#its crazy! this is new science right here fresh off the presses

[mvlkavian]

play sims because u enjoy it and its a game and if u dont like it u shouldnt play it just for notes on a silly little website check

[breakyeol]

— SQUIRM, BABY.

You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.

┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut

Words: 4.7k 

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering

A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!

“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”

A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.

To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.

“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“No.”

You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”

He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”

You let out a noisy huff of air, slouching over dramatically in the stiff plastic chair until your chin is pressed against the cold table. “I hope you know I am deeply regretting some of my life decisions right about now.” You grumble, shooting him an icy glare that you hope conveys the absolute loathing you feel for both him and the set of problems laid before you.

“I thought that was a daily thing for you.”

Scoffing, you bury your mouth in the thick sleeve of your hoodie. “Your face is a daily thing for me.”

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, though you could almost feel the intensity of his deadpan. “I think that was the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You do realize that that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Your fa—”

“Shut up and do your work.”

He either doesn’t hear or consciously chooses to ignore the colorful array of curses you grumble spitefully in his direction, though simultaneously resigning yourself to the fact that you won’t be able to put off your work inevitably. Kyungsoo was a stickler for proper time management. If he had an agenda set in place for your tutoring session (which he always did), then you better believe he’d be checking off each item within its designated time frame. And if you don’t cooperate— well then, your best bet is to pray that there isn’t a mechanical pencil within his reach.

He might not always be able to reach the top shelf, but Kyungsoo had ways of getting what he wanted. Usually, that chilling glare was enough to get those around him to bend to his will. He could be a scary little shit when he wanted to be. You’ll admit, even you had been the tiniest bit intimidated when you first met him. He was quiet, reserved, strict in manner, but also the dangerous unpredictable type, you gathered that much quickly enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you didn’t get on too well.

Where he was cool and standoffish, “a man of few words” some might say, you were more vocal about your opinions, social by nature, always eager to meet new people and make new connections. You had a tendency to speak loudly when excited and talk with your hands when passionate about a subject. That was something most people learned about you very quickly. Unfortunately, upon your first official meeting at a party in your freshman year with your mutual friends, Kyungsoo had no idea just how emphatic you could be until you’d knocked his drink clean out of his hand and spilled it down the front of his brand new shirt.

It was an accident, of course. You’d apologized profusely and he’d accepted it (albeit somewhat begrudgingly), but that was probably the first of many missteps in your... unique relationship.

With such conflicting personalities, it was understandable that you got into frequent arguments about one thing or another. Petty disagreements would often grow into something larger than they really needed to be. Mostly because despite having such contrasting personalities, you shared the trait of innate stubbornness, neither of you willing to admit when you were wrong. It was easy to argue with him, and you liked when you proved him wrong. You liked the way his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed. You liked the way he glared, the way his lips pouted. You like the challenge he presented you with every time he opened his mouth. Above, you loved to win. Especially when it was against him.

So you pushed, and he pushed right back. And before you knew it, you found yourself a proper ‘frenemy’, though you aren’t sure that that’s quite the right word to describe whatever it was you two were.

But that’s just how the two of you are, how you’d always been. If you were being honest, riling him, seeing that usually so stoic, so controlled expression crack when you pushed just the right buttons— it was fun. You thoroughly enjoyed fucking with him, discovering new and creative ways to get under his skin. And you knew he got just as much satisfaction from doing the same to you, rendering you speechless with witty comebacks, flustering you with his sharp tongue and impressive rebukes.

So really, was it such a terrible thing?

Not to mention, a number of not-so-terrible things occurred as a result of one of your many arguments, such as hiring him as your calculus tutor. One that started out with you claiming he would probably be the shittiest teacher to ever exist (which seemed a valid argument at the time considering how short tempered and impatient he could be *cough* with you *cough*) to which he rebutted with the claim that he could “teach a goldfish advanced calculus” if he set his mind to it, and considering that you “had an IQ equivalent to one”, he could without a doubt teach you. His words, obviously.

It just so happened that you had a calculus exam coming up that next week, so to prove his point, he tutored you for the three days preceding said test. Even though you loathe being proven wrong, you ended up getting one of the highest scores you’d ever gotten on a math test in your entire academic career.

Putting your pride aside, you made the suggestion that he continue to tutor you. He only agreed when you offered him green in exchange for his troubles and admitted that he was right (it took a few extra hours to convince yourself that your grades should be held above your ego before you could bring yourself to verbally admit defeat).

And now here you are, not flunking out of calculus. You’d consider that worthy of the bruise to your pride, even if only by a small margin.

“Kyungsoo, why’d you mark this one wrong?” You frown at the large red X marking problem two as incorrect. You’d been glaring at your scribbled work for almost two minutes, running over the problem in your head, but you couldn’t seem to figure out where he thought you’d gone wrong. It looks right enough to you.

Kyungsoo shifts over to get a better look, his arms pressing against yours in the process and you are briefly stunned by the sudden, unexpected closeness, wholly unable to stop yourself from noticing the faint, woody scent of his aftershave that caresses your senses. Fuck. You can’t tell if you hate or love the fact that he smelled so good. Partly love it because good hygiene is always something to admire in a man (even if that man was Doh Kyungsoo), partly hate it because dammit it’s Doh Kyungsoo and you loathe finding anything that has to do with him attractive. Plus, it’s distracting. You’re here trying to learn and he has the audacity to go around smelling like pine trees and fresh moss after a rainfall. Unfair.

“Right here.”

The scowl you don’t realize you’re wearing immediately drops away as the low baritone of his voice thrums through the cavity of your ribcage and you lean forward to see exactly what he’s pointing at.

“You multiplied straight through instead of distributing.” He explains further upon seeing the uncertainty on your face. A few seconds of further inspection and you finally see what he’s talking about.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “I’m so stupid.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.” He reassures.

“Yeah, but I should know that by now, I should’ve—” you turn your head, only to nearly choke on air as you discover that any space that once existed between the two of you has virtually disappeared, “... seen it.”

He’s close, so close that you can feel the cool rush of his breath against your skin as he exhales, goosebumps bristling across your arms in response. He’s close. Too close. You can’t think straight, can’t even breathe. The moment that surrounds you feels fragile, like even the slightest disruption would rupture it completely.

Frozen, you can only swallow around the sudden dryness of your mouth as your treacherous eyes drop to trace the plush line of his lips. Who even has lips like that? They’re just so big and so pink, that dark, kissable kind of pink that every girl just wishes her lips could be. You, included. They look soft, and you can’t help but to wonder if they’d still taste like the strawberry bubblegum he’d been chewing on at the beginning of your tutoring session.

“Careful, ___.” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, raspier than you recall it being before and laced in a faintly taunting pitch, is enough to break you from your trance and, once freed, you whip your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash.

“Fuck off.” You cough, jaw clenching as you attempt to drag your mind out from the gutter and back onto the calculus problems you have yet to correct. But for whatever reason your brain refuses to cooperate, instead filling your head with images of his pretty mouth and everything it could be doing instead of rambling on about something as uninteresting as calculus. Damnit.

No doubt seeing the distress written clearly across your face, Kyungsoo chuckles, the sound low and smooth where it drips from his lips, and a familiar heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach.

You can feel his eyes on you now, every cell of your being suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. The pressure of his knee where it nudges against yours, the teasing curl of his lips as he watches you struggle to focus, the warmth of his palm caressing up your thigh, the— wait what?

Your gaze whips down, breath hitching at the sight of Kyungsoo’s hand gently gripping the lagging clad flesh just above your knee. It’s another few seconds before you’re able to find your voice again.

“W– What’re you—?”

“Focus.” He cuts you off smoothly, fingers soothing over the inside of your leg, squeezing gently. When you don’t look away from him, he smirks, jerking his chin forward in a manner you can only interpret as challenging. There’s a familiar glint in his eye, a dangerous glint that doesn’t fail to provoke your competitive side. You know that look well. He’s challenging you.

And you don’t back down from a challenge.

Especially not from Doh Kyungsoo.

Determination flairs up inside of you, your jaw clenching as you strike him with a single, heated glare that read plain and simple ‘you. are. on.’ before honing all your attention onto the worksheet in front of you. It’s not too difficult to focus at first, to disregard the tingles that erupt across your skin where his hot touch sears into it. You manage to find and correct your error in one of the problems (impressive for you even if Kyungsoo wasn’t feeling your leg up under the table).

But whatever pride you find in doing so is quickly quelled when his hand suddenly shifts higher, and you feel the faintest pressure against your heat. It’s a sensation that robs you of your ability to breathe entirely for a handful of seconds, and you can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine.

This, you see, is one of the more recent developments in your oh-so complicated relationship with Doh Kyungsoo. Yet another that began with a disagreement at a party, over something you can’t even remember anymore thanks to the haze of alcohol that clouded both your minds at the time, that spiraled way out of proportion. You remember yelling at him, insulting him, stabbing your finger into his chest, feeling the sting of his lethal glare. God, he’d looked so pissed off, and you just fed off of it, fed off the rage and the frustration that festered like lava in those dark brown eyes. The angrier he got, the harder you pushed, until he finally snapped.

You’re still not sure what you expected to happen. What you expected him to do. But you sure as hell hadn’t anticipated him grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into one of the hottest, most mind numbing kisses you’d ever experienced.

Next thing you remember is being in a bed. Whose bed it was, isn’t important. What is important, however, is the fact that that night you had the best sex of your entire life with the man you thought you couldn’t stand.

Hate sex with Doh Kyungsoo opened your eyes to a whole new world of mind boggling pleasure that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure that no other person had ever been able to give you. God, the things he did to you. No one had ever touched you like that before. It was like he knew all the places on your body that made you unravel. He honestly ruined all other men for you that night because none have even come close to comparing. Which was beyond frustrating especially considering that, at the time, you thought it was a one time thing.

The morning after you both pretended that nothing happened. In the two weeks following as well, neither one of you mentioned it. You tried to erase the memory from your brain, tried to go back to normal, but it was hard considering every time you needed some sexual release (which was more often than you care to admit), it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that you imagined while you touched yourself. You replayed his moans in your head, his deep, rasping voice growling your name, and fuck, you never came harder.

But it was still nothing compared to the real thing.

As time passed you only grew more and more frustrated. Worst of all, you could tell he was feeling it too. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, with fire burning in eyes, in the way he spoke to you, with a pitch of something hot and wanting in his voice, in the way he lost his cool far quicker and far more often than he had in the past, your arguments fiercer and more frequent than they’d ever been. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It got to the point where even your most oblivious of friends started noticing it as well, though they knew better than to voice their curiosity.

The second time it happened, you were both sober and, somehow, it was even better than you remembered. The pleasure was more intense, more overwhelming, a feeling you can’t even put into words. Then it kept happening. Late at night when he’d show up unannounced at your door. Early in the morning when you had an important exam later in the day and you needed some pre-test de-stressing. Between classes in the back seat of his car just because you could. At parties when your friends were too shit faced to notice the two of you slipping into an unoccupied bedroom.

Just sex. That’s what you both agreed to when it became blatantly obvious that your little ‘arrangement’ wouldn’t be coming to an end any time soon. No strings. Just sex. Just really, really good sex.

And that was perfectly fine by you.

Exhaling shakily through your nose, you try to block out the feeling of his thumb as it begins to caress gently up and down your clothed core, suddenly very grateful for the layers of fabric that separate you from his intoxicating touch. But it’s a gratitude that’s short lived. Just as you manage to adjust and scribble down a correction, he cups his hand over your mound and squeezes. A gasp escapes you, and you try to cover up the sound with a series of short coughs, the sting embarrassment intertwining with the warmth of pleasure as a few eyes briefly glance in your direction.

“You’re such an asshole.” You hiss under your breath, thighs tightening around his hand, locking it in place.

He throws you a lopsided grin, brows lifting and you don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been called worse.” What he means is you’ve called him worse.

Your lips part, but any intelligible words die on the tip of your tongue as he grinds the heel of his palm down, directly against your clit. Your head drops, eyes squeezing shut, teeth locking down firmly on your lower lip in order to silence the soft moan that threatens to break free.

“F- fuck.”

You hear him coo tauntingly beside you at your slip, the tips of his skilled fingers easily locating your entrance and prodding experimentally. At this point, you don’t doubt he can feel the fabric of your leggings growing hot and wet with your arousal.

Despite being used to the quick effect he had on your body, you can help but to feel the slightest twinge of shame at how he was able to rile you up this much with little more than a few well-placed strokes of his fingers. But fuck, it felt so good. You’d already been feeling somewhat deprived since you’d both been so busy this past week with exams and projects and what not. This is the first time you’re spending time with him since almost a week ago.

And you are in need of a fix.

“You look like you’re having a bit of trouble on that problem. Do you need my help?” Kyungsoo leans into you, his face right up next to yours, and you have to resist the sudden urge to kiss him right then in there in front of everyone in the stupid library.

Instead, you grit out an unconvincing, “I’m fine,” and force yourself to stay focused on the dizzying mess of numbers and letters on the worksheet in front of you and not on the delicious warmth of his hand where it is applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you teetering between pleasure and the insatiable need for more.

“You sure?” There’s a certain lightness to his voice that tells you he is thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle. Sadistic bastard.

“Positive.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You almost gasp as a rush of cold air fills the places he had been, and you can’t help the frown that tugs at the corners of your lips, disappointment and irritation coloring your features before you can reel them in. From the corner of your eye, you chance a glance in his direction. The smug, knowing little smirk staining his lips sends a wave of heat pulsing into your cheeks, and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“So what, you’re just going to stop?” You whisper sharply, not making any attempt whatsoever to hide your annoyance.

A look of feigned innocence overcomes his features. “You said you didn’t need my help.”

You grit your teeth, glaring at him as hard as you can manage with how incredibly turned on you are. But he remains unfazed.

“If you want my help,” he continues, voice dropping an entire octave, “you’re going to have to ask for it... nicely.”

Nice wasn’t a word in your vocabulary when Kyungsoo was involved.

Seeing the resistance you are still putting up, he feathers his fingers over your thigh, tracing slow designs across the thin, black fabric. You swallow, unable to look away as they trail dangerously higher, teasing closer to where you both knew you wanted them most.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

Fuck, you want it so bad.

You know that he knows you want it. It’s just the getting yourself to actually say it out loud part that proves to be a challenge. But that’s exactly what he wants you to do, he wants to hear you say it, wants to see you cast aside your stubborn pride and beg for it. Beg for him.

Lifting your eyes, you glance unsurely around the library. It isn’t overly crowded anymore since most of the other students have begun to trickle out as late afternoon approaches. Plus, the table you were seated at was tucked into the far back corner of the room, secluded and out of the way. But still, your nerves buzzed at the thought of someone seeing. Though maybe — just maybe — there was a buzz of something else as well. Excitement, perhaps?

Grip tightening around your pencil, you chewed on the corner of your lip, refusing to meet Kyungsoo’s penetrating gaze as you let out a soft murmur. “...ease.”

He leans closer, mirth shimmering in his eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Groaning, you shoot him a scowl, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Please help me, asshole.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, the genuine kind that makes his cheeks lift and his nose wrinkle. You like it when he laughs like that. Makes him look a lot less like a serial killer.

Sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh of his lower lip to stifle his laughter, he shoots you a lazy grin, “that’s all you had to say.”

Next thing you know, his hand is slipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and into the soft cotton confines of your underwear. Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale filling your lungs with cold air as his fingers slid through your slick folds.

“I knew you were wet but shit.” He hisses, thick brows furrowing at the feeling of your heavy arousal coating the length of his digits. “I must say, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, “even Chanyeol can get me this— ngh!”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger inside of you, and the remainder of your sentence pitches into a strangled moan. One look at his face, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, lips down turned, tells you he isn’t all too pleased at the mention of another man’s name, especially when he’s the one buried knuckle deep in your greedy cunt.

A hazy smirk curls onto your lips and you let out a low hum of pleasure, walls squeezing around him. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Is that why you enjoy pissing me off so much?” He questions, tone biting and low, and you shutter involuntarily as he rolls the pad of his thumb harshly over your aching clit.

“Partly.” You admit, somewhat breathless. “But you’re also just a really fun person to piss off.”

He chuckles dryly in response, though the sound lacks any genuine amusement. “You are such a brat, you know that?” He emphasizes the word by stretching you around a second finger, and you have to drop your pencil in favor of clasping your hand over your mouth, unable to swallow down the soft whimpers that tremble up your throat.

“You love it.” You manage to get out before you’re forced to bite into the tender flesh of your palm to muffle a desperate cry when the slow thrusts of his digits suddenly picks up speed. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jerking up to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm. Electricity ricochets through your veins, and you feel that distinctive tightening in the pit of your stomach. Kyungsoo also feels the way you throb and clench around him, and makes sure to grind down hard against your swollen clit.

Heat immediately spreads through your core, the intensity of the pleasure becoming more than you can handle. “Oh god, Kyungsoo.” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, and you quickly duck your head, doing your best to make it seem like you’re focusing on your work and not the fingers drilling relentlessly into your g-spot, praying to god that no one had seen the blissed out expression on your face. Still, you can’t help the quiet whine that escapes you when his ministrations slow.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” He asks in less than a whisper, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Ever hear of subtlety?”

“Ever hear of suck my dick?” You snap back without missing a beat, only to jolt as his fingers curl inside of you, pressing directly against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Every muscle in your body tenses, and fuck you’re so close you can almost taste it. Frantically, you thrust your hips, desperately trying to fuck yourself down on his digits.

“Sit still.” He growls, and you quiver when he sinks his teeth into the lobe of your ear, obeying only because you really don’t want to get banned from the campus library if someone happened to catch on.

“Soo— fuck,” the force with which you bite into your lip is nearly about to break the skin, but you can’t be bothered by the pain, not with how quickly your orgasm was approaching. Sensing as much, Kyungsoo goes the extra mile of drawing hard, fast figure eights over your clit with his thumb while simultaneously thrusting his fingers into you so fast that you swear you can almost hear it.

All at once fire roars through your veins, euphoria consuming you as your high crashes over you. Your walls spasm around his digits, painting them with your release.

He doesn’t withdraw from you until you go slack, thighs spreading, body slumping back in your chair, eyes fluttering as a hazy, blissed out smile touches your lips. You can only watch through hooded lids as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sighing in amazement as he sucks them clean. There’s a twinge of arousal in your core as he moans softly at the taste of you on his tongue, a downright lethal sound that somehow manages to rouse your positively spent pussy.

This man is going to be the absolute death of you one of these days.

“Fuck.” You chuckle airily, heady gaze flickered over him lazily, only to do a double take when you notice something standing upright beneath the zipper of his jeans. The corners of your lips twirled into a mirthful grin, eyebrows raising slowly.

“Need some help with that?”

“Yes.” He answers shamelessly and without hesitation, grunting softly as he adjusts himself in the tight confines of his jeans to make the raging hard-on he’s sporting somewhat less obvious. “But not here.”

“I figured. So... your car or mine?”

“Didn’t you just get a new one with reclining seats?” He questions, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lip at the mere implication.

You strike him with a wicked grin, already beginning to shove your things into your bag. “I did indeed.”

“Then what are we— wait.”

“What?”

“You didn’t finish correcting the worksheet yet.” He points out, drumming his fingers across the paper that had completely slipped your mind.

You pull a face, pausing in the act of gathering your belongings long enough to cross your arms pointedly over your chest. “No offense, Kyungsoo, sweetheart, but I’d much rather suck your dick than do one more of those stupid fucking calc problems.”

His brows leap to his hairline, and he offers a single nod of acceptance, in no position to argue with such a valid point.

“Noted.”

[skullrock]

the campers, chapter nine

chapter nine - the savior 

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: You, Steve, and Hopper explore the Upside Down in search for the missing campers. 

warnings: swearin’, angst, violence feat. demogorgons, death! this one is dark folks!

word count: 5.5k

a/n: you can catch up on the series here! sorry I was gone for two months w this story but here u go <3

===

The walkie drops from Steve’s hand and he straightens immediately, pressing his back up against Hopper’s. He holds the bat in both hands now as he scans the area.

It’s always weird, Steve thinks, how much of an impact adrenaline has on his body. He can’t hear anything except his own heartbeat and the rapid breaking of twigs somewhere in front of him. It’s almost an out of body experience - he’s numb to everything except the horror and anticipation. His knuckles turn white against the dark wood of the bat as his eyes flicker around in the near pitch blackness of the dimension.

“Steve, do you copy?”

And Steve does what seems right - he stomps on the walkie until it stops. The moment the sound goes out, the Demogorgon appears, and Steve’s tense muscles falter before stiffening again.

Hopper turns on his heel to stand beside Steve and cocks his rifle before shooting, directly into the opened flora of its head. Steve plants his feet and raises the bat as the thing gets closer. He almost feels like he’s right back at Jonathan’s house, with Jon on one side and Nance on the other. He kind of wishes that was the case, but Hopper would do.

Steve swings the bat as hard as he can once the monster is close enough and the nails slice into the thick skin of the Demogorgon. Both Hopper and Steve groan at the sound of its high-pitched shriek, and Steve rips the bat backwards before hitting it again, right where it’s ribs would be. Hopper fires more shots at it, but Steve knows it takes more than a few bullets to kill one of these things. If it can even be killed.

The Demogorgon’s mouth opens again to cry out and it slashes towards Hopper first, narrowly missing him. Steve arches forward to miss it’s claws before slamming the bat into its neck. When it cries out again, Steve aims towards it’s opened mouth and swings with all of his strength. Hopper takes a shot right after, and that seems to do the trick - the Demogorgon shrivels up on the cold ground. Hopper and Steve assault it a few more times before it finally goes limp, leaving the scene in deafening silence, save for the men’s ragged breathing.

Steve let’s the bat fall to his side, his grip on it easing. Hopper steps forward to look over Steve’s shoulder at the corpse before clapping Steve on the shoulder, sighing. The corner of Steve’s lips quirk up at the validation before he frowns when his eyes land on the obliterated walkie talkie.

It reminds Steve of Jonathan’s camera.

“Shit,” Hopper breathes, kneeling down to pick at the pieces.

Steve feigns innocence and points at the dead Demogorgon. “Must have stepped on it.”

Hopper stands. “We need a walkie.”

Steve looks at him like he’s crazy. “But we - we’re all the way in here -“

“I’ll go forward to look for the kids. You can go back to get a new one, since you broke this one.”

Steve’s mouth opens and shuts. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to split up.”

“We’ll get more done if we do.”

Steve stares before rolling his shoulders, throwing the bat back over them. “Fine. But we need to know where to meet.”

Hopper simply points at the shoe prints in the ground. “Follow these when you get back. I won’t move from them.”

Steve feels like he’s going to throw up at the thought of being alone here, but he knows that they really do need a walkie. So he sighs and nods curtly before taking off, back in the direction they came from.

“Hey, Steve?”

He turns. “Yeah?”

Hopper frowns. “Be careful.”

“No shit,” Steve mumbles, kicking at dead leaves as he continues.

===

You have no idea how literal children are handling this situation better than you, but they are.

El never really struck you as the superpower type, but you watch as she helps the portal open just slightly for you. Mike is completely unfazed, of course, like he’s watched this happen one hundred times. You stare at both of them with your jaw slightly agape before nodding. “Thank you.”

“You need a nickname,” Mike says. “For the transmissions.”

“Who is going to intercept this transmission, Mike?”

“Just -” He sighs loudly. “What should we call you?”

“I don’t give a shit,” you mutter, climbing onto your knees and looking into the portal with uncertainty.

Mike makes a noise of annoyance. “We’ll call you Athena.”

You genuinely couldn't care less, but anxiety pools in your gut as you continue to stare. El takes a small step forward. “Axe first.”

You throw it through to the other side and look up at her and Mike as you touch your waistband for the walkie-talkie you had. Your bandana is secure around your face and the goggles from the science room fog up slightly with each breath you take. If this was a prank, it was a very elaborate and good one.

“I’ll call you,” you say.

“Good luck.”

No one says it’ll be fine, or it’s really not that bad once you get in, or haha this is a big prank and we totally got your ass!. It’s just a somber good luck, with El wringing her hands and Mike clenching his fist.

Still, you continue. You have to find Steve.

===

Steve really does not like being alone in here. He doesn’t like being alone anywhere, but certainly not in the Upside Down. Any noise that he thinks might not be his makes his blood pressure skyrocket. His bat is constantly out in front of him, ready to strike at any second. His knuckles twist the bat tightly, making his fingers go numb.

About thirty minutes pass since he’s left Hopper, and he cannot seem to locate the portal he entered through.

Steve’s starting to get really scared now. He pauses his movements to think hard, eyes taking in the continuous scene of navy and black. Nothing looks familiar, but that’s probably because everything is cloaked in toxic particles and some kind of mucus that makes Steve shutter.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles out loud, taking a small step forward. “Jesus, you’re okay.”

Another small step. Then another.

A clicking sound emerges behind Steve and his blood runs cold. He can suddenly feel a presence behind him, and it sure as shit is not human. The clicking mixes in with a high pitched chittering and Steve’s knees nearly give out, but he turns and swings with the last of his strength.

He thankfully hits the Demogorgon, but the bat gets stuck in its thick skin. Steve pulls back, and pulls back, and pulls back, and he swears the moment before it swipes him it laughs at him.

He hits the ground with an audible thud and groans before rolling, narrowly avoiding its claws again. The bat is stillstuck, sticking out of the Demogorgon’s neck. For the first time, Steve curses his weapon for being useless

He jumps to his feet but is thrown down again. The claws reach him this time, swiping through his jacket and shirt and piercing the skin of his ribs. And Steve screams. He can usually grit his teeth and bare it, but the feeling hurts more than any punch he’d ever encountered. He feels bile rising in his throat and he pushes up, trying to scramble backwards. The fresh blood only motivates the monster, who comes for Steve slowly, chittering and clicking sickeningly.

Somewhere off in the distance, you hear Steve’s scream, and your heart drops to your soles. You take off, sprinting after him, too scared to shout for him. As you get closer to the sound you can hear something else, an unsettling clicking noise, and goosebumps rise on your skin. You still run, though, zeroed in on finding and saving him.

Steve’s pretty pissed. He’s been through a hell of a lot, and this was how he was going to go out. He’s a seasoned survivor and he’s about to die at the hands of the first monster that he ever defeated. And he’s pissed because he’s never going to be able to save those kids, or save the Party, or tell you that maybe he kind of sort of loves you.

Still, he braces himself, figuring that it can’t hurt any more than the pain in his ribs. He squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to think about sitting on that large rock with you at the swimming hole, feeling your soft and warm skin on him again.

Instead of hearing his own screams, though, he hears the Demogorgon let out one, a shrill and painful shriek. Steve opens his eyes curiously and his mouth drops.

You slice through the Demogorgon’s back, exposing a black interior. You pull back with a shout and slam the axe back into it, this time aiming right by the bat stuck in its neck, and it cries out again. It tries to twist back but in a complete moment of fury at the sight of a wounded Steve, you slice it’s head clean off.

The body slumps, but the head rolls, still shrieking. You march towards it and slam the axe into it over and over until it completely stops.

Steve’s never been more in love in his life.

You pant down at the head before looking back to Steve.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Steve.”

You pause for a moment longer before running for him, dropping your axe and kneeling beside him. He winces and hisses, moving his hand to his rib cage. You push it out of the way and examine him, moving back the blood soaked layers to assess the damage. It’s not as bad as you’d thought, but he’s losing a good bit of blood. You help peel his jacket off before tying the arms tightly around the wound, making him cry out.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, tears forming in your eyes. “God, Steve, I’m sorry - so sorry for everything.”

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching for you, resting a blood soaked hand on your cheek before removing it. “Ah, shit -“

You grab his hand and lace your fingers through his. “Steve. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up - I should have trusted you -“

“‘s okay,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry, too. Should’ve just told you.”

“I get why you didn’t,” you laugh sadly, running a hand over his cheek. Your eyes well with more tears as you’re hit with the overwhelming sadness of his situation. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s still a kid. And he’s had to live with this for years.

“Don’t cry,” he says, furrowing his brows. “‘m okay.”

You shake your head and bring it to rest against his, forehead against forehead, eyelashes fluttering together. “I’m just so sorry.”

“Think you made it up to me,” he smiles - or maybe it’s a grimace. “Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

You push him back down when he attempts to stand, but he shakes his head, brows furrowed in concentration. “Gotta get up.”

“You’re hurt,” you say, and he sets his jaw.

“Have to help,” he pants. “Need to save the kids.”

You’d almost forgotten about them in the excitement. Your shoulders slump at the reminder and you have some serious doubts that they could have possibly lived through a hell like this.

Still, you help Steve up. He moves slowly, planting his feet and taking a few shaky breaths once he’s up. He walks towards the corpse of the monster with his back hunched and rips the bat from it’s flesh, wincing a bit as he does. He shakes it to get some excess flesh off before swinging it over his shoulder gingerly.

He looks very good like this, you think.

“Why are you here?” he asks suddenly. “How did you -“

“The kids told me,” you explain, grabbing your axe. “They told me your walkie had gone out and they needed help.”

Steve’s mad for a second before realizing he would have done the same if he was a kid with no other adult to go to.

“Demogorgon broke ours,” he explains. “Well, actually, I broke it -“

“A what?”

“Demogorgon,” he says, nodding towards the body on the ground. “Monster.”

“Like from Dungeons and Dragons?”

“The kids had a theme when naming everything,” he says. “C’mon, we have to go find Hopper.”

“Is he okay?” you ask, following after Steve, who stumbles and moves a lot slower than he had before.

“Who knows,” he mumbles. “Hope so.”

He stops walking for a moment to reach for you, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers through yours. He gives a firm squeeze and looks to you with a sad smile, but you squeeze back in reassurance.

It’s all that needs said.

“Athena to… whatever the hell - I got Steve.”

A cacophony of noises erupt softly from the walkie until Dustin says, “Is he okay?!”

“Doing great,” you lie, trying to not scare them. “We are going to find Hop-”

“Stache,” Steve corrects, only because Mike has yelled at him enough to make him remember.

You stare at Steve in annoyance but Mike also cuts in with, “He’s called Stache.”

“I do not care what the names are. We are going to find him and then we will look for the kids. Okay?”

“Over,” Steve says, and Mike says, “Over,” and you almost have a mental breakdown between the technicalities and the anxiety.

“Over,” you hiss, and turn the walkie off.

You and Steve follow the footprints that he had pointed out to you, hands clenching your weapons tightly. Steve realizes that he’s probably leading a trail straight to the two of you with the blood dripping from his ribs, but he knows he can’t back out of this. He won’t back out of this. He needs to save the kids and put a stop to this.

Eventually, you find Hopper, who’s a bit rugged but otherwise okay. Hopper stares at you for a moment, confused with why you’re here, but Steve simply points to the walkie. Hopper nods and steps towards Steve, suddenly noticing his wound. He examines Steve with worry laced in his brows, touching the fabric over the wound gingerly. “Got you pretty good, huh?”

“Hurts,” Steve mumbles, his fingers still tight around the bat.

Hopper looks to him with a newer expression, one laced more in fear than worry. “It likes blood.”

“I know,” Steve says, shifting. “We - we’ll be alright.”

Hopper is not so convinced, and neither are you, but there really isn’t much of a choice here.

“Have you found anything?” you ask quietly.

Hopper shakes his head, but points off into the distance. “But I bet we’re close.”

In the distance, you can see the buildings of the Camp. Well, this version of the buildings - dilapidated and overgrown.

“You think they’re there?” you ask.

Hopper nods, continuing to look at the buildings. “Will was….”

Your heart drops, remembering the story that the kids had told you. Steve looks sick as well, but everyone moves forward, weapons at the ready once more.

You come upon the main buildings - the cafeteria and the classrooms. The cabins are off in the distance, but Hopper is sure that if the kids were anywhere, they’d be here. He remembers where he found Will and Barb, in a sort of nest at the heart of the city. He reckons if the Demogorgons were going to have a nest, it’d be in one of these buildings.

Your heart leaps to your throat as you approach the buildings, and you stick as close to Steve as you can. He moves slowly, hunched over, but adrenaline keeps him moving. You look at him with concern, but Steve looks straight ahead, trying to act unfazed.

Hopper enters the school building first, raising his rifle and flashlight as he breaches the entrance. Steve ushers you in, looking around the outside before falling in behind you. Hopper looks around at the numerous hallways, before turning to you and Steve. “Somebody want to lead the way?”

Steve looks at you expectantly, and you narrow your eyes. “Come on, we’ve been here for weeks. Do you really not know the layout of this building?”

Steve shrugs innocently in reply and you sigh loudly, pushing past him and Hopper to lead the way. Your knees shake with each step you take, but you force yourself to stay upright. Steve moves in front of Hopper to be close to you. It’s not that he didn’t think Hopper could save you; he just wanted to be the one to do it.

The first few rooms are clear, although some are a bit more decayed than others. You have the fleeting thought that you wished you had brought something to take samples with - but who would ever believe this, anyway? The three of you pushed on, looking into each room slowly, straining to hear any signs of danger.

When you get to a new hallway, everyone splits up, checking the rooms separately to cover ground quicker.

You find the first missing camper.

The room is decayed beyond repair. Vines tangle over the concrete floor, and the same slime-like membrane covers the room and it’s inhabitants. It looks almost like a nest - cocoons on the walls, membranes with web-like appearances attached. But there were undoubtedly bodies in the room, and you stepped one foot over the threshold cautiously. You couldn’t breathe - refused to - as you took another step into the room. Your shoes stuck to the membrane on the ground and it took a bit of effort to keep moving. It felt almost unreal - the atmosphere, the scene before you. Like you were in another world completely - which, you were - but it felt like a nightmare.

Brent Albright was twelve and skinny. He disappeared first. You recognize his body immediately.

Shaking, you knelt down. “Brent?”

There was no response - no stirring, no signs of life. You reach for him and shake his arm, your own shaking violently. “Brent!”

It took every effort in you to not throw up.

“C’mon,” you whisper hoarsely. “C’mon, Brent.” You grab his wrist and feel for a pulse, but find nothing except ice-cold skin and veins.

You try to scream, but nothing comes out. Soon, Hopper and Steve notice your absence, and they find you kneeling on the ground, shaking your head as you stare at his body.

Steve’s knees buckle but he pushes himself forward, following Hopper to kneel beside you.

“Gone,” you whisper.

Hopper reaches to feel the boy’s pulsepoint in his throat, but he knows once he feels his skin that he’s not there. His head droops and he sits his rifle down, cursing under his breath.

