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chenfleur · 1 year ago

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the long way home

summary. in which park sunghoon decides that nothing is more important than having you in his life.

pairing. sunghoon x y/n ft jake genre. high school au, fluff, angst word count. 4.8k released. 11.05.2023 author's note. experimented with writing style so sorry if this is bad and makes no sense 💔 enjoy 🙏

masterlist

"Two cotton candies, please."

The first time Park Sunghoon speaks to you, you're dressed head-to-toe in a blinding, neon pink.

The fundraiser uniform was your co-president's idea. She'd suggested it offhandedly in a delirious, late-night planning session, and in a rather unserious fashion, you'd agreed. It's hilarity overruled any embarrassment bundled with it.

When Park Sunghoon is the one standing in front of you, embarrassment crashes into you with the force of an eighteen wheeler.

His presence is overwhelming. It looms over you as you prepare his order. It sends a shiver down your spine, which is absurd when you've never even met him.

Someone could tell you that Sunghoon lives on a completely separate plane of existence and you'd believe them without thinking twice.

He's the basketball team's star player. He adorns the number twenty-three with poise and grace. He's the principal actor in people's dreams and fantasies.

To you, Park Sunghoon is like the moon.

Beautiful, and so, so far away.

The two cotton candies you hand him are less than perfect. Without much thought, a mumbled apology falls from your lips. He still accepts them with a polite smile. It sends a nervous jolt to your chest.

You watch him as he walks away and joins Jake Sim's side, handing him one of the cotton candies.

You know Jake Sim from your physics class. He catches your eye and sends you a friendly wave. You shoot him one back before hastily turning around.

A second later and you would have noticed Sunghoon's gaze, lingering.

Tuesday after school, Sunghoon agrees to meet with Jay and Jake in the East Wing.

He leans against a locker, watching his two friends bicker with each other. Occasionally cracking a smile when one of them says something particularly nonsensical.

Someone rushes past him. His breath hitches. Gaze flickering. When they stop in front of a classroom door, Sunghoon realizes it's you.

You knock on the door. While you wait, he takes you in.

The way your yellow sundress hugs your body in all of the right places. The way the pearl barrettes clipped to your hair reflect the afternoon sun. The way you tug the sleeves of your cardigan down over your hands. Sunghoon has the urge to roll them back up and interlock his fingers with yours.

Each second Sunghoon spends taking you in, his chest grows tighter.

The metal behind him is suddenly freezing to the touch. It bleeds through the fabric of his shirt. Pierces his shoulder blades. Is he shivering? He doesn't know.

The classroom door is opened. Another girl appears in the threshold, an easy smile on her face. The two of you exchange words before breaking out into giggles.

Park Sunghoon takes notice of you.

There’s a part of him that finds it unbelievable that he hadn’t done it earlier. There’s another that is deeply unsettled about it happening at all.

Either way, he takes great care in memorizing the outline of your figure. Grasping onto each note of your laughter.

Sunghoon bails on this week's team outing. His reason is that he has an important language arts assignment due at 11:59PM.

He isn't lying. His teacher had carved the words ‘no excuses’ into the very core of his being.

When the words on his page start looking like globs of nonsense, Sunghoon’s mind drifts.

The basketball season begins soon. Who is the first game against?

He searches up the school website intending to find the season schedule.

He pauses when he sees a photo of you.

It’s from the other day. The same day Sunghoon saw you in that pretty sundress. You’re watching the other people in the photo strike funny poses with a soft, tender smile on your lips.

The list of names goes left to right, top to bottom. Sunghoon’s eyes dart around.

L/N Y/N.

That night, Sunghoon has an important language arts assignment due at 11:59PM. His teacher had carved the words ‘no excuses’ into the very core of his being.

That night, Sunghoon spends his time learning about you.

Curiosity spared no mercy for the cat. You pray it's kinder to you.

There are three other water fountains located around the school, all perfectly capable of refilling your water bottle. Yet, their existence escapes you when you realize the person using the one you'd chosen to go to is Park Sunghoon.

You try to leave. You can't. His presence binds the soles of your feet to the tiles of the floor.

The first game of the season is a few, short weeks away. The air is full of the distant screeching of basketballs. Sunghoon's hair is damp with sweat. His arms and nape glisten under the fluorescent lighting.

Sunghoon's lips leave the jet of water. A loud exhale follows. You watch as he wipes harshly at the corners of his mouth.

When he turns around, his eyes widen. He looks surprised to see you.

Why wouldn't he? The two of you are strangers. Mutuals, at best.

Yet, he doesn't move from his spot. He doesn't cast his eyes away or walk past you.

His stare is heavy. You feel like he's peering into your soul. Judging it. Tearing it to shreds.

He silently moves to the side. You realize he's making way for you to use the fountain. Embarrassment floods your system.

The sound of running water ceases when your foot lifts off the pedal. A double twist ensures the cap of your bottle is screwed shut. You're set to leave.

But a hand encircles your wrist, stopping you. Spinning you around.

You're inches away from Park Sunghoon.

You're shocked.

You don't tug away.

Your eyes dart around his face, searching for an explanation. His expression is indecipherable. He suddenly won't meet your gaze, only unravelling your closed fist with gentle fingers.

You notice a slip of paper clasped in his hold. You watch it as he places it into your open palm.

His voice is near silent. Words evaporating when they leave his lips and hit air. You manage to catch them before they're completely gone.

"Call me."

When Sunghoon is sure the slip is securely slotted in your hand, he leaves.

There is an unfathomable amount of things Sunghoon's worried about. You throwing his number away. Laughing at him. Thinking he's a freak.

But in the deepest part of his brain, where he keeps his muscle memory of how to ride a bike or snap his fingers, the voice of his first ever coach resounds; something about missing one hundred percent of the shots he never takes. Sunghoon thinks he's heard it more in his lifetime than he's heard his own name.

It dawns on him that you being in his life, as even just the smallest of features, was not a shot he was willing to ruin.

You call Sunghoon at a quarter past midnight.

The clock on your wall ticks loudly, mocking you for taking so long.

You don't expect him to pick up at all. You don't need him to. Hearing his voicemail would be enough to assure you that what had happened was real. That it wasn't a figment of your imagination.

Park Sunghoon had left you paralyzed. All of your work had been neglected because of that crinkled slip of paper.

It's been on the edge of your desk for hours. It taunts you.

When you will yourself to call him, you had climbed onto your bed. The slip of paper stayed on your desk, untouched.

You didn't need it to call him. The digits of his phone number were already engraved in your head from how many times you thumbed over them on the way home from school.

The line rings. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Hello?"

You finally breathe.

"Sunghoon?"

A pause. Shuffling sounds from the receiver. "Y/N?"

"You told me to call you."

"I'm happy you did."

You hear the sound of birds singing.

You wonder if it's coming from outside or the other end of the line.

"Sunghoon?"

"Mm?"

"It's nearly six. We have school soon."

A huff. "Shit."

You break out into a smile.

Sunghoon makes hours feel like seconds. Conversation flows between the two of you with the ease of changing seasons. You don't think you could ever grow tired of listening to his voice.

There's a certain playful lilt to it. Teasing, yet kind. Each syllable spoken with a gentleness you can't quite grasp. Each boyish laugh that leaves his lips sweeping you off your feet. When periods of silence dotted your conversations, his slow breaths filled them in.

He had yawned, here and there. You told him to go to sleep. He refused. You didn't protest. Selfishly, you wanted to have him for a bit longer.

You can't discern what about him makes your insides turn upside down. He makes you feel vulnerable. All he'd have to do is ask and you'd be willing to bare your soul to him.

You decide you're okay with that.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Talk to you soon?"

"Yeah."

Your friendship with Sunghoon is a quiet one.

It's found behind small actions that seem to communicate everything.

Candies slipped into lockers. Split-second eye contact in the halls. Candid photos of each other in the courtyard. Your eyes searching the cluster of players during games from above, his searching each row of the bleachers from on the court.

It's hidden away from prying eyes, and that makes you cherish it even more.

At the first game of the season, Park Sunghoon scores a tie-breaking basket just as the countdown hit zero.

The gymnasium erupts into a thundering ovation. His teammates roar with victory. Tackling him to the ground. Clapping him on the back. Hoisting him into the air, tossing him up. Your heart lurches at the absolutely radiant smile on his face.

Chants of his name fill the entire venue. The commentator's voice booms through the speakers. Ladies and gentlemen, number twenty-three: Park Sunghoon.

You silently watch the scene, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

The difference between the intensity of a crowd and the stillness of the night air is jarring.

Park Sunghoon confuses you. You don't know how he has the opportunity or the desire to meet you after the game. He should be out with his teammates celebrating.

Instead, you receive a message to wait by the West gate.

Tonight is colder than usual. Icy wind grazes your bare knees. As you wait, anticipation knocks at your front door. You let it in when you catch sight of Sunghoon making his way towards you, a golden medal dangling from his neck.

He's glowing. Victory looks good on him.

A gasp escapes you when your feet leave the ground. Sunghoon spins you around in his arms, adorable giggles falling from his lips. Blissful warmth sprawls across your chest, seeping in every crevice.

"Tonight's MVP and you still have time to spare for me?" you tease, eyes shining.

"I have all the time in the world for you."

Sunghoon recounts the game with fervor. Galaxies swirl in his irises. You wonder if you'd ever feel as elated as he looks.

When he embraces you again, head slotting into the crook of your neck, holding you like he never wants to let go, your wonders are answered.

Park Sunghoon does not idle.

He walks with a destination in mind. He gives courteous greetings to those who he passes by in the halls, but his movements never stop.

The only thing Sunghoon willingly stops for is the sunset.

On days where he leaves school late, he takes the long way home. Down a street lined with yellow ginkgo trees, a left turn too early. Across the bridge bound for the city centre.

The long way home never really takes him home.

Sunghoon ends up on a pier in the harbour, letting vermillion and marigold rays of warmth soak into each pore of his skin. Unwinding with a low puff of air.

Recently, Sunghoon stops for you, too.

Whenever he sees you, there's a stutter in his strides. A stiffness in his fingers. A clog in his airway. The world around him starts to spin, yet he himself freezes.

The next time Sunghoon takes the long way home, he stays with the sunset for longer than usual. He sits instead of standing, letting his feet dangle off of the pier's edge. It makes the sloshing sound of the water below him even clearer.

Sunghoon closes his eyes. He inhales the salty, sweet air. Feels his teammates hugging him. Hears hundreds of people chanting his name.

Sunghoon closes his eyes, and sees you.

It takes ten games for defeat to seize Sunghoon by the throat.

Under the dim light of the locker room, Jake eyes his friend warily. He searches for any sign of emotion in the lines of his stone cold face. If he didn't know him any better, he'd believe he's simply reserved.

But Jake Sim has spent too much time uncovering Park Sunghoon to be ignorant to his character.

He’s torturing himself.

"Jay," Jake whispers. Caution laces his voice. "I feel like we should do something."

Jay's eyes flit over Sunghoon's figure. The air is heavy before he responds.

"I think it’s best we don’t pry."

When the sound of their steps fade away, Park Sunghoon drives his fist into a locker door.

He knew something was off. When their score plateaued while the opposition's climbed. Frowns painted themselves on his teammates' faces. Shots kept getting fumbled. Intercepted. Rolling off the rim.

Sunghoon feels his knuckles throb as he lets his hand fall to the side.

Anger and guilt are a dangerous pairing. They swirl in the pit of his stomach like a storm and render him feeling weak.

He hates how badly he's taking this.

"Sunghoon!"

Peace of mind reaches out to him in the form of anxious footsteps.

From around the wall, you appear. Worry taints your features. It's a blow to the stomach for him. "I- I was waiting for you outside but I heard a noise-"

In two urgent strides, Park Sunghoon's lips are on yours.

Time pauses. Uncertainty hangs in the air. Sunghoon is racing at a million miles an hour.

When he feels you kissing back, he crashes.

Anger and guilt are a dangerous pairing. They join forces and leave desperation in their wake.

Sunghoon kisses you harder. He wants you to fill in all of the parts that feel empty. He wants you to help him feel whole.

You're pliant under his fingers, back slightly arching whenever he squeezes your waist. Sunghoon revels in the gasp that leaves your mouth when his hands slide under your shirt and paint landscapes on the expanse of your back. It's music to his ears. He records it in his mind before drowning it out with another searing kiss.

When you part to catch your breath, your forehead instantly presses to his. Chasing his touch, craving more of his skin against yours.

You look up at Sunghoon. His eyes are downcast to the floor. He feels your hand travel up to his hair, gently pulling on it. A silent plead.

He doesn't meet your gaze. He's floating. Adrift at a lawless sea. His palms continue to rub up and down your sides.

Sunghoon doesn't know how long the two of you spend in each other's arms. He doesn't want to know. Knowing would define a beginning and an end.

Sunghoon never wants this to end.

Seven days.

It's been seven days since Park Sunghoon last spoke to you.

With the way he walks past you without a mere glance, you wonder if what happened was even real.

But, you can still feel it. You can still feel him.

He had kissed you in that locker room. He had stolen the air from your lungs and never returned it. His scorching hands had burned themselves into your skin.

You pass him in the hall wordlessly. That's how it's always been, except there's no more eye contact that asks silent questions of 'How are you?" and speaks delicate words of "I'm happy to see you today."

Every one of your waking hours is spent wondering what went wrong.

You begin to neglect assignments and reject invitations to go out. Teachers eye you with concern. Friends ask if you've been feeling off. Everyone spares you a glance and a hushed whisper, except Sunghoon.

A frustrated hand cards through your hair.

Do you consume his mind as much as he consumes yours?

The hateful part of you prays it does. Prays that he's getting a taste of his own, cruel medicine.

When you lie in bed, you peer out of your window. The moon glows as brightly as ever. Oblivious to your broken resolve.

To you, Park Sunghoon had always been like the moon. Beautiful, and so, so far away.

Except, for once, he didn't.

He didn't feel so far away when his lips were on yours, hands roaming your bare back, rough fingertips grazing your sides. When your breathing had mixed into one exchange. He'd felt so, so close.

If only you knew he was going to be out of reach again so quickly.

For someone who's ranked 230th out of 239 students, Jake Sim is exceptionally sharp.

With a gentle tug aside to an empty classroom, he asks you the question you've lost nights worth of sleep over in a single, easy breath.

"What's going on between you and Sunghoon?"

You shift uncomfortably in your spot. The straps of your bag were suddenly too tight, suffocating you.

You take your time loosening them. Jake only watches you silently.

You're exploiting his patience. Trying to dodge the inevitable. But, what can you do? Confrontation frightens you to no end.

You choose the easy way out: you tell a bad lie.

"Nothing's going on between Sunghoon and I. What business could I possibly have with Park Sunghoon, of all people?"

Jake subtly rolls his eyes. He can tell that you don't even believe your own words.

"I might've believed you if I hadn't seen the way you look at him in the hall, Y/N. I can tell Sunghoon's been off, too. He's all tensed up."

