#reminds me of happy camping memories c:

[marasvenus]

What Does Your Future Spouse’s Dark Side Look Like? — [♡] ;

☆ ミ book a personal reading with me ☆彡

Pile One ༣

Cards: The Sun, The Moon, Queen of Wands, King of Cups, The Fool, The World, Strength, Seven of Cups, Five of Cups

Your Future Spouse seems to hold in a lot of emotion. It seems like they have a side of them that’s shown to the public/those around them and a side to them that they keep to themselves. The side that others see is very self assured, stoic, hard working, straight forward, etc. and there’s another side of them with insecurity, doubt, fear, etc. that they hide from others and I think they also try to neglect that side of them themselves. They struggle with feeling invalid and unworthy but refuse to open up to those around them. It’s like they don’t even give themselves the option of vulnerability or true connection with others out of fear of rejection. They’re afraid others will reject them the way they’ve rejected themselves for so long. They are their own biggest critic and are very harsh on themselves.

They seem to be empathetic towards others and incredibly understanding of others and their situations. They might be an older sibling or just seen as a mentor or parental figure to others. They seem very wise but may struggle with connection with others. I’m hearing “tolerate it” by Taylor Swift. They may unknowingly neglect the needs and emotions of those around them because of this lack of vulnerability on their side. They do care and are an incredibly caring and emotional person but their inability to meet others have way and connection in a real and emotional way is a huge blockage for them in their personal relationships.

I do believe they will overcome and work through this before you meet them but it will take some time. I think their love and dedication to those around them will be the driving force behind this change in them.

Pile Two ༣

Cards: The Hermit, Five of Wands, Page of Wands, Page of Pentacles, Six of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, The Sun, The Chariot, The Lovers, Five of Wands, Three of Pentacles

It seems your future spouse comes from a very long and difficult history of abuse. Possibly very extreme abuse and they could be in therapy for it. They may have had to move out and pave their own way at a very young age or were possibly in foster care until they aged out of it. They’ve had to struggle through a lot on their own, though and build a life for themselves. It does seem they’ve built a very good life for themselves, though. I think they could be business owners or something like that. For some of you, they may own a tattoo or barber shop.

Your future spouse may be very friendly, social and kind but I think very few know what they’ve actually been through. I think they have a select few very close friends that they trust and that probably knew them as a child when they were experiencing the trauma they went through. Your future spouse may struggle with mental health and go through periods of time where they isolate themselves. If they own a business they may take time away from work during these periods of isolation and they just stay home. I do believe they have a very good support system that helps them out of this place, though.

I also think they have other ways of coping with their struggles like going to the gym, possibly meditating outside and walking. Being near large bodies of water also seems to help them. It may remind them of a childhood memory that was good. Possibly camping at a lake or maybe they lived near a body of water. For some of you, your future spouse may be Scottish. That was oddly specific but came in randomly lol.

Overall, your future spouse seems to be very kind and warm to anyone they meet and most of the time they seem to come off very happy and extroverted but they do struggle with past trauma and mental health and they fall into periods of deep depression and isolation that they may struggle to get out of but they have a good support system and good coping mechanisms that they utilize to pull themselves out of these difficult places.

Pile Three ༣

Cards: Eight of Swords, Ten of Swords, Page of Wands, Seven of Swords, King of Pentacles, The Chariot, The Moon, The Fool, Death, Five of Pentacles, The Magician, Knight of Wands, Queen of Swords, Two of Cups, Knight of Swords

I think your future spouse is their own worst enemy. They hold themselves back from so much. They’re bad about self sabotaging and letting their fears and anxieties hold them back from going after what they want. They lose opportunity after opportunity because they take any chance to achieve their goals/dreams away from themselves before anyone else can. They allow the fear of rejection or failure to keep them in this box where there’s no room for growth or development.

I think they have friends/family around them that consistently lift them up and encourage them to go after what they want and I think that encouragement work for a short period of time but they always immediately start tearing themselves down and erasing any progress those around them have made on their self confidence and assurance in themselves. They give themselves no opportunity for growth or change and honestly may have a sort of victim mindset where they blame their lack of growth or forward movement on their circumstances or “lack of opportunity”.

I think this will change for them though because I think a friend or family member, possibly a male friend or older brother? Will sit them down and be brutally honest them and that’s really what your Future Spouse needs. I think once their own illusions are broken down, they’ll finally see that the sky really is the limit for them and they have so much opportunity and potential for growth and expansion in all aspects of their life. It will take a lot of time and failure before they get to that place, though.

[yingxtkm]

would you do aerith for the ask game? :D

Aye aye🫡 Lowkey took me a hot second to think of A and B for some reason 😂 I think I’m too far gone in my ‘reject canon reality’ AUs.

Headcanon A: Realistic

She and Tifa would share a room when they had the fortune of being able to stay at an inn instead of camping outside during their chase after Sephiroth. They would spend the nights together braiding each others hair and reminiscing their childhood, giggling about stupid boys (Tifa has a few stories of Cloud to share and Aerith is more than happy to hear it so she can tease him about it) and childish dreams and aspirations. It takes their mind off the reality of their situation and reminds them of simpler, happier times.

Headcanon B: While it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Would leave buckets out and other gardening tools around the church on purpose so Reno would trip over them when he’s assigned to come over and keep tabs on her. Every time he thinks he’s prepared for whatever trap she set up for him, she manages to catch him off guard. She somehow convinces everyone that she’s not doing this on purpose and now Reno sounds like the crazy, paranoid one.

Headcanon C: Heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

She keeps the pouch that Ifalna hid the white materia in in her dresser. It’s the only remaining keepsake from her birth mother that she has, and sometimes she would take it out and stare at it with wistful eyes, trying to remember the happy memories that have been gradually fading over the years.

The red color of the pouch is now faded but the leather and black drawstring still remain in pristine condition. She tucks it back into the corner of the drawer before she sneaks out the house to follow Cloud.

Headcanon D: Unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Oh y’all already know what’s coming up next. LAB SIBLINGS LAB SIBLINGS ‼️ Regardless of doomed or good ending, I adore the lab siblings headcanon and if lab siblings hc has no fans, then I am dead. I could go on forever about this hc but you already know the gist hehe 😇

TLDR: Awkward big brother Seph and menace little sister Aerith. She’s a nuisance to him until she’s not, and suddenly he can’t bear to lose her to Hojo’s schemes.

[lamardeuse]

We'll find our promised land

by lamardeuse

911 || Buck/Tommy, Buck/Eddie || Rated M || c. 2700 words

Written for @911actions thanks to the kind donation of captnvalkyrie. Hope you enjoy!

Prompt 576: Fanfiction about Buck and Eddie at their first Pride as a couple with the rest of the 118.

2006

The first time Buck goes to a Pride parade, it's a mistake.

His parents are taking him to the Whitaker Center in Harrisburg to enrol him in summer science camp because he nearly flunked science last year. It's not that he doesn't like science – he loves it, actually – but he's been forgetting a lot of stuff lately, and even though he tried to keep on top of his assignments a few slipped through. His mom read his final report card with her face all pinched and he braced himself for the inevitable lecture.

I swear I was trying my best, but I – I kept forgetting.

Well, your best simply isn't good enough, Evan. Now that Maddie is gone, you can't rely on her to be your memory any more. You have to buckle down and smarten up.

He can't remember a time when he didn't feel like he was stupid every now and then, but lately it's been a near-constant thought, mainly because there's no one around to counteract the voice in his head, a voice that sounds more and more like his mother.

He's been to this place before and liked it well enough, even picked up the brochure for their summer camps and had a look at it the last time he was here. Now, though, it feels like a punishment.

Before they reach Market Street, his father slows to a stop and mutters under his breath.

“Why is the road blocked?” his mother asks.

“No idea,” Dad says. “There shouldn't be any construction, I was just here three days ago.”

“Well, a lot can change in three days,” Mom says primly.

His father grunts unhappily, then turns down another street where he finds a parking garage that's nearly full. By the time they trudge down the stairs to the bottom – because of course the elevator's broken – the mood is tense. Well, the mood's always tense, but – tenser. Whatever.

Evan hears the thumpa thumpa of a disco beat long before they reach Market Street. There are random cheers from what sounds like a huge crowd, which is confirmed when they round the corner and come up against a sea of people.

“Oh, for Heaven's sake,” his mother says.

“What's the parade for?” Evan asks. The Fourth of July is another week away, and he doesn't see an American flag waving anywhere. No one answers him.

And then a float goes by with about a dozen guys wearing really tiny shorts and body glitter and not much else, and Evan thinks, oh.

“We can sign him up tomorrow,” his mother says. “We can come back tomorrow.”

His father's jaw twitches. “We came all this way. I just walked down six flights of stairs and I'm going to have to climb up six flights to get the car. Let's just –”

“Do you really think this is a place for children?” his mother says, a little too loudly if the glares of a couple of people around him is any indication.

“I'm not a child,” Evan protests. “I'm gonna be fourteen in –”

“Evan, be quiet,” his mother hisses.

“And lots of gay and lesbian people have kids,” he blurts out.

“Don't remind me,” his mother mutters.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Evan demands.

“Don't take that tone with your mother,” his father snaps.

“How are we going to get through this crowd?” his mother says. “The museum is across the street.”

“I don't even want to go to this camp!” Evan yells. “I'm not stupid,” he adds, more weakly because he doesn't sound convincing even to himself.

“Then don't act like it,” his father says. They stand there for a minute in silence, watching the parade. There's a car going by now, one of those huge old convertibles. There's a really tall lady in a hot pink satin evening gown and matching gloves up to her elbows sitting in the back seat and waving at the crowd. She looks right at Evan and smiles. Evan can't help but smile back. She looks so happy.

“Six flights it is,” his father mutters, turning on his heel and heading back the way they came.

read the rest at the AO3

[ihearyou-jikook]

Also the sounds in Interlude: Dive are quite interesting 🧐

OMG! Hi anon.

You are my very first anon! Which makes you special, thank you. I appreciate you.

I never thought I would have one, and you may be my last. 😵 I guess we shall see!

The sounds in Interlude: Dive are very interesting.

@stormblessed95 has a very nice post on what Jimin has said about Interlude: Dive if you haven’t seen it, here is that lovely post.

I’m not sure if you wanted to know my full ramblings about this track but since you kindly sent in this ask and since Jimin has said

“I think it will be a fun experience to concentrate and listen to each (sound)”

I am going to take this opportunity and run with it. Since I love talking about Face. (This may be a long post)

There are so many interesting sounds in this track but I will mainly talk about the sounds that stuck out to me the most. And I will talk about them in the context of what Jimin said in the post that I linked above. He mentioned that he wanted an “emotional line” from Face-off to Like Crazy and to express happy and sad memories.

Disclaimer: These are all just my curiosities and will be all open-ended thoughts and imagery for fun.

Let's get it.

Sound: Rewind

Time: 0:00

Jimin has said that Face is about his feelings during 2020 in chronological order. This rewind sound at the beginning makes me curious to know at what point in 2020 did he start to feel the things he felt in Face-off, about the people around him? About the people, he thought he could trust and believe in. The ones who hurt him. Was this shortly after the pandemic started? Or right before when they were still active? 

***I am not in the Face-off is a break-up song camp. This song, based on the lyrics and the vibe of the song sounds like he is speaking to all the fake bitches who hurt and used him. He wants to be cleansed of dem' demons. Get it outttt. Get it outtt***

Sound: Breath

Time: 0:36

The breathy sounds seem to me like the sounds of crying, sniffling sounds.

It’s interesting that this sound comes before the cheering and concert monologue. It’s possible that some of these sounds may not be in a particular order since Jimin said he wanted it to be a dream-like state. But, could it be a representation of some feelings that were creeping up at the beginning of 2020 while BTS was still active? Things that he wasn’t ready to deal with at the time? Facing one’s self. 

If there is one thing I know for sure about the pandemic, is that when everything stopped in the world we all had to face a lot of things about ourselves at home. It was rough.

Sound: Something Dropping?

Time: 1:39

Warning: This curiosity is kind of out there.

The sound I clipped above, I don’t know if it’s difficult to hear, but to me it sounds like something dropping on the floor. 

This sound happens right before the start of the car engine and driving away. As if something is being left behind?

Like the last time, you left work and then found out you wouldn’t be going to work the next day because the world was in chaos. 😣 Was that Jimin, the performer, being left behind?

Here’s a western thought. Let’s get a little crazier.

That sound also reminded me of the sound of gambling chips hitting the floor or table and one chip landing vertically and rolling. Which then reminded me of the proverb “Let the chips fall where they may.” Which could be used to say: to allow things to happen as they may without trying to change them. 

Maybe finally allowing himself to feel all the emotions he may have been avoiding before the pandemic and allowing the process to play out? A feeling of letting go of all defenses so that you can face yourself? Again, a curiosity using a western phrase.

I don’t know, I don’t know. 🤷‍���️ But it stood out to me and Jimin was right. This is a fun experience.

Sound: Pouring and Gulping a Drink

Time: 1:57

That emotional line that Jimin wanted to draw from Face-off to Like Crazy?

A job well done. Passed with flying colors if you ask me. 

That pouring and drinking sound really wraps it up and transitions to Like Crazy very nicely.

When Suga asked Jimin on Suchwita if Jimin came up with the tracklist himself.

Jimin said:

The details Jimin thinks about are really deep and all-encompassing. He’s very very good at creating an experience.

One of the many reasons why I love him.

I wish I could tell him personally, face to face, that the things he sets out to achieve creatively, he achieves them well and gets his message through to those who are listening.

You know, I know.

Sighhhh. I’ll just have to keep dreaming.

I would love to hear what other people think about Interlude: Dive, including you Anon!

Hit me up or @ me.

[thewingedmuse]

(a) Danielle, or D.A

(b) She/they

(c) Romantic, as I've had abusive relationships and people cheating on me, so I want to have a glimpse of my love life :')

(d) I feel like love is just caring for someone to the point that you feel their pain, happiness, sadness, and anger, and find yourself resonating and compiling with it... someone who's there for the whole rollercoaster, whether its romantic, platonic, friendship, or any other type of love

ofc I'll give feedback, and have a wonderful day!

Hello! Thank you for joining Your Entwined Bonds! Hope you're well 🐚 ✨

Danielle, your soul is graceful and swan-like. She has soft brown skin, doe-like brown eyes, dark hair and very bright aura. She is ethereal. The brightness of her aura isn't blinding but soft, like how the morning sun could be seen in its full radiance from behind lace curtains. Her energy feels like clam shells and pearls, it also reminds me of fresh cream and lace with how soft, smooth and fragrant her energy is. She has a very soft and gentle voice with a melodious quality. She has elegant demeanor, and when speaking she would nod her head and smile softly.

I asked if I could tap into her essence in order to give you more knowledge about her. She agreed. She was originally a creature borne by the lake, like an elemental being. There were vibrant red and pink flowers growing by the lake which she very much enjoyed. With time she gained a sense of self from being by the lake absorbing its natural essence. This is the origin of how she came to be.

Your soul's message to you

"Tell her I said hello. Tell her the world outside is tough, and to trust herself. Trust in your abilities even if you doubt. Find your inner balance. If anything, you're capable enough."

After your soul has imparted her message, I asked if she could lead the way to your romantic soulmate who missed you the most. She agreed, and gestured forward.

I bowed to her in gratitude, and walked along the direction she showed me. I didn't know where I was going but before long I came across a guy.

He has dark brown skin. Seems a bit goofy with his mannerisms because he has very expressive body language that shows just what he's thinking. He has a patient, casual voice that relaxes you and makes you laugh. His build looks between athletic and average, he's quite tall with broad shoulders. He looked lost and confused lol. He stopped walking when he saw me.

"Uh do you know what you're doing here?" I asked him.

"Yeah I'm," he said while looking back at your soul's direction. "I'm called for an interview?"

"Yeah, you're Danielle's soulmate right?"

"Yeah that's right."

"Would you like to tell Danielle your name?"

He told his name which I'll send to you in private. Names hold power and it's best not to share it in public.

As this conversation progressed like an interview, my questions would be in highlight.

What do you think about the past lives you shared with Danielle?

"They were challenging but introspective, we learned things about each other that we otherwise wouldn't be able to. Multi-perspective."

What's your perfect day like?

"Out spending time with myself, kayaking, camping under the stars, just doing my own thing. Might bring my dog. Ask Danielle to join me, if she will," he said those last three words softly, tenderly.

What's your favourite memory in your past lives with Danielle?

"Making popcorn, I remember it popped so hard it got onto her," he laughed. "Watching TV, movie nights. Holding hands. Her walking in front of me, it's like I could see only her, man. It's like she's a whole new world opening up to me and I could barely take my eyes off her. She's that special. And her being herself, throwing some tantrums. My baby and I always make up the very next day. Couldn't keep our hearts apart. I guess that's what love makes you."

How long ago was the popcorn past life?

"Very long ago, when we used to cook popcorn, when TV wasn't even in colour."

What movies did you both enjoy?

"Shark movies. Ophelia, there was a while where she particularly enjoyed Hamlet too."

What are the memories you believe Danielle needs to remember about her past lives with you?

"Remember the lessons we learned from it so that it won't be repeated."

What lessons did you learn from your past lives with her?

"That it's OK to just be alone. It's OK to do your own thing and not mind what others say."

What lessons do you think Danielle learned from her past lives with you?

"Not blame herself. Not carry that self blame and self doubt, or self hatred in her heart. Sometimes she gave in too much. She gave too much of herself away."

What is the common theme in your past lives with Danielle?

"Sharing each other's burdens. Camaraderie. We get each other. We know each other. We are like that missing jigsaw puzzle. We support each other." There were some lives in which you were not a couple but very close friends and you shared this kind of dynamic too.

Will you be meeting Danielle as your present incarnation?

"I certainly hope so," he said. Though he fears there would be a problem with time, like right place wrong time kind of thing. He said things like this cannot be predicted or controlled, you just live with it.

What is your present incarnation like?

"Unique, struggling to either fit it or stand out because he's so different from the others, alienated, has issues about self presentation and he just needs to figure it out with time and maturity because maturity is gathered with experience and insight." He could have a future as a performer or artist, it's his talent. He struggles with his own gender though, curious about being more female-leaning.

What message do you have for Danielle?

"It's OK to be alone. Seek help if you need. Don't be like bottled up." He really wished that you would ask for help when you need and not be averse to approaching others too.

What do you wish you could have done or done more with Danielle in your past lives?

"Cook food, try out new recipes, experiment with wild things, just totally let ourselves go, chase dreams,go on a yacht ride, go crazy!"

What are your parting words with Danielle?

He would like to sing you a lullaby so you'd sleep and that's how he's gonna slip away while you're sleeping peacefully. He wants you to know that the next time you see stars notice how bright they are because that's how much love he has for you. "Goodbye," he said, waving gently.

That's it! I hope this reading gave you insight, warmth and many happy feelings. Please remember to give feedback! Take care! Have a lovely day and a restful night.

[ehlenvs3000w24]

The Melodies of Nature (BLOG 7)

Hello everyone and once again, welcome to my nature blog! I am SO excited about this week's topic: music in nature and nature in music. As some of you may have read from my previous posts, I am someone who really enjoys spending time in nature and using its wonders to inspire my art. Growing up as a creative person, I took an interest in visual arts and dabbled in theatre, but my main passion is music. I learned to play guitar, ukulele, tenor saxophone, and my favourite instrument by far is my voice.

