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sass-and-suspenders · 4 years ago

Text

Inquiry

GIF from plutoandpersephone

Pairing: Dr. Frederick Chilton x Reader

Author’s Note: In vain I have struggled …with the formatting of this story. Did I use html? Yes. Does it show up correctly when I preview it? Yes. Will it show up correctly when it’s posted? Knowing this website, probably not. I’m posting despite the (possibly) faulty formatting because I will snap like a stale rubber band if I have to fiddle around with it for a minute longer. That said, I hope you enjoy because this was fun to write (but not to format)

Frederick Chilton’s heart was beating far too quickly for something as mundane as writing an email. Normally, he could compose a message in a matter of minutes with little concern for how the recipient would react to his autocratic demands.

This time, however, you were on the receiving end.

And Frederick deeply cared what you thought.

It would have been easier if this was for a work-related matter. As the hospital administrator, Frederick often sent you updates about policy changes or questions regarding your patients. He wrote these emails effortlessly, addressing you like any other member of his staff while ignoring how his heart fluttered whenever your name appeared in his inbox. With the small exception of inquiries about your weekend (something Frederick never did with other employees), his correspondence to you remained strictly professional.

Until now.

It had taken months, but Frederick finally worked up the nerve to ask you on a date. It was non-traditional, asking someone out via email, but Frederick considered asking over the phone or in-person too risky; the chance of rejection was already high, he didn’t need to add to it by stumbling over his words or blushing in your presence like an imbecile. An email allowed Frederick time to organize his thoughts and select the right words to convey just how much you meant to him.

Writing may have been the safest medium, but it wasn’t the fastest. Fifteen minutes had elapsed and Frederick was still struggling with the salutation: ‘My dearest’ seemed too intimate, ‘Good afternoon’ too formal, ‘Ciao’ too pretentious, ‘Ahoy’ too …nautical.

Frederick fiddled with his pen and leaned back in his chair, refusing to acknowledge that he was out of his depth. His love life was preternaturally dormant, yes, but he was a man of science, not to mention a patron of the arts -he could write a simple email. He was just overthinking it, attaching too much significance to every word as if selecting the wrong one would result in rejection.

Sighing, Frederick left his desk to fetch some alcohol, a time-honoured cure for writer’s block. As he poured the amber liquid from the decanter, Frederick reassured himself of his literary prowess: he’d written a myriad of scientific articles, many of which won awards, and there was growing interest in a manuscript he was working on about the Chesapeake Ripper.

He sat back down at his desk with bolstered confidence and a glass of brandy. The opening still eluded him but, rather than dwell on it further, Frederick used a placeholder and began to work on the body of the email.

As he wrote, Frederick likened himself to a suitor in a Jane Austen novel confessing his fervent desire to his beloved. He only hoped that his prose would convince you to give him a chance since, considering the weather in Baltimore, he wouldn’t be strutting out of a lake anytime soon.

Inspired by this little reverie, Frederick soon finished. He took another sip of brandy before looking over what he had written.

To:

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Inquiry

[Insert salutation]

Ever since we met, I have ardently admired you. Your warmth, beauty, and quick wit are just some of the ways you brighten my day whenever I am graced with your presence. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?

I await your reply with hopeful anticipation.

Yours,

Frederick

Satisfied, Frederick turned his attention to the greeting, lightly tapping his pen against his lips as he thought. It took a few moments, but Frederick finally settled on ‘Dear’, a classic opening. After switching out the salutation placeholder for ‘Dear’ followed by your name, Frederick read over the email one last time. He took a large drink of brandy before selecting your email address and pressing send.

Contrary to his belief, the beating in his chest didn’t slow once the email was dispatched. What if you rejected him? How would he bear to see you at work every day? Worse, what if you never responded, leaving him to perpetually wonder whether it was a silent rejection or a lost email?

The familiar ping of an email notification snapped Frederick out of his self-made purgatory. He took a few deep breaths, a half-hearted attempt to quell his rapid heartbeat, as he wondered whether it was a good sign that you responded so quickly. His eyes flicked to his inbox: there, sitting atop of messages from psychiatry journals and irksome colleagues, was a reply.

Only it wasn’t from you.

Frederick’s brow furrowed. Why was a nurse replying to the email he sent you? It didn’t take long after opening the email to realize his mistake: choosing the hospital’s listserv rather than your email address, effectively sending out his declaration of love to the entire hospital. He let out an almost inaudible whimper, knowing it was too late to retract the message.

Apparently, he could control the content of the message, but not its audience.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Inquiry

Ask them out in-person, you insecure little weenie!

Frederick hastily deleted the email, but two more popped up in its place like some sort of electronic hydra. It didn't take long for the wolves to respond, and Frederick could only stare at the screen in horror as the replies began pouring in. He swore he could hear laughter in the hallway and began debating whether he should move out of the country or just the state. Depending on how widespread knowledge of his blunder became it may even be wise to leave the continent. Vienna was supposed to be nice this time of year.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Inquiry

Girl, you can do better!

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Please remove me from this list. Thanks

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

EVERYONE STOP REPLYING ALL!

Sent from my iPhone

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

‘Ardently’? Who does Chilton think he is, Mr. Darcy?

Gillian Coverly, M.D.

Psychiatry Resident, BSHCI

[email protected]

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

More like Mr. Collins, am I right? LOL

Jonas Dhavernas

Security Services | 555-3193 ext. 0315

Frederick harrumphed (he was definitely not a Mr. Collins) and made a mental note to schedule those two for the night shift for the foreseeable future. However, his indignation quickly gave way to woe as he continued to scroll through the other emails in his inbox.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

lol desperate much

Luis Torres, PhD

Director of Forensic Psychiatry

(Tel.) 555-3193 ext. 0583 | (Cell) 555-2391 | (Fax) 555-8942

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

I’d like to remind everyone that this listserv is for work-related emails only.

Please be professional.

Ralph Chlumsky, Patient Care Manager

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

SERIOUSLY STOP SENDING EMAILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sent from my iPhone

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

As a member of HR, I would like to remind you that you are not obligated to say yes to a date just because Dr. Chilton is your superior.

Please let me know if you would like to file a complaint against him for harassment

Sincerely,

Judith Mulrooney

Senior Human Resources Manager

(Tel.) 555-3193 ext. 3598

Nothing is impossible. The word itself says ‘I’M POSSIBLE!’ – Audrey Hepburn

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Can everyone please stop replying all? Our servers can’t handle the load and might crash if this continues.

Thanks,

Your friendly neighborhood IT Department

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Hi, can anyone give me a lift to work tomorrow? I’m in Federal Hill

To: [email protected]

From: ellen.ostrowski @bshci.com

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Everyone please stop replying all! It’s not that hard, and IT said our server will crash if we keep on doing it!

Warmest regards,

Ellen Ostrowski

Administrative Assistant for Dr. Bryan Dancy

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Ellen, your “everyone stop replying all message” was also a reply all!

Ugh, I work with IDIOTS!

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

Don’t get all high and mighty with me, Shawna, you also used reply all! Frankly, your use of reply all when the server is unstable is just what I’d expect from a lunch thief.

Warmest regards,

Ellen Ostrowski

Administrative Assistant for Dr. Bryan Dancy

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

FOR THE LAST TIME I DID NOT STEAL YOUR LUNCH!

A groan escaped Frederick’s lips. How could this have happened? He wasn’t a tech genius, but he kept au courant with the latest gadgets and even implemented smart technology throughout his house. Of course, there had been small mishaps in the past, like when his iPhone autocorrected his last name to ‘Chicken’ and he couldn’t stop it, but nothing of this magnitude. As much as he wanted to blame his snarky colleagues for his misery, he had only himself to blame.

His iPhone was right: he was a chicken.

Frederick was in the middle of researching jobs in Austria, the dramatic part of his brain having overpowered the rational part, when your name appeared in his inbox. His eyes flicked to the now empty glass of brandy on his right before clicking on your reply.

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Inquiry

I would love to, Frederick. How about Friday?

-Your Elizabeth Bennet

P.S. Judith, no need to get HR involved

Frederick blinked, not quite believing it. Despite his cowardice, and the mortification which ensued, you’d said yes. A smile slowly spread across his face, unaffected by the multitude of emails flooding his inbox in reaction to your answer.

He was still smiling when the hospital’s servers crashed a few moments later.

Tag list: @madpanda75 @obsessionprofessional @madkingcrowley @im-like-reallythirsty @burningg-red @nikkijmorgan @misssirenlove @zoeykaytesmom @mommakat32 @thatesqcrush @southern-magnolia @evee87

#frederick chilton x reader #dr frederick chilton x reader #chilton x reader #frederick chilton #dr frederick chilton #hannibal

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1

- Chapter 2 -

The sayings of Wen Mao were not exactly what Nie Mingjue would consider to be entertaining reading, but he put in the effort to learn them in the hope that it would explain something about the people around him. They were always speaking in significant tones and looking at each other, finding meaning in the spaces between words, and he felt as though he was falling further and further behind in understanding what they meant.

“- be beheaded for tens of thousands to revile,” he murmured, staring down at the words with a frown. It seemed straightforward enough at first glance, but surely it couldn’t mean what it said, not with how Wen Ruohan regularly behaved. “Wen-da-gongzi?”

Wen Xu twisted to look at him.

“This particular saying – the one about people who oppress others and do evil using the power of their clan –”

“You’re still reading that old thing?” Wen Xu asked, sounding exasperated. “Why? Haven’t you memorized it yet?”

“I can recite it,” Nie Mingjue said. “But I don’t think I understand it. Aren’t these sayings supposed to serve as a guide for behavior for the Wen sect? Take this saying. It can’t be right. I mean, your father is always going around doing things on the basis of his sect and clan having the most power. So is the nuance in the definition of ‘oppress others using the power of your clan’, maybe, or possibly in the interpretation of what’s being defined as ‘evil’? Or is there some other –”

“No one listens to those sayings,” Wen Xu said. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? There’s the rules on paper and then there’s the rules in reality, and only the latter matter.”

“But then why have the rules on paper at all?” Nie Mingjue asked, utterly baffled. The Nie sect didn’t have sayings, like the Qishan Wen sect, nor rules, like Gusu Lan; it had principles, basic ones, and everything else in the world could be debated based on how those principles interacted with reality. It was simple and straightforward, yet allowed for a certain degree of independent thinking and flexibility: as long as you could account for your behavior with one of the principles, the action was generally considered acceptable; if you couldn’t, you knew you had done wrong. “If they’re not being used, then they’re hardly worth the paper they’re written on. Just replace them with new ones!”

“Knowing the sayings of Wen Mao is our tradition.”

Nie Mingjue frowned, turning the words over in his mind and trying to understand what he was missing. “So the tradition is to know the sayings but not follow them?” he hazarded. It seemed utterly bizarre to him. “That’s very complex. Is the idea to teach people to think for themselves?”

Wen Xu laughed – the first instance of that that Nie Mingjue had heard, and it didn’t sound quite right, sounding less like a laugh and more like a strangled noise that echoed in the ear in a manner not unlike the yelp of an injured dog. “You’re getting further away, not closer,” he told him. “Just – do as you’re told, all right?”

Nie Mingjue was trying.

He attended the classes and did his best to excel in them. He maintained his training even when the Wen sect techniques didn’t work quite as well for the saber as Nie sect techniques. He took care of Nie Huaisang, ensuring as much as possible that he did the best he could in both classes and training.

He didn’t grieve for his father out in public where people could see, keeping his pain to the late hours of the night, when his weakness could not be used to hurt his family and sect.

It would all be so much easier if they just told him what they wanted.

It was another few weeks after the Wen cousins joined them that Wen Ruohan finally decided to attend one of the dinners himself, sweeping in unexpectedly to seat himself at the head of the room.

The start of the meal was as silent as a Gusu Lan banquet. Everyone had recently started talking a little more during meals, probably as a courtesy to the two of them since Nie Huaisang couldn’t stop running his mouth about everything and mealtime was the ideal place to catch Nie Mingjue up on everything he’d done that day, but now it was as if that had never happened, everyone reverting to the silent and gloomy atmosphere the meals had all had at the beginning.

At first, Nie Mingjue thought it was silence out of respect for the food, like it was for the Gusu Lan, or maybe just the quelling presence of an elder, but after a while Wen Ruohan finished serving himself, and then he looked down at them and began asking questions.

Nie Mingjue’s father had done the same, sometimes, but where he’d asked questions about their studies and training and general well-being, about their friends or their hobbies, wanting to know more about what interested them, Wen Ruohan seemed instead to take vicious pleasure in quizzing them all on various hypotheticals, testing their intelligence and retention and ability to deliver an answer on the spot.

Nie Mingjue was able to answer the questions directed at him, and Nie Huaisang lucked out in the first round – it was a question about poetry, moderately obscure but at least something Nie Huaisang actually knew – and the others were able to answer theirs as well, but in the second round Nie Huaisang was not so lucky and he got a question on sword forms.

“I – don’t know?” he said, sinking down a little in his chair.

All the other Wen children averted their eyes, except for Wen Xu whose eyes went vacant as if he were deliberately forcing himself not to really watch even as he did not turn his head away. A cruel smile played around Wen Ruohan’s lips. “How – disappointing,” he said, though his tone was far from disappointed. More like anticipatory. “You will need to be punished, of course.”

“For what?” Nie Mingjue interjected, forcing his voice to remain level and disinterested. “Not knowing the answer, or missing the logical fallacy in the question?”

Dead silence.

He looked up and met Wen Ruohan’s eyes.

“When you said I could practice on you, I didn’t think you meant that you’d be throwing yourself into trouble,” Wen Qing scolded. Her hands were shaking as she wrapped bandages around his chest and back, but that was fine – he didn’t actually think he needed bandages, since the bleeding had stopped, but it was, in fact, good practice for her so he didn’t say anything about it.

“If I didn’t interfere, he would have punished Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said instead. Wen Ruohan had actually given him a choice: three strikes with the whip for Nie Huaisang, for failure to answer, and two for himself, for insolence, or else ten for himself alone.

He’d chosen the latter, of course.

“He knows he’s your weakness now, you know,” Wen Xu said, standing by the door watching. Wen Chao, Nie Huaisang, and Wen Ning were all behind him, Nie Huaisang sniffling and Wen Ning biting his nails and Wen Chao’s tense shoulders up high by his ears. “He’ll use him against you.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged, then stopped when Wen Qing poked at him. “It’s not like it would be hard to guess,” he said. “And our teachers would have told him that we were close anyway. If he was always going to know, what does it matter to tell him?”

“Aren’t you worried about him knowing?” Wen Chao burst out. “Not that you care about Huaisang, but that you’re stupid over it – he’ll think less of you because of it. It’ll make it harder to avoid disappointing him in the future.”

The way he looked at Nie Mingjue’s back made clear what being ‘disappointing’ would entail.

“If it’s a choice between suffering pain and having to hold myself distant, I’d pick pain every time,” Nie Mingjue said, then smiled ruefully. “I’m not smart enough to play the mind games of Qishan, A-Chao; I’d only ever trip myself up even trying. I’ll find my own way to survive.”

Wen Chao turned away from him.

“You’d better,” Wen Ning suddenly said, his reedy little voice unexpectedly fierce. “You’d better survive.”

“He will,” Nie Huaisang said, and he was a little fierce, too. “He will.”

The cultivation styles of Qishan Wen and Qinghe Nie were not that different, even if the Nie used the saber and the Wen the sword, and Nie Mingjue had always had something of a genius for cultivating. Although he had suffered a setback at the death of his father, he was young and unwillingly resilient; once he was properly settled in at the Nightless City, he began to progress quickly once more, earning the praise of his tutors and teachers alike.

It drove Wen Xu up the wall.

“What’s the use of having extra years or height,” he snarled, viciously kicking a practice dummy, “if you match up to me so quickly? If we spar and I lose and he sees…”

It was not necessary for him to identify who ‘he’ was.

Nie Mingjue looked at Wen Xu, feeling helpless. “If I pulled my strikes, he would know,” he said, and Wen Xu jerked as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“You can’t say something like that!” he hissed. “That was almost an offer!”

Nie Mingjue was out of his depth again. “No, it wasn’t,” he said, and Wen Xu relaxed a little. “I was explaining why it wouldn’t make sense for me to offer –”

“You’re hopeless,” Wen Xu declared, scowling. “Don’t you have enough trouble, without drawing more on your head?”

“My shoulders can bear the weight of a little trouble,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug. “Besides, you have the harder hill to climb. I’m only his ward, not his son, after all, and anyway I only want him to leave me alone, while you want to impress him. If it costs me nothing, why shouldn’t I help you?”

Wen Xu was silent for a moment. “Some things will never be more than dreams,” he finally said, shaking his head, and Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure of what part of his statement he was reacting to. “Do you train outside of the regular hours?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at the abrupt subject change. “Yes,” he said. “I like to train in the mornings, before breakfast, and I meditate with Nie Huaisang in the afternoons. Would you like to join in?”

“I don’t see that I have much choice,” Wen Xu said, although for once he didn’t seem especially resentful about it. “It’s one thing not to have as much talent, that’s the disposition of the heavens, but not putting as much effort? Now that would be beneath me.”

Nie Mingjue nodded, understanding. “I’d be happy to have your company.”

“I don’t understand how you just say things like that,” Wen Xu muttered nonsensically, and stalked off before Nie Mingjue could tell him that he probably didn’t need to bother with coming to the afternoon sessions, since those weren’t really about his cultivation.

Instead, he put Nie Huaisang on his lap and helped guide his brother’s feeble qi through a full rotation, meridian by meridian. The doctors of Qinghe had helped put together this routine to strengthen Nie Huaisang, to empower his too-weak musculature and help build his foundation piece by piece so that he could one day create the golden core with his own efforts, even if they were weaker than most. It was time-consuming and exhausting for Nie Mingjue, who had to deal with trying to direct spiritual energy that wasn’t his own through an exceedingly complex sequence, and Nie Huaisang had complained about it being boring when they were back in Qinghe.

He didn’t complain now, though Nie Mingjue sometimes wished he would. It would make things feel more normal.

Nie Mingjue explained what he was doing to Wen Xu when he showed up, and to Wen Chao and Wen Ning and even Wen Qing when they unexpectedly appeared as well, but they all decided to sit in the little garden he’d found and meditate alongside him anyway.

“It’s a nice place,” Wen Chao mumbled, not looking at him. “And you don’t own it.”

Wen Qing shoved him. He shoved back.

“Of course not,” Nie Mingjue said, breaking them up with his hands, a little puzzled. “You and your cousins do. But if you find it peaceful and conductive to your meditation, you are welcome to stay.”

He wasn’t sure how quiet they really found it – he’d been born with his nose stuck in other people’s business and couldn’t help but offer unsolicited advice whenever he saw something that he thought could be improved, telling Wen Ning to prioritize finding his calm over any specific technique, walking Wen Chao through breathing exercises he thought would suit him better, showing Wen Qing the pressure points that could be pressed to help induce relaxation, even making small suggestions to improve Wen Xu’s form that mostly got glares and eye-rolls – but they came back every day.

Wen Ruohan attended dinner with them again only a week after the previous time, asking new questions and letting his eyes linger on Nie Mingjue and the way his actions were slower than usual, a smile curling his lips at the involuntary flinch Nie Mingjue gave when he twisted to respond to a question with a demonstration.

Wen Xu had advised Nie Mingjue to play up the injury, rather than try to deny or suppress it, in order to give the impression that he was nearer to his limits than he really was, a stratagem designed to reduce future injury, but Nie Mingjue had never really known how to dissemble.

He answered the questions directed at him with his tone a little short but carefully near to neutral, keeping his eyes down in what could be seen as respect. Perhaps Wen Ruohan found his little rebelliousness entertaining, but the questions didn’t seem that bad this time, and everyone was able to come up with something to satisfy him, even Nie Huaisang who grimaced and strained himself to recall the most basic concepts and Wen Ning who knew the answers but stuttered so badly in Wen Ruohan’s presence that he could barely utter them aloud.

When dinner was done, Wen Ruohan asked Nie Mingjue to touch his toes and laughed at him when he couldn’t, pushing his head down to ‘help’ his inferior flexibility and tearing the few marks the whip had torn into his skin open again as he did.

“Do better, next time,” he said, and left without demanding any other exhibition of talent.

“There’s a discussion conference coming up soon,” Wen Xu said, looking down at his mostly unfinished plate. Noodles, as always, with pork and vegetables in a sauce, pungent but not as spicy as Yunmeng, served alongside a too-thick lambs’ blood soup and delicate side dishes that were more appearance than taste; it was the usual food they got, and most of the time they all ate it quite happily. “He’ll be busy for a while, preparing for that.”

