherwise stated.

Tottenham against Arsenal – Saturday 12.30 hours

Tottenham has already lost a derby from London this week as a defeat against Chelsea, in the background of a bubble loss at Burnley, the long awaited expectations she wiped out had the title. They have slipped back to the top four race and Arsenal was able to move within a point of their nearest rivals with a victory over Wembley. The side of Unai Emery fantasises their chances. They have won four out of five games since they dropped 3-1 to Manchester City (they lost to BATE Borisov but continued on aggregate) and the biggest they could do with their recent results, capped by the 5-1 hammering from Bournemouth, is that over four wins they have had eight different scorers. Spurs has seen six in the same period for the first time since December 2013, played a Premier League match without a shot on goal – at Stamford Bridge on Wednesday night – when Harry Kane's most notable contribution was a pair of angry exchanges, of which he could have been one. The reverse competition at Emirates Stadium ended 4-2 on Arsenal and they are 5/2 to win again. You can win 9/2 if both teams score, while more than 3.5 goals in the game look good on 7/4.

Bournemouth v Man City

Bournemouth & # 39; s defeat by Arsenal on Wednesday

Harry Kane (right) is back for Tottenham but they have lost both games since their return was expected. City needed a fine not to get West Ham. However, they did the job, with only their second 1-0 win of the season, and they would have to do it again if they stared at Liverpool in this intriguing battle for the title. City is no better than 1/4 for the points, which is about the same, as it is seven of the seven Premier League-games against Bournemouth, with 24 goals being scored for the loss of only three. Ignore City's run of three defeats in their last three league games on the course, since the most recent – a 2-1 loss in Newcastle late January – they have eliminated four times from the Etihad Stadium, winning at Everton, Newport in the FA Cup and Schalke in the Champions League before Chelsea defeats on penalties at Wembley to lift the Carabao Cup. This should be simple enough, even without the injured Fernandinho, and they are 15/2 to win with 2-0 or 8/1 to win 3-0.

Burnley v Palace

This is another where the part of the points looks pretty good. Burnley's unbeaten run of eight games came to an end in St James's Park against Newcastle, which have found some form in the past few games. Burnley is still going to get things right for their own fans, last week's surprise. Spurs took them to four victories and a draw at Turf Moor since he lost to Everton on Boxing Day. Palace lost their own unbeaten run in midweek – seven games – against Manchester United but with the risk that it sounds like a broken record, they are better off than at home. Each score here is equal to 18/5. Ashley Barnes (2/1) and Chris Wood (11/5) jump off the scorers page at any time, as they were responsible for Burnley's last eight Premier League goals. Both have four in their last five games.

Man United v Southampton

The injury list of Manchester United is long but Romahu Lukaku fits and shoots in his preferred position should ensure that they do not miss their curved stars against Southampton. Lukaku, who last week looked good against Liverpool, despite being jerked out while the injured Marcus Rashford hopped around in the middle, took advantage of the central role in Selhurst Park. His two goals brought him to double digits for the seventh Premier League season in a row and ended nine games without a goal. The Belgian is a streaky scorer and if it starts, it is worth adding to his note against Southampton. He is 5/1 to open the score, 7/5 at any time and 15/2 to catch two or more.

Wolves against Cardiff

Wolves have already lost to one team in this week's relegation zone

Manchester United will find more of the same from Romelu Lukaku But Cardiff can not make two in a row. A game against the Bluebirds is a perfect way to stand out if things are not going so well. Just ask Everton. They had lost five out of six by defeating Huddersfield alone, before Gylfi Sigurdsson drove them to a 3-0 victory in the Cardiff City Stadium in the midweek. Wolves have been pretty bad lately as Everton, but an extra victory over Shrewsbury, a home draw with Newcastle, last winner in Bristol City and a draw with Bournemouth before that loss in West Yorkshire until late into the night some of their good work earlier in the campaign. They are 8/15 to get back on track in their push for Europe with a win, but can not be supported on 6/4 minus one goal on the handicap or 4/1 minus two. Cardiff has won at least three goals this season in 11 top flights – more than any other side