Whether it's classic choir pieces, musical theatre songs, or fun pop hits, I've always noticed most songs use nature as imagery and description for lyrics. Nature is in music is everywhere. So many music pieces use nature to connect the audience to an emotion that is trying to be delivered. For example, passion and intensity can be represented by relating to fire, a landslide, or thunder. An example of love or happiness could be described by the warm embrace of the summer sun. Nature also inspires writers to talk about places they've been, experiences in nature, or even tell fictional stories that would be deepened by describing the environment it's happening in. This in itself is a form of nature interpretation presentation, it allows for effective communication in an engaging way while also inspiring and encouraging others to be curious about what nature has to offer (Hooykaas, n.d). For me, there are certain songs that I correlate to nature and that help me remember experiences I've had in the outdoors. Music has such a strong connection to memory and emotion, it's not surprising that some of my favourite experiences at the cottage or the lake bring a few songs to my mind. One of these songs from way back in my childhood is “When the Night Feels My Song” by Bedouin Soundclash, and it's the first song that comes to mind when I think of nature and music. This song reminds me of getting up and going to summer camp, singing in your group, and going to play Manhunt in the forest. Every time I hear this song now it makes me think of hot summer days, hiding under trees from the sun after playing, and having the campfire smell linger on my clothes.

Take a listen to the music video of this awesome song:

Nature also has its own wonderful songs that weave its melodies through the world around us. From the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind to the powerful sounds of a thunderstorm, the sounds of nature inspire awe and wonder. There are so many examples of nature's sounds that bring us out into the outdoors to observe and listen to them. Nature's music inspires exploration and new opportunities for interpretation. An example of this in my life is the renowned songs of birds. Each species has its own unique melody, from the cheerful song of a robin to the haunting call of the loon. Humans tend to be drawn to the lovely songs of birds as they remind us of our own harmonies and melodies (Gray et al., 2001). Bird calls can be recognizable because they emulate our human musical scale and notes, and a species’ song can be sung in many ways using octaves to create harmonies (Gray et al., 2001). My early interest in birds came from positive memories of sitting outside watching them at my grandparent's house or hearing their calls while playing outside. Experiences like these spark interest in being out in nature. Some more of my favourite examples of awesome nature songs are calls of spring peeper frogs letting you know warmer weather is coming, they call all together in a chorus. I hope to hear from these little guys at my local pond soon, I'm ready for spring!

References:

Gray, P. M., Krause, B., Atema, J., Payne, R., Krumhansl, C., & Baptista, L. (2001). The music of nature and the nature of music. Science, 291(5501), 52–54. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.10.1126/science.1056960 

Hooykaas, A. (n.d.). Unit 07: Nature Interpretation through Music [Online Unit Notes]. ENVS3000 Nature Interpretation. University of Guelph. Available from: https://courselink.uoguelph.ca/d2l/le/content/858004/viewContent/3640021/View

[seffien]

You have cast the seeds of darkness in my mind, and am now trying to maximize the suffering in your Evil 4 AU. Have some food for thought.

The captain (Jun) is found barely alive by Marie (after nearly freezing to death *wink wink*)

Eight (Miko) and Callie have already left Alterna. Leaving Marie and Craig left to tend to a mute and dying Jun.

Eventually, she falls asleep in Marie's arms.

She'll never wake up.

Craig and Marie bury Jun right next to Four (Masu) and leave Alterna. They both agree to never tell Callie. Marie sees her come and go from their apartment, but they refuse to look at each other. She can sometimes hear her sobbing through the wall.

After packing what she owned from their shared apartment, (the unknowing last tenant) Miko eventually decides to return to Octo Valley. Wanting to return to the domes to help those in need. (to keep herself busy from the pain.) Before leaving she'll visit Masu's grave one last time.

Here, of course, she'll find Jun.

There is no poem, no second headstone. Just a cap and an extra mound.

Miko is overwhelmed with emotions. Particularly, rage. She trembles against the rushing thoughts filling her head, gripping her temples. First Masu, now Jun.

'She's killed someone again' she thinks.

Something inevitably gives.

She reaches out and pulls the charger out from the grave.

She's already made up her mind, all she has to do is find her.

you made me write all this, so don’t blame me if you get sad

---

The captain was strong. That's what she was supposed to be. She got here just by being strong, so she thought she was. Her mind, body, and soul were bound tightly. The world knocked her around since she was young, but she still perservered.

When Naoki died, that all came undone, and so did the team she was tasked to lead. Eight and Callie ended up leaving, Marie's mental health plummeted, and the latest recruit felt as if they were at the center of it all.

From then on, Alterna was a silent place. It wasn't uncommon for her to look around, catch a glimpse of Naoki's grave, and be reminded of everything. The depression she saw from her once-lively platoon, the way their usual behaviors stopped, the quiet atmosphere, and the way the picture-perfect platoon shattered.

And instead of doing anything, she essentially stood by and watched it happen.

Marie and Craig weren't here to convince her otherwise. Her mind was free to conjure up all the horrible words it wanted.

She didn't deserve to be the captain. All she did was sit around and watch the world go by. If she hadn't done that, then she wouldn't have ended up all alone.

Negative thoughts swarmed her mind as cold wind blew through Alterna. She stood and removed her tattered patchwork cloak. For once, she purposefully looked at the grave. Her shoes were left behind as she walked towards it. A grey sweater was tossed on the ground, and the captain finally settled down by Marie's charger.

When the numbness started, she closed her eyes. Happy memories of the NSS, full of smiling and laughter, filled her mind. Naoki was still here, and she'd see her soon.

——

Marie hurried to Captain, hauling the now unconscious squid onto her back. She began climbing the stairs of the large shelter just behind the camp.

"Open the door," she instructed her grandfather with a strained voice. "We have to get her inside, now!"

Though his dehydration took away most of his strength, he still had enough to do as she asked. Marie took her inside and threw her on the bed they had there. She frantically covered her up, then got an extra blanket to put on top. Craig moved by her bedside. Marie moved to the kitchen area.

The fridge’s lights buzzed as she checked to see if any suitable food was in there.

“What do you reckon we do?” asked Craig. “She probably won’t wake up for a while.”

“Oh, don’t say that. Get Callie and Eight over here and we’ll be fine…hopefully.”

Craig was handed her phone, and he used that to call Callie first. He input her phone number and clicked the call button. As the search for food continued, they both waited for her to pick up.

When she finally did, it gave them hope.

“Hey, it’s Callie! Sorry, but I can’t speak to you right now. I’m probably busy or something like that.” She giggled. “Leave a message after the beep. Bye!”

Unfortunately, that hope didn’t last long. Marie hung her head and sighed. Craig tried his best to pat her on the back.

“Let’s not give up so quickly, firefly. We still have Eight, don’t we?”

“I guess, but I don’t think she wants to speak to me. You still have your phone, right?”

He shook his head. “It’s probably somewhere up in the crater.”

“Well—”

“I’m not going to leave you.” He pointed to the Captain. “And I’m not leaving her either. You two seemed to get along before all this, so it wouldn’t hurt to call her.”

Reluctantly, Marie called Eight.

Again, they waited, but they didn’t have to for long.

“Hey, Marie. What is it?”

Though she sounded just as worn out as them, she was on the line, and that was what mattered.

“Eight! I was hoping you’d pick up.” She swallowed, choosing her next words carefully. “Listen, could you come down to Alterna and—”

A dial tone. Marie let go of her phone, letting it fall to the floor.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, shaking her head. She began pacing around the room. “What do we do, what do we do, what do we do…”

In her head, she went through all sorts of plans and scenarios. None of them seemed to work. They could get help if they told…

“Marie,” called Craig.

“Huh?”

“She’s awake.”

——

The captain tried to sit up, but Marie stopped her.

“No-no-no, you’re fine, you’re fine…”

It was clear—at least to Craig—that her lucidity was just about gone. His granddaughter stopped watching the captain’s every move to look at him.

“What should we feed her?”

“She doesn’t want food. She won’t even be awake long enough to eat.”

“…What?”

“She wants to rest, Marie. Let her.”

Her eyes widened. She rapidly shook her head. “You-you can’t mean—”

Captain grabbed her arm, snapping her out of her disbelief.

“M’rie,” she slurred.

“Yes?” She grabbed her face. “Yes, what is it?”

“Thank you,” she murmured, eyes beginning to close. “Thank you so much…”

The Captain fell asleep in Marie’s arms.

“Three?”

She shook her.

Nothing happened.

“Jun?”

Another shake.

“Junko! Junko, wake up, please!” Her breath became uneven as something dawned on her. “Please, please wake up.”

——

The pair stood over another mound right next to Naoki’s. Neither wanted to speak, but Craig still broke the silence.

“What now?”

“We leave. It’s over.”

“Do we tell—”

“No. This cannot get out, ever.”

A pause. Marie dropped the cap on the mound, then got rid of her jacket. She stuck her parasol between the two graves.

“It’s nighttime now,” said Craig. “If we were to leave, nobody would see us.”

“Yes,” agreed Marie. “Nobody would.”

Craig looked at the face of his granddaughter, who kept her eyes on the graves. Eventually, the weight of the situation got to her.

She collapsed to the ground and sobbed.

“I know, kid, I know,” muttered Craig. He watched with tired eyes as she continued to cry for a few minutes. Muffled wails of grief echoed through Alterna. Even when she was done, she didn’t get up.

She wiped at her eyes. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“I know,” he repeated.

“What are we going to do?”

“Just as you said.”

“Can we even move on?”

“Yes, we can. It’ll be hard, but you will get through this.”

“Wh-what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.”

She nodded with a smile, a real smile. “You’re right, Gramps. You will.”

——

Marie tried her best to live life like normal, but every time she saw Callie, guilt instantly overtook her. Throughout her entire life, she’d never seen her so sad. Her cousin tended to randomly stop and stand at places, arms at her sides. Other times, she’d come and go with no warning, refusing to ever look at her. As much as she wanted to talk to her, she couldn’t bring herself do. Words wouldn’t fix this. Nothing would.

When she went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, she could hear crying. When she woke up, she could hear crying. When she watched TV, she could hear crying. Turning up the volume did drown it out, but she knew it was there. She knew she was crying.

But what could she do?

Biting her tongue, she tried to keep her own tears at bay.

——

Emiko stretched after packing her bags. Just about everything she owned was split between a large backpack and a suitcase. For a while, she was planning on going to Octo Valley. Those still in the domes needed help she was more than happy to give.

Before she went, though, she decided to visit an old friend. When she walked out the door, she looked back one last time. Her imagination placed Masu and Junko on their only bed, their conversation inaudible. The girls looked up and waved with smiles, and as tears pricked her eyes, Emiko waved back.

Her heels clicked against metal stairs as she made her way down to the plaza. She looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then threw herself down the grate to Alterna.

The camp was eerily silent.

“Hello?” she called with nervous laughter. “Anyone here?”

Letting go of her baggage, she ambled forward. The tip of her heel dug into the ground, and she fell into the snow below. Shivering, she stood, only to see just who she had tripped over.

Another mound was in the ground, next to Naoki’s, The cap on it confirmed her worst fears. Her hands shook with fear as she started to cry from grief. From shock, she nearly fainted, and from all sorts of emotions, she broke. She gripped her temples, thoughts intruding.

“Not you, not you, not you,” she whispered.

She seized the charger, immediately turning it on herself. No matter how much she twitched and jolted and jerked, it wouldn’t fire.

When she lowered the weapon, she felt another emotion take over—rage.

That new recruit, she had done this. She killed Masu and got away with it, then killed the captain of the team. Instead of being punished like she deserved to be, the rest of the crew believed her sob story. This time, the aftermath would be different. This time, the new recruit’s actions would really have consequences.

She had everything she needed. She had a simple plan that would be easy to follow. She had a weapon, so all she needed was to find the new recruit—and she would.

Charger in hand, she set out to make things right.

[tricksters-captain]

Bucky Barnes imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 4

AN: What a crazy episode! I definitely think this episode was one of the best so far and I cannot wait to see what happens next after that insane ending!

Overall Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.  

In this chapter: Now in Latvia, you and the boys must find Karli before the Dora take Zemo away (Based on S1 EP4)

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3)

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 6,123

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 4, violence, strong language.

Once inside Zemo’s apartment, you started to look through the cupboards. 

Zemo had excused himself to take a bath but you felt starved. 

Even with the limited stock you managed to whip something up for you and Sam. 

“Thank you.” Sam took the bowl from you gratefully. The food Zemo had given you on his private plane wasn’t exactly edible and you were still feeling the affects of the Nagel fail in your body. 

“Well, the Wakandans are here.” Bucky announced as he entered the apartment; having returned from his walk. “They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.”

“”Were you followed?” Sam looked up at him. 

“No.” Bucky made his way over to you and Sam by the kitchen island. 

“How can you be so sure?” Zemo pondered. 

“Cause I know when I’m being followed.” Bucky sent an unimpressed glance to the man in the bathrobe. 

You pushed a bowl of pasta towards Bucky but he shook his head and pulled out his phone.

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.” Zemo stated. 

“Hey, you shut it.” Sam quipped. “No one’s defending you. You killed Nagel.” 

“You gotta eat.” You whispered to Bucky. 

“Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened?” Zemo rounded the island so he was closer to you all.

“I’ll eat later.” Bucky mumbled back to you as he furrowed his brow at twitter. 

“There’s nothing to litigate. You straight shot the man.” Sam argued with Zemo. 

“Sam.” Bucky had found something. 

“What?” Sam turned his attention to Bucky and away from Zemo. 

“Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.” Bucky showed you his phone screen so you could read.

“What? What’s the damage?” Sam’s concern grew quickly. 

“Eleven injured, three dead.” You said after skimming over the article. 

“They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.” Bucky added as Sam sighed. 

“She’s getting worse.” Zemo spoke up. “I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?”

“She’s just a kid.” Sam was right. She was only young, she reminded you of you when you first joined the avengers. Desperate to fight for a cause. 

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there.” Zemo disagreed. “You’re clouded by it. She’s a supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped aspiration that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.”

“You’re talking about our friends.” You felt the need to remind Zemo that you were actually apart of the Avengers as you placed your empty bowl in the sink. 

“The Avengers, not the Nazis.” Bucky felt the need to clarify. 

“So, Karli is radicalised, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.” Sam was determined there wasn’t a need for a fight. 

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her.” Zemo explained as he reached for the bowl you had originally offered Bucky. “Or she kills you.” 

You swatted his hand away to which he frowned at. 

“Maybe you’re wrong, Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve.” Bucky argued his point. 

“Touché.” Zemo picked up a biscuit instead. Holding it on his finger as he spoke. “But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

“Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.” Bucky suggested to you and Sam as he moved over to the couch. 

“And you’ll give up your tour guide?” Zemo asked as he opened the cupboards to look for some food. 

“Yes.” Bucky didn’t hesitate. 

“From my understanding, Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?” Sam interrupted with a new thought. “So, when I was a kid, my TT passed away.”

“Your TT?” Bucky asked, unsure of what Sam had meant. 

“Yeah, my TT, yeah.” Sam nodded. 

“Who is your TT?” Bucky asked as you sat down beside him. 

“Fine. When I was a kid, my aunt passed away and the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long. Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya.” Sam proposed. He could be right. 

“Worth a shot.” You proclaimed. 

“Your TT would be proud of you.” Zemo sounded more awkward at the use of the phrase before he pulled out a fancy looking tin. “Turkish delight? Irresistible.”

Sam caught the small sweet that Zemo had thrown. 

“I say Zemo put’s some clothes on and we head over to the refugee camp that Donya was staying. See if anyone knows anything about a funeral or ceremony for her.” You ignored Zemo as he looked down at the sweets. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Sam stood from his seat at the island and looked over at Zemo. 

Zemo nodded before disappearing into a bedroom to change. 

It didn't take long to get to the camp from Zemo’s apartment. 

“Shame what’s become of this place. When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful.” Zemo seemed saddened by the state of the buildings being used as the camp. 

“I’m gonna take a look around upstairs. See what you can find out here. And keep an eye on him.” Sam told Bucky as he gestured to Zemo. 

“I’ll stay out of your way.” Zemo promised. 

“(Y/n), you look around through there. See if you can... You know.” Sam pointed down through one of the ground floor doors. You nodded and left the men.

Most of the adults fled when you entered the building but you noticed a young girl who looked too busy with what she was doing to notice. She had looked maybe 16 or 17 years old and she was embroidering an old silk scarf. 

“That’s beautiful.” You knelt down beside her but as you spoke, her eyes shot up and widened with shock and fear. 

“T-t-thank you.” She stuttered as her eyes flittered around the room for help. 

“It’s okay. I was just wondering if I could have a look at it.” You smiled softly at the girl as you held your hand out. 

She reluctantly gave it to you. 

“This truly is beautiful. You are very talented. May I buy it from you?” You placed your hand in your pocket and pulled out a note that you had previously stolen from Zemo’s jacket.

“You c-c-can have it.” She whispered as she stood. You rose with her as you folded the scarf to place into your pocket. 

“I insist.” You took her hand gently and cautiously and placed the money in her palm. She smiled but she still was nervous and full of worry. You figured she knew who you were. 

You folded your hands over hers and that’s when you unplugged the cork on your powers. 

You closed your eyes and within seconds all the girls memories flooded into your head. 

You tried not to react as it happened. 

You tried your best to filter through the memories quickly. When you reached the time after the blip, you slowed down. You saw the horrors of them being rejected, being abandoned and then you saw Mama Donya and Karli. 

You focused on Karli. 

You watched Karli smile and laugh with all the children, she’d play and look after them as Donya looked after Karli. 

Closer memories brought what seemed like events that only just happened. Karli visiting with supplies. 

You saw the mourning of Mama Donya from everyone and then you saw the arrangements for the funeral. 

You opened your eyes and let go of the girls hand. She thanked you again and left. She would have never realised what you had seen as the memories are shown to you within a matter of seconds. 

You leant against the table and inhaled deeply. 

You felt weak again. 

You pushed yourself off the table and headed back out to Bucky. 

Zemo was surrounded by a bunch of small children.

“You okay?”Bucky asked. The second you reappeared he immediately noticed a change in you. 

“I’m okay.” You lied. “I spoke to one of the teenagers inside. I looked inside her head. You were right, Sam. They are having a funeral but she only knew that she would be taken to it later this afternoon.” You explained as Sam joined you both. 

“Good work.” Sam wrapped his arm around you and gave you a small squeeze of appreciation. 

They both knew how hard it must've been for you to use your powers after the Nagel incident. 

The toll of touching the dead had knocked you for six in the past and in a matter of forty eight hours you had touched the dead and looked into the memories of a live person. 

You’ll need an energy boost before you can do this again. 

Zemo turned back to you and you all returned to the apartment. 

“Well, I got nothin’. No one’s talkin’ about Donya.” Bucky slouched down on the couch in defeat. 

“Yeah, it’s because Karli is the only one fighting for them.” Sam joined him on the couch. “And she’s not wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked. 

“For five years, people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbwire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together, it was the entire world coming together. And then, boom. Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them, at least Karli’s doin’ somethin’.” Sam explained himself. 

“You really think her ends justify her means? Then, she’s no different than him or anybody else we’ve fought.” Bucky pointed over to Zemo. 

“She’s different. She’s not motivated by the same things.” Sam argued with Bucky.

“Sam’s right.” You spoke up. “When I looked into that girls head I saw a lot of Karli. She means a lot to those people, she is their light, their Captain America. But she’s just a kid. From what I saw she has a whole lot of love in her heart and I'm not saying that hurting and killing people is right but she sees it as the only way to help her people.” 

Zemo had walked over from the kitchen with a tray as you spoke. 

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky questioned him. 

“The funeral is this afternoon.” Zemo only said what you already knew. 

“We know that. Now you know the Dora’s coming for you any minute. In fact, they’re probably lurking outside right now. Keep talking.” Bucky demanded. 

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli. Hmm. I prefer to keep my leverage.” Zemo sure knew how to push someone’s buttons. 

Bucky shot up and threw Zemo’s cup against the wall. The crashing of the glass made both you and Sam jump to your feet. 

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Bucky threatened Zemo. 

“Take it easy. Don’t engage him. He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.” Sam tried to de-elevate the situation. “Let me make a call.”

“You want some cherry blossom tea?” Zemo offered Bucky as Sam walked away.

“No, you go ahead.” Bucky grumbled, scowling at the Baron. 

“Come on.” You took Bucky’s hand and pulled him away from Zemo. 

You headed into the bathroom and started to fill up the tub with some cold water. 

“Will you get me some ice?” You asked Bucky to which he complied. 