“Could you show me where the kitchens are?” Nie Mingjue asked instead of anything else. “I have the sudden desire for barbecue.”

Qinghe used more salt than Qishan and applied spices in a different fashion, focusing more on the savory meat and evoking sour flavors using vinegar; it took them the three incense sticks to teach the cooks how to prepare it, but that meant that by the time the food was ready they’d all regained their appetites.

“Aren’t there medical cuisines, too?” Wen Ning asked Wen Qing, slurping up the thick noodles that Qishan people apparently couldn’t do without but which at least were swimming in a proper soup for once. “To strengthen the muscles, replenish the blood, that sort of thing.”

“There are,” she said, looking thoughtful. “I’ll ask my teachers about it.”

“Can I come?” Nie Huaisang asked, and it was so unexpected for him to ask to take more classes that Nie Mingjue dropped the piece of meat he’d been dipping right into the sauce. “Hey, food is good! How boring can a class on food be?”

“I’m always willing to encourage your interest in things,” Nie Mingjue said, and everyone laughed at him even though he was being sincere. “I’m sure you’ll be an excellent chef someday, Huaisang, if that’s what you like.”

“You’re just calculating whether wielding a kitchen knife still counts as cultivating,” Wen Xu said with a smirk, which of course meant that Nie Mingjue held out his hands and pointed out that the Nie were butchers, after all, and that in turn made Nie Huaisang start complaining that cooking and butchering weren’t the same thing in the slightest. Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Wen Chao laughed at each of them equally, adding unhelpful comments all the while.

By the time they went to their afternoon lessons, it was as if Wen Ruohan hadn’t been there at all.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wen qing #wen ning #my fic #my fics

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Mentions of Death, and Smut

Chapter 2

The next week passes uneventfully, minus you being on edge. You hadn’t forgotten the red head’s words. Being benched is not at all what you wanted.

If anything you wanted to impress the infamous Black Widow. The team loves working with you and you enjoyed your time with them. When you got assigned to work with Romanoff you just knew you’d win her over, resulting in the whole team liking you. That didn’t happen however.

Instead you pissed her off doing the one thing you’re good at: kicking ass.

Now though, you try distracting yourself by training. Each time your fist connected with the punching bag or your muscles tightened you felt the tension roll of your shoulders.

But that lasted all of an hour, the ringing of your phone pulls you from your distraction.

“Y/L/N.” You answer breathless.

“Agent Y/L/N Director Fury is requesting to see you.”

Knowing better than to protest, despite your nerves, you agree and immediately get ready.

With the help of one of Tony’s fancy Audi′s you make it to Fury’s meet up spot in no time.

The mysterious man leans against the only table in the empty warehouse, leveling you with a stoic expression.

“Well if it isn’t the big boss man.” You smile and approach him.“ To what do I owe the nondescript meet up.”

He crosses his arms,“ you made quite the impression with Miss Romanoff.”

You have to reign in your expression, not wanting to appear afraid to the man in front of you.

“Well they say first impressions are everything.”

His expression doesn’t change.

“She’s not happy with you and when she’s not happy the team notices which effects team morale.” He speaks again before he can reply.“ Which means you need to fix things, now.”

“Yeah, and how am I supposed to do that? Miss Stone Cold Assassin doesn’t exactly want to befriend me.”

Nick’s eye narrows,“ try toning it down Agent.”

Sending a shocked gaze to Nick, you reply,“ toning it down isn’t my thing. I get the job done more than satisfactorily and I have fun while doing it. How about I just keep my distance from Romanoff and you only assign me to work with the boys. They get me.”

“Oh the boys get you do they?” His tone is completely sarcastic and his expression alone tells you he’s done discussing.“ That’s cute, except I don’t care.You and Natasha have just been assigned.”

Your eyebrows raise,“ come on Fury,” you groan,“ give me a break. You saw how unhappy she was with our first mission and I’m almost positive you know she ripped me a new one when we got back to the compound. Just,” you sigh,“ I don’t know, assign Clint instead.”

“It sounds a lot like you’re trying to give me an order.”

You stiffen instantly. No, you aren’t scared of Nick Fury, but you do respect him. What you just did, wasn’t all that respectful.

“Alright, I’ll work with Romanoff.” He raises a brow.“ And I’ll tone it down.”

With a quick smirk, he nods, hands you the mission file, and sends you on your way.

You know Natasha knows because the second you enter the compound she’s waiting for you.

She leans against the back of the couch clad in a tank top and the yoga pants, a sheen of sweat sitting on her skin. Most definitely just came from training.

You can’t help but take in her figure, eyes lingering on her exposed midriff and down the curve of her hips.

For those few seconds you can’t possibly deny how stunning she is. Obviously, right? It’s Natasha Romanoff. The one woman who could pull off look, as far as you were concerned.

By the time you refocus, it’s too late.

“Typical that you’re not listening.” She scoffs, eyes rolling and arms crossing.

It’s the hardest thing ever to not be distracted again as her arms push her breast up.

“Sorry I was distracted.” You frown.

Her eyes narrow,“ and what exactly has you so distracted?”

Right, cause you’re just going to admit that her body is what distracted you. She hates you already, pretty sure that wouldn’t play well.

“Nothing.” You run a hand through your hair.“ What were you saying?”

She’s silent for a moment, eyes searching yours. Painted in those green eyes is irritation, toward you obviously. But there’s the faintest hint of curiosity in them. She wants to know what distracted you, just as much as she wants to hit you for ignoring her.

“Wheels up in twenty.” She finally says, turning and leaving.

After you’ve finished packing you head out your room to the waiting Quinjet.

Natasha isn’t there yet, so you take a moment to read over the mission file.

The more you read the more anxious you get.

While there is no exact time stamp on the file, it’s clear this is going to be more than an over night type of mission. If previous missions like this told you anything, you know you’re going to be staying with Natasha for a stint of time.

Just as your thoughts start to linger on the idea of being with Natasha closely overnight, she comes up the ramp of the Quinjet.

For some reason you expect her to be in uniform but she’s opted out of wearing the black Kevlar, instead choosing a pair of black joggers and a matching hoodie.

A quippy remark instantly readies itself in your head, but you refrain from saying it. Deciding to just read as much of the mission file as possible.

The entire flight is silent.

You never thought silence could be overbearing but it is. It looms over you and makes you feel uneasy.

It was never like this with the guys, you would chat with them about almost anything on the flights. Hell, when you were with Tony or Clint it’s safe to say you had a jam session, music blasting through the Quinjet as you guys prepared for the mission.

This though, this was awkward. It’s like Natasha didn’t even want to look at you.

She placed herself at the pilot’s seat long before take off and hadn’t moved, even after she turned on autopilot.

It’s like a breath of fresh air when the jet lands in a clearing. The second the doors open you’re stepping out.

The clearing provides the perfect coverage for the jet and a quick glance around clarifies that you two will be walking a bit before you get to the safe house.

On the walk over, you don’t allow an awkward silence to settle.

“So, uh,” you pause,“ I wanted to uh, apologize-”

“Save it.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You chuckle in disbelief.

“You’re only apologizing because Fury told you to. You’re not actually sorry for your actions which means that apology is useless.”

Just like that, despite your efforts, awkward silence ensues.

It even carries into the safe house, which is just a covertly placed cabin in the woods.

A really nice cabin at that. Under extremely different circumstances you’d have called it romantic.

You and Natasha go to your temporary bedrooms and you reemerge before she does.

With the late hour you decide to make dinner. Courtesy of Tony Stark, the kitchen is fully stocked and you use the expanse of ingredients to make the one dish you perfected: spaghetti.

The scent alone intrigues the Russian red head and brings her out of hiding. Despite the stoic expression on her face, you see the intrigue in her eyes the closer she gets.

You notice in this moment that she’s not all that great at hiding her emotions. Or at least she hasn’t been with you. Or you’re just good at seeing behind the mask she puts up with everyone.

Making two plates of the pasta, you slide one to the spot Natasha is standing at and then set a glass of water next to it.

She eyes the plate and then looks at you.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow, then decide to jokingly ask,“ water not fancy enough? Would you prefer a Sparkling Water or a glass of wine instead?”

Green eyes narrow at you,“ do you have wine?” Her sultry tone accompanies a raised brow.

You stumble over a response, as you don’t know. But you go in search of wine, and find it. But what else did you expect from one Tony Stark then to have wine at a mission safe house.

“Surprise surprise. Apparently Tony knows what you like.” You comment, grabbing a wine glass and setting it beside the water.

Moving slowly, as if she were debating whether to stay or not, Natasha sits. Her gaze follows your every move.

Each second she watches you, you feel more and more flustered.

Part of you wonders if her eyes are watching dangerously, sizing you up in case she has to ‘otherwise incapacitate you’. The other part of you wonders if her eyes watch you as your eyes had watched her earlier, taking in your appearance and loving every bit of it.

You can admit that both parts in whole feel like prey.

Shaking it off, you pour her wine and then grab your own plate.

Much like every other moment with her today, it’s silent. Words aren’t spoken and apart from forks clashing on plates there’s no sound.

That’s a stark contrast to how the next morning goes.

The mission required recon. Simple recon. Check out the enemies base, size up the threat, figure out the best possible point of entry. All things were supposed to be covert.

Supposed to be.

Honestly, neither you or Natasha are sure what happened. One second you were hidden on a nearby hill, out of sight, out of mind. The next you were fighting through a barrage of enemies.

The outside of the base was littered with bodies. Unsurprisingly it got easier with each take down.

“So, our covers blown, what’d you say we finish this up now.” You jab a fist straight into the throat of the nearest bad guy.“ Get in, get the data, get out. I think we could handle that.”

For a brief second you make eyes with Natasha across the field and quirk in eyebrow in question.

You hear her sigh, followed by the grunt of the guy she took down,“ fine. But we go in the way we planned.”

“I hope you don’t mean covertly cause losing these guys is going to be a pain in the ass.”

“Get your ass to the roof Y/L/N.”

After handling the nearest guys, you and Natasha make quick work of getting to the roof and into the facility. That’s where things took a turn for the worst.

At first it was easy enough, you got in, got the information, but there were more bad guys than you expected.

It worried you instantly and for the first time in your career you doubted your decision. No because you aren’t skilled enough, not because this is new to you. You doubt yourself because you’re not alone.

This time around there’s someone else to worry about. Someone who, despite not having known her long, you care about.

“Hey Nat you-” you’re cut off when a bullet whiz pass you, leaving a very noticeable gash across your forehead.“ Ass.” You grunt and shoot him, twice for good measure.

“Now’s not the time Y/L/N.”

“No, I was gonna say, maybe we should-” Once again you’re cut off, but this time it’s because of Natasha.

Her grunt of pain followed by quick breaths in.

Your eyes survey the area and you don’t find Natasha. You do see the influx of bad guys headed in a particular direction.

Moving as quickly as possible, you get to her, eliminating the immediate threat as quickly as possible.

You see the blood before you see the wound, yet and still, your heart drops when you take in the bullet wound.

“Shit, hang on Nat.” The nickname slips from your mouth with ease, so much ease that you don’t pay any mind to it.

A couple more bad guys later and your kneeling beside the bleeding red head, applying pressure to her injury.

Those green eyes start to droop and you curse.

“Natasha, hey, keep your eyes open alright.” Your voice is starting to sound panicky.

Blood leaves her wound rapidly and it makes your heart pound in your chest. You nearly rip your jacket off, removing your shirt, and wrapping it around Natasha’s torso. Once it’s tied tight enough you put your jacket back on and turn to handle the last of the threat.

There’s only a few enemies left, which you can handle, but you’d much rather be tending to Natasha.

You run out of bullets just as the last guy comes charging at you. He’s much bigger than the other guys.

“Oh fuck off.” You groan and charge him.

Jumping up, you kick your feet straight into his chest and he stumbles and falls back. You take that quick second to throw a knife between his eyes.

Chest heaving with uneven breaths you hasten over to Natasha. Her eye’s flutter as she struggles to keep them open.

“Alright pretty girl, let’s get you outta here.” You mumble and scoop Natasha into your arms.

You instantly feel her blood against your skin, already having soaked through your shirt. It makes you move faster, the worry doing wonders to your adrenaline.

By the time you make it back to the safe house Natasha is completely unconscious and the second you lay her down you search for a pulse. Luckily you find one. It’s weaker than it should be, but you know she won’t die.

You make quick work of cleaning, sterilizing, and dressing her wound.Then moving her into her bed and pulling a shirt over her body.

The adrenaline wears off the second you step out her room. Your shoulders sag and you can’t help but stare at the blood on the floor. Natasha’s blood.

It’s in that moment that you understand completely why Natasha is so pissed at you. Your actions are stupid and reckless.

What you did today got her hurt.

As you clean the mess of her injuries you instill in yourself at that moment to never ever be the cause of her hurt. Because you hated seeing her like that. She looked so fragile, paler than usual due to blood loss, and broken.

Your thoughts finally quiet as sleep creeps up on you. Worry still plaguing you, you slip back into Natasha’s room and slide on to the floor beside her bed.

“You better wake up Romanoff.” You mumble before allowing yourself to sleep.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romonova #marvel x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #avengers #reader insert #mcu #Thin Line

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desidarling123 · 4 years ago

Text

FATWS Episode 4: A Definitive* Rank Ordering of Most Interesting Character Arcs, from Yours Truly

(*And by definitive I mean completely subjective, but yanno.)

IF YOU HAVEN'T FIGURED IT OUT BY NOW: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR FATWS. SCROLL AWAY NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT EM.

Now let's get into it:

1. John Walker

Let me start by saying -- the near-universal John Walker hate from fandom has always been largely undeserved, and that's a hill I'll die on. It comes out of, I think, a visceral sort of need to slot him into an easily understood black-or-white binary when, truthfully, he is neither, and I think this episode was the BEST example of that. The sheer range he exhibits in such a short time -- a handful of character moments and action sequences in the larger fifty minute episode -- serve to humanize him in a way that's messy and intense and very, very real.

Because MAN. Whether you were already sympathetic to John's plight or not, the death of his partner, Lemar Hoskins, is viscerally disturbing. There's no other way to put it. FATWS has not shied away from some pretty crazy onscreen kills, but this one was arguably the worst in how brutally mundane it was. Lemar was in the wrong place at the wrong time -- a man fighting amongst a whole room of super soldiers. He never stood a chance -- and yet, he still jumped in harm's way to save his best friend, a man in whom he saw indisputable goodness, even when the man could not see it himself. There's an obvious Steve/Bucky parallel here, but with a much darker and more realistic twist -- not all of us, after all, can be lucky enough to receive super strength that could save our lives. Lemar was always a regular mortal -- and for that transgression, he pays the ultimate price.

And then. What happens after. Oh. My. God. I felt Walker's rage and hopelessness through the screen. The death of that Flag Smasher -- at the hands of Captain America, no less, a man he'd admitted to admiring as a child not ten minutes earlier -- was brilliantly executed.

With the final shot of the townspeople recording the brutal murder it becomes overwhelmingly clear -- we are witnessing the tragic fall of a man who was, for all his previous missteps, trying to be a hero. But John's moral compass just died a meaningless, horrible death -- and without him by his side, Walker has become a man unhinged.

2. Bucky Barnes and Ayo

I debated putting this one at number two because I'd argue there were some weird elements to the writing choices made (more on that in a sec), but, nevertheless. Bucky and Ayo get slot #2.

That flashback to Wakanda got me excited, but I didn't expect my heart to get shattered almost right away. Oh. My. God. His interactions with Ayo BROKE ME. There's so much nuance in a scene that’s incredibly well-acted by both Sebastian and Florence — you see both of them in a moment that is incredibly pivotal for the former’s character, and we see the latter reacting with sympathy, strength, and enormous grace. I had expected a scene like this to be with Shuri (given that we last saw her with Bucky in the post credits of Black Panther) but, given the context of what was being performed (a final test of the trigger words) having Ayo there made a lot of sense. She could take him down if need be — but as the scene so wonderfully shows, thankfully, she doesn’t have to. Instead, she’s there to let him know that for the first time in almost a century, he’s free again.

Now, let’s get into some of the unevenness. I had hoped, at the end of the last episode, that Bucky had at least informed the Dora Milaje of his liaison with Zemo — that, perhaps, it had been Bucky’s intent to hand him over all along. Alas, that was not the case — Bucky, it seems, had broken Zemo out with little thought to — or perhaps simply silent acceptance of — the consequences that would come with it.

This is the part, again, where the writing felt a bit weak. We know from the opening shots of the episode that Bucky cares enormously for Ayo — they’re not simply soldiers in arms, but they’ve shared a moment of immense vulnerability together. We ALSO know that he cares enormously for T’Challa, for Shuri, and for Wakanda as a country (see Infinity War, where he says “I love this place” in reference to his new home).

So that begs the question — why? Why did he betray them in that way, besides sheer desperation for a lead? And it’s not one, I’d argue, that we are given a satisfying answer to. Bucky has been reckless to an alarming degree in the last few episodes, but not informing Wakanda of his intention to liaise with the man who killed their king feels like a MAJOR tactical oversight. Is he willing to burn everything down to win this battle against the Flag Smashers? Are these his self destructive tendencies kicking in? OR, is he just truly so blinded by his emotions surrounding his past that he’s willing to throw away what could very well be his future? Only time will tell. But I hope he’ll do right by Ayo and Wakanda, as he clearly has a LOT to make up for.

3. Baron Helmut Zemo

God. I love Zemo’s psychotic, problematic ass. Say what you want, but the man is the most efficient of them all and he isn't a super soldier or an Avenger. Over and over, he shows that he's truly smarter than them and always has been.

He doesn't get personal. He doesn’t get distracted. He knows exactly what his goal is, and he executes on it. Mans didn’t hesitate to unload several bullets into Karli, and as soon as he figured out what the vials were, he destroyed all except one. Like I said, the most efficient person on the team. Has arguably done more to forward the cause against the Flag Smashers/continued existence of super soldiers than anyone else and it’s only been a few days. Between that, his god-awful dancing skills and him shooting the eugenicist scientist without so much as a blink of an eye, I think he's a man after my own heart. I’m almost sad to see him get what’s coming for him come next episode. (Because y’all, he did still kill King T’Chaka, and there’s no way the Dora leave here without taking him out on a silver platter and an apple stuffed in his mouth). But again, let’s see how that pans out.

4. Sam Wilson

WHAT are the writers doing to Sam, I swear to God? We didn't get too much introspection into where his head's at during this episode, and when we did the treatment felt uneven at best. I think, in trying to have him create a rapport with Karli, the writers have created some areas of commonality that didn’t always translate as they’d like. It was also weird to see Sam swinging from the well-earned cynicism of the previous two episodes to the sort of wide-eyed optimism Steve used to portray. Perhaps that was simply to try and show Karli an alternative, but as the episode showed, she clearly wasn't buying (though, in Sam’s defense, he came pretty close).

Something about Sam’s characterization in this episode didn’t really do it for me — I would argue episode one and two were both stronger in that regard. Nevertheless, I’m hopeful that they’ll correct it in the next one.

5. Karli Morgenthau

Her treatment is arguably the worst of them all. She is young, yeah, but she oscillates at an alarming rate between spouting class discourse that, by this episode, feels largely derivative (like someone scrolled on Twitter and put a bunch of keywords together in hopes of evoking an emotional audience response) and homicidal tendencies that show a brutal yet fundamentally messy underpinning. Unlike Zemo, she is still too easily confounded, and that will come to bite her in the ass sooner rather than later. (See: The Power Broker)

Perhaps I'm meant to be rooting for her on some degree but I really can't -- she's cruel and sloppy, which I cannot forgive.

Oh, and she killed Lemar Hoskins and threatened Sarah Wilson. Yikes.

Overall Episode Takeaway: A lot of shocking moments and great acting beats for everyone involved (arguably some of the best of the series thus far), but the weakness of the writing does crop up in parts. Whether they'll be corrected for going forward is to be determined...

UP NEXT: Meta pieces for Sam, Bucky, John, and Zemo all in the works!

#fatws #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #john walker #fatws spoilers #tfatws spoilers #tfatws meta #karli morgenthau

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caspianjames · 3 years ago

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Hey there bestie, enjoy the prompt: Boggie (romantic) ❄️🥧🎼

Have a good day/night Cas!! 💜✨

here you go bestie ty so much i hope you like this!!!<3333

***

“Dude, snow is cold and you freeze every time you’re outside and cold fingers are horrible for guitar playing,” Luke exclaimed, throwing himself back on the couch in the studio.

Reggie snorted. Trust Luke Patterson to turn everything into a debate. “But just once,” Reggie whined. “Just one winter full of snow.”

Unlike Luke, Reggie had spent his whole life in LA. And sure, they had snow sometimes. But it wasn’t build-a-snowman or sled-down-a-giant-hill or build-a-fort kind of snow.