For a second, you rejoice. You haven't been the only one losing yourself to blurred lines and longing.

When that second is over, emptiness settles back into you. "I see."

"I didn't know the two of you knew each other," Jake muses innocently.

It takes all of your strength to turn away from him and grasp the door handle.

"We don't."

Desperation doesn't overpower fear. Fear is still there as you march up to Park Sunghoon's table in the cafeteria.

You just simply cannot take it anymore.

Jake notices you before Sunghoon does. He isn't any closer to discovering what had happened between the two of you. Your entire relation leaves him at a loss.

But, he can tell by the way the smile you flash him in greeting doesn't reach your eyes. The way your gaze immediately falls back onto Sunghoon with melancholy.

You're tired.

Lightly, he kicks Sunghoon in the shin. Jake ignores the glare he receives, only nodding his head towards you. He's praying he's done you a favour.

For the first time in weeks, Park Sunghoon looks you in the eye.

His silence stifles the rest of the table. Their attention weighs heavy on your shoulders.

Fear looms much closer and higher than before. Fear is about to pinch your nose until you pass out cold.

"Sunghoon."

His name is already bitter on your tongue. Is it from all the times you've cursed it in your head?

He stares at you before redirecting his gaze to his food. Like you're some sort of eyesore.

Fear drops to the ground, dead.

"Park Sunghoon, what is your problem?"

Whispers surround you. Chills travel the length of your spine.

You think back to your brief conversation with Jake. How you had said there was nothing happening between you and Sunghoon, and how evident it now is that all of that was bullshit.

But now, you couldn't care if the whole universe is privy to you and Sunghoon's relationship.

All you want is to know is what realization he had. In this moment, you're desperate to realize it too.

"When will you cut the shit?"

Silence. A fork scraps against a plate.

"You know, Sunghoon. I've thought many things of you. How could I not? The school's star athlete who has everyone at his feet."

A dry laugh, a nervous glance to the side.

"You had me, too."

Sunghoon's knuckles turn white from how harshly he grips his fork.

"Never did I think of you to be a coward."

The sound of your steps bounce off the walls. Every pair of eyes in the room trails behind you, this time, including Sunghoon's.

His brain is a broken record machine. Replaying your words again, again, and again.

What is Park Sunghoon so... afraid of?

What is he so defenseless against that it's worth seeing the lights in your eyes die?

Sunghoon doesn't know what compels him to ignore you. To walk past you each day, as if you didn't convince him that happiness doesn't exist anywhere except for in your arms.

Perhaps, it's that you are a whirlwind of unfamiliarity. An onslaught of foreign emotions. You make him unsure of what to do with himself. Perhaps he finds it easier to avoid that than to approach it.

He's been so adept at pushing it away, that he doesn't realize you're slipping through his fingers until his head is an echo chamber of your words.

He had you.

"Sunghoon..." A voice cuts through the fog. Sunghoon isn't sure which of his friends it belongs to. From the intonation, he assumes that it's Jake.

"Whatever this is, you've got to fix it."

Sunghoon has listened to your voicemail play six times. He's been trying for an answer, yet he doesn't mind dialling for a seventh.

You sound happy in your voicemail. He never wants to forget what you sound like happy.

"H-Hello?"

Sunghoon's been lingering at the summit of a cliff. Carefully composing himself to avoid slipping off the edge.

When he hears how utterly broken your voice is, suddenly, he's plummeting.

"Sunghoon?"

Falling, falling, falling—

A sniffle, followed by an impatient sigh. "Sunghoon, if you're just going to waste my time-"

"I'm outside."

Sunghoon closes his eyes. He sees the ridges and lines of your front door. He thinks they're permanently printed into his eyelids from how long he's been standing on your doorstep.

Don't hang up. Don't hang up.

"What?"

Sunghoon opens his eyes.

"I'm outside your door."

In his peripheral, the curtains of a window crack open. His heartbeat reaches his ears. You don't question him any further, but he hears distant footsteps from your end of the line.

The front door opens, then stops. Ajar. Hesitating.

Sunghoon knows you're on the other side. He prays you don't retract your movements.

You don't. You push through.

When you appear in the doorway, his breath dies in his throat.

Slightly bloodshot eyes. Strands of hair astray, haphazardly held together with a claw clip. A large sweatshirt swallowing your frame.

Sunghoon doesn't think he's ever seen anyone as beautiful as you.

He should've spoken by now. He'd planned on speaking by now, yet all he can do is look at you. Eyes trailing over every delicate curve. The slope of your nose, the moles on your hands.

When he hears the small sigh leave your lips, he knows you're slipping away.

His brain goes into overdrive. He needs to act fast.

Frantically, he clears his throat.

"Come watch the sunset with me."

A breeze blows by. The neighbour's wind chimes knock together, playing a soft jingle.

"Please."

The only words you speak to Sunghoon on the bus are to ask where you're going.

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, remaining silent.

You close your eyes. Surrendering. You're so sick of his silence.

You shouldn't have come. You're stupid to have believed otherwise—

"Don't."

Eyes snap open.

You turn to look at Sunghoon. You find that he's already looking at you.

"Don't- don't regret this," he pleads. Desperation pours from his voice. You would've scoffed if he wasn't wearing the rawest expression you've lived to see.

Park Sunghoon leaves you in despair.

No matter which lens you look at him through, he has no solution. He's wrung you dry of hope, yet you don't find yourself objecting when he brings your head onto his shoulder. His hastiness screams craving for proximity. Craving for reassurance.

Deep down, you know you're just the same.

You let Sleep take you.

It's the soundest you've slept in weeks.

You've seen the sunset thousands of times in your life.

From every place you've ever been. School grounds. Your bedroom. The drive home. Through the eyes of others.

And yet, none of those thousands of times hold a candle to the sight from the pier.

"It's beautiful," you breathe out.

A small hum in agreement. You smile weakly.

You know he isn't looking at the sunset, but you don't face him just yet.

"Sunghoon?"

He steps closer.

"What happened?"

You can feel him stiffen. Your eyes never tear from the vermillion sky. You're not sure if you're paralyzed by beauty, or by fear.

A head drops onto your shoulder. Its weight is comforting. Slowly, he readjusts himself to stand in front of you. Face pressing into your neck. Hands wrapping around your waist, holding on like you'd disappear if he let go.

His body shakes with each breath. It takes every bit of your resolve to not wrap your arms around him.

You let Park Sunghoon cry on your shoulder.

You don't think you'd ever deny him of it.

The sun doesn't budge from where it sits in the sky. It seems to be waiting for the two of you.

When Sunghoon peels his face away from you, you finally look at him. You can feel your heart fall apart in your chest.

Park Sunghoon is more beautiful than any sunset you'll ever see.

A careful hand reaches up. It barely rests against his jaw. You nearly chuckle at how he instantly leans into your touch.

He's staring at you through half-lidded eyes. Slightly parted lips. A gaze filled with longing, remorse, and a million unspoken words.

He leans in, nose brushing against yours. Before he can mouth the words he wants to say, you meet him half way.

The kiss is slow. Delicate. Fragile. Sunghoon is too scared to treat you as anything less.

It lacks the hunger of the one before. Your body is pulled flush against his. He's trying to convey thousands of apologies all at once. Hoping his sincerity can penetrate your skin, travel through your veins, and reach your soul. The way he's kissing you is heart-wrenching.

"I-" he gasps when you part. "Please. Please forgive me."

"Come back to me," you croak. "Why did you shut me out?"

He presses kisses to your jaw, then to your cheek. His hands slide up to your cup your face.

"Because I love you."

You close your eyes. Soaking in each sacred word that falls from his lips. Shuddering.

You feel like crying.

"I love you so much that I don't know what to do with myself. With you, nothing feels real. Time stops ticking. Everyone else fades into oblivion, and I feel like I'm on top of the fucking world," he whispers, voice wet and rushed.

Your forehead connects with his. A gentle rhythm is tapped onto his nape with the intention of calming him down.

"I've never felt like this before. I- I just-"

Sunghoon's face twists. He's fighting against his emotions.

You watch as he deflates.

"Please... find it in your heart to forgive me."

A small smile graces your face.

Under the glow of the setting sun, everything is okay.

"Stop staring at me like that."

Sunghoon peers up at you from your lap. His face glows golden.

A mischievous smile appears on his face. It infects you like a virus.

"Is it illegal for me to admire my girlfriend?"

"Yes." You shoot him with a finger gun. "Hands up."

Soft laughter fills your ears. You let Sunghoon pull you down into a gentle, loving kiss.

You'd let him do it for all of eternity.

To you, Park Sunghoon is like the moon. Beautiful, and so, so far away.

Now, you think Park Sunghoon is more like the setting sun.

Beautiful, and just on the way home.

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years ago

Text

Bad For Business: Level One

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.3K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

“You’re late.”

“No I’m not.”

You were. Twenty five minutes, in fact, and your stomach was still swirling from the night before, remnants of cheap beer and cheaper vodka mixing unhappily with the cold, strawberry pop-tart you’d force fed yourself on the way to work.

Steve Harrington leant against the wall with a grin as he watched you struggle to clock in, the old machine chewing up your employee card before it finally stamped it. You pushed past him, shoulder into his in a way that was awfully familiar now. The blunt words, the eye rolls, the semi serious acts of violence all part of your work day and they had been since last summer. He didn’t give in to you, arms colliding, the smell of his cologne now on your T-shirt too.

“Hungover?” Steve asked, enjoying the way you squinted against the harsh, fluorescent strip lights.

The office was much quieter than the arcade outside of the staff doors and you were trying your best to stay away from the sounds of Super Mario and Pac-Man for as long as you could. Except Steve wasn’t making it easy.

“No,” you lied again. You were so hungover, stupidly hungover. And tired. You’d barely managed to crawl back through your bedroom window when the sun was beginning to rise, the summer outside starting back up as the sky turned apricot and the birds sang. Eddie had walked you home, both of you sharing the last dregs from a lukewarm beer before he bent at the waist and let you use his back as a footstool, groaning and swearing at you as you took too long to grab the end of the broken trellis. “What’s with the fucking interrogation, Harrington? Did Murray die and leave you in charge?”

Outside the office, the arcade machines jingled, beeping and ringing with each win and loss, the constant clinkclinkclink of quarters being dropped into the coin slots, the yells of sugared up kids making your head pound.

“Nah,” Steve’s grin only widened, an almost smirk that made you grit your teeth together. You busied yourself at your locker, shoving your bag into the too small space, the rattle of the metal hurting your very being. “Seeing you each morning is just the best part of my day.”

You rolled your eyes at Steve’s blatant lie, snorting at the possibility you could both be anything close to friends. Steve Harrington lived to annoy you, and had done since middle school. He spent the first couple of grades annoying you at recess, pulling your hair and snickering with his friends when you yelled, all pink cheeked and shocked looking when you stomped towards him, indignant, shoving the heel of your buttercup yellow shoe into his toes.

It went on like that, spitballs launched from each end of the classroom, backs of chairs kicked and faces pulled at the other during presentations. Then you both got older and the words got colder, scathing remarks made in the hallway, lockers defaced with semi serious insults and potential dates ruined by mocking comments said in front of crushes.

Then high school was over, Hawkins seemed to get smaller and the only job available to get you enough cash to leave the tiny, backwater town was a position beside Steve at Upside Down Arcade. Run by someone who everyone only knew as Murray - a man who had absolutely no time for anyone under the age of twenty five and was utterly inept with technology - the arcade was a staple in Hawkins. As permanent a feature as the community pool, the town hall and the library; the brown brick building looked bland from the street outside, but stepping in the doors led kids into a maze of gaming machines, air hockey tables and neon lights.

The carpets had seen better days, the Space Invaders themed pattern a headache of dulled yellows, purples reds and greens, the painted black walls barely seen behind the rows and rows of games, all brightly light and beeping, illuminations flashing pink and blue, leaderboard charts mocking on the screens.

It smelled like burnt sugar and stale popcorn, despite the machine not having worked for over a decade. A heavy mix of all things bad for you: sour candy, old hotdogs, cherry slush stains and pre-teen hormones.

“If I’m somehow even bringing you the slightest bit of joy with my presence, Harrington,” you deadpanned, “then I’m doing it wrong.” You slammed the locker door shut and smirked when Steve had to yank his hand back, fingers narrowly avoided.

He narrowed his eyes at you, moving only to grab his name badge from the board, making sure he knocked yours onto the floor when he shoved the bundle of keys into his pocket that opened up all the coin slots.

“Murray’s not in until later, Donkey Kong is fried and oh,” he clicked his fingers and pointed a digit at you, all faux sympathy making his face soften. “I knocked you off the top spot on Dig Dug. Again.”

You glared. Steve grinned.

You wanted to say something sharp, something witty and mean, but your head was still pounding and your throat felt like the Sahara Desert. “Bite me, Steven,” you muttered instead, shoving past the boy so you could get out the door first, for no other reason than simply to feel like you’d won something.

Steve was too close behind you when he answered, all charm and flirt, the cadence of his voice dropped to the level he used when he flirted with the older girls that brought in their baby siblings.

“Bend over then, Princess Peach,” he cooed, “at least lemme see what I’m working with.” His voice was at your ear, his stupid hair tickling at your cheek.

The stupid nickname made your nostrils flare, but the suggestive comment before it had your toes curling. You scoffed, shocked, because as the summer crawled by and the heat got higher, you and Steve’s snipes were getting more and more below the belt.

But that was his bravest yet.

You didn’t bother turning round, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, and Jesus, you were sure your cheeks were flushed - but if he dared comment on it, you would’ve blamed it on the hangover you told him you didn’t have.

“You’re a pig,” you bit out, ignoring how he kept close behind you as you finally braved opening the door.

The arcade was already full to the brim, bursting with kids, a line of them at the desk, ticket stubs clutched in sticky hands, dollar bills ready to be exchanged for bags full of coins. The door almost hit Steve when you let it go behind you, his hands barely catching it as he scowled at your retreating figure. You planned to lurk in the darkest corner of the arcade for your entire shift, maybe sipping on a stolen slurpee, biding your time and waiting for your headache to soften enough in order to conjure a formulated attack on the Dig Dug machine.

You turned around just before Steve served the first customer, narrowing your eyes at him in suspicion. He was already behind the cash register, Erica Sinclairs bundle of tickets in his hands as the girl pointed at a toy sword in the cabinet.

“And don’t even try and pretend you haven’t looked before,” you called back to him, smug and referring to his lewd comment before. “Oh, ‘lemme see what I’m working with’,” you mimicked. “You’re not sly, asshole.”

A few kids tittered at the insult, Dustin Henderson snorting especially loud, but some gasped at how you cursed in front of them, a sure fire way to know there’d be a hand written complaint about on Murray’s desk tomorrow. You’d hoped your jab would make Steve shrink, maybe blush like he used to when you got all brave and bold with him. Shit, maybe he’d even had the right to look ashamed.