Once the tub was full of ice water, you stripped and climbed inside. 

Bucky had taken a stool and faced the door to give you some privacy. 

“You shouldn’t let him get to you.” You said as you settled into the water. Your body was screaming at you as the ice touched it but you knew it’d give you the wake up call you and your muscles needed. 

“I don’t.” Bucky grimaced. 

“You don’t? Oh, so the shattered cup in the other room was just a scare tactic?” You mused. 

“Yep.” Bucky grumbled. 

“Okay.” You sighed before going under. 

The cold water hit your brain and you immediately sat back up. 

“Feel better?” Bucky had heard the splashing of the water. 

“Yeah.” You admitted, running your hands over your face and hair. “Can I have my towel?”

Bucky kept his back to you as he passed you the towel. 

You wrapped it around you and stepped out. 

“You can look.” You told him.

Bucky turned and his eyes went straight to the bruises that covered your legs and arms. 

“I’m okay, Buck.” You assured him as you watched the cogs turning in his head. 

“I forget you aren’t...” Bucky’s words dropped off as he stepped closer and lightly took your arm, examining the damage. 

“That I’m not a super soldier?” You smirked. “I may bruise but I can hold a lot more than most, Buck.” 

“Doesn’t stop me worrying.” Bucky admitted as he lowered your arm. 

“I know.” You whispered, looking up at the man’s deep blue eyes.

“You better get dressed. You already know what Sam is thinking with us both being gone right now.” Bucky went to go towards the door when you stopped him. 

“I had a dream about Wakanda on the plane ride here.” You confessed. 

Bucky stopped and looked back at you. 

“It was the day you finally beat the Winter Soldier.” You told him. 

*Flashback*

“These are incredible, Shuri.”  You smiled widely as you threw the new high tech Vibranium knives that Shuri had made for you. 

“I know. I know.” Shuri was well aware of her awesome brain. 

Shuri pressed the combat button on the wall which simulated attackers for intense weapon training. 

You inhaled as you closed your eyes. 

A footstep gave away your first attacker. You threw the knives to the holograms and the attackers were down. You ducked and dodged and jumped around the room as you practised with the knives. 

Shuri cheered you when you finished. You smiled through your heavy breaths and Shuri jogged towards you to give you a fist bump. 

“You are something else, my friend.” Shuri praised you. 

The doors opening behind you made both you and Shuri turn to see who had entered. 

It was Bucky. 

He rushed towards you with a bright smile. His lips seemed to quiver and his eyes were glassy. Something had happened. 

It had happened.

He embraced you tightly and you returned it. Your fingers gripped onto Bucky’s long hair as he buried his face in your neck. 

You looked back at Ayo (who had followed Bucky) and Shuri and mouthed a ‘Thank you’. 

Ayo bowed her head at you before leaving the hall. 

Bucky had finally gotten over HYDRA’s programming after all these years of being held prisoner by a few words. 

You and Bucky stayed like that for what felt like hours. The relief from Bucky washed over you and bound him to you until he was ready to part. 

It was an incredible day.

*End of Flashback*

“Maybe you could sense that the Dora’s were close on our tails.” Bucky suggested. 

“No, we all knew that they’d come for Zemo eventually.” You dismissed the idea. “I think it was after seeing Zemo treat you like him again.” 

Bucky remained silent. 

“I don’t think I ever told you how proud I was of you that day.” You folded your arms over your chest as you leant back on the tub.

“You didn't need to.” Bucky assured you. “I already knew.” 

You watched Bucky leave the bathroom so you could change. 

When you had returned to the main space again it was just about time to head out again. 

You felt a little nervous as you didn’t really want a fight with Karli since you weren’t 100% but you figured you had felt a hell of a lot worse before.

As you left the apartment, a voice and face you didn’t particularly wanna see called out. 

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” John Walker and his little side kick were walking down some stairs towards you. 

“Ah! How’d you find us now?” Bucky called back. 

“Come on. You think three Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Lemar, Walker’s partner, scoffed. 

“No more keeping us in the dark. You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.” Walker pointed out Zemo. 

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky corrected Walker.  

“This better be an unbelievable explana––”

“––Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.” Sam interrupted Walker before things could get heated in front of civilians.

“I know where Karli is.” Zemo kept walking as the others stopped. 

“Well, where?” Walker asked, stopping Zemo by stepping in his way. 

“All we know is it’s a memorial. So, we’re gonna intercept her there.” Sam informed them.

“That means civilians. High risk of casualties.” Lemar relaid to his partner as you continued to walk.

“All right, good, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.” Walker started to talk through his plan when Sam stopped him. 

“No, I wanna talk to her alone.”

“I’m not losing her again.” Walker argued with Sam. 

“Look, the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable. Now is the best time to reason with her.” Sam was trying to defend his reasoning but Walker wasn’t having it. 

“What? No. Wait, no! No! Stop. Hold on. Stop, okay?” Walker ran up ahead to stop everyone again. “I think we’re way past reasoning with her, unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.” 

“Sam, you walk in there cold, she could kill you, man.”Lemar tried backing up his partner. 

“If I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die.” Sam handed over the other scenario. 

“You’ll let him do this?” Walker looked between you and Bucky. “Are you gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone?”

“He’s dealt with worse.” Bucky told him flatly. “And he’s not my partner.”

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay? This is in my wheelhouse.” Sam walked past you and Bucky to face Walker.

“I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this is a bad idea.” Walker still wasn't on board. 

“Wait, John.” Lemar stopped Walker.  “If he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.”  

“Thank god Battle-scar here has some sense.” You declared. 

“It’s Battle Star actually.”Lemar smiled at you but you ignored him. 

“We’ll deal with you later.” Walker told Zemo as he caved in.

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.” Zemo lead you towards the young girl he had spoken to earlier that day. 

“Hello, my friend. This is for your family. Can you show us the way?” Zemo handed her some money and the girl beckoned for you all to follow.  

“What the hell?” Walker seemed a little confused by Zemo’s ‘associate’ being 12.

The girl lead you to the building where the funeral was being held and you all waited for a signal. 

“Karli’s in there.” Zemo announced as the girl ran off. 

Sam went in whilst Walker cuffed Zemo. 

“You got 10 minutes. Then we are doing things my way.” Walker told Sam before he left. 

“Aggressive.” Zemo mumbled after being handcuffed. “But I get it.”

You rolled your eyes subtly at both Walker and Zemo. 

You took up a position by the door with Bucky. 

You watched Walker sit down, his grip on the shield was tight as he slowly huffed in and out. 

You frowned as you studied the man. Your eyes glanced over to Zemo who was also watching Walker. 

You shared a look before you let your eyes fall back down to your feet.  

“Uh-uh. No, no, no. This is a bad idea.” Walker started to pace as he let his impatience get the best of him. 

“It hasn’t been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight.” Bucky sighed unimpressed by the young solder. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronise me.” Walker glared back at Bucky. 

“Sam knows what he’s doing.” You backed Bucky up. 

You all watched Walker stop as he thought. His heavy breathes causing his chest to rise up and down quickly. 

“I’m goin’ in.” Walker didn’t want to listen anymore. He stormed towards the door but both you and Bucky stepped in his way.

“This is all really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” Walker didn’t even look at you as he squared up to Bucky. 

That really bothered you.

You took hold of the man’s upper arm and yanked him to look at you. 

“You may be Captain America right now but we don’t follow you. We said we’d give him 10 minutes. So, he’s getting 10 minutes.” You glowered at the man. 

“Your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?” Walker leant towards you, trying to be intimidating but it wasn’t working. 

“Just wait.” You looked the man in the eye with a subtle threat in your stare. His jaw clenched as he tugged his arm away from you. 

Walker went back to look at the clock again. 

After a couple more minutes, he tried once more. 

“Time’s up! Our turn.” Walker didn’t hesitate to push past you as he charged ahead. 

Bucky kept his tongue in his cheek as he watched it happen. 

You and Bucky stayed behind Walker and his partner as they marched ahead.

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest.” Walker announced as he entered the room. 

“This is what that was?” Betrayal flashed across Karli’s face as she looked at Sam. 

“No, wait––” Sam didn’t have a chance now that Walker had intervened.

“––Tricking me until help came?” Karli started to back away. 

“We had enough time to talk.” Walker exclaimed as he headed straight for Karli. 

“Nazi! “ Karli wasn't going the easy way. She hit Walker back and he went straight into a table. 

Lemar tried to keep you and Bucky back but you had easily managed to get round him to chase after Karli. 

Bucky being what he was managed to get ahead of you but you were close on their trail. 

Sam had found his own way but ultimately you all lost Karli. 

“I lost her.” Bucky sighed.

“This place is a maze.” Sam looked around at the several doorways with a frown. 

The sound of gunshots is what caught your attention next. 

“Come on.” You rushed through the building trying to get to the source. 

You didn’t manage to get there before Walker did. 

Zemo was unconscious on the floor and vials of the serum were smashed around the concrete floor. 

“What happened?” You asked as you looked down at the mess. 

“He was shooting at Karli. I stopped him but she got away.” Walker lifted his shield a little to symbol how he had stopped Zemo. 

“Let’s get him up.” Sam started down the stairs and you followed. 

Zemo woke up after a little encouragement and some smelling salts. You had decided it was best if you split up on your way back to the apartment. 

You and Sam were going to stay with Zemo and see if you can dig up anything on socials and the computer and Bucky was going to do a round and see if she had holed up anywhere familiar. 

Sam sat at his computer, he was contacting Sharon whilst you stood with your phone searching Twitter to see if any Flag Smashers appearances or Karli were popping up in recent tweets. 

Zemo laid down on the couch with a wet towel and a strong glass of scotch. 

“You got anything?” Sam asked you. 

“Nothing. I don’t think we’ll find her this time if she doesn’t want us too.” You put your phone down in defeat. It wasn't usual for people to give her Karli’s location anyway. 

“I think you’re right.” Sam hated to agree but this was the first time you had come close to actually talking Karli down and it failed. 

“And now with the serum’s gone. Who knows what her next move will be.” You knew that Karli didn’t have the option to create more super soldiers now and that gives her a disadvantage. The idea of an army is gone now and she would only have her current foot soldiers to help her. 

Zemo moved for the first time in ten minutes as he lifted his cold compress. 

“Were you ever offered it?" He asked aloud. 

“What?” Sam furrowed his brow at the man. 

“The serum.” Zemo replied. 

“No.” Sam smirked at the idea. 

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?” Zemo inquired. 

“No.” Sam answered instantly, his smile dropping. 

“No hesitation. That’s impressive.” Zemo nodded before removing his towel. “Sam. (Y/n). You can’t hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?” Sam queried. “And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?” There was a silence from Zemo. “Blood isn’t always the solution.” 

Before the conversation could continue, the door opened and Bucky strode inside.

“Something’s not right about Walker.” Bucky stated as he removed his jacket. 

“You don’t say.” Sam huffed with amusement. It was clear as day that Walker was at his wits end with the pressure on him.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.” Bucky poured himself a glass of whiskey. You rolled your eyes at his statement. 

“Can’t argue with that.” Sam retorted. 

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.” Bucky was back on this topic again. 

“I didn’t give him the shield.” Sam rose to his feet to face Bucky.

“Well, Steve definitely didn’t.” Bucky sipped on his drink just as the doors flew open. 

All right. That’s it. Let’s go. I’m now ordering you to turn him over.” Walker commanded, his face red and his ears steaming. 

“Hey, slow your roll. Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth. Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’ll need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.” Sam approached Walker to try and pump his breaks. 

“How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam, huh?” Walker chuckled softly as Sam remained silent. “Yeah. Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head at the man’s antics. 

Walker put down the shield but the only thing flying next was a spear that struck the pillar by Walker’s head. 

It was the Dora Milaje. 

They had come for Zemo. 

From your time in Wakanda you understood the language as Ayo spoke to Bucky. 

“Even if he is a means to an end. Your time is up.” Ayo reverted back to English. “Release him to us now.” 

Walker introduced himself to Ayo, not that she cared for him.

“Well let’s, uh, put the pointy sticks down and we can talk this through, huh?” Walker suggested, only to be met, yet again, by silence from the Dora’s.

“Hey, John, take it easy. You might wanna fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.” Sam tried to warn him but he wasn’t backing down. 

“They don’t have jurisdiction here––”

“––The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.” Ayo cut Walker short. 

“Okay.” John chuckled lightly. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Walker made the mistake of putting his hand on Ayo’s shoulder. 

Ayo responded with an attack. 

The surrounding Dora’s fell into defence positions as Ayo and Walker fought.  Lemar bounced into action, trying to help his partner out but it only warranted in more fighting. Or more asses getting kicked by the Dora Milaje. 

“We should do something.” Sam said as you, him and Bucky stood together watching. 

“Looking strong, John.” Bucky called out. 

“Bucky!” You tried not to laugh as you scolded the man. 

“Guys...” Sam nodded to Ayo about to strike John with her spear which made Bucky reluctantly intervene. 

“Ayo, let’s talk about this.” Bucky only landed himself directly in the mess. 

You realised how serious this was as Ayo didn’t hold back and went ahead to help Bucky. Sam went over to help Lemar but was met by more Dora's.

You grunted as one of the women attacked you. You had almost forgotten just how incredible they were at combat. Almost. 

You were backed against a wall with the spear to your chest when the room fell silent. 

You looked over at Bucky to see his arm was on the floor. 

You wanted to move towards him but you were stuck until orders were given to release you. 

“He is gone. Leave it.” Ayo had opened the bathroom doors to reveal the manhole had been opened. Zemo had escaped. 

You were trying to slow your breathing when finally the Dora’s fell back. 

She retracted her spear and left with Ayo and the others. 

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asked Bucky as he pushed himself off the floor. 

Bucky reattached his arm. He groaned as he swung it round to adjust it. 

“No.” He said but the shock on his face from before had already given away that answer. 

You looked past Bucky to where Walker was still on the floor. 

“You all right, man?” Lemar offered his hand to help him up. 

“They weren’t even Super Soldiers.” You heard Walker mutter. 

“Come on.” Lemar tugged him to his feet. 

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.” Sam walked over to the bathroom and stared at the hole. 

“I can.” Bucky wasn’t really that surprised and neither were you truthfully. 

“Come on.” You beckoned the boys out of the apartment so you could talk. 

You got down to the streets and away from Walker before you spoke again. 

“Walker isn’t stable. He’s on the brink of cracking.” You kept your voice low as you spoke to the boys. 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. 

“We may not like him but he’s not stupid. He knows that he can’t be Steve, do the things Steve did and it’s killing him. He's so obviously trying to win this fight by himself and it’s going to drive him insane if he isn’t the one to beat Karli.” 

“But he can’t beat Karli. You saw her kick him across the room like he was a cardboard box.” Sam reminded you of what happened earlier. 

“We have to get to Karli before he does because he’s either gonna stop her or kill himself trying.” You weren't worried for the man but worried about what would happen if he finally snapped. 

Suddenly, Sam’s phone started to ring. It was his sister. 

“She said what? Right. Hold on, hold on. I know, I know. Listen, pack an overnight bag and take the boys...” Sam sounded worried. 

“What happened?” Bucky asked. 

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Sam told you both. “Okay. Go somewhere safe. Only pay cash. All right? Tell me when you arrive. I know. Look, I love you. I’ll never let anything happen to you and the boys. Okay. Bye.” He hung up and then immediately texted an unknown number. 

“What does she want?” You knew Karli was desperate but threatening kids was a different story.

“Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number.” Sam’s phone buzzed with a new text. “She said come alone.”

“We’re coming with you.” Bucky wasn’t going to take no for an answer. 

“Alright but keep your distance.” Sam didn’t bother to fight you on it. “We better suit up.” 

You suited up by adding a few more weapons to your body. You placed your favourite thigh holsters on that held your Vibranium knives out on display. 

Sam got his wings and soon you were at the location. 

“Karli!” Sam bellowed as you entered the building. 

Karli leant over a balcony to make herself seen. You remained on the ground floor but looked up at the girl. Bucky followed Sam. 

“You called my sister? That’s how we’re gonna play this?” Sam was upset and understandably so. 

“Sam, I would never hurt her. I just wanted to understand you better.” Karli confessed.“I see you, um, didn’t come alone.”Karli peered down at you then up at Bucky. 

“You have to end this now.” Sam told her. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re a tool in the regimes I’m looking to destroy. You’re not hiding behind a shield. If I were to kill you, it’d be meaningless. I was gonna ask you to join me. Or do the world a favour and let me go.” Karli spoke pretty boldly for someone who seemed to be alone. Super Soldier or not. 

“Hey, Sam, new Cap is moving, looks like he’s found them, or maybe they found him.” Sharon’s voice came through on Sam’s intercom. 

“It’s Walker.” Sam looked down at you and then Bucky. 

Karli jumped from the balcony at the realisation the jig was up but Bucky was quick to jump too. 

Karli kicked Bucky back but you managed to weaken Karli as you flipped over and kicked her in the jaw. 

Sam put her down momentarily as he flew down and kicked her also. 

“I’ll send you the location. Go!” Sam ordered both you and Bucky before he took off. 

You knew Bucky would be fast enough to run there but you didn’t have that luxury. 

You crossed the street to a parked motorbike and opened up it’s wiring. Just as you managed to get it running, Sam’s coordinates came through. 

You docked your phone and set off. 

You dodged through the narrow streets and traffic to arrive at another large building. Karli must have a favour for buildings you could get lost in. 

You drove through the doors and skidded to a stop. 

Bucky had gotten there before you. You could hear his grunts from a flight or two up. 

You raced up them only to be met by a super soldier fighting Bucky. 

You sent a knife forward, it embedded itself into the man’s soldier, he cried out which gave Bucky some time to throw him down the stairs. 

You tucked up, over the tumbling body, holding onto the railing and the wall. 

Bucky jumped over the rails and with one final blow knocked the soldier unconscious. 

“Stay there.” Bucky told him before climbing back up to you. He thanked you for the help, handing you back the knife that had been in the man’s shoulder. 

You then both went ahead to find Sam and Walker. 

They were fighting more super soldiers a floor up. 

You didn’t hesitate to go in for the attack.

You pulled a knife and threw it to Bucky for help; he caught it midair. 

You screamed with frustration as the soldier you were fighting, pulled your arm behind you and slammed you into the pillar. You managed to swivel around, taking out the soldiers legs as you freed your arm. 

You threw a knife into both his biceps. You only intended to injure, not kill, them anyway. 

He groaned as he pulled them and tried to use them against you. 

All at once, the fighting stopped when you all witnessed Karli kick Lemar into one of the concrete pillars. 

Lemar’s body slumped down with blood painted across his lips. 

John broke free from his attacker and slowly made his way over to Lemar. 

From the sight of the body, you already knew he wasn’t walking out of there. 

Walker desperately tried to wake him up. 

That’s when Karli took her chance to flee. 

You and the boys took off after her but lost her again pretty quickly. 

When you rounded the building, you saw a crowd gathering. 

What you saw next made you feel psychically sick. 

John Walker stood above Karli’s right hand man, blood splattered up Steve’s shield and across his uniform. 

He had killed the man in front of all these civilians. He had killed a man as Captain America. 

(PART 5 HERE)

Bucky Barnes Tag List

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[ynscrazylife]

Hiya! Congrats on 1000!❤️❤️ I was wondering if I could request something with Annabeth Chase x Fem!Reader. Maybe instead of Percy being the one to dissappear in the The Lost Hero / The Son of Neptune maybe it's the reader, and Annabeth is desperate to find her girlfriend? It's okay if you don't write this!❤️❤️ Again, congrats on 1000!❤️

Where Are You? | a.c angst fic

Summary: Annabeth worries for her girlfriend who mysteriously disappeared.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @sybil-moon-is-a-mess @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes

PJO Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @marauderenergy @thewidowsghost @kidswhofightmonsters

A/N: Thank you so much!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here!