“Okay, Reg,” Alex said, always the calming force between Luke and Reggie, “when we start making money from gigs - like properly - we can go spend a winter wherever you want.”

“Somewhere really snowy,” Bobby said. He was sitting across the studio from them, gently strumming his guitar. He smiled when Reggie caught his eye and Reggie tried to ignore how it made his heart flutter.

“Like Vermont,” said Bobby, at the same time as Reggie said, “Somewhere like Canada.”

The room was silent for a minute.

“I mean, those are pretty much the same place,” Alex said. “Mountains, trees, maple syrup..”

“He has a point,” Bobby said, cracking another smile at Reggie. Reggie had to look away, scared his expression would give him away if he kept his eyes on Bobby for much longer.

They wrapped up band practice not long after, Luke calling them all a lost cause as the snow debate continued. They lingered, as they always did, reluctant to go home - Reggie to the arguments, Bobby to an empty house, Alex to parents that tried to set him up with girls every other week, Luke, who couldn’t even bring his guitar home with him because it would be confiscated.

Reggie escaped to his room as soon as he got home, trying to avoid the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was always there when he arrived home from being with the band, when his parents stopped talking as soon as he walked in the door and started shouting again as soon as he got to his room, as if that somehow meant he didn’t hear everything they said.

He was lying on his back on his bed, algebra book abandoned on the floor when the horn sounded outside his window. He knew who it was because Bobby was the only one of them who had a car - perks of rich parents who were never home, Reggie guessed. Not that he would know. The more important question was why was Bobby at Reggie’s house at 11pm on a Friday night, three hours after they had just seen each other? Reggie didn’t like (or did he?) the way it made his stomach flutter and his heart race.

“I’m going to Bobby’s,” he called to his parents. They were both in the living room, sitting in stony silence. Neither bothered to look up and answer. Sometimes it was nice to pretend that they cared where he was going or what he was doing anyway.

“What’re you doing here?” Reggie asked the minute he was seated in Bobby’s passenger seat.

“I have a surprise for you,” was all Bobby said, and Reggie tried to pretend that didn’t make his heart do a somersault in his chest.

“Okay,” he said instead.

They rode in silence. Bobby seemed - well, Reggie wasn’t the best at picking up social cues, but Bobby seemed almost nervous. Which was strange because this was Bobby, and Bobby was never nervous. He was the most self assured person Reggie knew - other than Luke, maybe.

“C’mon,” Bobby said when they got to his house. He practically dragged Reggie up the stairs. He was going toward the rec room, Reggie knew. It was Bobby’s safe space in the house, where he spent most of his time even when the rest of the house was empty. Also, it had foosball and air hockey.

But that wasn’t what the room looked like when they entered. It took Reggie a moment to realize because he was focused on Bobby, wondering why the other boy was wringing his hands together and fiddling with his bracelets as if he was nervous. So it took him a second to look up and see the room in front of him - the paper cut out snowflakes hanging on the ceiling and stuck to the walls, the white sheets that covered the ground with what looked like…packing peanuts? The way the hockey and foosball tables were pushed against one wall and used to prop up a white sheet over what must have been an umbrella, to look like an igloo. There was Christmas music playing quietly in the background. Reggie thought it was coming from the igloo, but he couldn’t tell for sure.

Reggie was nearly at a loss for words, which rarely happened. “You made snow?” He finally asked. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Bobby said, and Reggie was certain he sounded nervous now, like he was worried Reggie wouldn’t like it. “I know it’s not real snow, but you can make snow angels in it, kind of. And we can keep it like this all winter, and Luke can’t even complain about it being too cold for guitars. And I thought we could like, get styrofoam balls or something to make snowmen with except I don’t really know where to buy those so…”

“You made snow for me,” Reggie said again. It was all he could say, really. Bobby made snow for me. And the one thing he couldn’t say, but couldn’t stop from thinking either. I love him so much.

It seemed to bolster Bobby’s confidence anyways. “There’s more,” he said. “Give me a second.”

Bobby turned and disappeared from the room. Reggie stood awkwardly still in the doorway for a moment before making a decision. He bounced to the far corner of the room and dropped to the ground on his back. He spread his arms and legs out and moved them back and forth. It was sort of weird - the packing peanuts didn’t pack down like snow did, but they did spread out when he moved. When Reggie stood up, though, he was impressed. It did look like a snow angel.

Since Bobby still wasn’t back, Reggie made his way to the other side of the room and crawled inside the igloo. Bobby had put fairy lights lining the inside of the umbrella, and there were blankets and pillows on the ground and Bobby’s small TV in one corner.

Bobby came back as Reggie was making himself comfortable, carrying something that smelled amazing.

“I thought...well you like pie,” Bobby said as he crawled in carefully. He was pushing a tray ahead of him with two mugs balanced carefully on one end and a pie with two forks on the other. “And pumpkin pie is wintery. And...hot chocolate.”

“I love pie,” was all Reggie could think to say.

And then Bobby was leaning much too close and Reggie wasn’t moving away and when their lips met finally the only thing that Reggie could think was that maybe they weren’t good with words, him and Bobby, but maybe that didn’t matter because nothing had ever felt more right than kissing Bobby for the first time in the packing-peanut snow and fairy-light-umbrella igloo with Mariah Carey's new Christmas album playing in the background and the smell of pumpkin pie and hot chocolate in the air. And if he died tomorrow at least he’d have this moment forever.

#cas writes maybe #hope tag!!!!#boggie #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp boggie #jatp bobby #bobby wilson #reggie peters #jatp fic #writing prompt

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oceanera12 · 4 years ago

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501st headcanons?

Sorry, this took so long to answer: my work started back up! Hooray! But that means I haven’t been on my computer so...

Honestly, the 501st is harder for me than the 212th and I don’t know why so a lot of this was me just spitballing ideas and going, “Yes,” or “Nope!” so please forgive the lack of organization.

The 501st blue was picked out by Anakin because of his lightsaber color. The men like it too because of the major contrast with the white, unlike some lighter colors.

There was a Commander of the 501st before Ahsoka came along. Don’t know his name or anything, but let’s say he was a CC and he died early in the war. Like really early, which really stinks because he was training to be a Commander on Kamino and then he’s dead. So Captain Rex kind of took charge and everyone had a silent agreement the position would stay open out of respect for their fallen brother

Then Ahsoka came along and everyone approved of this small child so yay, Commander on deck again!

Rex headcanons!

Rex got his name for always winning King of the Hill (or the Kamino equivalent of it, which I imagine had to involve climbing up a ladder to the top bunk and fighting to remain on top).

Because of that, he got used to heights and has a pretty good head for high places (which is good since people really seem to like throwing him up, over, or down from high places)

Rex is the last surviving member of his batch

Everyone thinks the tally marks on his armor are for the number of battles lost or maybe won. Or maybe it’s people he’s lost or droid’s he’s killed. Or how many days the campaign has gone on for, each cluster being separate campaigns. Reality: it’s the number of times Anakin has come up with a stupid Skywalker plan and it somehow works. Rex started it as a joke, thinking it would only happen a few times. Now he just looks at them and thinks: “How the kriff am I still alive?”

Rex secretly likes the Coruscant Symphony (or whatever the Star Wars equivalent is) and will play the music in his earpiece on his breaks and before battles to calm him down or hype him up (depending on the situation. Usually calm him down because he is low-key panicking on the recent Skywalker plan)

Although Rex wields his twin DC-17′s, he is also a very good sniper. A fact that only a few people know so it’s very fun to watch the men’s reactions when he takes down a target from 1,000 meters away

Jesse and Kix headcanons!

Kix and Jesse first met as cadets when Jesse had to go to the med bay for an injury. Kix was there for some training and got to be Jesse’s “doctor”. They ended up bounding and would eat lunch together in the mess when they could.

Most people think Kix is Jesse’s impulse control. It’s actually the other way around. Jesse keeps a pretty level head and knows when to charge and when to stay down. Kix’s entire focus is on when a brother goes down and he will charge blindly into the fray to treat them. If Jesse wasn’t there to keep him put until it was safe, Kix would probably be dead.

Kix’s tattoo was a saying an old batchmate said a lot. Kix grew to appreciate it and had it immortalized on his head after that batchmate was killed by (you guessed it) a droid.

Jesse took a considerable less time deciding on his tattoo and was debating between the Republic cog or a shattered Separatist symbol. He ended up flipping a coin and got the cog. The reason the thing is so big was that he lost a bet-- and the winner got to pick how big to make the tattoo. Jesse ended up embracing it and putting it on his helmet.

Jesse and Kix got their tattoo’s at the same time. Kix would tell anyone that Jesse cried (which he didn’t) and Jesse would say Kix actually yelped or flinched with each prick (which he did). Most people believed Kix and thought Jesse was lying (since Kix worked with needles all the time)

When Kix has stayed up longer than forty-eight hours, Jesse will physically drag Kix to a bed and knock him out with a sedative. Once, Kix resisted so Jesse just knocked him out.

Kix is a better shot then Jesse. Jesse is better at hand-to-hand combat.

Kix grew out his hair in season 7 to hide the fact that he removed his chip (he didn’t have proof to what it was but he needed to study it so he removed it). Jesse never asked about the scar, determining that Kix would tell him when he was ready.

Hardcase, Dogma, and Tup headcanons!

Dogma and Tup were in the same batch. Hardcase unofficially adopts them as his little brothers (although Dogma acts older since he’s a bit more down to earth)

Hardcase has ADHD

Dogma has OCD

Tup started growing out his hair the moment he left Kamino and has only gotten trims off of it since. Dogma and Hardcase are the only people who are allowed to brush/touch it (After Hardcase dies and Dogma is... taken away, Fives is given permission)

Hardcase likes heavy rock music while Tup and Dogma are more classic rock.

Dogma is obsessed with the reg manuals (similar to Echo) and follows orders to the letter, something Hardcase and him disagree on a lot.

Tup is the peacemaker between the two and keeps the other from strangling the other.

When Hardcase dies, Dogma convinces himself it Hardcase’s fault for not following orders. Only later, after Krell shows his true colors, does Dogma realize it was Krell’s fault. Dogma shot Krell for Hardcase.

Dogma and Tup are allowed to talk to one another after Krell through communications and pending Dogma’s investigation. When Tup’s calls stop coming, Dogma panics a little thinking it’s his fault. Rex later calls him and tells him what actually happened.

Dogma takes the news as small mercy as he finds out the day before he’s sent to reconditioning.

Fives and Echo headcanons!

Echo is Fives impulse control.

Echo has a habit of repeating orders even after he’s an ARC trooper. Of course, no one is allowed to call him out for it (except Fives)

Of the two, Fives is a better shot while Echo is better with hand-to-hand and battle tactics. Echo’s more practical while Fives is more emotional.

Fives has nightmares about Rishi. Echo’s the only one that can calm him down.

After Echo “dies” Fives has imaginary conversations in his head with Echo because he needs his impulse control.

When Echo comes back he has actual one-sided verbal conversations with Fives in his room on the Bad Batch’s ship.

Appo headcanons!

Did you guys know Appo was promoted around the same time Rex was? I like to think that was the moment Anakin realized Ahsoka wasn’t coming back to the position and he didn’t want to steal Rex from her soooo...

I’m guessing both Rex and Appo took the same “crash course in being a Commander” because of the short notice.

Appo and Rex didn’t get along very well on a personal level. But in battle, they were a force to be reckoned with. Which was why Anakin made sure they lead separate parts of the Battalion.

Appo likes seafood.

And I’m going to stop there because DANG this is long.

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cotncandyboifics · 4 years ago

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1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 6

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 1,987

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: I hated writing this chapter because I love Logince and I'm intentionally writing this story so that Logince doesn't work and I just- my heart and my creativity have a conflict of interests here :')

...

Roman was left alone in his room, staring at the door where Virgil had slipped out silently a few minutes ago. He'd turned off his music, and was sitting up, staring, thinking.

What was even the point of asking Logan out? I didn't have any interest in him before, he was just a nerd who i never bothered, and he never bothered me... perhaps for the challenge? when I saw him in class today something just sparked, and i felt the need to pursue him. I didn't think he'd entertain it, especially so quickly. And what of Virgil?

What of Virgil?

Roman shook his head and stood, leaving his room to see what his parents were doing, and if he could help with dinner. He needed a distraction, and he knew homework wasn't going to do it.

...

The next few days at school were strange, to say the least.

Patton was the same, as far as the others could see. He tried figuring out some of the routes Logan took to different classes, just a few so as not to seem suspicious, but Roman was more often than not already there and bombarding Logan with his charms. Patton still caught him alone sometimes though, and did his best to make conversation about little things, just wanting to get to know Logan. They had an engaging conversation about Logan's surprisingly extensive knowledge about drug abuse, and Patton was thankful for the bits of advice he could get. They'd also run through proper methods for caring for various species of turtles.

Logan continued to hound himself about why he had accepted Roman's courting after such a short time knowing him, let alone that they were very... different people, to say the least. He'd told his father that one of his friends had requested an outing to a cafe to study for an upcoming calculus quiz. His father was reluctant but upon Logan's presentation of evidence of such atmospheres increasing the effectiveness of studying and concentration, his father granted him permission to go. Logan knew his father would never permit any,, frivolous activities, when Logan had so much academic potential. And Logan made himself feel the same way, acquiring knowledge and more importantly incredible accolades was all that mattered until he was out of school. And yet, here he was, about to go on a date behind his parents' back with a jock, very stereotypical of a teen and yet very atypical for him. He couldn't explain to himself why he'd allowed himself to get into this situation, but it wasn't causing any immediate problems, so he decided to try and let the topic rest.

Virgil was acting stranger than ever, at least from Roman's perspective. He seemed even more cold and distant, except on occasion he'd strike up a conversation. Sometimes they got rather lively, debating about which were the best Disney movies, even if they had very... differing perspectives on what messages they portrayed. Roman was baffled, Because he didn't think someone who was previously unconcerned with Roman for the most part could become so black-and-white, switching between completely ignoring and/or glaring at him, and coming into a room and immediately proposing a topic of conversation.

Roman had his hands full with courting his new love interest, and trying to figure out what was going on with Virgil. Virgil himself was very conflicted. Any time he saw Roman, his feelings became intense and he never knew how to act.

The group's dynamic had shifted accordingly whenever they were in class together. In Biology, Logan was usually hard at work on their report, Patton doing his best to help. Roman often attempting to fluster Logan in any possible way he could, and Virgil, ever unpredictable.

...

Finally Thursday came, and Roman got into his mustang to pick up his date. He drove quietly up to a large white house, with a very systematic garden laid out in the front. He got out and leaned against the closed passenger door, and messaged Logan, letting him know he was there to pick him up.

Logan had hoped Roman would have the sense to pick him up around the block, but upon exiting his house and seeing him directly in front of the house leaning against his red mustang with a single red rose in his hand, Logan brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and massaged it, trying to keep from getting aggravated before their date even began. He walked over slowly, trying to keep an open mind instead of letting his logical self shut everything about Roman's love language down.

Roman had to keep himself from staring. Logan was dressed... well, typically his own style, but... he had gelled his hair back so it became one big dark tuft instead of it's usual gentle messiness, and he had on a silk navy button up and a black bowtie instead of his trademark necktie. He had on Black corduroy pants that accentuated his slender legs, and white and blue converse that complemented his shirt and pale skin. Roman was impressed at the attention to detail yet the simplicity of his date's outfit, and was indeed that much more attracted to him.

"Well hello there," Roman said as Logan neared, looking him up and down, "don't you look ravishing."

Logan's cheeks glazed a bit. "As do you," was all he could think to reply. Roman had on a dark red v neck and a black and gold baseball jacket, dark grey ripped skinny jeans with a silver chain, and red checkered vans. Logan realized he'd let his eyes linger on Roman's exposed collarbone a moment too long. God, why am i acting like this?

Roman just smirked and stood aside, opening the passenger door he'd been leaning on and making way for Logan. Logan sat, his knees nearly touching the dash. Roman got on one knee and dramatically presented Logan with the flower. Logan smiled gently and took it, examining it. Roman shut the door and made his way around to the driver's side and got in.

"Will you relay the whereabouts of our destination or will it remain a mystery to me?" Logan asked as Roman opened his door, not looking up from the flower.

Roman smiled with a glint in his eyes. "Well it would be no fun if i were to spoil the surprise, now would it?" He put the key in the ignition and started the car, and the engine hummed smoothly to life. "Completely unrelated to said surprise, but have you had dinner?" Roman rolled down his window and rested his forearm on it.

"Yes, unfortunately I follow a strict meal plan." He adjusted his glasses.

"Well, i wont question that, but that works for me." Roman left it at that and pulled out his phone.

"Would you happen to have a music preference?" Roman asked as Logan smelled the rose, and finally set it down in his lap.

After a moment of thought, Logan replied, "Well I suppose not. I don't listen to much music other than classical on occasion, and at this point i find it rather..."

"Boring?" Roman mused.

"Insufferable," Logan smiled.

"Alright, I'll enlighten you to something other than Beethoven and Bach," Roman reached for the aux chord, plugged his phone into it, and picked a particular song he felt was... fitting for the moment. The song intro began, and Roman pulled the e-break down and shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road.

he said "let's get out of this town,

Drive out of the city, away from the crowds..."

I thought "heaven can't help me now,"

Nothing lasts forever...

Logan watched things pass on the road, absentmindedly tapping his ankle to the beat. He didn't recognize the area of town they were heading to, but he didn't expect Roman to kidnap him or anything, so he just observed.

But this is gonna take me down

He's so tall, and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well.

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

Logan looked straight ahead at the road now, wondering if Roman had selected this specific song for any reason.

Say youll remember me,

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah, hah...

They were driving up a hill now, and the road was getting steeper. Logan was beginning to wonder if he should have just rejected Roman from the beginning.

Roman sensed his unease, and turned the music down so that it was just background noise. "I promise I'm not about to murder you in the woods," he said with a small laugh, "There's just a nice spot up here to... observe," he assured vaguely, glancing at Logan.

He nodded with a small smile from the passenger seat, returning to looking around as they passed sloping driveways and mossy-trunked trees.

Just moments later, they emerged into something of a clearing, with a cul-de-sac and a large meadow. There were clusters of small flowers and clovers all over, and the trees cleared perfectly to display the sun was crawling toward the horizon.

They parked and Logan got out, and turned to realize Roman was still in the car, seemingly reaching behind his seat awkwardly and rummaging around. He emerged with a plastic bag and a rolled up plaid blanket. Roman locked the car and led them to the meadow, where he dramatically unrolled the blanket and laid it out, after ruffling it in the wind. Logan sat cross-legged facing what would soon become the sunset, the bottom of the sun's visible sphere nearly dipping itself below the horizon.

Roman sat as well, beginning to dig through the mystery bag, Logan now paying him attention. Roman pulled out two large paper cups, with plastic tops and straws in them. He handed Logan one of the cups, and Logan began inspecting it. It appeared to be a milkshake, likely chocolate flavored due to the brown hue... It looked rather delightful. Logan took a sip and was not disappointed; he'd never actually had a milkshake, at least not since he was very young, so he had to attempt to hide his enjoyment.

"That is quite tasteful," He looked back to Roman, who was tasting his own milkshake.

"Yeah, you struck me as a chocolate type," he leaned back on one hand. "Hope you like the view. I thought it would be nice as a first date to watch the sunset and talk."

Logan gazed out at the sky that faded from blue to purple to red to orange and a bit of yellow, clouds peppered around and absorbing the hues. He certainly did appreciate the view.

"Alright, let's talk then."

...

A few hours later, it had gotten dark and stars were spattered across the sky. Logan was laying with his hands behind his head, watching the sky, and Roman was laid next to him, leaning up on his side and watching Logan's eyes. They'd talked about anything, from childhood memories to opinions and briefly about their home lives. Roman felt very... usual. Everything was going perfectly, and he could feel that fact slamming against his chest. Do I actually like him or is this all just a game to me? Am i being fake, or completely real?

Soon Logan checked his wristwatch and informed Roman it was time he be heading home. They stood, and Logan shivered as Roman collected the blanket. He sighed upon seeing Logan's arms loosely held around himself, trying to keep warm.

Roman rustled his baseball jacket off and draped it over Logan's shoulders.

They made their way back to the car, and as Roman drove them, all Logan could do was lean his head on the window and stare up at the hazy white moon.

Roman dropped him off, walking him up to his door. Logan thanked him for the evening, and tried to return Roman's jacket, but Roman insisted he hold onto it. They shared a small kiss on the doorstep, and bid each other goodnight. Roman drove off into the night, pondering heavily.