Steve shakes so hard that it feels like his organs are vibrating. He stands, takes a sharp breath in, and then strides to another room to vomit.

The scene hurt everyone, but it hurt Steve so much that he felt like he was drowning. He could always save them - he could always be the hero. He thought he’d be able to find the two campers and bring them home, safe and unharmed. But he failed them. He couldn’t bring them home. He couldn’t keep them safe, couldn’t get to them fast enough. And if he couldn’t do that, what could he do?

Steve remembers what Nancy told him about Barb. That El had found her in the Upside Down. Dead. He can’t help but to look around the room and realize that this is where Barb was when she died. Alone and lost and scared, just like Brent. And no one could save her, either, after she was ripped here right in his own backyard.

Will was here, too. Will had to deal with this. Will was probably in the same position - apparently nearly dead when he was found.

Steve digs his nails into his chest, trying to use the pain to ground himself. His head spins and he collapses to the ground, putting his head in his hands, wincing at the pain in his ribs. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.

It feels like he deserves to be next.

In the other room, you and Hopper examine the walls for any other signs of life, but find nothing that’s remotely distinguishable. Everything was flesh and bone.

Hopper rests his hand on your shoulder and sighs heavily. “There’s still a kid out there. We have to find them.”

You nod weakly. “Steve.”

“Go see if you can calm him down,” he says.

You nod and move to where Steve is, the room across from this one. He shakes alone as he curls up in on himself, and you rush for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“It’s all my fault,” he whispers brokenly.

“How?” you ask.

“I couldn’t… I shouldn’t have waited.” He shakes his head and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Jesus, I should have looked for them sooner.”

“How would you have found them here?”

“I don’t know!” he snaps. “But they’re gone, and I couldn’t - I couldn’t do anything.”

Steve understands so deeply how Nancy felt in 1984. And he had brushed her off, terrified that they’d get hurt if they talked about it. He understands how helpless she must have felt, and it makes him feel like there’s a boulder in his stomach, cold and rough.

You wince when you hear him start to cry, and you press him deeply into your side. You feel sick and upset too, but you know you need to be strong for him.

“Steve,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

It makes him cry harder. He doesn’t know if he wants the pity or not, but nonetheless, he feels small and scared and he just wants to go home.

“There’s another kid,” you say gently. “And he needs our help, too. We have to keep going.”

Steve nods and swallows hard. He takes another deep breath - which really isn’t that deep - and sniffles, then stands, grabbing his bat and moving from the room. You follow him, frowning, tears brimming your eyes, too. But you push them back and grab your axe, setting off to find the other.

===

Fred Perkins is found just a couple of doors away. This time around, the kid is breathing.

Hopper finds his pulse, which is faint and slow, but there. He must have been recently dragged in, as he was relatively unharmed, but seemed to have hypothermia or something similar. His lips were blue and his face was paler than anything you’d ever seen - you were surprised he wasn’t a corpse. But you checked his pulse as well, and it was there.

“Fred,” you say, pushing his hair out of his face. “C’mon, buddy. Can you hear me?”

He doesn’t even stir.

“We need to get him back quickly,” Steve says. “I don’t know how much longer he can be here.”

Hopper nods, but you pause. “Isn’t the nearest portal the one that’s almost half an hour away by foot?”

“Do you want to leave him here?”

“No,” you snap. “But it’s not going to be easy, and your ribs are already messed up -”

“We can do it,” Steve says. “We have to do it.”

Your eyes linger on him for a moment before you look back down at Fred. You wish you’d brought a blanket or an extra jacket for him, but there’s nothing you can use. “Hop and I can carry him. Steve, just keep an eye open for us, okay?”

Steve stiffens, irritated, wanting to help. “But -”

“Steve.” Your voice is quiet and sincere, and he drops it.

“What about Brent?” he asks. “We can’t leave him here.”

Hopper sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “We don’t have much of a choice.”

Steve nearly becomes belligerent at this. “Leave him here? You want us to just leave him here? All alone?”

“Steve, it’s too dangerous. We can’t.”

“We can come back for him later,” you say, although it’s a lie. Eleven needs to close the portals - there’s no coming back. “We need to worry about Fred right now. Okay?”

Steve takes a slow, deep breath and nods, gripping his bat tighter. “Okay. Okay. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Hopper really doesn’t have much of an issue carrying the child, since he’s small and skinny and had very obviously lost some weight. As he carries Fred, you call the kids back at camp.

“This is Athena, can you hear me?”

“This is Paladin, what’s your twenty?”

“We found Fred,” you say. You think it’s probably best to leave out Brent’s fate. “We’re coming back to the portal to get him out of there. It’ll take us a bit, but stay on the lookout. Have you seen anything on your side?”

“No,” Mike answers. “But El keeps having to reopen the portal. It keeps wanting to close.”

You share a glance with Steve and Hopper. “O-okay. We’ll move as fast as we can. Over.”

You clip the walkie back onto your waistband and follow closely beside Hopper, your axe over one shoulder. You pay more attention to Fred than to the woods around you, but Steve is luckily very aware of everything. Every crunch makes you all halt, looking around like prey before continuing once no threat is made obvious.  The walk feels like an eternity, and there are times where Hopper needs to rest and adjust; he still refuses any help, which irritates you, but only for a moment. You’re not sure if you could really help much.

Your worry drifts to Steve, who hasn’t said much of anything and whose jaw is perpetually clamped tightly shut. You quicken your pace to walk with him, and you run your hand down his arm in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve licks his lips, sniffles, and shakes his head just slightly.

“How are your ribs?”

“Medium rare.”

You smile slightly and bump into him. “We’re almost back. We’ll get you help.”

Steve nods, but he’s distracted. Though he can’t see anything, he feels some imminent danger that he can’t shake. The woods are dark and too quiet, and the fine hair on his neck stands on end. His hands wring around the bat as he looks around and scans the trees for any signs of danger. It’s so important to him in this moment that he protects you and Hopper and Fred. After letting down Brent, he cannot - will not - let anyone else get hurt. He’ll die to protect you if he has to.

After what feels like a hundred years, you arrive back at the portal you’d gone through. A massive wave of relief runs through you as you approach and you can’t help but to almost skip as you get closer to the portal. You call through to El and Mike who answer immediately, their own relief evident in their voices.

Steve protects you and Hopper as you kneel on the ground. “We’re sending Fred through first,” you say, helping Hopper lay him down gently. “We need to get him back to camp as soon as possible, he’s in really bad shape.”

You help Hopper feed Fred through to where Mike and El are able to grab him and bring him to the other side. You can’t help but to smile widely - you did it. You made it. Steve’s alive, Hopper’s alive, and one kid is alive. You did it.

Something snaps nearby.

Immediately on alert, Hopper jumps up and grabs his gun off the holster. You grab your axe and stand by him, behind Steve, who announces, “Company.”

You hear something wet behind you and whip around - the portal is closing. The portal is closing.

“El,” you call. “The portal -”

It closes.

“Guys.”

“What?” Hopper snaps, eyes trained on the darkness expanding in front of you.

“The portal closed.”

Both men’s shoulders - and weapons - drop as they spin to confirm your observation.

“What the -” Steve starts, but a similar, eerie clicking noise fills the air.

“Demogorgon.”

It clicks in Steve’s head within a split second - they’d been following the four of you this entire time. They planned this. An ambush. They closed the portal to corner you. Steve’s blood left the trail.

Clever shits, Steve thinks, before his bat swings at a Demogorgon that had sprung towards him.

You shout for him, but one emerges to your left. You slice through its arm with your axe, cringing as it lets out a piercing scream. You hear Hopper unloading his gun beside you, but you keep going, slicing at the monster before it eventually crumples and falls to the floor. You jump when something grabs your arm, but it’s only Steve, who quickly pulls you to run from the tree. You hear more snarling behind you and you feel like you can’t breathe with the bandana and goggles fogging up. Steve keeps pulling you though, and Hopper runs beside you, occasionally pausing to shoot back behind him.

What Hopper and Steve know, and what you don’t know, is that bullets don’t do shit to these things. The only time Steve ever saw one of them disappear was when he had set one on fire with Nancy and Jonathan - and even then, he couldn’t be certain that it actually died. It seemed that slicing through them was good enough, but maybe it wasn’t - maybe they could form themselves again. Either way, your chances weren’t looking good, and Steve’s heart plummets when he realizes what he has to do.

Steve suddenly stops running and Hopper goes to help him move along, but he shakes his head and nearly shoves him away.

“What is it?” you ask quickly. “Are - are you hurting? Can you not -”

“Go,” he says, turning around, and walking back the way you came.

You lunge for him, grabbing onto his arm, pulling him towards you. “No. No. This isn’t time to be hero, Steve -”

“They’re right,” Hopper says, taking a step towards Steve. “C’mon, we need to -”

A piercing wail pierces the air. They were getting closer.

“It’s my fault,” Steve says quickly. “It’s my fault. My blood -”

“I don’t care if it’s your fault, Steve -”

“Please.” His voice cracks. “Please. Go.”

“Not without you!”

“Kid, come on -”

Steve shakes his head and cups your cheek with his hand. “Right behind you. I’m right behind you. Go.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, reaching up to your throat. You feel like you’re suffocating. “Steve, please, not again, can’t lose you -”

But he leaves, marching towards the darkness, bat raised and shoulders back. Hopper tries to grab him, but Steve moves with such purpose that the universe itself could not call him back.

Hopper forces you to run, grabbing your arm and pulling you along. You wait to hear any noises of Steve’s certain death, but it’s eerily quiet. Only your breaths and footsteps make any noise.

You soon after land on the camp’s main buildings once more. Your mind races as you try to think of places to hide, but Hopper can see something bright and luminescent at the bottom of the lake. He stops to squint, and realizes that it’s a portal. An odd place for a portal, but a portal nonetheless. It’s your only option.

You’re confused as Hopper pulls you towards the pier, but you quickly understand as your eyes land on the open mass at the bottom. You almost stop running. “No way!”

“Hope you can swim,” Hopper says, and although you can, you’re not so sure you can survive that long - not when your heart hurts from beating, with your lungs on fire, with the absence of Steve cutting through your gut like blades. Not without him.

“But Steve -”

Hopper grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him. “We have to. We can’t wait. He’ll be right behind us, he’s more than capable, but we need to go now.”

Your eyes dart back to the woods, then to Hopper. “Right behind me?”

“Promise,” he says. “I’m right behind you.”

You nod, legs and arms shaking. Your eyes move towards the woods one more time, hoping Steve would emerge, but there’s nothing except silence. You take a deep breath and step towards the edge of the pier, then another, then another. Your lungs contract and expand; your legs feel weak and on fire; and you feel your chest expand one more time before plunging into the water.

===

taglist (join here!): @troop-scoop @therealestdookie @jasontoddisfantastical @mybestfriendthedingus@anonymousonion23 @darth-el @unknownherelm @random-thoughts-003 @metuel18 @dark-academics-and-florals@magicstrengthandcourage @mathchampagne@magnitude101999 @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @sunshine-and-riverwater @scooprtroopr @heart-eye-harrington @kurtsbuckethat @comedy-witch @mochminnie @thatkidofwarandpeace @lukeskisses @ssanjuniperoo @harrington-ofhawkins @write-from-the-heart @yazmin626 @charmedtenderness @anotherr-fine-mess @elusive-cryptid @dungeons-and-demodogs @superstarchick @strangest-hour @whataloadofmalarkey @whimsicalwoodlands @stevexscoops @multi-fandom-freak-lol @persephone-nymph @henderson89 @ohmyitsfaith @obrxsey @prettysbliss @ilovebucketbarnes @theworriedman​ @insideafictionaluniverse​

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #229: FINAL CURTAIN!

March, 1983

"THIS IS IT! Henry Pym’s Last Stand Against... THE EVIL OF EGGHEAD!”

Why does this have Egg Fu energy? Obviously very much less racist but giant egg shaped head looming over things...

Please don’t grow a mustache, Egghead.

Wow, this arc has been going on for a while. With a lot of interruptions, mind.

But we had Hank rejoin the Avengers, do a bad job, build a robot to murder his friends to try to make them forget the first bad job he did, get kicked out of the Avengers, and got tricked by Egghead into committing treason and arrested. Egghead decided to take over the world via inventing eternal youth, put together a new Masters of Evil who immediately got their asses kicked, and then the Masters kidnapped Hank from his trial.

All to bring us to the Final Curtain, which is similar but legally distinct from the Final Countdown.

I’ve seen some sad Hanks but I think “framed into being a fugitive and forced to do science for his worst enemy” Hank is the saddest looking Hank.

He has a thousand yard stare WHILE carefully considering a chemical compound.

This is possibly because while he sciences, Egghead is hanging right over his shoulder being excessively chipper and calling Hank “partner.”

Hank: “I’d love to shove those words down his throat! It’s galling enough to be working for my oldest enemy, without having him call me ‘partner.’”

Guy also puts his hand on Hank’s shoulder chum-style and offers to get him some breakfast while Hank probably fantasizes about making scrambled eggs.

Later that morning, over in New Orleans, Monica Rambeau!

I’m still very hype about Monica Rambeau finally being in this book.

She’s sitting around in her nice home watching the news about the trial and the “dramatic escape” of Hank Pym and also Iron Man has disappeared. That’s on the news too.

Monica: “Uh-oh! I don’t like the sound of that! A disappearance, now of all times, by any of the regular Avengers could mean heavy trouble! Someone’s bound to accuse them of helping in Dr. Pym’s escape! It might not be a bad idea to look in on my new friends -- as Captain Marvel!”

She nyooms light speed from New Orleans to the Avengers Mansion.

Inside, Cap and Thor are discussing how neither Iron Man or Tony Stark have been seen in nearly a week. And Cap is worried because its not like Tony.

But he has to stop talking when Monica comes in because she’s not in on the secret.

Captain Marvel: “Hi, hope I’m not interrupting anything. I thought I’d drop by and... well... see how everyone was doing.”

Thor: “In truth, woman, the Avengers have known happier times.”

Captain America: “I’m afraid Thor’s right, Captain. A former Avenger’s disgrace is national news. Iron Man’s vanished. And the She-Hulk may be no more. Things... aren’t good.”

Monica is kind of taken aback by this because “These are two of the most capable men I’ve ever met! If they’re feeling down and out, what hope is there for the rest of us?”

Meanwhile, in specifically the second-floor study, Hawkeye is sitting with Jennifer Walters Not-Hulk and the Wasp.

And Hawkeye is surprised that She-Hulk’s other self is “so small and... fragile.”

Wasp is trying to reassure Jen that they want to help her but Jen is feeling helpless.

Jen: “I-I know that, Janet. .. B-b-but I still feel so helpless. Things seemed different when I was the She-Hulk! She could handle everything -- or so I thought! She didn’t do much against the Radioactive Man, did she? One blast of charged gamma rays from him, and my life as the She-Hulk was a thing of the past!”

I mean, I wouldn’t say not much. She-Hulk tossed Radioactive Man around pretty easily before the gamma blast.

Wasp tells her that the gamma-charge must have worn off by this point but Jen is too afraid to try again because she can’t face the thought of another failure and what that might mean.

She kiiiiinda blew up her life back in California to go be She-Hulk full-time. The comic doesn’t point this out but I am. She kinda blew off her supporting cast and law career to go on a cross-country trip and then moved to New York for brunch and Avengers.

Wasp is called away by Jarvis, who says there’s an urgent caller for her, leaving Jen alone with Hawkeye.

... Which, may have been a bad idea or at least a very hilarious one.

Hawkeye: “I can’t believe what’s happening to the Avengers! We’ve had bad breaks before, but this -- ! Even ol’ Cap’s been looking like one of the walkin’ wounded! I need to do something to get us back on our feet! Maybe I can start with the little lady.”

Y’know, Captain Marvel and Hawkeye both noting how dire things are feeling around the Mansion is doing a really good job at selling this as one of their darkest moments.

Nobody ever talks about this as one of those moments but the comic is making a good case for it.

At the front door the urgent matter is! SCOTT LANG!

Sight for sore eyes!

He’s here on an errand for Mr. Stark. But unfortunately he also has no idea where Tony has gotten.

Scott Lang: “All of Stark International’s in an uproar! First, Mr. Stark asks me to finish up one of his rush projects for the Avengers -- something he never does! Then he and that iron-clad bodyguard of his pull a disappearing act! And now, the tube is full of news about Hank Pym running off with something called the Masters of Evil! Wasp... what’s going on?”

Wasp: “I honestly don’t know, Scott! Sometimes I’d swear that the whole world is falling apart on us!”

Hey! More dialogue really selling how dire things are!

Scott gives her the project Tony had him complete and tells Wasp that Tony told him that Cap would know about it.

Which indicates that Scott finished this project and doesn’t know what it is or does. Wow.

He also offers to change into Ant-Man and lend a hand but Wasp hurries him out the door and slams it behind him.

Which is a rude way to treat a Scott Lang but in Wasp’s defense she couldn’t bear seeing someone dressed as Ant-Man when she has all these Hank feelings.

Captains America and Marvel and also Thor wander in. Cap(tain America) is telling Monica that there’s nothing they can do until they get a lead on Hank’s whereabouts.

Wasp, who was just handed a thing and told that Cap would know about it, hands it to Cap and asks him if it would be any help.

Cap(tain America) recognizes it as the miniaturized version of the cerebral scanner helmet that Tony was working on.

Captain America: “It was Iron Man’s theory that Hank’s recent problems were due to preset commands Moondragon had telepathically planted in his mind. This helmet was supposed to check that out. Now... I guess we’ll never get a chance to use it.”

This defeatism is finally a defeatism too far for Monica who blows up at the Avengers.

Captain Marvel: “Hey, just a darned minute! Is this the Avengers that I’m supposed to be joining, or an encounter group? I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Look, I know you’ve been through an emotional wringer for the past couple of months, but you can’t let it get to you like this! You folks don’t get much press west of the Hudson River, but what little word that does filter out is filled with awe! You’re the Avengers! You’re legends -- every one of you! You’ve probably saved this poor world more times than anyone can even guess! And you can pull through this crisis, too! But not if you keep acting the way you’ve been!”

Huh, more of a ‘dare to be badass’ than a real dressing down.

Also, its so weird that the Avengers are simultaneously a weird New York thing and also known for saving the world multiple times.

Thor, as Thor do when anyone dares to criticize him, gets indignant but Wasp interrupts that whole impending shouting match and asks what Captain Marvel has in mind.

(This is why Wasp is a good leader, by the by)

Captain Marvel says they should try to look at things from another angle. What if, and hear her out, what if Hank really was set up by Egghead like he claimed to be before the trial?

Egghead is dead? THE AVENGERS FIGHT PEOPLE THAT HAVE BEEN ASSUMED DEAD A LOT, YOU GUYS.

Geez, where has Monica been? She’s a breath of fresh thought on this team.

Monica also has another galaxy brain idea. Slash probably turn of phrase that inspires a galaxy brain idea. Like in a mystery where an innocuous statement cracks the whole thing WIDE OPEN.

Captain Marvel: “And this man you caught -- the Shocker -- the one who claims that Pym reorganized the Masters of Evil to free him -- maybe he’s the one who’s crazy, instead of Dr. Pym! Maybe it’s the Shocker who should have his head examined!”

And Cap(tain America) is like hey I just got this head examining helmet from Tony!

Meanwhile, in the second floor study, Hawkeye has decided to Help.

Be afraid.

Nah, just funning.

Look, this is all perfectly in character for Hawkeye and for Hulks in general. He’s just going to be extremely rude (he has trained his whole life for this) and make fun of Jen until something happens.

And he is pretty rude.

So rude that she smeks him across the face. But because she hasn’t had her Jen training arc yet, Hawkeye just laughs at her.

So she hits him again.

Hawkeye: “My, my! Both cheeks slapped and I’m still on my feet! Is that the best you can do, She-Wimp?”

Then he laughs and laughs and gets punched out of the room by a furious She-Hulk.

He quickly begs for peace, claiming he didn’t mean what he said.

So in the end, all she needed to break the mental block preventing her from turning into She-Hulk was Hawkeye being even more obnoxious than usual.

He does have his uses. Shoots arrow, pisses people off, apparently fun to be around??

Its hard to imagine future burned out trash-fire Clint Barton doing this. He’s much more mellow in how he’s obnoxious now. Although, he roasted Tony Stark good in the Freefall mini.

Y’know, She-Hulk and Hawkeye are friends later. And I don’t know if that’s because She-Hulk becomes everyone’s friend when she moves into more fun party She-Hulk territory. But I can also imagine that despite not liking each other much to begin with, She-Hulk and Hawkeye just grow on each other.

When Wasp praises Jen for being able to transform again, She-Hulk admits that Hawkeye helped.

Then Cap tells them to stop goofing, they’ve got business.

And the business is at the federal lock-up.

The Avengers want to use Tony Stark’s special cerebral scanner helmet on Shocker. His lawyer is like hell no. Shocker himself is like I’m down for whatevs.

Shocker: “Hey, if they want to plunk that pressure cooker on my noggin, it’s okay by me! I’m facing a pretty stiff federal rap, after all. I’m willing to cooperate. It doesn’t bother me. If I passed the polygraph test, I can pass this!”

The lawyer still protests so She-Hulk whips out some of her ol’ legal expertise. Which she is not licensed to practice in a professional capacity in the state of New York.

She-Hulk: “Your boy was caught participating -- in either a kidnapping or an escape -- in full view of witnesses. He’s in big trouble. The scanner helmet will tell us if he’s been manipulated by outside forces. And cancel any mental blocks or false memories. Now, wouldn’t you like to go into court with something that could prove your client was used against his will?”

... I’m baffled that this new technology whose inventor has gone missing could just easily be used as evidence in court.

Like, on who’s word are they saying that this device works? Has it been vouched by anyone? How do they even know that it works at all? It was finished by Scott Lang who is a good electrical engineer but didn’t know what he was working on!

But if I can believe a man can fly, I’ll buy this.

And its funny, Shocker goes from ‘yeah I doubt this will mean anything’ to immediately remembering and spilling the beans that he was set up by Egghead.

Which means that he’s alive and Hank’s defense has merit. God damn!

I like that the cerebral helmet does factor into the plot, even if in an unexpected way. Poor, disappeared Tony Stark’s feverish throwing himself into this project out of a guilty drive to help Hank will help Hank, in some way!

Meanwhile, in the secret and sinister suburban lair of Egghead’s Masters of Evil, Hank Pym brushes off his hands and goes ‘yup I’ve finished inventing your eternal life machine, can I go now?’

Egghead and the Masters call BS because its been three days. No way did Hank already finish the machine. Egghead was thinking it would be months of research before Hank could even begin working on a design.

Hank: “Admittedly, I was lucky in stumbling upon a breakthrough in micro-cellular reconstruction. But then, you did bring me here to produce results. That’s what I’ve done.”

Moonstone asks how close an eye Egghead kept on Hank, since Egghead is the only one truly familiar with the project.

The answer is: not very!

So now they’re worried that if they plug someone into the device, it’ll just kill them.

Tiger Shark goes ‘hey lets just test it on Hank’ and Hank goes ‘yeah whatever.’

Hank: “I stand behind my work 100%. I’ll be your guinea pig, if you’re all so afraid of gaining a long and vital life!”

Egghead: “Don’t use that tone with me, Henry Pym! I think I might enjoy using you as a guinea pig! Strap him in, boys -- good and tight!”

Tiger Shark, whose idea this was in the first place, suddenly considers ‘what if this is a long and weird way for Hank to commit suicide?’ but Hank says he would have ended it three days ago if he was that tired of living.

Egghead: (He’s right. As dispirited as Pym has been, he never became suicidal. Despite all the travails I put him through, I was never able to break him that completely. Pity. Perhaps I’ll try again... after the test.)

GOOD GRIEF EGGHEAD

I know that you’re evil and petty but geez that’s a new low.

Then again, this is the guy who blew up his niece’s arm out of spite.

So, yeah, driving to suicide the guy that made your eternal youth technology possible is about what I’d expect of you, Egghead.

The worst.

When they have Hank strapped into the longevity machine and switch it on, Hank starts to glow.

Which is probably not what is supposed to happen.

Also what is not supposed to happen, the machine creates a force field around Hank.

And also overrides the guidance systems in Beetle’s armor, making him fly all over the place bonking into stuff.

I have a sneaking suspicion that this isn’t actually a longevity machine!

No, in fact, Hank Pym played them all by going ‘yeah sure throw me into the briar patch, I don’t give a shit.’

Tiger Shark tries to rip Hank out of the machine but gets thrown away with a ZZAKK.

Moonstone tries her luck too.

Moonstone: “Your electrified field is very effective against brute force, doctor -- but can it resist a high-intensity laser blast?”

-it does-

Hank: “You tell me!”

The sass!

The lasers deflect off the field joining the bouncing Beetle in destroying the lab.

Egghead has duck and covered beneath a table and demands one of the Masters stop Hank.

A call to action that Radioactive Man takes up, charging the machine.

Radioactive Man: “You are even more capable than I thought, Dr. Pym. But your miraculous fields will not long withstand the power of my nuclear heat!”

Hank: “Probably not! But it doesn’t have to! I’ve had days to prepare defenses against all of you!”

Cadmium-plated tentacles come out of the machine and grab Radioactive Man.

Geez, really nobody was making sure Hank wasn’t up to anything so he got away with everything!

The cadmium dampens Radioactive Man’s radioactive so Hank uses him to knock out Tiger Shark.

Ah, yes. I do love a good grievous harm with a body instance.

Moonstone: “Incredible! Together, we possess nearly as much raw power as the Avengers themselves -- and yet one man has nearly overcome us in a matter of minutes!”

And since she’s Moonstone and practically the only supervillain who knows when to fold ‘em, she tries to skedaddle.

But Hank also built disruption stunners into the not-longevity machine’s manacles, like the ones he used as Yellowjacket, and he blasts Moonstone as she tries to flee.

Leaving Egghead to gape that Hank has singlehandedly defeated his Masters of Evil!

MEANWHILE, up in suburbia, the Avengers!

Remember them? They’re the title of the book.

Shocker spilled the beans to the Avengers because, honestly, fuck Egghead for using him as a patsy. So the Avengers and some copspolice have assembled outside Egghead’s secret house.

The cops are to evacuate the neighborhood in case the Avengers need to do a big punch-up.

Caring about bystanders, a thing that the Avengers do some of the times.

The Avengers also got the house plans from the county records office because they’re doing this raid right.

Problem is, they’re unlikely to be accurate because they don’t have an evil lair listed on them.

So Cap and Wasp are strategizing, planning to surround the house and work their way in slowly and quietly so the Masters don’t use Hank as a hostage.

Then everything explodes. And by everything, I mean the yard of the house.

Beetle burst out from underground, completely ruining the lawn and flies around out of control.

He warns the Avengers that he can’t control his flight and tells them to look out.

The Avengers mostly jump out of the way.

Mostly.

Thor just stands still with his hammer held out for Beetle to run into so hard that Mjolnir seems to disappear.

Beetle falls to the ground, all momentum instantly converted into horrific agony.

Like seriously. He’s going to be feeling that forever. No wonder he later jumps at the chance to flip good, rather than ever experience that again.

Wasp and Cap(tain America), strategy geniuses, decide that at this point, stealth is pointless but Hawkeye is way ahead of them.

I don’t see him in the panel where the Avengers scatter or in the panel where Beetle is falling off Thor’s fist so I think that the instant the ground exploded Hawkeye was like ‘this hole was made for me’ and immediately jumped down it to leeroy jenkins the rescue Hank plan.

Its a very him thing to do.

Plus, as he muses to himself, he has his own score to settle with Egghead.

I.e., that time that Egghead killed his brother Barney Barton. The crime brother? From the time we learned that Hawkeye actually had a name?

That time.

At the bottom of the exit wound Beetle left in the house, Hawkeye peeps in and is astounded to find the Masters of Evil lying defeated in various heaps with Hank Pym standing victorious over them, casually unhooking himself from the not-longevity machine.

As Hawkeye watches, Hank tells Egghead that he can come out of hiding because its all over.

And then delivers a massive ‘the reason you suck’ speech to Egghead, which coming from Hank Pym is doubly biting because Hank Pym knows what a trashfire he’s made of his own life and still says Egghead is worse.

Hank Pym: “I did a pretty good job of screwing up my life recently. You just about finished the job for me! You used me, Egghead... and you tried to make me criminal! But you couldn’t. You see, I’ve come to terms with myself in the past month. I know who I am, and who I’m not! I’m not Ant-Man anymore. I’m not Giant-Man... or Goliath... or Yellowjacket! I’m Henry Pym!

“And it was Henry Pym who beat the Masters of Evil! You, Egghead... you turned to crime because you thought your scientific knowledge made you better than everyone else... put you above the law! But you were wrong. You weren’t above the law, and you weren’t better! I’m the better scientist... I just proved that!”

“I assembled the pieces of your downfall -- right under your nose!”

Egghead takes exception to being told how much he sucks, and leaps at Hank to, I guess, try to beat him up, saying he hasn’t beaten Egghead yet.

So Hank beats Egghead yet.

Hank: “Oh... I was hoping you’d try that!”

After all that Hank’s been through in this vague arc and at the hands of Egghead, it is very satisfying to effortlessly turn the tables on the villains, deck Egghead, and prove that while he has spotty success as a superhero, he’s no villain.

This vague arc has broken Hank down to nothing. He ruined his marriage, his superhero career, abandoned his science career as fruitless. He was broke, so desperate as to take a loan from his arch-nemesis. Framed for treason and left to pay for Egghead’s adamantium scheme. Sent to jail and derided as worse than the supervillains there. Worse for having fallen from grace. Gave up winning back his wife after seeing her date one of his friends. Abandoned hope for anything but to win back his dignity and good name in a court of law. Had that taken from him as well.

And stripped of absolutely everything, Hank Pym proved that he is one of the finest scientists in Marvel, a crafty SOB, and owner of a dynamite right hook.

Then with Egghead sprawled on the floor, Hank turns to leave.

But Egghead is a petty, petty, evil, evil man. That hasn’t stopped being a thing so he pulls out a science gun to shoot Hank in the back.

Hawkeye jumps out of the beetle hole and shoots an arrow in the barrel of the science gun, making the science gun backfire kirby krackle.

Hawkeye: “Brother, that was close -- but everything’s gonna be okay now, Hank! We have all the evidence we need to clear you and put that creep behind bars!”

Hank: “Egghead won’t be serving any time, Hawkeye. He’s dead.”

DUN DUN DUN

Hawkeye, you’ve become a killer! And it didn’t even take a Bendis to drive you to it!

Well, maybe a man-slaughterer...

Follow @essential-avengers​ because I bring you the good Hank Pym content. The Hank Pym punching Egghead content. The best content. Also like and reblog, possibly. For the Hawkeye man-slaughtering Egghead content.

[kayr0ss]

Appointments Chapter 4: Toby’s Fate

[LWA, Diakko, Small Town AU, Fluff and Slow Romance, Pining™ lol]

Chapter 1 & Table of Contents AO3 Link

“I refuse!” Akko shook her head vigorously, biting her lip to keep herself from hissing in pain.

“You are literally bleeding!” Lotte flailed her arms in exasperation, unsure what to do with her friend and growing queasy at the sight of blood at the same time.

It happened. Lotte had warned her, and it finally happened.

Toby’s great betrayal.

Biting the hand that feeds him.

“Don’t force her if she doesn’t want to go.” Sucy casually sipped her stark-and-very-very-dark cup of coffee. They were holed up in Jasminka’s café, tucked in the corner booth that their trio called ‘home base’ on Friday afternoons. “I’ve always wanted to test a serum out on a rabies patient.”

Lotte fiercely held a finger up to her face. “Just—no.”

The little girl called Constanze (who was apparently their age—surprise!) had trotted quietly over with a glass full of ice to numb the pain and some clean napkins.

“Thank you,” Lotte supplied, still fussing over Akko’s wound.

The small girl gave them a thumbs up and then stood at the edge of the scene to quietly observe.

It was only a short moment before Jasminka arrived, phone in hand with a concerned expression. “How are you feeling? I’ve given Ms. Parker a call; they’ll be expecting you at the clinic.”

“No!” Akko whined. “No way!”

If she weren’t so worried, Lotte’s eyes could have rolled backwards into her skull. “If there was a time to swallow your pride, it would be now. I thought you and Dr. Cavendish agreed you were friends?”

“Not when it comes to Toby!”

Akko wasn’t about to go running to her friend-yet-rival’s den. No, she hasn’t forgotten what happened the week prior within the walls of this very café: the battle for Toby’s fate. Only minutes after agreeing to Akko’s declaration of friendship, the stern Dr. Cavendish called Toby a ‘danger to those around him’, most especially since he was a wild, stray cat. Akko found herself swallowing down a tirade of disapproval. It wasn’t a very convincing explanation, at least by her standards. She had no idea what anaphylaxis or atopic dermatitis meant—much less how much antihistamines cost! And so Akko had fired back, unrelenting in her mission to convince the good people of Blytonbury that this furry feline friend of hers deserved a place in the square just as much as everyone else. Amanda even backed her up, “for the heck of it—and because I think you’ve got a stick up your ass, Cavendish!”

But the doctor was resolute. She even had the gall to look good while running her mouth!

“You said that out loud,” Lotte sighed.

“Huh?” the brunette blinked.

“The gall to look good?” Sucy actually laughed.

“My point is—” Akko practically yelled, “—this is going to be so bad for all the hard work I’ve been doing to make sure Toby isn’t taken away.”

“Animal shelters were made to care for strays,” Lotte tried to placate her. “And you’ve seen it yourself, Toby actually bit you!”

“And Constanze will shoot you,” Jasminka interjected with a with an eerie smile, “if you do not make your way towards the clinic right now.”

Lotte’s eyes grew the size of saucers. “Is that a gun? Are you—do you have a license for that?!”

--

“I’m beginning to suspect that I’ll be seeing you far more often that I’d like, given all the trouble you find yourself in.”

It was probably the fifteenth time that patient Atsuko-Kagari-with-red-eyes-and-Blood-type-O+ huffed and groaned while Diana tended to her. Thankfully, the brunette had come to her immediately after the incident as immediate post-exposure prophylaxis for rabies could be a matter of life-or-death. At the side of her hand was a puncture wound, with the pinky knuckle distal to it by a few centimeters. It seems the infamous stray cat had sunk its teeth deep enough to cause a significant amount of bleeding—it didn’t help that the human hand is known to house an impressively dense network of blood vessels.

So, more bleeding.

“Cat bites actually cause more serious infections than dog bites do,” Diana quipped.