PJO Masterlist | Main Masterlist

header c @simonferracora on twitter

(Image ID: The header has a grey background. There’s a picture of a blonde girl sitting on some rocks, back to the camera and looking out on the ocean. To the left is black text going vertically saying “Annabeth”. On the right are two smaller pictures, together they match the size of the blonde girl picture. The top picture is a stack of books and the bottom is architecture. On the right to pictures there’s black text saying “Chase”. End ID)

“You’re not very talkative tonight,” Annabeth observed as she and Y/N sat in the Strawberry Fields, watching the beautiful sunset and the gorgeous pinks and yellows and reds paint a masterpiece on the sky, making the puffy, white, clouds pop. 

Y/N chuckled, leaning her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. Annabeth tightened her grip around her. “I’m happy the battle is over, but it tired me out,” she murmured. 

Annabeth hummed in understanding. “Well, you did very great. I’m so proud of you,” she said softly, making Y/N smile, and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

The two women sat for almost 30 more minutes in silence, save for the occasional comment or two, and watched the sunset. Y/N was beyond happy to be in Annabeth’s arms, finding her such a comforting and safe space. It just reminded Y/N of how in love she was.

Eventually they knew they had to get back to their cabins (which neither were happy to leave each other). They stood up and Annabeth walked Y/N back to her cabin, before they shared a kiss goodnight and Y/N disappeared into her cabin, with Annabeth walking to hers.

The next morning, when Y/N didn’t show up for breakfast, Annabeth assumed she had just overslept, for she did mention she was tired the previous night. After the blonde finished her food, she grabbed a plate and carried it over to Y/N’s cabin, but was alarmed to see that Y/N was nowhere in sight. Telling herself not to panic, Annabeth asked a few of Y/N’s half-siblings if they had seen her, and all of them said they hadn’t seen her since last night. 

At that moment, Annabeth officially allowed herself to panic. She searched the entire camp twice, asked the dryads and Y/N’s friends if they’d seen her, everyone said no. She finally told Chiron that they had a missing camper and search parties were sent out, but no one could find any trace of Y/N. It was as if she had just popped out of camp, but to where? And what if she was in danger? 

These were the thoughts keeping Annabeth up at night. She was terrified of what - or who - could have happened to her, and she conjured up images in her head of Y/N being In danger or hurt or scared or confused and Annabeth being unable to be there for her. It made the daughter of Athena feel so utterly helpless that she didn’t know where Y/N was and that they had no leads or theories that might actually lead them to her or what could have happened. 

It didn’t help when not long after, a Demigod showed up with amnesia. Annabeth was too worried over Y/N to consider that maybe the two events were related, and with her non-stop interrogation of campers, going over and over the last time she had seen Y/N in case she could find any clues, and how much research and theorizing she was doing, her friends knew they needed to help her. Convincing Annabeth to actually get some sleep and not to miss out on every meal of the day to work on finding Y/N proved difficult, but eventually they were able to persuade her, with Percy promising her that he’d ask his dad if he knew anything from the other Gods or if they could help, and them pointing out to her that being sleep deprived wouldn’t help Y/N, and she wouldn’t want Annabeth to be neglectful of taking care of herself. 

Every day Annabeth would hound Percy on if he got any answers, and he was quite patient, sympathizing with the pain he was going through. Eventually he got an answer. It was vague, but it gave them a hint: Hera had acted strangely when Poseidon had asked about Y/N’s disappearance. 

Annabeth was happy that they had gotten a now semi-solid lead but also downright furious at Hera. She would have stormed to Mount Olympus and burst down their doors had not Percy and Grover stopped her. She did get Percy to convince his dad to help and to get Chiron to help. Annabeth ended up going to Mount Olympus and quickly got into an argument with Hera, and the Goddess let something key slip: “If you continue I’ll do much worse than take away her memory!” 

The gods talked to Hera (more like pressured her into telling the truth) and eventually she admitted what she had done: kidnapped Y/N and Jason, took away their memories, and switched them in their camps. From that moment on, Annabeth and her friends worked on restoring Jason’s memory and finding out where Y/N was. 

The moment she arrived at Camp Jupiter and saw her girlfriend, standing with Frank and Hazel, tears streamed down her face. She was so unbelievably relived and glad to see her girlfriend, and ran as fast as her legs could carry her, almost tackling Y/N to the ground with the force of her hug. 

“Hi, Anna,” Y/N murmured, wrapping her arms around Annabeth tighly, leaning her head against the blonde’s shoulder. 

A warmth spread through Annabeth when Y/N used that nickname before she pulled back and cupped Y/N’s cheeks in her hands, giving her a soft yet powerful and meaningful kiss. Y/N wrapped her arms around Annabeth, pulling her close, not caring how many Greek and Roman Demigods were watching.

[han-shinsuke]

k o z u m e k e n m a

🔞🔞🌹🌹🌹

•f o r n i c a t i o n•

••••

If you ask people what it means to love and be loved, the answers you will get would be different, the luckiest ones would answer with positiveness, and those who had experienced afflictions and mishaps would probably tell you how painful and cruel love could be. Let's admit it, not all of us were made for love. And worst, there were instances where some of us were just born to carpet-bomb the person we love.

Love could build possibilities but it could also be the very source of our self-destruction.

“Aah~ there ‘yah go, Y/N~” for love, I can do things I never imagined I could. I would run miles for him. Burn bridges for him. Turn ideas into possibilities.

BE THAT ‘SOMEONE’ HE WISHES TO HAVE.

Believe me. Once you finished a day full of pretensions and lies, you’d end up asking yourself, ‘how long do you plan to be someone else's puppet?’

“Ken, do you feel good?” for love, his satisfaction shall always comes first on the line. Mine is the least important.

Kenma pulls me up from the marbled floor of his bedroom, gaze stained with lust. His fingers wiping the semen off the corner of my mouth. My body is still trembling from the activities earlier. I must keep up. He's not satisfied yet. He needed more. I shall do more for him.

Those orbs leered my face for minutes. Kenma answers, “yeah, you? still sore down there?” his gaze went down to what’s between my bite-marked thighs. He caresses my reddened knees. A familiar thin smile is plastered on his lips.

My breath got caught up in my throat when he slid a finger in my dampness before putting it inside his mouth and slurped the essence in it. The memory of what we've had done earlier flashes in my mind. Kenma splayed my legs in the camp site. I was pushed down on top of a picnic table, clothes discased. The wind was cold during sunset from the lakeside. Kenma was enjoying it. Who am I to stop him? He railed me from behind. Like how he prefers it.

“Y/N, lay down for me.” still trembling, I climbed up on his bed, ready to lay on my stomach.

For love, there's nothing I wouldn't do for him.

Kenma snakes his arms around my belly, stopping me from setting down completely.

“What it is, Ken?” My breathing’s rag from all the pounding and legs flipping.

“Lay on your back, Y/N.” I was moving very slow so he helped me out. He placed me on the bed, facing him. Kenma tied his long hair. Spreading my legs wide, I put my palms on his chest, head shaking.

“You don’t have to do this, Ken.” It’s part of the set up. He would fxck me only from behind. He would fxck me but I could never get to kiss him on the lips. He would fxck me, not LOOKING at my face for I am not the woman he dreamt of doing ‘it’ with.

He can’t have her right now but soon, he will. I’m just that sick in the head college girl who have been in love with his seatmate since freshman year.

You see, I am more like of a practice ground for him.

“I want to do it this way. Allow me.” He pins my hands above my head, nodding his head as if he's telling me it’s fine.

“Kenma~” I called out his name when his thing slid inside my sore womanhood for the nth time today.

Kenma hums in my neck, rocking me in slow pace. Our fingers intertwined. My body arching up occasionally whenever that ‘thing’ stretches my rim really good.

The bed just won't stop creaking just like how my heart won't stop from beating wild inside my chest whenever he tries to kiss me on the lips.

Don't, Kenma. Don’t break your own rules. I can't let that happen. It's a complete hypocrisy if I tell that I don't wish to be kissed by those lips. I long for it.

“D–Don’t.” My head turned to the other direction, avoiding his seeking lips. It hit my neck. He wanders his warmth there. Tongue gliding the bulging veins due to his slow but heavy pumping.

Sex is tiring. It really is. But it’s Kenma Kozume. I can still go on.

“Why won’t you let me kiss your lips, Y/N?” he stops moving, burying his weight on me. Kenma grabbed my face.

“Rule number 8. Kenma won't kiss the woman he don’t love.” for him, I won't cry. I won't cry. I lied. I was crying as I reminded him of his own rule. “I’m not her, Ken. I’m not the woman you love so don't kiss me.”

“Rule number 13. Kenma is allowed to break rule number 8.”

It was sweet. It was euphoric. A kind of kiss anyone would dream to experience.

And it tasted like sin. The way his lips glides against mine. The way his tongue tastes each corners. The way he nibbles both upper and bottom lip. Those are the ways I imagine if he would kiss me.

Those aren't ideas anymore. He had let me experienced how it feels like to be kissed by him. By the man I truly love.

“Hold on baby~ Hold on~” Kenma picked where we left off. He pulled. He dig. He buried.

And he kisses me. Repeatedly. While I am crying. While I'm holding out the sob that tries escaping my lips.

•••

5:12 AM

I woke up clean and dressed with Kenma's clothes. Last night was a chaos. I was forced to my limits. He took me in every positions he’d known. My cries and pleads were all useless. He didn't listen. He had done everything he pleased.

I sighed as I climbed down from the bed. Picking my bag and my discarded uniform from last night, another sigh rolls out from my mouth. I caught a glimpse of my reflection from the mounted mirror on the wall. I look tired and ugly. What a pity.

Kenma is probably out somewhere, thinking about his princess. He has habits of leaving me right after we had sex. I’m used to it anyway. I put face powder on my face and tied my messy curls.

This will be the end of our set up. He broken his rules. Our rules. Rule number 1. Broke any rule and it's over.

I texted Kenma and said my goodbye. He did not reply. Maybe he's smoking right now. Another habit of him, throwing his iphone at the backseat when he's puffing a cigarette.

I headed out and locked his room. I passed by on the reception area of the camping site that Kenma's family is running. I left the key to the assigned employee there.

I need to walk for ten minutes to reach the jeep terminal of the mountain road. Or maybe, walk my way home. That would be long and tiring! Or maybe, try to hitch hike.

The sun is rising and I think half an hour had passed by so easily. I saw an approaching red 4x4 from the distance. I raised my thumb and put on a smile. I looked like a lost girl on the mountain road wearing a white oversized shirt and a running short partnered with white highcut chucks. The windows are tinted so it's hard for me to tell the gender of the driver.

The car stopped in front of me. The driver's seat door opens, revealing a blonde-haired but clean cut Kenma Kozume!

He cut his hair! “where do you think you're going?” he asks, frowning.

My heart hammers in my chest, drowning me. I took a step backwards when he got out of the car.

“You got a new car.” a statement instead of an answer.

“Get in.” he try to get a hold of me but I took another steps.

“No. We’re done, Ken.” I said before walking away. I love him but I can't stay anymore. I would be just a hinder for his happiness if this shxt continue.

“Y/N! You can't leave me just like that!” Kenma yelled those. I looked back at him. He's already running slow. I panicked. I ran, too, faster than his pace.

“Fxck, Y/N!” Kenma caught up to me. He snatched my small frame. Dropping me above his shoulder.

“Ah! Put me down, Kenma!” he jogs his way back to his car, panting as he slams me into the backseat. He follows, shutting the door.

“You wish to leave me? You can't, Y/N! I am forbidding you!”

“I can't stay with you anymore, Ken. We are graduating. Remember her promise that after graduation, she would give you another chance to prove yourself to her? It's happening, you could finally have her back.”

“what if I say, I don't want her now? That I want someone else now? And she's now in front of me? Pushing me away because she thinks it is the right thing to do and it's heroic.”

“heroic? Do you think I’m doing this because I feel responsible for you? That it was a hero thing? No, Ken. You got it all wrong. I am doing this because this is what a person in love shall do. To free oneself. To not be greedy. I love myself, too, Ken. I want to be happy.”

For him, I can always try to be better. For him, I am willing to surrender. For him, I can always see love as a guiding light.

Kenma grabbed me on my jaw, inching his face closer to mine.

“Be happy? With whom? I won't let you.” he breathes on my lips, I shuddered. “I don't break rules, Y/N. You know that. But last night, I just did. For you. Because I fxcking realized that I can't stand a thought of you kissing another man. I am fxckingly and undoubtedly in love with you now!”

Kenma pressed his lips on mine. A tear escaped his eye. He pulled away. He rubbed his nose against mine. A noise traveled out from my closed lips. It was a sob. Kenma kissed me again. Tears are now brimming on his eyes.

“Idiot.” I said before pulling him for a kiss.

Kenma wrapped his arms around my body and kissed me back with intense emotions,

“let’s date for real.”

“And be the only man in my life.”

///

THANK YOU FOR READING ❤️☺️❤️

[aurora077]

The Value of Recognition - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Well shit

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13934252/1/The-Value-of-Recognition

“Wei-qianbei, are you okay?” asked Lan Sizhui. Healer Zhang had been quietly filling in Second in Command Pan about what they knew so far, but the juniors had been focused on their Senior Wei and the adorable child who they couldn’t believe was actually the irascible Sect Leader Jiang. As such, they noticed when the mood on that side of the table dropped.

One minute everything was fine and he was enjoying the food and the next, Wei Wuxian’s chicken had slipped out of his chopsticks, Jingyi style, and had (luckily) landed on his bowl of rice without him noticing a thing. He’d fallen silent and seemed to be far away. None of them knew why he was reacting this way to the toddler’s innocent words.

“Who’s A-Ying?” Ouyang Zizhen whispered to Lan Jingyi.

“Beats me…”

But he remembered something and it seemed to click. “Wait.. Do you think... that it’s Wei-qianbei?” Jingyi replied, thinking of all the Wei Yings Hanguang-Jun had said since his return.

“Young Master Jiang,” said Jin Ling, also concerned about Wei Wuxian’s reaction and as straightforward as his uncle he asked, “Who is A-Ying?”

“A-Ying is A-Ying,” he chirped, “Wei-shufu said A-Ying will be fwens with A-Cheng, like A-die and Wei-shufu. But he didn’t bwing A-Ying.”

Jin Ling seemed like he’d caught on. He looked between his xiao jiujiu and Wei Wuxian with a mix of pity and sorrow.

Wei Wuxian had noticed none of this. His head was filled with white noise. Wei Changze. When did Jiang Cheng meet Wei Changze? Jiang Cheng never mentioned meeting his parents. And he himself didn’t remember ever being to Lotus Pier before Jiang Fengmian found him (though granted he did have a shitty memory). Mini Jiang Cheng said his Wei-shufu promised to bring A-Ying to play with him. Was that… Did it never happen because his parents...didn’t make it back?? Was three year old Jiang Cheng’s memory of Wei Changze the last time he ever set foot in Lotus Pier? Grief held his heart like a vice at the thought.

Wei Wuxian did not remember how long he was on the streets. He vaguely remembered being around five in the only memory he has of them that remained clear. Him, getting a little too big to ride on his father’s shoulders, but his father humoring him anyway. His mother was laughing and happy, sitting on a donkey and looking at them fondly.

His years on the street blurred together. All he knew was that his parents were on a night hunt and when they were done they would come and get him. But he waited and waited and nobody came. Eventually the food they had left him had run out and he had gotten hungry and wandered away from their camp (and later, couldn’t find his way back). He’d had to fight other children, even adults, for little scraps of food and the best places to find shelter for the next few years. And of course, the worst thing to happen to him was those feral street dogs who would chase him and bite him, especially if he’d managed to scrounge up any little food from the stuff people threw out.

(“Senior Wei.”)

When Jiang Fengmian had found him and taken him home, he was amazed at the beauty and splendor of Lotus Pier. To a nine-year old who’d been on the streets for years, he had never seen such a sight. If he had been there before, he would have surely remembered it! He could only conclude that he hadn’t gotten the chance to visit Lotus Pier. He didn’t recognise Jiang Cheng when he met him as a child and Jiang Fengmian had only said that this would be his home now. He hadn’t asked him if he remembered him or Lotus Pier.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t gone with Jiang Fengmian because he knew him, he had gone because the man said he knew his parents and had offered him food and shelter. By then, he was old enough to know that his parents were never coming back.

My god, his parents. When was the last time he thought about his parents? He’d told Jiang Cheng to leave the past in the past. The bitterness and the pain. He’d wanted them both to move forward and live happily. But now he was staring the past in the face, forced to confront things he had buried. Things he hadn’t even known he’d buried.

(“Master Wei?” “What’s going on with him?”)

Jiang Fengmian had rarely actually talked to him about his parents aside from the time he’d found him and told him they were his friends. He’d doted on him and treated him like he was his own son (unlike his actual son who’d gotten treated coldly many times, causing an argument between Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan every time without fail…).

It made Wei Wuxian feel terrible. He was happy that Uncle Jiang liked him and treated him well, but it felt really horrible to be the reason why Jiang Cheng’s face fell every time Wei Ying was praised and he wasn’t. He’d loved his grumpy shidi and causing him pain was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do. (Though he’d managed to do it time and time again.) But he’d meant it that day when he’d told Jiang Cheng that he didn’t want people assigning him to other households. His parents had been real people in this world. It was funny that now, it was Jiang Cheng who had to remind him of that, albeit unknowingly.

When was the last time he’d thought about his parents?

He choked back a sob.

(“Wei Wuxian!” “What is happening right now, is he okay?”)

How did he never know that he looked like his father? Who was left alive that knew his parents? Lan Qiren? (A man who disliked his mother... and hated him.)

Who was left to talk about them and honor their memory? Wei Wuxian had been so young and his memory was poor. He hardly remembered them at all. Why did nobody ever tell him he looked so much like his dad that a toddler, who surely couldn’t have interacted that much with the man, could recognise him in Wei Wuxian’s face to the point he’d thought it was him?

(“Senior Wei, can you hear me?”)

Wei Wuxian, in his obliviousness, had not even realised that was the case. Because he hadn’t known. Oh he’d heard about his mother. How she came down from Baoshan Sanren’s mountain, how she’d been so much like him. How Jiang Fengmian had loved her but she chose his father anyway. Just like Cangse Sanren, is what people said about him, once upon a time that is. Rarely anyone mentioned his father. And now, nobody mentioned them at all. Because nobody (save the uptight Lan Qiren) could even remember them. They were like footnotes in the grand scheme of his life.

His parents were footnotes in his life. He hadn’t intended to do it, but it seemed like they were part of the past he’d left behind when he told his shidi to leave it there.

He felt like weeping.

And indeed he must be, because the sound of it reached his ears. He reached a hand up to wipe his tears but.. his face was dry?

He felt a tug on his sleeve.

“Wei-shufu, A-Cheng is sorry.”

His vision cleared. Oh. He was surrounded by worried faces and a now teary-eyed baby, whose cries were a lot more silent than before but also a lot more sorrowful now.

“Wei-shufu don’t leave A-Cheng. A-Cheng will be good,” he cried, “Pwease don’t tell A-die A-Cheng was bad. A-Cheng won’t ask for A-Ying.”

Tears silently slid down the toddler’s face, and that was the impetus for his to fall too. He picked up the toddler and cuddled him, hiding his own teary face from the others in the child’s hair.

“Who said A-Cheng was bad? Was it the scary geges?” (“Hey!” protested Lan Jingyi.)

He stroked the child’s head consolingly, trying to control his own sorrow. He didn’t know what expression he had on his face when being struck with the past, but he hadn’t meant for the child to think he was to blame.

“A-Cheng didn’t do anything wrong. Wei-shufu was just missing his family.”

(Lan Sizhui gasped. It seemed like he too realised what was going on. He shared a look with Jin Ling. Wen Ning too had realised what was happening, and if a corpse could have cried, he would be sobbing on his friend’s behalf.)

“W..wei-shufu c..can *hic* bwing them to ‘otus Pier too,” said Xiao Cheng, sniffling.

Oh that precious little thing. “Maybe next time,” he deflected, “This time your Uncle Wei is here for you.”