#ts logan #logan sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #roman sanders #patton sanders #ts patton #sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #high school au #slow burn #prinxiety #logicality #patton x logan #roman x virgil

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captainjaspenor · 4 years ago

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Fire in My Bones - Ch 2

Here it is everyone! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. Once again the chapter title is from a song, let me know if you figure out which one (this week’s is pretty easy I think)

Last chapter the song was “I See Fire” by Ed Sheeran which @lancelotapricot figured out!

Without further adieu: chapter 2, ladies and gentlemen.

Title: Fire in My Bones

Show: Cursed

Pairing: Weeping Monk x Reader

Warnings: Violence, language

Summary: “From the trees, shrouded in smoke, he emerges. The Weeping Monk. Around you the terrified screams of the Fey and the pained groans of the dying fade away. You forget the acrid smell and taste of the smoke and ash as it burns your throat and lungs. You forget Nimue, who is hiding behind you, clutching at your cloak, shaking like a leaf.”

Chapter 2: Someone’s Bound to Get Burned

You startle awake at the sound of thunder rumbling across the night sky. Shit. You glance over at the boy lying on the ground a few feet away from you. You’re relieved to see that he’s still asleep. Squirrel is curled into a little ball, shivering slightly from the damp air coming from the moss on the rock around you.

You groan softly and sit up. Your neck protests the movements, since you fell asleep in an awkward position with your back against the rock wall. Fortunately, no one has found the two of you in your little hiding spot while you’d dozed. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but it seems the previous day’s events had worn on you more than you’d realized. You didn’t sleep soundly, having dreamt of red paladins and burning buildings, but then again, you hadn’t been sleeping soundly for years.

You glance up at the sky. The rain is no longer coming down in thick sheets. Good. Mud would make it too easy for the red paladins to track you. It will be dawn in a couple of hours, then you will have to move. The two of you cannot stay in this rock indefinitely, not with the red paladins searching the wood around you. The rock is a good hideout, but eventually you will be found. You have to get Squirrel as far away from Dewdenn as possible. And there’s only one place you can take him: Nemos, a sanctuary for the Fey kind, but the journey will be a long one and you haven’t the supplies necessary to get the two of you there. At least, not yet.

You pass the time cleaning your weapons. You’d already cleaned the blood from them the night before, but you’re restless. You run the clump of damp moss up and down the blade of your sword slowly, taking comfort in the familiar motion. You try to keep your mind from wandering, but despite your best attempts your thoughts keep turning back towards the Weeping Monk.

He’d kept his hood up and the smoke from the fires had obscured your vision, so you hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, but his tears were legendary. You tried to imagine what he looked like, underneath the tears that strike fear into even the most seasoned warrior’s eyes. You can’t help but remember the way you’d felt drawn to him as he’d stood there, less than twenty feet away from you. It’s ridiculous. You know that. To be drawn to a killer such as the Weeping Monk. He’s slaughtered countless Fey, and though your relationship with your fellow Fey kind is a complicated one, you wouldn’t wish the wrath of the monk on even your worst enemy. The rumors of his skill with a blade are as often told as the ones of his weeping eyes. You certainly have no wish to be on the wrong end of his blade. But, you wonder, what would it be like to be to be face-to-face with the monk, without a blade between you? You shake your head, dispelling such foolish thoughts from your mind and focus on the task and hand.

You wait until the first signs of morning light to wake Squirrel. You hate to interrupt the boy’s dreams, but time is of the essence. At first he doesn’t respond when you whisper his name, but after you give him a few hearty shakes, his eyes open and he stares blearily up at you, groggy but awake.

“I have to leave. I need to retrieve a few things before we can go. And I need to get Xanthos.”

Squirrel sits up, fully alert now. “I’ll come with you!”

“No. You have to stay here,” you say.

“What if you run into any red paladins? I can watch your back!” he argues.

“I can move faster without you.”

“I promise I can keep up!” Squirrel pleads.

“I said, no!” you snap. Squirrel’s enthusiastic expression falls and he looks away. You immediately regret raising your voice. “I’m sorry, Squirrel. But I promised Nimue I’d keep you safe.” You decide to take a page out of Nimue’s book, “Will you stay here in case any of the other villagers come searching for a place to hide? Please.”

Squirrel perks up at the thought of having an important task. “Okay!”

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Don’t reveal yourself to anyone except another Fey, do you understand?” you lecture. He rolls his eyes at you but nods anyway. “Good.”

You debate giving him one of the daggers from your boot, but with your luck the boy will cut off a finger before you get back, so you decide against it. You make him promise to be careful one last time before taking off into the wood.

You find Xanthos in large clearing where you often bring him when you want to practice your swordplay. Or when you need to escape your fellow villagers’ accusatory glares.

“Good boy. I knew you’d come here,” you say to him. He head butts your chest affectionately. You give him a quick once over to make sure he hasn’t been injured before climbing into Xanthos’s saddle.

Not far from the clearning you bring Xanthos to a halt and dismount. Around you the trees are so tall, you can’t see the tops of them when you look up. They’re older in this part of the forest, which means they’re bigger too. You look around for a moment before spotting a familiar carving in one of the trees. You drop to your knees at the base of it and reach into the large cavern the roots have created. Your hand gropes around in the damp leaves and moss beneath the tree for a moment before your fingers whisper across a piece of burlap. You grab it and pull it out. You check inside and sigh with relief. All the food you and Squirrel need is in this sack. You’ve kept it filled with supplies and ready to go at all times since you were young. You’d known one day you’d need it. Although, you’d always thought it would be Nimue you’d be fleeing Dewdenn with. Supplies acquired, you go back for Squirrel.

You pull on Xanthos’s reigns and slow. You’re almost to Old Man Rock, but something doesn’t feel right. You listen to the forest around you, but you can’t hear any birds. You dismount and tie Xanthos’s reigns to a low hanging branch. You put your hand on the hilt of your sword, but you don’t draw it. Not yet.

You make your way silently down the path. As you come over the top of the hill, your heart stops. Ahead, the Weeping Monk has Squirrel pressed against the rock. You duck behind a fallen tree. It seems your heart has managed to restart itself, because now it’s pounding in your chest. You slowly lift your head so you can watch as the monk questions Squirrel. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you figure he’s questioning Squirrel about any other surviving Fey from the village. The answer Squirrel gives him must not be sufficient, because he shoves Squirrel’s head against the rock. You have to grit your teeth to resist the urge to jump out from behind the tree and stop him from hurting the boy any more, but you know there’s no way you can beat the monk in a fair fight. So far it doesn’t appear as though he intends to kill the boy so you force yourself to wait and watch instead. You have to hold back a laugh when Squirrel spits in the monk’s face. Only Squirrel would dare to spit in the face of the Weeping Monk. When the monk grabs him and begins to pull him away you are both relieved and distraught. Relieved because he didn’t kill the boy, but distraught because you have no idea what cruelty he might have in store for him.

You weigh your options. If you run out there now, you’ll most likely get yourself and Squirrel killed. Your other option is to wait and follow the pair and look for the perfect opportunity to rescue him. But if at any point that bastard tries to kill Squirrel, consequences be damned, I’ll do my best to gut him like a fish.

You follow them at a safe distance for the rest of the day. Track would be a better word for it. You fear getting too close and have the monk sense or hear you, so you stay well clear of him. Based on the tracks you can tell the monk has Squirrel tied up behind his horse and you silently curse him every time you see a spot where he’s tugged the boy off his feet. Xanthos can feel your apprehension and he is restless the entire ride. As the sun begins to set, you know he’ll likely set up camp for the night, so you slow your pace. You don’t want to accidentally stumble upon him.

You’re surprised when a little while later you see the glow of a campfire in the distance. You would have thought he wouldn’t make one, to avoid alerting anyone nearby of his location. But then again, who would be dumb enough to attack the Weeping Monk’s campground.

Thankfully the wood is thick, so the branches and the pitch-black night shield you and Xanthos. The sound of a twig snapping nearby alerts you to the fact that you are not alone. You thank your eyes for the ability to see so well in the dark, because you’re able to watch as a little over half a dozen Fey emerge from the trees and creep up to the sleeping monk. I guess these guys are dumb enough. You hope they will keep the monk occupied long enough to give you the chance to sneak in and retrieve Squirrel. You urge Xanthos a little closer so you’re better able to see. When one of the Fey steps into the light of the campfire you swear softly. They’re Sky Folk. You recognize Josse, a decent enough guy seeing as he’s always been kind to Squirrel. You want to help them, but you’re still no match for the monk and you know a rag tag group of Fey with farming equipment as weapons aren’t either. Your best bet is to wait for an opportunity to grab Squirrel and then run like hell.

Josse places his pitchfork against the monk’s chest. “Get up, you murdering pig.”

Squirrel pops up, “Josse!”

“Squirrel, you alright?” Josse asks. You keep your eyes on the monk. He doesn’t fight as Josse’s companions bind his hands. You have the overwhelming feeling that something is wrong here. The monk is too calm and was captured too easily. Why hasn’t he put up a fight?

“Ever been dragged by a horse with a hot coal up its bum?” Josse taunts the monk.

“Not that I can recall.” You shiver. You hadn’t thought he’d sound like that.

“Just kill him, Josse!” Squirrel calls out. You’re inclined to agree with him. The best thing would be to kill him now, while they still can.

“What did you have in mind for Squirrel, you sick bastard?” Josse demands.

“I’ve got no interest in the boy. He’s bait,” the monk responds. You swear silently. You should’ve known this was a trap the minute you saw the campfire.

“Bait? For what?” Josse wants to know.

Before he can respond, the monk’s horse brays angrily. The monk looks over to him. “Be still, Goliath.” Goliath, you think, an apt name. The monk turns back to Josse, “For you.”

You can only watch in horror as he takes down Josse. While Josse is busy recovering from the blows to his ribs, the monk wraps Goliath’s reins around the other man’s neck and rolls over his horse’s back, strangling him. He easily dodges the next man’s frantic knife swipes and before disarming him and using the man’s own blade to kill him. From his saddlebag he retrieves his dagger and throws it, embedding it in the third man’s eye. He frees his sword from its scabbard and kills Josse in one slash, leaving the blade in his neck. The monk kicks another man into the fire before retrieving yet another weapon from his saddlebags, which he sinks into a man who’d been attempting to creep up behind him. Finally, he disarms the last woman and uses her blade to kill her. This all happens within a matter of seconds. And he does it all with his hands tied. The rumors about his skill do not give him justice. He is the best you’ve ever seen. And you’ve trained with the best Fey warriors alive.

You are frozen, both in fear and in awe, but the monk turns and approaches Squirrel sword in hand. You have to do something. Squirrel has outlived his usefulness and now the monk is going to kill him, you’re sure of it. You dig your heels into Xanthos’s sides and pull a dagger from your booth. The monk hears you the second you emerge from the trees, but it’s too late. Your dagger flies through the air and hits him in the shoulder. He stumbles back, stunned. You swing over the saddle and use Xanthos’s momentum to plant your feet square in his chest, knocking him to the ground. The sword falls from his hand and you kick it away.

“(Y/N)!” Squirrel calls out. You stumble to your feet and unsheathe your blade, using it to cut Squirrel free from his bonds.

“Find Nimue,” you command as you lift him into Xanthos’s saddle.

“What about you?” Squirrel’s tearstained, fearful gaze looks down on you.

“I’ll catch up to you,” you lie. “Follow the Old Fey. Find Nemos,” you whisper and give Xanthos’s hindquarters a slap, sending them tearing off into the forest. Behind you, you hear the monk stand. Reluctantly, you turn.

Your knees nearly buckle when you come face to face with the Weeping Monk. He’s tall. So tall that even though he stands five feet away, he still towers over you. But it’s not his towering height or your crippling fear that is making your knees shake. No, it’s the fact that in the firelight you can see the monk’s face for the first time and you realize that he’s handsome. You hate yourself for thinking it, but it’s true. By the gods, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. And he’s about to kill me.

For a moment the two of you stare each other down, not moving. The monk reaches up, pulls your dagger from his shoulder, and tosses it away. Off to the side, Goliath whinnies and stamps his feet in anticipation. Your concentration is broken, and you glance over to where the massive horse stands. Out of the corner of your eye you see the monk dive and roll, coming up with one of the fallen Fey’s swords. He lunges at you and you barely have time to deflect the blow with your own blade. Stupid. You will not make that mistake again. You thrust your blade towards head, but he leans back and you miss him completely. You bring your blade back and go in for another thrust. He dives to the side and your attack goes wide again. You slash at his chest, but he parries your blade easily. He delivers a thrust to your left, narrowly missing your shoulder. You spin away from his blade and try to catch his unguarded side, but his blade is already there to meet yours. Gods, he’s fast. He disengages and the two you step back.

He wastes no time coming at you. He delivers a succession of slashes and cuts, which you barely manage to block. He swings at your head in what would surely be a killing blow. You duck and swipe at his legs, but he nimbly leaps over your blade. While you’re down, you use the opportunity to retriever your parrying dagger from your scabbard and slash up with it, hoping to catch the monk under the chin. He narrowly avoids your knife going though the bottom of his skull. Instead the tip of your knife only leaves a small cut. It dribbles blood down his chin. He brings his fingers to his chin and looks down at the blood, as if surprised. Honestly, you’re a little surprised too. It is one thing to hit the Weeping Monk with a throwing dagger when he’s not paying attention, but to actually land a blow on him (however small) in a one-on-one fight is an entirely different matter. You send a silent thank you to every Fey who has ever trained you, no matter how reluctant some of them had been to do so.

This time the monk comes at you like a storm. Even with two blades, you’re barely able to block his blows. While you’re otherwise preoccupied trying not to be impaled by his blade, the monk uses his free hand to deliver a strong jab to your ribs. You stumble back and gasp, trying desperately replenish the breath he’s knocked out of you. He doesn’t give you the chance to recover. He keeps coming. You bring your dagger up and block his next blow. Your grip is weak thanks to your lack of oxygen and he easily disarms you. He tosses your dagger away. Finally, you suck some much-needed air into your lungs. You manage to stand and parry his next slash. You lunge at him but he knocks your sword away. The monk spins, using his momentum to bring his sword around in a crushing blow. You bring up your own blade to block it. The impact sends a painful spasm up your arm. The monk lifts his leg and kicks you in the chest, hard. You stumble and fall back, your sword drops to the forest floor next to you. You’d thought you couldn’t breathe before, but this kick has truly knocked all the air from your lungs. You lay there, gasping in small puffs of air as your diaphragm tries to recover.

The monk steps over you. A mistake. You may be unable to breathe, but your legs still work. You sweep his legs out from under him and he falls to the ground next to you. You use these precious seconds to focus on refilling your lungs. Next to you the monk lets out a furious noise. He grabs his sword from where he’s dropped it and rolls on top of you, using his body weight to keep you pinned down. He places the blade against your neck and glares down at you. For the first time he takes a good look at the woman who has made him bleed not once, but twice and he freezes.

“Your eyes,” he says, stunned.

You’re still a little dumbstruck at the fact that the Weeping Monk is currently on top of you––the very handsome Weeping Monk, you might add––and you can only parrot his words back at him, “My eyes.”

“They’re golden,” he says, staring down at you in wonder. In this momentary lapse of the monk’s, you’ve been slowly moving your hand toward the campfire next to you. “What kind of Fey are you?” he asks. Finally, your hand reaches one of the burning logs from the fire. You grab it and slam it into the side of the monk’s head. A shower of sparks rains down on you. The monk is only stunned for a second before rolls to the side and pops to his feet.

You grab the burning log in both hands and swing it at him like a club. He expertly dodges each blow. When you stumble after a particularly hard swing, he takes advantage and grabs the end of the log, yanking it away from you. He kicks your legs out from underneath you and you fall to the ground. He swears and drops the log, inspecting the burns on his hands. You turn and crawl towards your dagger. You grab it and roll onto your back, only to come face to face with the tip of the monk’s sword. You drop the dagger and hold up your hands in surrender.

“Get up,” the monk says. Slowly, never taking your eyes off of his, you stand. He keeps his sword leveled at your chest.

“Please, let Squirrel go. He’s no threat to you,” you beg.

The monk looks at you, confused. “Who?”

“The Fey boy. Please, let him go.”

“I’ve got a sword to your throat and your pleading for the boy’s life?” the monk asks, incredulous. “Who is this boy to you? Your brother?”

“He’s just a boy from my village,” you answer. The monk doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you. You want to scream at him to get it over with and kill you, but you remain silent, waiting to see what he does.

Finally, he raises his sword. You don’t look at it, instead keeping your eyes locked on his. At least let your face haunt his dreams. He brings his arm down and everything goes black.

_________

The end!!!.....Kidding! Hope you guys enjoyed. The next chapter will be up in a week or so!

Taglist:

@rogershoe @nj01 @lancelotapricot @brooklymw @herstory-study @archaeologydigit

#cursed netflix #cursed fanfic #weeping monk x reader #weeping monk #weeping monk fanfic #weeping monk fanfiction #lancelot x reader #lancelot cursed #fire in my bones

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beyoncesdragon · 4 years ago

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Sokovian Bastard (Pietro Maximoff)

Requested: No Warnings: Swearing, Pietro being a cocky bitchTM

Summary: Being an avenger has never been easy, and after a certain Sokovian joins the team, it really just does not help your concentration. At all. Especially because the two of you just wouldn't get along.

My Masterlist

Part 2

I thought of myself as a rather nice person. Not overly nice maybe and very much depending on my mood and my surroundings, but, and I stand by that, not unnecessarily rude. I could even keep my cool with Senator Stern last year (many may remember him from that very much public and very much embarrassing Senate Armed Services Committee in Washington, D.C. where Tony Stark had been summoned to attend to and in which Tony had skinned the annoying git alive). So yes, I would describe myself as a nice or maybe, collected person. At least until last winter’s mission in Sokovia, where we happened to run into a pair of genetical mutated twins, going by the name of Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Originally recruited by one of the leaders of HYDRA, Mr. Wolfgang von Stucker, Pietro and Wanda had taken part in a series of tests involving Loki’s mysterious scepter (in sweet memory it may be now) they had somehow mutated into not quite humans anymore. Wanda received a number of mental abilities, Pietro acquired the ability to move at supersonic speeds and other physical features (of where his disturbingly pleasing looks weren’t part of, I had seen before and after footage, much to my displeasure). In Sokovia then, a country which was entangled in constant war and strife and also had been the former base of HYDRA cell operations, they had crossed their path with us for the very first time. Long story short; it wasn’t a very friendly meeting, though you could maybe blame it on the circumstances. Later on, they somehow affiliated with Ultron which was a problem or/and enemy we (or Tony and Bruce) had actually created ourselves…which wasn’t a fact that stopped them from joining Ultron’s side, making them to our opponents. Somewhere along the line they had then switched sides and so on, now both of them were Avengers and helped us with our…duties I guess you could call them. Of course that was very rushed and short and not very much in detail, but it sure does the job.

Now, where Wanda wasn’t the problem and after they cut strings with Ultron, I had started to like her a lot and quite fast, her twelve minutes older twin Pietro very much was. I don’t know how he did it and I had never met someone like this before, but he somehow managed to push all my buttons just right to drive me nuts in no time. I also don’t know when our mutual dislike started, but it must have happened in the very beginning, back in Sokovia. Maybe my hatred started when he had mocked me a bit too long and a bit too personal after pushing me off a balcony at the HYDRA basement back then. Or when he had nothing but bad words to say about my technique of combat or when he decided not to help me when I almost got overwhelmed by Ultron’s soldiers. I only know that my dislike, as well as my attraction (which made that whole mess a bit more complicated) must have been instantly. We just wouldn’t click, not even when he almost sacrificed his life for Clint, back on that godforsaken rock Ultron had planned on dropping down on our beloved planet. So the bickering went on and whilst everyone seemed to get along perfectly fine with the twins, Pietro and I kept lashing out at each other at every chance we’ve got. And that was very often, much to the annoyance of Wanda and the rest of the Avengers.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the cool glass in the conference room. Tony had called in a meeting and almost everyone had appeared on his call. Steve sat around the black table in the center of the room, Natasha and Clint next to him. Wanda had occupied the only more or less comfortable chair in the room and Banner was eyeing her grumpily. Tony leaned against the wall, waiting like everyone else until Maria Hill would appear. Thor wouldn’t come around until we’d throw a party (somehow those invitations never got lost on their way to Asgard…) and Rhodey would probably arrive with Maria. Vision sat hovering in some corner, attentively eyed by Wanda. The door opened and Maria and Rhodey entered the room but leaving the door open. “Can we then start?” I asked slightly impatient. I wanted to take a nap since I hadn’t slept well tonight. Which was also entirely the fault of Mr. Maximoff who had decided to run laps until three o’clock on the complex meadow, which happened to be pretty much in front of my window. The light of his abnormal speeding actions had light up my room until he stopped, making it impossible for me to fall asleep on time. Shutting the light out was close to impossible, since his gleaming energy-thingy he did, was not only bright but also seemed to shine through every crack. Adding to that was the fact that I was already angry, so I laid awake until about four AM.