But he simply shrugged, tongue pushed to the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smirking at you but his expression was still the same.

Pleased. Too cocky. Challenging.

You went straight to Dig Dug.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

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piratekane · 2 years ago

Text

Beatrice sighs as her pen runs out of ink. This is the second pen today and she’s starting to feel like there is something working against her. But, that seems illogical. The more logical conclusion is that Ava has used her pens. She has a tendency to use them until they’re nearly dry and put them back in Beatrice’s backpack, thinking she’s doing a good job returning them to where she found them.

Not maliciously. There’s nothing Ava does that is malicious. Beatrice knows she’s probably thinking: I borrowed this. I need to put it back. And then she does and Beatrice opens her backpack at the student center the next day, intent on getting some work done while she waits for Ava, and finds her pens dry.

She looks through her pencil case but there isn’t another pen, just a precisely sharpened standard pencil, two black mechanical pencils, a yellow highlighter, a soft white eraser, and her red pen - used to make corrections only. She debates using it.

No. It would ruin her notes.

Instead, she pulls out her laptop. She’ll just continue her notes there and transfer them to her notebook later. The extra repetition will be good for her. Her professor asked her a question she wasn’t quite prepared for and she knows she’s going to be thinking about it all week until she has a chance to redeem herself in the next class.

Her screen comes to life and she sighs. This one isn’t born from frustration like her last one; this one is an acceptance, an admitting to herself that, despite what she’s looking at, she can’t help but feel a rush of affection for it.

Ava has changed her desktop background again. This time, it’s a picture Camila took last weekend. Ava is in a white shirt and white shorts, a white sweatband around her forehead. All of it is stained in neon paint. She’s holding a fake plastic trophy high above her head with one hand, the other looped around Beatrice’s neck, the two of them squished into the frame. Her own clothes are soaked with the same bright colors.

How she agreed to something called a Color Run... The idea of running through cannons of color had not sounded appealing, but Ava had come home with a flyer she found on the bulletin board outside the cafeteria and presented it to Beatrice alongside a bulleted list of reasons why Beatrice should say yes.

She let Ava go through the list: one, you love to exercise. Two, it’s advertised to make the world ‘healthier’ and you’re always telling me I need to start making better choices. Three, imagine if we got Lilith to agree to come and someone blasted her with a color cannon?

The third one hadn’t been convincing. Lilith would never agree to something like that.

Beatrice didn’t tell her that the list didn’t matter; she was going to say yes the moment Ava handed her the flyer and looked at her with those eyes, the ones that always made Beatrice feel like she could free fall and not care what waits for her at the other end of it.

And she had to admit, it was rather fun. The white clothes they bought were completely ruined, but it had been worth it to see the way Ava beamed the whole run, sprinting ahead to circle back around her. She had thrown her arms wide when the color cannons went off, soaking in the powder. Beatrice soaked in her happiness in return.

It hasn’t been long. Spring is fading into summer quickly and Ava has been living with her for two months and every single moment has been filled with the kind of happiness that Beatrice could have only dreamed about when she was younger. The kind of happiness that made each day feel like it was worth waking up for.

She hadn’t gone looking for this, hadn’t expected something like this to just fall into her lap - or literally crash into her table. It’s illogical to think fate sent Ava into her orbit, but if she was pressed, she could admit that each of them must have been in the right place at the right time. Serendipity, Ava said with a rakish smile. We were destined to meet.

If there was such a thing as serendipity, it must be working in her favor.

She opens a word document, the cursor blinking at the top of the page. She titles it Anthropological Theories of Religion and flips through her textbook until she finds the correct page. She likes this class, likes how as she continues through her degree program the class gets smaller, more intimate. She typically likes the professor, though she feels thrown off by her now.

Halfway through a word, her world goes dark. Warm hands slide over her eyes, fingertips pressing against her skin.

She smiles nearly instantly. “Ava.”

“Not Ava,” says a low voice. But it’s clunky, a poor imitation at something deeper.

Beatrice plays along for just a moment, indulging Ava and a part of herself that likes to make Ava happy. “Oh? Well then. I suppose a stranger has found it appropriate to put their hands on me.” She curls her fingers around a thin wrist, one her hand already knows the shape of, and tightens slightly. “I do know how to disarm you.”

“You could try.”

Beatrice tightens her grip in response and hears a slight exhale that glances against the shell of her ear. A fingertip skates across her brow briefly and then Ava is letting go, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before she sits down heavily in the chair next to Beatrice.

“How did you know it was me? What if I was… Mary?”

Beatrice spares Ava a glance. “Mary knows better. You, on the other hand…”

“I’ve never known better.” Ava says it with pride. “Especially not when it comes to you.”

Beatrice feels her chest tighten. She wonders if Ava knows, if Ava understands how something so simple unspools the tight loop Beatrice keeps around her heart. A part of her thinks Ava must. Ava is able to read her so thoroughly. From the moment they met, Ava has seen through her so effortlessly. It’s thrilling, to be seen like that.

And it’s devastatingly terrifying.

“Yes, well,” she says quietly.

“One day, you’ll use that to your advantage.” Ava spins Beatrice’s textbook towards her, reading a few of the section titles before she turns it back towards Beatrice. “But you’re also too nice for that, so who knows.”

Beatrice straightens out her textbook out of habit more than anything else. “You’re late.”

Ava smiles sheepishly. “I got caught up.” She doesn’t give an answer past that.

Beatrice nearly frowns. Ava doesn’t owe her any more of an explanation. She just usually gives one.

“But I’m here now!” Ava takes off her backpack, resting it on the floor before she opens it and takes out her own laptop. “I thought you didn’t like typing your notes? Muscle memory or something, right?”

“My pens are out of ink.”

Ava’s cheeks flush. “That’s my fault, isn’t it.”

“It’s certainly not mine.” She says it without any malice. “I just need to start carrying more pens.”

Ava still looks guilty. She fishes into the pocket of her jean shorts and unearths a stick of gum, three paper clips, and an uncapped pen. She spreads them out on the table and nudges the pen towards Beatrice. It’s not the tip she likes, thicker than she usually uses, and it’s blue. If red would ruin her notes, this would change the physical shape of them.

She takes the offered pen and closes her laptop. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” Ava smiles and scoops the paper clips up, putting them back in her pocket.

Beatrice will find them later when she does the laundry and she’ll add them to the jar of pocket-trinkets she keeps of all the things Ava leaves behind in her clothes. It’s made up of coins and paper clips and pen caps - all things that Ava swears she’s going to put in proper places but never remembers until Beatrice is pulling them out of the washing machine.

Ava takes the gum and breaks it in half, offering it to Beatrice. She has coffee and this gum is spearmint. The combination will taste horrible. But she puts the gum in her mouth and smiles when Ava does.

“So, listen to what MacKay did today.” Ava tells the story animatedly, face shifting as she plays each character. Beatrice doesn’t catch every word, too focused on the rise and fall of her voice and the way her hands move as she goes on. Beatrice finds herself smiling along, not at all caring about some girl named Carina or Professor MacKay and whatever argument they’ve gotten into this week.

Ava is halfway through her story, body gearing up to drop the punch line, when her face shifts and her eyes cut over Beatrice’s shoulder. Beatrice frowns, turning to look. A boy is approaching their table, hands locked around the straps of his backpack as he strides towards them.

“Hey, Ava!” he calls.

Beatrice looks back at Ava. She knows this boy, at the very least. But her face is unreadable - a feat Ava doesn’t manage to accomplish very often. He comes closer and Beatrice’s frown deepens.

“Ah,” Ava says quietly.

Ah?

The boy slows as he reaches their table, a smile on his face that someone might find charming. She studies Ava’s face. Does she find it charming?

“Hey, Ava,” he repeats. His voice is smooth, slightly accented. A traitorous part of her thinks of the time that Ava said she liked accents. “I was hoping to catch you after class.”

Ava smiles. “Sorry, JC. I was in a hurry. Had a lunch date.” She hooks a thumb in Beatrice’s direction. “JC, meet Beatrice, my best friend. Beatrice, this is JC. He’s my biology lab partner.”

JC. She’s never heard of him before. Ava talks about everyone and everything. Some nights, she talks until she falls asleep on the couch, her Hobbes stuffed animal clutched in her arms. It’s almost as if she collects stories all day just to tell them to Beatrice later. She knows about every one of Ava’s classmates, is - secretly - invested in her Literary Theory classmates, Robert and Nayara, and their on-again, off-again relationship. She knows about the librarian Ava likes, who doesn’t mind her iced coffee, as long as she uses a paper towel and keeps it away from the books.

But she’s never heard of a JC, or anyone who might use the initials JC.

And it’s not that Ava isn’t allowed to have friends. She is. She has plenty of them. She always says hello to at least fifteen people when they go out, either here to their favorite table in the student center or in the library or walking to the cafeteria if they’re getting lunch between classes. Ava loves people, loves knowing things about them. Beatrice loves that about her.

She just thought she knew all of them. Or has heard of them before. She certainly thinks she would have remembered hearing about Ava’s lab partner. It's odd, now, that she hasn't.

JC smiles at her, his eyes taking a moment longer to shift away from Ava. “It’s nice to meet you. Ava has talked a lot about you.”

Beatrice hides her smile at that. “Nice to meet you,” she says politely.

He completely turns from her, his job of mirroring her politeness gone, his job done. Beatrice finds herself studying him. He’s attractive in a conventional sense. A strong jaw, a good smile. Camila would have many things to say about him and Beatrice works to keep her voice out of her mind. She focuses on Lilith instead.

Boys, she would probably sneer. Beatrice agrees.

JC runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back a little. Beatrice watches Ava’s eyes follow the motion and fights a visible frown. JC notices, though, and seems to preen a little in a way only university-age boys can when they find themselves to be attractive. She takes a centering breath. She doesn’t know JC. She’s sure he’s a nice person. She’s also sure he’d be a nicer one if he wasn’t standing at their table right now.

“I just wanted to know if you gave any thought to my question.”

“Ah,” Ava says again.

Ah?

JC doesn’t seem bothered. “I know your rule on dating your lab partner. It’s a very specific rule but I think you should give me a chance.”

Dating echoes in Beatrice’s head like a slow siren, like the slow spin of a lantern in a lighthouse. It illuminates JC, floating in the ocean in her mind, with his charming smile and his hopeful eyes. Ava appears next, face unreadable. They rotate around and around until they’re in the same frame.

She blinks and Ava is staring at her, a slight wrinkle in her forehead.

Beatrice keeps her face neutral, unsure of what else to do with it. She certainly can’t shout no. She absolutely will not encourage it. She’s stuck in a sort of limbo where she isn’t sure what comes next and so she waits, poised and ready to do whatever is needed of her.

Ava’s frown deepens.

JC takes the silence and runs with it. “If it’s because you’re worried about things being awkward if it doesn’t go well - and that’s a big if - then you don’t need to worry.” His smile widens and he leans one hand down on the table, his whole body angled towards Ava now. “What do you say?”

Say no, she thinks. Tell him to go away.

Ava has been living with her for two months and Beatrice has been in love with her for at least half of that.

It took some getting used to, this feeling. It took many nights laying in bed staring at the ceiling and pretending like the feelings she had for Ava were just a friendship. An intense one, born of their proximity and Ava’s natural affinity for people in general.

But love is friendship caught on fire, she’s read before. And her friendship with Ava is a living, burning thing. She knows their love would be incendiary, scorching everything she thought love looked like before.

If - and it’s a big if - Ava ever wanted to love her back.

Why would she? Why would she give up a world of possibility for Beatrice? She’s certainly nothing special. She’s disciplined, polite, considerate to the needs of others - all the things her parents wanted her to be. Ava wants someone free, a little brash, selfish in the right ways. Beatrice is none of those things, can’t even begin to think of how she could be. But Ava deserves to get what she wants after all those years of being denied even the simplest of things.

Beatrice just doesn’t have the qualities Ava could want. Friendship is one thing. Being in love with someone is another. Beatrice is hyper aware of the difference.

It doesn’t stop her from dreaming about it, though. It doesn’t stop her from wishing for it.

“What’s the worst that could happen? We spend the rest of the semester ignoring each other?” he asks, smile charming.

Yes, she thinks. What’s the worst that could happen between them? They could spend the rest of the lease ignoring each other. Ava would never look at her the same.

She’d have to go back to living her life the way it was before Ava - not the worst, but not as great as this.

“I don’t know,” Ava finally hedges.

Yes, Beatrice exhales in her mind.

JC leans forward a little more. “It doesn’t need to be anything big. We could go for one of those iced coffees you like. At the cafe near Venable?”

“She likes the one near the English department.”

Beatrice frowns. Surely that wasn’t her voice. But Ava and JC are both looking at her. So it must have been her. There’s a slight smile on Ava’s face, a slight frown on JC’s. Beatrice clears her throat.

“I’m sorry. I just…”

JC recovers. “The one near Eldridge Hall, sure. I know someone who works there. She can sneak us a pastry.”

Ava hasn’t looked away from Beatrice. “I don’t know,” she repeats.

Beatrice swallows. It’s fine. Ava is - well, not quite a grown up, but certainly not a child. Despite her propensity for Saturday morning cartoons on Beatrice’s Hulu account - which is ruining the algorithm of her suggested shows - and sleeping on the couch upside down like a toddler and eating, God help her, shredded cheese out of the bag after finishing half a gallon of milk without even pouring herself a glass, she is not a child.

She can make her own decisions. And if that decision is- If it’s- Well. Beatrice swallows past a knot forming in her throat. Well. She can do what she pleases. Including this probably-very-nice-boy in front of them. She’s allowed to do that.

So she smiles tightly, her lips pressing together thinly, and tells herself to get it together. She keeps her focus on Ava and loosens her mouth and it feels a little more natural. She inhales through her nose. She can tell Ava that she’s free to do whatever she wants with whoever she wants.

“You do like a free pastry,” is what she ends up saying.

Ava’s forehead pinches, the corners of her mouth crinkling. “I do,” she says slowly, confused.

“An iced coffee and a pastry.” Beatrice says it just as slowly. “Both things that you enjoy.”

“I do,” Ava repeats.

Beatrice nods encouragingly. Her head feels like it’s on a spring, up and down and up and down. She’s worried it’s going to roll off.

JC looks between the two of them, confusion on his face. Beatrice sees him out of the corner of her eye and her smile tightens again.

Ava is still staring at her, still frowning slightly. Beatrice forces herself into her most diplomatic smile.

Don’t you get it? she wants to ask. Don’t you understand what I’m trying to say?

But Ava misses it. Because she breaks Beatrice’s gaze and focuses on JC instead. Beatrice thinks her smile is slightly dimmer. Or she’s just hoping it is. But it still doesn’t ease the pain of knowing there is a smile and it’s aimed at JC.

She opens her mouth, but he beats her to it. “Listen, you have my number. I’m done with classes this evening. And then you’ll meet me for coffee, okay? And you won’t regret it.”