He patted the child’s back. “Don’t cry now, come on, let’s finish your breakfast okay?” A-Cheng nodded. But he was quiet and let Wei Wuxian feed him the rest of his meal. Everyone else was subdued as well, each thinking that those two people never seemed to be able to escape an encounter with each other unscathed.

------

With the awkward breakfast over, Wei Wuxian had pushed his emotions aside; he’d reflect on those another time. Right now it was time to get down to business.

“Second in Command Pan, can I call you Senior Pan? That’s a bit of a mouthful isn’t it?” he quipped.

Pan An huffed but acquiesced.

“Okay so Senior Pan, Healer Zhang has briefed you already on what we know. With your sect leader currently… indisposed… Lotus Pier of course will be your responsibility and I beg your leave to help and to use the library etc as needed. It falls to you to grant us permission to stay but if we have it I promise I’m going to do everything in my power to make this right. A-Ling has a sect to run as well so the both of you can’t do everything alone. It’s going to be difficult enough to contain the news of what happened. People talk and lots of people would have seen Wen Ning bringing him in last night. The Lans have a song called Inquiry which I’m sure you’ve heard of. Lan Sizhui is proficient enough and I thought we could start our investigation by communicating with the spirit to find out what exactly it cast.”

“I admit Master Wei, I’m not pleased to have to accept your help for this. But yes you have my permission to do what it takes to break this curse, even though Sect Leader might break my legs when he... comes back,” said long suffering second in command Pan. “Why would A-Die bweak gege’s legs?” asked A-Cheng innocently. Crap.

“Uh your A-Die isn’t going to break anyone’s legs, A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian laughed sheepishly. “Gege was just joking,” said a panicked Pan An.

Healer Zhang facepalmed. “Young Master Jiang, may I make a suggestion?” she said earnestly, seemingly invested in going along with the idea that he was in charge while his father was away. She had not, however, forgotten for a moment that this child was in fact her sect leader. He was responsible to a tee and would take Wei Wuxian’s words about being in charge to heart, even as a toddler. But he was also a child at the moment and there are some things you just don’t discuss in front of a child. Especially when it was about him. He would hear his name come up and wonder what he had done and how would they explain things to him then?

He hesitated but nodded.

“Why don’t you and your Flower-gege go with Flower-gege’s friends to do a patrol of the sect? Your Uncle Wei, Sizhui-ge, and Second-In-Command Pan have some boring adult things to talk about.”

Mini Jiang Cheng looked up at his Flower-gege who smiled encouragingly. “Okay,” he said softly, wanting to do his best while his family were away. He already messed up and made Wei-shufu sad. Maybe A-Die would give him a hug if he did a good job and didn’t cause any more trouble..

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 54

Title: Unexpected

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip, @ocfairygodmother, @ocappreciation​

Link on Ao3

:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/80096629

He hears her as she comes in; the soft click of the front door opening, the tap of her heels against the hardwood floor, the jingle of the dogs’ tags as they hurry to greet her. That almost childlike voice speaking in a hushed whisper; praising them for being ‘good boys’ and for not barking and ‘waking the demons up’. The soft rustle as she slips out of her jacket, followed by a yawn and the shuffling of tiny feet approaching him.

Before he has the chance to turn away from the dishwasher and greet her, she’s wrapping her arms around him from behind; briefly squeezing him before her palms settle on his stomach and her forehead rests against his back. For several minutes neither of them speak; her eyes closed as his calloused fingertips repeatedly drift along her forearms and over the tops of her hands. Enjoying the simplicity of the moment; a quiet and innocent display of intimacy in the security of their still and silent home. She relaxes in the warmth that radiates from his body and the smell that clings to both clothes and skin; fresh and crisp and so utterly masculine. For years she’s enjoyed that scent; reminding her of the comforts of home and the beautiful things that exist in their lives and within their relationship. Using it as a comfort whenever they’re separated; sleeping with his pillow, wearing his tees or his dress shirts, wrapping her body up in one of his hoodies. It keeps him close when he’s so far away; easily managing to chase away even the worst of the loneliness, calm her when her patience has been tested, and bring her back from the edge when feels herself slipping into the dark, hopeless place.

His fingers push through hers; lightly squeezing her hands before raising one to his lips and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “What’s this all about? This kind of greeting?”

“What? I’m not allowed to hug my husband? Maybe I’m happy to see you. Maybe I appreciate you; taking care of the house, watching the hooligans, letting my sister borrow me for a night. And maybe...just maybe…” she playfully pinches his stomach. “...I find it sexy when you’re doing domestic shit.”

“You do, do ya?” He grins. “Just HOW sexy do you find it?”

“Incredibly sexy. Coming home to a spotless kitchen and all the kids fast asleep and every stitch of laundry folded AND packed? That makes me so hot for you.”

“Maybe that was my plan.” Placing a kiss on the top of her hand, he releases his hold and returns to putting the last of the clean dishes away. “Get all this shit done, make you all hot and bothered, have you at the point you can’t say no.”

“Like I would say no. I seem to be incapable of using that word when it comes to you for some reason. It’s why I’m in the predicament I am now; married to this insanely hot, muscly, tattooed Aussie who I let impregnate me with SEVEN spawn.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Definitely NOT a bad thing. A few more than I ever expected to have, but…” her hands glide along across his stomach and onto his sides. Running up and down his ribs before settling on his hips; playfully pinching the miniscule amount of fat that resides there. “...we do good work.”

“We do,” he agrees, and turns to face her; leaning back against the bottom cupboards with his palms flat against the countertop. “We do fucking amazing work, actually.”

Her hands slide to the small of his back and she leans her body against his; the bottom of her chin against his chest as she peers up at him. Cheeks slightly flushed; the lingering remnants of the powerful drink she’d finished just mere minutes before jumping in a cab and heading for home. “How did things go?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing. You didn’t stick around long; after you called me.”

“I just wasn’t feeling it. That kind of place. Not really my scene anymore. Maybe when I was in my early twenties and looking for an easy pick up; a bar where the guys are so needy it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. It was like I was in this whole new, strange world that I didn’t even understand. Am I really getting that old?”

“You’re not getting old. You just make better choices now. You’re just wise. More mature.”

She groans.

“What?” he chuckles, and gently combs a hand through her hair; fingertips moving wayward strands from the side of her face and looping them behind her ear. “What did I say?”

“You said mature. Which is just a polite way of calling me old.”

“That is definitely NOT why I called you mature. You are NOT old. Far from it.”

“You’re saying that out loud, but inwardly you’re counting my gray hairs, aren’t you.”

“Maybe…”

Frowning, she slaps both palms against his ass and then pinches aggressively. “Jerk!”

“You really want to know what I was thinking?”

“I don’t know, do I? Are you actually brave enough to admit it? You may be Mister Big, Bad Mercenary, but you can’t deny you’re scared of little old me.”

“That’s because you hold all the power. Other people? They can’t hurt me the way you can.”

“I guess in your eyes, this is nothing scarier than the reality of sleeping on the couch for the rest of your naturally born life,” she chides, as her hands slip under his t-shirt. Her palms repeatedly skimming over his bare back; fingers able to find the smattering of scars by sheer memory. “Tell me,” she encourages. “What WERE you thinking?”

“You sure you can handle it?”

“I’m a big girl; I can take it.”

“Of there’s no doubt about that. And you take it very well.”

She gives a dramatic roll of her eyes, then lightly scraps her fingernails along his skin. “Considering what I’ve gone through in the past twelve and a half years, I think it’s safe to say that I can pretty much handle anything you throw at me.”

“I dunno…”

“Tyler, my husband is a mercenary. I have four sons. I have seen and heard it all. Nothing shocks me anymore.”

“All I was thinking was how you looked really beautiful tonight. I mean, you’re beautiful ALL the time, but tonight? Extra beautiful.”

A slow smile creeps across her face; dark eyes sparkling up at him in a mix of content and slight embarrassment. Still not entirely comfortable with compliments and praise; her childhood and eventual first marriage spent being constantly torn down and degraded. “That was an extremely good save.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Wasn’t bad, huh? You impressed by me?”

“Very. That was extremely quick thinking on your part. You may have just saved yourself a very long time of camping out in the living room.”

“Well, I actually would just go and stay in the pool house. Try not to cross your path until you’ve calmed down a bit. And honestly…” Both hands push through her hair now; fingers slowly combing through the loosening curls. “...it’s the truth. It WAS what I was thinking.”

“Husband, I don’t care what you say, you’re a big softie.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, fingertips grazing over the smooth lines of her jaw; thumbs repeatedly brushing across the tops of her cheeks before leaning down to kiss her.

Long and soft and sweet; the slow and familiar movements of closed mouth upon closed mouth. A sigh escaping as she climbs onto the top of his feet; standing on the tips of her toes as she curls her arms around his neck. It’s a simple and innocent form of intimacy. Nothing hurried or rushed; bodies not driven by profound want and need. Just a gentle and languid mix of mouths and the tips of tongues. Calloused palms tenderly cradling her face

He gathers her in his embrace when the moment finally ends. Tucking her tightly into his chest. An arm wrapped securely around her waist and hand resting against the back of her head; fingers pushing through her hair and then gently kneading her scalp. She relishes in that physical connection; eyes closed and her arms wrapped around his torso. Enjoying the press of his cotton t-shirt against her cheek and the hard wall of muscle that lays behind it, the familiar scent that clings to skin and clothes, the warmth that radiates from his body, the sound of his heart beating deep within his chest.

The latter plays on her emotions; the realization of how close she’d come to never hearing that sound again. Remembering those first nights in Dhaka; when sleep managed to find him and she’d laid against the strong, beautiful body with her head on his chest or pressed against his back. This big, seemingly fearless man that was haunted by so many ghosts and plagued by so many demons; a troubled mind and a weary body somehow finding reprieve and comfort in HER presence. All the things he’d confessed to her; his guilt and his shame and his regret and how he’d been harbouring a death wish for years. She had lay there in that dirty hotel room marvelling at him; having gone through so much yet somehow managing to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The sound of his heart was the sound of potential and promise; he hadn’t given up and he’d admitted to finally finding something -someone- that could perhaps make him happy again and give him a sense of purpose.

It had come so close to being snatched away; both on the Sultana Kamal Bridge and during his return to Dhaka.

She tightly squeezes her eyes in an attempt to hold back a flood of tears; hands increasing their grip on the back of his shirt. He doesn’t question it; the trembling of her body or the hitch in her breathing or the desperate way in which she clings to him. Instead he drops a kiss on the top of her head and his palm slides to the middle of her back; rubbing in smooth, comforting circles.

It’s several minutes before he speaks. Both hands briefly settling on her shoulders, gently pushing her away before one hand rests on her hip and the knuckles of the other graze along her jaw. “You alright? You good?”

Nodding, she opens her eyes and looks up at him, managing a reassuring smile and a small nod.

“You sure? ‘Cause you don’t look alright. You want to tell me what’s going on? What’s got you looking like the waterworks are going to start any second?”

“It’s just been a hell of a couple weeks. And finding out about Mark and realizing that was actually him that got that close to me? It’s just unsettled me a bit. That’s all.”

“I am sorry that I kept it from you. If I’d had any other choice…”

Her hands slide down his back and onto his ribs. “You didn’t though. You did the right thing. You don’t need to be sorry. I don’t WANT you to be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. You made the right decision.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words. “Did you at least try and have a good time tonight? Was any of it decent at least?”

“Dinner was great. Conversation was awesome. I could have done without going to a bar mainly inhabited by frat boys whose balls haven’t probably even dropped yet. Do you want to know how many times I was propositioned tonight? How many times my ass was grabbed?”

“Not really, no.”

“A lot. A staggering amount, actually. Probably more times than you've grabbed my ass in the entire twelve years I’ve been married to you. But I enjoy when YOU grab it. Them? I feel like I need to bathe in a tub full of bleach.”

“You know, you could have called me. I would have come down there to bust some heads.”

“Which is exactly WHY I didn’t call you. Because you’re much more useful to me and the children than you are in jail. Let’s NOT catch any assault charges, okay?”

“I don’t know,” he chides. “Guys start sexually harassing my wife…”

“I handled them. Nothing good old fashioned public humiliation to set them straight. What about your night? Did it go okay? Have YOU been okay?”

“I’ve been good. Just been keeping to myself. Hung out with Desi and Shaena, kept the kids fed and entertained. No one broke any bones or blackened any eyes or shed any blood. That’s considered a successful night in our house.”

“That's considered a miracle,” she laughs. “You know, considering your children are feral and all.”

“You’re going to blame that on me, aren’t you?”

“Honey, you once lived in a shack in the outback with a chicken as a roommate. That’s pretty feral.”

“You fell in love with me. While I was living in that shack with that chicken. Knowing I was feral. What does that say about you?”

“It says that I have exceptional taste. That despite being feral, I thought you were insanely sexy. I saw that sparkle of a diamond under the rough. Didn’t take much for me to bring it right out in the open.”

“Comparing me to a diamond? I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.”

“It’s a compliment, you jackass.”

“You have this uncanny ability of loving me up one second and shit talking me the next.”

“You act like that’s something new. I’ve only been like this for more than a decade. I notice you stick around. Put up with it. You haven’t told me to fuck off or packed your bags and hauled ass.”

“Well despite your downfalls, you have way more good qualities going for you.”

“Yeah? And what good qualities are those?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I mean, you can’t reach things on the high shelves, you can’t get clothes out of the bottom of the washing machine, you can’t cook for shit.”

“Go on,” she encourages, and pinches the sensitive areas below his ribs. “Get it all off your chest. I promise I won’t kill you in your sleep.”

“But, in spite of all of your many faults, I love you. And I can’t live without you.”

Smiling, she stands on her tip toes and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. “We are so codependent.”

“A little. But I think it’s kinda of understandable, don’t you? I mean, both of us spent a lot of years not having anyone. Always had to fend for ourselves, didn’t trust anyone, didn’t let anyone in ‘cause we didn’t want to get hurt. And then we met and that all changed. I think it’s easy to see why we are the way we are; we’ve been through a lot of shit together. A lot of horrible, horrible shit.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, then squeezes his sides and smiles up at him. “But we’ve also been through a lot of really good times too.”

“We have,” he agrees. “Even in the midst of some of the really shitty stuff.”

“And we always get through things. No matter how bad they are. How many couples can say that? How many would just break and fold and not even fight for things? Probably a lot. I like to think we’re a different breed. That what we have is totally different from what they have.”

“I think it is. I mean, let’s face it; we’re both phenomenally resilient. And horrifyingly stubborn. I think you’re even worse than I am.”

“Please,” she laughs. “You are the king of stubborn people. No one comes close to you.”

“I don’t know, Me. Some of the things I’ve seen you do when you shouldn’t…”

“Tyler, you are way more stubborn than I am. Admit it.”

“You’re arguing like a stubborn person would,” he teases, and then laughs when she lands a playful, light punch to his stomach and tries to back away; a palm on the small of her back holding her in place. “How about we just call it a tie?”

“How about we say you have fifteen percent more stubbornness than I do?”

“Fifteen? I’ll go as high as five.”

“Five?” she scoffs. “You have to be shitting me. It is way more than five.”

“Seven?”

She stares pointedly up at him.

“Ten?”

“I’ll settle for ten. Even though it’s more like twelve, thirteen, but…” she squeals when he brings the palms of hands down on her ass in a ringing slap; fingers digging through the fabric of her dress and into the soft flesh. “...I’ll give it to you.”

“Good girl.”

“Where’s the littles? I expected to find you fast asleep with a couple of them on you.”

“Put them to bed.”

“You got all three of them upstairs? A couple trips?”

“I’m no two trip bitch, Esme. I got it done in one shot. Boom.” He flexes his right bicep. “Guns of fucking steel, baby.”

“So sexy,” she praises, and then tilts her face up towards him for another kiss. “I am going to and get out of this dress and take a shower. Want to come with?”

“I do, actually. You go do your thing and I’ll finish things down here and lock everything up.”

“Sounds good,” she chirps, and he presses a chaste peck to her lips. “Don’t be forever okay? I’ve kind of missed you. Even in the carnal way.”

“Isn’t that the best way?”

“Sometimes. The most fun way, that’s for sure.”

“Best way to spend any night of the week if you ask me.” His palm slides down her spine as she steps away; briefly lingering at the small of her back and then passing over her over ass.

“Don’t take too long,” she says, and reaches for his hand as she turns on her heel ; fingertips sliding over long, calloused digits and across the rough, work weary palm. And she shoots him a smile over her shoulder as she heads from the room; those big, dark eyes betraying the sadness, fear and confusion that plague her.

****

“You know what I want to do when we get home?” she asks, as he massages shampoo into her short, dark locks. “One of the first things I want?”

“Other than watching the sunset? And a long sleep in our bed?”

“I want a pink lemonade cupcake from Bitten. And maybe a key lime one too. I miss their cupcakes. If there’s anything in this world that even comes close to being better than sex, it’s their cupcakes.”

“Comes close to being better than sex? Excuse me?”

“Well maybe not sex with YOU. But sex with average lovers. Or just above average. You’re off the chart. In fact you’re so far off the chart, you’ve made an entire chart all of your own. Nothing comes even remotely close to your chart.”

“How many average or above average lovers have you had?”

“We have talked about this...many times...in the past twelve and a bit years. You’re only the fourth guy I’ve ever been with. Actually, you could be considered only the third because number two came before he got inside of me and then cried about it and instead of getting off, I had to console him and his fragile masculinity.”

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckles. “What kind of guys were you used to?”

“Mediocre ones. At best. And then you came along and I totally stepped up my game.”

“I don’t know, Me. I’m not exactly the best catch. I’m kinda...messy.”

“I will not tolerate any of this nonsense. You shit talking yourself. So you’ve got some issues…

“Some?”

“A few. But you’re not messy. Okay, maybe you were a TAD messy when we FIRST met, but you got your shit together quick. Cleaned yourself up.”

“Almost dying and being in a coma for a week and the hospital for three months will do that to you. Wean you off your vices.”

She tilts her head back and frowns up at him. “Here I was thinking you were going to say ‘it’s because I finally had a reason to clean myself up. Someone to get my shit together for.”

“I didn’t think that needed to be said. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Maybe I just like to hear it.”

“Baby…” He leans down and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “...you were the only reason I was even alive. Of course I got my shit together for you. I wouldn’t have; had you not been around.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “You know, you always come up with the most immaculate of saves at the most perfect time.”

“Only took me twelve and a half years. I guess I’m a slow learner, huh?”

“I don’t know. You seem to be pretty quick at learning all the right things. And by right things I mean all the sexiest ones.”

“If there’s one thing I DO excel at…”

“Despite what you think of yourself, you excel at MANY things. But you just happen to be a God at things that involve being naked.”

“Well technically, we’re not always COMPLETELY naked. When I get my best ideas.”

“Without pants,” she clarifies. “I mean, they have to come off no matter what.”

“How about we not talk about being without pants?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, husband, we’re not wearing any pants right now.”

“Oh I’ve noticed. I’m just trying not to think of the naughty things that can happen when we’re naked from the waist down. Because this shower…?”

“Not exactly the easiest place to have fun in,” she finishes. “Last time you almost dropped me.”

“In my defence, I slipped. The tiles were slippery. You used too much of that gel shit. The one that smells like watermelon.”

“It’s cucumber and cantaloupe, thank you very much.”

“Whatever it is, you’re not supposed to use the whole bottle at once. Now…” he pecks her lips. “...rinse.”

His hands move through her hair when she bows her head under the full stream of the shower; gently scrubbing at her scalp before his fingers slip through the wet, soapy tresses. Clearing them of any and all evidence of shampoo; enjoying that familiar honey and coconut scent that he first encountered and fallen in love with many years before.

“You know…” she says, as he reaches for the matching conditioner and squeezes some into his palm. “...we didn’t think the whole shower thing through. When we did the renos on this place.”

“I asked you if you wanted me to blow out that one wall. Totally get rid of the sewing room and make the bathroom bigger. Why the hell do we even need a sewing room anyway? I have never...EVER...seen you sew a single damn thing in twelve in a half years.”