“Atta princess, I knew that you are not quite fond of me, but trying to start a meeting without me…I am hurt.” My eyes snapped up at the sound of the familiar sokovian accent and I frowned. “Just sit down, your late already and preventing this to be over soon, speedster.” I snapped angrily and he closed the door before leaning on the wall in opposite of me. “What got your panties in a twist today, moody blue?” he mocked with a crooked eyebrow.

“Actually, darling, you did.”

His other eyebrow shot up. “I am all ears.” I growled angrily. “I hope you are. Because if you ever plan on running around until three o’clock on that bloody lawn, I will rip your face off. Do you know how fucking bright that light is when you run around in the night? Bright and not possible to shut out. Just like you, obnoxious and not possible to shut out.” He huffed softly, tilting his head. “Always so angry…” he mumbled and I could’ve strangled him now and here if it wasn’t for Tony who had decided to end our brawl by letting a holographic map appear in the middle of the room. “Enough kids, we know you love each other but now we must return to the reason we’re all here.” I sighed and nodded, focusing back on Tony. He pointed at a pulsing dot on the map, zooming in with a flick of his hand. “We located another HYDRA base. A small one, but one less is one less, no matter how big.” He immediately had the attention of the whole room, me being no exception.

The discussion went on back and forth. Shall we just blow that darn building up? Or shall we go in and check if there were any prisoners or on going experiments happening? The latter would mean that we would have to risk our lives for something that was very uncertain would be there, on the other hand…we couldn’t just kill innocent people just because we were too lazy or practical to risk our own health. We were the Avengers after all, almost dying was part of the contract. After debating another half an hour, we finally decided on storming the basement. For that we would first get inside, check if there was anything, then blow that thing up. Taking as many prisoners as possible and getting out alive would be the optimum…but with a look at Pietro I disagreed silently. Maybe he could miss out on that alive part for all I cared. He caught my eyes and rolled his, before looking back at Stark.

“We should always go in groups. I’d suggest the twins together, Clint and Natasha, Rhodey if you want to come with me…” Steve found my eye and gave me a nod. “Team, love?” I nodded with a grin. “It would be a pleasure.” Banner cleared his throat. “What about me? Can I stay in the Quinjet…?” Tony nodded slowly. “I thought because you complained about stress the last few missions it would be more safe…Vison if you could back up Bruce…?” Bruce nodded quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine with that. So I’ll blow that thing up on your word.” Tony nodded. “Exactly.” I frowned softly. “It would be a waste of cover and energy if he would land to drop us off…shall we parachute out?” Pietro laughed softly. “I don’t know if you realized it already princess, but we’ve got what…one, two, four people of eight can fly themselves. How about those who can fly take someone with them?” I glared angrily at him. “What you actually intended to say was, that you are scared of parachutes, right?” I sassed back, looking back at Tony again. He, like a few others had that partly amused and partly annoyed look on their faces that always appeared when the two of us skirmished again. Rhodey chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. But I have to agree with Pietro…it would be easier and quicker.” I nodded softly. “Alright, if you say so. So who with who?” I asked, avoiding Pietro’s eyes.

“I am not carrying that 90-pound asthmatic anywhere.” Tony exclaimed dramatically and Steve rolled his eyes. “I could take him.” Vison offered quietly and everyone was quick to agree. “I’ll go with Wanda.” Pietro then said but now it was my turn to sneer. “Maybe that is not the best idea, speedster. No offense but since your sister is smaller than you are, maybe you are too much for her to carry safely to the ground. No offense Wanda.” She just smiled softly. “None taken. I think you’re right…probably you should come with me.” I nodded softly, giving her a small smile. Pietro huffed in disbelief. “Wow sister…that hurt. Besides I strongly doubt that she’s any easier to carry than I am.” He mumbled dismissively under his breath. “What are you implying with that speedster?” I snapped sharply, pushing myself off the wall. “Oh nothing. And can you stop calling me speedster, please.” I snorted. “If you stop with that princess-crap.” He just shrugged. “Not gonna happen anytime soon, sorry princess. I just love how fired up you get over it.” I rolled my eyes and tried my best to ignore him. “Alright…now Pietro you can come with me, Clint and Tony…?” Rhodey offered and everyone agreed. We then went through the whole plan again, as a quick repetition.

“Just one last quick question: I kinda missed when the mission is taking place.” I piped in at the end, regretting my question the second the words left my lips. I should’ve just asked Banner later or something. “In two days, princess. Have you not paid attention? The Quinjet is currently being fixed and updated. Looks like your wandering mind is another thing you should try and get under control.” I snapped up at his comment. Was he actually referring to my weight right now? Or was he just…I couldn’t tell, his face was completely emotionless. “Great. Are there any more questions?” Nat asked, getting up slowly. Everyone shook their heads. “Hope that works out.” Clint said with a sigh.

“What can even happen? I mean we’ve got our local Lighting McQueen in the flesh on our team and he apparently doesn’t only know everything but can also assist as a life coach…” I mocked venomously, shooting Pietro an angry glare. “How original.” He growled back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking away from me.

There was only one ray of sunlight that feel through the clouded sky and through the window and he happened to stand exactly there…and that was only making it more obvious that he looked fucking fantastic. What ugly irony that was. With that amused, boastful twinkle behind the infamous azure eyes and that fucking smirk…paired with that disgustingly cute sokovian accent; the most insufferable and cheeky git I had ever met in my life. “Drooling again?” his sneery voice ripped me out of my thoughts and washed over me like icy water. “Oh, in your filthy dreams maybe, Maximoff. However, I was thinking of every way you could fortuitously die. Y’know, “someone” could accidentally lock you up in that basement and leave you behind. No one would notice until it’s too late.” He just snorted amused, leaning back against a column. “I am scared, princess.” Tony sighed softly.

“Are the lovebirds done now?” I snorted irritated, before leaning back at the column facing him and looking down on the ground. “Sorry, go on.” I mumbled, inspecting my nails carefully. I felt Nat’s eyes on me but chose to ignore her for now. She would probably approach me anyways, sooner or later.

I grabbed a towel and a bottle of water and quickly pushed it inside my bag before throwing a last glimpse back into my room. I already wore my training gear, there were no keys to take with you, and everything else FRIDAY would provide quickly. I was ready for my training with Nat. My eyes fell on my floor-length mirror at the back of my room. I liked what I looked at, I was satisfied with my progress I had achieved in training so far. But maybe…my thighs could use some more attention? Pietro’s dismissive comment gnawed at my self-esteem, even though I kept telling myself that I was just reacting overly sensitive. He had probably not even meant it that way. And if he did…well then he was an asshole. I closed the door that locked immediately with a quiet peep and jogged, the duffle over my shoulder, down the hallway. If I would keep that pace I would even make it on time…or not. Pietro stood in the hallway, his eyes focused on a thin device in his hand. At the sound of my steps he looked up, posture immediately tensing.

Oh wonderful.

I planned on just simply jogging past him, but Pietro seemed to have other plans. He positioned himself right in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest and successfully blocking the way. I slowed down. “Get out of my way Sonic.” I huffed roughly, but with a mocking lilt to my tone. “Sonic now, yes? How often do you think about me, making up all those names just to try and annoy me with them, hm, princess?” he asked, his lips turned into a lazy, self-satisfied grin. Bloody… “Try to annoy you? Oh my dear supersonic Hedgehog, I think I did more than that already. But back to your question…not that much, you just happen to run through my thoughts once in a while, funny enough, always when I see you. Else, you are practically non-existent. Now move.” A blatant lie, obviously, but who needed to know that right? No one, especially not him.

“And I think I could sense that flat lie all the way from Sokovia…” he warbled softly, still that mocking smirk on his annoying face. “Sure pretty. And I am sure that if you would be in Sokovia right now and I would stand in my room, looking out the window, I could still see your monstrous ego all the way. Now would you mind and step the fuck aside, please.” He just huffed irritated, probably because he didn’t received the answer he wanted. I however passed him with a light skip in my step, hurrying off to the training facilities.

“You’re late.” Natasha called as I opened the glass doors. “I’m sorry. Would’ve been on time if I hadn’t run into a certain post-transition metal…”

“You mean…quicksilver?”

“as I was saying, I would’ve been on time.” Natasha arched her eyebrow. “What is that even between the two of you?” she then asked, fastening her boxing glove again. “Between Pietro and I? That is hostility in its purest form, dear Natasha.” I snorted, pulling the glove over my hand using my teeth. “Likely paired with great hatred and dislike.” I added, fishing for my other glove. “I see that. But why?” I shrugged rolling my shoulders back. “Guess we just don’t roll well.” Natasha still had that frown on her face. “And there isn’t more?” I gave her a skeptical look. “What more should there be Nat? Thought you wanted to start with training?” she shrugged softly, going into the first stretch position. “Alright then. Let’s warm up our cold muscles…if there are any.” She added with a wink and I rolled my eyes amused.

“You sure I am not…uhm, too heavy for you?” I asked Wanda quietly as everyone in the quinjet started to get ready. The atmosphere was calm and composed, everyone was preparing for today’s mission in his own way. “What?” Wanda asked with big eyes, a smile playing around her lips. “Where’d you get that fear from? Course I can carry you, it’s not like you’re that much taller than I am?” I shrugged uncomfortable. “Yeah but you are so…petite, kinda? I am not quite that slim love.” Wanda laughed it off. “Whatever. Don’t worry about that okay?” I nodded, returning her smile carefully. Jesus, Pietro’s comment really messed more with me than what I’d originally thought. Speaking of him, my eyes fell on his sitting frame just that second. He had his chin resting on his fists, looking relaxed as he observed the others. He wore his skintight suit, especially designed by Tony himself. Tony had once explained to me, that Pietro’s suit was made out of special fibers that would resist the strong friction that would occur and in a result, wouldn’t melt. Melted clothes was a problem we’d faced with Pietro in the first few days and Stark had been quick to solve them. I blinked my thoughts away, tearing my eyes off his frame and quickly walking over to Cap. “Nervous?” he asked as soon as I stepped next to him. “A little bit? I’m glad that I don’t have to jump out of the plane to let myself get caught by Tony and Rhodey though.” Cap laughed. “I am glad too. But Nat’s done that couple o’times. She’ll be fine. And I don’t think you have to worry about Pietro…” I gave him a dark look, “and I doubt that you do, but I am sure it all will go well.” I nudged his side playfully and he shot me a grin. “Now come on, I think I saw Rhodey and Tony give the sign.” I nodded quickly, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. My eyes met with Natasha’s and I quickly nodded at her. “Good luck Nat.” she just grinned softly, nodding back.

“I saw you looking.” Someone mumbled next to me and I almost groaned. “Good luck to you too, Pietro.” I simply decided to say, earning a surprised look by the blonde. “That wasn’t what I said.” I shrugged, not looking at him. “But uhm…good luck to you too.” He suddenly mumbled, stepping a few steps back as the jet opened his cargo hatch before jumping out into the night. Natasha followed him after a few seconds, not hesitating a moment. I grabbed Wanda’s hand. “Ready?” I asked, carefully eyeing the yawning abyss. The wind howled and pulled at my clothes, the dark clouds looked like scary, puffy monsters bellow us. “Ready. Let’s go!” Wanda exclaimed and we let ourselves fall into the sky. The wind was ear-splittingly loud and it was incredibly cold as I clung myself at Wanda with all I’ve got. “I’ll let go now! I need my hands, okay?” Wanda yelled close to my ear and I could only nod. The fall stopped abruptly as we hovered in the air for a few seconds. “Don’t let go.” Wanda suddenly said, and that was the only warning I’ve got before we flipped around and speeded towards the ground. I could even scream anymore, all I could do was dig my fingers into Wanda’s clothes and close my eyes.

I was still shaky when Cap and I started to run towards a ventilations flap right above the ground. That would be our entry into hell, about twenty feet away from the basement and cameoed in the forest. We had only found it because of FRIDAY’S scans. “You got anything to open that?” he whispered quietly and I gave him a sly look. “I mean I’ve got a screwdriver but that could take a while.” His face dropped. “First challenge and we fail.” I grinned, stepping towards the grille. “Kidding. Tony equipped me.” And with that, a red laser started to steadily melt away the bars in a somewhat rectangular shape. “Thought so.” Steve muttered, ripping the part out with one pull. “Ladies first.” It was dark as in a cow in that darn shaft and I prayed that the blueprints Tony had somehow hacked into, were updated and we would reach the hallway we’re supposed to check out soon. Turns out that they were up to date and we soon reached another flap. After cap and I had removed it in the same way like the first one, it was our time to check out the different rooms that adjoined the corridor. “You go right, I go left, we check out two rooms and we return. We can’t split too much.” I nodded, carefully making my way towards the right side. I could hear my heart beat loudly when suddenly light flashed up, the clicking and humming of the automatic light sounding through the corridor. I looked back at Steve who grinned at me innocently. “Whoups?” I just shook my head amused. “Well done, old man.”

Someone had caught up on us. Not particularly us as in Steve and I, but there being intruders – avengers – in the building. Out of nowhere red lights started to blink and an alarm went off. “Unpleasant.” I mumbled under my breath, burning a small cross into the iron door of the room I had just checked out. It had been empty except for a few computers, tables and chairs but it all was layered with dust and dirt. It was the third room Steve and I checked out that looked like this. We were most likely in the area where they kept their old stuff or summat like that.

“Nothing?” I shook my head. “Maybe this is like…an old archive or something. They don’t do active experiments over here.” I shrugged, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Nat? All good?” I then whispered, pressing on my earpiece.

“We’re clean…nothing but computer stuff and maps. We scanned it all, FRIDAY should’ve already received everything. I’m just wondering where they are?”

I frowned, Steve shooting me a worried look. “What do you mean, they?” he asked now as well.

“We haven’t found one HYDRA agent yet…Team iron cans, how’bout you guys?”

I grinned slightly at her mocking call, waiting for Rhodey and Tony to answer.

“Same situation over here…Twins?”

It was quiet for a few seconds before someone answered.

“West Wing, we’ve got them all. A little help would be appreciated.”

It was Pietro, sounding slightly out of breath. “Copy that, we’re coming.” I replied without hesitation, checking my tracker. “We’re quite close…just a few floors away from us.” I informed Steve who kept looking at me funnily. “What?” I asked insecure, scratching my neck. “Nothing. I just thought you’d like to lock him up somewhere here and not go and save him…” I rolled my eyes. “Well I can’t lock him up if I don’t have him, can I? Now come on!” and we sprinted through the empty corridors. “I hope this isn’t a trap…” Steve breathed as we slithered around a corner. “Don’t think so.” I mumbled, dodging a bullet and jumped at its shooter. Just a few corners ago, we had finally come across some very confused HYDRA agents. “We’ve still got the element of surprise.” I pushed out between two powerful hits that knocked the man out. “You look like Nat.” Steve suddenly remarked, throwing his shield down the hallway. “That is the greatest compliment I could ever receive. Thanks man.” he grinned, fishing his shield out of the air. “Welcome darling.”

It really wasn’t a trap. Wanda and Pietro just had had the luck to crash a meeting or something, which was why the rest of the building was close to deserted the moment we went in. Now…it wasn’t. Guards came from everywhere now, the air was filled with various sounds of gunshots, the sound of Tony’s unibeam repulsors and Cap’s shield knocking out people. It was going great so far. We had now all reached a rather tall built complex, some sort of industrial hall or something. Tanks stood around, similar to the ones in Sokovia, some trucks and even a wrecked looking jet sort of thing. A bitter smile crossed my lips as I read the dusty lettering on its side; SHIELD. With two bullets into the engine, I made it close to useless, with two others into the tank I sealed its fate. That thing would explode the second you used it.

Two agents stormed towards me, one looking rather bulky and…well scarier than the other one. I had the latter knocked out with a bullet in his leg, however, that wouldn’t work with the first one. He swung a truncheon that had the imprint of the HYDRA logo, and he was annoyingly precise with it. I escaped my death by ducking behind the wings of the jet before the black stick came smashed down the second later. My skull would’ve been smashed into smithereens if I’d waited one more moment. By the gods… I twisted my two knifes between my fingers as I stood up again, blocking another blow successfully. What I forgot was his legs, which was why he was able to kick me across the room with his iron capped boot. I groaned as I hit the floor. Sucker…my fingers found my button with the laser pointer as I tried to get him away from me. I managed to burn a hole in his shoulder, but right afterwards he somehow managed it to reflect the laser back to me…hitting my hip. I screamed in pain and immediately deactivated the laser. That was going wonderful, really. “Looks like you need help, princess.” I closed my eyes and groaned, pushing me up again. Pietro approaching me in the state I was in right now, was not what I had planned happening. This cocky little shit would remind me every chance I’ve got. On the other hand…I really needed help with that one. “For once…I do.” I pushed out grumpily, seeing the gigantic son of a… whatever mutation that was, approach again. “Say please.” Pietro mocked, a triumphal gleam in his eyes as I looked up to him. Oh how I hated this cocky little bastard. “Please Pietro.” He winked only, extending his hand towards me, helping me up. “Wasn’t that hard, wasn’t it?” I huffed quietly, not looking up again. Pietro was gone in the blink of an eye. I took a deep breath before running towards the soldier again. Pietro had kept him occupied quite a bit. His nose was bleeding from the Sokovians punches and he stumbled around like a beaten pup. His annoying stick however was still in his hand. I made it to my mission to change that. It only took a precisely thrown knife to make him drop the bat and distract him long enough that Pietro could belt a solid bar of iron over his head. He dropped to our feet unconscious, but not dead.

“The NATO will deal with them. They’re on their way.” Tony’s voice suddenly sounded through the facility and made Pietro and I snap up. “Wonderful.” I whispered, the adrenaline that had kept me fighting disappearing from my system. The injury the laser beam had caused me hurt so bad, that white specks were dancing in front of my eyes. “Easy there…” someone suddenly said, and I felt someone gripping my arm. “Our little missus is hurt…she should get medical treatment as fast as possible.” Pietro said next to me, carefully pushing my arm over his shoulder. “I can walk McQueen.” I snapped weakly, knowing damn well that I couldn’t. He just laughed and gave a side eye. “And you could’ve also finished that soldier on your own, I bet?” I huffed again. “I had it under control.” That made him laugh even louder. “Just shut up.” And I did, trying to ignore how good it actually felt to have his arm wrapped around me.

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro #maximoff twins #marvel imagine #marvel #reader insert #imagines #imagine #fanfiction #multifandom #age of ultron #avengers #avengers imagine #steve rodgers x reader #tony stark x reader #natasha romanov #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

Text

Humans are Weird “An alliance.”

“Keep them warm ending.”

I thought there were a few things I needed to tie up with the latest series. It’s been super fun, and if you guys can think of any more similar ideas, I would love to write them.

this has been the funnest idea to write that I’ve been given for a long time :)

Sunny opened the door quietly peering into the darkness. The pale illumination of Jupiter's spiraling storms casting the room into a dim luminance. Leave it to Adam to make space his nightlight. She stepped quietly through the door listening as it whispered shut behind her. The room darkened sharpening the illuminated contours in her vision.

The man slept curled up on his side, the blankets had been kicked down below his feet, and his knees had been drawn halfway to his chest. One arm supported his sleeping head and the other rested at a 45 degree angle atop the cheap army-issued sheets. Lines of white light reflected from Jupiter’s stormy surface traced the outline of his exposed shoulders, arms and collarbones through a patch of darkness obscured his chest.

Despite her size, Sunny moved silently across the room making it to the side of the bed and peering over into the darkness.

Two tiny orbs of reflected light flashed into existence between the man’s body and his arm.

The air filled with a high pitched growl, more like a whine or a whistle than anything else. Still sleeping, the human’s hand slid over the fabric and gently patted the patch of darkness before returning to its original position. The growling stopped, but the two pinpoints of light still stared at Sunny.

She moved around the other side of the bed a bit tentatively, and reached out a hand. Something flashed form the darkness skittering onto the man’s shoulder and snapping at her fingers.

Sunny pulled away with a curse.

Overhead the lights adjusted to a dim luminance giving Sunny a very clear view of the thing snarling at her. It was larger than it had been when it hatched, about the size of a kitten but with less fur, and debatably less cute. It’s K-9 like lips were pulled back over a range of gums. Tiny white bumps pressed against the soft pink skin hinting at teeth that were soon to come. Its eyes were manic and green, unnervingly human. Tiny ears flopped at the side of it’s head like a dog.. Six spidery legs held up it’s its back thorax, and, at this moment, the front two arms braced against the man’s shoulder.