Ava says nothing. JC pushes back from their table and smiles, hooking his hands back around the straps of his bag. His eyes wander to Beatrice and he nods politely before turning in a lazy circle and heading back through the crowd as the student center starts to fill up as afternoon classes.

Beatrice looks away instantly, busying herself with adjusting her notebook. It doesn’t need to be straightened out. In fact, she pushes it out of place and the pen Ava loaned her starts to roll across the table towards the edge. She reaches for it at the same time as Ava does.

Their fingers tangle and the pen is trapped under Beatrice’s palm. She pauses, every nerve exposed, and looks up to find Ava already looking back at her.

She smiles, mouth still wound too tight. “I’ve got it.”

“Do you?” Ava asks curiously.

Beatrice frowns, looking down. Their fingers are still slotted together, still laced over the pen. Of course she has it. It’s right there, scratching blue ink against her palm.

“Because it seems like you’ve lost everything else,” Ava continues. “Like your cool, for instance.”

She pulls back minutely. “My-” Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that?”

Ava shrugs a shoulder. She only does that when she has a secret, when there’s something that Beatrice missed, a cue she didn’t read. “You do like a free pastry,” she mocks, her voice pitched low in a terrible approximation of Beatrice’s accent. “What gotten into you?”

“Oh.” Beatrice bristles. “Well, you do.”

“I know that. You know that.” Ava pauses. “Why does JC need to know that?”

Beatrice doesn’t have a good answer for that. So she makes one up. “Your potential suitors will need to know things about you. That is less a trivia fact and more of a necessity.”

Ava snorts loudly. Beatrice looks around, but no one seems bothered by the sudden noise. “My potential suitors?” She shakes her head. “Bea, honestly. No one talks like you do.”

She doesn’t make it sound like an insult. She never does, never has. She seems more entertained than anything, but not in a way that makes Beatrice uncomfortable or self-conscious. It makes her feel seen. And she loves to be seen by Ava. It uncoils some of the tension in her shoulder that she knows is radiating into her hand, tense under Ava’s touch.

Ava doesn’t move her hand. “Well, thanks to you, I think I’m going on a date tonight.”

Thanks to me. Thanks to the way she said Ava would enjoy herself. Thanks to her, Ava is meeting someone who isn’t her for a coffee at Ava’s favorite cafe where she only brings Beatrice. One of our places, Ava always tells her with a smile.

“You can say no,” she reminds Ava, her whole body locking up again.

Say no, say no. She feels each word burn in her throat. But why would she? Why would she pick someone like JC over me?

Ava is still looking at her curiously, head tipped slightly as she studies her face. Beatrice holds still, face perfectly impassive from years of practice. She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t open her mouth and tell Ava that JC seemed nice but she deserves something better than nice; something spectacular.

Then again, she’s not sure that Ava would feel that way about her.

So she forces her face to relax. Works through each muscle until she’s smiling slightly and nods encouragingly. “But if you like him and can see yourself enjoying your time, you should say yes.”

“Do you want me to?”

The question cuts through her with the intensity of a perfect lightning strike. She pulls back slightly, the only indication Ava’s hand tightening over hers when it starts to slide away. Ava’s face has gone from curious to a level of seriousness usually reserved for her more difficult homework assignments, or when she’s trying to figure out something Beatrice said.

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s my decision.”

“Well, you’re my best friend.”

Beatrice has never hated a description more in her life. She fights the visceral reaction she feels come alive in her chest. She is Ava’s best friend. She’s admitted that more times than her parents have told her they love her. The first time had been a surprise to both of them, almost too soon after Ava moved in. But it felt natural. Ava slotted into the unknown hole in her life like she had always been there.

But she’d set their whole foundation on fire if it meant one day she could be Ava’s best friend and, and, and.

She widens her smile, feeling like she’s playing a part. “Of course. But I suppose… Well, there’s no harm in trying, is there?”

Ava’s hand slides away now and the feeling that she said the wrong thing rushes in on her.

“A very diplomatic answer, Beatrice.” She pats the top of Beatrice’s hand before she pulls it into her lap. “Remind me again why you’re not running for student government?”

Beatrice doesn’t smile. She simply touches her notebook, arranging it’s already perfect line. She looks down at the chunky-tipped blue pen sitting on the page, so out of place against the neat, thin, black lines of her notes. Suddenly the idea of writing with it feels overwhelming.

“I think we better get to lunch.” She puts the pen in front of Ava. “Camila said she was going to meet us there.”

She needs the buffer, needs to put space between them. Camila is the perfect distraction. Mary and Shannon would know instantly that something was wrong - and they’d corner her until she said what. But perhaps they might not; Shannon seems supernaturally in tune with her and there’s rarely a thing she needs to tell her. Lilith would read Beatrice’s hesitation and be annoyed. Or think it’s Ava’s fault and be cagey when she doesn’t need to be. Camila would be too polite to acknowledge the tension Beatrice knows is radiating off her.

Ava, mercifully, doesn’t argue with her or point out that Camila isn’t meeting them for another 15 minutes and the walk only takes 5. She pockets the pen again and packs her things away, waiting for Beatrice to zip her bag closed.

They walk inches apart, shoulders to themselves. It’s the longest 5 minutes of Beatrice’s life.

The door opens slowly. Beatrice looks up from her book, the one she’s been reading since Ava left; the one she hasn’t been reading at all. Ava slips through it, back turned to close the door quietly behind her. When she turns to the living room, she gasps.

“Beatrice.”

Beatrice blinks. “Why are you sneaking back in?”

Ava is still taking deep breaths, hand pressed to her chest. “I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“At…” Beatrice checks her phone, frowning. “Eight o’clock in the evening?”

The tips of Ava’s ears go red just enough for Beatrice to notice. “Well. I didn’t look at the time.”

Beatrice looks out the window at the golden sunset. “It’s still light out.”

“You’re an early sleeper.” Ava sounds like she’s grasping at straws, the pitch of her voice rising.

“Not that early,” Beatrice says flatly. She slips her bookmark into her book, grateful to be closing it. “8 hours a night are important, but if I went to sleep at this hour, I’d be up at four in the morning. That’s too early, even for me.”

Ava toes off her shoes, kicking them towards the shoe rack at the door. One of them lands on the rack but the other bounces off it and away. Ava sighs, fixes it, and runs a hand through her hair when she straightens up.

“How-” Beatrice stops. She suddenly needs to be busy, needs to have her hands moving. She could open her book again, thumb through the pages. But tea sounds better. She stands, crossing to the kitchen and filling the electric kettle.

“I got you a coffee.” Ava pulls out a stool tucked at the breakfast bar, leaning forward with her chin in her hands. “But some kid on a skateboard crashed into me when he cut a corner and took the coffee down with him.”

Beatrice pulls two mugs out the cabinet, dropping a tea bag in each. “Are you okay?”

“Just my pride.” Ava shrugs when Beatrice looks back. “But I’m disappointed. I got you a mocha chip frappuchino. Lucy put in extra chocolate chips.”

Something flutters in Beatrice’s chest, a sudden thought that overwhelms her: maybe Ava does these things because she feels it too. She pushes it down and smiles. “I do like when Lucy makes my drinks. But, maybe next time.”

Ava is quiet long enough that Beatrice wonders if she left. The kettle starts to whistle and she fills the mugs, balancing them carefully as she carries them to the counter Ava hasn’t moved from. She’s just uncharacteristically quiet. She hums a thank you and curls her hands around the mug, hissing when she finds it’s too hot.

Beatrice can’t help the fond smile; Ava is always rushing into things.

It’s why Beatrice knows Ava doesn’t feel the same way. She’s not rushing into this, not caught up in a whirlwind like she is with everything else.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how my date was?” Ava finally asks.

I don’t want to know.

“How was your date?” she asks politely.

Tell me it was the worst date you’ve ever been on. Worse than the one you told me about where the boy slurped his pasta and sauce got everywhere; worse than the one where the girl tried to cast a love spell on you.

Ava shrugs. “It was… nice.” She blows on her tea. “JC is a good guy. I knew that already. But it wasn’t… groundbreaking.”

Beatrice is patient, letting her tea cool on its own. “Does a date need to be groundbreaking?”

“World-breaking.” Ava says it so quickly and fiercely, Beatrice has to blink. “It should be life-altering.”

“That seems like a lot to expect for a first date.” Beatrice points out. “At a coffee shop. With your lab partner.”

Ava shrugs. “Maybe I just have high expectations.”

Ones Beatrice can never live up to, it seems.

She smiles, hoping it looks warm and friendly. “You’ll have a hard time finding someone with an outlook like that.”

“I don’t know.” Ava takes a sip of her tea, hisses again. “I mean, a lot of things in my life have been like that. Getting out of the orphanage. Getting into school. Meeting you.” She’s staring at Beatrice now, a smile on her face.

She curls her hands around her mug and fights the way it burns her skin. She’s hardly earth-shattering, hardly worth that much. There’s no way she could be. But Ava is so earnest all the time, means things so completely. And if she’s saying that, Beatrice has to acknowledge that Ava considers her something great. A great friendship that Beatrice could never, ever risk.

But she feels herself flush all the same. “I’d hardly call it that.” She hedges around her next question. “So, no second date?”

She wonders if Ava hears the way her voice trembles; she can certainly feel it in her chest.

But Ava doesn’t seem to, too focused on taking another, slower, sip of her tea. This one apparently doesn’t scald her tongue. She grins up at Beatrice, hunched over the steaming mug. She’s brought her legs up on the rungs of the stool and her knees are around her ears. Ava clutches the mug tightly to her chest.

She’s in love with a menace.

“I don’t think so,” Ava says after a minute. “I mean, I don’t really have a reason not to, but…”

Beatrice breathes in deeply, steadying herself. She’s not a reason for Ava to say no. She knows that. “That’s not very encouraging,” she says instead.

Ava shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not looking for anything to change right now. I want things to stay exactly as they are. Things are perfect. And if I went out with him again, I’d just be, I don’t know. Pretending.”

She takes another measured sip of her tea. She feels like she’s walking in the empty space between the points of knives. “You wouldn’t be happy.”

Ava shakes her head softly. “No, I wouldn’t be. How could I be happy if I was pretending all the time?”

Beatrice knows. Because she is. She’s pretending from the moment she wakes up to the moment she falls asleep alone and all the seconds in between. She’s pretending that everything she’s feeling isn’t consuming her from the inside out.

All the books she read as a child, all the romances novels she devoured in her bed with a flashlight illuminating the pages - none of it described the way it feels now. Love is friendship on fire had seemed like such a childish thing to say. Something arbitrary and insignificant. But now she understands what it’s supposed to mean, what she could never understand before with anyone else.

“You couldn’t,” she admits. She’s not lying.

Ava’s eyes are still piercing, still searching her face. She wonders what Ava is trying to find and she keeps the truth as far away from her as she can. Either she finds something else or she gives up, because her face breaks into two and she’s grinning.

Ava slurps her tea, smiling wider when Beatrice looks mildly disgusted. “Alright. The way I see it, we have two options: we have a sleepover night where you let me braid your hair and I let you paint my toenails.” She laughs when the mild disgust turns into outright horror. “Or, I get you back into that really nice sweater you were wearing earlier and we got off in search of a replacement mocha chip frappuchino?”

Beatrice abandons her tea almost immediately. “Do you know what time Lucy’s shift is over?”

Ava jumps off her stool, landing lightly on her feet. She doesn’t bother with sneakers, socked feet sliding into sandals. Beatrice thinks about telling her how ridiculous it looks: her mid-calf socks usually hidden by her high-top sneakers, and a pair of black slides; her jean shorts where the pocket hangs just a little too long past the hem; her crop top with How you lichen me now? hand-stenciled on the front, from the one botany club meeting she attended; her hair half-pulled back in a high top-knot; a crooked grin on her face.

She’s the most beautiful woman Beatrice has ever seen in her life.

And one day, someone else is going to get to call her theirs. Beatrice will be left with the empty space where Ava used to be, her own space in Ava’s life filled up with someone else. Someone better. Someone she wants to rush headlong into the future with. Someone she sees a world of possibilities with.

Beatrice will be happy for her. Or, she’ll exhaust herself pretending.

“Milady,” Ava says, mouth tripping over the sounds. She holds out her arm. “Will you accompany me on this chip?”

Beatrice rolls her eyes. “You hardly made an effort that time.”

Ava’s smile doesn’t falter. “One of these days, I’ll impress you, Beatrice. You’ll see.” She wags her finger at Beatrice. “And then you’ll realize how special I am. You’ll never want to lose me.”

“No,” she says quietly. Ava slips away to grab her phone, abandoned on the breakfast bar. Beatrice waits by the door, holding it open. “I don’t suppose I ever will.”

It’s inevitable. She’ll lose Ava to someone who loves her out loud, someone good enough for her. But she’s going to bury greedy hands into the moments in between and hold on for as long as Ava lets her.

“I think I’m going to tell JC it was nice, but we won’t go out again,” Ava says conversationally as they exit their apartment building, headed towards campus. “He was nice, but… I’m looking for better.”

“You’ll find it,” she says, believing it wholeheartedly. She unthinkingly maneuvers Ava around a crack in the sidewalk. “You just need to be patient.”

“Patience isn’t my strong suit.” Her hand slides to Beatrice’s, their fingers slotting together for a fleeting moment. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait. But I'll try.”

Just keep waiting. Wait forever, her mind screams. Don’t find anyone before I can be who you need me to be.

Ava takes in her silence and laughs. Beatrice frowns, not in on the joke, but doesn’t protest when Ava laces an arm through hers, pulling until their pressed together from the shoulder to their elbows, digging into each other. There’s no space between them, not for a slip of paper or a secret.

Ava hums softly, some tune Beatrice doesn’t know, but would guess is some new song on the radio that she’s never heard. Beatrice lets it bubble in her chest, sinks into it’s familiar warmth, and hopes that whatever God is watching over her lets her keep this moment for as long as she can.

And if he isn’t, she hopes he’s just not paying enough attention to realize she’s living on borrowed time and that she’s running out of it.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #forever roommates #jealousy turning saints into the sea #but also poor bea?#(as if i didn't write her into this corner)#everyone say thank you kay thank you kay #anyway let's try for a little less next time yes?