“Huh.” Atsuko winced when Diana swabbed the open wound with alcohol.

“They can likewise give you Pasteurellosis, and ‘kennel cough’—which can turn into a serious case of pneumonia. Can you press down on the area with this cotton ball?”

Her patient begrudgingly obliged, pressing the damp ball of cotton against the wound. Diana turned in her swiveling chair, discarding her soiled pair of gloves into the bin and opening a small, half-sized refrigerator. She took out an ice pack and began to wrap it in a thin towel. She placed the ice pack on the trolley beside her patient which held all her tools, and gestured for the brunette to hold out her hand before slipping on a fresh pair of surgical gloves. “You can take the pressure off now, and I’ll dress the wound.”

“I actually thought I might get scratched, but not bitten.” Atsuko admitted, looking a little sheepish.

“Most people associate cat-related injuries to abrasions by way of claw scratches, but a surprising amount—five to fifteen percent, depending on the country—of bite wounds come from cats.” Diana handed her the ice pack once the dressing was through. “Which hand do you write with?”

Atsuko blinked. “Ano—my right hand?”

“Alright,” Diana handed her the towel-wrapped ice pack. “I need you to roll up your left sleeve to expose the shoulder and ice the area.”

“What for?”

“To numb the pain.”

“Pain?!”

“I’ll need to give you shots. The two most threatening infections you could acquire from this bite are tetanus toxoid and rabies. Your medical history showed you’ve had your vaccinations, but a booster shot is usual for adults who’ve been exposed or bitten, and once every ten years.” Diana elegantly gestured towards two, small bottles which she’d taken out from the fridge alongside the ice pack. They had a small dose of clear liquid and were placed beside two unopened—menacing—syringes.

“Mou!” Atusko wailed. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you!”

Diana blinked. “Pardon?”

The brunette’s lip was sticking out in an accusatory pout. “Fine! You were right—I totally got bitten and it proves your point about Toby, and now you’re totally prepared as if you saw it coming a hundred miles away.”

She was taken aback, blinking at her patient and unsure how to proceed. “I…” she dropped her gaze towards the tray of surgical equipment, “I thought that your insistence on pestering the cat might have ended up in a bite anyway, and didn’t want to take the risk of being unprepared in case you’d need it.”

“Ack,” Atsuko looked like she wanted to facepalm, and then gave her a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry—you’re right. That was a bit bratty of me.”

“Apology accepted.”

“So…” the brunette deliberate drawled out. “How long is this ice pack thingy gonna take before it does its magic? Because my arm is getting cold!”

“Around ten minutes,” Diana succinctly replied. “Rabies VIS is introduced intradermally.”

Her patient simply stared expectantly.

“Into the skin rather than the muscle, which is unfortunately much more painful.”

Atsuko sighed, resigned to her fate. “Well, thanks… I guess.”

“Hmm?”

“For, you know.” She huffed, putting on an expression that said ‘this is so difficult to admit!’. “Being prepared so I don’t get rabies.”

Diana blinked, and then actually found herself chuckling. “I’d be a painfully substandard doctor to do otherwise.”

“Which reminds me, you’re a… what kind of doctor are you again?”

She realized she didn’t actually know how to respond to Atsuko, seeing as this seemed to be their first ‘civil’ conversation. “I’m currently a general practitioner.”

“Yeah?”

Diana simply nodded to say, ‘that’s it.’

At the very young age of twenty-five, she’s only had her license and practice for a little over a year. The whole point of moving to Blytonbury was aligned with her objective of securing a residency in cardiology at the LNU’s SBM Medical Center—but that was still subject to change, and general practice gave her enough all-around experience to get a feel for where she might want to go.

“Well,” it seems the brunette decided to take reins of the conversation, “I’m studying at LNU—as you already know, and for the record I haven’t been late since!”

Cue Diana’s eyeroll.

“I finished music school, but I’m taking a post-graduate degree in Humanities so I can qualify as a university-level professor someday.”

“Oh.” Diana perked up, completely blindsided by this new piece of information. A professor?

“Apparently you can’t just teach music class cause you’re good at it, you need a higher degree.” Atsuko sighed dramatically. “Humanities units, and like—even units in science and math and later on I’ll need to take some education classes. But guess what—” her entire body language changed from disdain to excitement, “—I actually picked going here cause they have one of the best lecturers for ‘Enhanced Practice in Music Teaching and Learning’, but that’s still a few semester down the line for me—"

“That’s really specific.” And completely foreign to her. She’d had piano lessons at most, but life after high-school was simply consumed by the never-ending demands of medical education.

“—so for now I’m just taking two subjects and maybe join the running club.”

The running club?

A little idea had bloomed merrily (deviously?) in Diana’s head. “You’re familiar with Dr. Meridies, aren’t you?”

Atusko nearly shuddered, “my crazy-ass Physics professor?”

Diana checked her watch, noting it had been ten minutes. “Yes.” She motioned for her patient to settle the ice pack down. “What are the chances of you being able to convince her of occasionally joining the running club’s engagements?”

The brunette looked at her like she grew two heads. “Like—zero!”

She didn’t mean to do it on purpose—she really didn’t—it just so happened that this conversation coincided with the needles part of this appointment.  

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the particulars, but I believe that some form of exercise will be great for her health.”

She opened a sterile pack and fit the needle to the syringe. She then flooded it with the first vaccine’s fluid.

The brunette was still shaking her head, arms crossed. “I think I’ve even seen her trip going up stairs! I don’t know about running club.”

Diana held the syringe up against the light, giving it a small push to make sure the liquid was flowing.

Atsuko was watching apprehensively.

Diana flicked away any air bubbles and gave her patient a look. “I’m sure you can find a method to persuade her.”

--

“So what did you tell her?” Lotte peeked from behind another one of her literature tomes.

“Hell no!” Akko scoffed. “I’m sure Sucy and I have told you enough about Dr. Meri-death to know she’d never come near the running club, much less from my suggestion!”

The pair of them were sitting on a wooden park bench, shielded from the morning sun by a sprawling canopy of branches and leaves. They were facing the practice field where Amanda was wrapping up the Tuesday morning football club, to be followed by lunch which Lotte had volunteered to prepare.

Without Sucy’s help, she reassured.

They were having a small celebratory picnic today—Akko had finally landed herself a job! Finally!

“Looks like Amanda’s through,” Lotte squinted into the distance. “Let’s find a good table so it’ll be all set up when she joins us.”

The nearest picnic table was conveniently unoccupied, and Akko busied herself with the setting the tablecloth and cutlery upon Lotte’s insistence to ‘handle anything that could spill or break herself.’ They had sandwiches and a platter of roast beef (“Yay meat!”) with mashed potatoes on the side. A cold jug of orange juice had left a ring of dew on the table dressing almost immediately, and—what was taking Amanda so long? Akko was absolutely famished.

“Oh man, now that is a sight to behold right after training!” As if on cue, Amanda walked over, face still damp from freshening up with a towel draped around her shoulders. “Juice!”

“Leave some for us!” Lotte nagged, watching in horror as the other woman a downed a full glass in two seconds.

“So,” Amanda grinned, landing a heavy slap on Akko’s back while she wiped her mouth with the back of the her other hand. “You’re finally my colleague, Kagari! The lady subbing for music class all but knelt in gratitude when I gave her the news.”

“Makes me wonder what I’m getting into,” the brunette laughed to hide how painful that slap actually was.

Coaching aside, Amanda was a physical education instructor at the local Arcturus School. It was a relatively well-off institution, and unsurprisingly a subsidiary of LNU (who had some stake in its management). Akko being a student of the University made her a preferred candidate, and alongside Amanda’s recommendation getting the job felt like an easy win. Apparently, the former music instructor was swept off her feet in a whirlwind romance, dropping in snap to get married in Spain—or at least, faculty room rumors said so.

“So what’s your schedule?” Lotte inquired while she served them a hefty pile of potato.

“Thanks,” Akko smiled, “Mondays, right Amanda? And Fridays. Both morning classes.”

“You’ll still push through with running club?”

“Professor Ursula seems hella cool, so why not!”

Why the hell not indeed? Life finally felt like it was falling into place and Akko was determined to seize the day. Although school was beginning to become burdensome (the devil invented physics research papers), the recent acquisition of a job took away a big portion of Akko’s worries. The fact that it was something she genuinely enjoyed doing was a bonus that tasted as sweet as ‘dango.’

Damn, she grumbled to herself. Now she was craving for dango.

However—there was but one teeny-weeny furry problem left: Toby’s fate was still up in the air.

“I’m so bummed out that I can’t keep pets any place!” the brunette groaned.

“Even after everything he put your through last week?” Lotte asked, perplexed.

“To be fair,” Akko rubbed at the back of her neck, “he bit me cause I stepped on his tail by accident. But he’s usually really sweet!”

Lotte looked sympathetic. “He’s going to get picked up anyway once the authorities notice him loitering more often.”

She knew that, if she was being honest with herself; she only hoped it would be later than sooner. Akko thought the affection she developed for the cat would be a fleeting affair but oh did she completely fall for him the first time he rubbed against her legs and went ‘mew!’ So typical of her. Kami-sama.

“Might end up with someone within the neighborhood,” Amanda mumbled through a mouthful of beef. “And for the record,” she started laughing, “Constanze’s gun is a toy—Jas told me about last Friday. She’s really good at building replicas!”

Lotta was about complain when Amanda sat up in attention, her spoon pausing mid-air while she squinted towards something—or someone?—in the distance. “Is that Mr. Langdon? Is he actually going out for a jog?”

Akko craned hair neck. The name sounded familiar somehow, and soon she made eye-contact with a grumpy-looking man she remembered meeting at the pharmacy a few weeks ago. “Oh!” She beamed, giving him a lively wave a blinding smile. To everyone’s surprise, he actually smiled back.

That was when she noticed… it.

The smile fell from her face completely. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Lotte followed her line of sight. “I don’t see anything.”

Dread filled Akko’s stomach, which dropped like lead. An off-white van which resembled an ambulance cruised at a leisurely pace along the Central intersection. It was headed towards the old oak tree and it looked like a rescuer was keeping an eye out for strays.

‘Appleton County Animal Shelter’ was painted on its side, and before she knew it Akko had bolted up from her seat in the bench.

“Akko!” Lotte squealed.

“I’ll be back real quick!” Akko was already off to a soft jog, heading towards the edge of the park following the vehicle’s slow place into the main streets.

“Unbelievable,” Lotte blinked.

Amanda looked at the bespectacled woman, at Akko’s plate with interest, then back at her again.

“Think she’ll still eat that?”

--

“By the oak tree, yes.” Diana spoke into her phone in a clipped, professional voice. “I think I see you.”

As promised, Appleton County Animal Shelter’s van was coming into her street from the Central intersection. Despite how determined she was to have the shelter pick up the feline source of her headaches, she didn’t particularly enjoy having to send him away. But this was a must—a cat couldn’t be loitering outside the medical clinic.

“Well, off you go I suppose.”

The cat—oh, blast it, he’s going to leave anyway—Toby, so he was named, had followed her from the clinic to her apartment, where she was supposed to enjoy an extended lunch. She tried to shoo him away, going as far as talking to the little fellow (“Please stop following me. I have nothing to offer you.”).

He just looked so… polite.

But Toby stuck around regardless, and she figured now was as good a time as any to call the shelter. Still, there was some hesitation if she were to be honest, and she wasn’t sure why. When the van finally pulled over in front of her apartment, she wondered how that woman would take the turn of events.

“STOP!”

A shrill voice pierced through the rumble of the van’s engine, and in a sharp motion Diana turned towards its source.

Speak of the devil, she blinked. The rescuers likewise had to shake themselves from their stupor, surprised to see a small, brown-haired woman stomp towards them with murderous conviction.

And a pout.

Which, by all accounts, was rather disarming.

“Atsuko,” Diana greeted in a careful voice.

“How could you!” the brunette wailed. “It’s a good thing I saw the van from the park and followed it—no surprise to find it here!”

“From the park?” That was ridiculous! “You followed it?”

“Yes, and just in time.” Atsuko turned the ‘disarming’ pout towards the rescuers. “You’re not going to take him, are you?”

The men looked between Atsuko and herself, and Diana raised an eyebrow as if to assert authority.

“I’m sorry miss,” the man finally spoke, “but we can’t leave him in the street.”

“Can’t I keep him?” her lower lip was trembling now.

“Does your building have a permit for pets?”

Then Atsuko’s eyes began to glisten, and Diana already knew the answer because if the other woman did they wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.

“I’m really sorry,” to his credit, the rescuer looked sincere. “But we can take care of him better than if he stayed in the streets.”

Diana pensively watched the brunette’s shoulders droop. Atsuko blinked back tears, coming down to a squat and opening her hand towards Toby. She felt the need to call out and remind her to be careful, but then was surprised to see Toby nuzzle adoringly against her palm, looking content and wholly familiar.

“Heya, Toby.” Akko snuffled. “I got a job. I’ll work hard and find a better apartment.”

Toby purred.

“I promise to come get you.”

Diana would be lying if she said this didn’t pull a heartstring. Just one, and just a little bit.

“I forgive you for biting me!”

The blonde crossed her arms, determined to keep her composure. She didn’t understand why but she was beginning to feel like sending the animal rescuers away. They were so intrusive to Akko and Toby’s moment.

Huh. She blinked. Akko.

“Yes?” Akko turned towards her.

She said that out loud? Good grief. It was the first time she ever used that nickname since learning it. She was also not prepared to be on the receiving end of wide, watery, and vibrantly red eyes.

Puppy-dog eyes.

She looked between Akko, and then to Toby who was licking his paw and looking infuriatingly polite. Then finally she looked at the rescuers for some sort of support. They held up their hands and shrugged as if to say ‘we’re staying out of this for now!’

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she finally blurted out.

“Like w-what?”

Was it just her imagination or did Akko’s eyes grow even wider? Her lip was trembling again and for some reason the expression was making her feel helpless. In a rare stroke of impulse she blurted out: “My building has one.”

Akko could have cried. Diana decided she might need to phone a psychiatrist friend later.

“You’ll keep him?”

“Until you can you move somewhere else,” she replied as disinterestedly as she could. Was it the stress? What on earth was she doing?

“I don’t know what to say!” The brunette stood up to face her, taking both of Diana’s hands in a gesture of thanks, practically crying now.

She stepped backwards, warily looking up from their hands back to Akko’s face. “Space, please.”

Akko relented, scooping Toby up into her arms and up in the air. Even the rescuers looked pleased at how it all turned out. They gave her a thumbs up each.

Diana wanted to pinch herself. Or maybe slap herself. Was she seriously doing this?

“You have a home now!” Akko squealed.

Apparently, yes.

-

fin

-

A/: Holy guacamole am I excited to share this with you! It's been written and re-written three times over, but now I've finally found a version of it that fits the plot I've outlined for this fic! I'm sorry it took so long - life has changed for me drastically since the last update. And honestly there's an overwhelming amount of self-doubt cause I really wasn't sure if I still had it in me to write at the same level of quality I used to - but ya know what, heck it, I freakin' love Diakko and I've grown to love this town and world I've written here.

A bit of a sidenote but I've been reading solid fics (looking at you @theamberissubtle) and kind of just gushing and screaming "LORD HELP ME" in giddiness every few lines and admittedly I haven't felt this invested in a while, so I'm just glad to be here again, fan girling over panicked gays that I love so, so much.

As I've mentioned in previous notes, I've started graduate school how the central them of 'learning' and the 'academe' is probably so prevalent in this fic and that's probably why. I'm dying of papers and research, but work is suspended in the meantime, so while that sucks, I at least have time! Man I really missed writing like this.

ALSO PLEASE ONCE AGAIN I'm not a doctor (but funfact my mom is and she also has an animal bite center, lol) so please don't treat animal bites according to this fic. I DID try to be as accurate as possible but CALL A REAL DOCTOR. Wow this is a really long notes section I'M SORRY and FOR THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS I WILL BE SERVING, UH... *reads from my hand* BUCKETS OF PINING

LAST - Is anyone else here a member of that ridiculous ant colony group? It has been giving me so much damn emotional support. L I F T

I luvyu!

[svnthxsense]

Genre/Rating: Fluff/smut ; M

Warnings: Fem reader, cursing, light choking, slight corruption (?), slight praise, oral, tiny bit of slow burn

Word Count: 9.8k i’m sorry

Author’s Note: I got very carried away... Anyways, Happy Mark Day! This oneshot is a standalone in my Neo Tech High School series and is loosely based off of the first verse & chorus of Shot Clock by Ella Mai. Please send in any feedback! Also, my apologies if the Keep Reading function doesn’t work on mobile but I can’t do much about it T-T

It was mid-March when news broke in your school that a tier-1 athlete had transferred in. Everyone was swarming with curiosity all for a certain Mark Lee. Most of the gossip came from the guys, who bantered about his stats as a starting point-guard and argued about whether or not he’d make a good addition to the school’s beloved team. The girls, of course, were looking forward to a fresh face on campus. You couldn’t help but be curious, too.

After a week of anticipation, people were stunned to see the actual image of the mysterious basketball player. He was attractive at the absolute least. Then there was something that neither you nor your peers expected: he was the shyest, most awkward boy you had met in a while. How was it that the star basketball player who was always in the spotlight happened to be socially awkward?

You were surprised to discover that you two had a lot of classes together, and you’d be lying if you said you never stared. It didn’t help that he always came into math class with basketball shorts and a tank top on, his skin lightly glistening with sweat even after his brief post-gym shower. His hair was tousled, yet he managed to make it work like no other. It was a sight that made your mouth water and your mind fill with less-than decent thoughts.

It was only halfway through his first week of school when Mark had gotten called into the principal's office in the middle of third period. And then you were called in- not even five minutes after.

“Good morning, Principal Yoon,” You greeted her politely, taking the only other seat left in the room right next to Mark. You felt his eyes on you but decided against looking back at the nerve-wracked boy. Every time you saw him, you seemed to have a new fantasy about things you’d love to do to him. Was it wrong to fantasize about what his hands could do other than dribble a basketball?

“Good morning, Y/N.” She sat down in her leather office chair, scooting along until she found a comfortable position. Her tone was firm yet extremely polite. Most principals were intimidating and loathed by students, while Principal Yoon was approachable and kind. The students of Neo Tech adored her and her methods of running the school.

“Good morning, Mark. I’m sure you’re both wondering why I called you in, and I can assure you that it’s nothing of concern.” She held a manila colored folder in one hand before opening it and examining the paper in front of her. The both of you sat a bit uneasily, wondering what could’ve possibly landed you in this predicament. 

“Mr. Lee, your basketball skills are outstanding.” Immediately, Mark began rambling about his appreciation for her comment until her voice interrupted him. “Yes, well, the reason I called you both in has to do with that actually… You see, Mark, your last school was a bit behind in comparison to our curriculum here, and without the proper grades you won’t be able to be an active team member.”

Mark could’ve sworn he heard his heart drop. The whole reason he transferred to your school was that his tier-1 team was becoming mediocre at best. In order to stay on track with his plan of obtaining an athletic scholarship, he needed to choose the best of the best. And that’s what led him to your school, which currently holds the number one spot in the nation amongst all the tier-1 teams.

“That’s why I’ve brought Y/N in as well. It was brought to my attention that you two share more than half your classes together, and I’m well aware of how advanced she is in all subjects. So, to put it frankly, I’m going to suggest that you two become acquaintances. Of course, the final decision would be up to Y/N, but I’m hoping that both of you might benefit from this opportunity.”

Mark couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about how Principal Yoon pressed the issue. It was bad enough that his old school had a less advanced curriculum; and to make matters worse, his tutor just had to be the prettiest girl he’s seen. The way you dressed, especially, drove him crazy. Your sheer black tights underneath your plaid skirt, with your skin-tight, off-the-shoulder top that exposed your collarbones. He gulped at the very thought of what was underneath those clothes. How was he supposed to focus when he wanted to study his tutor more than the material?

“I would be happy to help,” You answered, mindlessly sneaking a glance at the boy next to you. His gaze seemed to be set on the ground, looking at anything but you. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to add ‘tutor’ to my resume.”

Principal Yoon smiled in response, setting the folder down on her desk before gently lifting her glasses off her face. She was pretty young to be a principal, couldn’t be a day over thirty. It was one of the things that made her so approachable, she seemed to sympathize with the lives of students because she was in their place not too long ago.

“Well, then it’s settled.”

You strained yourself trying to hide the smirk forming on your face, finally allowing yourself to steal a look at the golden boy once again. He seemed flustered, as per usual, and still didn’t dare to look you in the eye. He seemed so innocent, yet so ready to be corrupted. The excitement bubbled deep within your stomach at the thought of how much time you’d really need to spend with him in order to get him caught up. And boy did you hope you had extra time for other activities.

Without a word, you rose from your seat to offer a ‘goodbye’ to your principal and sauntered out of her office. Mark fumbled to get up, hurriedly saying goodbye to Principal Yoon before he rushed after you. At the sound of his footsteps, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. This will be fun.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You hummed in response, then turned on your heel to face him. He was breathing a little raggedly, but you knew it was from nerves because there was no way someone as athletic as him would be out-of-breath from a short jog. 

“I- I was wondering when you’d be available…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, trying his hardest to sound anything but stupid. You waited for him to go on as he stared back at you but quickly caught himself. “Y’know, for the tutoring.”

Your smile almost made his breath hitch but he ignored the pounding on his chest and found the courage to keep eye contact with you. He regretted it as soon as it happened because he damn-near whimpered at the beauty in front of him. Your lips, a faint rose color, were glossy and plump. He imagined how they’d feel pressed against his, and against other body parts alike.

“How about we do an evaluation of sorts at the library this afternoon? This way I can see how behind you are and how much time I’d need to get you in shape. I wouldn’t want you missing the opening game.” You winked, and Mark found himself gulping down nothing in another attempt to calm himself.

“Y-Yeah, that sounds good,” He replied and waited for you two walk away first because he couldn’t quite will his feet to move.

The end of the day seemed to have come much too quickly for Mark’s liking. Of course, he was itching at the chance to get to know you, but even he knew his nervous habits. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in the midst of his first impression.

Mark made his way to the library like you had told him to, and he easily found you at one of the tables towards the back of the room. You had books laid out in front of you, with worksheets accompanying them.

“Hey, so I was thinking we could start by evaluating your trig skills and then get into some science. Does that sound good?” It felt like an eternity before you finally looked up to find him sitting directly across from you at the table. He nodded softly as you pushed over the first worksheet. While he diligently started scribbling across the paper, you had nothing to do other than watch him. You picked up on a few things in a short amount of time: math seemed to frustrate him. When faced with a particularly difficult problem, he would huff in annoyance. Nonetheless, he would complete it before moving onto the next one with a scrunched-up nose. It was incredibly cute and you couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your lips.

“Okay, I think I’m done.” He pushed the paper back to you before bringing his hands down into his lap, nervously toying with his fingers. He then brought his bottom lip in between his teeth, chewing delicately. You tried not to react, instead turning your attention to analyze his answers. Did he know what he was doing to you? After looking through all the questions, you tsked.

“Your trig teacher must’ve sucked.” You adjusted your sitting position so that the paper would be visible to the both of you. “For number four, you need to use the quadratic formula- which is X equals negative B plus or minus the square root of B squared minus 4 times A times C. Then you divide the whole thing by 2 times A.”

Mark tried to keep up with you as you explained, but his mind was way too focused on how good you looked while concentrating. On top of that, math was never his strong suit. He had always struggled since the moment variables were introduced into his lessons. Memorizing the quadratic formula was all too difficult when the explanation was coming from that pretty mouth of yours, he thought.

“B…? Wait where is the X comin-”

“Mark.” You interrupted, trying to the best of your ability to keep the smile creeping up on you at bay. The way his name rolled off your tongue so naturally enticed him. “I can already tell that you’re about two months behind with the trig curriculum. That alone will take me at least two weeks to catch you up on, and that’s if we meet practically every day.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Mark answers weakly, his eyes retreating down to the desk below him. Immediately, your demeanor softens at his vulnerability. “I know this probably isn’t how you’d like to spend your free time. I’ll find another way to catch up, I’m sure-”

“Hey. I said it would be a lot of work, I didn’t say I don’t want to tutor you. Luckily for you, I’m pretty much free this semester anyway. Now, the issue is if you are willing to put in the work.”

Oh, was he willing.

[two days later]

“So, after school at the cafe?” You ask, grabbing your books from your locker and securing them in one arm. The tutoring sessions would have to be extremely consistent to make any noticeable progress before the school’s opening games. They were a big deal within Neo Tech’s school community, and the pressure was on to see how the new point guard would compare to all the hype.

“Yeah, if that’s fine with you,” He murmurs before eyeing the small stack of books and papers cradled in your arm. Naturally, he feels the need to take that burden off your hands. After all, you would be the reason he even gets to play this season. Without you, it’s unlikely he would’ve caught up in time to make a good impression on Neo Tech and other schools alike. “Let me carry your books for you.”

“You don’t have to,” You insist, moving slightly so the books are a bit more out of reach. Mark pouts in response, leaning forward again in another attempt to grab the materials. He succeeds this time, his hand slipping around the stack and drawing them away from you. “Persistent, huh?”

“Guess you could say that.” He chuckles, wrapping the books in his arm just as you had done. This is the only plan he thought of to spend time with you outside of a studying environment, but he hopes you don’t notice these intentions. “We have class together anyway.”

“And where are your books?” You raise on eyebrow questioningly, beginning to walk with him beside you. History was never your favorite class, but you stayed on top of the work anyway. It was easier, you realized very early on, to get the work out of the way so you’d have more time for studying and other extracurricular activities.

“I leave them in my desk.” He shrugs, looking over to see you smiling widely. The baby pink color that takes over the apples of his cheeks is extremely obvious, but you don’t comment on it. Seeing Mark flustered is cute, you determined as soon as you had met him.

As the two of you walk through the large doorway of your history classroom, bubbly conversation fills the air. Your teacher, Miss Han, sits perched on her desk patiently. She was a nice lady, but it didn’t change the universal distaste for history among your class.

“Well, uh- I guess I’ll see you at the cafe.” Mark sets your books down on your usual desk quickly, scurrying to find his seat among some of the other basketball players that had this period with him. You recognize one of them as Hendery, a friendly acquaintance due to all the classes you two shared last year.

“I see you, Mark.” Hendery’s eyebrows raise in a teasing matter, shoulder bumping the boy next to him. Mark stares back at him, confused as to what he meant. “You carrying Y/N’s books.”

The explanation causes Mark’s blush to reappear, the heat becoming warmer and warmer upon his flesh. Hendery is one of the only guys on the team that he’s fairly close with, yet he still didn’t feel ready to tell him about his little crush.

“It was nothing, really. She’s tutoring me and I thought- why not?” He tries desperately to make his response seem nonchalant, but the act he puts on is no match for his flushed cheeks. Hendery, with one brow raised, eyes Mark’s cheeks. “Okay, maybe I think she’s kinda cute.”

“Bullshit! You like her!” He accuses in a whisper-shout type of voice. Mark groans in response, softly hitting his shoulder with a closed fist. A cackle leaves Hendery’s lips, his hand coming up to muffle the sound. “Dude, just ask her out! You’d be a very lucky guy.”

“I can’t just ask her out!” It comes out as a high-pitched shriek. “It’s not that simple. I mean, it is that simple. But what if she says no? Then I’ll have to deal with rejection and seeing her every day for our study sessions and-”

“Mark, you’re way too worried. Do you want me to talk to her? Find out some dirt? We had a few classes together last year-”

“N-No! That’s too obvious!” His voice sounds so exasperated by now, Hendery is afraid he’ll pass out. Talking with his hands is a nervous habit that happens when he’s rambling, and right now is no exception. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, dude.”

“Better hurry before someone else beats you to it.” At this, Mark’s head snaps in Hendery’s direction. Before he can even formulate a proper response, Miss Han clears her throat and silence falls upon the whole classroom. Throughout the lesson, though, Hendery’s words echo in Mark’s head. What did he mean by that?

“One iced americano and one green tea please.” Mark pulls out his wallet before you have time to protest, and by the time your mouth opens to say something, his receipt is already printed. You didn’t expect him to order for you when he asked what you liked from this shop. Oblivious, he turns to you and stops in his tracks when he sees your surprised expression. “Huh?”

“You didn’t have to pay for me.” Your voice is firm but you’re grinning over at him, ignoring the way your whole body feels warm because of his display of generosity. Buying drinks shouldn’t be such a big deal, you remind yourself. “I owe you a lot now- carrying my books and now coffee.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs, before examining the shop to find the best seats. He decides on the small table in the corner, shuffling towards the spot silently. Your brows furrow at his response, hoping for something a bit more engaging in terms of conversation but realizing that Mark wasn’t quite good at conversing in general. At least, around you, he didn’t seem to be.

The cafe became a regular stop before your tutoring sessions, the two of you eventually decide that the library was a better spot for studying. So, almost every day after school, you two would rush over there to pick up your usual orders before racing back to the library. Most of the private rooms filled up after dismissal, so you two always made it a point to manage your time efficiently. Coffee runs and then studying- that was your routine.

You had hoped to test the waters with some flirting, but your efforts seemed to go unnoticed. And when they didn’t, Mark would be a nervous wreck in response. You wondered if you should try your luck outside of your study sessions, but you didn’t have many opportunities since he sat nowhere near you during your shared classes. Study sessions and coffee runs seemed to be your only options.

On numerous occasion, Mark would slip his wallet out and pay for your coffee without a second thought. These events would result in a whole lot of whining on your part, always arguing that you should treat him once in a while too. He liked the idea of spoiling you, he wanted to say, though the invisible filter that was stuck in his throat never allowed him such a luxury.

Plus, the look on your face was equally as cute as your whines. Although you tried to be angry, the lopsided grin that always appeared made Mark’s stomach do flips. How was it possible to be that effortlessly pretty? It would take the nation’s top philosopher, Mark thought, to figure that one out.

“Mark!” You call, jogging over to his locker where he stands, putting his books away. He focuses on not being a clumsy mess then looks over at you, spending extra time admiring your all-black outfit: leggings and a v-neck. He forces his eyes not to travel south of your face, instead putting on a small smile. “I was wondering where you think we should study? The library is gonna be closed for a staff meeting today.”

Without thinking anything through, Mark immediately answers with, “Actually, my parents are out of town this week. We can study at mine if you want.”

Fuck. His eyes widen at his own words as soon as they come out. You can’t help but be surprised too, but your shock quickly turns into something much less decent. At this point, you’re dying to get your hands on him. You know that if you two have your study-session today, you’ll jump his bones the minute his hand so much as grazes yours.

“Oh, okay. Cool. So I’ll meet you after 8th,” You conclude with your voice sounding like pure honey to Mark. As you turn and walk away, Mark is unsurprisingly staring at your figure in those damn leggings. He wonders how much thought you put into your outfit, if you’re wearing it on purpose to torture him. He shakes the thoughts out of his head when he feels excitement course through his veins and towards the southern region of his body. No way is he going to get a boner now. Demanding his attention elsewhere, he rips his eyes away from you and tries to think of anything but how good your ass looks.

P.E. was always Mark’s favorite class. For most of his life, his Phys. Ed teachers had consistently been carefree and maybe a bit lazy. Their go-to lesson plan comprised of a few laps around the gym and then free-choice sports. Most of the girls opted for volleyball and badminton while almost every single boy could be found on the basketball court in the midst of a friendly scrimmage. Today is no different from the rest of those times.

Mark enjoys the friendly competition but easily leads his team to a win. He has gym with some of the other guys on Neo Tech’s basketball team, and it was easy to see how well he’d fit in with the pace of the other guys. At his old school, it always felt like he was being held back. He had to slow down his plays and examine the court thoroughly before he was able to make a proper judgment of his next move. With the Neo boys, everything seemed to come naturally.

He was able to gauge each player’s strengths and weaknesses fairly quickly too. For example, Hendery was a great shooter under pressure. When he gets boxed in by other defenders, that’s when his shooting is the most precise. So with that in mind, Mark always looks for Hendery when he notices that the opposing team’s defense is particularly aggressive that day. His judgments haven’t failed him thus far, with today’s scrimmage resulting in another win that should go down in the books.

Basketball was something that came easily to Mark his whole life. Talking to girls though? Not as much. He excelled on the court, took the lead and kept a risky attitude with unexpected plays and passes. He fits in well with Neo Tech’s strategy and game style. Plus, the guys on the Neo Tech basketball team were quick to befriend him and make him feel right at home. That is, of course, until he overhears one of his teammates, Lucas, talking to another teammate in the locker room as he begins to pack up his stuff after their particularly long scrimmage.

“Bro, are you really gonna shoot your shot with Y/N?” The other one- Xiaojun, he thinks- asks the taller boy. Lucas shrugs a little, folding his gym clothes neatly before placing the pile back in his locker. He’s not wearing a shirt, and Mark can’t hide the feeling of insecurity that seeps into his veins. Mark’s never been as built as that, but he never thought much of it until now.

“I mean, probably. She usually comes to our games, right?” He looks back at Xiaojun, eyebrows raised. The boy nods back slowly, a look of uncertainty on his face. “She’s so hot, especially in that one skirt she always wears.”

Mark’s jaw tenses and his whole body becomes rigid before he can calm himself down. He knows, in his mind, that he doesn’t technically have a right to feel possessive. He hasn’t made a move, so who was he to stop Lucas’s plans? This thought doesn’t stop him, however, from feeling the sudden urge to punch Lucas in his pretty face. It annoys him that all Lucas has to say about you is ‘She’s hot.’ To Mark, you were so much more. 

He loves the way you insist on helping him and accept nothing less than 100% effort on work. He loves how you smile proudly at him when he finishes his worksheets with no errors, how you blush every time he pays for your coffee before a study session, how you always find a way to get something done if you commit to it, how you genuinely care about how his day went when no one else seems to ask. You’re more to him than a nice body in a short skirt. Much, much more.

Hendery notices his tense shoulders and pensive facial expression, quickly grabbing the shirt that was draped over his shoulder and sending a soft wack to Mark’s back. This seems to do the trick, his face softening when he realizes it was Hendery who hit him.

“Ignore them,” Hendery orders, folding the shirt in his hands and placing it back in his locker. He’s friends with both Lucas and Mark, but he can tell how much Mark likes you. Lucas’s crush would pass with time, it was a never-ending cycle with that one. “Lucas isn’t her type, trust me. And if you’re so worried, make your move.”

This time, Mark realizes that Hendery is all too right. He needs to do something-anything, before it’s too late.