“I sewed your arm back up,” she reminds him. “In Dhaka.”

“Honey, I’m not talking about doing patchwork on a human with a needle and dental floss. Have you ever fixed a hole in a pair of jeans? Hemmed a pair of pants? Put a button back on?”

“No,” she admits. “But it doesn’t mean I never will. I could pick up the hobby. And be very good at it.”

“Me, I love you, but you’re not THAT kind of wife. The whole making Halloween costumes and kids clothes? That’s not your thing.”

“I don’t cook well, I can’t reach things on the top shelves or the bottom of the washer, I don’t sew. Just what DO I bring to this whole gig as a wife?”

“Your body has carried SEVEN of my kids. You grew them and you brought them into this world safe and sound. You raise them. Keep them alive. Nurture them.”

“WE do those things. As a team. I’m not a single parent.”

“You’re an amazing mum. You have been right from the beginning. And you’re an awesome wife. You put up with my shit; the job, all my mental crap, my shitty past. I mean, you married a mercenary. A killer for hire. That says a lot right there.”

“Yeah,it says I’m a few bricks short of a load,” she teases, and tips her head back to grin up at him.

“You’ve loved me no matter what. When I had nothing to offer you. When I was fucking mess. You still stuck around. And you stuck around no matter how hard I’ve made things on you.”

“Of course I have. I love you.”

“And that…” he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. “...is exactly what you bring to the whole wife thing. It’s more than enough.”

“You’re a sap,” she declares, and winks at him. “I love this side of you. The sweet and sappy side. Even I do have to keep it a secret from the world.”

“One day, Me. One day I promise you that I will let you reveal all my secrets to the world. When I no longer have a rep to maintain.”

“All of them?”

“Every single one.”

“Even about all your sketch books at home? And the blankie you have to have covering your feet at night? Millie’s old receiving blanket?”

“Even those,” he promises.

“Maybe I will do it during your eulogy. That seems like as good a time as any.”

Grinning, he motions for her to step under the stream of water. “Planning my funeral already, are you?”

“Oh,I’ve had it planned for years,” she chides, and then gives a squeal when he lands a backhand on one of the cheeks of her ass. “For your information…” she dips her head under the water; eyes closing as his fingers once more massage at her scalp and clear her hair of the conditioner. “...I planned it for when you’re 99.”

“You couldn’t give me that extra year? That’s harsh.”

“You’re the one who said you didn’t want to make it to triple digits,” she points out, and turns to face him. “I thought I was just living up to your wishes.”

“That’s very kind of you. Very thoughtful.” His fingers move wet strands of hair away from the sides of her face, then clears the remaining suds of shampoo from around her eyes and off her cheeks and nose.

“I always have your best interests at heart,” she chides, standing on her tiptoes as he leans down to kiss her and then reaching for the shampoo. “My turn?” she asks hopefully, and shakes the bottle in front of his face.

“Didn’t we agree on this? I wash my own hair? Unless there’s a reason I can’t.”

“Don’t be so difficult. There’s nothing wrong with me doing these things for you. I WANT to do it. You take care of me, I take care of you. This marriage isn’t a one way street.”

“Esme…”

She drops her chin to chest and stares up at him. “Tyler…”

He’s unable to resist that long; those dark, seemingly innocent eyes surrounded by long, even darker lashes. “Fine,” he relents, and retreats to the lone built-in bench at the back of the shower. “You get your way. As usual.”

“Because you love me.” She uses a set of controls on the side wall to switch the water flow from the rain shower head at her end, to the one on his. “Because you can’t live without me. Admit it.”

“I’ve already admitted that MANY times.”

“We really ARE codependent as fuck.” She squeezes a helping of shampoo into her palm, then begins scrubbing it into his hair.

“We already talked about this. We have perfectly legitimate reasons to be the way we are. We could be worse things, you know. Than co-dependent. We could be serial cheaters.”

“Or serial killers.”

He chuckles. “That just popped into your head? You thought of that because…?”

“Because I have enough rage inside this little body to do some serious damage to a lot of people.”

“Should I sleep with one eye open, or…?”

“You’re not on my list. Why would you be?”

He shrugs in response; eyes closing and his body relaxing as her fingers press into his scalp; deeply and aggressively kneading.

“I can feel the scars,” she remarks. “I bet if you shaved your head right down, you’d have a pretty good road map up there.”

“Want me to do it? Shave it?”

“Nope. I like it this way.” Her nails lightly scratch against his scalp. “Longer version of my favourite haircut on you. Feel good?”

“Feels really good.” His head falls forward; brow resting against her and his hands finding her hips. “Might put me to sleep.”

“Now that I would be a waste of perfectly good nakedness. Rinse.”

Tilting his back, he lets the steady flow of water rid his hair of suds and uses his palms to scrub and clean his beard. When he opens his eyes, her back is towards him and she’s reaching out to place the bottle back on the metal shelves in the corner. And she gives a shriek -followed by giggle- when he curls an arm around her waist and yanks her into his lap. And she presses a kiss to his cheek and adjusts her position; turning sideways and perching herself on his left thigh while her legs dangle over the right.

Her eyes close as she nestles her face into her favourite spot; that warm, safe place between neck and shoulder. And for several minutes, neither of them speak. Both her arms wrapped around his neck; his head resting back against the tiles and a palm repeatedly smoothing up and down her thigh. And she gives a long, breathy sigh when his lips find her shoulder; light and feathery kisses peppered across her collarbone.

“Speaking of being naked…”

Grinning, she pulls back to look at him. “Promise you won’t drop me this time?”

“We can do it differently. You can ride me.”

Her eyes widen and she gives a dramatic gasp. “Twice in one night? Is this second Christmas? I usually don’t get to do that twice a month, never mind twice in one day!”

With a smirk, he tangles his fingers in her hair. His voice rumbling deep in his chest as he growls, “Come here,” and pulls her into a ravenous, aggressive kiss.

*****

He’s the first out of the bathroom. Peeling the towel from around his waist, he uses it to vigorously scrub at his hair and then tosses it in the nearby hamper. He snags a clean pair of sweats from the open suitcase lying in the corner of the room; every piece of clothing that has to return with them to Australia now packed away and ready for departure in four days. He’s anxious to get home; each minute leading him closer to the moment he can sleep in a more familiar bed and feel the sand beneath his feet and between his toes. To the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore and the smell of salt hanging in the hair; the slight rustle of the surrounding trees as a breeze blows through them and the calls and the ‘chatter’ of the wildlife that takes up residence in the woods and upon their stretch of land.

“You going to check on the kids?” Esme calls from the bathroom; her voice drowned out by the hairdryer. “Make sure no one has fallen out of bed. Or sneaking Ipad time when it’s supposed to be night-night time.”

“In a sec.” He rakes both hands through his hair, then reaches for a tube of pain relief cream that sits on the dresser; eyes falling on the plastic bag bearing the name of the bodega that Esme had sat down before stepping into the shower. His curiosity gets the better of him; eyes narrowing and confusion immediately setting in at what greets him when he peers into the bag.

“What did you say?” Esme asks, as she pads into the room; combing her fingers through her now dry hair, clad in an oversized bubblegum pink bathrobe. “I didn’t hear you. Did you check on them or…?”

“I said in a sec. Babe…” he turns to face her, bag in hand. “...what’s this?”

Eyes widening, she briefly -and nervously- chews on her bottom lip. “It’s a pregnancy test.”

"Yeah, I see that. But whose? Why’s it here? Why you’d bring it home? It can’t be yours.”

Her teeth dig even harder into her lip; hands anxiously fidget with the belt on her robe.

“It CAN’T be yours. There’s no way. It’s not possible. How could that even happen? Scientifically, it can’t.”

“Actually it can. Riley said one in two hundred women will get pregnant despite having their tubes tied.”

“Okay, but we doubled up on things. I got fixed too. I mean, there’s no way you got pregnant with both of us getting things done.”

“There’s something called recanalization. It’s where the vas deferens grows back and creates a new connection and causes the vasectomy to reverse itself.”

“Wait…” he gives an awkward, uncomfortable chuckle. “...that’s a thing?”

Esme nods. “And you usually don’t find out it happened until your partner gets pregnant. Years later.”

“THIS many later? We haven’t been using anything for almost five years. Why would it wait until now to happen? Why not before?”

“It’s probably just how long it took. For things to reverse. I mean, I googled it and there were stories of pregnancies happening a decade after a vasectomy, so…”

“Jesus…” He issues a long, heavy exhale of breath and leans back against the dresser; eyes fixated on the bag still in his hands.

Tears well in her eyes. “You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“That pulsing vein in your neck says you are.”

“I am NOT angry,” he stresses. “Shocked as hell? Confused as fuck? Yeah. But I am not angry. Why would I be angry? I’ve got nothing to be angry about. You really think you are?”

“I think it’s a strong possibility.” She cautiously moves closer to him, then sinks down on the edge of the bed in front of him. “I mean, there’s signs. Things that I’ve felt before. Five times.”

“Like?”

“I’ve been moody, more emotional than usual, hungry constantly. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Yeah, but there’s some good reasons...other reasons than a baby...for those things. I mean, stress will do it. You’ve been stressed. About me, about the holidays in general, your mother, the neighbour, now all this crap with Mark.”

“I was feeling them before all that. Before we even left Australia.”

“How long before?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “A few weeks.”

“A few weeks? You’ve felt like this for a few weeks? What the hell, Esme? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t connect it to maybe being pregnant. I didn’t think it was possible either. I thought maybe it was just peri-menopause. Or I was just feeling rundown and overwhelmed; things have been crazy busy with both businesses and the kids’ after school schedules. I chalked it up to that. And then when you said you were going to do a job, I figured the worry of that just added to everything.”

“You still should have said something. If you weren’t feeling well...for whatever reason…”

“You were caught up in things for the business. It’s been insane lately. There’s been a huge influx of new clients, new hires, big high profile jobs…”

“Yeah, there has been. But you know what? None of that matters. YOU matter. I would have found a way; to deal with that and take care of you.”

“I didn’t need you taking care of me.”

“That seems to be a real theme with you lately. Not needing me.”

“Tyler, don’t even go there. We already fought about that. About me calling Riley that night and not you. And I have apologized a million times. What more do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you, Esme. And apparently you don’t want or need anything from me.”

“That is so unfair. And so far from the truth. Don’t do that. Don’t take everything as a slight to you. I didn’t keep it from you to hurt you. I just didn’t think it was anything but stress and being busy and feeling rundown. That’s it. It had nothing to do with not wanting you or needing you. Because I need you in so many ways. And not just as my husband. You know that I want you. And that I need you. In every way.”

Sighing heavily, he tosses the box onto the top of the dresser, then crosses his arms over his chest.

“This has nothing to do with how I feel about you,” she insists. “And I know you taking everything as a personal slight is just part of your trauma and your response to it and…”

“Can we NOT do this?” he interjects. “Can we not go totally off the rails? That doesn’t need to be talked about. That…” he nods down at the box. “...THAT needs to be talked about.”

“You ARE angry.”

“I’m going to GET angry if you keep saying that. I am not angry. I am confused and I’m shocked and I’m wondering how the fuck this kind of thing can happen and…” he sighs, running his palms over his hand. “...do you really think you are?”

“It’s a strong possibility. I mean, I have skipped two periods.”

“Holy fuck…” he shakes his head incredulously. “...this just gets better.”

“You know things have never been normal when it comes to that. How many times have I skipped periods and not been pregnant?”

“How many times have you skipped them and BEEN pregnant?” he counters. “More times than not, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she sheepishly admits. “Look, I get you’re frazzled and you’re confused and you know what? So am I. But getting upset with me…”

“I am not…” he snaps, then briefly closes his eyes and gathers his composure. “...I am not upset with you. It’s just...wow.”

“Just two weeks ago you brought up wanting another one. You talked about how we should both get things reversed and…”

“And we talked about it and we came to the conclusion that I didn’t really want a baby, I was looking for a way to fill the fucking crater that my son left behind when he died. Did we not agree to that?”

She nods, then briefly looks away as she struggles to hold back a flood of tears. “You wouldn’t want it then? If I am?”

“I didn’t say that. I would NEVER say that.”

“I mean, if I am, there’s options. If we’re not in a good place, we don’t…”

“There’s no options. That’s our kid. A life we made together. Just ‘cause the timing sucks and it’s totally unexpected doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want it. Do you think that little of me?”

“No!" she exclaims. " Of course don’t! I love you. You’re the love of my life. You have no idea how I look at you. How I see you. I just assumed the way you’re reacting and the way you’re talking, that maybe you think it's a bad idea.”

“Do I think it’s a great idea? No. Would I want to get rid of a kid I helped make? No. Would I love the kid with everything I have? Yes. Why? You don’t want it?”

“It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s…” she struggles to find the words; hands increasing the intensity and speed at which they fidget with the belt on the bathrobe.

He drops to his knees in front of her; prying her hands away from the terry cloth sash and gripping them tightly. “Tell me. Please.”

She looks up at him. “I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And I love our life together. I never want it to end. I love our family and what we’ve built. And I love being a mom. You know all that, right?”

“I do. I do know all of that.”

“I’m going to be forty two years old; there’s a greater risk of things going wrong as a mother ages. And we’ve had complications with every single one but Millie. Look at TJ and Tanner…”

“That was just a freaky thing that went wrong. It didn’t happen again; with Brookie and Takota. They were fine.”

“I’ve had problems with each pregnancy except for the first. Bleeding and cramping and scare after scare. How many times did we think we’d lose our babies? More times than you can count.”

“But we didn’t lose them.”

“We lost one. And I lost one with Mark.”

“And you had seven perfectly healthy babies. I mean, Tanner had his issues, but got better and now he’s great. He’s the healthiest out of them. Not to mention once you got past the first trimester, things went fine. For all of them. I mean the last two didn’t even want to come out; they liked it so much in there.”

She manages a laugh. “We almost had to forcibly evict them.”

“And look how well you did bringing them into the world. Totally natural. In the water. That was fucking incredible.”

“I guess I’m just worried about losing another one. Because I couldn’t take that, Tyler. And I know you couldn’t either.”

“So based on a totally small percentage of something going wrong, you wouldn’t want a baby? OUR baby?”

“I want it. I’m just scared. Of having one. Especially now. With so much shit going on. All this craziness. It’s not exactly the best time.”

“Have any of them been at the best time? Either when they were conceived or when they were born? They’ve all been tied to bad shit in some way. That seems to be our thing; making babies or having them when shit’s tough.”

“And I’m terrified something will go wrong. Remember with Declan? When they thought maybe he had Down Syndrome?”

“I do. And you know what else I remember? I remember that you and I talked about it...extensively...many times. And that we agreed that if there was something going on with him, it didn’t matter. Because it was our kid and we could handle anything thrown at us. I mean, we even researched the first steps into getting whatever he’d need to thrive and learn. Are you saying now you wouldn’t be able to handle it?”

“I know I’d be able to. And believe me, it doesn’t matter if there are problems. Because that’s my baby. No matter what.”

“But…”

“I just...I don’t know...I just…” she sighs heavily, then clamps her mouth shut.

“Esme, if there is ever a time you need to be one hundred percent completely honest with me, this is it. You need to tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. I can’t read your mind, babe. Tell me. Please.”

“Even if it might upset you?”

“Even then. You need to tell me. What’s going on? What’s got you so worried and so scared?”

“It’s a lot of work. ANY baby. Even the perfectly healthy ones.”

“I know. I’ve been through this seven times. Eight times if we count Austin. I know what it takes. And you know that I put everything I have into it; being a dad.”

“You do. And you’re awesome at it. The whole daddy thing.”

“So then what are you concerned about? What…?”

“Children with special needs bring a lot to the table. A lot of extra stuff.”

“I know that too. I’m prepared for that.”

“Are you? Prepared for all of that kind of stuff? The amount of time that will be devoted? The possible health issues? The therapies that we'll have to submit them to? The way the other kids will feel animosity towards their sibling? The stress it'll put on our marriage? Are you prepared for ALL that?" ”

“Are you? Are you saying you couldn’t handle it?”

She shakes her head.

“Esme, please. Just tell me.”

“I’m worried that if something is wrong, it’ll get to be too much.” The tears finally fall. “It will be too much to handle and you’ll leave.”

“Baby...hey…come here…”

Dropping her hands, he gathers her into his arms; a hand on the back of her head as she sobs into his shoulders. He knows it’s a mix of things; her battle with her own mental health, her worries surrounding his, the fact her relationship with her mother finally met its drastic and painful end. And now the emergence of her supposedly dead ex husband; a man who’d caused her so much pain and torment and she’d finally gotten rid of.

“It’s okay.” The fingers of one hand gently massage her scalp; the other palm moving in slow, smooth and comforting circles in the middle of her back. “You’re alright.”

“Promise me you won’t leave. If things get really hard. If something IS wrong. Promise me.”

“I’m not taking off. No matter how tough things get. You can’t get rid of me that easily. It’s going to take either you leaving, or death.”

“Well I know I’m not going anywhere and I hope that last one isn't for a very long time.”

Pulling away, he smooths her hair away from her face and then cradles her cheeks in his palms; thumbs brushing away the river of tears. “Esme, I’m not that guy anymore. The one that runs. I haven’t been him in a long time. Because of you. You changed that. You changed ME.”

“I need you. Not just because of this. Or because of Mark. Because of so many things. I can’t do this without you. This life. I just can’t.”

“You don’t have to. I am right here.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, his lips linger against the soft, warm skin. “I’m not going anywhere, babe. I’m with you until the end. And I hope that’s a hell of a long time away, too.”

“I didn’t mean to accuse you of still being that way. The guy that runs. I didn’t mean…”

“You have every right to worry about that. I’d worry about it too. I totally get it.”

“I’m scared. Of so many things.”

“Well, me taking off shouldn’t be one of those. That’s not going to happen. Everything else? We’ll handle it. Our track record for getting through hard shit is pretty good. I don’t plan on ruining that. Do you?”

She shakes her head.

“You know what I think we should do? Before we have any more of these conversations? I think we should find out for sure. If there IS a baby. I think that’s where we need to start, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles, as gentle, calloused fingertips clean up the last of her tears. “I do. Will you stay with me? While I take it? And while I wait.”

“Like I said,” he places a soft, tender kiss on her lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[justanother-unluckysoul]

Working My Way Back To You 9/11

Killian gets captured. When Emma finally rescues him, he’s traumatized and nearly broken from the torture he endured. Angst and h/c galore as Emma helps him through it.

I tried to go easy on the whumpy side of it since it’s supposed to be for Comfortember, but it’s me so I probably failed lol

A/N: Oof this chapter got away from me a bit lol I strayed back into whumpy territory a little in this one, as Killian talks about some of his trauma, but he does get comfort in the present time.

Warnings for this chapter: a bit of smut (I probably don’t have to warn for that since this story is already M rated but it’s there, so) (also it’s my very first attempt at smut and I’ve rewritten that scene only like a bazillion times haha but I’m still so nervous to post it, I just hope you guys don’t hate it)

Unbetad as always so mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @cocohook38 as requested.

Read this chapter on AO3

Working My Way Back To You

Road Trip + Campfire

It had been Archie’s idea for Emma and Killian to get away for a while. Go down the coast, he’d said, find yourself. Reconnect with each other. Killian didn’t know how camping was supposed to help with any of that. But Emma had seemed excited about the prospect when he’d mentioned it to her, and he never could deny her wishes so here they were, sitting on a log in a forest in the middle of nowhere, where Killian could hear the ocean but not see it through the trees. The campfire crackles and pops and the heat against his front is a sharp contrast to the chill at his back, and perhaps they hadn’t thought this through very well because even through his layers Killian can still feel the cold now that the sun has gone down. Although it has been unseasonably warm lately, the night air still carries quite a bite. Emma’s tucked into his right side, a blanket around her shoulders. She seems happy despite the cold, her stomach full of the fish they’d caught from the sea earlier that day, and the ‘marshmallows’ she’d insisted on bringing along – yet another sticky, sugary treat Killian couldn’t quite stomach. He’d tried two, toasted over the fire until they were gooey on the inside, but they sat uncomfortably in his gut and he left the rest for Emma. He’s not sure if it was the problem was the marshmallows, or the fact that his anxiety is rising again just from being in a forest. Spending centuries on a jungle island, at the whim of a malicious demon, had ruined it for him. On a good day, he could shove it down, bury it deep where all his other vulnerabilities lived. But today is not a good day.