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thescarletnargacuga · 4 months ago

Text

UNSEEN FRAGMENTS

PART 3 OF THE UNSEEN SERIES: A HARLEQUIN AU FANFICTION

Harlequin AU credit: @tadc-harlequin-au @iamespecter

Shadowblade is my OC and is NOT CANON

WARNING: intense violence, mechanical gore, swearing, long read

~~~

"Fascinating, aren't they?" Thousands of small neon green-yellow butterflies swarmed the manor forest. Kingr was covered in the fluttering friends, looking like someone took a highlighter and dotted all over him. "They're migrating south, and since this is the only bastion of green for quite a ways, they all flock here for a respite. We're so fortunate the manor grounds is on their marching order." He held his butterfly covered hand close to his face.

Shadowblade laid on the grassy ground next to him, taking in the nature around them. They watched the tiny specs of color flying around in the cooling breeze. The seasons were changing, it's the first they ever noticed. Has the world done this before? They could feel the crisp air against their armor, sending a chill through their body, making the metal creak.

Shadowblade listened to Kingr as still and as quiet as possible, not wanting to scare the precious insects. Many landed on them, their butterfly light touches adding to the new experience. Shadowblade went crosseyed trying to see the ones that landed on their snoot. To see such small delicate lives exist beyond the war torn past was... comforting.

Kingr took his attention away from his hand to see Shadowblade being so attentive and a smile reached his eyes. He gently shook the butterflies from his hand and gave Shadowblade a pat on the head. "You may be a war machine, but that doesn't define who you are. Trust me, I would know."

Shadowblade rumbled against his touch, lowly vibrating the ground. It was nice to experience so many kind hands. Not just from Kingr, but Caine and even Pomni. They loved the positive attention, it made them feel...it made them feel.

"Sorry, to interrupt..." Caine joined them on the edge of the forest. "But could I borrow Shadowblade? I have something new to show them." Excitement laced his voice. His white shirt was covered in grease and smoke stains.

Kingr got one last pat in before Shadowblade stood, scattering the butterflies. Shadowblade followed Caine, who had a bit of a skip in his step, to the barn. "You're going to love this! I've been working on a few redesigns for you! You're already spectacular but there's always room for improvement! Your wings for example..." He uprighted an apparatus on the barn floor. "How would you like to be capable of actual flight!? It would mean removing all the blades except your outermost, and making some adjustments to your armor weight, but it's possible!"

Shadowblade examines the wing apparatus curiously. It was huge, they flexed their current wing-like blades in comparison.

"I know, it'll take some getting used to, but it'll be worth it! And don't worry about the amount of noise on landing, I have some improvement ideas for your paw pads too. A genius like me doesn't just think of one thing at once." He chuckled and wiped his stained glove against his shirt. "Anywho, this will take awhile, so get comfortable."

Shadowblade settled and quietly powered down. As much as they felt like they needed to see Caine work, if this was going to be as invasive as it seemed, they didn't want to be awake. They'd experience plenty of positive touch today and Caine was trustworthy, so they finally decided to take a nap instead of endure the pain.

Caine did a double take when he heard Shadowblade's systems powering down. They'd always stayed awake, no matter what sort of repairs had ever been done. He grinned and spoke softly. "You're in good hands. Rest well."

He got work right away, disassembling and rebuilding Shadowblade's entire wing structure. As he was installing the right wing, he had to take off part of the side of Shadowblade's chest. The molten gold core shined before him like a beacon, beckoning to be studied. Caine leaned over to see Shadowblade still completely off, fast asleep.

"One little peak wouldn't hurt." He carefully reached inside and felt the core for opening points. There were cracks all over the core's protective case, years of wear and tear evident of a long hard existence. His fingers found a latch and the core opened. Shattered remains of something fell out and he cursed to himself as he caught them. He checked Shadowblade again, still asleep.

Inside the core was a glowing, amber gold crystal. Fluid pumped into a chamber the crystal covered and flowed out to the body. He leaned in as close as he could, squinting to see black spidering cracks spread across the crystal. Being this close, he could feel a soft radiant hum emanating from the epicenter of the core.

"Beautiful. A crystalline core with energized fluid distribution. I've always theorized this was possible, but never seen it done practically. How was your crystal charged? How has it stayed charged?" He, very carefully, took a scraper from his pocket and shaved off a micro sample of the crystal. Shadowblade didn't even twitch, much to his relief. He closed the core's case and backed out of Shadowblade's chest to examine the bits that fell out.

Three crumbled purple stone pieces with strange markings sat in his palm. He immediately recognized them as parts of what was once a charm. He turned them over to examine all the markings, he recognized only a few. His own charm knowledge was not as extensive as Ragatha's, and would have to get her to look this over more thoroughly. He paused when he saw markings that weren't runic in nature, they were english letters. SB

"Huh...never seen someone sign their work this way. Maybe..." He trailed off and pocketed the charm shards. He could think on it later. He resumed his work on the upgrades.

"Hey, have you seen Caine?" Pomni inquired to Gangle as they passed in the hall.

"No, Miss Pomni. I have not seen him all day. I assume he is in his workshop?" Gangle answered in a soft voice, lowering her gaze submissively despite being much taller than the Harlequin.

"I just came from there. Fucker's probably out. Why didn't he think to take me with him? I'm bored as hell!" Pomni crossed her arms in a disappointed huff.

"I'm sure he had his reasons. Maybe it would've been dangerous and he didn't want you to get hurt."

"Bitch, please. I eat danger for breakfast. Then I top my salmon burger with it for lunch. THEN I-"

BOOM!!

The whole mansion shook. Pomni unsheathed her sword and rushed to a window. She saw no immediate threat, her eyes landing on Shadowblade. The beast leapt into the air, flapped huge wings and landed back down with another heavy boom. Caine was outside waving his arms and dancing around.

Pomni threw open the window, jumped out and put her sword away. "What the fuck is going on out here!?"

"Pomni!! You're just in time! Shadowblade has wings now! Look!! They can really fly!!" He held his hands out towards Shadowblade with pride.

Shadowblade tried to take off again, awkwardly flapped like a baby bird and fell back to earth. They vented air hard, their systems not used to the strain on their front limbs. They flexed their new wings at Pomni, Caine's excitement was infectious.

Pomni blinked, trying to process what was happening. "...uh-"

"BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING! It will take some time for Shadowblade to get the hang of it, as flying was never part of their original design, and I have no idea how to program the directive. Honestly, I would be hesitant to even try. So this will be a learning experience for the both of you. Machine learning at it's finest. Oh! And look!!" Caine pulled at one of Shadowblade's front paws, signaling them to lift. "I improved their pads too!" He squished his face against the paw the size of his torso. "They're thicker! Should help soften the landing a bit and be a bonus for stealth."

"....still shook the whole house."

"Well, yeah. We're right next to it, and Shadowblade easily weighs several tons. They're never going to be perfectly silent, but it's an improvement! So, what do you think?" He let go of Shadowblade's paw and clasped his filthy hands together.

"Uh, neat, I guess. Not super thrilled about the idea of being high off the ground."

"But you've been doing so well, I was starting to think your acrophobia-"

"IT WAS NEVER A PHOBIA!" Pomni exploded unexpectedly. She looked away and spoke quieter. "But yeah, I've been handling heights better lately."

"Progress. That's what's important." Caine sighed. "I should get cleaned up. You and Shadowblade can experiment with the wings, if you want." Before he could walk away, he felt Shadowblade's maw against his back. He pet Shadowblade as they pressed against him and rumbled their low mechanical purr. He smiled a little. "Nice to know someone around here appreciates what I do." He didn't look at Pomni as he left.

Pomni watched Caine leave without a word. Her insides twisted a bit with guilt. A chuff from Shadowblade got her attention. The beast lowered themself to the ground, offering the saddle to her. The crystal charm on her right hand glowed softly. "Yeah, I could use some fresh air." She mounted up and they took off out of the city.

The shower was more of a phycologcal need than a physical one, sometimes it felt good to literally wash the day off. Caine stood under the hot stream, trying to relax his mind. "Why can't anything I do just be enough?" He let his mind wander. A dangerous thing, but it needed the freedom to process his thoughts before he stamped the emotions back in place. He stayed until the hot water ran out, shots of icy water bringing him back to reality.

He wrapped himself in a towel and went through the pockets of his dirty pants before he forgot what was in there. He didn't want his tools going through the laundry again by mistake. He found the pieces of the charm he discovered inside Shadowblade as well as the core sample. "Hm...I've had suspicions since day one that Shadowblade isn't a true marionette. Maybe this is my answer." He closed his fist around the pieces and got dressed to see Ragatha.

Shadowblade stood on a high rocky outcropping, judging the distance to the ground and feeling the direction of the wind. They could feel Pomni's nerves through the connection. This was dangerous. Maybe, just a tiny bit, TOO dangerous. Maybe they should climb back down. Maybe they should hop along the ground some more. Maybe....they should just go for it.

Shadowblade looked over their shoulder to Pomni. "Don't look at me, I'll never be ready. Jump when you want." Her grip on the saddle left permanent indents in the leather.

Shadowblade adjusted their stance and unfolded their wings. The wind caught enough that they could stand on their hind legs. For what it was worth, the view was rather nice. They flapped and lifted from the rock. The strong wind carried them up and away. They steadied themselves in the draft, they could feel Pomni's heart racing.

"Okay, okay, okay, this is okay. We're in the air. Oh my fucking god, we're in the air." Pomni refused to look down.

Shadowblade tried to send reassuring vibes back, but they were too nervous themselves. They've never been this high up.

Then, the draft died. Shadowblade lost altitude rapidly. They tried flapping, it wasn't helping much, just made the turbulent descent all the more bumpy.

BAM!!

Shadowblade bellyflopped to the ground. They moaned as Pomni slid off and puked. She braced herself on her knees and horked up everything her system. "Ugh...this isn't going to be a fun learning curve."

Shadowblade groaned back.

"So, what do you think?" Caine sipped a glass of brandy as he poured over books and old maps in the library.

Ragatha cross references symbols on the charm pieces with ones in her book. "Well, I can tell you for certain that it is some sort of suppression charm. The stone itself is fluorite based, which isn't local to our area. As for the writing, I don't know. I've never seen a charm with english letters. I'm surprised doing that wouldn't interfere with the charms purpose. Unless it's part of it, but I don't know of any ritual that would use initials."

"Suppression..." Caine muttered to himself, looking at the charm around Ragatha's neck. "Why would a marionette need suppressing?"

"They wouldn't. They have no emotions or will to suppress. ...are you thinking what I am?"

"Yes, and I don't like it. I had my entire head inside their core. I didn't see a D.I.E. It doesn't make sense. They're powered by some crystal. I have to run more tests, but if I find presence of a soul... I don't even know what to think." Caine set his drink down.

"We don't know for certain. We shouldn't jump to conclusions. I said it was a type of suppression charm, it doesn't necessarily mean that it was being used to suppress free will. It could have been used to suppress the amount of power in the core. Maybe Shadowblade was too strong and... needed to be tamed."

"I'm willing to bet my last bottle that the charm broke when pomni shot Shadowblade in the chest when they first encountered each other. That's when I met them. That's when they were acting weird. That's what gave me the suspicions that they weren't normal. I should have seen it when I first gave Shadowblade the choice to stay."

"Maybe the crystal itself is a D.I.E?"

"If it is, It's the most unusual way to contain a soul."

"I mean, think about how big they are. Could a single puppet soul pilot an entire war machine without help?"

"Maybe? Maybe not? Take Z, for example. Many her size required the use of multiple souls. A lot of constructor puppets suffered that fate." Caine looks over the map on the table. "You said the stone has fluorite in it?"

"Yes, It's what gives it it's purple color."

"I think I have an idea where it came from." He pointed to a spot far east of the City of Circuits. "The City of Gears was one of the largest industrial cities in the world during the war. Fluorite is used in smelting."

"I don't think I've ever been there."

"The only thing your missing out on is a marionette infestation and bad investments."

"What..?"

"Nevermind. Pomni and Shadowblade could check it out but I want them to take backup."

"I'm not going anywhere near that place."

"I wasn't going to suggest it, I need you here. Z and Kingr are too big to ride on Shadowblade's back, and walking would make it a three day one-way trip. No, they need to fly."

"Gangle wouldn't want to go either."

"That just leaves...oh boy. Pomni's gonna kill me." Caine sighed and downed his brandy.

WHAM!!

Shadowblade goes headfirst into a cliff, just missing the top by feet. They dig their claws into he clifface to stop from free falling again. Pomni popped her dislocated shoulder back into place. "Fuck these stupid FUCKING winds!! Why do they keep changing??"

Shadowblade struggled against the crumbling cliff as they climbed to the top. They repositioned themselves to try again, looking back to check on Pomni.

"Just go, before I change my mind. LIKE THE WIND!!" She shouted angrily into the air.

Shadowblade dove over the edge. The momentum carries to their wings and they rose back into the air. With a smoother take off, they settled into a flight pattern around the wasteland. Shadowblade felt more comfident with every wing beat. They went even higher, to the clouds.

Pomni felt oddly at ease when she could no longer see the ground. The mist of the clouds felt cool against her face. When Shadowblade breaches the top, the vibrant colors of the waning sun were all around them. The connection felt calm and happy and excited. This was truly beautiful. The ultimate escape from the world.

Pomni raised her arms up in a shout of elation. Shadowblade roared with her as they soared across the sky.

Caine checked his W.A.C.K.Y watch for Shadowblade's position. They would be returning any moment. He left Ragatha to the research and found Jax on the roof.

Jax laid against the slanted roof, watching the stars slowly appear. He heard Caine's blink and internally rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

"I have a mission for you." Caine leaned against an adjacent roof section.

"Joy of joys." Jax said sarcastically. "Where am I headed?"

"The City of Gears...with Pomni and Shadowblade."

"Why-"

"Because I need you two to do some investigating. It's about Shadowblade. I'll spare you the details, but I think that's where they came from and it could lead to answers about their origin. I don't expect, nor really care, if you care about Shadowblade. All I need you to do is help Pomni. The city is swarming with marionettes. Who knows what you'll face."

"Hm...sounds dangerous."

"It will be."

"I'll need something in exchange for my services."

"That can be arranged."

"Your watch is quite fancy."

"Off the table." Caine narrowed his eyes.

Jax smirked. "Then I'll have to take a peak in your workshop, do a little...shopping."

"Off. Limits." Caine said sternly.

"Hm, then I guess Pomni's on her own." Jax shrugged.

"I can offer upgrades, charms, hell- new clothes, better accommodations...?"

"Nah, I like your fancy gadgets. They look fun to play with."

Caine grunted. "I'll see what I can come up with, but you an Pomni leave tomorrow."

"Fine. I'll go with piranha teeth to the city of whatever. What exactly are we looking for anyway?"

"....I don't know."

Jax laughed. "Seriously?"

Caine flustered a bit with embarrassment. "Like I said, I just need you to be Pomni's backup. Leave the rest of her and Shadowblade." Caine blinked away.

Jax kept chuckling to himself. "What a maroon."

Shadowblade glided down into the city and attempted to land on a long straight stretch of road. They came down a bit fast and stumbled. Pomni barely kept her grip as she was thrown forward ass over teakettle over the handles of the saddle. She hung awkwardly next to Shadowblade's neck until the beast stopped for her to let go.

"That wasn't the worst landing of the day. The fact we're in one piece of good enough for me." Pomni decided to walk the rest of the way to the manor.

Shadowblade was sore all over. Their armor felt overly sensitive to every cut and dent, a few spots bled. A small whine came from them as they walked.

Pomni felt the pain in the connection. "I'm sore too. I'm lucky I could hold on through most of that." She didn't realize the extent of the pain Shadowblade was in. This wasn't just them complaining about being over worked. They felt beaten and battered and bruised for the first time. They weren't used to this level of pain just from getting thrown around. Pomni shooting them and stabbing out their eye hurt less.

They go through the gate and nod to Z. "Yeesh, What happened to you two?"

"The wind." Pomni groaned.

Shadowblade grunted in agreement.

"The...wind?"

"Yes, the fucking WIND. It is an EVIL force of nature. Tossed us like a salad all over the wasteland."

Z sniggered.

Pomni went into the mansion, Shadowblade followed her through the windows. They made a habit of it. It was interesting to see the others interact in this large dollhouse. Not far inside, they see Caine appear in front of Pomni. They spoke. Pomni yelled. He looked exhausted. They half shouted more at each other. They came to an agreement. Pomni stormed away. Caine dragged his hands down the front of his face. Shadowblade had felt mixed emotions through the connection. Frustration, but not anger. Respect, but not fondness. It was interesting and confusing.

Caine caught sight of Shadowblade's golden stare through the dark windows. He waved. Shadowblade slow blinked in return. They moved on the the next floor to find Pomni. They came face to face with Gangle. She screamed. Shadowblade should've seen that coming. They moved down the side of the building.

They spied Ragatha in the library, reading and examining something on the table in from of them. Their optics zoomed in. Pieces of purple stone...markings...SB...

Shadowblade felt like they were hit by a charging drill worm. The letters burn in their mind. Flashes of unknown faces fly through their vision. Gold light. A woman's scream.

Shadowblade topples over and scrambles to their barn. They hid inside, producing a copious amount of mist. Their mind races. Their body shakes. They couldn't hear their core cracking over their hyperventilating.

Pomni would have felt the intense fear and anxiety too, if she hadn't just taken off the charm in preparation to go to bed...

Jax was the first out that morning. His hammer collapsed and compacted against his back for travel. He wasn't alone long, the combat harlequin was an early riser when it came to missions. He pointed to the barn. "Is your beast sleeping in or what?"

Pomni hadn't put the charm on yet. She saw black mist pouring out of every crack and crevice like it was a hot box. "...what the hell?" She put on her mask and opened the doors. "Shadowblade! Why are wasting all your mist!? Have you been doing this all night!?"

No response.

"Shadowblade?" Pomni put on the charm. She felt immediate emotional whiplash. Dread. So much dread. Bad people. Enemies. Can't fight. Hide.

Pomni walked through the darkness, finding Shadowblade trembling against the back wall. "What's gotten into you? There are no enemies. We need to go. Knock it off with the mist."

Shadowblade obeyed, finding this feeling easy to ignore under orders. The mist stopped and they followed Pomni out.

Pomni mounted up and cringed as Jax climbed aboard. "God, I can't believe he's making us do this." She grumbles and has Shadowblade start walking out of the city.

"I'm not thrilled about it either, shark tooth, but your hubby promised me something nice in return for babysitting you."

"I don't need babysitting! And he's not my husband! I can barely stand him!"

Jax extended his neck to give her a mischievous grin face to face. "That's not what I saw on my way out the door. Oh, Pomni, Do Be Safe. You'll Be Out Of Radio Range, But You Know I'll Come Running If You Need Me." He mockingly fluttered his eyes at her.

She elbowed him hard in the gut. "If you don't want me shoving you off when we get airborne, you'll shut the fuck up."

"Fine, he's smitten and you're a bitch. Is that more accurate?" Jax rubbed his abdomen.

Pomni growled and had Shadowblade take off. She does her best to ignore the ick she felt as Jax reached around her with his extendable arms to hold onto the saddle handles.

The City of Circuits became a model of itself as they flew high into the air. The winds were calmer today, making things far smoother as Shadowblade found an air current to glide due east.

Jax silently admired the view. Flying was a new experience for him too. He shuddered just a little, looking down, and gripped the saddle tighter.

Pomni mentally reaches out to Shadowblade. There was still an underlying feeling of unease in the connection. She tried to push her own battle ready calm through. Shadowblade was resistant. She out her hand on Shadowblade's back. The physical touch warmed the connection. The feeling of calm was more accepted.

Barely an hour passed before Jax needed to talk again. The splendor of flight wore off fast. "Do you know what we're looking for? Your hubby couldn't say."

"HE'S NOT MY-ugh!! I don't know either. He just said there was something significant to Shadowblade at the City of Gears."

"We're doing all of this on a hunch?"

"Pretty much."

"Tap-dancing Christ."

"Shut the hell up, it's not like you had anything better to do."

"That's not the point. If we don't know what we're doing, and the city's as large as he says, we could be there for days. Sounds boring as fuck."

"He did mention to marionette infestation..."

"So we're either going to be bored to death or be torn apart by marionettes, what fun." Jax rolled his eyes so hard, they nearly popped out of their sockets.

"Welcome to my world."

Caine triangulated Shadowblade's position in his watch to the map. If they minimized any stops, they would be in the City of Gears after dusk. Not the best time to be arriving, but the fastest. He pocketed his watch and looked to Ragatha, who was nose deep in a book. "They're making good progress. And it doesn't look like Pomni has left Jax anywhere, so that's a good sign that they haven't killed each other yet."

Ragatha put her book down. "How do you keep track of us..?"

"Let me put it to you this way. If I've made something, I know where it is."

"Oh..." She didn't ask further. "I've been able to decipher some of the less common symbols used on the charm. While I was correct in saying that it was a suppression charm, it's a very particular suppression charm."

"Aren't they all?"

"Yes, every charm is unique, but when I say this one is very particular, I mean that it was assigned to a particular person. Those letters, the initials, I don't think those are someone's signature. I think those are related to the person the charm was meant to control."

"You're confident in saying a person? A soul?" Caine felt his stomach drop.

"Yes. The way the symbols are assorted on the charm, it's a contract. Whoever put their initials on the charm agreed to the terms of the person who created it. Though I can't say if it was done so willingly. My....the one whom I served before...used similar methods." Ragatha shifted in her chair and looked away.