Yet again, the end of the day comes too quickly for Mark to process. He blankly shuffles out of the lab room and is taken by surprise when he sees you leaning against the wall opposite the doorway. You push yourself off the wall when you spot him, and take into account how good he looks when he’s out of it. It makes you wonder how he’ll look when he’s all fucked out and-

“Ready?” Mark interrupts your thoughts. Instead of saying anything, because you don’t trust your voice at this point, you simply nod and begin pacing your walk so you’ll be shoulder-to-shoulder. Your shoulder brushes against his occasionally, but neither of you shows any sign of being bothered by it.

The car ride is full of thick tension and utter silence aside from the soft hum of the radio. Mark’s grip on the wheel is tighter than he’s used to but he can’t help it. He can feel your eyes on him, his skin beginning to warm underneath his usual basketball shorts and a loose tee. You study him shamelessly: the veins of his arms that bulge occasionally when he shifts the wheel one way and the other, his habit of biting his lower lip when the car in front of him drives too slow, and the simple things like the contour of his jawline.

He pulls into a driveway and you aren’t surprised by how lavish his house is. His mother and father are both high-ups in some big company, as Mark had put it. They take business trips often but still find time for their beloved son, while his older brother is away at the number one university in the country. One might ask why Mark needs an athletic scholarship if his parents have so much money. He thinks of it more as a pride thing. His father, before becoming a businessman, was also on an athletic scholarship for soccer. His older brother has one for baseball while he studies Marketing and International Finance. Sports scholarships were almost like a family heirloom for the Lee’s, along with a business degree.

He jumps out of his seat, closing the door behind him before rushing to the passenger side to open the door for you. Under normal circumstances, you might’ve blushed. But with Mark, you know you have to be the confident one between the both of you. No matter how flustered his smiles make you and how weak in the knees his deep voice makes you, you force yourself to put on a bold front.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Mark snorts as he leads you through the foyer to the carpet-clad staircase. Humble was one way to put it. The whole interior has a simple, all-white color scheme. Upholstered leather loveseats were positioned neatly down the halls, with minimalistic tables to match. You let yourself take in your surroundings as both of you walk through the maze of his house towards what you presume will be his bedroom. Your guess is right; he stops in front of a white-painted wooden door and opens it just a bit to peek inside and make sure nothing was out of place. He breathes a sigh of relief that he decided to move anything remotely embarrassing to his walk-in closet as soon as he started his new school. Opening the door wider so that you could enter, you step in hesitantly and watch a little too intently at Mark closing the door firmly behind him.

His room is somehow exactly how you pictured it; a light blue color paints the walls. His full-sized bed leans against one wall, with posters of his favorite movies hovering above the headboard.

“Shit, I just realized that my desk-” You glance behind you, seeing his computer which took up most of the space that the desk had to offer and the somewhat large gaming chair that was tucked comfortably underneath said desk. Almost thanking fate for throwing this curveball in your favor, you just smile reassuringly at him.

“It’s fine, Mark. We can study on your bed.” Mark’s eyes widen suddenly and you realize that you probably gave him too much to process at once. “Or the floor, that’s fine too.”

“N-No! I mean- whatever’s more comfortable,” He manages to stutter out. Mentally, Mark would have said something spicy just to see you blush. However, in reality, Mark just couldn’t muster up the courage to openly flirt like that. His lack of confidence had posed many obstacles for him over the years. It seemed the one place he was truly confident was on the court.

“Well, it’s your room so I’ll sit wherever you sit.”

He nods once before setting his backpack at the foot of the bed and jumping back onto the soft mattress. Scooting up towards the headboard, he waits for you to do the same. You ignore the excitement that bubbles knowing his eyes are on you, and take a seat next to him with your bag still in hand.

“So uh- what are we gonna start with today?” Mark tries so hard not to seem phased by having a girl like you in his bed, but his patience is wearing thin and he can only blame himself. Maybe if he just made a move…

“We always start with trig.” You furrow your brows in confusion because it’s become a set routine already. Trig was always first because that was the subject he was most behind in. English was obviously not a problem for him and in terms of science, he was just behind with lab work that he could complete in school. “Then, we brush up on some science. I don’t really think you need it, though. You’re almost caught up with your lab work.”

“Oh, yeah. Right, of course.” He has to physically focus on not rambling or he’d be a mess all over. Of course, you know this by now. And while his shy and awkward demeanor is definitely adorable, it also makes you hesitate to try anything with him. After all, what are the chances of the shy boy in front of you gripping you up only to have his way with you?

Mark begins working on the sheets you give him almost as soon as you hand them over, eager to complete the work and somehow finesse his way into spending more time with you. He was being dumb, Hendery would continuously tell him. He should just go for it, because with a tutor ‘as hot as Y/N,’ why wouldn’t he? His lack of confidence makes him want to pull his hair from the roots, but he resists the urge and silently completes the worksheets. He double-checks all of his work carefully so that no time will be wasted in going over stupid mistakes. With a sigh of relief, Mark hands the papers over to you and looks up at you nervously. You always look so stoic when analyzing his answers, it intimidates him yet also lights a spark of excitement at the same time.

“Well done. There were no errors, just make sure you remember to show your work because the question requires-”

“Y/N?” Your name slips out of his mouth before he realizes it. You fall silent, eyes lifting to meet his dark brown ones. “Um… Can we maybe t-take the day off? I think I’d rather be doing almost anything other than trig right now.”

You don’t expect this question, because he’s never asked for a break. It was always about him being up to date with the curriculum so he’d be able to be part of the starting five. What you also don’t expect is for his eyes to flicker, very briefly, to the exposed skin of your upper body. There’s only a bit of cleavage showing, and a peek of your collarbones visible from certain angles. Suddenly, you realize that the time for making a move is now. And you can’t pass up the opportunity.

“What did you have in mind?” Your voice dripping like honey in the air. Slowly, you push the papers and books away from you and they hit the carpeted floor with a light thud. Mark gulps, finding his mouth dry when his mind goes blank with what to say next. Come on, Mark. Keep it together.

Instead of saying anything that might ruin the moment, he simply mimics you and pushes the books off his lap and onto the floor. When he turns back to face you, he’s met with your challenging gaze and he can’t help himself as he leans towards you without any doubt in his mind.

Your noses brush against each other, his face so close that you could feel every minty breath he lets out. You know what’s about to happen, and you no longer have the patience to delay it any further. Mark’s hesitant ways, while sweet and gentlemanly, drive you to the brink of insanity. And so, with a deep breath, your hand lifts to pull his face to yours. Your lips softly press to his, letting him process the fact that you’re actually kissing him before you grow impatient. Feverishly, you move your mouth against his. Mark swears he’s in heaven when he slowly opens his mouth a bit wider and your tongue automatically swipes against his. He’s been waiting for this moment- to feel your lips against his, to taste you in more ways than one. He needs it all, right now.

“Y/N,” He separates from you to breathe out your name. You practically bite back a moan, humming in response while his hands grab your waist. You expect him to say something, but he just kisses you again with more confidence than before. As he slowly leans back against the headboard, you follow him absentmindedly, simply chasing the heat of his lips against yours. You’re straddling him now, his hands moving to grip your ass cheeks with greed. The force makes you roll your hips in response, grinding down onto him unintentionally which makes Mark’s breath hitch.

You experiment, repeating the movement and pulling away from him only to see his reaction. His eyes are focused on the movements of your hips above his, concentration straining his face. After flipping your hair to one side, you continue your slow torture and lean down to kiss the spot below his ear. With his hands firmly clasping around your hips, you suck at his supple skin and lick over the spot when you’re done. By now, his breathing is a little heavy and uneven as his erection pressed against your clothed core. You feel him against you, his basketball shorts doing little to conceal his excitement.

“You’re driving me crazy,” He whispers as he drops his head to the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you slightly. You relish in knowing that the feeling is mutual. With every huffed-out breath, every soft kiss on your skin, you only become more reassured that you want this- and it makes it all the more worth it knowing that he wants this too.

You break the kiss to rid yourself of your t-shirt, the material on your warm body frustrating you a bit more than you’d like to admit. As you meet his eyes again- they’re filled with a hunger that causes your stomach to clench and arousal to pool within the confines of your panties- you can’t help the absolute urgency you feel to make him putty in your hands. So instead of kissing him again, you play with the hem of his loose tee, letting your hands graze over the skin of his abdomen. He hesitates, remembering the locker room fiasco with Lucas and suddenly he feels that insecurity itching at his skin again. He isn’t extremely built, his athletic body on the more slender side, but you don’t mind at all. 

From his demeanor, you can already deduce what’s bothering him. You press a sweet kiss to his lips, almost silently telling him that you liked him just as he is. A kilowatt smile lights up his face, and your cool hands against his heated skin make him grab at the material to discard it himself. He stares up at you, waiting for your next move because quite frankly, he likes you in control.

“These too,” You order, pointing at his basketball shorts. Mark is quick to shimmy them off of his body, leaving only his boxers to conceal the length of his cock from your eyesight, though the bulge is very much prominent. You debate whether or not to fuck him then and there, but decide that having him writhing from your mouth alone would satisfy you more.

With a quick motion, you bring your lips down to the skin above the waistband of his boxers. He twitches slightly at the contact, and then feels your nails gently rake against his sides. He’s much too sensitive to your touch, and it almost scares him. How could you have so much power over him? Maybe it’s the way your plump lips push against his skin so confidently, how your eyes find his without a second thought. He envies your confidence, but he also finds it unbelievably addicting to have such control taken away from him.

Mark isn’t a virgin. But he also isn’t very experienced. His past sexual encounters were vanilla, with him hesitantly taking control because his girlfriends always expected such. His first time was awkward at best, his hips didn’t quite know how to fluidly move nor did his tongue know how to expertly flick against hers. He did get a bit better as time went on, or so he likes to think. But he feels so foreign to sex with you.

It might be because you seem so opposite of him- in terms of how easily everything comes to you. However, he doesn’t find it in him to assume anything about your sex life, because he doesn’t particularly care. He ignores any thoughts of how many guys you’ve been with or if they’d be better than him, because as your hands slowly pull his boxers down, he’s content with knowing all you’re thinking about is him, at this moment.

You hum pleasantly at the sight of his length free from its confines, a small bead of precum ready to drip from the head. Much to your surprise, your mouth salivates on its own at the sight. You stroke him twice in your small hand, before your spit comes down on the side of his dick. He watches you in awe as you slide him into your mouth without hesitation, your tongue running along the underside of his length. A guttural groan emits from the awestruck boy before he can stop himself, much to his dismay. It would make you grin if your mouth wasn’t preoccupied.

You begin to slowly, tentatively bob your head up and down on him as your hand twists up to meet your mouth. You look at him expectantly for his response, and it doesn’t disappoint. His hands fly to your head, fingertips smoothing over your scalp while he sucks in a harsh breath. His mouth drops open soon after, the warm and slick tunnel of your mouth proving to be quite the pleaser. 

He feels nervous under your stare once again, but he certainly can’t look away from the sight before him. With your plump, infamously glossy lips wrapped around the tip of his dick and your tongue sliding obscenely over the slit. He wants to memorize every detail of the picture painted for him, so he stares at you and forces himself not to look away. He sees everything: the way you blink slowly as you take him further into your mouth, the way you search his face for reassurance that you’re making him feel good, the way you twist your wrist in an almost tortuous way that feels so, so good.

“Fuck, I need to feel you.” He gently, regretfully pulls your head away from his crotch. Your mouth detaches from his cock with a quiet popping sound, a string of spit connecting his dick to your bottom lip. Your mouth is tinted red and a little swollen, a bit of spit still left on the side of your mouth. Even so, Mark still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. 

He decides that, eventually, he’ll ask you out. The turn of events today is unexpected and definitely not what he had in mind, but he’s in too deep to put a stop to it now. He wonders if he fucked up his chances by going along with this, if you’d reject him because of the irony of him asking you out after he’s had his way with you. He swallows the nervous feeling that is rooted deep in his chest and stems out to the entirety of his body, pushes it aside to deal with later.

You undress quicker than Mark can process his thoughts, and for the first time since you’ve met him, your confidence wavers. Confidence was always something that came and went for you- the brave front you had put on didn’t quite prepare you for feeling Mark’s hungry eyes all over every inch of your body.

“Y/N- you’re so beautiful.” He motions you to get on top of him again, and you comply shyly. He kisses your lips once, then your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder. All until you’re smiling so wide that you feel a pinch of pain in your cheeks. Mark Lee definitely owns your heart, no point in denial any more.

“W-Would you want to uh- ride me?” He stutters out clumsily, his hands finding purchase at his sides. This is why he likes that you take control. For one, it’s sexy as hell. For another, it gives him less room to be the nervous mess that he usually is. 

At his question, your demeanor changes from a slightly nervous girl feeling so bare underneath his gaze to something even you didn’t know you had in you. You can feel your arousal as you slowly move closer to him, your thighs on either side of his. His boxers are still hanging just below his knees and he hurriedly kicks them off all the way.

“Condom?” You ask, eyes searching around his bedside but to no avail. Mark fumbles a bit, keeping one hand around your waist securely while the other rummages through the bottom drawer of his nightstand. After finally locating the box of condoms his mom insisted on giving him during freshman year, he pulls the foil packaging into sight. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly his hands make work to slide it securely over his length, but his desire is clouding his judgment more than he expected.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” His voice is a bit breathless as he carefully tucks some of your hair behind your ear. The action makes your face warm and quite possibly your heart. But you don’t admit that. Instead, you nod curtly before pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. Without skipping a beat, you take hold of his cock and align it at your entrance. You run the head back and forth between your folds, but realize you’re only putting yourself through further cruelty with every second that passes with no relief to the throbbing of your core.

So without warning, you sink down on him at a painfully slow pace. Your slick folds welcome the stretch of his girth, the very feeling of him making you shiver with sensitivity. Mark looks down to where his dick is being swallowed by your core, finding it harder and harder to hold on to his sanity as you sink further down on him. You let out a soft, delicate moan when you feel him fill you up completely, and Mark swears he could cum just from hearing those angelic sounds. He then decides, if you two do this again, he’ll fuck you into his mattress until you’re crumbling at the seams because of him.

“Shit,” He mutters under his breath when you start bouncing on top of him. The sound of skin slapping against skin proves to be quite the soundtrack as you desperately grip his shoulders. You bite your lip in an attempt to muffle the screams of pleasure just aching to come out. Your moans come out in whimpers when Mark uses his thumb to draw figure 8’s on your clit. He’s biting his bottom lip, his facial muscles strained between a fucked-out state and a concentrated one.

“Such a good boy,” You muse lightly without even thinking. Your voice mumbling such praise causes Mark to gulp, and he’s strangely even more turned on. Then again, you’d been awakening emotions and sensations that Mark hasn’t quite felt before, didn’t even know were possible. On your side, you’ve never tried much dirty talk during sex, but for Mark, you were willing to try. You can tell he likes it by the way his grip on your hips tightens and his breathing becomes heavier. And so, as he pants and groans softly next to your ear, your pace turns merciless. You bounce on him with an unrelenting pace and he knows you won’t stop until he cums, hard.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit.” Profanities spill from his mouth, his eyes screwing shut intently at how good the friction between your folds was. He forces himself to continue rubbing circles into your clit, albeit a bit sloppy, but circles nonetheless. You’re only more motivated by his lewd sounds, feeling your walls clench even tighter around his throbbing cock. The sensation causes an idea to form in your head, and you decide that his reaction will be the most satisfying part.

“Feels so good. Are you close?” Innocence laces your voice as you grab his hand and guide it to one of your breasts. Watching as he instinctively grabs it greedily in his palm, you notice how hot his fingers look wrapped around your flesh which only fuels your idea. Mark nods eagerly at your question, his breathy pants coming out shorter, more frequent, and sinful enough to make your head spin.

Abruptly, you begin rolling your hips against him rather than bouncing, causing him to look up at you. Then, you grab his hand again and bring it to your throat, making him wrap his fingers around the width of your neck slowly. Mark’s mouth drops open a second time this afternoon, feeling his hand tenderly squeeze around your neck. Your breathing becomes a bit restricted, but not enough to cause any discomfort. The force only makes your eyes roll back, while Mark turns to putty underneath you. After a few seconds, he releases his hold and brings his hand down to knead your ass, whispering something about how good you feel. Despite his seeming increase of confidence, all that Mark is thinking about is the power trip he got from choking you. Holy fuck, did that really happen?

“Gonna cum now, baby?” You force the question out when you feel him begin to pulse inside of you, leaning down to suck on the skin where his shoulder and neck meet and then licking your way up to just below his ear. Gently and carefully, you take his earlobe between your teeth and pull away slowly. Mark, by now, is a writhing mess underneath you. He can no longer contain his sounds nor his desperation to climax, bucking his hips up to meet yours. The combination of his thumb running over your clit repeatedly and his dick hitting just the right spot has a white-hot pleasure burning through your entire body. “Mmph- Mark!”

“Fuck! I’m g- gonna cum,” He yelps when he hears you moan his name, his thumb’s movement over your clit becoming rougher, sloppier by the second. He gives up on trying to thrust up into you, instead letting you ride him with an almost animalistic nature. His face scrunches up, a choked groan falling from his open mouth as he feels his climax course through his entire body. His seed fills up the condom, the sensation of release so utterly euphoric that Mark isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this good. Your pace on his dick slows before coming to a complete stop, breathing heavily and feeling so out of it even without an orgasm.

“Lay down, beautiful,” He rasps out, moving from his position and running his hand along your thigh delicately. His half-lidded eyes meet yours before you obey his command, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed with your head resting comfortably on one of the pillows. Mark hovers over you, pressing affectionate kisses all over your upper body before traveling lower. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Mark admits shyly, sucking on the skin of your inner thigh before repeating the action to the other one. As he licks a stripe up from your dripping core to your clit, you feel a shiver run all the way up your body. Noticing your reaction, he sucks your clit into his mouth and rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud. Your drawn out moan tells him he’s doing something right, so he continues to flick his tongue over the bundle of nerves while he looks up to see your face.

“Shit! More, p- please.” Your pleads leave his ears red and his mouth watering, his tongue moving to slide between your folds with a soft moan. The vibration combined with his tongue darting in and out of you languidly makes you see stars at this point. “Oh my god- are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

He chuckles lightly, seeing your brows furrow in concentration as he forces his tongue to fuck your core faster and faster. One of his hands comes down to rub over your clit, your juices creating a squelching noise every time his tongue moved inside of you. Mark swears he’s never felt more proud when your hand comes down to grip at his hair, pushing his face further into you just as your thighs clench around his head.

“You’re so wet,” Mark praises before going back to thrusting his tongue between your folds. The taste makes him hum, vibration spreading through your lower region and making you whimper in satisfaction. Mark’s a quick learner, you see, when he continues to hum and groan into your pussy as his finger circles your clit consistently. “Cum, baby.”

You give in to his command, letting yourself fall apart at the seams underneath his mouth. Your pussy throbs around his tongue as you ride out your orgasm, a moan caught in your throat as your mouth hangs open in an ‘O.’ Mark happily laps up your juices, diligently downing every last drop before collapsing on the mattress next to you.

“Wow,” He remarks in awe, peering at you through the corner of his eyes. You’re still trying to catch your breath, but you laugh lightheartedly anyway as you turn your body to face him. A few pieces of hair cling to your forehead, and he delicately pushes them away from your face before caressing the curve of your jaw.

“The game’s coming up,” You comment, your hand toying with the one that wasn’t touching your face. The game was so important to him, you couldn’t think of anything else you’d rather talk about in this moment. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Well, yeah of course. A little anxious, but I think that’s normal before a big game.” Basketball might be the one thing he could talk about without a nervous bone in his body. No stuttering, no confusion, just speaking his mind. “Do you like basketball?”

You nod in response, giggling at the face he makes that’s somewhere between surprised and overjoyed. Basketball was something you enjoyed watching and analyzing, especially since it was such a big thing for the students of Neo Tech. Most schools prided themselves on their football team, but not Neo. Basketball had always been like gold.

“What do you think of our starting five? Maybe you can tell me something I haven’t picked up on.”

“Hmm,” You start, fully prepared for the rant that’s about to happen. “Xiaojun is a pretty amazing shooting guard, he almost always knocks down shots whether he’s open or not. Ten can’t be matched when it comes to being a small forward. He’s quick as hell, and I see him use that to his advantage a lot when he’s trying to get open. Hendery- where do I even start? He’s so versatile when it comes to shooting, perimeter shots and jump shots- it doesn’t matter, he can make them all. And his defense skills are crazy, he’s fearless even up against bigger guys. I mean, I guess that’s normal among power forwards but-”

Mark zones out a bit as he prepares for you to talk about Lucas. What were you going to say? Would your eyes light up when talking about him? Would you gush about how good he was? He hopes not, especially not after what just happened.

“Lucas is a good choice for center. He’s tall, so it makes sense that he’s the best at rebounds. His shooting ability is fairly decent, but he needs work on his passing in my opinion.” He’s surprised to see that you keep your comments completely analytical, not even blinking an eye as you continue your commentary. If Mark liked you a lot before, hearing you talk about basketball has him on the verge of calling out for cupid.

“And you-” Mark’s ears twitch, his attention completely and utterly focused on you. Had you seen videos of him playing at his old school? He dreads the thought, knowing that he wasn’t playing to his full potential back then. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see this Friday.”

“Is it too early to say ‘marry me?’“ He jokes, and both of you laugh. Secretly, though, you wish he had been more direct from the beginning. Seeing him with his newfound confidence is even more attractive than seeing him flustered. You wonder what today will bring of your relationship, but decide to wait and bring it up after his big game. He needs a clear head, and so do you if you want to see him perform to the best of his abilities on game night.

[game night]

You aren’t disappointed in the least bit, savoring every minute of the game and concentrating on how good Mark is. His position was always point guard, and now you understand why. He has a certain talent, it’s not technical. Sure, he’s a great shooter and he’s ruthless with defense. But more importantly, he facilitates the team in a way that makes all of the players better. He plays using their strengths, knowing exactly who to look for in any given situation rather than making himself the star.

He leads the team flawlessly, and you’re sure everyone feels it too. The momentum the five boys build up in the first half is too strong for the other team to compete with. By the time half-time is up, it’s clear that Neo Tech will come out on top. There’s a certain feeling lingering in the air as the coach switches out Ten and Hendery for Yangyang and Jungwoo. No matter what the coach does, who switches out, the outcome is secured.

Despite how certain victory is, it doesn’t stop everyone holding their breath as the shot clock winds down to its final seconds and Mark steps back to launch the ball into the air. Everyone is still as the ball seems to move in slow motion, a loud swoosh sound echoing throughout the gym seconds before the final buzzer blares, indicating the end of the game. The crowd is immediately on their feet and cheering, high-fiving and fist-bumping all around.

You’re sitting in the first few rows, so it’s easy to run out onto the court. The school’s sports reporters, Chenle and Jisung, are already holding the microphone towards Mark to record a post-game interview for tomorrow’s newsreel. They only get to ask a few questions, though, before Mark’s eyes are on you.

A bright, proud smile graces your face and Mark is sure he wants to see that same smile every day of his life. You’re standing a few feet away, facing him and the rest of the boys on the team. This reminds him of Lucas’s conversation in the locker room, and he knows that now is no time to be shy.

So, he answers one final question before brushing off the two boys and turning towards you. His walk is confident now, as if he’s done this millions of times before. Now, he stands with you toe-to-toe and he lets his arms wrap around your waist slowly.

If it’s even humanly possible, you push your body closer to his and drape your forearm over his shoulder. His eyes stare directly into yours, the shy boy long gone and replaced with the same courageous Mark that was on the court tonight.

“How’d I do?” He whispers as he leans his forehead against yours, his breath tickling your nose. Everyone on the team is watching, but it doesn’t bother either of you. Instead of answering, you grasp his jaw and press your lips against his. It doesn’t take long for him to respond, his mouth moving against yours slowly and affectionately. You pull away after a few moments, still beaming up at him.

“I guess you finally got together, huh?” Hendery smirks from his spot on the bench beside the two of you, and Mark laughs quietly. Though, Hendery’s statement reminds him that he never did ask you out. His brow quirks upwards when he meets your eyes, the silent question spelled out right in front of you.

“Yeah, we did.” Your answer is what he’s been dying to hear since the moment you walked into Principal Yoon’s office, and it feels even better knowing that he isn’t daydreaming this time. This is real, you returning his feelings- it’s all real. And Mark couldn’t be happier.

“I told you she liked Mark!” Xiaojun throws a victorious, high pitched scream at Lucas as they walk towards the locker room.

[jiracheer]

[ MOONDUST ]

✨ a/n :: sorry for this self-indulgent piece!! tonight was kinda poopy and I needed a pick me up

✨ warnings :: angst with a happy ending tho

✨ word count :: 1k

The moon felt so far away. 

You brought your hand up to the sky in a pathetic attempt to try to grab it, you watched with teary eyes and trembling bottom lip as you tried to grasp onto its round glowing figure. A sob ripped through your throat with a disgusting roll of tears to tumble down your cheeks and hit your sock clad feet. Loneliness felt so bitter and it weighed heavily in your chest. You wanted nothing more than a moment, just a mere second, of some sort of break from the heaviness of life. 

Recently it seemed as if everything could go wrong with how life has been treating you. School felt so confusing with all the new material being thrown your way, and you were doing horribly on tests as you seemed to have your head in the clouds. Your friends weren’t really picking up on the signs either that you weren’t okay and they easily waved you off/ When you expressed your feelings to them it felt as if they didn’t hear a single word you uttered. Pure anguish consumed you and you felt another sob wrack your body, shaking you to the very core, and you simply wanted to be eaten up by the world. 

You felt as if there was no way things could get better. Arguments rose from you and your parents daily, you felt such conflict with your friends, and with yourself. It was almost as if you were stuck, trapped in whatever hell you had placed yourself in. 

Digging the heel of your palm into your eyes, you took in a deep breath to center yourself. There you go again, being overdramatic, but the thought of you even thinking you were being overdramatic sent you into another frenzy. You sat there in your room for what felt like forever before your phone began to ring. It was a dull noise, and you searched all over for the device which was neatly tucked into bed, seemingly ready to end the day so it could wake to a new one. 

Taking in another deep breath you flipped it over to see what it was and saw a phone call. Crap. You tried to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat to ease up your voice, to make it sound like you hadn’t been crying for the past few minutes, and when you felt like it was good enough… You answered.

“Uh, hey… Tsukki.” Your voice cracked a bit near the end and you closed your eyes, counting the seconds until he replied and you bit your lip. “What’s up?”

“Hey. I was calling to see if you did today's module for science, because I wanted to compare answers.” Tsukishima was, who you considered to be, a close friend of yours. It had taken time to really form a tight bond with him, and slowly, Tsukki had started to let down his walls a bit after much needed growth. They weren’t completely down, but they were down enough to where you could climb over them and join him on the other side.

And he liked to think the same. 

“O-Oh… Uhm. No. No I didn’t, uhm. I didn’t complete it, no, sorry.” You ran a hand through your hair, grabbing the roots. You felt bad. “I can get started on it though and-”

“You okay? You sound really weird. Are you sick or some shit?”

Oh God. The question alone made the lump return to its rightful place in your throat and your eyes began to water. Why was it that when that simple question was spoken, you always fell into some sort of spiral? Your bottom lip quivered and you took in a deep breath that was like a stream disturbed by its rocky bottom. All and all, you were back where you were that evening; a mess. 

A small noise left your throat and your hand went flying to your mouth, lips puckered and on fire from just how hard you had cried, and were, crying. The line went quiet and you felt so bad.

“I-I’m sorry, I gotta go-” You were close to hitting the red icon before you were stopped, Tsukki’s voice barely being picked up as he shouted for you to not hang up. You stood there in silence and you heard shuffling on the other side, and the phone came back to be pressed against your flush face. “T… Tsukki?” You gently croaked out, “I’m… I’m gonna hang up now.”

“No don’t, stay on the line with me.”

“W-Why?” “I’m walking to your house. So just, stay with me.”

His words made your chest tighten and a fresh set of tears form, and all you could muster with a pathetic noise and a simple nod of your head. 

“Can you wait for me in your yard?” His request was simple enough so you went through with it, silently slipping out of your house. Small talk was made between the two of you as you waited patiently for him and when he finally arrived, he was the first to hang up.

Tsukishima stood near your gate with his hands tucked into his hoodies pockets, glasses hanging on his nose before he’d adjust them. His hair looked silver under the moonlight, almost as if he was living up to his names meaning. He didn’t look real. He looked like some sort of spirit visiting you to offer you some guidance, but you knew he was real when he took in a deep breath and opened his arms for you. 

You dropped your phone onto the grassy ground below and let out a mix of what seemed to be a whimper and a cry. Running towards him at full speed you practically threw yourself onto the thin boy. Your face was pressed against his chest and the collision made you bite the inside of your cheek, but you didn’t care. 

Tsukishima engulfed you. His scent, his warmth, the sweet baritone of his voice, and so much more, had provided you such a large amount of comfort. It didn’t take much for him to simply sweep you off your feet. His long arms came around your torso and he moved to rest his chin on the top of your head, rubbing your back as you let it all out. He knew not to speak, and not to let you get too into it, as it would only cause more damage for you. 

The two of you stood there for what seemed to be a long moment, and finally, you came down from whatever sad high you were on. You pulled back to rub at your eyes and to wipe his hoodie free of your tears and snot, apologizing quietly, but he simply silenced you with another back rub. 

“... I don’t like seeing you cry, y/n.” The blond finally broke the silence. You two locked eyes and he felt his heart ache upon seeing your eyes so wide and full of tears. He brought a hand up to gently take your cheek, thumb brushing underneath your eye to wipe away a tear. “It sucks seeing you sad, and it sucks even more when there’s not much that I can do to help you.” He was now cupping your face to take the time to rid you of any impurities, and in the wake of his touch, he pressed butterfly kisses onto your skin. 

Your face blossomed into a pink shade at his ministrations, but you didn’t stop him. You held tightly onto the front of his hoodie as he grew to be closer to you. He smelled like home, a soft vanilla with a hint of mint. It made your nose wrinkle and you saw him smile. It was a pretty small one, but it was there nonetheless, and you couldn’t help but smile back. He was intoxicating.

“There you are… There’s my sunshine.” His eyes closed as he kissed your nose. “I don’t want to sound cheesy, or like a simp, but…” He bit his lip when he pulled back. 

“Whenever I find out that you’re not doing well, it makes me wonder why the universe is so against you at times. You are such a radiant person y/n. You hold so much light, so much joy, and positivity. You are such a strong person for going through so much shit, and still being able to put on a smile and make others laugh. I can’t help but admire you sometimes even if you are a dumbass.” He grins when you let out a laugh, slapping his chest, but nevertheless leaning more into his touch as you stare up at him with doe like eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say is. You’re a good person, an excellent example of how people should be. You have so much to offer this world and you never let anything get in your way- God. I could go on and on about you, y/n. I’m crazy about you.” 

Your breath hitched at the last part. Your much smaller hands came to meet his wrists, gently caressing the soft skin there that was exposed. “Tsukki-”

“Kei. Please, for the love of God, call me Kei.” He seemed to almost beg you.

You nodded, “O-Okay… Kei.” His name rolled off your tongue with ease, and you felt him shiver. “Why are you, telling me all of this?” You nervously ask the beanpole. You watched as the gears in his head turned, clearly thinking what to say next, before he’d just smile so softly at you.

“I think I’m in love with you, y/n.”

Eyes widening, you felt so many emotions wash over you. Tsukishima? Liking you? It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought of the possibilities of him liking you before, but it was still odd to even consider it, yet here he was telling you he might be in love with you. A toothy smile came onto your face, and your eyes squinted with joy, and you were back with throwing yourself at him. Nuzzling his chest you let his hand rest on your head, stroking it.

“Yeah… yeah, I think.” Your voice sounded muffled against his chest and the poor boy had to lean down a bit to hear you, “I think I.. I think I like you too, Ts- Kei. I-I’m not ready to say… I’m. That, but, I can say that. I like you.” You  peek up at him with a red face, but your smile never falters. 

“Okay… I can live with that.”

With your head now tilted upwards, chin resting on his chest, he leaned down to gently peck your lips. Electricity ran through you, making you feel so alive. “I know I’m not the best at showing how much I care for you, but I promise you, y/n. I’m gonna try working on it just so you know how much I adore you.” His knuckles felt soft against your flushed skin, and you took it, kissing his palm. 

“Okay.”

The remainder of the night was spent lying in the dewey grass simply gazing at the stars with you tucked neatly in his arms, and every so often he would point out a star and tell you about it. As you slowly began to doze off you realize that perhaps the moon wasn’t as far away as you thought it was. 

[silverfootstepswrites]

Amaryllis | Chapter 4

< Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 >

+++

The Mountain Kingdom was, evidently, a place fond of a good party. Or eight.

"They could have just had the first ball," Sakura remarked.

"But then we wouldn't have had a welcome party for you," countered Sasuke.

"You could have just said 'welcome' at the first party. That's quite welcoming, don't you think?" Sakura pointed out. And as much as Sasuke griped about how annoying social events were, he stuck to his logic.

"We can't have honored guests from the neighboring kingdom and not have a party. My mother would never allow such a thing." He looked baffled by the very idea of such rudeness.

"Well, we can't have Her Majesty upset," Sakura relented. And that seemed to satisfy Sasuke.

The festivities went on for an entire week. Days were spent wandering the streets and visiting the traders' stalls. Performers filled the square with music and dance. The lawns of the palace hosted garden parties with new bards and performance troupes each day. Each night, the palace held a huge party with a different theme.

And, unfortunately, the Queen's tailor had provided more gowns for each day of the ball. Sakura realized this, with no small amount of horror, when she had opened up the wardrobe the morning after the first party.

"Haku."

"Yes, General."

"What fresh hell is this?" Sakura whispered.

"A present from Her Majesty the Queen, General," Haku replied with a sympathetic grimace.

At a loss for words, Sakura echoed Haku's sentiment from the night before. "How… generous."

Haku laughed as he opened the doors wider. "It's not so bad, General. This blue would look nice on you."

Moegi bustled in, arms heavy with fresh sheets and towels. She glanced over the gown.

"Well, that has to wait. Tonight is the masquerade. It'll have to be the gold one," Moegi remarked before she headed into the bedroom.

The masquerade wasn't nearly as dreary as Sakura had feared. She had always been quick on her feet. Her partners weren't always as dextrous as she was, but that was alright. Sasuke was a surprisingly talented dancer. He seemed shocked when she could tell it was him behind the mask.