A hand came over the side of his shoulder and gently wrapped around the creature sliding under its belly and avoiding the many legs, “What have I told you Glados” Said a somewhat groggy voice, “no growling at people It’s not polite.”

Adam sat up still holding the tiny creature, cupping it in both hands and looking it in the face. Its eyes grew bigger almost…. Caring, but when it turned back to sunny, it’s eyes narrowed and it growled.

He poked it, “Ah, none of that.”

Him sitting up had caused an eruption of the tiny creatures which began crawling onto him as he began to move.

Sunny found it all quite….. disconcerting .

Adam turned to look at her smiling, but then his smile fell….. “It’s…. That day isn’t it.”

She nodded her head.

His shoulders sagged, ‘Ah… yes…. Of course.” Still sulking a bit, he sat up, “Did you get the marines ready?”

“Yes, all present and accounted for. No one overly hungover.”

“Good.”

On one of his shoulders, two of the tiny…. Spider… lings began snapping at each other fighting over the prime position, on the shoulder right next to the neck. They liked to be close to Adam, as close as possible.

Adam frowned at the two of them, “Vicky, Hal, knock it off, and don’t make me separate you two.” The one he called, Glados had already claimed the other shoulder guarding it jealously over, Data who sat patiently on the man’s bicep waiting for an opening. Sunny watched in sort of horrified fascination as another one crawled up his neck and onto the top of his head.

He tilted his head upwards, “Really, Eeve?” She didn’t seem to care what he thought hunkering down in his hair like a predator would on grass. He sighed and walked towards the bathroom. The last creature had curled clinging to one of his sides forcing him to hold his arm away from his body, “Thank you for making my life easy, Cortana.” He muttered forced to peel them off one by one and place them in a basket by the door. As soon as he let go of them, they attempted to crawl out and come after him.

Two were already halfway down the nightstand when he darted into the bathroom and allowed the door to shut.

They did not like that one bit. Together they ran up to the door and began ramming into it or whimpering pitifully. A couple of them began prodding at their door with their spidery legs. Sunny watched in somewhat disgusted fascination. Sunny was….. Not exactly used to Adam’s children just yet….. They were….. Something short of an abomination, she was sure she would get used to them in the coming days, but….. She needed that time to adjust.

Plus, they didn’t seem to like her much.

Especially Glados….. And speak of the Devil, the little demon was looking at her with it’s narrowed eyes as if it was her fault Adam had left. It watched her for a long moment before it began crawling across the floor after her.

Sunny backed away, and the thing came faster.

Sunny danced backwards, stepping upwards onto a chair. Glados narrowed her eyes, and began scaling the chair leg.

Sunny frantically stepped onto the table and watched as the creature glowered at her. After a moment, there was a slight grumble and Glados disappeared below the chair. Sunny listened intently, heart pounding for some strange reason. A scuttling, scampering, and Glados’s head appeared over the edge of the table hissing.

Sunny yelped and leaped from the table sailing over onto the floor with a thud to go scrambling up against the window.

Glados snarled.

The rest of the spiderlings kept their attention on the door occasionally glancing back at their sibling who stood on the table bristling. And bristling was an accurate statement, Sunny knew that humans had little muscles below the hair on their body that would raise when angry or scared, a remnant of days long past, but on this creature, it was much more obvious bristling and rumbling.

The room was quiet except for the pitiful whimpering. The shower cut off, and the spiderlings began to whimper even more loudly, “I’m coming I’m coming….. Just hang in there.” Adam’s voice was somewhat muffled from behind the door, but she could hear him scrambling madly to dress himself.

Eventually the door was opened, and the spiderlings rushed forward in a mad dash.

Ever since they had been born, Adam had taken to wearing clothing with lots of pockets. Cargo pants, and a similarly designed jacket. He couldn’t wear his uniform with them around, it just wasn’t an option.

One of them scrambled into a pocket halfway up his leg. Two secured themselves in his front jacket pockets, and one even crawled towards the interior pocket of his jacket. The last one made its way up onto his shoulder rubbing it’s slightly furry head against his jaw affectionately with a sort of high grumble.

He smiled and then paused as he saw Sunny pressed up against the window, “What are you-” He paused as he saw his last fluffy monster standing on the table bristling, “Glados! What did I say.” His voice was surprisingly firm, like the commander rather than Adam. Upon hearing his voice the little creature wilted hair falling flat.

Sunny would have sworn it looked at him almost guiltily. He picket it up cupped in both hands and let it crawl onto his opposite shoulder, “Alright, let’s head out.”

The humans at least waited until the ship had taken flight to finally stand from their seats and crane their necks towards the Commander, where he sat in the captain’s chair. Before this calamity, he had taken to wearing the more informal version of his uniform, assuming they were likely to run into situations where he might need it. But now the man looked either homeless or a hipster. As they watched, one of the creatures resting on his shoulder crawled around the back of his neck.

He didn’t even flinch.

A few of the crewmembers scooted away fearfully. Some were curious enough to approach . One of the braver humans even reached out a hand, he even succeeded in patting one for a second, running his finger down its slightly furry back, which it seemed to like. Then Glados decided he was to close, and rushed down Adam’s arm to snap at the guy who jerked back in surprise.

That thing was seriously going to be a menace if it stayed on the shp much longer. At least Sunny thought so.

She had to give it to the marines that they were a little braver. One even managed to touch Glados leaning away with a giddy laugh as she tried to snap at them. The marines had outfitted themselves in the latest infrared-blocking body suits. Body heat was trapped on the inner layer and allowed to cool as it exited through the structure leaving their body heat almost nonexistent. The suit came with gloves and a helmet, none of them were willing to allow a repeat of last time.

The only one who didn’t have a suit was the Commander, much to his chagrin. There wasn’t really any place for the tiny creatures if he were to do that, and they seemed to prefer his body heat anyway. While the rest of them were safe and protected inside their suits, the commander was forced into light ACU’s, and instead of ammunition in the ammo pouches, he was carrying alien hatchlings.

The marines thought it was hilarious.

Tacti-dad.

He flipped them off from the front seat of the shuttle as they descended towards the distant trees. A low lying mist, one that always seemed to cover the strange planet, made the approaching forest look eerie despite the intense light of the nearby main-sequence star.

They dropped through an opening in the trees maybe two or three kicks from the “nest” and landed on a small swampy, hill. They waited for the weight of the shuttle to settle against the wet earth before debarking. Two marines were left behind to guard the shuttle while the rest accompanied the Commander into a loose arrow formation through the bog.

As they stepped out into the moist air, one of the spiderlings poked its head from a pocket and began sniffing at the air. Sunny fell to the forward right position of the group. She had since become sufficient in human weaponry since joining the crew, and had adapted to moving in human formations.

Their path through the trees was easier since their last visit, the water level had gone down leaving more dry ground for them to walk on. Commander Vir ducked under a branch. He was at the middle back of the group this time unable to carry a larger weapon than a pistol for fear of somehow injuring or crushing the spiderlings. Not to mention that he didn’t exactly have many places to secret magazines with them appropriating the mag-pouches.

He stepped over a puddle feeling as two more of the little creatures poked their heads out of his pocket. They sniffed at the air with wide green eyes. Vir couldn’t help himself and did the same, he had found that, while his sense of smell had somewhat dulled after the creatures hatched, it hadn’t quite gone away. What he smelled was mostly stagnant water, but underneath all that…… it was strange…. Maybe the smell of wet fur or…. Or animal musk. He couldn’t have said.

A soft ticking from their GPS let them know they were getting close. A few of the marines at the head of the column stopped allowing the Commander to move forward and take his position. He holstered his weapon relying on the marines to protect him if something went wrong. He didn’t foresee that happening, but it paid to be paranoid.

Sunny recognized the clearing ahead as if came into view. The island was larger than before considering the drop in water levels, but the same twisted trees were still there.

All six of the tiny spiderlings had their noses to the air now chirping and meowing.

Commander Vir raised a hand to halt the marines and then continued forward, cautiously alone under the canopy of trees

. His boots thudded softy against the ground. The only sound was the quiet chirping of the spiderlings calling upwards into the threes. They waited there for what seemed like half an hour nervously glancing into the darkness above.

“Maybe they moved.” One of the marines whispered form the darkness.

The Commander raised a hand and sniffed at the air around him “No…. they’re here.” The marines stared at him in confusion, but said nothing. Watching as the man inched forward onto the very apex of the island.

Distant rumblings broke through the trees.

The man took a step back, and the marines hunkered down in the water. The rumbling turned into a sharp skittering and then a clattering, and commander Vir was forced to leap back as a large shape came dropping out of the darkness. The spiderlings squealed in shock,and Commander Vir nearly fell over backwards as the Queen of the adaptids jutted here horrific head forward from the darkness. Her skinless muzzle was wet with mist, and the two lines of sharp teeth ran up the side of her head perpetually exposed. They could see what appeared to be sinew stretching and fibrous contractions as she opened her mouth.

Commander Vir stood steady though his feet were turned back towards the marines, “You remember me…. Don’t you?” his voice echoed through the trees, but it took the creature a bit longer to decode the translation into its primitive language.

She sniffed at him, large noseless pit at the front of her muzzle flexing and contracting with the air movement. As soon as she did, her hostility faded away. She lifted her head stepping back on the moss with her spidery legs circling the human with a head that was cocked curiously to the side.

“I did as you requested…. The offspring are safe.”

With one hand out as if to block her from making any wrong moves, the man reached into his pocket cupping one of the tiny creatures in the palm of his hand. The queen skittered on her many legs back and forth for a moment before lowering her head towards his hand. The spiderling lifted it’s tiny head, now far more pleasant when compared to its mother.

Glados chirped at the horrifying figure.

The queen let off a soft bellow nudging the hatchling with the side of her muzzle. This exchange done, the spiderling crawled from the Commander’s hands and up onto the face of the queen hunkering down against her scaled body. More chirping followed, and one by one the tiny creatures crawled form pouches in his clothing.

He stood very still watching them go.

All around, the forest shifted, and other adaptids began to appear.crawling down the trunks of trees and across massive branches and jutting roots. The host gender kept higher than their counterparts, but even from this distance the Commander though he could spot bundles of tiny bodies crawling across their skin. He turned back to the queen, watching as the strange hybrids nuzzled against their, more important, DNA donors. He tried to ignore the slight pit in his stomach.

“I fulfilled my end of the bargain.” He began, “Will you fulfill your end?”

She lifted her head to look at him, eyes a milky white in color.

“Traits….. Important…..we….. Trade….. adaptation …. Hatchlings…. Trade ... friends …. Communication.”

Commander Vir paused, “Wait…. Are you saying that you did what you did to give your species language?”

“Must…. Adapt.”

He glanced towards the small figures hunkered at her sides…. It made sense. He looked up, “Consider this proof of our friendship than. The Adaptids will formally be known as allies of the galactic alliance and are worthy of our aid in whatever circumstances may permit.”

There was a soft rattling around the clearing as the adaptids thundered their legs against the trees, it seemed like a good sign.

Commander Vir nodded his head low, glanced at the spiderlings one last time. His expression was…. Surprisingly sad though even he wasn’t entirely sure why. He hadn’t exactly gone into this wanting them, he didn’t, in fact, feel like they were his at all. DNA tests had proven they only incorporated about 20% of his DNA, but….. There was just…. something …. Missing?

He turned his back trying very hard not to feel anything, and trudged over the wet ground towards the waiting marines. He was just nearing the edge of the water when he heard a soft “Skreeeeee.” behind him. He turned and had to stop as he nearly stepped on Glados who was crawling furiously after him seeming quite peeved that she was being left behind.

He sighed in frustration and knelt on the ground picking her up and pushing her back towards her mother, “You have to go, you’ll be safe here. This is where you belong.”

She grumbled, turned around and crawled into his sleeve definitely lodging herself just past the bend of his elbow where he couldn't reach her. Two more chirps followed, and he looked up to find Cortana and Hal scuttling across the wet earth towards him.

He sighed in frustration, picked them up and walked them back towards the queen.

It was strange, the skinless creatures seemed almost amused though her milky white eyes were hard to read.

He reached out hesitantly setting them down on one of her legs, “Stay.” He ordered.

The Commander backed away then, sighing in frustration when the three spiderlings doggedly chased after him.

This time though, the queen followed, and before he knew it, she was standing over him and they were muzzle to nose, “Keep…. Learn….. Language.”

Commander Vir paused, “But I…. Look, not to be rude but I…. I have responsibilities, The GA has tasked me with protecting the ENTIRE galaxy. I never agreed to parenthood, and it will be difficult enough keeping my job together much less taking care of them. I… I mean don’t get me wrong, I am fond of them, but I was under the impression that you would take them when…..” The adaptid trust her head forward at him, and he had to take a step back.

“Language.” She demanded.

He raised his hands, “Now hold on, I get where you're coming from, but let's not forget that you didn’t exactly give me forewarning before all this happened, and I…..” She didn’t wait for him to finish, and before he had even gotten the ball rolling she had scrambled up the nearest tree and into the darkness leaving him holding three chirping spiderlings.

He sighed in frustration doing his best to ignore the part of him that was relieved and the other part that was kind of hurt, “See you, Vicky, Data, Eeve.”

His shoulders slumped, and in defeat he allowed them to crawl back into place. Cortana yawned.

The marines snickered as he walked up, “Custody battle going poorly, Commander.”

The man grunted, “Arguing with her is like beating my head against a brick wall.”

“To be fair.” One of the marines began, “It's pretty much impossible to argue with something that can barely speak.”

“You sure can pick them, Commander.” Sunny added.

He gave her a rather meaningful look before motioning for his arines to pack up and head out. Inside the Commander was beginning to wonder how he was going to make this work… how would his mother react when he had to bring them home…. How would his brothers react.

He glanced down spotting a tiny body curled up, fast asleep against his chest. With the way it was curled up, it looked more like a sleeping puppy than anything. It was the legs that threw it off.

How was he going to handle this?”

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docholligay · 5 years ago

Note

Hiding How Sick/Hurt I Am From The Group, Mina

“Everybody get your shit together!” Mina yelled and rolled her eyes. “For like, five seconds!”

The group looked at her, some to argue, some to whimper, but as Mina stood there, steadying herself on a large ochre rock, looking at all of them with that keen eye that half her and half Venus, peeking like a devil through the window, they all stood silent.

“Listen, I know this is new to all of us,” she looked around at the strange, scarred earth they found themselves upon, “really new. But the work’s the same, guys,--”

“I’m not a guy!” Rei piped up “I mean, none of us are guys! Why are we letting men dominate group--”

MIna put her hand to her temple and closed her eyes, sitting down on a nearby rock. “Oh for fuck’s sake, you know what, Mars, when YOU’RE leader, you can call everyone whatever the fuck you want.”

Rei crossed her arms. “It’s not about that, it about the way that men are considered the baseline for--”

“Mars,” Michiru tipped her head, “Perhaps this is not quite the time that one might choose to debate the merits of colloquial speech, and the gender, class, whatever sort of thing you might imagine, implications of such. Being as we are in an interdimensional hellhole and all.”

Rei opened her mouth, and then shut it as Usagi latched onto her arm, and simply allowed herself to glower out a silent argument.

“Thank you.” Mina said, shaking her head. “Anyway, this is the same shit we’ve always done,” she indicated a hand toward Rei, “LADIES. All we have to do is use all the stuff I’ve taught you before. We’ll make a move on the castle, and have it captured by dawn.”

Mina slowly rose to her feet, her hand still on the rock. “Jupiter. You and Moon are going in through the front. I essentially expect you to be captured. You’re a distraction. I want you to punch, stab, and electrocute some dudes.”

“All right!” Mako’s fist pumped the air.

Rei sputtered. “You can’t let her get captured, she’s the princess!”

“Yeah,” Mina chuckled, “what sort of idiot would send their princess to the front line? No one I know. Good thing they have no clue which one of us is the princess.” she jutted her chin at Hotaru. “Surprise, you’re the princess today.”

“Goddamnit,” the tiny teenager scowled, “Why me again?”

“Because,” Mina walked slowly over to her, grinning and casually placing a hand on her shoulder, “You look tiny and defenseless. Which is why,” she turned around quickly, and dramatically tossed herself against Haruka, “My biggest strongest solider is going with her. You two are going to run through the forest,” She pushed herself out of Haruka’s arm, “protecting the princess. Move fast, remember there are venomous fucking lizards in this place, Uranus.”

Haruka thought for a moment. “Will it kill me?”

MIna sighed. “For me to find that out, I’d have to let it bite you. Please don’t. At least until later when there’s a way out of this place.”

“And me?”

Rei arched an eyebrow, looking at Mina. She saw a wave on the edge of her vision, something that almost called to mind the Sight, like it was trying to tell her something, but she was too far away, and the words got garbled on the wind.

“You,” Mina nodded, “Are going to try from the cave below, by the sea. I don’t think they guard it well, they expect the sea to be a fucking guard. Tide is out all the time, dumbasses.”

Rei nodded, but kept staring at her. “So I’m going with Neptune.”

MIna turned away from her. “ What did I say about tide? No, you’re going with Pluto. You don’t need Neptune. Neptune and I are sneaking in through the back. And don’t,” her voice was quiet, but serious, “Argue with me, Mars. Not even a little bit.”

“Fine.” Rei crossed her arms, but stood waiting, quietly, for once.

MIna looked off to the castle, a storm gathering over the top of it. If these weren’t happening in front of her, she would have called this an overblown fantasy anime, but her life did so often seem like that, she supposed. Maybe it was. Maybe it was easier to think of everything that was happening to her as necessary character arc. Whose growth would she be ensuring, by her...well, she stopped the thought there, at least for now.

“And!” The wind kicked up, and whirled her hair around her, “I put you in pairs, so the mission will be completed. If one of you falls, the other one moves on. Got it? I am deadass here, people. We have to get out of this. Even if it means one of us is lost. There’s more at stake here than any one of us.”

The girls who understood nodded, and affirmed their assent, and the ones who did not stood silently, but knew they follow the leader. They always had, except for maybe Usagi. And she was due to get captured in the first few minutes. Mina was smart. She had done that for a reason. She would never say to leave someone behind, unless she had a reason.

The girls began to dissipate, breaking off in their small groups, Rei and Pluto already jumping down the small cliffsides nimbly on their way to the save by the sea. It was only Haruka who stood back a moment, looking out at the castle next to Mina.

Why don’t you want me to go with you?” There was a note of hurt in it, as if she had failed, and was being put into time out for something she didn’t understand. “Why do I have to stay in the woods?”

“Bud, you know I love you. You’re fast, and you can keep ahead of them, and honestly,” she rubbed at Haruka’s shoulder, “I can’t trust you to leave her behind, if she falls. Or the other way around.”

Haruka scrunched her face in protest, stopped a moment, and sighed. “Yeah.”

Mina tossed back her hair and smiled brightly. “I’ll bring her back, Uranus. You just gotta promise me you’ll stay out of trouble in the woods, and keep Hotaru out of trouble. They’re swampy, and dangerous. And, as I said, venomous fucking lizards.”

Haruka nodded, and walked over to Hotaru. “Princess?”

Hotaru rolled her eyes. “Okay, subject, let’s make it happen.”

Michiru and Mina stood side by side, watching, until Haruka and Hotaru disappeared over a hill. MIna let go, just for a moment, as they slipped out of sight, Michiru nimbly grabbing her behind the arms and helping her to the ground. Mina was shaking, and turned on her side to throw up a small pile of green and rust brown onto the ground.

“Yes, I rather thought that might be the case.” MIchiru was knelt beside her.

She did not look at Mina with pity, or fear, but a simple recognition of the issue at hand.It was in this moment Mina realized that although she could honestly be said to dislike Michiru, on a daily basis, they were times she quite loved her, and always respected her.

She wiped at her mouth with her glove. “You must have Seen it.”

“Someone is certainly far more impressed with their acting skills than is warranted.” Michiru looked at her plainly. “You sent Haruka far enough away she will not see it if you should die in the attempt. I have never seen you use so much support for anything in my life. You fell into Haruka’s arms, and played the entire thing off. You front-loaded the idea that we are meant to be left behind in the event of our death, that the group would not blame me for doing so. How could they, when you were so zealous about the issue?

She cleared her throat. “You paired with me, although you do not care for me, because you imagine I will bear your passing the best.” Michiru smiled. “Venomous fucking lizard, was it?”

Mina chuckled. “I should have used you more. As a leader. You’re clever.” She sighed. “It’s eating me alive, I can feel it. I don’t know how far I can go. I don’t think Usagi can help it. I--there was so much more I wanted to do, but--I’m going to fight like the devil, and see how quick he is to come and take me. I’ll burn the whole castle down with my last. Fucking. Breath.”