“What are you thinking about, Killian?” Emma asks, and he supposes he has been quiet for too long.

“Just… things.”

“Good things?”

He wishes.

“No.”

“Oh.”

She’s got her fingers on his chest, toying absently with the hairs at the unbuttoned top of his shirt. He wonders if she’ll ask for more of him. He wonders if he can give it this time. He thinks about her body pressed against his and her gentle hands removing his clothes, and maybe he wants to try it again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asks.

Her unexpected question forces an alteration of Killian’s thoughts that is abrupt and unpleasant. Because that’s why they’re really out here, isn’t it? To talk about things. Reconnect, whatever the hell that meant. He doesn’t want to do this. He really, really doesn’t want to dip his toes back into those memories. It’s bad enough he has to bare his soul for the cricket on a regular basis.

“I…”

Where does he start? How can he tell her the true horrors he endured in the cellar? And does she even want to hear it – how they’d seemingly delighted in every strangled groan and grunt he couldn’t hold back under the torture, and how they’d laughed when they finally forced a scream from him? That his only comfort was the hallucination of her, kneeling at his side in the cell telling him everything would be okay as he struggled to breathe around the pain consuming his body? Bloody hell, he’s shaking again at the thought of saying any of that to her.

“We don’t have to do this,” Emma says, giving him a way out that he desperately wants to use.

But Killian Jones is not a coward.

“No, it’s… I can…”

“Breathe, Killian,” she coaches, sitting up straighter and her hand moves up to cradle his face, “Breathe. You’re okay.”

He takes a breath. And another. And slowly the tendrils of panic release him.

“I saw you there,” he blurts out before his mind can talk him out of it again, “In the cell with me. You brought me comfort amongst the torment…”

 “Killian, you have to be still. Just be still. It’ll only hurt more if you move.”

He blinks drowsily at her standing beside him, her hands gentle on his battered body as he hangs from the shackle. Perhaps he should listen to her advice. The pain of fighting to keep his feet under him is making it harder to breathe. Harder to think. And he needs to think. But…

“Emma, how are you here?” he gasps, and his eyes fill with tears of relief.

Her hand caresses his face as she smiles, and he wants to weep from how good it feels. Her love. Her kindness. How long has it been since anyone has touched him in such a way? How long has he been shackled in this cold cell?

“It’s okay,” she says with so much tenderness, “Everything’s going to be okay now. Go to sleep, Killian.”

His eyes flutter closed. He’s so cold. He’s so tired. Everything hurts but it’s okay because Emma’s here.

 “That’s why you didn’t know if I was real,” Emma says quietly, “when we found you. I thought… I thought I’d lost you. That they’d….”

She’s pressed tightly against his side again as he hesitantly shares the story with her.

“I was so scared, Killian.”

“Aye, love. Me too.”

He hadn’t meant to admit that, but he had been terrified. He’d kept it hidden from his captors as best he could but by the end, he knew he was failing. There’s only so much a man can take. And they’d known that, finding his weaknesses and pushing him past his breaking point. For two weeks, he suffered at their hands.

 “Focus on your breathing, Killian,” Emma says softly.

He’s shivering, naked against the cold floor, exhausted from the pain yet unable to sleep because of it. His ruined hand feels so unbearably hot that he envisions it may well burst into flames, every involuntary twitch of his broken fingers sending a blazing agony up his arm. And further down his body there’s still the terrible, terrible burning sensation from his captor’s latest game.

“I d-don’t want you to s-see me like this, Emma,” he whispers through chattering teeth, his eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s okay. You know I’m not really here.”

The reminder that he is alone is too much. It’s like a wave of emotion cresting, and crashing into him with immense force, making him want to howl his rage and despair until his lungs are empty. But he only allows a whimper. He won’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how utterly broken he is.

“Just breathe,” not-Emma murmurs, her imaginary fingers on his face close enough to the real thing that Killian feels himself melting into her touch, “Just keep breathing, Killian.”

 “It felt so real. I know it wasn’t, but… you helped me to stay sane. I would have lost myself if it weren’t for the image of you at my side.”

The fire is burning low now and the loss of its heat is making him shiver. Emma moves the blanket so it’s resting over both of them, and her hand settles on his left forearm as she burrows closer into his right side, like she can cuddle the fear right out of him. He appreciates the gesture, struggling with the mental distress of releasing the memories from that box in his mind. Of admitting his fears to Emma. And he has barely touched on what they did to him in that cellar. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to, not to Emma.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to find you,” Emma says.

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. We were nearly… we were nearly too late, Killian, you were…”

“Almost gone,” he whispers, staring blankly into the campfire.

  When he swallows, he can taste blood, having bitten either his tongue or his lip – he doesn’t know which one – trying to hold back his cries during his last torture session. It hadn’t even helped, not for long enough. His strength is entirely depleted. The pain throughout his body has faded to a dull, miserable sort of ache, that he’s grateful for because it’s better than the fire that had consumed him before. And he realizes distantly that this is it, this is the end. It’s not how he thought he’d go – and he’s thought about it a lot over his too many lifetimes. A quiet, distraught sound escapes his parched throat at the thought that Emma will be too late to save him. He’s not afraid to die, his heart doesn’t ache for himself but for her, how terrible it will be for Emma to find his corpse. How long will it take? But wait, here’s Emma now, her hand gently rubbing at his curved back as he lies there helpless.

“Emma?” His lips move, but he doesn’t think he’s actually spoken aloud.

He doesn’t seem to have the strength for that anymore, but that doesn’t matter. Emma presses her lips against the back of his bare shoulder. He can feel her hair tickling his skin.

“Ssshhh,” she shushes him, “I’m here.”

But she’s not really, he knows that. It’s just his mind playing a trick on him again. But he might as well take the comfort it seems willing to provide in his final hours.

“Hold me, Emma. Please, I want to feel your embrace as I go.”

Not-Emma’s arms slip under him, lifting him effortlessly into her embrace. The motion hurts in a way in shouldn’t because this isn’t real, but he moans weakly anyway.

“It’s okay, Killian. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

It’s hard to breathe, but he knows that won’t matter for much longer. Emma’s fingers move lightly over his cheek, across his jawline, caressing his face as she holds him steady. He feels like he’s floating now, only her touch keeping him from disappearing into nothing. Killian feels immensely grateful for her comfort. He doesn’t bother to open his eyes, content to imagine how she looks, the smile on her face, the kindness in her eyes. The love she has for him is flowing into his body, easing his suffering in his final moments. But his captors come back for him, one more time and he just wants this to be over.

“Just bloody finish it,” he says, and he can tell he’s said it aloud this time by how feeble his voice sounds.

He floats away again and he doesn’t want to come down, but they pull him back, holding his right arm too tightly and he can’t take any more of this, can’t take the pain that he knows is going to overwhelm him in a moment when they aggravate his broken fingers again just for the fun of it. He shakes and writhes and implores for them to stop and he promised himself, he promised Emma they could not break him, but they have. By the gods, they have. But not-Emma is still here somehow, and her touch feels more real than it ever has. She’s never been there during his tortures, only afterwards in his cage, and Killian struggles to focus on her. She looks scared this time and Killian doesn’t like it. He wants desperately to let go, to escape this torment, but she looks so sad he can’t bear to leave her like this. But his body is giving up and he has no choice.

“I’m so sorry, Emma.”

Slowly, the world begins to disappear again. And not-Emma says she’s real now, and he almost believes it. He wants to believe it, that she has really found him, even if she’s come too late to save him. She tells him just to rest, her fingers curled tightly around his shoulder, soothing and steadying. Her permission is all he needs. Killian finally submits to the void that’s been beckoning to him so enticingly, and he doesn’t expect to wake up again.

 Emma’s sniffling jolts Killian out of the morbid tale he was telling, his voice monotonous as he tried to distance himself from the event, and he realizes he’s lost some time by the way the fire is only embers now.

“Emma? What’s wrong, love?” he asks with concern, giving his head a quick shake to remove what feels like cobwebs out of his brain.

“S-sorry,” she says weakly, her voice quivering, “I just… I didn’t know how close it actually was. Another few hours and… God, Killian.”

Oh. Oh.

“No, I’m sorry, truly. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have told you all that.”

He tries to twist away slightly so he can see her face, but she’s holding onto him too tightly. And she’s weeping freely now, sobbing into his shirt. Curse the cricket for this suggestion, it’s only made things worse. And curse Killian too for going along with it.

“Hey, it’s okay, Emma. I’m with you. It’s okay.”

He repeats her own words back to her, the words she’s used for him so frequently of late, when he wakes panicked in the night or finds himself suddenly unable to catch his breath as the memories cloud his mind. His hand rubs at Emma’s back, trying to soothe her, and he wishes, gods, he wishes he had a second hand with which to wipe her tears away. Though he can’t move his left arm at all right now anyway, because she’s clinging onto it like she’ll float away if she doesn’t.

“Sshhh, love, be calm,” he continues, slipping in his own phrases now, folding himself around her as much as he’s able, sheltering her as she falls apart, “We’re okay now. We’re okay. Just breathe, there’s a good girl. Shh, it’s going to be alright, Emma.”

Slowly her body begins to relax in his arms, and after a while she takes a shuddering breath and sits up to scrub away her tears, and grabs a handkerchief from her pocket to blow her nose. Killian pulls the flask of rum from his pocket and pushes it gently into her trembling hands when she’s done.

“Drink up, Swan, and I’ll tend the fire.”

He needs a moment to calm himself as well and placing some more logs on the fire is a perfect excuse to get him the space he needs, and a simple task to ground himself firmly in the present. Emma stares at the flask in her hand with red-rimmed eyes as Killian carefully tends the fire, expertly poking at and blowing on the embers around the new wood he’s placed on it, until it flares back to life, driving away the chill.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Emma says with a little, self-deprecating sort of laugh, “I’m supposed to be strong, for you. Because I’m fine, you’re the one that was…”

Tortured.

“Hey now, none of that,” Killian says firmly, dropping to one knee in front of her so he can lift her chin and look into her eyes, “You are strong, love, far stronger than I would be in your place. You figured out where I was and you saved me, Emma.”

He takes her hand in his and presses a kiss to the back of it while never breaking eye contact, his lips lingering on her skin as he makes certain she can see in his face how much he means what he’s saying.

“You saved me,” he repeats softly when he finally lifts his mouth again, “I owe you everything. You’re not a mess, Emma, you’re a bloody hero.”

She smiles, hesitant at first but growing wider and then she puts the unopened flask aside in favour of leaning forward to kiss him. He meets her halfway, surging upwards with a bit too much force that accidentally sends Emma toppling backwards off the log with a yelp and Killian falling with her, frantically trying to break their fall without hurting her. He must manage it, because when they make eye contact in this compromising position, Emma’s giggling and Killian can’t help the sound bubbling up his throat too because he’s experienced far too many emotions in such a sort time tonight and he’s feeling a little giddy.

“Sorry, love,” he says, trying to suppress his undignified giggling, “That was…”

But now he’s acutely aware of how close they are, how her hands are clinging to him, and how her thigh is conveniently pressing between his legs. His glee abates as it’s replaced by another feeling – he really, really wants to kiss her again, and deeper this time. And he can barely keep up with all these sensations and he doesn’t even care at this point, his head feeling a little dizzy at the intoxicating nearness of Emma, of her scent and her touch. He wonders if – he hopes – that Emma can feel the heat between them too.

“I’m fine, Killian, it’s fine. Are you-”                              

He gives in to his body’s urges despite his reservations and swallows the rest of her question, his lips capturing hers and his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth, and she immediately responds in kind, almost hungrier for it than he is. Thank the gods, Killian thinks, because if she hadn’t been in the mood, he would have felt stupid, though he most likely could get her into the mood without much effort. The passion between them builds even higher and Killian is desperate for more. He presumes his eyes possess the same dazed look that Emma’s do as they both take a moment to catch their breath.

“Emma, may I…” Emma waits patiently while he finds the words, find the courage to say what he wants, her hand stilling against his chest. “I want to… I want to make love to you.”

Emma laughs a little, like she always does when he uses that phrase (nobody calls it that anymore, Killian but he’s not quite comfortable using a more vulgar term, not to Emma, she’s too perfect and too good and it would be very bad form to say anything like that in her hearing) but she also blushes slightly, and he can see she’s just as eager for it as he is.

“Okay.”

With a wave of her hand, Emma extinguishes the campfire, and then they can hardly keep their hands off each other as they move to the privacy of their tent. The moment they are inside Killian is overcome with the burning desire to touch more of her skin right now.

“Less clothes,” Killian demands, and Emma grins, pulling her lower lip between her teeth before she starts taking her layers off.

She doesn’t ask him to take his own off, sticking to her promise that she won’t push him, but he wants to. He wants this. He’s tired of being a coward. His fingers hurry to remove his own clothing (and he’s never been more thankful to have the use of those five fingers again than at this precise moment), and in a moment Emma is more or less naked in front of him and he’s in a similar state, at least from the waist up. Now his mouth can explore her newly exposed flesh and he delights in the sounds he can pull from her by doing so. Emma’s hand rests against the back of his head, the other bracing herself, leaning back as he takes what he wants. It’s a slow and tender sort of lovemaking; hands drifting slowly across skin, mouths savouring the taste of the other, hushed words of reverent appreciation, and this is exactly what Killian needs. They take their time, neither in a hurry to go further yet, just enjoying getting lost in the sensations.

“Emma.” Killian is the one to break away, feeling the urgency, the need, beginning to override his uncertainties about what he intends to do.

“What is it?”

Killian’s looking up at Emma’s flushed face as he leans back on his elbows on the mattress, her lips slightly swollen from his earlier attentions, her hair a gloriously wild tangle and the colour bright in her cheeks. He’s taken off the brace and hook because they’re in such tight quarters right now, there’s a high chance his hook would rip the side of their shelter when they really get into it, and it would only take a moment of inattention, the briefest impulse to anchor himself to something, and the flimsy material would be rent right open. He doesn’t need one more thing to be concerned about tonight. Not with what he is about to do. Killian hesitates for a second before he grabs Emma’s hand in his and guides it to his belt buckle – his jeans the only thing he’s still wearing besides his socks and his rings and the charms around his neck.

“Are you sure?” Emma asks, her fingers curling into the waistband at the front of his jeans.

“Yes,” he murmurs, quickly, before he can lose his nerve again, “just… just go slow.”

Her eyes flick back up to his several times, checking on his wellbeing as she slowly releases him from the confines of his trousers. He can feel the memories clawing at the edge of his mind, but he keeps watching her, focuses on the feel of her soft fingers brushing against his skin as he lifts his hips and allows her to tug his jeans down and off. Then it’s over and now Emma’s moving back up his body, taking his face in her hands and gazing into his eyes.

“Still with me?” she asks quietly.

There’s no denying that his body is responding to their activities, but Emma just wants to be certain his mind is on board with it as well, after how badly he reacted last time. She’s good like that.

“Aye, keep going, love.”

And then her hand slips down and there, bloody finally. Killian allows himself to get lost in the sensations for a glorious interval. Emma could easily get him off just like this, she’s done it before, her talented hands and her mouth – oh gods, her mouth, a shudder runs through him at the thought – and he’s strongly tempted to allow her to continue, if he didn’t have another plan for tonight. He needs… He needs.

“Wait,” Killian chokes out, and she stops immediately, looking at him with concern.

“What’s wrong? Is this too much?”

“No. I mean, yes, but… Not for the reasons you think.” He breathes deeply, gathers his wits, and his fortitude. “I don’t want to finish like this, Emma, I want… I want you. I want to be… inside you.”

He’s seconds away from adding a pathetic please because she’s so close to him, but not close enough and his skin is tingling with desire. But before he has to, Emma leans forward and her mouth claims his again, scorching and demanding and keeping him firmly rooted in the present time. When she pulls back, his head spinning a little from how hard she’s kissed him, she slips her arm behind him – sit up, Killian, I want to hold you –and he follows her guidance willingly until he’s sitting on the edge of their camping bed, his heart pounding against his ribs because he knows, he knows how good she will make him feel. Then she’s on him and around him, astride his thighs as she settles onto him. His hand finds its way to the swell of her bare arse, drawing her down, coaxing her to take him in further.

“That’s it, love,” he murmurs, and there’s a shameless moan from the back of his throat as she wraps her legs around his waist, taking him deeper, “Gods, you feel so bloody good, Emma.” Because Emma loves it when he tells her how much he’s appreciating what she’s doing to him – and bloody hell, he is appreciating it. A lot. And she’s barely done anything yet.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Emma says quietly, her hot breath against his ear sending a shiver of eager anticipation down his spine, “Tell me if you need me to stop, at any time and I will. Okay?”

Killian nods his assent, and slowly she begins to move, murmurs words of praise to him as her fingers bury themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, her other hand slipping behind his back to hold him close. This position is soft and intimate and wonderful as all his senses become completely immersed in everything Emma. There’s no room for any other feeling, or any other thought. She’s holding onto him as she sets the pace and he’s kissing whatever part of her he can reach, using lips and tongue and teeth the way she likes it and she tastes amazing and he can’t get enough and gods, she is going to drive him insane. He enjoys it rough, sometimes – most times – and Emma always obliges, but tonight she takes him gently, lovingly, carefully, all soft phrases and leisurely movements. And it’s exactly what Killian needs, his fears falling away, this tender coupling the complete opposite to the last time he was at someone’s mercy. And as well as he knows her to work her up, Emma knows how to do the same to him, and despite the slowness of it all Killian finds himself teetering on that edge far quicker than he’d expected. Emma’s quiet moans and gasps as she rides him lets him know she’s not far behind, and he desperately hopes she’s close enough that he won’t leave her unsatisfied.

“Emma… gods, Emma, I’m…” Killian groans, long and loud in the quiet of the forest, his jaw tight as he struggles to keep himself in check. “I’m going to…”

“It’s okay,” she says, strained and tremulous and breathless and still continuing the same steady, relentless pace, “It’s okay. Come for me, Killian.”

“You first, darling,” Killian grits out because damn it, he’s a gentleman.

But he’s too close, he can feel it, he’s not going to be able to hold out. His rhythm is beginning to stutter and he’s losing control. He is wrecked, his endurance is usually better than this and he has to take a moment to breathe, his forehead falling forwards onto Emma’s shoulder. Thankfully Emma seems to take pity on him, for she pauses her motion while he collects himself. Only a moment, but it’s enough. He can tell she’s close, if he could just-

“Right there, yes, oh god Killian,” Emma gasps, pulling harder at his hair, her fingernails scratching lightly against his back, “Don’t stop, please, please, Killian, I’m so close.”

His response is a growl, primal and desperate, her almost frenzied pleas sending him past the point of no return. He has no intention of stopping. Another panted yes and god and then she’s clenching tight around him, his actions bringing her to her peak and his name tumbles from her lips as she shatters and it’s too much and it’s perfect and – and – and he’s there and nothing else matters as they both fall apart.

-/-

No, actually they were ‘coming together’ in every sense of the phrase, is the first thought Killian’s brain has when he’s able to think anything at all again and he snickers into the juncture of Emma’s neck and shoulder as she remains in his arms, equally as blissed out as he is.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, still out of breath, and Killian’s hand slides up the smooth curve of her back.

“Just thinking.”

He lifts his mouth to hers and kisses her deeply, slowly, pouring all his devotion and gratitude into it, only stopping because he wants to be certain Emma knows how much she means to him.

“Emma, you’re a marvel and I love you.”