"It only covers your forehead and eyebrows, Prince. As if anyone else would have that hairstyle," Sakura laughed over brunch the following morning.

"What's wrong with my hair?" he grumbled, running his fingers through it.

"Nothing," she assured him, pushing a plate closer to him. Something had occurred to her last night. She thought out loud as she watched Sasuke pick a pastry apart. "Anyway, I saw a woman with what must have been half a peacock on her head last night. People take this very seriously."

"Ah. Father gives the nobles a chance to strut and fuss for a week. He says they won't be as much of a bother for the rest of the year when he does," sighed Sasuke. Sakura considered this.

"Oh. So it isn't just for tradition. It's strategic," she said.

Sasuke gave her a look. "Why do you have to make everything sound like a war tactic?" he complained.

Sakura snorted. "Because any court is war. You should know that by now." Sasuke just rolled his eyes.

"Pardon me, Your Highness," a servant girl interrupted as she set a fresh pot of tea on the table next to Sasuke's hand. Sasuke gestured for the girl to speak. But instead she moved around the table to hand a rose to Sakura.

"I was instructed to give you this, General," she said. Sakura accepted the flower to examine it. It was a different color from those found in the Queen's garden here. Her roses were light red- almost pink, and carefully pruned so that the thorns would not harm the ladies-in-waiting who plucked them each morning to decorate the throne room.

But this bloom was deep red with sharp prickles scattered up the stem. So jagged that one poked her thumb as she handled it.

Sakura stared at the flower before she blew out a deep breath. "I had a feeling something like this would happen," she remarked. She set the rose down, beside her teacup. But when she felt the servant lingering, she glanced her way.

"Is there something else?" Sakura prompted.

The girl nodded. Her eyes darted to Sasuke. And then to Sakura. She motioned to a manservant who had been waiting near the door. He stepped forward, a carved box carried in his arms. It was made from dark wood. The lid was carved with some sort of complex design that she barely had time to notice before it opened. Inside sat dozens of silvery-blue flowers. The sweet fragrance was familiar to her.

"Ah," Sakura simply remarked, smiling now.

"Those are…" Sasuke slowly said. His eyes widened.

Even if they weren't native to his country, Sasuke recognized moonblooms. Their leaves made tea that was only grown on the Southern Tea Isle. Its sopophoric qualities made it a valuable commodity for doctors and nobles alike. A small dosage calmed the nerves and dulled pain. A larger dose induced a deep sleep.

Moon tea had a light, sweet smell. The nectar produced by the flowers smelled almost like perfume. It was also very valuable, but highly poisonous to humans until it was processed by bees into honey. This was a well-known fact to islanders and foreigners alike. In fact, it was so toxic, that even prolonged contact with the skin was known to cause lethargy.

"Is this a threat? Why have you brought poison into the palace?" Sasuke demanded. And the servant girl flinched, as if this was the very reaction she had been expecting.

"I- no, your Highness. I simply did as I was told," the girl replied.

"And who told you to bring this here?" Sasuke pressed.

As Sasuke grilled the poor girl, Sakura reached for the box.

"General-" the manservant began. But Sakura touched her pointer finger to her mouth in a shushing gesture. She nudged the flowers around until she found the prettiest one. It was remarkable how little they had wilted. She wondered if they had been transported in soil. Or perhaps soaked in water.

"You mean to tell me that you have no idea who ordered you to bring poison here? Into this specific room?" Sasuke was still at hard at work at his interrogation.

"Relax, Prince," Sakura drawled, plucking the flower out of the box.

Sasuke's head whipped around, a retort on his lips. He froze when he saw the flower dangling from her fingers. The terrified servant girl was looking at her too.

"What are you doing? Put that down," Sasuke hissed.

"The poor thing was just bringing me a present. For my homesickness," Sakura remarked.

She opened her mouth and dropped the flower inside. She crushed it between her teeth. Sasuke jolted out of his seat, knocking his teacup to the floor. The porcelain shattered. He grabbed her forearm, eyes wild.

"Spit it out! It's poison," he whispered.

Sakura locked her eyes with his as she ground the sweet petals under her molars. A smile curled her lips.

"So you know that the nectar of moon blooms is highly toxic?" she began. Sasuke looked at her like she had gone crazy. She didn't blame him.

"If I say yes, will you spit it out?" he retorted with a desperate laugh. But Sakura continued to chew as if nothing was wrong. When she swallowed, she could see the hope dimming from Sasuke's eyes. He gaped at her.

"But, did you know that the petals neutralize the toxin?" she concluded, wiping at her mouth with her napkin. Sasuke's grip slackened just as servants ran in to see what the noise was about. They whispered frantically amongst each other. This included Haku, who dashed forward and yanked the wooden chest from the manservant's arms. He slammed it shut.

Sasuke didn't seem to notice any of this. "It does what?" he inquired.

"I'm not quite sure of the science. But the petals make it safe to eat. That's how the wild boar on the island eat them, anyway," explained Sakura, shrugging. Sasuke's hand slid off her and landed on the tabletop. He barely glanced over as the servants knelt to begin cleaning up the bits of the ruined cup. Moegi ran in next, guards in tow. They seized the servant girl by the arms. She let out a cry of pain.

"Oh, let her go. She was delivering a present," Sakura scolded, finally looking over at them again. She fixed the guards with a stern look. "Shame on you. She's just a girl." Baffled, they loosened their grip on her.

"General, she brought you poison," one of them pointed out.

Sakura flapped a hand at them. "Release her. It's only poison to the ignorant," she scoffed. When the guards looked to Sasuke, he just nodded at them. They released the girl, who fell to her knees in a deep bow.

"Please, forgive me, General. I'm just the messenger," she sobbed.

"Yes, yes. I'm aware," Sakura assured her. And then she turned her attention to Sasuke.

"So. Have you figure it out, Prince? It's a very simple puzzle. Childish, even," she prompted, her tone light. Sasuke let out a long sigh of exasperation as he slumped down in his seat. Propping his head up in his right hand, he shook his head. Then he peered at her through his fingers.

"Oh, come now. The pieces are all there. A strange rose. Moonblooms. Try," she spelled out for him. His eyes narrowed. Lowering his hand, he looked across the table at her.

"The sigil of your family is a red rose…" he said. Sakura waited for the rest of the thoughts to process in his head. Sasuke muttered to himself as he considered other facts. His eyes fixed on the rose and then flickered back up to her face. Sakura folded her hands in front of her without saying anything.

"And… I'm assuming that knowledge of the moonblooms is common where you're from. So…. Oh," Sasuke concluded. And when he realized, his eyes lit up. Sakura smiled. She turned to the servant girl.

"Please stop groveling and let my cousin know that I'll see him tonight," she instructed. The girl slowly lifted her head. Revealing her teary eyes.

"Um…" she hesitated.

Sakura chuckled. "No, not that cousin. The other one. The less stupid one," she added. And the girl nodded.

That afternoon, when Sakura returned to her room, she found Moegi and Haku crowded around something in her room. Shedding her jacket, she waited for one of them to take it to hang. Haku moved first. Dark eyes lingering with suspicion on the thing on the bed.

"Well. Um. You have a gift, General," Moegi reported.

Sakura laughed a little. "I can see that, Moegi. Was there a note?"

Moegi shook her head. And then her gaze drifted to the wooden box sitting on the desk. She cringed a little. "Is it the same person who sent you poison, General?" she wondered.

Sakura sighed. "It's not poison, Moegi. It's just flowers."

"Flowers that become poison," Moegi insisted. She wrinkled her nose. She turned her back on the box and turned her attention to the bed.

"I like this gift better," she remarked.

Sakura moved past her to see the source of all the excitement. She cracked a smile as she approached. The gown the Queen's tailor had provided lay to the left. It was white with the same ruffles and gold embroidery that seemed to be so fashionable lately. The long sleeves and the high collar looked unbearably stuffy- and she hadn't even tried it on yet.

To the right, lay a new gown. She didn't recall this particular one, but she could recognize the style. Only one person on the planet could tailor a dress for her without taking a single measurement. Haku looked between the clothing. He made a face at the one to the left. Moegi let out a dreamy sigh, hands clasping together.

"Is this Eastern silk, General? It's even more beautiful than I imagined," Moegi breathed. "May I touch it?"

"It's fabric, Moegi. I can't imagine what else one would do with fabric," Sakura replied. And then she suppressed a snort of laughter as she watched Moegi run her hands up and down the soft garment.

"It's quite… light," Haku finally remarked. He mashed his lips together.

"Speak freely, Haku," Sakura encouraged. And then he met her gaze.

"…Wouldn't such a… free… design get you in trouble, General?" he worried. Sakura nodded.

"Oh, yes. Which is fine. As long as I never have to wear those dreadful, pinching shoes again," she replied. And at those words, Moegi bent down to pick up a pair of soft, flat sandals. Sakura beamed at her.

By the time Sakura was dressed, guests had already begun to arrive. There was a knock on the door. Moegi went out to answer, knowing who it probably was. When the red-haired girl returned, Haku was struggling with a string of pearls. Sakura plucked it from his hands.

"Don't fret. The point of these is to seem randomly placed," she assured him. And with that, she twisted the jewels into her hair, letting them tangle between the strands like they had grown from her head.

"It's Prince Sasuke, General," Moegi reported.

"What about this, General?" Haku queried, holding up a set of thin, golden bracelets. He turned them around, searching for some sort of clasp. Sakura took them. Pinching her fingers together, she forced them over her wrists. They clinked together as they settled into place.

"It's all very… glittery, General," Moegi observed. Sakura could tell from the expression on her face that it might not have been to her taste. But that didn't matter. This felt right.

Haku opened the doors. Sasuke stood in the foyer, his hands clasped behind him. He stared for a long moment. And then his forehead wrinkled.

"You're going to get yourself in trouble," he warned.

"So?" she challenged. His usual smirk returned. He offered his arm to her.

As it was the third night, Sakura was used to the rituals of the ball. Not that it was much different from any other country she had been to. A herald announced their names, complete with absurdly long titles. They walked into the ballroom and everyone gawked. Although the gawking was probably a little more severe this night.

In fact, as they approached the King and the Queen, Sakura heard an older woman gasp, "My word!" There was a great deal of hissing as the ladies of the court whispered behind their fans. Sakura suspected that her exposed shoulders were to blame. Or maybe her back, which was also mostly exposed.

Sakura bowed. Her gold earrings swaying with the movement. As she lifted her head, she caught the Queen's raised eyebrows. But the older woman quickly smoothed out her expression.

"That dress is lovely on you, my dear. It is not often that we see such bold expression in clothing," Queen Mikoto remarked. The warmth of her tone didn't fully mask the surprise in her words. And she must have felt so, too, because she went on. "This must be the famous silk everyone is desperate to buy. I can see now why so many court ladies covet it so."

"If it pleases Your Majesty, I can arrange for some to be sent to your tailor," Sakura offered.

A real smile appeared on the Queen's face. "This would indeed please us."

Sakura bowed again. And Sasuke made some excuse to pull them off to a quieter corner. They could still feel all the stares, but at least Shisui was there.

Shisui, Sakura had learned, was one of the few Uchiha's Sasuke actually seemed willing to talk to. Sasuke seemed to hold him in such high regard that Sakura had no choice but to be polite. But she found that this wasn't difficult. Shisui, while just a baron, knew enough to avoid saying stupid things. He hated the petty gossip of court. He spent most of his time doing paperwork for the King to avoid dealing with the courtiers. It also helped that he was well-versed in the trade and metalwork of his territory. He always had something interesting to share with her.

"This is excellent craftsmanship," Shisui remarked. He gestured to the decorative armor fitted around her middle. The polished brass gleamed. Delicate little roses had been engraved into the thin metal.

"Thank you. I give my blacksmith a headache with all my requests, I'm sure," she said in return.

But that conversation soon ended as people called Shisui to join them. He bowed before he moved away. And during this lull in conversation, Sakura found a server carrying wine. She took a sip. Then stood staring down into in, struggling to decide whether to drink the whole thing at once, or to nurse it throughout the evening. Sasuke sidled up beside her after escaping a chat with one of his aging relatives.

They had a perfect view of Naruto standing at the banquet. He ate a pastry. Glanced around the room. Grinned as he caught her gaze. Waved at her like a little boy.

"It's hard to believe that you're related," whispered Sasuke. Sakura nodded.

"I know," she muttered in response.

"Truly," a third voice agreed.

Sasuke started. He turned to find someone hovering uncomfortably close over Sakura's shoulder. He opened his mouth to remark on this, but stopped. Because Sakura rolled her eyes and leaned closer to him. The man kissed her cheek, an arm snaking around her.

"Apologies for the sudden visit, Darling. You're looking lovely," he greeted her.

"Yes. Send Deidara my thanks," Sakura answered. He looked appalled.

"Oh, just Deidara. Not your dearest cousin who brought it all the way over the sea up these mountains?" he challenged her.

Sakura turned her head to really look at him.

"You're incredibly annoying," she told him.

"You have an odd way of pronouncing the word 'handsome'," he replied.

She looked him over. And then her lips pulled up at the corners. "What excuse did you use this time?"

"Oh, no excuses. I merely wrote to Her Majesty the Queen. To thank her for her hospitality towards our beloved General. I also might have extolled the virtues of the Mountain Kingdom. Who knows. Either way, she extended an invitation to this soiree. She thinks I'm charming," he answered. And then he directed a look toward the two thrones at the far end of the room. He dipped his head. The Queen reciprocated the gesture.

"Of course. And you had your ships and horses prepared so you could hurry here as soon as the letter was in your hand," Sakura guessed. His golden eyes met hers, sparkling with the obvious answer.

Sakura shook her head. She turned back to Sasuke.

"Prince Sasuke, meet Admiral Sasori Haruno of the Forest Kingdom. My cousin," sighed Sakura.

Sasori and Sasuke sized each other up. As all noblemen tended to do. It reminded her of the way that she would look over an opponent during a spar. She knew Sasori well enough that she could tell that he was making judgments in his head. Noting every detail of Sasuke's appearance. They were so quiet that Sakura began to worry that she would have to separate them. But then Sasuke extended his hand first. Sasori shook it.

"Welcome to Goliaf, Admiral. My apologies for not greeting you sooner," Sasuke began.

"Thank you for the warm welcome, Prince Sasuke. It's a wonderful place. The stories don't do it justice," Sasori said in return.

"It's an honor to meet you. I've heard many things of your naval conquests. It seems that military prowess is somewhat of a family trade," answered Sasuke with equal flattery.

Sakura rolled her eyes, letting out a loud sigh.

"Can you two please stop that? Sasori, the Prince isn't one of those types. You can speak to him like a normal person," Sakura informed him.

"Oh, thank goodness. I detest having to flatter people. Other than you, at least," Sasori said, relief written all over his face. He nudged Sakura a little. She ignored him. He didn't seem to mind as he went on: "Although, I should have guessed when you wrote and said that he was a fine companion. You usually only reserve such compliments for your horse."

Sasuke looked offended. And then thoughtful.

"It is a good horse," he admitted.

Sasori chuckled.

"Alright. I see what you mean," he added. And then he regarded Sasuke. "Thank you for taking such good care of my cousin, Prince Sasuke."

Sasuke nodded.

As the orchestra began a new song, Sasori's face lit up.

"Oh, finally. A decent tune. Shall we?" he said, already pulling Sakura to the dance floor.

Sakura put her right hand in his left. His right hand settled on the small of her back before they transitioned into the correct steps of the dance. It was a waltz. Sasori spun them around. They had first learned to dance with each other. They could have done this with their eyes closed. And so, undistracted by the steps, they took this time to speak. No one would hear them over the music, and they were moving around too much to really find a good place to eavesdrop.

"He doesn't fancy you, you know," Sasori started off the conversation.

"I'd hope not. I don't fancy him either," she responded in a light voice.

"Are you going to marry him?"

A smile brightened Sakura's face.

"I can't marry a crown prince. You think I'd want to sold off like a cow when I have my own lands to look after?" she scoffed.

"As if you would let anyone send you somewhere against your will."

They both laughed at that.

Sakura could feel the stares on them as they twirled around. The airy silk of her dress was a welcome change from the heavier materials the Mountain Kingdom favored. It was white and flowed around her like billowing ocean waves. The bodice of the dress was held in place by the decorative armor. The sheer sleeves of the dress sloped off her shoulders, revealing the toned muscles in her back. Delicate strands of gold and pearls were draped across her shoulders until they trailed down her back to connect to the belt.

"Mother said your dress was far too revealing," remarked Sasori.

"She's right. But I like it," she answered.

"You don't look like you've been sleeping well," he then observed. She didn't even try to deny it.

"Is it something in particular that's worrying you?" Sasori pressed. He twirled her around. She spun back in under his raised arm.

"Not really. My head is just filled with too many thoughts," she replied.

When she turned back around, Sasori was smiling at her with his mouth. "As usual, then?"

"As usual," she confirmed.

They chatted their way through two more songs. Though, chatting was a bland word to describe the amount of sarcasm and eye-rolling that passed between them. Sasori ridiculed the painted-on moles and ruffled collars of some of the men. He mocked their snooty accents and attempts to impress their companions. This wasn't because court here was so different from events at Whiteriver Keep. In fact, there was no difference. And the fact that such pretention could transcend culture was so hilarious to Sasori that he seemed to find it necessary to mock every noble he could.

"You do realize that we're also noble," Sakura pointed out with a wry look.

"Oh. Darling. It's different," he assured her.

"Different how?"

"We're simply better than them," he answered. The smirk he gave her made her scowl.

"Your arrogance is untenable."

"I know. And you love it," Sasori teased.

When they spun, Sakura was laughing again. As the third song ended, Sakura pulled them off the dance floor.

"You're monopolizing me. People will talk," Sakura warned.

"Let them. Little people worry about little things," he scoffed.

Her forehead creased as she thought. "Then what do big people worry about?"

"Big people, my darling, worry about the little people. But people like you or I," Sasori paused mid-sentence. His eyes darted around, like he was about to tell a secret. He beckoned for her. Sakura leaned in.

"We don't worry. We simply do," whispered Sasori. His hand rested on the small of her back as he led her into the clusters of guests. Some of them feigned ignorance. Others let their stares drill into them. As Sasori moved them toward one group, Sakura caught something out of the corner of her eye. She turned, scanning the ballroom. And then, just because, she looked up.

Itachi leaned against the stone railings. Their gazes met. He lifted his latest book in greeting to her. Sakura smiled. But before she could do anything else, Sasori's hand closed around her wrist. She allowed herself to be led away.

When the ball ended several hours later, Sakura said her usual farewells to Sasuke. He and Sasori had hit it off. They had bonded over their mutual frustration at silly courtly rituals. And they had all shared a good laugh over the ridiculous wig one of Sasuke's aging uncles had dared to wear to cover his balding head. Sasuke headed back to his quarters.

"Shall we?" Sakura suggested.

"I have no idea where I'm going," he confessed. Sakura rolled her eyes.

"Don't worry. I'll protect you," she teased as she led them in the right direction.

"The wine was almost tolerable," Sasori remarked as they began walking.

"I think I might need another glass before bed. My poor feet," Sakura griped in response. Sasori stopped in his tracks. He glanced down at her shoes.

"I'll have the cordwainer's head," he said.

Sakura shook her head. "No. It was the shoes I wore earlier this week. The women in this country must suffer dearly," she explained.

She could see Sasori thinking. He frowned. And then he offered his arm to her.

"We can walk slowly. And maybe this will distract you," Sasori suggested.

"What?"

"Prince Naruto has gained a few pounds since coming here. I almost mistook him for Count Akimichi." She laughed. He always knew what to say to get her to smile.

She laid her head on his shoulder.

"I missed you," she confessed in a small voice.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now," he assured her.

When they made it back to the apartment, Sasori pulled an envelope from inside his jacket.

"I almost forgot. Excuse me for a moment," Sasori said, handing it over to her. And with that, he slipped into the bathroom.

"Welcome back, General. Who is….?" Haku greeted them, his head following the bathroom door as it closed. He exchanged a look with Moegi, who shrugged.

Sakura slit the envelope with the dagger strapped to her thigh. She already knew who it was from.

Dear Lady Sakura,

I hope the summer season finds you well. We've had a few storms here and there, but the weather has been agreeable so far. Count Hatake has assured us that the tea crop is doing well. He attributes it to a new fertilizer he has been using. I didn't understand much, but he seemed excited.

You have, undoubtedly, heard of our cousin's recent triumph over some pirates. With the trade waters freed up, trade has continued unhindered. The treasury continues to do well, although I am finding it difficult to negotiate a lower tax as you had requested last month.

The children in the orphanage were disappointed not to see you. They ask for you often. And Sami is a lonely place without you. I am aware that our cousin has taken it upon himself to keep you company at Goliaf. I apologize as I should have attempted to stop him. Please don't be too upset with him. He's been moping. He missed you terribly. As do I.

Please be safe. I will continue to watch over Plumeria until you return home.

Sincerely yours,

Gaara

"I was not moping," Sasori protested as he read over her shoulder.

"Gaara doesn't lie," Sakura stated.

Sasori's hand flew to his chest. "And I do?"

She stared at him. And after a moment, Sasori lowered his hand.

"It wasn't moping," he insisted again. "I was bored. I'd rather travel up this damn mountain than sit there kissing that Regent's pale ass."

"Be-have!" Sakura scolded, knocking her shoulder against his.

"Um…" Moegi hedged.

"Yes?" Sakura replied.

Moegi puckered her lips together. "Will the gentleman be… staying much longer? It's getting late, General," she said with a pointed look at Sasori. His eyebrows rose.

"Moegi, Haku, this is my cousin, Admiral Sasori Haruno. Much like an infection, he is uninvited, but will be staying with us for a while," Sakura introduced the man, clapping a hand over his shoulder. Sasori's eyes rolled toward her.

"Are you comparing me to a cold?"

"To gangrene," Sakura corrected him. Ignoring Sasori's glare, Sakura graced Moegi with a smile.

"Some fresh sheets for him. And some wine for me," she requested. Moegi cast Sasori another wary look. And then she nodded.

"Right away, General," she responded and she stepped out of the room.

"She seems very distrusting. I like her," Sasori remarked as he watched the servant girl leave. And then his gaze flicked over Haku.

"I have a question for you, my dear," Sasori then said. He walked over to grasp both of Haku's hands. Haku flinched. But when his panicked gaze turned to Sakura for an explanation, all she could do was shrug.

"I must ask what an exquisite creature such as yourself," began Sasori. Haku's cheeks bloomed bright pink," Is doing in women's clothing."

Haku's face turned white.

Sasori's gold eyes were bright as he looked down at Haku's slender fingers. He released his hands to pinch Haku's cheeks instead. Stretching. Testing the elasticity of his fair skin. And then he examined Haku's hair.

"You're quite delicate for a boy. How old are you? 11? 12? Is this a tradition here? Serving visiting nobles like this? Do the women dress like men, then?" conjectured Sasori. When Haku's pleading look turned to her, Sakura let out a long breath.

"That's enough. Leave the poor child alone," she intervened. When Sakura patted his shoulder, Sasori ceased his barrage of questions. He took a step away from Haku, hands held up in surrender.

"He just arrived, General. How…" Haku trailed off. His voice heavy with despair.

Sakura pushed Sasori aside. She smoothed Haku's uniform. Tucked his hair behind his ear.

"My family is… well-versed in artifice. Don't worry yourself, Haku. It wouldn't be obvious to anyone else," she tried to comfort him. Sakura shot Sasori a glare over her shoulder. He shrugged. When her eyes narrowed, Sasori raised his eyebrow in response. She jerked her chin.

"Well, I'm exhausted," Sasori announced, taking the hint. "And it was a long journey. I'll see you in the morning." Fingers grasping her shoulder, he kissed her right temple. And then her cheek. Only when she stopped scowling did he release her.

+++

When Admiral Haruno arrived at Goliaf Castle, the courtiers fell into a frenzy.

Sakura had drawn attention from her first day in court. Her pink hair drew eyes wherever she went. And her eyes were teal, clear and bright against the dark brown Uchiha gazes. She held up her wrist against the paleness of Sasuke's arm and laughed all the time.

The arrival of her cousin with an even more foreign appearance had the courtiers practically falling over themselves to catch even a glimpse of him.

Sasori had dark red hair, which seemed to run in the family. And the warm, bronzed skin of a man who had spent time in the sun. The two stood out wherever they went together. And they were rarely seen apart.

"There's a man watching us from that bush. With binoculars," Sakura pointed out one afternoon. She sat in one of the castle's lounges. Now that the week of opulent parties had ended, she was back in pants. Which were honestly so much more comfortable.

"Oh. I didn't see that one," Sasori replied. He glanced out the window. He raised a hand in greeting. The bush let out a panicked rustle.

Sasuke, who was often seen with them now, shook his head.

"How do you notice things like that?" he wondered, not for the first time.

But it was the first time Sakura gave him a straightforward answer. "I should hope you never learn to notice such things, Prince. A lifetime of paranoia is to thank for my skill, unfortunately."

Sasuke cringed as he realized that he may have touched on a nerve. Sasori, however, seemed unbothered.

"Fun fact. Three men in our family have died from choking on grapes." As he spoke, he tossed one of the purple fruits up in the air. He caught it in his mouth.

When Sasuke looked to Sakura for confirmation, she nodded.

"They were brothers. Allergic to grapes, apparently," she elaborated. Sasori's face lit up as something occurred to him. He leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Sakura's face contorted as she listened. And then she rolled her eyes as he went on. But as he continued speaking, he coaxed a chuckle from her. She pushed Sasori away. Sasuke eyed their exchange with interest.

"So when does this torment start? Her Majesty asked us to be here by 2. And it's…" Sakura trailed off as she looked around the room until she found a clock. "Quite past 2," she concluded.

It was Sasuke's turn to make a face. "People tend to take 'fashionably late' to the extreme. They should arrive soon," Sasuke assured her.

The entourage of noble ladies arrived several minutes later. They were close associates of the Queen, which was probably the only thing that kept Sasori from outright mocking their ridiculous hats. Sakura also tried her best not to gawk at their voluminous, ornate garbs. She nodded each time one introduced herself in a trilling voice and affected accent. Sasori reclining back in his seat, nodded along.

"Her Majesty?" one of the woman asked, looking to Sasuke.

"My Mother, unfortunately, is unable to attend. She sends her regrets," Sasuke explained.

Sasori quietly pointed out Sasuke's stiff posture. Despite his reputation as a heartbreaker, it appeared that he wasn't quite comfortable in social settings like this one.

"So, General, Prince Sasuke has told us that you two are cousins? I thought you were siblings for a moment!" one of the women started the conversation. She waved her fan under her chin. But despite her friendly tone, there was hunger lurking in her expression. Like a predator staking out prey. Waiting for the right moment to strike.

An easy smile spread across Sakura's face. She gestured to Sasori.

"We practically are, Viscountess. We're ever so close," Sakura matched her tone. She saw the woman's eyes widened in surprise. But the viscountess was a seasoned lady of the court. She held on to her composure.

"I lost my mother when I was young. My Aunt, Lady Kurenai, has always raised me as her own. We grew up almost like brother and sister," she went on.

Sakura knew the game. Mentioning her tragic past always garnered sympathy. And she could see it worming its way into the viscountess' heart. The woman's face softened.

"Oh, how unfortunate. My condolences, General," one of the other women spoke up. The others followed in a chorus of sympathy.

The conversation flowed smoothly from there. Noble ladies led sheltered lives. They were fascinated by what lay outside the borders of their fancy estates. It was a simple matter to suck them in with stories of the bazaar and of a city that lay inside a caldera.

Sasori stepped in when one of the ladies asked to hear war stories. He didn't even need to look at Sakura's to see the shift in her expression.

By the time the tea party was over, the ladies were fawning over Sasori.

"Oh, this has been so much fun. The both of you must make time for us again," the viscountess gushed.

Sakura dipped her head. She kept her smile appropriately humble.

"I almost want to send a letter to your king and thank him for sending you to us," one of the ladies giggled.

"Regent," Sasori's voice whipped out.

He was met with blank stares. "…pardon?"

"He is the King Regent," Sasori repeated. He smiled again. But rather than elicit giggles, this one chilled the air around them. Everyone exchanged nervous glances.

Clearing her throat, Sakura got to her feet. "Ladies, thank you so much for your time. It was truly an honor and a pleasure to spend this time with you," Sakura announced. Hand over her heart, she dipped in a formal bow. There was a pause, and then the ladies slowly looked at each other. Their smiles returned. Everyone mused the customary greetings before they got to their feet. As the ladies filed out of the room, Sasuke stared at Sasori. The way his smile abruptly dropped as soon as the ladies' backs were turned was terrifying.

"Prince Sasuke," Sakura said. She was staring at Sasori.

"Yes?" Sasuke replied too quickly. He felt like he was in trouble, somehow.

"My cousin and I must get some fresh air," Sakura announced. She strode out of the room first. Sasori's jaw clenched. Like he might not follow her. But he did. He always did.

They moved at a brisk pace down the hall. Boots echoing against the stone floors. They turned a corner. And then another. When Sakura stopped, Sasori nearly ran into her back.

"….Sasori," she said in a long exhale. Her back still to him, she walked to the nearest window. She stared out it. Saying nothing else.

Sasori stood rooted in place, fists at his sides. Waiting.

But she didn't go on. Didn't shake her head or give him a knowing look. That was worse, somehow. The guilt of the silence stretched on and on until Sasori couldn't take it anymore.

"I won't apologize. I wasn't wrong," he growled.

Sakura didn't answer him. That only seemed to irritate him more.

"If even nobles from other nations are calling him the king, then what must your own people think? It's a disgrace, Sakura. I can't believe you're calm right now," spat Sasori, his words jumbling together in his anger. Sakura pressed her palm to the windowpane.

"Sasori," she quietly called. And though Sasori's eyes were narrowed, he stopped speaking.

"Yes," he bit out.

It was then that he caught her expression in the window. She leveled him with a hard look.

"You are my right hand, Sasori. Anything you say is a reflection of my opinions as well."

"But that is your opinion. I'm not wrong," he insisted.

The sharp line of her back was a harsh thing against the sunlight. Her shoulders were rigid, like she was made of stone.

"Losing your temper will be dangerous for the both of us. You need to keep your anger towards the Regent in check," Sakura reminded him, not for the first time.

"It's buried."

"Bury it deeper," she ground out. And then she shot his reflection another glare.

His shoulders finally slumped. That was as close as he would get to admitting defeat.

"You want me to bow my head to that usurper? To smile and fawn like nothing is wrong?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"That throne should have been yours the moment you turned 16," he whispered.

"Sasori," she warned him.

"And if not then, when you returned from the battlefield, a blooded warrior. A victor. Then, you should have been crowned."

Sakura closed the gap between them. Hand shooting out to grab the front of his uniform. She waited for Sasori to look her in the face.

He bared his teeth in a bitter smile. "One day, you will wear that crown on your head. Even if it means that I must tear it from his empty skull myself," he declared.

"Careful. You don't know who is listening," she hissed. His eyes burned a fierce gold as he smirked at her.

Then, in a louder voice, Sakura added, "I will not have you speak treason. Even if you are my cousin. Keep your mouth shut." She shoved him away. But before she could snatch her hand back, Sasori grasped it. Pressing it to his heart, he stared at her.

"As you say, Princess," he replied.

Sakura looked over him. It took an extra moment for the easy, unbothered expression to return to his face. But she knew that years of practice would not betray him. She was almost as good at it as he was.

"That temper," she sighed.

Sasori kissed the back of her hand. She snatched it from his grip.

"I would die for you," he declared.

"I know," she said. She reached out and straightened the collar of his shirt.

Though Sasori agreed not to start foaming at the mouth at the mention of the King Regent again, his cold attitude toward Naruto went unchanged. Then again, even in the Forest Kingdom, Sasori rarely exchanged words with him. He treated him much like one of the topiaries in the garden. Decorative but otherwise useless.

Sasori had arrived on Wednesday evening, but he had not greeted Naruto. Did not even acknowledge him until the following morning. And even that was against his will.

"You invited him to breakfast?" Sasori exclaimed. He nearly stabbed himself in the hand as he looked up from his eggs. Sakura said nothing. She gave Sasuke a look over her teacup. Sasuke, seated to her left, tried not to choke on his mouthful of food.

Sasori shoved his plate away. "Well, now I've lost my appetite," he declared.

Sakura pushed it back towards him. "Stop being dramatic and eat." And then she leaned back in her seat with a sigh. "You know as well as I do that I would rather not see him. But it hardly seems subtle to have the three of us together while he sits alone in the dining hall. Word travels."

Sasori glowered down at his plate. "I can think of a word I'd like to travel," he muttered.

Sasuke snorted into his tea. Sakura rolled her eyes at the both of them.

"Please stop making Sasuke laugh. He'll never get through breakfast at this rate," she requested.

"Are we onto first names now?" Sasori teased her.

"Of course, Sasori," Sasuke said in return. Sasori didn't let Sasuke's jabs ruffle his feather. And Sasuke was quick to come up with witty responses. Sasori detested people who were slow. So he had immediately taken a liking to the prince. And Sakura found them an excellent source of entertainment.

Half an hour, a servant announced Prince Naruto's arrival. The title chafed at Sasori. He reminded her, at every opportunity, that he wasn't even actually a prince. He did this very thing as Naruto entered the room. Sakura picked up her knife very slowly. She made eye contact with Sasori as she sliced into a piece of bread. He seemed to get the message. He behaved himself as Naruto approached.

"Good morning, everyone. Thank you for having me," Naruto greeted them.

Sasori motioned for a glass of wine. He instructed for the servant to keep pouring until it was filled nearly to the brim.

"Good morning, Prince Naruto," Sasuke was the first to respond.

"Good morning," Sakura said. She indicated the empty seat beside Sasori.

Sasori, lips puckered together, gave Naruto a vague noise. That turned into a bowed head when he caught Sakura's glare. He then took a long slurp of his wine, giving her a wide-eyed look. Like he couldn't possibly understand what she was annoyed about.

To be fair, she wasn't exactly being a good companion either. In the morning, she had asked Moegi to get flowers for the table. Big, puffy zinnias filled the centerpiece. They were so tall that they nearly obscured Naruto's face from her view.

"I trust you had pleasant dreams," Sakura began as she set her cup down. Naruto shifted in his seat, trying to see her around the petals. After some squirming to the left and right, he sagged in his chair.