She felt her body twist inside, even as she said it, and heard the tick-tick-tick of the clock in her head as it wound toward the long, great midnight.

Mina leaned back on her elbows. “Lived my whole life on the edge and one wrong step in a miserable swamp at the end of the universe is gonna be what does it. ”

“Time and chance happen to us all.” Michiru rose to her feet, and extended a hand,. “Commander Venus. To arms.”

MIna took her hand and struggled to her feet. “I hope I go brave.”

“The story I tell of your heroism, and your death, will make a legend of you. I think you’ll find I can be quite persuasive when the mood strikes me.” She brushed a bit of dirt off Mina’s back, “For Haruka’s sake, of course, if we find something that might save you, I’d prefer that entirely..”

Mina went to unsheath her sword, and decided she would save her strength for when it had to be raised for the last time.

She grinned.

“Let’s go, squidward.”

#april showers writing #pouncequick

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alice-in-gingerland · 4 years ago

Text

Axel/Roxas - Beauty and the Beast

So, I’ve been out of the writing game for roughly ten years, since university killed my spirit. But lately I’ve had this idea playing around in my head and wanted to see if I could still write. So I am slowly writing my Akuroku retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Posting the first chapter draft of chapter one here and hope people can give some feedback and maybe some ideas. Let’s see what happens!

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Namine sighed heavily, torn between slamming her face into her palms or shouting at the ragtag team in front of her.

‘You literally could have just taken a horse each!’

Sora raised his eyebrows in confusion, a cookie still raised partially to his lips.

‘But we only had one rope between the three of us.’

‘Plus, dwarves are too short to ride a full sized horse alone,’ added Riku, gesturing to a nodding Kairi.

‘You didn’t even need a rope once Kairi’s character subdued them,’ Namine exclaimed.

Kairi giggled at her sister’s obvious exasperation but chose not to let it go just yet, ‘but you can’t control a horse like that, it’s not realistic.’

The whole group were beginning to laugh at the absurdness of the situation, even Riku was trembling slightly, trying to hold back his amusement at the normally calm dungeon master who was turning vaguely pink with frustration.

‘Why do you guys always have to make big events out of tiny situations, we’ll never get to the main parts of the quest if you keep doing this.’ She slammed the book in front of her closed with an air of finality, causing Sora to pout.

‘Ah Nams, you never let us mess around, that’s half the fun of DnD!’

Riku tilted back in his chair to check the clock on the kitchen wall, ‘to be fair, it’s getting pretty late. We should probably finish up and head home.’

‘Let's make camp for the night, I’ll tie up the horses. We’re only a few kilometres from the town so will be good to rest up in case there’s a fight,’ said Sora, his eyes darting over the colourful map that covered the majority of the dining room table they sat at.

Namine rubbed her forehead tiredly before beginning to carefully pack away her books and pens.

Sora was decidedly less careful, using his forearm to sweep his dice, notebook and other odds and ends into a waiting cardboard box, causing Riku to wince.

‘Before we head home, what’s the plan for Halloween this weekend,’ Kairi queried. She stretched out her back to loosen her muscles after a few hours being confined to the table, her russet hair almost tickling the small of her back. Namine tapped one of her colouring pens against her dusky pink lips, debating how she would like to spend one of her favourite holidays of the year.

Riku snorted, still leaning back dangerously in his chair and obviously in no hurry to assist with the clean up. ‘Aren’t we getting a bit too old to be trick or treating?’

Sora stuck his tongue out at the older boy, following up with a nudge to his chair. Riku’s azure eyes widened in panic as he struggled to stop from toppling backwards; he managed to right himself and gave Sora a victorious smirk.

‘Just because you turn fifteen soon doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stop enjoying ourselves,’ retorted Kairi, swiftly linking her arm through Sora’s.

The young brunette posed thoughtfully as he lent into his best friends supporting frame.

‘He does have a point though, maybe we could do something a bit more, I dunno, exciting this year?’

Namine’s brow dipped in concern, knowing from experience what Sora meant by exciting. Kairi nudged Sora with her hip.

‘By exciting, I think you mean dangerous…’

The boy glanced to his right, a mock hurt expression crossing his face, ‘ well it doesn’t have to be anything bad, just maybe something scary. You know, to frighten Mr All Grown Up.’

Namine clapped her hands together in excitement, startling the three other teens who turned to her in puzzlement. The young girl’s features were alight with excitement, her usual cornflower blue eyes darkened with intent.

‘I think we should go to the old Wildwood House.’

Sora and Kairi almost bounced in excitement. Sneaking into the old Wildwood House had been a tradition for the teenage population in their town for at least the past two decades. The old manor house had been empty for over one hundred years, allowing multiple rumours to circulate regarding why no one had bought it; tales varying from gruesome murders to alien abduction. It didn’t help that the house sat imposingly upon the tallest hill in the area, surrounded by a dense pine wood that was often enveloped in thick mist due to the multiple hot springs the territory was known for.

Namine beamed at her sister and Sora’s reactions as she began to twirl her ash blonde hair between her finger tips; her usual habit when dreaming up artistic ideas.

‘I’ve wanted to go for a while, apparently the architecture is untouched and even the original furniture and furnishings are unblemished - a paused moment in time. I really want to take some photos and maybe make a few quick sketches, but it’s way too creepy to go alone.’

The petite girl turned her pleading gaze upon Riku, who swiftly noticed all three of his friends were staring at him, silently pleading for his agreement.

‘Well if you three pansies think you’re up for it, why not,’ he shrugged, hooked his arms behind his head nonchalantly.

Sora grabbed Kairi’s hand, which she noticed was trembling slightly.

‘Oh my god Kairi, I can’t wait! Did you hear that the whole family was murdered up there by a wild axeman, and the ghosts still haunt the woods because they are buried in the floorboard.’

Kairi scoffed and argued, ‘don’t be stupid, they would have found the bodies. Everyone knows they made some kind of deal with the fairies for an immortal life and were transported to the faerie plain, they only return once a year to steal souls for the fairies.’

‘I heard that the man who lived there sold his soul to a fire demon for eternal beauty and power,’ retorted Namine. Riku let out a snicker and flicked a stray dice at the blonde. ‘Honestly, that’s the plot from Howl’s Moving Castle, you muppet.’

The youngest girl blushed and the four teenagers continued to bicker until they were interrupted by heavy footfalls and genial masculine voice.

‘Nah, the owner made a wish with a genie to be immortal, but it didn’t pan out quite the way he planned.’

Two young men appeared at the bottom of the stairs, one with a mischievous grin and pushed back dirty blonde hair, the other with an almost cherubic face; almost identical to Sora except obviously older with golden blonde styled locks, instead of a brown unkempt birdnest the younger brother liked to sport.

Roxas pondered for a moment, nudging his friend out of the way so he could grab a crisp from the bowl on the table, ‘that’s not it either, it was a djinn. He was so set on looking for power that he was possessed by a travelling djinn.’ He popped the crisp into his mouth and almost immediately winced, ‘what is wrong with you guys, prawn cocktail, really!’ Roxas grimaced and wiped his fingers on his little brother’s shirt.

Sora visibly bristled, shoving his brother away from the group.

‘What are you two doing down here, go away!’

‘Snacks of course,’ Hayner countered, grabbing a handful of prawn cocktail crisps and winking in Namine’s direction. Riku narrowed his eyes and tugged the younger girl to his side; he didn’t mind Roxas, but his flirtatious friend could often be a little too forward with Kairi and Namine. The girls never seemed to mind, but Riku knew that Hayner was less than innocent and not very faithful at that. He had overheard arguments between the two older boys regarding Hayner’s treatment of women for at least two years. He’d never mention it to Sora but he had accidentally walked in on the pair of them locked in an extremely heated embrace once. The memory of their tongues and roaming hands made him nauseous and caused a shudder to ripple through his body. Hayner obviously didn’t care whose pants he was getting into as long as he was getting satisfaction from them.

Deciding he’d annoyed his brother and company enough, Roxas gestured for his friend to follow him into the adjoining kitchen.

‘Come on, let the kids play.’

Hayner gave a brief wave and grin before accompanying Roxas into the kitchen and closing the door behind them.

‘Ah, that takes me back.’

Roxas raised an eyebrow in question whilst grabbing two cans of fizzy from the fridge, passing one to the other boy. Hayner gratefully accepted the can, popping it open with a satisfying hiss and taking a large gulp before answering, ‘you know, when you, me, Pence and Ollette used to come round here and play a bit of dungeons and dragons.’

Roxas rested his hip against the sideboard, his gaze turning pensive for a moment.

‘Yeah, back before it was cool,’ he laughed, ‘also before we discovered the lure of alcohol.’

Hayner slid forward and lightly caressed Roxas’s forearm, his voice taking on a heated tone ‘before we discovered other things as well.’

Roxas’s eyes flashed with annoyance and he gently but firmly brushed away the offending appendage. ‘Aren’t you seeing that guy Seifer.’

He moved away from his promiscuous friend, putting a bit of distance between them before taking a sip of his drink. Fooling around with Hayner has always been fun, but he worried it was a distraction from him finding a real and meaningful relationship; something Roxas was starting to desire more than simply sexual gratification. He wanted dedication and passion, and was perfectly aware Hayner was not capable of fulfilling those needs. He also wasn’t keen on accidentally becoming ‘the other man’ when his friend inevitably forgot he was in a monogamous relationship.

‘I was only teasing,’ Hayner said, not looking as chagrined as Roxas believed he should be feeling.

“Anyway, me and Seifer aren’t exactly exclusive,’ he continued, picking at the side of his can, ‘pretty sure he’s crashing with Fuu and there’s no way those two are platonic.’

Sensing his friend's discomfort Roxas replied, ‘you don’t know that, you know better than I do that he fights with his Dad on the regular. He probably just needed a safe place to stay and him and Fuu have been mates since primary school.’

A small smile flit across Hayner’s face as he glanced up.

“You’re probably right, always are.’

Roxas gave the taller boy a shove and the two chuckled quietly.

Sounds of giggling and shuffling trickled under the kitchen door as the pair relaxed into an amicable silence.

“Do you remember when we went up to the Wildwood House,” Roxas murmured.

Hayner shifted, leaning back on his tanned arms, ‘yeah, it was creepy man, but only because it was old and dark and we were thirteen.’

Roxas frowned, “what about the figure I saw, and that burning fire?’

Hayner snorted and replied, ‘dude, you freaked out at a curtain, and some group who went up before us must have lit a candle to scare the next visitors. Just don’t say anything to the kids; Sora will get all hyped up then they’ll all be disappointed when it’s just an empty old house.’

Yanking open a cupboard door, Hayner extracted a bag of bacon rasher crisps and a packet of party ring biscuits and gathered them under his arm.

“Come on mate, got your fav biscuits, let’s go destroy strangers on Rocket League.’

The muscular blonde elbowed open the door and strode away, leaving Roxas to his vague memories of a slim cloaked figure reaching out to him with a palm of smokeless flames.

#akuroku #axel #roxas #kingdom hearts #beauty and the beast #teen #hayner #namine and kairi are sisters #djinn #axel and roxas #fanfiction

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saedii-gilwraeth-simp · 5 years ago

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I Knew I Loved You ~ Chapter 8

So... I misnumbered my chapters and so I thought I had done more than I actually did when really I just fucked up... *shrug*

Chapter 8: Arsinoe

~Camden, Australia~

Jules was in freakout mode by mid-October. Despite still having another month before her wedding, she had insisted that Arsinoe come home to help her. Which led to Arsinoe sitting on Jules and Emilia’s couch as the two rapidly debated what type of card they wanted for the table placements. Arsinoe couldn’t help but roll her eyes when she looked at the clock on the wall, only to see that it was lunch time and that the two had been debating for a full hour. She pulled out her phone and checked through Instagram.

She mindlessly looked through until she saw a photo of Jules and Emilia’s wedding invitation posted by Michael Percy. She liked the photo and spoke to Jules.

“So, Michael Percy is coming to your wedding?” Jules thought for a second before frowning.

“I thought you two were friends?” Arsinoe shrugged.

“I’m friends with Tommy. Michael and I had a breakup so bad that we went down in our yearbook as the worst fight of the year. I’m just curious as to why you invited him?” Jules cringed, baring her teeth slightly.

“Emilia invited him. I’m still friends with him. I’m sorry. Will it be awkward?” Jules explained. Arsinoe took a breath and reminded herself not to be so selfish.

“I’m pretty sure he came out a few years back and I have my own man, so no, it should be fine,” she paused and checked the time again, “I’m going to get food. You want anything?” Both shook their heads and Arsinoe grabbed the keys to the truck she had given Jules when she moved away. Arsinoe clicked her tongue at the dog that had been sitting at her feet. Braddock bounded to his feet and to the door, excited to go out with her again. She pets his head and opens the door.

“Oh, and Arsinoe?” Jules calls after her. “When you get back, I want to call this soulmate of yours so I can grill the shit out of him,” Arsinoe laughs and nods at her best friend.

The cemetery was quiet at this time of a Monday afternoon. Even after so long, the little old lady who ran the florist on the grounds recognised her and nearly cried when Arsinoe pulled the money she owed out of her pocket. Mrs. Patrick had seen her there a lot as a teenager without a job and drowned in grief and it was time to pay her back.

She sat down at the grass in front of the two headstones. Arsinoe had organised it so that there was a plot between them so that eventually she could join them and she sat there now, laying the flowers on her sister’s grave. Forget-me-nots for Mirabella and roses for Katharine. She took a moment to trace the words on the headstones. They were not the same as each other, as her sisters had been different.

Mirabella’s read a quote from one of her favourite books and Kat’s read a quote from a poem. Arsinoe smiled at them and began speaking. She could never forget how they sounded in her head which made their conversation easier, if you could call it that.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I got a new tattoo. I miss you both, more than you could even fathom. Jules and Em are getting married which is wild. I know you guys probably know all of this because you see all now but sometimes I like to pretend I’m your only source of gossip. Maybe that’s stupid, but it works.”

Only silence responded. Arsinoe smiled softly.

“You can’t tell anyone but I got another job. A local art gallery wants my paintings to display,” she squealed softly, trying not to disturb anyone else who might be around. “I haven’t told anyone that yet but I was so excited and I wanted you guys to be the first to know. I’m moving up in art and life and it’s exciting,” her smile droops a little, “I just wish you both were here to see it all... It’s never gonna get easier to live without you guys, is it?”

Silence again. She sighed and stood, touching her fingers to the headstones one last time.

“There is one more person I have to visit. Until I see you again, ladies,” she took the final bouquet she had bought and climbed the hill of the cemetery until she saw a small stone headstone.

“Hi, Joseph,” she lays the flowers down, crouching on the grass. “How have you been? Good I guess. You and the girls are probably all up there happy. At least, that’s what I think. Jules is getting married. And I know you two didn’t end things great but I just thought you should know. Emilia’s really great for Jules too. I know you asked me to look after her but… I don’t think she needs me as much as she used to. But just know that I’ve got her back, always,” on this headstone, she kisses her hand and presses it to the stone. “Bye, Joseph.”

When she leaves the cemetery, she tries to leave the sadness too. Unfortunately, she has always been particularly bad at that.

It was tradition for Emilia and Arsinoe to have one round in a boxing ring together every time Arsinoe came back home. This time was no different except that they were pulling their punches. Bruises don’t look good with fancy dresses, after all. Emilia was quick and strong but Arsinoe was fast and smart. They had punched it out on 6 occasions and it was a tie every time. As it was this time.

The two were sitting silently against the ropes in the empty boxing gym when Emilia spoke.

“I’m quitting the army,” Arsinoe turned to look at her and she returned the look. “I haven’t told Jules yet and I don’t want you to but… ever since I got back home I keep thinking how much I don’t want to leave her again.”

“I get it. By the time I got back home I couldn’t go again either. And if you’re not sure about going back then it’s not worth it. Can I ask if getting married has something to do with it?” Arsinoe's voice was gentle and serious.

“Jules and I were thinking of starting a family. Adopting, y’know? I can’t leave a kid to go do what I do. I don’t need any more blood on my hands.” Arsinoe smiled.

“That’s really great Em. What will you do once you’re out?” Emilia shrugged.

“Probably personal security, maybe I’ll become a personal trainer. Or I’ll just quit work and be a stay-at-home mother,” Arsinoe laughed near hysterically.

“If there is one thing I don’t think you could do it’s be a stay-at-home anything. But I’m proud of you,” she nudged Emilia’s shoulder with her own.

“What’s it like? Getting out?” Arsinoe shrugged.

“It depends what you see when you’re out there and what you internalise. I’m fine sleeping but jolt out of bed at 5 am on the dot even if I don’t set an alarm. Sometimes I pull a fork from my kitchen drawer and it sounds exactly like the grenade right before it blew us all up. It takes time. But it gets better and besides, you’ll have Braddock and he’s great in civilian crowds,” Emilia smiled and stood, pulling Arsinoe to her feet and hugging her. Arsinoe coughed in surprise.

“Thank you,” Emilia whispers.

“For telling you what it’s like to be out of the army?” Arsinoe says, confusion evident.

“For being Jules’ person. There have been times when I couldn’t for the life of me understand why Jules and you were so close but I’m glad that she has you in her life. So thank you for looking after her,” Arsinoe pats Emilia’s shoulder.

“Thanks, but I think she looked after me more than I looked after her.”

#three dark crowns #one dark throne #two dark reigns #five dark fates #queen arsinoe #billy chatworth #billy x arsinoe #jules milone #emilia vatros #queen mirabella #queen katharine #joseph sandrin #kendare blake #ikily

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eternaljouska · 5 years ago

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The Perks of Past Midnight - Xu Minghao

Pairing: Xu Minghao x Reader

Genre: Abstract-ish Fluff (I don’t even know anymore)

Word Count: 2067

Warning: None (confusion?/)

Note: I know, I’m sorry. I need to write something that makes a little more sense 🤧 I know reading something like this can be exhausting and painful lmao, but enjoy hwhw (Happy Late Birthday Eissa~)

Past midnight, when people put extra effort to extend their waking hours despite their lethargic minds, you lie on your side, spending the trickling seconds to create a temporary pool on the sheet of your pillow—after all, how else should you keep the ever-changing flowers on its land bloom?

There are some other perks of lying on your side wide awake. The moon hanging from the window in front of you, it is the lamp lost on the street, illuminating your wet, gloomy eyes. That moon is the embodiment of hope, the mere arid debris of another greater force in the universe, ultimately constant, but constantly changing.

The moon casts a shadow over your face, a blanket of grainy pixels that covers the line of dried streams on your cheeks. You are grateful, for the moon has been properly trained to speak in whispers and keep all secrets away even from the dead winds. The moon travels on its journey alone, taking everything in and talking in its head, telling stories to no one in particular. But one time, past midnight, in the middle of its journey, the moon saw you lying on your side and timidly greeted you with its soft voice. And how exceptional past midnight is, for not only bloom does your flowers, but also the friendship between both you lonely creatures.

Past midnight, when people put extra effort to extend their waking hours despite their lethargic minds, Minghao sits on his armchair, juggling the finite vocabularies he has to paint the plain of his ceiling—after all, how else would he entertain himself in the surge of greys that is the world around him?

There are some other perks of sitting on his armchair wide awake. The stars swimming beyond the window in front of him, they are fireflies filling the spaces in his brain, connecting his words and nonsensical thoughts. Those stars, they are the embodiment of wonder, the products of turbulence in the mind of the sky, glaringly visible, but visibly deceased.

The stars voice out honesty, a mixture of simple words and extravagant wisdom of a child. He is grateful, for the stars have been educated for clever banters and heated discussions. They all are standing on different points with different views, crowding the sky with their different opinions. But one time, past midnight, in the middle of their jolly debate, one star saw him sitting on his armchair and noisily sent the wind to catch his musings. And how exceptional past midnight is, for not only entertainment does Minghao gets, but also comrades in the pursuit of knowledge.

They are loud, the stars, so loud that the phantom of their voices accompany Minghao throughout the hours when the wind is the slave to the clouds instead of the stars. During the day, Minghao was going to paint his ceiling black and blue and yellow, carving the memory of the night and his talkative friends out onto his room.

On his way to the art store, he was distracted. On his last meeting with the stars, they were whispering among themselves about something growing paler and paler, smaller and smaller, every night. He was so distracted he purchased scarlet red instead of sky blue. Of course, it was only later when he arrived in his plain and grey room did he took notice of that.