“Right back at you,” she says, smiling, sparkling eyes even in the dimness of their shelter, a bit of a flush to her cheeks, “That… that was okay, then?”

She looks unsure now, like she’s pushed him further than he was ready for, like she’s broken her promise, and this was what Killian was concerned about – Emma’s insecurities coming to the forefront. He wants those doubts banished from her mind immediately. He brushes some of her wayward hair behind her ear, his touch lingering against her skin, thumb drawing a path along her jawline on the way back.

“It was perfect, love,” he assures her, “You were perfect. You gave me everything I asked for. And… I hope my performance was satisfactory as well?”

A smirk punctuates his salacious question, a little lift of his left eyebrow and there, the uncertainty is gone from Emma’s face like it never existed, replaced with a rather coy smile that Killian much prefers.

“Very.”

They move, eventually, lying down side by side on the mattress and they remain like that, sharing gentle affections and whispered adoration, for quite some time, until the mood gradually changes to something needy once more. Killian moves over the top of her and smiles wickedly, enjoying the way Emma’s breathing has quickened already before he’s even begun, because now it’s his turn to be in control, and she knows very well what his intentions are. It’s time to repay his beautiful Swan for the pleasure she bestowed upon him.

to be continued...

[aprillikesthings]

I mean the fact of the matter, which I’ve thought about mentioning on facebook, is that when we were living in Iceland I fucking hated it. 

I knew it was beautiful. I could appreciate that, at least, though I didn’t really have any reference for how spectacular it was. I mostly enjoyed the trips off-base that my classes and my family took. I do have a lot of very good memories of living in Iceland. 

But I also had my first major depressive episode there, at a whopping ten years old. I constantly fantasized about running away, knowing I’d either freeze to death or get caught immediately, and figured either of those things was okay. (Running away and getting caught meant people might realize out how awful I felt.) 

My good memories of Iceland are mixed in with my mom’s own depression, my dad’s out-of-control spending on random shit, his anger and abuse, being a latchkey kid for the first time and left to my own lonely devices for hours every day, the fact that I frequently had zero friends in school, my homework counting towards my grades for the first time which meant I went from all A’s to mostly C’s, my fifth-grade teacher openly saying she was tired of dealing with me, the other kids in ballet class even being kind of dickish--and ballet was the only thing that actually kept me from throwing myself at the mercies of the always-cold, always-windy, usually damp weather that (at the time) I hated, hated, hated. 

For every good memory I have of Iceland, I have a horrible one. Probably several. Mostly of just being so, so alone. Even my good memories are overlaid with that heavy, awful fog of self-hatred and loneliness. 

(Or the sleepy fog of dramamine, if I’m honest. I had a couple of years there where being in a car immediately made me hella queasy, so there were several trips I spent mostly nodding off, including the week we drove around the Ring Road and camped every night.)

“So why have you wanted to go back since 2001, then?”

Well, it’s beautiful. Like let’s be honest, that’s a huge part of it. 

But also: there is still a part of me that wants to put good memories over the old ones, to paint over all that misery. To go back and say “look, I can be happy here, the whole time I’m here; people here don’t hate me or ignore me out of cruelty, I’m an adult and I can remember this as a good place, I can appreciate its beauty for what it is.” 

So yeah, I’m going to the Blue Lagoon despite it costing $60, because dropping myself onto google street view on the road that leads up to it made my brain do that I KNOW THIS VIEW, I HAVE SEEN THIS, A LONG TIME AGO thing that it does. I’m going to the Laugardalslaug swimming pool even though it’s kind of far from the downtown hostel because I really liked the twisty slide and it’s still there, somehow, miraculously; and I can still remember what it felt like for my then-tiny body to run up that spiral staircase shivering and come out of the slide’s tunnel into the freezing air and get dropped into the hot water of the pool. I’m hoping to find at least one museum that smells the way they all did when I was ten or eleven, on school trips, looking at Viking artifacts and watching films about volcanos. 

I’m going to Gullfoss and the geothermal park and Thingvellir and whatever I can afford, to see it with adult eyes and take silly selfies and remind myself that I’m still here, after all of it, after everything.

[lopithecusfanfiction]

Seashells Are Like Love Letters in the Sand

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai | Might Guy Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 1084 Alternate: AO3 Summary: "Seashells remind me of a life full of beautiful surprises. We are like seashells upon the beach. Beautiful and unique, each with a story of its own to tell. Seashells are like love letters in the sand. Shells on the beach remind me that treasure arrives every day in the form of simple things." [X]

Kakashi gives Gai his birthday present Warnings: N/A Author's Note: This is for day 8 of KakaGai Week 2020 ( @kkgweek ). ❤❤ Happy birthday to our beautiful boy, Gai, and a Happy New Year! ❤❤ I don’t know when this is supposed to take place? It doesn’t really fit anywhere in canon considering Team 7 meets Team Gai at the Chunin exams and then Sasuke defects soon after that, not to mention Lee needing surgery, but I wanted the youngin’s to be Genins in this story. I don’t know why considering they literally do nothing but sleep in this fic, but whatever. Fit this wherever you would like in the timeline. :) Kakashi and Gai are not together in the beginning. Fun little fact if you’re interested. Since there are eight days to this week event, I did four fics in Gai’s pov and four in Kakashi’s pov. :) Enjoy! Prompt: Day 8 - Birthday

Gai watches the flame of the campfire as the sounds of snoring surround him. It’s late at night and Gai and Kakashi’s Genin students are sleeping as the two Jonin teachers keep watch. They had been sent on a joint team mission to strengthen ties among each other and to teach the kids how to work well in bigger groups than the usual four. The mission had only been a simple C-rank so nothing too tough but it was still a good learning opportunity in Gai’s opinion.

It had only taken them two days to reach their destination and once there, the mission had taken three hours, tops. It had been a subject of complaint from Naruto as they walked back to the village, the young child never shutting up. Gai had wondered if the annoyance he had felt at the time is the same annoyance Kakashi feels when Gai won’t stop talking. Either way, Gai had wanted to continue making their way home through the night, something his team could have done easily, but all three of Kakashi’s students had started to complain adamantly the moment Gai had suggested it. Tenten then joined in with the complaining and, the traitor that he is, Kakashi had agreed with the four of them.

That’s how Gai finds himself sitting in front of the campfire, legs crossed, as he watches over them with Kakashi. The fire is warm, all the kids asleep around it, and somewhere in the distance, Gai can hear crickets. It’s kind of peaceful and Gai reminds himself to ask Kakashi on a camping trip someday when they aren’t dirty and tired from a mission.

Kakashi jumps down from the tree that is just behind Gai, landing lightly. He walks up to Gai, footfalls silent among the rest of the noises. “Hey, Gai.” He sits down beside Gai, crossing his legs like Gai is doing. He holds his hand out towards Gai. “Happy birthday.” Gai’s eyes widen in surprise. “I’m sorry we had to spend it on a mission.”

Gai shrugs. “Not the first time and it won’t be the last time.”

“Still,” Kakashi continues. “I would have rather had spent it back in the village with you. Here.” He unfurls his hand, letting Gai see what is in it. “Your present.”

Gai picks it up and examines it. It’s a small striped fox seashell, about the size of one-fourth of Gai’s palm. He turns it around in his palm, angling his hand so the light from the fire better reflects on the surface. It’s a beautiful seashell.

“Does it remind you of anything?” Kakashi asks, voice low so he doesn’t wake the kids.

Gai looks at his friend, trying to figure out what Kakashi is getting at by bringing up that particular memory. “You and I were on a mission with Genma and Asuma. We were maybe thirteen at the time. We took a detour on what we had thought was a faster route to our destination because we had been traveling for days at that point. Instead, we came across a beach. Genma and Asuma wanted to rest there but since you were the captain, you tried to deny this request. So, I challenged you to a seashell collecting contest while those two took a break. You agreed.” Gai shrugs. “And you won, if I recall.”

“I did,” Kakashi agrees. “Not by much though. Do you remember what happened afterward?”

“Before or after I had promised to do three hundred laps around the village on my hands in order to do better next time?” Gai questions.

Kakashi chuckles. “After.”

Gai peers back down at the shell, a fond, wistful smile playing at his lips. “I kissed you.” He gives Kakashi a sidelong look. “And you pushed me away, yelling to never do that ever again.” He then gives Kakashi a teasing smile, cupping his hand gently closed around the shell. “Your yelling gave our position away to the enemy and we got ambushed. In the fight, we accidentally broke all of the shells we collected.”

Kakashi scowls, crossing his arms. “That is not why our position was given away. None of us even knew the enemy was that close.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t Asuma and Genma’s fault who were off dozing,” Gai counters, laughter bubbling up from his chest.

Kakashi playfully shoves him away. “Shut up.” They sit there laughing for a few seconds, trying to stay as quiet as possible in order to not wake the others. When they sober, Kakashi leans forward to rest his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow pressing into his knee. “What do you say to a challenge? Once we get home that is. It can be a belated birthday gift.”

“Not that I’m turning down a challenge but you already gave me a gift,” Gai says, holding up the shell.

“This will be another one.” Kakashi shrugs. “What do you say?”

Gai smiles at him, wide and excited. “Of course! What kind of challenge will it be, Rival?”

“Hmm,” Kakashi mocks thinking. There is a twinkle in his eye. “Another seashell collecting challenge since we never were able to do it again. We’ll head to a beach near Konoha and see who can collect the most.”

“That sounds perfect!” he says, a little too loud. Tenten groans in her sleep but doesn’t’ wake, turning over to her other side. Gai continues more quietly, looking back down at the shell in his hand. “Where did you get this?”

Kakashi sits up, letting his arm fall to his lap. “Remember when we thought all the shells had broken in our fight?” Gai nods. “This one survived.”

“And you kept it all these years?” Gai exclaims, amazed at his friend. “Kakashi-”

“I wasn’t done explaining the challenge,” Kakashi says, cutting Gai off. “What would you say, if after the challenge, I let you kiss me again and this time I don’t push you away and instead kiss you back?”

Gai stares at Kakashi, trying to figure out if he means it. His Rival’s eyes are soft and loving and it makes Gai’s heart melt. Gai’s smile turns warm and he leans a little closer to Kakashi so that their faces are mere inches apart. Kakashi doesn’t pull away. He sits there and watches Gai, letting him get close. Gai holds the shell close to his chest, treasuring the gift his friend has given him.

“I would say,” Gai answers, voice low and soft. “Challenge accepted.”

—————————————————————————————————

A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope everyone had a great New Year! Here's to hopefully a better year!

[hanmajoerin]

Polished, but pulled straight from the 2015 vault. Please excuse slightly dated versions of Rinne and Sakura, I wrote this prior to the end of the series.

Summary: Ever since she could see ghosts, Sakura wasn’t afraid of death. Maybe she was afraid of dying, but not what happened afterwards; then she met Rinne, and it was suddenly too hard to be afraid of dying, too.

II AO3 II Fanfiction.Net II

Overtime

The last time Rinne wore that expression was five minutes after Sakura wheeled her life—three suitcases, two purses, and one overstuffed backpack—into the center of his studio apartment. Sakura was practically wheezing as she said, "I want to live with you, Rinne." It was more of a demand than a request, and once she could stand without having to brace her knees, Sakura shrugged her purses and backpack right into the apartment's entryway.

She refused to let Rinne tell her no, a word that appeared to be resting on the edge of his open mouth. She supposed that it shouldn’t have surprised her though when his response finally came. “You deserve more than this.”

Rinne wasn’t necessarily wrong. The place he and Rokumon called home was maybe three steps above Sankai High’s rundown clubhouse. There was a clunky A/C unit that was barely used, a musty aroma that clung to some of Tamako’s old furniture, and a dingy light that hung in the center of the studio apartment’s main room. It was a far cry from a dream home, but Sakura wasn’t looking for that. She’d been looking for him. Sweating through her skin during the summer and shivering regardless of how many sweaters she piled on during the winter didn’t seem all that bad if she and Rinne could continue passing on souls together. That’s why, even after all of this time, she stood by her response to him. “It’s enough.”

Earlier today Sakura stood next to Rinne at her own funeral; it was a bit weird to watch since she felt very much alive, but she stayed in place, hand clamped onto Rinne's shoulder. The shinigami wore an indifferent expression although he stood as rigid as a wooden plank. Death and finding peace were everyday occurrences for both of them she hadn't meant to change, but it was likely all he was thinking about. He was nodding his head, playing along, but she bet he was figuring out how much time was left. Sakura wondered if she should recycle her words from over sixty years ago, but didn’t. Call it intuition, but she figured that the phrase, “it’s enough,” wouldn't have the same effect now. "I'm right here," was all she decided to say whenever his voice strained while talking to her relatives and friends.

After the funeral, Rinne remained in one of her father's black suits, and because he didn't look a day over thirty-five, it continued to fit better than any glove. The dress shoes he wore were weathered, faded. They belonged to Rinne’s grandfather. The outsoles were thin yet Sakura heard each step he took in the afterlife; it was as if they were somehow tangled in the dirt, and he needed to drag himself forward.

They just made it to the street vendors bordering the Entry of Contentedness when it hit Sakura. A new kind of silence was stretching between them that felt out of place, or rather, dated. The two spent most of their lives together, so now was the oddest time to feel like high schoolers again. That's why Sakura hooked her arm around the familiar folds of the haori of the underworld. Her hand easily slid down to Rinne’s. With all its sunken skin and protruding veins, Sakura often wondered if it was weird for her hand to sit in his. Rinne never mentioned anything, even when she was alive. He offered her a gentle albeit forced smile.

"I remember the last few times I was here," Sakura confessed, sounding surprisingly chipper as she took in all the new old faces. "Back when I ripped your haori sleeve, everyone kept asking me if I had any unfinished business and they were so happy that I forgot I had to return it. I think I really understand them now, though."

Rinne offered her another crooked smile, one that was nowhere near as genuine as his salesman’s smile. "That's because it's easy to get swept up in the atmosphere of this area."

"Are you happy now?" Sakura inquired, not bothering to listen to his response. She was lucky, dying an old woman. Although she tended to walk slower, she could walk ten times faster than the stroll Rinne took her on. She wasn’t the one with the attachments. "I wonder what Ageha will do once she realizes I'm gone," Sakura said, staring at the string of red lanterns lining the strip.

"She's still trying to take my old man down; probably won't be back for a while..."

Sakura nodded, watching as one of the elderly men tried catching a goldfish. "That boot-camp her parents sent her to really helped. I never thought she'd learn to pass on souls like you... it definitely made things easier for Oboro."

"Yeah," Rinne hummed and Sakura squeezed his hand. "Jumonji's going to throw an entire briefcase of holy ash at me when I tell him you made it to the wheel," he mumbled, finally looking down at Sakura. His eyes shined like glass. He chuckled alongside her.

"Don’t forget to respond to his new year's letter when you get home," Sakura chided.

In their senior year of high school, Tsubasa transferred again. He promised he'd be back to date Sakura, but once he finally found his exorcism niche, that promise was too difficult to keep. Instead of returning, Tsubasa wrote Sakura a letter every year. After a while, he finally stopped signing them with "Love."

Was it even possible for Sakura to feel more warmth now? She was a content spirit, but the sight of Rinne scoffing and wearing such a nostalgic expression somehow made her feel lighter. "Isn't Tsubasa more tolerable than Matsugo though?" They hadn't seen him since college.

"Sakura Mamiya!" Rinne blurted out, throwing her arm away from his. Sakura couldn’t help but laugh; she hadn’t been called that in decades.

"At least Shoma didn't turn out too bad, right?" The overambitious shinigami inherited his family fortune but still had a lot to learn when it came to pacifying spirits. Rinne helped him out from time to time. "Oh, do you remember when my mother passed? She was so shocked that you offered to lead her to the Wheel of Reincarnation and even more surprised that I could see her."

"Yeah, and your dad tried to kill me when he died; he almost turned into an evil spirit," Rinne added. "Would've been better if he did. At least then I would've gotten a better reward..."

Sakura sighed and stared at the sky above them. It was a mesh of bright colors. Pinks and yellows, soft reds and blues. Whirlpools twirled above them like ballet dancers. Maybe if she didn't know what would happen next, she would've gazed upwards stiffly like her husband. "Did Auntie Tamako tell you how I'll come back?" She asked, leaning against his shoulder as they arrived at the Sanzu River.

Countless adorable boats eased downstream, shinigami and black cats guiding spirits like employees of a theme park. Death and peace, everyday occurrences. Ends followed by new beginnings, an inevitable process. Rinne swept Sakura up bridal style and she leaned her head against his heart. There was no peace to be experienced by listening to it, but Sakura shouldn’t have expected to find comfort in him. They flew over the Sanzu River and Rinne hummed in agreement to Sakura’s question. "You'll be a calico."

And then they arrived at the line, and she was set down. Sakura stared at the stupefied, blissful faces around them. They encouraged her to shed the oncoming urges to memorize every feature on Rinne's face. Sakura Rokudo’s last ties.

"I've had so much fun in this life, and it's all because of you."

The way his shoulders tensed and his mouth quivered when she said stuff like that always made her laugh. "R-really?"

Sakura nodded vigorously, moving in time with the line of souls waiting to step onto the Wheel of Reincarnation. "Yup. Promise you'll find me again so we can make new memories in my next life."

"Alright..." Rinne agreed as a blush blew across the bridge of his nose. "I'll do it."

Rinne lifted her by the waist onto one of the translucent red tiles, planting her square in the center. When Sakura was settled, he interlocked their fingers. "Great," she began, not fighting the pull the wheel had on their grip. "Now I truly have no attachments."

Rinne’s feet lifted off the ground, keeping their hands level. He ignored the idle chatter surrounding them, attempting to mirror Sakura’s carefree attitude. She may have been ready, but he wasn’t. "Excuse me, Sir," a pig-masked worker interrupted, tugging on the bottom of his haori. Maybe it was the spot where the man tugged, but it brought Rinne back to when Sakura used to tug on the sleeve of his office blazer. She’d remind him that, “The only person we should be pacifying until 6:30PM is the manager," as countless spirits wandered through the surrounding cubicles. The memories from their working days seemed so small in light of where they were now and he didn't know what to do. "Shinigami are not permitted beyond this point, please step back onto the platform."

"Right. Sorry," Rinne mumbled, slowly lowering himself until Sakura's hand slid too easily out of his.

She shrunk before his eyes, her spirit becoming more translucent the higher up she went. It took every scrap of courage Rinne had to keep focused. He searched Sakura’s entire face for the moments when they were in high school and he walked a tightrope with their relationship. Her backpack was gone, her uniform was gone, and she hadn't put her hair in braids after their coworker Yumi made fun of her for it, but maybe—just maybe— he'd be able to go back. The years were there after all, lined up along the lines of her face.

"Goodbye,” Sakura said, although he couldn’t really hear her. She waved to him. She asked him to find her. It was a naïve request; humans never lived the same life twice.

"Goodbye, Sakura," Rinne whispered, waving back at his most treasured person as she rounded the top, lost in the Wheel of Reincarnation’s magnificent reds and golds.

-X-

Rinne told Rokumon that he'd return home after guiding Sakura to the Wheel of Reincarnation, but his entire body sagged like a sodden, rotten log. It would be too hard to look at anyone without feeling as if he were troubling them.

"Granny," Rinne stated loudly, sliding the door open and walking into Tamako's house. It was the only place he could stand to be. She was the only one who would understand.

Like clockwork, Tamako materialized to twist her knuckles against Rinne's temples. He was still standing in the genkan. "How many times do I have to tell you not to—Rinne!"

She probably hadn't expected his forehead to fly from her knuckles to her shoulder. Or for the momentum to send them toppling into the hallway. "Rinne?" She asked, raising a brow at the chipped, worn dress shoes his toes dangled over. His back and shoulders rose and fell without rhythm and he wrapped his arms around her but the action brought no comfort. Tamako pushed him back, and Rinne wished she would have let him stay hidden. His eyes glistened as he took deep breaths. "What kind of shinigami are you—crying over something as common as death?"

"I'm a human, kind of thing."