"Uh, yeah. I mean- yes. Sorry I woke up so late. I forgot we were having breakfast until a servant woke me," Naruto confessed, a sheepish grin on his face. He thanked the servant who brought him a plate of warm food. He began slathering fruit preserves onto his bread, humming cheerfully.

Sasori eyed his table manners and let out an exhausted sigh. He touched his fingers to his temple.

"I saw you enjoying the wine selection last night. I'm glad it was to your liking," Sasuke offered.

Naruto's eyes widened. He took a bite of toast. His forehead wrinkled as he thought. "It was pretty good. I'm not the only one who thought so, right?" he spoke, not quite finished chewing his food.

He turned to Sasori. "I heard you like wine too, Admiral. Maybe you could teach me more about it. We're cousins, right?"

His feeble attempt at familiarity fell flat. Sasori's jaw twitched.

"Well, Second Cousin, developing a palette for wine is possible through training. Although I'm not more surprised that your father hasn't taught you already. I do hear that he's nearly a sommelier himself," Sasori retorted.

Sasuke's eyes went wide. He heard the insult buried between those words. But when his gaze turned to Naruto, he found him still eating with the same pleasant expression on his face. He looked to Sakura, who just gave a helpless sigh.

"Oh, I didn't know that. Maybe I should ask him," Naruto said. And Sakura squeezed the bridge of her nose between her fingertips.

Taking pity on the oblivious boy, Sakura spoke up. "Sasori, we should leave for the market soon. Finish your food."

Naruto glanced at her. "Already? It's so early!"

Sasori's eyes narrowed. "Actually, we've been up since dawn. Prince Sasuke and Sakura went horseback riding. I've been writing letters for official business. Those of us that actually have responsibilities don't sleep until noon, Prince," Sasori retorted. The wounded look on Naruto's face tugged at Sakura's heartstrings.

"It's not quite 10, Sasori. You shouldn't treat everyone like a soldier," she admonished. Naruto's face lit up like a beacon. Nodding vigorously, Naruto dug into his food with gusto. Sasori held his teacup out and had a servant pour wine into it.

"Well," Sakura said over the sounds of Naruto's munching. She placed her napkin on her plate.

"I'm quite full. Excuse me, gentlemen," Sakura announced. As she got to her feet, Sasuke and Sasori stood too. Naruto, still chewing, scrambled to stand a little too late. He swallowed whatever was in his mouth.

"Sakura, I'll see you later?" he asked. Almost pleaded.

Sakura stared at him.

"Perhaps," was all she said, before she exited the room.

That afternoon, Sakura sat on the windowsill in the library. After returning from the market, she had changed into lighter clothes. A soft cotton shirt. Riding breeches. Her hair tied in a low ponytail. Fixed in place by a gold band.

Itachi closed his book and set it on the table. He gave her an incredulous look.

"So you invited him for breakfast, knowing you would hate it?" he queried.

"I said I was trying to be polite. I didn't say I succeeded," she responded with a vague air of sulking.

Itachi thought. And then he said, "Well, effort matters, I suppose. Although I'm guessing that it's a matter of which side of the family you're dealing with." He was sitting in a wooden chair, a cream-colored shawl wrapped around his shoulders. The fabric covered his hands too, exposing only his fingertips as he traced the spine of his latest book. A lock of dark hair fell into his face and he brushed it away, tucking it behind his ear.

Sakura's combat boots thumped against the carpet as she sauntered over and pulled out the chair beside him. Spinning it around, she sat backwards in it, arms crossing on top. Sakura leaned back on two of the wooden legs as she regarded Itachi.

"Are you asking me about my family?" she inquired. Itachi's fingers steepled together on the table.

"Anyone can read about your family in a history book, General." But his eyes didn't say no.

"So you're asking me specifically about why I hate one of my cousins and not the others," Sakura specified. The front chair legs landed on the floor again with a muffled thud against the carpet. Itachi simply regarded her.

Though Sakura hadn't known Prince Itachi for very long, she had had many conversations with him. His health prevented him from horseback riding or sword-fighting. There was little else he could do but talk. And even then, he didn't seem to be interested in hearing about her military conquests like his younger brother was.

They had discussed everything from politics to the differences in trade in their two countries. Itachi was surprisingly open to argument. And he patiently explained the more difficult concepts without jeering at her. Sakura had attended the military academy for four years, where she had been taught the essentials of history and tactics. And even before that, she had studied under private tutors. But Itachi was a walking encyclopedia. She had never met someone so universally knowledgeable.

They had never set a time to meet. But Sakura began to show up around the same time each day. And Itachi was waiting for her most days. On the days he wasn't, he had taken up the habit of leaving a note for her, pressed between the pages of the latest book he recommended. Some days he was well, some days he wasn't. She wondered what the specific trigger was that had him confined to bed some days, but not others.

"Well, Prince, it seems your hunger for knowledge isn't limited to books," Sakura said with a smile. Itachi rested his cheek in his hand.

"Please, humor me," he insisted.

"Do you never tire of hearing about my life?"

"Never," Itachi assured her.

So she recounted cool mornings spent with tutors as she learned about the land she was to rule. The afternoons, she was free to roam the city, and Sasori always came along with her. They weaved through the crowded walkways, tasting fruit and marveling at the glimmering bolts of silk dyed rich blues and reds. Pockets jingling with gold, they filled their hands with pastries, eating their fill before giving the rest to the dirty children who were often shooed away by merchants.

Because he was older than her, Sasori was sent to the military academy before her. She had cried bitterly at his departure, even though he wrote faithfully to her each week.

"The Admiral is from your… mother's… side?" asked Itachi.

"Yes. My mother's only sister. The Haruno's rarely have many children."

"And Prince Naruto?" he prompted.

It almost felt like she was being quizzed on her own family. But Sakura didn't actually mind. It was nice to be able to tell her view of things without someone jumping to conclusions. To Itachi, she supposed, it was as she told it.

"Naruto is my father's brother's son." Her tone was significantly cooler. And she wasn't smiling now.

Itachi remarked on this. She touched her fist to her chin as she thought.

"I don't hate him," Sakura decided, "But he and his family are careless people. Careless people live quite happily themselves, but they leave pain in their wake." She didn't know why she was revealing this to a man who was still almost a stranger. But Itachi didn't seem surprised.

"But careless people don't mean to cause pain, I'd think," he countered. Gently. Which was how he spoke on most topics.

"That's the worst part about people like that, I suppose. So I will not hate him. But I certainly cannot love him," Sakura insisted.

There was a long silence. Her eyes were drawn to the way Itachi tapped his fingers on the table. He picked up his book, opening it to the last page he had marked. The dry rustle of the pages turning filled the air. Closed the book again.

"That seems like a very painful way to live life," Itachi finally observed.

Her mouth curled up. "It's excruciating," she assured him.

"I'm sorry," he said for some reason. She didn't know what to say in response to that.

He did that a lot. Left her speechless. Not in an uncomfortable way.

Closing her eyes, she sat in that silence. Breathed in the musty smell of all those old books. Imagine all the history that lived in the spines. In the age-worn covers.

She opened her eyes. Itachi was watching her.

When he smiled at her, she found herself smiling in return.

"I've been hearing a lot of talk about you again."

Ino lifted her eyes from her novel for a moment before she lifted it higher to cover her face. She ignored her mother and pretended to continue reading. Her mother always harped on about how novels were a low brow form of reading. That a noblewoman should be reading poetry or history books. Which was why she chose to read these books exclusively in her mother's presence.

Ino took her time reading the page. Turned to the next with a flick of her wrist. But the Countess was undeterred. She stared at her daughter until Ino could no longer ignore the sizzling stare burning a hole through her book.

"Talk isn't always bad. What kind of talk?" Ino sighed, finally showing some reluctant interest.

"That garden party you attended last week while I was away…" the Countess began. At this, Ino slowly lowered her book to peer over the top of it. Her sky blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"I heard you were the star of the show, my dear. The Queen had some very good things to say about you."

Ino said nothing in response. She twitched her nose without comment before raising her book again. Letting out a loud sigh of frustration, the Countess snatched the book away and set it down on the table. In retaliation, Ino snapped her fan open and held it up to shield her face again. The Countess shook her head.

"Anyhow, the Queen told me that you were a charming companion to have along. She said you were a lovely young woman. And she said to convey her thanks for being such a good friend to her daughter," the Countess listed off with enthusiasm. Ino slowly shut her fan. Eyes fixated on the table, she muttered something under her breath. The Countess paused her monologue.

"Did you say something, dear?" she questioned, turning to her daughter. Ino glanced up with a sullen look.

"I said… you do realize that the Queen Regent isn't Sakura's mother?" she repeated. Ino began picking at imaginary lint on her dress while her mother let out a flustered noise- a cross between a harrumph and gasp.

"Well, young lady, first of all, you should not address the Princess by her name so casually. And second of all, you would do well to mind your tongue. The Queen is still the Queen," the Countess scolded. Ino dangled her fan by the edge, letting its weight slowly spread it open. Propping her chin up in her hand, Ino slouched in her seat.

"Well, Mother, Sakura asked me to call her by her name. And I'd think you and Father would be the last people to bend to the Namikaze family's whims. You were such good friends with Queen Tsunade and King Jiraiya," Ino sniffed. The Duchess scowled.

"Queen Tsunade, may she rest in peace, was my friend, yes. But we serve the Crown, Ino. You should know that," the older woman insisted.

"You should be supporting Sakura if her mother was your friend," Ino shot back.

The two women glared at one another before they finally looked away.

"Your neckline is much too low," the Countess finally said.

"And you have too much powder on your face," Ino snippily retorted. Still, she tugged up the front of her dress. It was deep purple with small lighter flowers embroidered into the fabric. While it was true that the garment did show off her neck and collarbones, along with a generous portion of cleavage, it was nowhere near the most scandalous piece of clothing she owned. The skirt covered her ankles and her back was not revealed. Just to irritate her mother, Ino crossed her arms, mashing her breasts together to emphasize her cleavage. The Countess sighed.

"Ino, listen to me. Our family has survived for all these years because we have always chosen our sides wisely. Now, Princess Sakura is a wonderful person. But she will not be Queen. And to choose her side is to lose everything our family has worked for."

"Whatever happened to us being loyal? Isn't that what you and Father go on and on about all the time? Duty and loyalty?" Ino dug with a toothy smile. There was venom in her voice.

"It is the duty of a noble lady to obey her parents, not oppose them," the Countess rebuked.

"And it is the duty of parents, then, to act in a manner that deserves respect!" Ino spat.

"Ino!" the Countess growled in a fierce warning. Ino snapped her mouth shut but her eyes still glowed with hot resentment. The Countess took a few deep breaths to calm herself before she spoke again.

"Ino, the politics of court are not just a game. You have to be discerning. Just as you must be discerning in choosing your future husband," came her sharp reply. Ino deflated further at the mention of marriage. Lip jutting out in a sullen pout, Ino didn't say anything in response.

"Now, you should get ready for your harp lesson," the Countess concluded the discussion as she got to her feet. She squeezed Ino's hand and was off. Ino slouched down in her chair as low as it would allow. She opened and closed her fan once more before she tossed it onto the table.

Ino thought back to the letter she had received from Ispolin earlier that week.

Sakura had told her about the parties. She recounted the strangest conversations with some of the Mountain Kingdom's nobles. She mentioned that she was glad that Sasori had showed up. Of course he had. They were rarely apart. To see one without the other was odd.

Growing up, Ino had often envied the two. Their closeness. To the point that she had begged her parents for a younger sibling. And she had envied even more how Sakura had no parents to tell her what to do. But what she had envied most was her confidence. That despite the fact that they were the same age, Sakura already spoke with the presence of a queen.

When I am in power, this will be mine, she'd say as they approached Whiteriver Keep in a carriage.

"I don't want to play the harp," huffed Ino to no one in particular. And just because she could, she kicked at one of the legs of the table and sat sulking over the pain in her toe.

+++

< Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 >

[marvelandimagine]

In My Home (Chapter 2)

Series summary: After Wakanda opens its borders, you begin working in Shuri’s lab as part of an all-women STEM program, and you meet a certain White Wolf. What starts out as mutual bonding over science turns into much more than you ever could have anticipated. 

Loosely inspired by Young the Giant’s “In My Home”

Pairing: Bucky x scientist reader

Word Count: 1,960

Warnings: Language, PTSD, sexual thoughts

A/N: WELP Bucky’s internal POV turned out longer than I thought but I pinky promise chapter three is going to be dialogue for dayzzzz

Reader Tags: @staringmoony @noxxia @mikithekiki @just-a-littlebit-of-everything  @galaxy-siren 

Bucky can’t stop thinking about you. He knows he’s in deep because he finds himself replaying conversations and moments together with you over and over in his head, trying to engrave their details into his memory—the sound of your laugh, how you talk with your hands, the glint in your eyes he thinks he’s seen whenever the two of you end up physically close (which seems to be a lot lately)––that goddamn indecipherable look that’s driving him crazy as he mentally weighs the pros and cons of finally acting on what he desperately wants, to finally bring his lips to yours, to feel your body pressed against his while your tongue slips between his teeth and his hands tangle in your hair––

And he keeps trying his best to stop his imagination right there (often failing) because he’s not sure he can trust his mind on this. Because the thought that you could ever reciprocate, could even come close to feeling the way he feels about you, would ever want to be with him in any sense of really being with someone, that had to just be a dream.

But then his brain tugged at him to recall moments that had happened between the two of you that he was pretty damn sure he didn’t imagine. How welcoming you were when he first met you, how you were willing to open up to him about your past so that it might help him in his present. And when he found himself spilling his guts about his uncertainty regarding whether or not Shuri had really fixed him, not knowing what to do with the lingering anxiety and flashbacks and nightmares––you still didn’t treat him like a bomb that was about to go off. You just treated him like a human being.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced that since Steve snapped him out of his Hydra programming—a lot of people had been kind to him. And he’d done what Shuri asked and hit up a few veteran support group meetings in the city and even livestreamed a few in the States, so he had related to others with similar experiences before meeting you. He just couldn’t explain it, the connection he felt to you, like you both went through life following the same rhythm. As ridiculous and sentimental as it sounded in his head, it was like your souls seemed to be in sync.

You were funny and hopeful and kind and so, so pretty, even in a lab coat and faded band t-shirt. You drew him in without even trying, and the connection he felt with you––that he wondered, hoped, dreamed you could maybe even feel a fraction of––kept growing stronger the more time you spent together. He initially couldn’t even believe you wanted to spend time with him, but he slowly stopped questioning it and tried to just go with it without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He just tried to enjoy being present with you, whether he was reading your loaned copy of Bill Nye’s Undeniable: Evolution and the Science of Creation while you whirled around the lab, or utterly absorbed in listening to you do your best to catch him up on a highlight reel of humanitarian achievements and pop culture while he told you about 1930s New York City and the inventions that blew his mind (he still was waiting for a flying car, but self-driving cars were still pretty damn impressive) over sambusa and the best lamb and rice dish he was sure he’d ever have, confiding and laughing and flirting all over the city.

He may not have been with a woman in literally decades, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice signs of seeming attraction and affection, small actions and comments you dropped here and there that made his heart stop and start at the same time. What he did forget was how maddening it could be, the slow burn of glances and touches and before someone finally made a decisive move. Back before everything happened, he never had a problem making that move, but now, the fear of losing someone who already made him the happiest he’d been in years kept him rooted in place.

It was driving him crazy, especially when it came to hints in your touch: your hip gently nudging him to scooch farther down your lab table; your thigh grazing his as you sat side by side on the Maglev train; your palm swatting him on the shoulder as he made another comment that had you shaking your head but chuckling nonetheless. He savored each of these moments, no matter how seemingly insignificant, his longing for even further closeness with you becoming harder to ignore each time. So he experimented to see if maybe he really did have a shot at this, taking your hand in the middle of the crowded street, raising his voice so you could hear him over the chattering crowd and music echoing around the city:

“I’ll get lost otherwise.”

“You’re right,” you called back, smirking as your free hand gestured to the predominantly Wakandan crowd. “How would I ever find you amongst this sea of white men with bionic arms?”

You didn’t let go of his hand, though, and Bucky felt hope rise in his chest along with his heartbeat.

There was the day when you had made him promise to not let you leave the lab no matter what you said until you finished a new round of cross-referencing your updated personal data samples with the 500 something you had collected while getting your doctorate. But then it turned out that there was a music festival happening two blocks away from the lab, and how were you supposed to focus with the booming sounds of drums and the wafting aromas of roasted street fare, but Bucky wanted to mess with you a bit.

And so he stood between you and the door, trying his best to keep a straight face.

“You said, and I quote ‘Bucky do not let me leave this lab, no matter how much I beg, or plead, or––“

You waved your hands.

“That was old Y/N who was bright-eyed and full of caffeine and optimism. This is 7 p.m. current Y/N realizing that I will literally be here until 3 a.m., which I’ve already done twice this week. Current Y/N Y/N just needs to dance and eat some mandazi.”

“A promise is a promise! What if this was the very night when you were destined to be struck by genius with a breakthrough that changes the course of humanity, but I prevented that from happening by breaking my word.” Bucky shrugged, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Not chancing it.”

You sighed in feigned resignation.

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Bucky was thrown off for half a second but your concession, but then you were sprinting past him as best as you could sprint past a genetically enhanced soldier, your cackle turning into profanities choked by laughter as Bucky easily caught you, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Goddammit, Bucky!”

He was barely even holding you, so nervous about hurting you, but it was still enough to keep you locked in place as you struggled, both of you chuckling for a few more seconds before you gave up, going limp in his arms. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest, was close enough to breathe in the bright scent of your perfume.

“Guess I’ll die here.”

Your light tone then turned bitter on a dime, taking Bucky by surprise.

“I lied, I really don’t deserve to get out of here tonight, not when my dumbass has been stuck on the same problem for weeks, and everyone else in that lab has actually been able to do their fucking jobs.”

“Hey, Y/N, that’s not true.” Bucky broke his hold on you, turning you around to face him, watching as you shook your head, chewing at the corner of your lip as you averted your eyes.

“You’re one of the smartest people I know. And I see you, everyone sees you working your ass off in there. Give yourself a break.” He paused for a second before placing his hands on your shoulders, the action prompting you to bring your pained gaze back to meet his.

“You know I’m not actually holding you hostage, right?”

You had mustered a snort of laughter and nodded but still had that defeated look across your face, and Bucky’s instinct to care for you overshadowed his nerves. 

“C’mere.”

And he pulled you toward him and you immediately settled into his embrace, letting out a deep exhale as you burrowed your head in his chest, arms winding around his waist. And as much as he wanted to, he didn’t dare try to kiss you in the midst of your mini crisis, not knowing if you’d misinterpret it as only being given to try to make you feel better as opposed to showing you how deeply he felt about you.

“Thank you.” Your voice was muffled against him and you pulled back, sniffling but smiling. “Sorry I lost my cool there.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Come on, let’s get you some fresh air and some mandazi, you’ll feel better.”

“Good plan.” You both started walking down the hall, and Bucky could feel your stare burning through him, turning and seeing you giving him that look again.

“What?”

“Nothing ... just glad I met you.”

Even with that seemingly picture perfect moment, gnawing fear kept him from showing you right then and there how he really felt, settling instead on words that felt safer instead.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

He’s recalling all of these moments in his head, especially how he’s kicked himself after each one for not making a move. What was wrong with him? How long was he going to let fear dictate his life? The life he had fought for, the one he was still clawing his way out of the past for?

He’s jolted out of his reverie by the rumble of an engine in the distance, and his head snaps up to see trees rustling in the distance.

Even the sheep look startled.

“What the hell?”

And then he sees you come barreling out of the tree line in what looks like a military-grade hummer, except in a rich violet color, wearing sunglasses and a grin, the car’s speakers blaring that one Black Keys (Black Locks? He can never keep all the music you tell him straight) song he’s heard a few times in your lab, and he doesn’t know if he believes in a god, but damn, of all songs to be playing, it’s one hell of a cosmic coincidence that it’s this one.

“Woah, oh oh, I’ve got a love that keeps me hanging. 

I’m a lonely boy, I’m a lonely boy.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Bucky’s heart was beating fast, mind working overtime in a last-ditch attempt to dissuade him from stopping the chess match between you two and taking the chance he wanted to since practically the day you met. He’d been controlled for so long, shoved around with no agency, no say in what he could do.

But this, right here, right now, this was his life. And he didn’t want to waste more of it waiting, waste more of it hanging because of his own hesitation. He had the ability to make choices today, even when it seemed terrifying and vulnerable and could potentially end in disaster. Or, it could end in something fucking great. Something that made him feel happy, feel understood, feel alive.

Isn’t that all he really wanted?

And as you pull up near his hut, he makes a barely noticeable nod to himself. He’s made his decision. Today, instead of choosing fear, he was going to choose you.

[aww-writing-no]

For Winterhawk Week, Day 3

Ao3 Link

Bond: 

Clint looked up from the cash register at Strike Bean Delta when he heard the door open and a cacophony of voices filled the small shop. Things had been quiet this morning, but with the new recruits arriving at Camp Lehigh today he hadn’t expected it to stay that way for long. 

Sometimes Clint hated being right. 

A whole pack of rowdy young men in army fatigues jostled for space as they stared at the menu above Clint’s head. He was about to roll his eyes at their ridiculous posturing when he laid eyes on one of them and felt a sharp pang of - something. 

There was nothing particularly remarkable about him. Grey-blue eyes and brown hair cropped army regulation short, he looked the same as half the kids who came through here for training. Yet Clint felt an immediate bond. Not lust. Definitely not lust, but more like… an old, comfortable friendship. Which was ridiculous because they’d never met before. 

When grey-blue eyes came up to the counter to place his order - medium dark-roast with extra room for cream - he paused, hand in the air and blinking slowly as he went to hand Clint his money. He shook his head slightly before asking, “Have we met?” 

Clint took the money and counted back his change before replying, “I don’t think so”. 

He seemed as confused as Clint, but didn’t press it, walking away to let Clint take the next order. On his way out he stuffed a five dollar bill in the tip jar, which seemed to indicate something, though Clint had no idea what it could be. 

Like many of the new recruits, grey-blue eyes became a regular over the next few months. Strike Bean Delta was the closest coffeeshop to the base, and got a steady stream of business from army folk who quickly tired of whatever institutional swill they served in the mess hall. 

With time Clint learned his name was James, but he went by Bucky of all things. He learned that he was eighteen, fresh out of high school, and had enlisted with his best friend Steve. He had big plans for when he got out of the army, most of which involved going to school and getting some kind of advanced science degree. He took his coffee with a frankly obscene amount of cream and sugar, and had a penchant for apricot cheese danishes. 

Basically, he was nothing like Clint. 

Clint took his coffee black, and often straight from the pot when he wasn’t working. He wasn’t a big fan of pastry, possibly because only ate them when they were stale - two days old and unfit to sell to customers, even at a discount. Technically he was supposed to throw them out, but he wasn’t about to go wasting food that was still edible. 

Clint had dropped out of high school at sixteen and immediately started doing whatever it took to keep food on the table. You know, when he managed to find a place that actually had a table. He was living on the street and had started getting into some real shady shit when he’d been approached by a guy who did outreach for a youth shelter. Somehow between Nick and Phil and the other counselors at SHIELD (Shelter for Homeless something or other - Clint could never remember the full name) they managed to help him get his life back on track. They weren’t good tracks. They were rusty and uneven and usually full of giant splinters, but they were his tracks all the same. 

When Bucky told him he’d been assigned to a unit and would be shipping out the next day, Clint told him to stay safe and impulsively scrawled his phone number on the side of Bucky’s cup. Bucky stuffed a twenty dollar bill in the tip jar on his way out. 

Clint got a text from an unfamiliar number a couple weeks later. It had a picture of the most dilapidated coffeemaker Clint had ever seen, and looked like it had been set up on a stack of crates in some kind of tent. The text read “I’d kill for a cold brew right now. -Bucky”.  

Clint laughed and sent back a picture of the fruit danishes in the display case. 

“Fuck, I’d kill for those too,” was the reply. 

They’d been texting on and off for close to a year - mostly idle chatter and pictures of deserts and humvees (Bucky) or coffee and dogs (Clint) - when Clint woke up screaming in the middle of the night, feeling like his arm was on fire. 

“What’s going on with your arm?” Natasha asked him later that day. 

Clint shook out his arm for what felt like the millionth time, wishing the pins and needles feeling would go away. He really didn’t want to drop a pot of hot coffee on himself today. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he tried not to make a habit out of it. “I probably just slept on it wrong,” he told her. 

Weeks later, his arm was still giving him problems. 

“Go see a doctor; you probably have a pinched nerve,” Natasha told him. 

“A doctor? Who can afford that?” he asked. Health insurance was for people with Real Jobs. He worked at a coffee shop. Besides, he was more worried about the fact he’d sent Bucky a picture of the cutest samoyed he’d ever seen and Bucky still hadn’t responded. One time he’d sent back a picture of one of the bomb sniffer dogs, and Clint still wasn’t over the cuteness of the german shepherd in its little vest and goggles. Clint wasn’t too proud to admit he was hoping for a reprise. 

When Bucky stepped into Strike Bean Delta almost six months later, Clint wouldn’t have recognised him if he hadn’t felt that sharp pang of something when he walked in the door. 

Bucky was wearing civvies, long hair tied up in a messy half-bun, and a lot more shadows under his eyes than when he’d left. Most notably, though, was the distinct lack of a left arm. 

Clint’s own arm went numb at the sight, and the blender he was holding fell to the ground with a loud crash. Strawberry-banana smoothie coated his shoes and oozed slowly across the floor. 

“Aww, smoothie, no,” he whined, and a wet towel hit him in the face, courtesy of Natasha. 

Cleaning up the smoothie gave him plenty of time to try to sort through his feelings, because he was having a lot of them. Like, a LOT of them. By the time he finished cleaning up his mess, his feelings still weren’t sorted, but Bucky was sitting awkwardly at one of the tables with a coffee in front of him. 

“Talk to him,” Natasha said, forcing a plate with an apricot cheese danish into his hands. “Don’t drop it,” she added a second later. 

“But Nat,” he whined, sneaking a glance at Bucky who was staring into his coffee like it held the secrets of the universe. 

“Talk. To. Him,” she repeated, turning Clint around by the shoulders and giving him a literal shove in the right direction. 

“Uhh, I’m glad you’re back,” Clint said, sliding the plate in front of Bucky and taking the seat across from him. He nodded at the missing arm. “I’m guessing that’s why I stopped getting pictures of cute dogs in uniform?” 

Bucky looked surprised, then let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Doctors tend to frown on having animals in the ICU,” he said. “Didn’t think you’d be interested in pictures of cups of jello.” 

Clint smiled, nervousness relaxing into a feeling of ease he seldom felt with other people. He rubbed his left arm unconsciously, telling Bucky, “You’d be surprised.” 

That got another laugh out of him and Bucky’s shoulders relaxed as he reached over to take a bite out of the danish. “Oh man, I’ve wanted this for so long” he said, tipping his head back and closing his eyes briefly. “You do not know how many nights I dreamed about coming back here just to eat one of these things.” 

Clint remembered all the times he’d had an unexpected pastry craving over the past few months and thought that maybe he did. 

“Who are you?” he asked abruptly. As soon as the words left his mouth Clint realized how crazy he must sound, but judging by the look Bucky leveled at him, he knew exactly what Clint was asking. 

Bucky took another bite out of the danish and chewed slowly, looking Clint over as if he didn’t know quite what to do with him. “I suppose I could ask you the same question,” he drawled as he finished chewing. “Who’s the mysterious barista that keeps showing up in my dreams?” 

“You dream about me?” Clint asked. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

Clint shook his head. “No, not really. I just get these… I dunno, feelings? I don’t know how to explain it. I’m pretty sure I felt when you lost your arm.” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Bucky said, clearly startled. “That’s- that’s so messed up. I’m really sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Clint said with a shrug. It wasn’t like he had any control over it - like either of them had any control over whatever the heck this was. “Still doesn’t answer my question, though.” 

“Last week I dreamt you lost your keys. You thought you’d dropped them on the subway and you had to have the neighbor let you in,” he told Clint, eyes seemingly focused somewhere past Clint’s left ear. “Last month I dreamt you were at a gun range, except you were hitting the targets using a bow and arrows. Last year when I was deployed I dreamt about you making coffee more times than I could count. One time you were making it while wearing a crocodile costume. I thought I was just missing home, but now? I don’t know.” 

Clint put his head in his hands as Bucky continued to stare off into space. He should probably be getting back to work soon, but this was too weird for words. He’d definitely done all of those things in real life. “It wasn’t a crocodile costume,” he said finally, at a loss for anything better to say. “It was Abigail the Alligator, the mascot for the sporting goods shop I buy my arrows from. They booked a coffee service for a special event, and they offered me a bonus for wearing the costume.”

Bond, Part II: Here

[reading-writing-revolution]

Just not #DonaldTrump...

December 26, 2019 (Thursday) - Heather Cox Richardson

Today began and ended with Trump melting down. This morning, after a silence during the holidays, he came out swinging at the Democrats generally, and at House Speaker Nancy Pelosi specifically. Then this evening, apparently against the advice of his lawyer, he retweeted a story that named someone claimed to be the whistleblower, a person who currently has a security detail for protection, not in a foreign war zone, but in our own nation’s capital.

It seems clear that Trump cannot bear that Pelosi—whom he is calling “Crazy Nancy”-- is not rushing to send the articles of impeachment over to the Senate for a trial… a trial that Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell has already promised will exonerate Trump. It is worth noting that it has been only a week since the House passed the articles of impeachment, and we have had major religious holidays in that time, and yet Trump is obviously angry and desperate for movement on impeachment. But he’s got to wait even longer. The House will not be in session again until January 7—twelve days from now—and the Senate calendar for January is still in flux.

In other impeachment news, you will recall that Noah Feldman, the Harvard Law Professor who testified before the House Judiciary Committee in favor of impeachment, wrote an op-ed last week saying that Trump was not officially impeached until the House sent the articles of impeachment over to the Senate. Trump jumped on this idea, and has been saying that he is not really impeached. Today one of the other law professors who testified, George Washington University’s Jonathan Turley, who was called by the Republicans and was opposed to impeachment, wrote an op-ed in the Washington Post entitled “I testified against Trump’s impeachment. But let’s not pretend it didn’t happen.” The title pretty much sums it up. As Turley concluded: “The House speaks in its own voice and in its own time. It did so on Dec. 18, 2019.”

For all the drama of these two stories, I have been more interested in what feels to me like a changing trend: it appears that media is finally recognizing that it cannot simply report “both sides” of the news as if they are equally valid when one side is lying. On the evening of December 24, Rolling Stone magazine published a short interview with Chuck Todd, an NBC journalist who moderates Meet the Press and who is the Political Director for NBC NEWS. On December 29, Meet the Press is doing a show on disinformation and how it is weaponized, and this interview was a teaser.

It's really important to understand that “misinformation” and “disinformation” are different things. “Misinformation” is bad information caused by errors-- someone makes a mistake. “Disinformation,” though, is deliberately false information intended to manipulate public opinion. Another word for disinformation is propaganda.

In the interview, Todd laments that he has been “absurdly naïve.” Right up until he had Senator Cruz on his show recently and Cruz echoed Russian propaganda, Todd apparently believed that the Republicans were acting in good faith when they talked to the media. Todd says he was “stunned” by Cruz’s embrace of Russian disinformation, especially since he was the third senator to do exactly that on the show. Cruz had asked to come on, and Todd thought that since Cruz had always been a Russia hawk, he wanted to set the record straight. When, instead, he followed the party line, Todd finally got it: Trump Republicans are using the media to spread propaganda.

Jay Rosen, a professor of journalism at New York University, responded to this revelation by pointing out that it was on Todd’s own show in January 2017 that Trump advisor Kellyanne Conway launched the concept of the administrations lies simply being based on “alternative facts.” But, Rosen writes, media leaders nonetheless treated officials’ lies as hyperbole, just Trump and his spokespeople being ridiculous.

The upshot is that, three years later, Trump’s base is divorced from reality, while other Americans are so tired from incessant gas lighting we have lost faith that we can still perceive reality. This is why gaslighting is effective propaganda: having lost confidence in their own perceptions, people are so eager for peace they are willing to accept a strong leader who will promise to create stability.

I’m with Rosen on this. There is no excuse for such “naivete” on Todd’s part. He’s the Political Director for NBC News, after all, and should have had a better handle on the well-known methods at play here.

Even more, it has been very clear that today’s Republican Party has risen to power by rejecting facts and creating its own reality. After World War Two, Republicans and Democrats both shared a belief that the government had a role to play in regulating the economy, providing a basic social safety net, and promoting infrastructure. Indeed, that belief about government was so widely embraced it became known as the “liberal consensus.”

In 1951, William F. Buckley, Jr., fresh out of college, wrote a book attacking that consensus by attacking fact-based argument. In God and Man at Yale: The Superstitions of “Academic Freedom,” Buckley said that trying to reach the truth by constructing arguments out of facts—the premise of the Enlightenment-- was a worse superstition than the Dark Age traditions the Enlightenment tried to root out. When presented with fact-based arguments, voters kept choosing the liberal consensus. So far as Buckley was concerned, that consensus flew in the face of God’s laws. So, Buckley concluded, it was imperative to stop arguing based on facts, and simply promote a “Conservative” view of the world by whatever means necessary.

The construction of a narrative undercutting the popular liberal consensus took the modern Republican Party further and further away from a fact-based reality, until by 2002, journalist Ron Suskind had this extraordinary exchange with one of President George W. Bush’s aides.

"The aide said that guys like me were 'in what we call the reality-based community,' which he defined as people who 'believe that solutions emerge from your judicious study of discernible reality.' I nodded and murmured something about enlightenment principles…. He cut me off. 'That’s not the way the world really works anymore,” he continued. '…When we act, we create our own reality…. We’re history’s actors… and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do.'”

Ten years later, in 2012, Thomas E. Mann from the left-leaning Brookings Institution and Norm Ornstein from the right-leaning American Enterprise Institute warned that it was imperative to stop saying “both sides do it,” because the parties were not equally polarized. “The GOP has become an insurgent outlier in American politics,” they wrote. “It is ideologically extreme; scornful of compromise; unmoved by conventional understanding of facts, evidence and science; and dismissive of the legitimacy of its political opposition.”

We now have a president who has made more than 15,000 false or misleading claims in fewer than three years in office, and it has become increasingly clear recently that those lies echo Russian propaganda. Senior officials repeat his claims to the media, creating their own reality.