West Ham v Newcastle – Saturday 5.30 pm

You have to go back to mid December on Huddersfield for the last time Newcastle won home – one of only two wins over St James' Park throughout the season. It was also just before Christmas that West Ham was defeated on his own field. The hammers are a bit better than the same with several bookmakers and 11/4 to win with a goal margin. Former Magpie Andy Carroll has not scored since the FA Cup Brighton won at the beginning of the year, but he had bad luck against Man City on Wednesday. & # 39; Never a Celt, always a fraud, & # 39; shouted the Celtic

Watford v Leicester – Sunday noon

& # 39; Never a Celt, always a fraud, & # 39; shouted the Celtic fans & banner in midweek after Brendan Rodgers left for the King Power Stadium. He has hardly noticed how he now & # 39; donates his life & # 39; to Leicester and that starts seriously against one of his former clubs in Watford. They probably do not think of him on Vicarage Road as they do on the East side of Glasgow, but they will certainly hope that he leaves his legs between his legs. The recent form of Watford had not been bad until their midweek against Liverpool (another old boss of another Rodgers), but they were always hammered and dropped in the past three seasons with 6-1, 5-0 and 5-0 . Before they went to Anfield, they lost only one in eleven in all competitions. Rodgers saw how his party defeated Brighton on Tuesday, but the best they can hope for is a point. Both teams to score appear nailed, while each score is 18/5.

Fulham v Chelsea – Sunday 2.05 am

Claudio Ranieri galloped past Maurizio Sarri to the head of the gamble in the Premier League-bag race and then his fellow Italia punctuated when Fulham showed him the door on Thursday. Sarri has himself bought a little bit of time for beating Tottenham and a second derby victory in a week, because Chelsea sees the only outcome here. Sarri's biggest decision is who he plays in the goal after he has put Kepa on the back of his row at Wembley and Willy Knight has given the nod to Spurs. Knight did well on Wednesday, but Sarri could keep Willy Wonka between the posts and still catch the points. This is the start of a kind of (ish) series of matches for Chelsea while they are fighting for the top four finish with Wolves, Everton, Cardiff and West Ham to come next. They have to finish it in style and are 6/4 to win minus one goal for the handicap or 4/1 min two

Everton v Liverpool – Sunday 4.15 pm

The Merseyside competes both won In the middle of the week, but the way that Liverpool dismantled their own Anfield whipping boys, Watford was by far the most impressive. They were just as good as they have been all season and even though Mohamed Salah could not get on the score sheet and a shortage of his half century Premier League goals for the Reds – he was refused by the woodwork – recent concerns about the Egyptian will have been put to bed He was excellent. Sadio Mane, Divock Origi and Virgil van Dijk were on track while Trent Alexander-Arnold delivered the most ammunition. So Everton can expect them to throw a lot at them and although this can be a tight competition – seven of the last nine competition meetings are all square or with a difference of one goal – Liverpool with a couple is the choice this time. You can win 15/4 Liverpool with a pair, while the opponents 14/1 can expect for a 3-1 victory for Jurgen Klopp and Co.

: Man United, Wolves, Fleetwood, Shrewsbury, Dundee United 17 / 1 various bookies

AWAYS : Arsenal, Liverpool, Chelsea, Barcelona and Roma return around with various bookies with various bookies DRAWS : Brighton against Huddersfield, Wigan against Middlesbrough, Aston Vila against Derby 37/1 with several bookmakers

Both teams score 1st half : Spurs against Arsenal , Real Madrid against Barcelona, ​​Aberdeen against Rangers 64/1 Ladbrokes, Coral & Sky Bet

Always scorers: [1945902] Ashley Barnes, Romelu Lukaku, Steve Mounie

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