"You needn't explain." Caine reassures. He takes our the core sample and hands it to her. "Give your thoughts on this when you have a chance. I need those charm shards back." He turns to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To test a theory."

Pomni focused silently ahead. If she stayed calm, Shadowblade would be calm. It would make the travel that much more bearable. Jax, on the other hand, was bored out of his mind and couldn't stand the silence.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

He waits only a second to ask again. "...how about now?" He smiled.

Pomni's grip tightened. "No."

"Are we there....yet?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"NO!!"

Jax held back a laugh. "You're too easy. Maybe that's why Caine likes you so much. Didn't take him for the type, but whatever floats his boat."

"What the FUCK are you implying??" She turned to glare at Jax.

"Wow, really gotta spell it out for you, huh? I'm calling you a wh-"

Pomni punched him so hard, he tumbled backwards off of Shadowblade. Shadowblade felt something grab their foot. They look down and back to see Jax hanging by one hand. They look back up at Pomni.

"Keep flying. If he falls, he's no longer our problem."

Shadowblade snorted, feeling Pomni's rage.

Jax extended his arms to reach up and grab into the seams of Shadowblade's armor. He hoisted himself back up to the saddle and settled behind Pomni. "I can add sensitive to the list." He called it quits for the time being, she definitely dented a few of his ribs with that hit. He took steady breaths through the pain.

Caine locked himself in his workshop and set the charm pieces on a small table with a sigil. He lights the half melted candles and puts both hands on symbols on either side of the sigil. He takes a deep breath and focuses.

Blue energy travels from his heart, down his arms, and to the table. The sigil lights up and the pieces of the charm hover an inch off the table. He mutters ritualisticly under his breath, willing the pieces to be whole again. The electric blue energy shocks the pieces one by one, heating and melting the jagged edges. The pieces fit together and seal the cracks. The reformed charm clatters to the table as he releases it, feeling a little light headed.

"Okay...step one wasn't too hard." He braced himself. "Now....who made you?" He focused again, using his soul energy to tap into the void. He heard faint whispers all around him. The symbols on the charm glow. One whispered voice stands out. A middle aged male voice comes from the charm.

"I....am the Master...."

Caine rolled his eyes. Of course someone who made this kind of charm would call themselves that. He has to stay focused, he could only hold this for so long. "What is the purpose of your charm?"

".... control...."

Fuck. He already knew that. Sweat rolled down his head as he concentrated. "Who is SB?"

"....my greatest creation..."

"No, WHO is SB? Is it a name?"

"...yes, the one who served me..."

"Vague bastard." Caine could barely hold the connection. "Is SB a puppet?"

"...my perfect puppet...obedient and powerful...the soul served without question..."

Caine could feel his hold on the voice slipping. He forced himself to keep going. "HOW? Where is the D.I.E??"

"...within..."

Caine vision blurred with exhaustion. "Are there...others...?"

"...yes...my traitorous son..."

"Where....where...." Caine collapsed. The Master's voice whispered as darkness took him.

"...where it all began..."

The sun shone its last as the City of Gears was finally in sight. Massive warehouses and factories towered over all other buildings. The city was ravaged by time and being reclaimed by nature, as the forest on the south side slowly intruded more than half the city.

Shadowblade flew low and made a better landing this time. At least they didn't fall forward on their face. Shadowblade and their passengers stayed alert as they entered the city. It was quiet. Despite being surrounded by trees, no birds sang. The wind was still. They wandered the silent streets aimlessly.

"I think Caine's info is a bit out of date. There's no one here." Jax said.

"Keep your voice down. This place shouldn't be this quiet with the amount of nature here." Pomni's whole body prickled on high alert. Her instincts told her to look up. She did just in time to see a wolf like pouncing from the second story of a broken building. She didn't have time to warn the others. She rolled and slid off Shadowblade as the wolf landed where she had been.

Jax jumped back and slid off the other side. Shadowblade felt the claws of the wolf in their back and bucked it off. More wolves attacked. Pomni dodged one and drew her blade. Jax activated his hammer and swung at a charging wolf, sending it into a wall.

They were surrounded by a dozen wolf sized and shaped marionettes snarling at them.

"Seekers!" Pomni shouted. Seekers were used to track and kill puppets. They tore their prey apart without mercy. As it was getting dark, Pomni put on her mask. Her eyes glowed with Shadowblade's as they stared down their opponents. Shadowblade roared, shaking dust from the ruined buildings. The ungraded blades on their wings and Pomni's sword glowed with energy.

The seekers weren't intimidated and attacked. Pomni put her sword through the mouth of one and she avoided another. She rolled over the back of the one she killed and kicked the next seeker that lunged. Shadowblade sliced two seekers in half with one swipe and whipped ther tail around to the ones behind them.

Jax limbo-ed under the swinging spiked tail and sprang himself into the air to bring his hammer down on one seeker, caving it's body in. He moved quickly to the next, spinning his hammer and launching a seeker into a ruined building.

Pomni got pinned by a seeker, she held it back with her sword in it's maw. It snapped and clawed wildly until Shadowblade chomped down on it's body and threw it away from her. She got to her feet and ran under Shadowblade to get to the seeks attacking on the other side by Jax. She cut through one that was about to pounce.

Jax swung around, saw Pomni and changed trajectory at the last second. He threw his hammer, crushing a seeker's face in.

Shadowblade brought their heavy tail down on one seeker and swung at another. Two jumped on Shadowblade's back and they reared.

"Shadowblade! Roll over!!" Pomni commanded.

Shadowblade did so, crushing the seekers under their bodyweight. Jax laughed, grabbed his hammer and killed another seeker. "Play dead!" He couldn't help himself.

The one remaining aimed for Pomni. It tried fainting left but Pomni was too quick. She decapitated it as it lunged. No other marionettes in sight, they caught their breath.

Jax was in a fit of giggles. "Roll over? Really?"

"What else was I going to say?? Stand there a take it!?"

Jax howled with laughter. "No...no, it isn't that. It's the basic bitch pet command shout during battle. You couldn't call it something else?"

"Like what, smartass?"

"Kill the passenger?" He really didn't have a clever retort, he just thought it was funny.

"God, you're insufferable."

Shadowblade was looking all around for any more signs of danger when they spotted a street corner with small shops. Windows ruined and signs faded, they were still recognizable as a market. Another flash. Shadowblade was short, maybe Pomni's height, walking down the street. The market was alive with people going to a fro. The scent of fresh bread and gardens flowers filled the air.

Shadowblade walked away from Pomni and Jax, following the vision. They were looking through windows at beautifully crafted jewelry and dresses but moving on. The went to a book shop on the corner. The vision fades to reveal a destroyed corner building. The books long destroyed.

"Hey...your beast is walking away."

"Huh? Shadowblade, where are you going? Get back here, we need to stick together." Pomni commanded but Shadowblade didn't obey. They kept walking down the ruins market street. "What the..?"

"Pffff, even your pet if sick of you."

"Fuck off." She moves to follow Shadowblade. "They've never ignored an order before."

Jax followed behind, keeping an eye out for more seekers. His own eyes glowed softly in the unlit city. He didn't need goggles to see in the dark.

Shadowblade looked down a desolate street past the market. A poster on the wall of a business stood out to them. It was barely legible, but it was an ad for a circus. A vision showed the poster it's full glory, they've walked by it many times. It was a landmark for their commute. Moving on, the businesses gave way to town houses and suburban homes. Once large and beautiful homes reduced to rubble.

A polite knock rattled Caine's workshop door. "Caine? I have some information on those crystal shards you gave me. ...Caine?"

"Oh dear, maybe he fell asleep. Here, let me help." One of Gangle's ribbons slithered under the door and reached the lock on the inside.

The ladies see Caine on his side in front of his charm table and rush to him. "Caine??" Ragatha checked his heart, he was still alive. "Caine!"

He stirred a a little. "Rag...the..." He lifted his hand to point at the charm on the table and passed back out.

"Oh my god, what did you do to yourself? Gangle?"

"On it." She wrapped her ribbons around Caine, easily lifting and carrying him out of the room.

Ragatha grabbed the charm, impressed to find it in one piece, and followed Gangle. "This must have been an incredibly powerful charm for him to use so much energy to pass out."

"Will he be okay?" Gangle asked worriedly.

"He'll be fine, he just needs rest. Take him to his room." Ragatha went back to the library to study the reformed charm in greater detail.

Shadowblade stopped in front of a half collapsed mansion. They stared as a vision of walking through gate entered their mind. They couldn't walk on the grass, no matter how much they wanted to feel it between their toes. They had to take the groceries to the kitchen so the cooks could ready supper for ....for someone. Someone powerful.

"Shadowblade?" Pomni asked quietly. She could feel confusion and deja vu through the connection. "Is this what we came for?" She pointed to the large ruined house.

Shadowblade didn't answer. They didn't know. They stepped over the low ruined wall and inspected the house closer. Three floors of grandeur, once upon a time, now a darkened shell. They could see the grand stairway through the huge hole in the wall, spiraling up all three floors. They went up and down those stairs many times. Lots of work to do. Always an errand. Always a chore.

Jax and Pomni climbed through the rubble to investigate the first floor. Jax aimlessly milled about for any interesting trinkets, but Pomni made a b-line for any intact rooms. She searched for evidence of who once lived here but the ravages of time and war took most everything that once existed in the homestead.

Jax stepped on a losse floorboard and fell through. Shadowblade's bright eyes found the hole he made a peered down. Pomni heard the crash and rushed over. "Hey! You alive?"

"Yes." Jax rubbed his ass. It wasn't a far fall, but it still hurt.

"Shit. I mean, good." Pomni smirked.

"Fuck you."

"Get in line. What's down there?"

"Uh...a basement? Old storage. A few wine racks. Ooh, some of them still have full bottles. Lucky day!"

"You're sharing that!"

"Then get down here and collect your own, lazy ass!"

Pomni jumped down and Shadowblade demolished the part of the house blocking them from entering. They clawed and chewed at the floor to expose a large portion of the basement. As Pomni and Jax bickered over bottles, Shadowblade focused on one corner in particular. A vision showed them being down in the basement to put away some preserved food. A figure in the dark was in the corner reaching for something in the ground. Something heavy closed shut. The figure yelled at them.

Shadowblade clawed the ground and they came in contact with something heavy and metal. They dug up a large ancient safe.

"OH SHIT! Now we're talking!" Jax excitedly examines the safe. He figures the locking mechanism is far rusted in place and the only way into it, is with a really big hammer. He brings his hammer down several times until the safe warped and the door didn't fit in the frame. Much to his disappointment, there were no treasures inside. Only papers. He goes back to the wine racks.

Pomni sifted through the papers. There was a lot of boring stuff, banknotes and contracts and deeds and bills of sale, but... There was also a journal. She opened it to find it full of gibberish. Backwards and mixed writing that made no sense.

Shadowblade could just make out the tiny writing. It didn't make sense to them either, but the journal itself looked important. They leaned their head down to press the journal towards Pomni, encouraging her to keep it.

Pomni looked up with an arched brow. "This? ...alright."

She dug around a bit more and an envelope marked "confidential" piqued her interest. Inside was a letter, addressed to no one.

Sir,

The project has proven successful.

The subject is integrated.

On your order, activation protocol Warshroud is a go.

"War shroud?" Pomni said our loud and Shadowblade froze.

Visions of being taken. Beaten. Hurt. Scared. Men talking. WARSHROUD.

Pomni felt all of it. This was the right path. There was no address but their was a symbol of a hammer and pickaxe on the stationary. She recognized that symbol from one of the factories they passed on their way in. "Hey, numbnuts, we're moving on." She climbed up Shadowblade's head and laid a comforting hand on them as Jax finished stuffing wine bottles into his bag. He extended his arm to grab shadowblade's shoulder and hoisted himself up.

Pomni steered Shadowblade to the factory. Massive bay doors laid on the ground, leaving an entrance large enough for Shadowblade. The inside was as ruined as the rest of the city. Nothing of interest remained intact.

Shadowblade spotted another set of large doors. These, they recognize. A vision of being barely conscious. Restrained. Helpless. The heavy metal doors sealed any escape. Shadowblade trembled. They didn't want to take another step.

"What is this place?" Jax asked, looking around.

"I'm not sure. Shadowblade, we're here because Caine believes there are answers to what- er, who? You are. He's a crackpot, but a smart crackpot. Can you keep going?"

Shadowblade shook in place, refusing to move.

"... alright." Pomni slid off and went to the doors herself. "Come on, Jax. We'll have a look around ourselves. Shadowblade can wait up here."

Jax left his bag hooked to the saddle and dismounted to go with Pomni. "Another dusty old basement, this place is just full of wonder." He sighed.

Down below was more destroyed than above. Hardly anything was recognizable as equipment. Giant smashed tubes held remnants of crystals of various colors. Claw marks and old burns charged the walls and floor.

"Looks like one of their projects backfired." Pomni commented as she stepped over some rubble.

"Shadowblade?"

"I don't know. There's a lot i don't know, but....looking at all of this, this isn't a normal marionette production facility. That's for damn sure."

Shadowblade felt a crack. A glacial popping sound from within. The crystal within their core broke further. More visions came. War was declared! Puppet uprising! A mother's touch. A handsome stranger. Debt. Famine. Disease. Death. Work in the city. Suffering. Gold light. Blinding. Obey. OBEY! Shadowblade roared in confusion and pain. Their cries echoed through the factory.

Jax and Pomni stiffened as they heard Shadowblade above. A loud mechanical whirring in the rubble beside them signaled something was powering on. Two intensely bright purple lights shone and rose high above them. In the dark, both could just make out the silhouette of a beast. A beast twice the size of Shadowblade.

Pomni and Jax bolted for the exit, sprinting back out through the facility doors. The purple lights finding them as they run. Monstrous booming announced the creature's pursuit.

Shadowblade felt the floor quake and got their senses about them as Pomni and Jax came running out, purple light right behind them.

Jax gave Pomni a boost throw onto Shadowblade and grabbed onto the saddle himself. Pomni whistled for Shadowblade to run.

Shadowblade got just a glimpse of the beast after them. A huge break-like maw snapping at them. They got outside and made for wider streets to attempt take off.

The roof to the factory exploded. Enormous silver wings lifted the beast into the air as it urgently broke free to pursue its prey. It's body gleamed in the moonlight, this beast was never meant to hide. It dove as Shadowblade finally found enough space to spread their own wings.

Without enough forward momentum to get away, Pomni whistled for Shadowblade to halt. They dropped to the ground and skidded as the silver beast landed hard in front of them, demolishing several buildings. Outside and up close they could see that this creature was also quadrupedal. It's silver steel body glowed with purple energy from every crack in the armor. The wings were on its back, giving it all four legs to fight with in the air. The head and front legs were bird-like and heavily armored, talons as long as Pomni was tall. The back end of the body was like a lion, the tail long and thin with a bladed end.

For the half second the creature was down Pomni mentally steeled herself for battle. Shadowblade, confused and scared, found comfort in Pomni's resolve. Shadowblade lunged, doing for the beast's neck. Pomni jumped from Shadowblade to the silver beast and clamped her mechanical hand onto it's face plates. Jax also jumped, going as high as he could and activating the spikes to bring his hammer down hard on the beast's head.

Shadowblade tried to hold the beast in place, clawing at it's chest and holding tight to it's neck. Jax's hammer comes down and barely makes a dent. He practically bounces off and lands hard below the brawling beasts. Pomni tried jamming her sword into the beast's eye but her sword doesn't pierce the optic at all, she just annoys it.

The beast shoves back against Shadowblade, pushing them away and shaking off Pomni. The beast's claws left deep marks in Shadowblade's shoulders. Shadowblade roared and the beast roared back. The talons and beak of the beast glowed purple, like Shadowblade's wing blades. Shadowblade was already glowing and went for the slash attack. The beast whipped it's tail, having farther reach, forcing Shadowblade to doge and abandon their attack.

Pomni's blade glowed brightly and she went for a back leg. The energy from her blade made a small cut into the heel. "JAX!! USE ENERGY!!"

Jax was way ahead of her. As the beast turned to attack Pomni, his hammer lit up with green energy. He ran up Shadowblade's tail and back to spring himself up and come down between the beast's shoulder blades. His hammer did damage this time. A lot of it. The silver armor split and broke around the wing joints. The beast roared and reared to remove Jax. Shadowblade slashed a deep cut along the side of the beast as it went up. Shadowblade kept themself between the beast and Pomni.

Pomni wasn't having that. She used her grapple to grab the beast and reel herself to it's back, where she dragged her energized sword up the beast's front leg. Shadowblade tore at the beast's throat again, removing armor by the mouthful. Jax dodged the beast's blades tail and smashed at the beast's spine.

The beast's purple eyes brightened and it tore it's claws into Shadowblade, it lifted them off the ground and suplexed the lot of them into a row of buildings. Pomni's and Jax barely got off the back in time as everything came crashing down.

Finally being free of the 3v1, the beast took off for the arial advantage. It circled around and aimed for the largest target, diving for Shadowblade's exposed belly.

Shadowblade was discombobulated. They lost track of Pomni. Their large wings were stuck under rubble. All they could do was roar in defense as the beast came down.

But the beast never came. A wall of green ice flew up out of the ground and blocked the attack. The wall crumbled but the beast was taken off guard and missed, giving Shadowblade enough time to get up.

Jax huffed against a brick wall with his hand out. He hadn't had to make something that big in a long time, it took a bit out of him. Pomni patted Jax on the shoulder as she sprinted passed to get to Shadowblade. "You owe me!!" He shouted after her.

Pomni mounted as Shadowblade righted themself. "Come on!! Let's show this mother fucker exactly who he's dealing with!!"

Shadowblade roared and took off as fast as they could. Finally airborne, they circled with the beast. Back and gold streaked across the sky opposing silver and purple. Shadowblade went on the offensive, aiming to slash at the beast as they flew by at top speed. The beast rolled and slashed them instead, with it's talons. Shadowblade want deterred. They went again, this time making the slash. Them again. And again. Being lighter and faster, Shadowblade made several successful attacks.

The beast roared with fury and opened its maw wide. Purple energy gathered between its jaws.

"What the fuck..?" Pomni muttered.

A wide beam of energy blasted out from the beast. Shadowblade narrowly escaped it hitting their body, but one of their wings was partially clipped.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?!?" Pomni steered Shadowblade away, dodging another fly by. "We need to disappear!" She pulled up and Shadowblade flew into the clouds, mist pouring from their body.

The beast followed, being blinded the moment they flew into the thick shroud. For a moment, the beast hovered in place. Then, a slicing blade cut them from the dark. Their tail fell to the city below. The beast roared and charged their energy weapon again, but before they could fire, a golden razor X flew at them and they had to abort. The beast flew above the clouds and mist, circling and searching.

Shadowblade came flying straight up, and sliced one of it's wings in half. The beast plummeted. It smacked into a factory chimney before crashing through an warehouse roof and to the ground.

Jax saw the fall and ran to catch up, his quick feet moving even faster with green energy.

Shadowblade didn't give the best the chance to get up. They came barreling down through the broken roof and slammed the beast with their powerful front claws. Purple fluid went flying. The silver beast thrashed wildly, trying to take off on one wing. Shadowblade couldn't keep it down, the larger beast kicked them off and charged. Shadowblade barely got Pomni out do the way before the beast slammed into them. Pomni was thrown, recovered and transformed their hand to fire at the open wounds on the beast's body. The gapping wounds proved to be easy targets, every shot found in opening and blew them even wider.

The beast ignores Pomni, focusing all of its hatred onto Shadowblade. It's talon's cut and slash into the armor, getting deep and breaking vital systems. Shadowblade fought back, using their tail to stab the beast, but it was unrelenting. That it opened it's maw again. A terrible buildup of purple energy formed right in front of Shadowblade's face.

"NO!!!" Pomni ran out of shots and hacked at the beast's back leg. She wasn't doing anywhere near as much damage as she wanted to, not deterring the beast in the slightest. "FUCK YOU!! OVER HERE!!" She stabbed it full on in the leg, no reaction.

As the beast was about to fire, Jax comes in out of nowhere, his hammer encased in green ice, and slams the beast right in the back of the mouth. The collision of the green and purple energy causes a massive explosion in the beast's throat.

There is a hush as the smoke clears. Everyone is down. The silver beast no longer had a head. It's body torn, purple blood soaking the floor. Pomni, the furthest from the explosion, rises first. She limps over to Shadowblade, whose eyes are inactive. "Hey...wake up. We won..." She put her hand on Shadowblade's face.

She looked around. "Jax..?" She sees him on his side, facing away from her. She limps to him and carefully rolls him on his back. She puts her hand over his heart, he's still active. A sigh of real relief escapes her.

Shadowblade stirs. Heavy damaged but alive. They slowly crawl over to the two smaller puppets and curl their big body protectively around them.

"It's okay...it's dead. You did good." Pomni gave a small smile and Shadowblade blinked slowly back.

Jax woke with a loud groan. "God...damn! This is why I hate using energy. Gives me an awful fucking headache."

Pomni slapped Jax on the chest. "You crazy bastard! You could have died!"

Jax groaned and laughed. "But it was awesome, wasn't it?"

"...yeah, it was." She checked her saddle bag for supplies and saw wine leaking from Jax's bag. She peeked inside to see only one surviving bottle. She took it and handed it to him as she performed some basic puppet first aid. "You've earned that."

Jax broke the neck of the bottle and poured some in his mouth before offering to Pomni.

Pomni accepted and saluted Jax.

Shadowblade watched as long as they could before exhaustion claimed them. As they powered down, the darkness that would normally greet them became bright and other worldy. For the first time in their mechanical life, Shadowblade dreamed.