It is my sense that Todd’s revelation is a sign that media figures are starting to see how they are being used to advance disinformation. There has been discussion emerging of how to report the news without providing a platform for lies. If it takes hold, there will be an important shift in media coverage of the administration and congressional supporters in the new year."

[kellanved-ammanas]

Space Mercenaries AU: Meet the Crew

This is my 100th fic on Ao3 (I have no idea what number it is on tumblr though because I don’t remember exactly when I started uploading my fics to tumblr) and it’s my first official foray into writing my own AU, something I’ve wanted to do for a long while now. As I’m sure you can guess by the title, it’s basically a space pirate AU except they’re mercenaries instead of pirates. It’s really just a basic introduction to the setting.

The spaceship was huge, bigger than Scout had thought it’d be. The logo for the company that owned it, RED, was on the side big enough to be seen from a distance. According to Miss Pauling – the lovely lady who was now Scout’s immediate superior – the rumors floating around that it originated from Earth were true. Having lived his whole life on a colony far-far away from Earth meant Scout had never met anyone from there. Making this new job even more exciting then it had been already.

Pauling had told him to just hop on board, store his belongings in his new room and then introduce himself to everyone. Easy-peasy except for the fact that he didn’t know how to board it. All his experience with spaceships had been the small pilotable kind – he was the best pilot on this planet and everyone knew it, it’s why he’d been hired.

Hiding his nervousness with practiced ease, he strode right up to it, ignoring everyone else milling around the dock pretending not to look at the biggest spaceship to ever grace this out of the way planet. Luckily the entrance wasn’t hard to find, a ramp led right up to it so he only embarrassed himself a little bit when he started circling the ship before quickly finding it. He held his ID up to the scanner next to it as he’d been instructed to do. Hopefully he was doing this right. It beeped after a few seconds and the doors opened with a nice slick sound straight out of a science fiction movie.

“Cool,” he said under he breath as he slid his ID back in his pocket.

This was really happening though, he was officially a hired mercenary. He could finally leave home and be independent, sort of anyway, there’d still be his team and his employers but they weren’t his mom or his brothers. Maybe he’d even find his dad one day. … Not likely, the universe was far too big for that to have any more than a snowball’s chance in hell of happening, but a nice thought nonetheless. If Scout did find him though he didn’t know what he’d do, hug him or punch him for leaving – perhaps both – so it was probably for the best anyway.

He took a deep breath, adjusting the weight of the bag on his shoulder – filled with all his worldly belongings, there weren’t many of them – as he stepped in. Hopefully he didn’t look as much like a wide-eyed recruit as he felt. He needed to be cool and suave, like this wasn’t his first time being hired on as a proper mercenary.

Inside was cool and filled with the soft hum of machines that seemed to come from everywhere. He was in a hallway that led to an entrance hall? It was a spacy room with lots of passages leading off it.

“Hey fresh meat!” The shout was loud enough to echo, filling the room and making Scout flinch and jump back.

The shouter, who was a black man wearing an eyepatch apparently thought that was hilarious. He was laughing it up as he exited out of one the hallways, walking with a slight sway as if he were slightly intoxicated. The brown bottle in his hand supported that hypothesis. “Sorry mate,” didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his chuckles dying off as he reached Scout. “You can call me ‘Demo’ or ‘Demoman’, I blow shit up.” He held out his hand, offering to shake.

Scout frowned at him, unsure if he should be offended about being laughed at. He was a bit jumpy sometimes, it wasn’t his fault and it certainly wasn’t funny. He wasn’t going to start off his new job with being upset with his teammates if he could help it though so he shook Demo’s hand.

“I’m Scout,” he said, puffing out his chest. He liked that he was allowed to use a nickname here, it separated this even further from his old life. And according to Miss Pauling everyone else was doing it too so it was only natural. “I fly ships and run really fast and kill people.” He’d never killed anyone before but that was what he was being hired to do, right? Part of it anyway. So he better pretend it was no big deal. “I’m the best at it.”

“You talk real tough small fry, I like it,” Demo said. Good, Scout had already impressed him. … The ‘small fry’ comment wasn’t great though, but he’d take what he could get right now. “Want me to show you around, introduce you to everyone?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve been aboard ships like this before, I can find my way around no problem.”

“Whatever you say mate, if you change your mind though I’ll be in the kitchen.” He took a chug from his bottle before starting to head for one of the hallways. “See you around.”

“Yep, see you around pal,” Scout returned with confidence.

So far, so good. His first meeting with one of his teammates had gone well, seven more to go. First, he had to find his room though to drop his stuff off. It couldn’t be that hard to navigate this place, could it?

 -

Scout was lost. He didn’t want to admit it but he was. Everything looked the same and the ship seemed to take full advantage of its massive size to cram as many corridors and rooms into itself as physically possible. There were a ton of locked rooms, presumably leading to important places he didn’t have the clearance to access yet, they cut off his options for places to go but the dead ends were frustrating.

There were signposts, pointing this way and that way but… none of them pointed towards the sleeping quarters. There were several that pointed to the kitchen but Scout couldn’t go there and ask Demo for that tour after all. That would be both admitting defeat and that he’d lied about being able to find his way around on his own, both were unacceptable.

He’d brute force his way through this. If he just kept going he’d find it eventually. … It’d be nice to have a map though, even if he wasn’t good at reading them it’d help a little probably.

He turned a corner and almost ran into somebody. A very odd somebody who wore a full body suit and mask, making it impossible to see his face. The empty gaze of his mask was… vaguely intimidating, making Scout take a step back before he could stop himself.

The fellow waved, wriggling his fingers. He then made gestures with his hands; sign language. Scout had seen it enough times to recognize it but he’d never learned it himself, it hadn’t ever occurred to him that he might need it one day.

“Uh… I don’t understand,” he said. Was the guy deaf? Could he understand Scout? Was it rude to ask? Would they have to communicate via writing? That would be fine but for the fact Scout’s dyslexia made it hard to read and write properly most of the time, he didn’t want to reveal that to people he’d just met and needed to impress, they’d think he was an idiot.

The guy seemed to sigh without actually sighing? His shoulders slumped as he hung his head, giving it a light shake. That meant he could understand Scout though, right? He was reacting to what had been said.

“I’m Scout, I’m the new guy.” Ugh, why’d he have to state the obvious? “Uh… do you think you could show me the way the sleeping quarters or whatever?” This guy didn’t know Scout had claimed he’d be fine on his own here so asking for help from him was fine, right? Then again, asking a mysterious masked figure for directions might not be a wise move. He was part of the crew though, right? So, it’d be fine… probably. If not, Scout had a gun and he knew how to use it, he could defend himself.

The fellow nodded, giving him a thumbs up. He then gestured for Scout to follow him and started skipping down the way he’d come. With no better options present, Scout followed.

Turns out they were two turns away from the sleeping quarters. See? Scout would’ve totally found it on his own, he hadn’t needed to ask this guy for directions and thus it didn’t count that he had.

Only one of the rooms was open at the end of the hall, the ninth one according to Scout’s count. The masked fellow led Scout right too it and tapped the wall by it. He then pointed out Scout and then gave him a thumbs up.

“Thanks,” Scout said. “But uh… there’s only eight other people?” He’d asked and been told that he was the final member of the team and thus he’d expected more people. Maybe there was another hallway?

But the masked guy nodded, giving Scout another thumbs up, indicating that that was correct. There were only nine people on this team. On the bright side that meant meeting them all wouldn’t take too long. First he had to settle into his new room though.

“Thanks uh… see you around buddy,” he told the masked dude – he’d have to get his name from one of the other crew members later – earning another thumbs up before stepping into the room. He pressed the button on the wall to close the door behind him.

It was a fairly small room but there was a bed, desk, and closet. There was more storage space under the bed too. It was his very own room, he didn’t have to share it with anyone. And his mom wouldn’t be around to yell at him about cleaning it every time even a tiny mess started to form. He was free and independent, life was great.

 -

Scout took his time arranging all his stuff. There wasn’t much so it didn’t take long. It was exciting though, having a room all to himself. He didn’t have worry about people walking in on him when he was changing or doing private things. Or about people messing with his stuff, he could lock the door when he wasn’t in here and no one else could get in.

He almost didn’t want to leave but… he needed – and wanted – to meet the rest of the crew. Solitude for too long would undoubtedly drive him crazy, already he was craving someone to talk to about how awesome this all was. So it wasn’t long before he was stepping out into the hallway again.

There was of course still the problem that he didn’t know where he was going and would probably get lost. But it was a spaceship meant for living and mercenary work, not a maze, so he could figure out its layout… eventually. For now, he could just walk until he ran into someone else, hopefully someone who could better communicate with him and had a face.

As if the thought had summoned him, someone came around the corner as Scout started heading towards it. He wore goggles and a hardhat. “Howdy partner,” he said with a friendly wave. “Pyro told me we had a new guy, so I figured I’d come say ‘hi’ since I’m having a coffee break anyway. You can call me ‘Engie’ or ‘Engineer’, whichever you prefer.”

“Uh… howdy partner?” Scout had never heard a greeting like that before. “I’m Scout. Who’s Pyro? The guy with the mask?”

“Yep, he likes fire so we call him ‘Pyro’. He either don’t like talking or can’t so he speaks in sign instead. Don’t worry though he can hear just fine so you can talk to him normal like.”

“Does he wear the mask and suit thing all the time?” Probably not, right? That would be silly.

“Far as I know yeah. I assume he takes it off to eat and bathe but that’s about it. You can ask him why but he won’t answer and might get upset if you do.”

“All right.” That was weird but… Scout didn’t sign on here expecting everything to be normal and predictable. He was here for excitement and adventure, weird team mates with bizarre habits wasn’t too far out of the realm of expectation. And it was something he could easily live with. “Can you uh… lead me to the kitchen please? Since you’re headed there for coffee anyway.” He could use a snack and if Demo was still there he might take him up on the tour offer after all because he’d undoubtedly get lost again if he didn’t. His excuse could be that he didn’t know where the rest of the team were supposed to be.

“Sure can,” Engie replied. “Follow me.”

Unable to keep quiet while in such a cool place, Scout chatted about it as they walked. In the back of his mind he kept track of where they turned so he could potentially find his way back or make this journey again on his own. His sense of direction was a bit thrown off by how similar the walls all were but now that he was actively trying to remember the way he should have a better time with it.

The kitchen turned out to be nearby, not even a five minute walk. It was big and high tech, Scout wasn’t sure what half the things in here were. It was empty though, Demo wasn’t here. But luckily the fridge was easy to identify and thus Scout didn’t have to embarrass himself by asking.

Inside was various stuff, mostly veggies and fruits, a lot of which he’d never seen before. There was what could only be beer at the bottom in bottles identical to the one Demo had been holding. Water bottles were on the shelf above. There was no soda though, bummer.

“You want coffee boy?” Engie asked. He was off to the side messing with the coffee pot, it was clearly fancy and high tech. Or… high tech compared to what Scout was used to it, it was possible his experience with such things was outdated and this was now the standard.

“No thanks.” Scout couldn’t stand coffee unless it was loaded up with sweeteners and cream, even then though he’d prefer not to drink it. Since he also didn’t want to drink beer – the last thing he wanted to do was get drunk on his first day and embarrass himself in front of his new coworkers – that left him no choice but to drink water. Lame but he probably needed to drink more water anyway.

So after some thought he decided on an apple and a bottle of water. He could experiment with the alien fruits later – not the veggies though, fuck vegetables – and search the cupboards for junk food. For now though he’d play it safe and simple.

“Come out to the dining room,” Engie said, holding his cup of coffee. “There’s bound to be more of the team there for you to meet.”

“Okay.” Scout followed him out of the kitchen through a different door than they’d entered through.

It led straight to the dining room. It was big with a large table in the middle which four people sat at playing cards. Two of them Scout had already met, Demo and Pyro. The other two were a big guy who looked like he could snap Scout in half with his bare hands and a skinny guy in a fancy suit and ski mask. All four looked up as Scout and Engie entered.

“Hey,” Demo greeted with a smile and a handwave. He was drinking still. Pyro waved too, wriggling his fingers.

“Hi again,” Scout said, unable to take his eyes off suit and mask guy. He didn’t want to be rude and stare but… the guy was staring at him, frozen. What his expression might be under the mask was hard to say but his gaze was intense enough to make Scout very uncomfortable. Was he planning on murder or something? “I’m Scout,” he said with a forced smile to the other two, not letting his discomfort show. “Nice to meet you.”

“Heavy,” the big guy said. “Is nice to meet you too.”

Suit and mask guy huffed as he seemed to break out of whatever had frozen him in place, finally pulling his intense stare off of Scout. “I have places to be,” he said, his tone very prim and proper as he placed his cards down on the table and stood up. He then turned around and left, no greeting or anything. Rude.

“That’s Spy,” Engie said. “He… ain’t normally like that.”

“Eh, who knows what’s up with him, he’s a weirdo,” Demo said with a shrug before taking a drink from his bottle. “Come join us, we was in the middle of a game.”

They sat at the table, Engie taking over Spy’s cards. What had Scout done to make Spy already dislike him? Had it been the way he’d said ‘hi’? Maybe the way he was dressed? Something else? Could he fix it? … Probably not, once people started disliking him, that feeling only ever grew.

“You play poker?” Heavy asked, clearly the dealer for this game.

“Uh… sometimes.” Scout wasn’t good at it but did know how to play.

“Good, you join next round. Is good way to get to know each other.”

“Okay.” It’s not like Scout had anything better to do.

“You got lost after all though, huh?” Demo said, chuckling and raising and eyebrow at Scout.

“No, of course not,” Scout lied with a scoff as if that were ridiculous.

Pyro tapped the table and signed something that made Demo laugh. Were they… making fun of Scout? It wasn’t a mocking kind of laugh though but like he was tipsy and giggling because of it.

“You don’t have to lie,” Engie said. “We all got lost when we were new too, you’ll be able to find your way around in no time.”

“Yeah and you’ll get fucking sick of it in no time too,” Demo added. “This ship actually ain’t so big once you been living in it for a while. It’ll drive you mad.”

“Is not so bad,” Heavy cut in. “And once we reach destination we’ll be let off sometimes.”

“What is our destination by the way?” That hadn’t been in any of the advertisements for the job and he’d been too excited about the whole thing to ask during interview or screening process.

“Some solar system somewhere that our boss what’s us to take control of,” Demo said. “Apparently his brother or something also wants it so we’re going to be fighting his hired mercenaries for it, it’s some weird family feud thing.”

“There’s more to it than that but that about sums it up,” Engie said. Scout didn’t care about the details anyway as long as he got paid and got to go on an adventure in the far off reaches of space.

 -

“Ah fuck it, I quit.” Demo threw down his cards in frustration after Engie won for the umpteenth time in a row. “Come on Scouty boy, I’ll show you around and introduce you to the others.” His words were slurred and he was unsteady on his feet as he stood.

“Uh… you sure you’re up for that?” Scout asked. The last thing he wanted was for Demo to pass out and Scout to have to carry him when he wasn’t sure where he was going.

“Yes, now you coming or not laddie?”

“Go with him,” Engie said, also standing. “He’ll be fine but don’t take anything mean he says to heart, he doesn’t mean it. I’d go with you but I need to get back to work, see y’all later.” He gave them a wave before leaving through a side door.

“Yes, I also have work to get back too,” Heavy said as he gathered up the cards, stacking them into a nice, neat pile.

Pyro signed something to Demo who replied with “Yeah, you can come too.” Which got a clap from Pyro

With no other options readily available to him, Scout followed the two of them out. It was better than getting lost again. And well, so far he liked his new team mates, except for Spy because Spy didn’t like him. Hopefully whatever reason Spy had for disliking him wouldn’t get in the way of any teamwork that might be required of them in the future.

 -

“Soldier’s loud and shouty sometimes but he’s a super cool guy once you get to know him,” Demo spoke in a low tone to Scout after halting outside the door labeled ‘REC ROOM’. “And don’t be offended when he calls you ‘maggot’, he means it in the kindest way possible.”

“How can calling someone ‘maggot’ be meant in kind way?” Scout asked but was ignored as Demo turned away to open the door, letting three of them in.

It was an exercise room, full of exercise stuff. Scout was not interested unless there was a track he could run around on in another room or maybe a swimming pool. Off to the side was a guy, presumably Solider, doing one armed pushups. He was counting them out loud too.

“Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five.” He swapped to using his other arm.

“Hey Solider,” Demo called. “The new guy finally came, come meet him.”

Solider paused before snapping up to his feet and coming over to investigate. He looked Scout up and down as if measuring his worth.

“Hey,” Scout said, trying not to shift uncomfortably under his gaze. “You can call me ‘Scout’, I’m…”

“I’ll call you whatever I like maggot,” Solider interrupted.

“Don’t listen to him,” Demo said before Scout could object to the insult. “Solly, this is Scout, he’s the new guy, be nice.”

“Fine,” Solider said as if he were granting a favor. “Nice to meet you maggot, I’m sure you’ll make and excellent addition to the team.” He shook Scout’s hand, almost crushing it in a way too tight grip.

“Nice to meet you too.” Scout bore it with a grin, not even flinching a little bit. The way Solider nodded upon letting go implied he approved of that. Good, the more people Scout could get on the good side of early, the better. He even managed to resist the urge to clutch his aching hand to his chest afterward.

“You know where Sniper is?” Demo asked. “I’m going around introducing him to everyone and showing him around and all that. Pyro’s helping.” He gestured to Pyro before taking a drink from his bottle. Pyro wriggled in his fingers in greeting towards Solider.

Soldier thought about it for a few seconds, Scout could practically see the gears turning in his head as if it were a difficult question. “No, I do not know where Sniper is,” he said finally, looking back up.

“All right, we’ll find him eventually.”

Solider saluted. Demo returned it half-assed while Pyro returned it fully. Not knowing what else to do Scout followed their lead, getting another nod of approval from Solider. Weird but whatever.

Unexpectedly, Solider joined their tour party when they moved on. He took up the rear. His rigid stance implied he was on the look out for possible trouble as if they were on traversing through a dangerous area instead of their own ship base. Odd but not worth questioning, it was clear Solider was an odd fellow anyway.

 -

Turns out there as a pool room but no track room. They were expected to get their running exercise on the treadmills, lame. Scout would rather jog around the ship’s halls even if that meant getting lost sometimes.

The next important place Demo led Scout – and company – to was the captain’s deck. It was where all the computers that ran the ship were located. They were far more complicated and high-tech than anything Scout had seen before. He wanted to touch them and mess around with them, see if he could figure out how to maneuver this thing but… alas, that would probably end with him getting fired. Maybe one day though… hopefully anyway.

After that Demo brought them to his work station where he made bombs and other things that exploded. And then Engie’s lab where Engie was currently working on something that Scout couldn’t even begin to guess the function of due to how its part were all laid out on the work table.

“Howdy,” he said, preoccupied and not even looking up from his work. “I’m a bit busy right now so I’m going to have to ask you leave.”

“Righty-ho, see you around,” Demo said before moving the party on.

They finally found this Sniper guy in the shooting range. He was kind of hot, tall and rugged looking with a cool hat. Would Scout get in trouble for flirting with a coworker? Maybe so it was best he didn’t, for now anyway.

“Hey Sniper, the final member of our team is here, come say ‘hi’,” Demo said.

Sniper lowered his gun and turned his head towards them. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Scout returned with a cocky grin. “I’m Scout, ace pilot and fastest runner in the galaxy.”

“I’m sure you are,” Sniper said dryly before turning back to his target practice.

“And that’s that,” Demo said with a chuckle, clapping his hands together. He leaned over to speak in Scout’s ear. “He’s one of them loner types, don’t like people much. But he’s cool… I think, haven’t really known him that long.”

“I can still hear you,” Sniper said, not looking away from his target practice.

“Whatever.” Demo shrugged. “Let’s go laddie, I think all that’s left to show you is the med-bay and introduce you to Medic.” He gestured for Scout follow him. A bit disappointed, Scout did so, hopefully he could talk to Sniper more later and hopefully get a chance to impress him.

“Be sure to make the target dummies pay dearly for their crimes,” Soldier said as he exited the room last behind Pyro. If Sniper responded in some way, it wasn’t loud enough for Scout to hear.

 -

Everything about the med-bay from the moment they stepped in screamed

‘hospital’ and thus Scout instantly disliked it. Hospitals and doctors were the worst. It even smelled like a hospital, that unique unplaceable smell that brought to mind nothing but needles and freezing stethoscopes.

What was even worse though was the crazed look in the doctor’s eyes when he came out to greet them. “Ooh, a new patient, wonderful,” he said, sounding as if he were talking about a new toy he was excited to play with.

“Hello,” Scout said, pretending to not be afraid. The last thing he wanted was everyone to make fun of him for being scared of something as dumb as doctors and hospitals. Glancing back, he saw that Solider had mysteriously vanished from the party, maybe he didn’t like hospitals either. “I’m Scout.”

“’Medic’ or ‘Doctor’ is fine. Now you two shoo.” He made a shooing gesture with his hand towards Demo and Pyro. “It’s time I give Scout his physical.”

“Good luck lad.” Demo clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t die.” Pyro signed something at him before they both left, leaving Scout alone with Medic. He was tempted to protest that but it was too late and he didn’t want show fear. So instead, he followed Medic as he gestured him deeper in.

 -

The physical was fairly standard fair. Medic took his blood pressure, checked his breathing and heartrate, all that ‘fun’ stuff. When the needle came out though was when Scout’s nerves broke.

“Nope, not happening,” he said, sliding off the examination table. “We are done here.” He started for the door.

Medic grabbed his upper arm, yanking him back. “You can either cooperate or I’ll have to force you.” He sounded like he meant it.

Scout jerked against his hold but he was stronger than he looked; Scout wouldn’t be getting away from him anytime soon. “Fine, fine, I’ll cooperate.” He’d much rather do that than test to see if and how Medic would force him to. “Just make it fast please.”

“Good.” Medic pulled him back the examination table, not taking any chances unfortunately.

Thankfully it was over fast, though still far too long for Scout’s liking. He was careful not to look at it. “Can I go now please?” he asked once Medic was done putting a little bandage on his arm.

“Yes, you may go for now.” Medic made a dismissive hand gesture. “There are more things I’ll need to do with you later though.”

Scout did not like that sound of that. “Like what?”

“If I told you, you’d be very upset so I won’t. You’ll be fine though I promise… probably. Death is always a possibility, so is infection, but it’s unlikely, kind of. Run along for now though, I need some time to analyze your blood sample.”

Scout groaned and retreated. He was not looking forward to whatever Medic had planned for him later but at least he was done now and could leave the horrid med-bay.

He went to his back to his room and only got a little lost on the way there. See? His sense of direction in this place was improving already.

He gratefully collapsed onto his bed with a sigh. He’d met everyone and seen everything, he could rest for a bit. For the most part he was pleased, Medic was scary and so was Pyro in a different way but less so, and Spy didn’t like him for some reason. Everyone else seemed cool and nice though even if a lot of them were a bit strange. But that would only make this adventure more fun though, right?

They’d be going off to a far off distant solar system – it might not actually be distant, he didn’t know – to fight over it and hopefully take it over. It was going to be fun.

Next

[freakyfeline]

Through my eyes

 I am particularly happy with this prompt so I decided to share it here. Also I’ve been wanting to write a Sci-Fi AU for ages, and finally here it is.

****

Title; Through my eyes

Fandom: Yuri on Ice Type; science fiction AU Characters; Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri Katsuki, Yakov Feltsman. Summery; Yuuri Katsuki had just graduated and moves to Tokyo in order to find a job at a national Robotics company, but after a few setbacks he ends up becoming apprentice to one of the most well-known engineers of the field; Viktor Nikiforov. It all seemed to good to be true until he discovered a secret that will shake the very fabric of his reality and existence.

*****

A traveller come all the way from the small town of the northern regions to the heart of the country; Tokyo. The city was as urban and metropolitan as one can imagine, with its towering edifices and large advertisements screening on a loop. The streets were clean, owing to the low-level robotic machines which were left autonomous to tend to the public service. Hologram screens appear in front of restaurants and shops to mark the opening and closing time.

Another wonderful feature about the city is the people. There was a woman in smart dress as she walked to her car while her servant-robot followed her in tow burdened by her grocery bags. Servant-robots were commonly used for those who could afford them, and they would perform the daily domestic chores. They were the closest to a humanoid shape, however they could not be endowed with artificial intelligence due to the law conventions made by the board of the technological development and science committee.  However there was an increase of percentage among the population who had prosthetics and despite of the fact that even these alterations were heavily restricted; the boundaries between robotics and humanity seem to be decreasing at an alarming rate.

Tokyo became one of the leading countries in technological development of Robotics and so a hub of people from all over the world were here trying to take part in the great movement, and Yuuri was one of the many. Yuuri Katsuki was a twenty-four years old and a fresh post graduate who was ready to kick-start his career. The RPC was the leading organisation that specializes in making robotics and it was because the Japanese post-graduate received an invitation of an interview that led him to leave his hometown and travel to the capital. However, he was too nervous and unconfident during the interview and he ended up not being chosen for the job. It was as though life was mocking him for aiming up so high.

Such a great opportunity seemed one that could never come again, so he was quite shocked and surprised when he received a video call from one of the most influential engineers in Robotics, Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri was sitting on a balcony; smoking a cigarette and thinking whether he should ditch yet another pointless interview, when an autonomous voice interrupted his thoughts. Reluctantly he walked to the living room and pressed on the giant touch screen, when a hologram panel popped up and Viktor appeared on screen. It was hard to imagine the confusion that Yuuri felt by this strange turn of events, especially by the fact that the man who had been an inspiration to him his whole life had just offered him a job as an assistant.

Viktor worked at the RPC Company as he was one of the most important key factors of this technology. The company is a manufacture of robots that can perform mundane, dangerous or undesirable duties; from house-keeping to building constructions and waste management. The Russian scientist worked on researching and developing new technologies as well as improving existing ones, but all that bulkhead of research was reserved only to the company. In fact RPC had strict policies on keeping all of its information from leaking out, so Viktor could not even work these projects outside the company’s complex. However the silver haired man had other personal projects that he wanted to work on, and Yuuri was assigned to assist him in this job.

The Russian scientist was greatly interested in neurology, in fact he had a degree in medicine and continued specializing for a diploma, but somehow he turned the page to engineering. It was a mystery as to why he made such a sudden change, but from this experienced he developed an interest in a chimera of engineering and medicine. He was no longer interested in manufacturing machines that served to replace undesirable jobs, but also to use his talents for other departments that would have bigger impact on people’s lives. His initial interest was in working on neurological diseases however there was an article about Viktor that questioned his reasons for suspiciously and abruptly leaving St Petersburg and moved to Japan. Yuuri was no med student; he studied biology but his major interest was engineering, so he was initially unsure of how he was able to be any help. Luckily it turned out that he was more straight-forward than he thought; mostly involving in sorting the data of Viktor’s research in coherent and systematic way, filing and doing reports. It was a long way from becoming a full-fledged engineer, but it was definitely a good start.

Yuuri was sitting in the small office/laboratory room of his boss’s apartment. He was observing a machinery prototype which would be worn by the leg to machinery. The function of this prototype was to help children with cerebral palsy to be able to walk straight. His job was to test it by touching one of the fibres and observe how long it takes to react. The aim of the experiment is to mark the delay between the contact and reaction. At first everything was going smoothly as he tested and marked the timing down on the journal, however without warning, there was a wild electrical spark coming out of the prototype and it exploded, making Yuuri fall off his chair. With the shock, the Japanese apprentice trembled all over feeling the electricity running through him. He tried to call out but he could hardly speak, so with little strength that he had he tried to get up, but he was too weak. In the semi-conscious state he was, he looked at his arms which were blackened, but even more terrifying thing was that he saw bits of metal under his skin and his hands too had skin scraped off and exposing a grey second layer. Before he could process this strange effect, his world became black and he lost his consciousness.

***

The white curtains bellowed and flapped with the white breeze.  Its sound awakened him to an unfamiliar white room which was sterile and clean. Yuuri found himself bandaged and tended; and felt level of warmth and comfort by the fact that the older man took care of him. However that pleasant thought was interrupted by a memory which came back with a flashing vengeance.

He remembered the metal under his skin, and he felt a terrible thread looming over his body like a death sentence. With a kind of fervent panic, Yuuri started removing the bandages and gauze, exposing the burned and blistering flesh. No matter how much he stretched his skin between his fingers to find that metalled layer, he found none. Viktor nearly shrieked when he walked in and saw Yuuri exposing his injuries like that. He quickly ran to his side and grabbed him the wrist to make him stop.

“Are you crazy? You’re going to get infected!” Viktor cried out in panic. In that moment Yuuri had noticed the round and puffy redness around the other male’s eyes and thought; was he crying? Was he crying for me?

Yuuri was confined to the bed for another day until his boss made sure that his injuries were healing well. Slowly and painfully the Japanese assistant was on his recovery, and the blisters were starting to deflate and the pain subsides, eventually he was able to continue work as before. As he was filing his employer’s messy cabinet, a kind of shock overtook him. It was as though someone had just grabbed him and shook him really hard. Then a he saw his skin being burnt and revealing a metallic plate underneath, then there was noise in his vision and the image froze and started fragmenting into red yellow and green patterns.  It must have happened in a few seconds, but it felt much longer than that, leaving the Japanese man utterly confused.

One might think that such an occurrence was a freak incidence that would happen only once, however he was having the same strange shock sensation along for a few days and frustrated as he was it was time for him to ask Viktor about it. The Russian man was always attentive and friendly with him, but he tended to ignore everyone else. Yuuri found it flattering, but he thought of it as nothing more than a quirky characteristic of his personality. When the quiet assistant asked the Russian engineer about these strange occurrences, he felt quite disappointed that Viktor dismissed it as nothing more than a temporary after effect of the accident that he experienced. It made Yuuri feel somewhat more suspicious, because the silver haired man was dodging the questions and avoiding the topic altogether. Viktor was definitely hiding something and whatever it was, the Japanese assistant was determined to find out.

On a particular uneventful day, Yuuri was working alongside his boss, biding his time until he found the right opportunity. Viktor who was cheerful and completely unaware of these plans, moved around the kitchen to make lunch.

“We don’t have milk”, the silver haired scientist remarked with a frustrated and slightly annoyed tone. He closed the fridge and smiled at Yuuri “I’m going to get some, be right back” and with that he dashed off. Normally he would have sent Kio, his servant robot, but since ‘she’ had a malfunction, he had to do these chores until he fixed her. 

It was the perfect opportunity; Yuuri stood up and watched him through the window to make sure that he left the building, then he sped off to the laboratory, almost falling flat on his face when he stumbled into the IM-26, a machine built for cleaning and for those who cannot afford a servant-robot, but in this case it served as a temporary replacement. Normally, Yuuri would not have access of the office unless Viktor was there, but he had managed to ‘borrow’ the card key when the older man wasn’t looking.  He felt a tightening feeling around his chest as he walked to the office. With a slide of the card and a click, he opened the door and started looking for any clues that could help him in his quest. The room looked like an ordinary office; with a bookshelf (because he loved some of the old fashioned things), but he also had a book storage machine lying on the oak desk. It was an eyepiece that was worn like glasses. It managed to project holograms of books and with the help of a nodule on its side; it could turn the page and zooming functions.

The light bulb lit green, which meant that he had been using it, so out of curiosity Yuuri wore the eyes piece and flickered to see what was Viktor was reading. The truth, hit him harder than he ever imagined. It was a newspaper article about a young Japanese apprentice named Yuuri Katsuki, twenty-five from Kyushu, who died in a car accident.  The Japanese had been working as an assistant of Viktor Nikiforov for two years. In that moment Yuuri was unable to breathe, he took off the eyepiece and thrown it on the desk, gasping for air. His knees gave way but he held tightly on the desk like a shivering leaf. He had no idea how long he stood there, trying to process the discovery; the mere existence of another Yuuri meant only one possibility that he…it could not be true, it was against the rules, but then again what did he really know about Viktor?

Slowly he walked out of the office and went back home not being able to face the older man. He felt so devastated that as he walked through the streets, he found himself no longer captivated by the beauty and the charm of the city. Instead he felt it was a gloomy and oppressive, because he admired the avant-garde technology that this century had brought forward, only to discover that there was always a consequence to such advancement. Yuuri felt sickened at the mere concept that he was not what he thought he was. He could not acknowledge this new information because if he did, then he would have to face the reality of his existence. If he really wasn’t a human and he was a copy of someone else then what about his memories, where they his own? Or did Viktor add the previous Yuuri’s memories into his own? And if all of this was true, then what was his existence? Was he merely living as a substitute? Was there anything about him that is individual to him, or was he just an empty shell? Does he only live to serve for the purpose of the one who created him? He felt furious about Viktor because he felt like he was created as nothing more than a play toy. No matter how important that human Yuuri was to him, he should have never attempted to play God. The Russian engineer had completely neglected of Yuuri’s own feelings and his own consideration in the matter. After all, he might be a machine, but he was also a living, sentient being and as such he should have had some reclaim and saying on his own life. He should have known the truth right from the start. 

There was a ping sound and Yuuri picked up his cell phone and when he pressed the button, an autonomous voice started detailing him of the missed calls that he received from Viktor, but the deluded android dismissed them and continued walking. It did not matter where he ended up just as long as his legs kept walking on and on and on until he felt too tired to keep going. The sun was already making its descent and the skies darkened above his head. A few heavy droplets of rain started falling, until gradually it increased to a downpour. He did not know why or how, but he found himself in the street where Dr Feltsman lived.  The middle-aged Russian professor mentored Viktor when the younger scientist was studying in University. Dr Feltsman had been retired for many years and so he currently lived as a hermit in order to dedicate himself solely to his research. The old professor was never a people’s person so it came to no surprise that he preferred to live the rest of his days alone in company only to his projects.

Yuuri quickly ran up the stairs to the apartment block and pressed the buzzer, but there was no response. It took several buzzing before there was a grouchy response from the other end,

“What?”

The android felt a bit timid as he cleared his throat “It’s me Yuuri”, or a copy of Yuuri, he thought silently to himself.

There was a click and the door was let open for the apprentice to enter and walk to the second landing. He knocked on the door but he found it open so he slightly pushed it gently

“Hello?”

“Come in” came the response from within the living room.

Yuuri walked in and smiled softly, realizing that this was the first time that he had been in the professor’s house.

“What reason do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Yakov said emerged with a cup of coffee in his hand, his tone sounded too polite, almost sardonic.

“I have…something to ask you about”, Yuuri responded, realizing that he had come here without plan to talk about what had come to pass.