Oh, does he become very disturbed when his fellow scholars announce the topic of the night. He is very disturbed about having to paint with a scarlet. The stars suggest he replace his current vision with the image of the drowning sun, but that would cost him his friends—the stars—he replies. And the stars decidedly agree that the sky without their presence is just really unflattering. The stars then suggest he discard the scarlet paint and portrayed only the pitch midnight sky with dots of yellow lights on his ceiling, but that would surely hurt the scarlet paint’s feeling if it were to have one at all, he replies. The stars decidedly agree that all things exist or have existed, alive or demised, have a heart that doesn’t have to beat to feel. The stars then suggest he write his thoughts on his wall with the scarlet paint, like a proposal of the infamous love, but that would rather look like anger and protest than earnestly curated words, he replies. And a few blinks of the stars afterward, Minghao adds, besides, he never does quite apprehend the infamous concept of love the stars were talking about. Then at once, the stars speak louder than ever, ignoring Minghao in their discussion within themselves. Peeved by the lack of attention his tiny friends give him, Minghao closes his window tightly and buries his thought with other things that are equally nonsensical to help him fall asleep.

The moon was quiet last night, so quiet that your empathetic heart embraces its spirit to let it be one with your own soul. During the day, you are walking to the hill, making acquaintances with the wind. You want to know what the other sky beings were talking about lately.

The clouds put the wind to work, so there is not a lot of time available for conversation. On your last meeting with the moon, it was mumbling its early farewell, saying that the sky was full of chatters that night, making the moon felt slightly woozy as a result. The clouds put the wind to work, so there is not a lot of time available for conversation. Your session with the wind ends with the promise that it will find out what was troubling the solemn midnight sky.

The moon retires early tonight, too, so you close your curtain and lie on your side, as you usually do. Several rounds of counting the petal to the roses on your sheet, you see something dances in between your curtain. It is the wind, coming with chills of its discovery.

The wind tells you the story of an intelligent young man, who has been friends with the stars as long as you have the moon. The wind recalls the time when the stars sent a request to hear the young man’s thoughts through its assistance. The moment it saw him sitting in his armchairs, the wind was certain that the stars would value him, for you see, the stars are the embodiment of wonder and they voice out honesty. And right when the wind caught sight of the young man, there was nothing in his eyes that was not wondrous or honest. But, the wind stresses, rumor has it the young man knows not of the infamous concept of love!

So that was what the chattering all about. The stars have been busy discussing between themselves to come out with something that will help the young man understand the infamous concept of love. The wind then leaves you with the fact that the moon finally spoke to the stars yesterday, which surprised all the stars in the midnight sky. That insight the wind gave you, however, only makes you nervous about your next meeting with the moon.

Past midnight, when people put extra effort to extend their waking hours despite their lethargic minds, you lie on your side, whispering your ideas of love towards the pale, lonely moon.

The next night, Minghao lies on his side, hiding his thoughts from the strangely quiet stars. His window is closed, so perhaps that is why the sky seems silent. Minghao was counting in his head in the method of blinking stars when a knock is heard on that said window. He ignores it, for he thinks that it is only the wind, but the knock comes again. And again. And again. Minghao walks to his window with the expression of a petulant child, opening the square glass with more force than necessary. But to his surprise, it is not the wind that he finds beyond his window, it is the moon.

Minghao realizes that the midnight sky is truly speechless for once, and he suddenly acknowledges that he misses his loud friends. The moon speaks in whispers, and it almost lulls him to sleep if not for the fact that it is talking about the infamous concept of love. No, it is not talking about that. The moon is talking about the various concepts of love. The moon is talking about a young woman. A young woman who cries for her flowers, a young woman who talks in whispers also, a young woman who accompanies the moon’s stops from its lonely journey.

Minghao stays up until the sun comes up. And during the day, he is going to go to the hill, to make acquaintances with the wind. He wants to know about the young woman with the expanse knowledge of the infamous love.

The clouds put the wind to work, so there is not a lot of time available for conversation. The wind says only one thing: that young woman asked about him only yesterday. Minghao finds his heart jumps at the revelation, and his lips smile wider than the night of his encounter with the stars.

On the way down from the hill, Minghao stops in his track. A young woman is walking up the hill. She is dressed in scarlet and the roses in her hand, they are also scarlet. And Minghao feels the heat creeping up his neck and cheeks and ears, for he thinks, she doesn’t look like anger or a protest. She looks like earnestly curated words—a proposal of the infamous love.

Later that night, a bit way past midnight, Minghao mutters his request to his strangely quiet friends. Let him use the assistance of the wind, he says, there is a greeting that is due for delivering. And the stars fall into synchronous giggles, making the young man in the other end of the window grow scarlet from bashfulness.

And so it goes. For night and night, the wind slithers merrily in between the stars and the dusts, carrying Minghao’s genial greeting of the night before the young man returns to his nightly schedule of pondering with the stars. Night after night, before the moon continues its journey, bringing along the kindness of your heart and the beauty of your flowers with it, the wind arrives in your room with warm regards from the man with a thousand stars towards whom your heart starts to lean. And day after day, you meet the bashful young man on the hill, him with a single leather notebook, and you with a single flower. Until the wind escapes the stern dark clouds and leads you both one day to the park, and another day to the oldest library in town, and another to a café with the sweetest waft of pastries’ aroma.

Past midnight, when people put extra effort to extend their waking hours despite their lethargic minds, you lie on your side with a smile on your face. The moon doesn’t frequent your window as often and the wind only visits once in a while, but you know that everything has fallen into places. You listen to the moon’s stories as you usually do, but now it even has the company of one of the many stars. You greet the wind on the hill as you usually do, but now the clouds are becoming gentler with their errands and instructions. And past midnight, when people put extra effort to extend their waking hours despite their lethargic minds, Minghao sits on his armchair with a pen carving characters onto his papers with ease. The stars are as they were before they met him, but they answer every time still with the same ardor. He iterates the few concepts of the infamous love that he has written, and the stars shine even brighter with pride of their young friend.

And this, is the story of a young woman who plants roses in the ceiling and the walls of plain and grey with an abandoned scarlet paint and a young man who whispers half his soul with his bright words and completely logical nonsense by letting them filter through the fluttering leaves of her flowers. But of course, none of these would have happened without the perks of past midnight and the mighty force of the universe.

#xu minghao #minghao fluff #xu minghao fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #myungho #seo myungho #minghao imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #minghao scenarios #myungho fluff #fluff

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you-guys--are-losers · 6 years ago

Note

Hey! Could you make a oneshot where Michelle is sick and Peter takes care of her :)

//Totally! Sorry it took me so long to get to this, love. I have some AP studying to do, but I write better when I’m procrastinating, so here ya go!

Fever Dreams

Summary: When MJ falls ill, Peter makes it his priority to take care of her... No matter how unwilling his patient might be.

Warnings: Language, Death by Fluff

Word Count: 3,109

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker

ok mj so please don’t kill me

As soon as the notification lights up MJ’s cracked phone screen, she knows she’s done for. An audible groan leaves her lips as she glares at the screen, which has fallen into her lap on the outside of her blanket. For a moment, MJ seriously debates ignoring the text and allowing herself to be lulled back into the state between sleeping and wakefulness. However, just as she closes her eyes, the phone buzzes. Again.

MJ opens an eye to peer down at the screen.

i didn’t mean to tell him he just kept pushing it and i forgot what you told me to tell him

An incoherent mess of grumpy murmurs escapes MJ’s lips in a tangle as she shifts her body weight, still mumbling. It takes a moment to extricate her aching arms from their cozy blanket cocoon, but the air is unpleasantly cold on her skin as she picks up her phone and begins to text back.

So you told him the truth?

it was all i could think of

Another groan leaves MJ’s lips as she shakes her head slightly in frustration. This only worsens her headache, causing her to furrow her brow as she continues typing in her dark living room.

How the hell have you kept his identity a secret for this long if you can’t keep one secret?

i’m sorry mj

A sigh escapes her lips, but this time it is not a frustrated one. MJ takes a deep breath before typing her next reply.

I know you are, Leeds. I’ll let it slide this time.

She’s teasing Ned, and he knows it. He sends her an angel emoji, which does manage to get a slight laugh out of her, followed by a cough. Then, though, another text comes through.

peter just left my place though so you might be hearing from him soon

This causes MJ’s mood to fall again, and she lets out a breath. Suddenly, she’s even more tired than she was before, and she only manages to type a brief text before setting her phone down again.

Thanks.

Carefully, so as to avoid making her body ache more, MJ returns to her blanket burrito and closes her eyes once more. As she begins to sink into her fugue state, she mulls over the predicament at hand. It’s probably nothing, she reasons. He’ll text her in the morning, maybe, asking how she’s doing or why she didn’t tell him. And she’ll tell him the truth: she’s not that sick, and she just wanted to sleep. Everything is going to be fine.

Just as MJ is ready to shut off her brain, the phone in her lap buzzes with Peter’s ringtone. The movement is enough to jerk her out of her relaxed state, and a mixture of mumbled swear words leaves her lips as she struggles to get a sore limb free of the weighted blanket, which feels like an impossible task.

Are these two dweebs incapable of letting her be gross and sick in peace?

Finally, MJ manages to pick up the phone after several rings. She raises the cold hunk of metal to her cheek, which somehow feels like some Herculean feat with her sore muscles.

“Manhattan morgue here, you kill it, we chill it. How can I help you today?” MJ’s voice is flat, but she can’t keep the rasp from her sore throat out of her tone.

“You weren’t at school today because you’re sick.” Parker’s stupid, earnest voice has a note of hurt in it as he makes the statement. He isn’t asking; he knows, and he knows that she avoided telling him. MJ doesn’t like that she put that ache in his voice, so she quickly brushes past the statement.

“The CIA called me in today,” MJ rasps, pulling the rest of the blanket up over herself as she talks to him. “I can’t tell you about my mission, it’s above your clearance level, ‘Spider-boy.’“

“You told Ned and not me?”

MJ is quiet for a moment, struggling with how to respond. No snappy one-liner can explain away her reasons. No matter how much sarcasm she uses, MJ knows she will never be able to tell him the truth: that she told Ned because she doesn’t care how he sees her, and that she didn’t tell Peter because she doesn’t want him to see her at her lowest point.

“Parker-”

“You know what, it- it’s fine.” Peter’s voice is quiet as he interrupts her, and she can practically picture the resolute look on his stupid face. “It’s not a big deal. Are you alone?”

MJ glances across her empty living room as she answers. “No, the other two-thirds of my threesome is keeping me company.”

“MJ.”

“I’m fine, Parker–” MJ barely gets the words out before another fit of coughing wracks her body. Damn it. But then, she manages to stifle them long enough to repeat the words. “I-I’m fine.”

Peter is silent on the other end of the phone, and for a moment, MJ thinks she has gotten away with it and he’s going to mumble some sort of goodbye. But then, just as she lets out a sigh of relief, he speaks again. “Alright. May says I can come over, so I’ll be there in twenty.”

Shit.

MJ’s eyes widen as she holds harder to the phone, blinking quickly. “Alright. If you’re that eager to get me in my house alone, then I guess it’s cool-”

“You’re not going to embarrass me out of coming,” he replies, his voice calm and collected.

MJ mutters a curse under her breath. Why does he have to care so much about his friends? It’s not like she asked him to be selfless. But MJ knows deep down that she wouldn’t gravitate towards him the way she does if he didn’t have his stupid heart of gold, as annoying as it is.

“It’s just a fever, Parker. I’m not going to die after a night by myself.”

“Yeah, but I just… It sucks, to be sick when you’re home alone.” The note of determination that pokes through his words, when coupled with the way he is attempting to empathize with her, is enough to melt MJ into a puddle under her blanket.

“You know what sucks more? When your best friends are the sappiest people you know.” MJ allows a little note of fondness to seep into her tone, just enough to let him know that she appreciates his call. When he speaks, she can practically hear the slight cheerfulness that has slipped into his voice in response to her words.

“I’ll see you in twenty.”

“If the CIA doesn’t snipe you on the way in.”

MJ hangs up before she can change her mind, and then she is left in the quiet of her living room. She lets out a soft groan and rests her head against the back of the sofa, closing her eyes. She might as well take the last few minutes of dark and quiet while she can get them.

Unfortunately, those moments pass a little too quickly for her liking.

After what seems like only a few seconds, the door to MJ’s apartment rattles with the sound of a key in the knob, and then there is the sound of the door whining open. In contrast to the previous silence of the apartment, it is deafening. MJ groans and squeezes her eyes shut as the light from the hallway falls on her, and she rolls over on the sofa.

“Damn, Parker, way to make an entrance… Why do you still have that spare key?”

From across the room, Peter’s voice reaches her. He at least respects her headache by keeping his voice soft. “You left it with May that time you had us water your plants.” He is quiet for a moment, and MJ is pretty sure he is looking around the unlit apartment as he shuts the door. MJ rolls over again once the door is shut, blinking several times as she studies the dork in a Midtown hoodie and sweats.

His eyes find the TV, which is paused on The Haunting of Hill House. They then jump to the side table near the sofa, where a cold, half-empty mug of tea is placed beside a half-eaten bowl of saltines. There is also an empty medicine cup, out of which MJ took some cold medicine. The rest of the room is dark and fairly empty, except for her slippers on the floor, the wastebasket overflowing with tissues, and her old, worn slippers on the floor.

“You’re sitting here, in the dark, all by yourself?” Peter turns those earnest brown eyes to her, and MJ looks back at the TV to avoid his gaze. She is glad for the dark because she is pretty sure her cheeks are warm.

“Now you’re sitting in the dark, too,” she points out, studying the screen. “I like the darkness. It soothes my black soul.”

“Hey, I saw you sneaking dinner to Ned’s dog under the table yesterday, so we both know that you’re a softie, too,” Peter points out. The stupid grin on his lips is enough to make her feel even warmer, but now MJ doesn’t think she wants to look away.

“Whatever, dweeb.”

Peter winces at the grating sound of her voice, shaking his head. “Your throat sounds painful.”

MJ raises an eyebrow, and when she speaks, she exaggerates the husky tone of her voice even more. “Yours would too, son, if you’d smoked six packs a day since ‘62 like I have…”

Peter shakes his head slightly, but he’s still grinning. “What medicine did you take?”

MJ shrugs. “My mom had some cough syrup or something in the cupboard earlier,” she murmurs, resting her head back against the sofa. She tries not to think about the fact that he’s here, looking at her, when she knows for a fact she looks like death and she hasn’t dealt with her hair in over a day. If she had any more energy, MJ is pretty sure that she would be mortified to be seen by anyone in her stained Columbia t-shirt and old PJ pants, especially him.

Peter frowns, shaking his head. “You need to be drinking a lot, too,” he says. “How much have you had to drink today?”

MJ avoids his gaze. Instead, she gestures to the half-empty mug of tea, and Peter sighs. “Alright,” he hums. “May told me what I should do.”

MJ’s head snaps up, and her eyes widen. “You… You told May?” she stammers.

“Of course I did,” he says simply. “She was worried about you when you didn’t come to hang out with me and Ned tonight. She gave me a bunch of stuff to do.”

“Like what?” MJ presses, arching an eyebrow. She tries not to think about the way her heart is skipping beats now.

“She said that you’re going to be difficult about it, so you only get to know some of it,” Peter responds, grinning again.

MJ groans, shaking her head. “That’s it. She’s officially been demoted from her position as the coolest person I know. I guess I’ll have to occupy that slot again.”

Peter ignores that, moving towards the light switch. “She said you should take a shower first, or a bath. It’ll make you feel better.”

MJ barely has time to bury her face in the weighted blanket before he flips the switch, and a groan leaves her lips. The light does nothing to help her aching head. “Come on, Parker,” she complains, her words muffled through the cloth.

“You’ll feel so good if you do it,” he promises, and MJ can hear him moving to turn off the TV. “And if you do, we can watch the show when you’re done.”

That’s enough to pique MJ’s interest, and she slowly raises her head, closing her eyes. “I thought that you said you didn’t want to watch it,” she says, turning her head to where she thinks Peter was while keeping her eyes shut.

“Come on, MJ, go shower before I change my mind,” Peter presses, though there is a teasing note in his voice. “Do you want me to grab a change of pajamas?”

MJ hesitates, debating. She really, really doesn’t want to get up, not when her whole body is sore and she both has horrible chills and is overheating. But a shower is probably a good idea after sitting on the sofa all day, especially if he is going to be here, and maybe he’s right. Besides, she really wants to watch him flip out over some of the jumpscares.

“Fine,” she agrees after a moment, cracking her eyes open just slightly. “My pajamas are in my closet on the shelf to the left.” After a moment, MJ stands, sliding her freezing feet into slippers and moving to go to the bathroom.

“Wait,” Peter says quickly, moving to her side to press something into her hand. “May says to put some of this into the shower. It might make it easier to breathe.”

After the sudden, unexpected contact, MJ does not think that anything will make it easy for her to breathe ever again. For a moment, she panics, worried she is going to do something stupid. But, somehow, she manages to nod before disappearing into the bathroom.

It takes a while to calm down once she is alone, but Peter is right: the shower does help, as does the little jar he pressed into her hand, which she realizes is peppermint oil. The warm water feels nice on her aching muscles, and though MJ still feels like shit, at least she also feels clean. Once she has washed away some of the soreness, MJ steps out of the shower and reaches a hand out the bathroom door to grab the pajamas he left just outside. Once she has changed and run a comb through her hair, MJ does feel a lot better than she did before… She probably smells better, too.

After tossing the dirty PJs into the hamper, MJ emerges from the bathroom a moment later.

“Okay,” she admits, “so maybe you were right…”

MJ’s voice trails off as she breathes in the smell of something that she can’t quite put her finger on. She’s a bit too congested to tell what it is, but the apartment is warm. Peter has turned on the lights in the kitchen and living room, just enough to keep the room lit with a gentle glow. When she turns the corner, she finds the dweeb standing at her stove making a can of chicken noodle soup.

“Parker–” MJ stammers, eyes wide as she struggles for words. For a moment, she forgets about her aching head and body. He’s taken and washed her dishes, which are drying next to him, and he has her electric kettle brewing as he makes the soup.

Peter turns to face her then, and when he does, his mouth is open as if he intends to say something. However, as soon as his eyes find hers, he seems to freeze in the same way that she has. For a moment, they are both standing there, face to face.

Yeah, maybe MJ’s face is an ashen gray and her wet curls are soaking through the Hogwarts t-shirt she is wearing. And sure, Peter Parker is wearing her mom’s apron and has a little bit of the soup on the corner of his mouth from a taste-test. But in the warmth of the kitchen, with just the two of them in the apartment, something feels just a little bit too perfect.

MJ is the first to speak, quickly turning away from him. Her slippers shuffle on the linoleum floor as she crosses the kitchen to reach the cabinets, purposefully keeping her back to him. There is a large coffee mug in her hand before she speaks, and she continues to face away from him as she reaches for a chamomile tea bag.

“You didn’t have to.” She can hear Peter catch his breath, ready to continue, so she doesn’t give him room to speak. “But you did. So…” MJ turns then, wrapping her hands around a mug with honey at the bottom and the string from a tea-bag peeking over the edge. Peter hasn’t moved, and his gaze is nervous and unsure as it meets her own.

MJ can’t keep the corner of her lips from quirking up as she finishes. “Thanks.”

A breath of relief leaves Peter, and his whole body seems to release tension as MJ moves beside him to grab the kettle. The effect is rather comical, like the air leaving a balloon, and MJ’s grin grows as she takes the kettle and begins to fill the mug.

“May said it would help,” he informs her, moving to shut off the soup. “And you need to be drinking a lot of fluids while you’re sick.”

“I have been.”

“Half of last night’s tea doesn’t count,” he points out, and MJ makes a face at him as she sets the kettle back down again. However, the rhythm they’ve settled into is relaxed, and so the slight nagging doesn’t bother MJ.

“I’ve transcended. You don’t need hydration when you’re one with the universe.” Peter lets out a soft snort of amusement in response to her deadpan as MJ grabs a pair of bowls, and Peter reaches for two spoons and sets them beside the pot.

“Well tell the universe to help my best friend get better,” Peter replies, and his stupid, nonchalant comment is enough to cause MJ to nearly drop the bowls. Peter notices, but luckily for MJ he attributes it to her stupid fever. “Go sit with your tea and get the TV ready. I’ll be there in a minute.”

MJ is happy to obey, and by the time she has The Haunting of Hill House rewinded all the way, Peter has managed to set up a pair of tray tables and to grab an extra blanket for himself.

And that is how they spend the rest of the night: with MJ curled up in a massive blanket and Peter being scared shitless by the TV every few minutes. It’s warm and it’s easy, and it feels almost like something out of a movie.

And when MJ has almost drifted off to sleep, the brush of lips she feels across her forehead are is enough to convince her that it is a dream– never mind the extra bowl she finds drying on the counter the next morning.

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