~~~

To be continued...

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanfiction #tadc pomni #tadc caine #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #tadc gangle #tadc kinger #tadc zooble #tadc harlequin au #harlequin au #caine x pomni #pomni x caine #oc

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 2 years ago

Note

Is könig the type of guy to put a picture of sneaky in his wallet?

Because I feel like he is🧍🏻‍♀️

After the whole removing his shirt fiansco it might as well be a spicy-but-not-too-spicy-because-he-is-protective-like-that picture yk?

Ok so I know you've literally said that it could be something spicy *right* there, but for the sake of this super cute idea we're getting something fluffy ✨ with a hint of Sneak being naughty

You could hardly believe your luck. It was incredible, but you'd managed to find a day that both you and König were free after work and the rest of your team were too busy to question your absence from base. Price was dealing with something that required he and Gaz out of the country and Ghost and Soap were sent off on a mission elsewhere. None of them could track your movements and no one else was nosy enough to bother.

That left you and König time to wander into the city together, riding the bus like a couple of teenage runaways giggling to yourself in the stuffy shuttle, uncaring of the few nicotine addled people that rode with you. König leaned against the window and held you close to his chest, stroking your arm as he filled you in on the team’s antics. Apparently, despite heavily warning the 141 off of messing with their least favourite KorTac operator, the shits had decided to go ahead and do it anyway.

“MacTavish tried to jump out at me the other day, but I heard him blabbing to Ghost about it from way down the hall, so unfortunately for him it didn’t work! After that Price had tried to give me a telling off, but I ignored him of course, at which point I get assaulted by Ghost and Garrick when I walk out and-“

“Assaulted?” you groaned, cutting him off as he was in the midst of telling you.

Ghost had informed you that he’d had a polite word, but neglected to mention any kind of ‘assault’. At the time, you’d taken his lack of bloody knuckles to be a good sign, though according to sharp bitter tones in your lover’s voice - that wasn’t the case. You could only imagine what Ghost had done to König in the heat of his anger.