“Sit, I’ll make coffee”, the professor stated as he put down his coffee mug and went back to the kitchen. There was complete silence except for the ticking of the clock. It had been a long time since he saw an old fashioned wall clock and he couldn’t help but being curious, because a man who was so dedicated in technology, he had very little of such in his apartment.

Dr Yakov remerged with another cup and placed it into the apprentice’s hands “Sit” the older man ordered as he himself sat down on the couch. Yuuri did as requested and found a place on an armchair. There was a silence between them that seemed to stretch to no end. The android Yuuri had no idea where to begin or what to say to the older man. It was most likely that he was going to reveal Viktor’s secret, but he needed someone to talk to about it.

“ I…I’ve heard…well read…about an article…an article of someone named Yuuri Katsuki…” speaking softly, those words  were incredibly surreal to him as he said them.

“Ah…I see” Dr Yakov responded, contrary to expectation, there was neither shock nor sudden revelation on his face, it left Yuuri feeling very puzzled.

“Y-you you knew?! The deluded android uttered in a startled manner.

The professor groaned and then he raised and then slumped his shoulders in a relaxed pose, or was it defeat? “I did not approve it, but that damn fool does what he wants anyway!” he growled and angrily rubbed the back of his neck.

“-Did you…did you try to stop him?” Yuuri staggered, feeling utterly confused about this whole situation. Considering that if the other Yuuri had lived or Viktor would have been stopped, then he would have never existed.

“I argued with him for weeks to stop to this madness...but as you can see” The old professor explained. There was no need for him to specify, Yuuri’s own existence was proof enough of what had come from that decision.

The android could not help wonder if he should feel disdain or anger towards the professor for trying to stop him. As he thought about it, he realized that he wasn’t in fact angry with him, in the end he felt agreeing with him. Even though this was about his own existence, it was not right. 

“But know this kid, Viktor was a reckless and selfish idiot, but he had passion. The two biggest passions in his life merged into one. His apprentice and lover Yuuri Katsuki and his work, and you are both of these things into one. I am not saying that what he did was right, he did break the law and playing a fool’s game. I am sure you’re wondering about your own life right now, but I thought you should know what you mean to him. You mean everything to him”

Yuuri felt devastated at those words, because at that moment he felt too angry with Viktor to sympathize with him.

“I don’t know what to do” Yuuri pressed his hands against his face, feeling despair building inside of him.

“Have you talked to him?” The professor asked.

The android shook his head and replied, “I can’t see him at the moment”

There was a long pause, which then was interrupted by the older man suddenly standing up and walking away, but a few minutes later he came back with a pillow and a cover.

“Here” he said, conveying in only few words, Yuuri understood that the professor was offering him to sleep here for now and he appreciated it. He stared emptily at the pillow, but he knew that he will not be able to sleep. It was strange to him how he realized that he really did not need these basic needs, he was just programmed to. That thought created a gnawing feeling inside of him since everything that he believed, felt and experience wasn’t genuinely his own, then what was his reality? Was he going to be simply a clone? Or could he be a man of his own?  

[tinyavenuesailor]

Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?

Set when Peter had the Symbiote but Harry and Peter are dating and he kept it a bit longer

When Harry walked into the café looking for Peter and knew something was wrong immediately from the, “Yo, over here what’s uppp?” Peter laid back in his chair with his feet cocked out in the air, waving at Harry and was he wearing sunglasses? Inside a building?

“Pete?” Harry went to take a seat with his boyfriend despite his odd behaviour.

“So, Toomes is a professor at Oz academy now,” just like Peter to jump straight to the topic before Harry could order a drink especially when it's about science (not that Harry doesn’t love that about him), “what’s up with that?”

“Hey, we’re lucky to have him,” Harry lifted up his arms and curled his hands into little fists before exploding them open into a mind-blown gesture, “The guys a genius.” And just to show off the new tech to Peter – only to tease and with no hopes that it could help convince Peter to transfer to Oz Academy. “Plus now Oz has his vulture tech. I was trying out that sonic scream earlier, pretty sweet.”

Peter fixed his glasses and continued unfazed at the mention of new tech, “Yeah pretty sweet for a criminal.” He brushed his bangs to the side. Well, that was not the reaction Harry expected. “And I’m not buying the whole fresh start bit. People don’t just change overnight H.O.” H.O? That’s a new one. Peter took a huge bite out of his chocolate cupcake while Harry observed his from across the table.

“You seem to have,” Harry said with a hard edge in his voice.

“What?” Peter immediately threw his arms up and mentally Harry could imagine him taking two steps back, “Just a little confidence babe.” Hold up… babe?! Peter Parker called him babe without even the slightest blush. Peter drank his cup of what Harry would guess was their usual spinach smoothie and licked his lips, “If I was like this a Midtown I would have been way more popular.”

“Didn’t realize that was important to you.” He guesses it wouldn’t do harm for Peter to have a confidence boost.

Peter downed the rest of his smoothie and stood up, “Gotta bolt working on that Expo- or that thing that cannot be discussed.” He bent down so his face was levelled with Harry’s and tapped his cheek. It was nothing but asking Harry for their usual cheek-kiss send-off. Harry cupped the other side of Peter’s face and reached up to press his lips to Peter’s cheek. He didn’t expect Peter to turn his head so quickly so the lips could meet for a kiss. Harry’s eyes almost pop out at the shock. Peter backed up with a smirk over the face and threw his cup over his head for it to land in the garbage. “Text me later babe.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and watched Peter leave in the direction of his school. That was weird. Definitely weird but maybe not a bad weird with the feeling of Peter’s kiss still tingling on his lips.

This wasn’t bad at all. Being pulled into a back alley and thrown against the wall didn’t sound as sexy to Harry as it felt. Even with Peter’s odd behaviour, the last thing he saw was Peter pushing his body up against the graffiti wall and shoving his tongue down his throat. Not that Harry minded. If anything he could get used to this.

“Pete,” Harry moaned into the kiss. Peter’s hand slipped from the wall to around his waist and sunk down to Harry’s butt to give in a firm squeeze. Harry already clutching at Peter’s hoodie gave a light push to separate their lips. “Whoa, what’s got you so excited today?” Harry chuckled.

“What can I say, babe,” Peter grabbed Harry’s waist and pulled their bodies together, “you make me do crazy things.”

“I make you do crazy things,” Harry cocked up an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Peter dipped his head into Harry’s neck and growled, “with this smoking body of yours.”

Harry gasped when Peter took a small bite on his neck and sucked on the skin. “No hickeys,” Harry pushed away again, “I still have school and yours is about to start.”

“I can spare a few minutes,” Peter reached for Harry’s lips again but this time Harry covered his mouth with his hand.

“No you don’t and I promised John to come in early to help test his project.”

Harry expected Peter to lay off but was surprised to feel the grip on his waist tighten. Peter frowned and said with distaste, “John?”

“Yeah, my lab partner John Jameson remember?”

“Can’t he get someone else to help?” Peter stepped back and folded his arms. Harry would have normally let a comment like that slip and joke it off but the low growl in Peter's voice set off a warning bell.

“Well he is my partner and he’s also my friend. What’s wrong with asking for my help?”

“You guys just spend a lot of time together.”

“No more than what you spend with Miles or Gwen,” Harry narrowed down his eyes at Peter. “I can have friends at Oz Academy too you know.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”

Harry's eyes widened at Peter’s dismissal. He clenched his teeth and jabbed a finger into Peter’s chest, “What is your problem?”

Peter looked ready to answer when the sounds of sirens filled the air. He spared a look towards the direction of the noise and sighed, “It’s nothing babe.” He pressed a quick kiss on Harry’s lips and grabbed his bag by their feet. “School is about to start so gotta run. Talk to you later.” Peter ran out of the alley with the explanation for his bizarre behaviour.

Something was up with Peter. Forget the hot make-out sessions and the confidence boost. It was not worth it if he had to deal with self-righteous, arrogant person that has taken the face of his boyfriend. “Babe!” Harry stepped faster on the sidewalk with the voice right behind him, “Babe! Slow down!” Peter had managed to catch up to him and side-stepped in front of Harry.

“Peter move,” Harry growled.

“Chill out H.O, you ran out before I could give you your shake,” Peter raises the two-to-go cups of their spinach shake.

“I don’t want it!” Harry snapped.

“What’s your problem? I’m just trying to give you your drink.”

“What’s my problem?!” The boy had the nerve! “My problem is you flirting with the barista while I’m standing right beside you Peter!” The husky voice, the suggestive comments, that damn wink Peter gave to the giggly girl. Harry isn’t sure why he didn’t just dump his shake on Peter right there.

“Babe, its nothing serious, I was just playing along.” Harry has seen that smug grin enough times on Peter’s face to want to knock it right off. His eyes glanced over to the shakes and he sees black numbers rotating around the cup. He grabbed the cup from Peter and keeps himself from screaming in the middle of the city.

“Is this her number?!”

“I guess so,” Peter shrugged.

“Do you not see anything wrong with this?!” Harry pointed to the thick black numbers with a giant call me underneath.

“She wanted some of this,” Peter gestured to himself, “I really don’t blame her but I only have eyes for you.” Peter tried to grab Harry’s waist with his free hand but Harry immediately flinched out of this.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Harry looks up to the sky and groans, “You get jealous over me helping my lab partner with his project but I’m just supposed to be fine with you getting flirty with the barista and trading numbers.”

“Babe, I’m probably never going to see her again.”

“Stop calling me ‘Babe’!”

“What you hate when I call you that now?” Peter looked unimpressed.

“When I’m furious with you yes!” Harry felt like he was talking to a stranger. “Look I don’t know what’s going on with you right now but when you are ready to stop acting like a jerk and talk about it then you can come and find me but until then bye Peter.” Harry moved around Peter and stomped off, ignoring the calls for his name until they stopped.

It was impossible for Harry to enjoy his drink when he had ton constantly stare at that girl’s number written so neatly and cute for his boyfriend. Harry would admit that he felt way more satisfied than he should, dumping the cup down the trash. He thought his day couldn’t get any worse he finds Spider-man attacking Dr.Toomes. He couldn’t see what Peter and the rest of the city saw in that menace. He literally just tried to frame his professor for a crime he didn’t do after doing his time in prison. Some hero he was. Safe to say he was having a bad day. Peter hadn’t called or texted Harry so he was surprised to see him sitting in the café that morning and thankfully without those ridiculous shades.

“Harry,” Peter raised his hand to catch his attention. No, H.O or babe has the evil spirit that's possessed Peter’s body finally left and returned his boyfriend. Maybe. It was too soon to say and he was still pissed so he met Peter with a glare. He watched the brunette shrink in his chair and good he needs to see the guilt on Peter’s face before starting this talk.

Harry took the seat right across from Peter, “So.”

Peter's eyes widened at the sudden assault. His hands reached for the cup in front of him and push it towards Harry, “Should I start with the apology shake?” There was that cute dorky smile on Peter’s face that Harry wanted to give in to but the attitude from Peter yesterday was still fresh in his head and he kept up his cold act.

“If we aren’t going to talk I could just take this and leave,” Harry took the shake and sucked on the straw.

“Okay, I know I deserve this,” Peter gestured to Harry and his behaviour. Harry could see a slight pout from Peter’s bottom lip. “I’ve been an absolute jerk lately and I am so sorry Harry.”

“Is this apology for the flirting yesterday in particular?” Harry crossed his arms.

“Well, yes? No? For everything really and how I’ve been acting for the past few days.”

“Great,” Harry said, “because that hurt Peter.” He tried to hide the tiny crack in his voice.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t myself yesterday. I was an idiot and I promise it will never happen again.” Harry didn’t feel he could be angry at Peter for much longer considering how sincere he sounded. “It’s just been tough,” Peter continued, “I’ve just been dealing with a lot between school and my job.”

“Peter, I’m not just your boyfriend, I’m your best friend,” Harry grabbed Peter’s hand, “I’m here for you.”

“I know,” Peter squeezed his hand back. Harry smiled and sucked on his shake. Peter was back to normal or as normal as Peter Parker could get. “So, am I forgiven?” Peter asked with a small smiled.

Harry hummed, “Maybe after an apology blueberry muffin.”

“Coming right up,” Peter jumped out of his seat and placed a giant kiss on Harry’s cheek. Harry loved his science-loving, geeky, awkward boyfriend and was glad to have him back

[idolisme]

I wrote a thing for Thor: Ragnarok and have no patience to make it into a Proper Thing, so instead of posting it in its inchoate form to the more respectable fanfic sites I am, for the first time, putting fic on tumblr.  And it’s Christmas fic, no less.  have I truly fallen so far???????

anyway.

AU where just after the midcredits scene of Ragnarok, Loki explains to Thor who they’re dealing with and why, and Thor has the brilliant idea that he might be able to defeat Thanos with his lightning and the Tesseract and the element of surprise, so he convinces Loki to switch their appearances, to fool Thanos long enough for Thor-as-Loki to get close, then blast him with Space-Stone-infused lightning.

It goes as well as can be expected.

And after…

They fight the whole battle against Thanos without Thor, because Thor has been killed - everyone believes it, because Heimdall witnessed him disappearing into a hole in space when he was so damaged there is no way he could have survived the void and its maelstroms and monsters.  He makes his report to Val and Loki while Loki is still pretending to be Thor, and the battle is soon so the truth has to come out anyway, so Loki just goes to the Avengers as himself to tell them what has become of his brother.  He swears on Thor’s sacrifice that he will fight to protect Midgard and Asgard, and that’s enough for Steve, which means it’s enough for the rest of them.  Bruce is, to Loki’s surprise, a comforting presence at his side — he had come to care for Thor, and as a healer, feels his best way to work through his own grief is to help Loki through his.  (Loki feels like this should piss him off, that he should find this insulting… he is actually grieving too much to care.)

So they fight, and they win, and Loki becomes an Avenger though he is also still King of Asgard.  Val and Heimdall also fight, and both survive.  Midgard and Asgard are well defended, and things go rather quiet on the Avenging front for a while.

And then….. it’s Christmas.  Loki, having finished building a school in Asgard (to keep their history alive — and corrected, after Odin’s rewrites), has gotten bored of kingship but is unwilling to stray far from Midgard, so he finds himself frequently in Avengers Tower, watching Bruce and Tony play with Midgardian tech, occasionally giving them fresh ideas — some of which, yes, are intentionally bad.  It makes him grin to see them get knocked off their feet.  His good ideas and advice, though, are well worth the danger to the science bros, and maybe Bruce has talked to Tony about the stages of grief and how Loki is doing remarkably well for someone who has lost the only people they cared about, not long after losing their entire planet, and having to be the guide and role model for the rest of his people as they process their own grief… and Tony really doesn’t mind the occasional explosion in his lab anyway.  (There’s probably at least one instance where an idea Tony and Bruce have backfires badly enough that they could die, but since Loki is there half-attentively observing, he uses his magic to get them out of the room because he notices the problem before they do, and then they’re super grateful.  Thereafter they’re pals, as much as anyone can be pals with Loki.)

So, Loki hangs around Avengers Tower to avoid people and to play pranks on his new friends.  Heimdall rules Asgard in his stead, as Regent, and its people are cool with it.  But then it’s Christmas, and all the Avengers are going to get together in the Tower for a few days before the holiday.  Tony, as the party planner, carefully doesn’t tell Loki this is happening because he kinda wants him to be there at least for a little while, to give the others the opportunity to tell him that they want good things to happen to him in the new year, and to give him a gift, if they feel so inclined.  Well, he and Bruce have felt so inclined, and they want everyone to see that the crazy alien who took a bite out of New York some years back is actually a cool guy now that he isn’t under the influence of an evil monster.

And then Heimdall, eyes sparkling, pulls Tony and the other Avengers — not Loki — aside, and tells them the news.  Thor is alive.

He has just come out of a portal from the void, somewhere far away, and is rapidly making his way to Midgard.  He and Heimdall have spoken, and Thor is a little weird and he’s missing a hand as well as his eye, but he’s pretty much himself, and he is delighting himself with the idea that he might surprise Loki with his alive state.  And he wants to do it in person.  So please don’t tell Loki, okay?

So Thor gets to Midgard and he comes to the Tower, and he knocks on the door, and Tony says, super casually, “Hey Lokester, d’you mind getting that?”

Loki, uncomfortable in a red reindeer knit sweater but drinking some Midgardian wine and chatting amiably enough with Clint’s wife ((((Laura???)))) about Asgardian bread, rolls his eyes, throws off the reindeer antlers that keep reappearing on his head (put there by the children?? Tony?? there have been many guilty parties.  He’s pretty sure Strange is in on it too, which is why he never catches the culprit), and goes to the door.

He’s a little bemused to notice that all the sound has gone out of the room behind him as he opens the door.

“Loki,” Thor says, smiling.  It sounds like he has a cold.

Loki can’t really move at all.  His ribs feel like stone — cold, shatter-prone.  His scar hurts.

They continue to stare at each other, and Thor’s smile fades.  “Do… Do you not recognize me?”

“Oi, let him in, idiot-king,” Val says, knocking Loki’s shoulder on her way past him to thump Thor’s arm with her fist and then crash into his chest with a hug.

Loki watches them without seeing anything, frozen in a tilt from how he’d caught himself from falling after her shove.

Thor’s eyes only briefly leave his to glance down at Val as she draws away from him.  “He’s done superbly in your absence,” she informs him in a stage whisper.

“Is he all right?” Thor replies in kind, his brow furrowed.  His eyes suddenly grow wide, and he holds out his hands placatingly.  “Brother, if I have angered you—”

“Shut up, you piece of filth,” Loki says, striding over to him and tugging Val behind him.  His seidr wraps around them both and forms a barrier in the doorway.  The sweater is gone, replaced by his armor.  “Who the Hel do you think you are?” he says, grasping the impostor’s collar and pulling him forward to sneer in his face.  “Do you have any idea what sort of people you’re trying to fool?”  He laughs mockingly.

“I’m not—”

“That is actually your brother, Your Majesty,” Val says from behind him with a note of warning in her voice.  “Calm down.”

He looks at her over his shoulder at her.  “My brother,” he says, his voice rough only in patches, as he strives to maintain his vitriol, “is dead.”  His gaze on her softens, however, and he follows with, “I swear to you, I will figure out how this magic works, and break the spell upon you.”

Val looks at Thor and rolls her eyes.

“Brother, I don’t want to hurt you,” Thor says desperately.  “But let me go, and I will explain all.”

In the next instant, Loki yelps as his seidr barrier in the doorway is broken from within by a long sword.

“Your Majesty!” Heimdall calls to him, and he cranes his neck to look at him, his hands still on the impostor’s shirt collar.  Odd that no danger proximity alarms have gone off in the Tower, and that he cannot sense any deceptive magic in or on the being before him.  Save for the faint smell of ozone, and of leather, and of something else that was how Thor had always—

Heimdall says, “Let him go, Loki.  He is your brother.  I saw him leave the void yesterday, and make his way here.  He asked me not to tell you, as a… joke.”  The disapproval in Heimdall’s voice could not be mistaken.

“Which was stupid of me, I see now,” says the impostor, and Loki whips his head back to see that stupid, familiar grin.  “I am truly sorry.”

Loki stares.  “How are you tricking him,” he mumbles to himself.  “Tricking Heimdall to see someone who isn’t there is impossible.  Or very nearly.”

“Consider that I am tricking no one, dear brother, and it should make sense.”  He places his hands over Loki’s at his collar and slowly pries them off.

Loki’s seidr trickles away as his shock increases, and his armor abandons him — he is left again with the too-large, reindeer-themed sweater.  He glances over his shoulder once more to meet Heimdall’s eyes, which are clear.  There are still no alarms or signs of foul play.  Tony and Bruce are smirking into their beer.  Steve and Sam smile openly, and turn away to go back into the Tower, to — what, give him some privacy to greet his brother?  His brother.  Thor is alive, Thor has come home…

He grits his teeth and says, “I loathe you,” to Thor before taking a single long step forward and hugging the life out of him.  He wraps his arms over Thor’s so he can’t lift them and locks his hands together against Thor’s back, then squeezes.  Thor coughs.

“Norns, let me g- huhhh, let me go!” Thor says, twisting.  “Let me hug you properly, Your Majesty,” he teases.

Loki releases him and wipes furiously at his tears.  “I don’t want any of your stupid h—”

Thor crushes him to him, hands on his back, and presses their cheeks together.  It’s mortifying, but it also feels really good.  Like every earnest hug he’d ever received from Thor or Frigga, wrapped up in one.  He can’t stop crying.  He desperately hopes everyone else has taken Steve’s lead as usual, and gone back inside.

“I’m sorry.  I’m so, so, so very sorry.  I’m here.  I’m home now.”

The antlers have made their way back onto Loki’s head (Strange must be involved somehow), and he petulantly tears them off and jams them onto Thor’s.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he tells him, and at Thor’s bewildered look he begins to laugh.

[zrtranscripts]

Season 6, Mission 23: Under Pressure

No risk, no reward

SAM YAO: Okay, okay. Runner Five, you're leading the team into that – mm, now how can I describe it? Um, rusting hulk of an ocean-going science vessel in dry dock with a bunch of other rusting hulks. Uh, it's covered in barnacles and weird bits of sea moss?

VERONICA MCSHELL: What is it you're supposed to say when you see a ship, Dr. Myers? Is it, "Thar she blows"?

MAXINE MYERS: I think that's when you see a whale or Moby Dick.

VERONICA MCSHELL: Oh. I know Moby Dick. You can't catch him. You'll die trying.

SAM YAO: All right, all right. But no one's dying today, okay? All right? There will be no portentous revelations. No one is going to say that they're Ahab and the cure is the whale.

MAXINE MYERS: Roger. Veronica, if you identify with Captain Ahab, you are grounded.

VERONICA MCSHELL: [sighs] How much longer until we can get onto the ship, Sam?

SAM YAO: Well, the guards are doing their final sweep for this hour. Your window to get on board is in a minute.

VERONICA MCSHELL: The Minister used that ship to research Moonchild Syndrome. Maybe we'll find some clues about how she triggered Moonchild in you, Runner Five. Her research was more advanced than we thought.

MAXINE MYERS: As in so many areas, the Minister was always one step ahead of us.

SAM YAO: What? The cure is real, then? Not like one weird trick to cure your zombie infection?

MAXINE MYERS: Oh, it's real. I mean, Paula really wanted to do this mission because she's gotten nostalgic for... we are certain the Minister knows how to cure the zombie plague.

VERONICA MCSHELL: You can say it. She knows how to cure the zombie plague, and I don't.

SAM YAO: No one expected you to be able to do that, Veronica.

VERONICA MCSHELL: Everyone expected me to do that.

SAM YAO: Right. Okay. Your window's coming up. Be ready to run in seven, six, five -

VERONICA MCSHELL: I think you might be Captain Ahab, Runner Five.

SAM YAO: - four, three, two, one. Time to go! Up the gangway onto that ship, before the guards spot you.

SAM YAO: Uh, wow, yeah. Uh, yeah, I've got a couple of cams in there. That place is covered in barnacles inside and out. Rusted open doors encrusted with limpets. The floor's half eaten away with rust.

[ship creaks]

VERONICA MCSHELL: The Minister dredged the ocean floor for this ship. She told me she thought it was important.

MAXINE MYERS: There's new equipment here among the rusted stuff, Sam. Look at this! A brand new audio mixing desk.

SAM YAO: [laughs] Intel from the Laundry is that people are still being brought to that boat occasionally. We've picked up a little bit of chatter via that transmitter Jody built. And Ellie's been helping us. In all the confusion, the Minister didn't guess a thing about her helping us escape.

Anyway, yeah. We think this boat is one of the places she's done experiments on people with Moonchild Syndrome. I suppose she would have done experiments on you here, Five, if she'd managed to find you, her Alpha. Kytan said she was looking for you among all the Moonchild Syndrome sufferers. She must have been trying to work out how to do what she did to get Moonchild to take you over.

MAXINE MYERS: Five, if Sigrid has a back door into you, we are going to slam it shut. Hey Veronica, look at these labeled switches. "Stable trigger 1," "unstable trigger." I feel pretty "unstable" myself. Whoa, this floor is slippy! [laughs]

VERONICA MCSHELL: Runner Five, I'm going to press a button. It will only last a second.

MAXINE MYERS: Veronica, wait! You don't know what this will do to Runner Five.

VERONICA MCSHELL: And we won't find out until I try. I've  been too timid in my research, Dr. Myers. That's been the whole problem. Runner Five, we will help you if it becomes unmanageable.

[button clicks, low buzzing tone emits]

MOONCHILD: Well, this is awkward. [laughs] Here I am. No fanfare. No exciting adventures. What do you want?

VERONICA MCSHELL: [muffled] Is she there?

MOONCHILD: Are you letting this teenage witch experiment on your brain, Five?

VERONICA MCSHELL: [muffled] Good. I'm turning it off. [presses button]

SAM YAO: Um, guys. I'm picking up something on cams. Something attracted by the noise.

MAXINE MYERS: We see them. Six zoms, decayed. One of them has barnacles on its skull.

VERONICA MCSHELL: It's okay. We've seen everything we need to here anyway. Follow me.

[zombies groan]

[zombies groan]

VERONICA MCSHELL: This way. Left down this passage.

MAXINE MYERS: Those zoms are right behind us, Veronica. The barnacles are giving their feet extra grip on the floor.

VERONICA MCSHELL: It's all right! We're here.

[doorknob rattles]

MAXINE MYERS: We're at a dead end! That door is locked. Five, grab that piece of pipe. I think we can kill them if we have to.

VERONICA MCSHELL: You always think so little of me, Dr. Myers! Five, give me your hand. Put your thumb on that pad.

[security system beeps]

COMPUTER: Access granted. Doors opening.

[doors clatter open]

SAM YAO: Oh. Whoa. Five's thumb print just opened the door. How did you know?

VERONICA MCSHELL: Even after all the time you've known me, you still think of me as a little girl. I have to be protected. You need to hide the truth from me. You can't trust me. Didn't you think to ask yourselves why the Minister dredged this ship up from the ocean floor?

SAM YAO: Yeah, I mean, she does do a lot of crazy things for no apparent reason. She just fired one of her aides for looking at her weird.

MAXINE MYERS: This was Moonchild's ship, right?

VERONICA MCSHELL: It was. One of her fleet. [sighs] We don't have much time to investigate, and this door can only be locked from the outside, so we have to hurry. Come on!

MAXINE MYERS: [whispers] Sam, Five, do you see that backpack hanging up on the corridor there?

SAM YAO: Nah. Uh, lights are too dim. All I get on my cams is just like, well, there are metal corridors, and maybe the air is made of soup?

MAXINE MYERS: It's your backpack, Runner Five. The one you ran off with when Moonchild was mind-controlling you? It never made it back to Abel. I think you've been on this ship before.

VERONICA MCSHEL: Look in here. Dr. Myers, do you see it?

MAXINE MYERS: I can see a glass paneled room with three corpses, Veronica. There's graffiti on the wall. It says, "She talks with me. I will do her bidding, child of the moon."

VERONICA MCSHELL: I wonder how they died? They look like quite fresh corpses, don't they? Maybe not more than five or six weeks old? In your medical opinion.

MAXINE MYERS: Yes. What are you doing here, Veronica? I thought you were here to find out what experiments Sigrid had done to learn how to trigger Moonchild in Runner Five's mind so that we can stop her?

VERONICA MCSHELL: That is what we're here for.

SAM YAO: Uh, look. I think what Maxie is saying, Veronica, is that... is that you seem to know a lot more about what might have happened on this ship than you've let on. And we're a bit concerned about that.

VERONICA MCSHELL: I was working with the Minister last year. She told some of the things she was working on. I didn't think this sounded very interesting, so I didn't pay much attention to it. I wanted to find the cure. That would have been important. But I didn't find the cure, so all that time and effort was wasted.

MAXINE MYERS: You shouldn't blame yourself for not finding the cure, Veronica. It's not your fault. It was a huge amount to ask.

VERONICA MCSHELL: I don't blame myself. I blame you. You destroyed Professor Van Ark's notes. They are clearly what she used to find the cure so quickly. He must have been on to something that I hadn't thought of.

[sighs] It's too late to worry about that now, though. I want to get ahead where I can. I don't think the Minister realized she told me enough to details to work out where this place was and what she was doing here. She mentioned individual details in eight different conversations, but I put it together.

Hmm. I'll just use that crowbar to get the door open. [door cracks open, glass shatters] There. It's open. It's there! She's left one here!

SAM YAO: Uh, Veronica, would you like to share your working with the rest of the class?

VERONICA MCSHELL: Look, I have one of those headsets Mr. Kytan used to monitor Moonchild's activity in your brain, Five. And look, Dr. Myers. The Minister's left one of the boosters that she used to experiment on people with Moonchild Syndrome. If I connect them up like this and then put it on your head, Five – [cloth rustles]

MAXINE MYERS: Oh, I see! You should be able to monitor exactly what Sigrid was doing in this chamber. Yeah! That's smart! Grisly, but smart. Just put this headset on again, Five. We've got a battery pack for it.

VERONICA MCSHELL: If I just turn on the booster...

[button clicks, low buzzing tone emits]

MOONCHILD: I'll tell you one thing, Five, this child really will get you killed one day. Didn't she think to check whether any of the equipment in this room was still live? That sound you hear is a transmitter broadcasting to sufferers of Moonchild Syndrome. It's telling me to paralyze you, Runner Five... to stop the signals flashing in your synapses! 

I don't know if I can do that. I don't know why I seem to have a choice about doing it or not. I do know one thing: we need to get out of here right now. Run!

[SAM YAO speaks indistinctly in background]

MOONCHILD: Here we are again, Five. You and the voice in your head.

SAM YAO: Are you okay? You just ran off. [sighs] Veronica and Maxine are following, but they got cut off by those zoms. They'll be with you soon. You're safe. Nothing bad's going to happen.

MOONCHILD: But so many bad things already have. We're not in danger right now, Runner Five. That signal's stopped telling me to paralyze you. I wonder if I could. I wonder if we're different, you and me. Are we the same as all the other Moonchild Syndrome patients? Am I just a reproduction of a reproduction of a reproduction? Am I just a cog in a machine?

[printer whirs]

MAXINE MYERS: Sam, can you hear that? There are Telex printers printing.

VERONICA MCSHELL: Five of them along this corridor, all printing the same thing.

SAM YAO: What are they printing?

MAXINE MYERS: It says, "Am I just a reproduction of a reproduction? Am I just a cog in a machine?"

MOONCHILD: Well, that's interesting!

VERONICA MCSHELL: Now it says, "Well, that's interesting."

MOONCHILD: I think I remember something, Five! Something that happened here between you and me! [SAM YAO speaks indistinctly in background] You need to head to the lower deck now!

MOONCHILD: Five, I'm in charge now. Just for a minute, I promise. Put your thumb on that pad.

[security system beeps]

COMPUTER: Access granted. Doors opening.

[door clatters open]

MOONCHILD: We're very close to finding out what I am, Five. What we are. I don't remember, but I remember that I left something there for myself.

[door swings shut]

SAM YAO: Five... you've gone into a place where I've got no cams, and the door swung shut behind you. Please, tell us if you need help!

MOONCHILD: We've got to do this alone, Five. Alone, together.

MAXINE MYERS: The Telex has stopped. The last thing it said was, "I left something there for myself."

MOONCHILD: Do you see that chair on the left? The green leather one with the arms? I think you used to sit in it when we were here together. Sit in it again, Five. Just for a minute.

[flashback scene]

MOONCHILD: Can I try it with you, Five? I wouldn't want to try it with anyone else. Roll up your sleeve. [cloth rustles] Good. It's just a transdermal patch. You'll need to wear it while you're with me. For a few days, 8 or 10 or 12, I don't really know. I think it should make you more susceptible. Permanently susceptible.

I'm already inside your mind, Five, but what if I were there always? We'd never be alone. [paper packaging rips] There are a few other little things we'll need to do. Certain sounds. But mostly it's just conversation. Long conversations late into the night. Just like we do, Five. I want you to be special and carry me with you wherever you go.

[present time]

SAM YAO: We can't just leave Five!

MAXINE MYERS: The guards are coming, Sam. If they find us here, they'll search the whole ship and find Five anyway. We can come back with a rescue party. You know this is what Sigrid wants! She wants us to never feel we can trust Runner Five.

MOONCHILD: Sounds like it's time for us to get out of here, Five. We've found what we needed. Open that door.

[door clatters open]

SAM YAO: Ah! No, it's okay. Five, you've got to get out of there. Run.

SAM YAO: Five, Maxine and Veronica are on the other side of that wall. Duck down now, before the guard sees you.

GUARD: Orders from the Minister: we're to torch this ship at the end of the week. Outlived its usefulness now Marine Bay Colony have come to us.

SAM YAO: Oh God! They got Marine Bay Colony? A year ago, they all got Abel Forever tattoos. Five, if you keep low, you'll be fine. Head down the walkway.

MAXINE MYERS: Five, are you okay? Did you find what you were looking for? You look kind of weird.

SAM YAO: No, no, no, no. You don't have to talk yet, Five. Not if you don't want to.

VERONICA MCSHELL: But you should tell me what happened, Runner Five. Whatever it was, it'll help us to protect you from the Minister.

MAXINE MYERS: Veronica, don't push Runner Five. There is no need to hurry.

VERONICA MCSHELL: But there is a need! Whatever Runner Five learned is the only thing that can help. You can't just be gentle with people all the time, Dr. Myers! That's not what the Minister does. She keeps pushing until she gets results. That's what we have to do, too!

SAM YAO: Look, we've all been under a lot of pressure, Veronica.

VERONICA MCSHELL: Do you think I don't know that you had a vial of the cure, and you gave it to Dr. Cohen?

MAXINE MYERS: I, um... what? What? That...

VERONICA MCSHELL: See? Gentleness. You mean lying. You mean not telling the truth. I know! I've known for days! You tried to keep it from me to stop my feelings from being hurt because Janine doesn't trust me anymore to find the cure, does she?

SAM YAO: She, um... well, she decided it'd be better for Paula to monitor the way the cure works on her, yeah.

VERONICA MCSHELL: That's what I mean. You have to tell me the truth, or I won't be able to work anything out! Runner Five, please. Tell me what happened to you in that ship. I think I can help you get better.

MOONCHILD: Well, will you tell her, or will I? We're not like the other Moonchild Syndrome sufferers, Runner Five. I put myself into you on purpose. I'm what's left of that other Moonchild, the living one. Like a zombie. [laughs] I've risen again! [laughs]