“He pinned me against the wall and practically strangled me, talking all this nonsense about ‘if you don’t leave Sneaky alone, you’ll find more embedded in that back of yours than nails’ as if he’s capable of that,” König snorted.

“König that’s awful!” you moaned, wrapping your hand around his arm.

“What was awful was the punch to the gut I gave him,” he said with a grin. “He let me go pretty quick after that.”

“He just let you go? Just like that?”

“Well, I might’ve run from him and his little companion, but that’s neither here nor there,” he said with a chuckle.

A whoosh of laughter burst free before you could stop it, but nevertheless you’d slapped König’s chest playfully and told him not to do stuff like that. It wasn’t worth riling Ghost up any more than he already was, he could be quite formidable when he felt slighted and the last thing you wanted was permanent damage on behalf of your so called ‘protection’.

Then, after the long winding journey had rolled to a close, you stepped out into town and grabbed something quick to eat. At which point you’d demanded to trawl the streets in search of a decent bar, looking for somewhere quiet to grab a cocktail. It was important you not go anywhere too crowded, but at the same time you knew that most of the old fashioned quiet places that König had pointed to were unlikely to make you anything nice if at all under the basis that cocktails ‘weren’t real drinks’.

Eventually, after a lot of discussion, sore feet from all the walking around, and whining on your part, you agreed to venture into a quirky little place with ocean themed decorations, ironically called ‘the dive bar’, that had a few customers and a relaxing vibe. The inside was lit by blue neon and dim yellow halogen bulbs and all the tables were made from old wood, like something off of a ship’s hull. It was cheesy, but it did a great Daiquiri and most importantly König wasn’t crawling out of his skin with crowd anxiety.

“I like this place,” you’d declared, looking around at the kitschy décor while you sipped your fruity drink. “It’s cosy.”

“It’s not so bad I suppose,” König replied, picking at the dewy label on his beer bottle.

“Oh c’mon, admit it, it’s fun!”

“If you think pirate decorations and hardly being able to see is fun,” he shrugged. “Then yes. Very fun.”

“Don’t be a spoil sport! Plus look, they have pool over there and foosball and… oh my god a photobooth!”

He groaned at that and narrowed his eyes, giving you a look as if to say not in a million years.

However, never one to deny you, he’d dutifully marched over for a game of pool (which you’d let him win of course, just to butter him up a little) and watched as he smiled victoriously when he’d potted the black ball. Though, he wasn’t so easily convinced into your next suggestion. Apparently getting König into a photobooth was harder than any other feat you’d accomplished yet.

“Those eyes won’t work on me,” he shrugged, taking a gratuitous sip of his beer. “I’m not falling for it.”

“But…pleeeeaaasseeeee,” you whined, dragging out each letter like it was molasses pouring from a tin.

“In case you’ve forgotten I can’t have pictures of my face floating around, Sneaky, you know this.”

“But you can put on your neck warmer!”

“I don’t have it,” he sniffed.

“Liar! You always keep it in your back pocket if you’re not wearing it,” you challenged, poking at his chest.

“Been staring at my arse much, hm?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but nevertheless stood your ground. You were determined, you weren’t going to let him change the subject. You were high on the light buzz of overly sweet alcohol and you desperately wanted something to hold onto when you couldn’t have him near.

“You know I have been,” you winked, recovering quickly and embracing him. “And look – I’m right.”

He growled out and snatched the cloth from your hands, his eyes narrowing down at your ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ face. If you were anyone else, you’d be dead or held up by one of the decorative nets on the ceiling, but by virtue of being you, you were allowed to remain standing. Hell couldn’t beat the heat firing from his eyes, but even despite that, he broke and started to put the neck warmer on.

“You’re paying.”

You could hardly believe it, but you weren’t going to waste time standing there contemplating where the depths of König’s devotion lay. You followed him into the booth and planted yourself on his lap, excitedly slotting the coins into the machine, listening to them rattle, watching as the screen flashed and presented you with your options. Apparently you could choose a range of different filters and frames, though, ever a fan of the classics, you opted to go for a black and white filter and no frame.

“Look happy, grumpy man,” you chastised, looking over at him while preparing for your first photo and fixing your hair.

“This is me happy.”

“Don’t seem to recall you looking like that in the hotel room,” you whispered, brushing your lips against the side of his neck. "And I seem to remember you were very happy then."

The first photo flashed and you sniggered as you saw it dissolve into view, you looking sultry and pleased with yourself while König looked flustered under the mask. That one was a keeper for sure, no matter the protests that he made. He didn’t have much of a chance to put it down though. In a matter of seconds the timer was counting down again and you tried to do a silly pose, sticking up peace signs until König broke you by tickling your side.

“Hey! That’s not fair,” you said, half giggling half groaning.

“You got me, so I got you. Fairs fair, Sneaky,” he chuckled.

“You’re such a meanie!”

“Yeah, and you love it,” he said, his eyes glinting with a smile. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have stuck around this long.”

The third and final photo was taken when you were looking into each other’s eyes, locked in a gaze that betrayed the sickly lovebirds you were underneath all the playfighting and cool exteriors you both tried to preserve. Neither of you said a word as it came and went on the display, both admiring how the other looked, stuck in your adoring silence.

Though soon the screen went dark and König sighed, petting your thigh so you’d stand from his lap. You obliged and wandered out, going to fetch your paper strip of photos when you were beat to your prize. König snatched them first and held them up at a height, inspecting them again while you jumped and screeched like a Tasmanian devil.

“Hey! I paid for those,” you growled, trying to grip onto his shoulders for leverage.

“Maybe so, but I’m afraid I have to confiscate them,” he said in a fake somber tone, easily batting your hands off of him like a kitten. “They’re classified, you don’t have the clearance for them.”

“But they’re mine!” you whined.

“Mine now,” he grinned, slipping his temporary mask down so that he could stick his tongue out.

You huffed, but eventually you vowed to steal them later, not missing König sticking them in his wallet and making sure to secret it away in his front pockets away from your sneaking reach. You would get those photos somehow, someway, you’d told him. His bullshit arm span couldn’t protect him forever!

#könig #a rocky start #a Rocky oneshot

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noxgold · 5 months ago

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The Pride of S.T.A.R.S.

Raccoon City has declared that it was holding its first ever Pride Parade, and a group of friends decide to go together. Chris/Albert, minor Claire/Jill & Rita/Forest - Rated T. AO3 link

Chris resisted the urge to squirm in place as Claire carefully brushed the make-up over his cheeks, leaving stripes of purple behind as she went. It was the last finishing touch before she was done, and he had to admit, he was antsy to get going. Raccoon City had declared that it was holding its first ever Pride Parade, and it hadn't taken Jill long to convince them to go together.

“All done!” Claire's cheerful chirp had him grinning back, careful not to smudge the flag she had etched across each cheekbone in glittery eyeshadow. His little sister was dressed down due to the June heat in dark blue jean shorts, a purple tank top bedazzled with a pink glittery heart, and her hair tied back in a messy bun with a bisexual flag bandanna keeping any stray wisps back off her face.

Gesturing for Chris to go check himself out in the hallway mirror, Claire ducked past to grab her bag and put on her shoes by the door. The sight of worn black jeans and his grey FREE BEAR HUGS shirt was familiar, along with the rainbow beaded necklace. But what caught and held his eyes were the differing flags on each cheek. On his left cheek soared the six stripes of the rainbow flag, as bright and joyous as any real rainbow. But what really held him was his right cheekbone, four defiant bands of black, grey, white, and purple shimmering in the hallway light.

That was him. His flags, the confirmation that he belonged, that there was more than just him that felt this way. As he stood there, caught by the mirror, Claire quietly approached him, hand slipped into his to offer a gentle squeeze. “Are you ready to go?”

Casting one long lingering look at his reflection, Chris nodded, still holding his sister’s hand in his. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Raccoon Street was a riot of noise and colour, voices singing and chanting as the parade slowly marched on. They had managed to find a parking spot a few streets over, and were now hovering near the corner of Filbert Street across from the zoo as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive.

Peering over the heads of the crowd, Chris squinted through the sunlight for any sign of his friends as he tapped his fingers against his jeans. The parade was going to start in less than 20 minutes but the place was already swarmed, and he had already given out more hugs than he could count. Apparently, free bear hugs were a siren song none could ignore.

“Hey, Claire Cakes! Over here!”

Head turning at the familiar sound of Jill’s voice calling to his sister, laughter spilled out at the sight of Jill elbowing her way through the crowd, Rebecca tagging closely behind. Both of them had somehow managed to find a stand selling slushies and hotdogs, with Jill dual-wielding the food in each hand.

Jill had somehow managed to scrounge up a lesbian flag temporary tattoo for her bicep and a tank top reading Rock Paper Scissors in shades of pink, orange, and red, which Chris didn’t quite get but judging from Jill’s smirk, he very much didn’t want to ask. Behind her, Rebecca was decked out in a short blue dress decorated in bright pink and yellow flowers, along with a matching sun hat with a little pansexual flag sticking out of it.

Rebecca's smile was glowing as she ducked around Jill, glitter sprinkled across her cheekbones like freckles. “Free Bear Hugs? Don't mind if I do.” Passing her neon pink slushie off to Claire, it only took a simple raise of her arms for Chris to sweep her up into a hug. Rebecca’s laugh was like the ringing of bells in his ears, her hands clutching his shoulders as he gave in to the urge to pick her up and squish her in his arms. Offering her one last squeeze before gently dropping her back down on her feet, Chris’ answering grin was wide enough to make his cheeks ache.

As soon as Rebecca was clear, Jill was bounding forwards, handing her hotdogs off to Claire with a “Oh, me next! Hold this for me, babe,” before launching herself forwards into Chris’ arms. The force had him moving with the momentum, using it to whip Jill around in a dizzying spin as she cackled madly in his arms.

He wasn’t sure which of them were more dizzy when he finally set her down, Jill stumbling for a moment before turning back to Claire to retrieve her food. Only to find his sister with her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk’s, and one of the hotdogs with a significant bite missing from it. “My hotdog! Treason! Betrayal!”

Claire’s eyes sparkled with laughter as she ducked away from the swatting hands of Jill, furiously chewing through her pilfered snack. “You're not meant to keep eating it! Claire!”

“You would think by now, she would know better than to hand food to a Redfield and expect to get it back.”

The quietly amused voice from behind him had Chris jumping, spinning on his heel away from the sight of Jill chasing around her gleeful girlfriend. “Captain!”

His captain was dressed in his ever present sunglasses, having donned casual slacks and a button up shirt for the event, the only concession to the heat were the sleeves rolled up to his biceps. The only sign that Albert even knew he was at a pride festival were the woven cuffs wrapped around each wrist. The one on his right side was laced in the same shade of blue yellow and pink as Rebecca's dress, while one on his right boasted shades of black, grey, white, and two differing hues of green, the aromantic to Chris’ asexual.

The responding glance was gently chiding, a pale hand gesturing out at the people clustering around them. “I'm not on duty today, Christopher.”

“Albert.” The man’s name was sweet as honey on his lips, a litany of unspoken confessions. There had always been respect and admiration between them, but recently something soft and tender had nestled behind Chris’ ribs. A feeling unnamed and unsure of its welcome. He had never felt this way before for anyone, and struggled to explain exactly the hows and the whys. Only that being around Albert made him happy.

He had never found the courage to confront it, to express to Albert his interest, unsure that they would even be compatible romantically or sexually. Sex had never been an interest of his, even during puberty when he figured out that he only thought about other men when the topic came up. He never understood the attraction or the way his peers had spoken about the things they wanted to do with each other. Whenever he thought about touch, it always came back to the idea of snuggling on the couch and exchanging kisses, nothing more. Chris only ever wanted the romance of a partner, but now it was clear that Albert didn’t. Was there even a chance?

But if he never tried, there was no chance at all.

Jill’s whoop of victory washed over him as she paraded past, Claire swept up in her arms and still holding on to that last hotdog for dear life. At some point Marvin, Rita, and Forest had finally joined them, a gay flag wrapped around Marvin’s shoulders like a cape. Rita’s short hair had been coloured in shades of blue, pink, and purple to match her skirt, while Forest stood nearby in support of his girlfriend as they laughed at the sight.

All the sights and sounds sweeping around him like a summer storm, yet all Chris could focus on was Albert. Rebecca was calling for them as the parade was starting, and he should say something, yet his brain wouldn’t work, and his mouth couldn’t move, and,

Oh.

Albert’s lips were warm against his, soft yet firm. A hand cupping his cheek to hold him still, thumb brushing against the purple streaks as Albert slightly pulled away with a quirk of his smile. “I can hear your brain overheating, Chris.”

His poor aforementioned brain seemed to finally get with the program, churning out enough words for them to get tangled on his tongue in the confusion. “You- I-?.”

Albert’s chuckle made his breath catch, offering one last stroke of his cheek before finally stepping back. “You’re not as discreet as you thought you were. I’ve been interested in you for awhile but you seemed oblivious to my attention. So I decided to go with a more overt plan of attack.”

Chris mentally scrambled through his memories, hunting for any signs that he could have missed that Albert was actually interested in him that way. “Really?”

“Really. Now, I believe we should catch up with our friends and prevent poor Marvin from being swarmed. And afterwards, you and I can return to my place and discuss how this could work in depth. Okay?”

Right, yeah. They can do that. Have a responsible discussion like adults about wants and boundaries. But for now, all Chris had to do was accept Albert’s hand and follow him once more into the breach. “Yes, Captain.”

#Chris Redfield #Albert Wesker #Chrisker #Claire Redfield #Jill Valentine #Red Valentine #Rebecca Chambers #Resident Evil #Nox writes #Rita Phillips #Forest Speyer #Marvin Branagh

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ninjagirlstar5 · 6 months ago

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I love it when the wheel lands on a character and gives them a drastically different talent from their original counterpart. Cause here we have Emma as the Ultimate Firefighter!

This one was interesting to tackle cause Emma is a pretty feminine person, but has a swapped talent that has a lot of dress codes and regulations for safety reasons as being a firefighter is quite dangerous. And it turns out through my brief research, Emma's OG design goes against a lot of regulations for firefighters: you can't wear giant earrings but you can wear tiny stud ones or very small hoop earrings, you're not allowed to wear makeup, if you're going to keep your hair long, you have to tie it back (and it's recommended to put it in a braid-bun or a ponytail), contact lenses are prohibited, and I had to try and tie in the firefighter uniform with how Emma dresses in her OG design. So here's what I came up with for Emma: I tied her long wavy hair back into a hair bun, she can't wear contact lenses anymore so her eyes are no longer aquamarine but are instead her real gray eyes, her round earrings were too big and hung from her eyes so they had to be changed to smaller stud ones, and since she wore a coat in her OG design, I decided that she'd have her jacket on her instead of being loose around her waist like Shinji's (although his looked like a one-piece suit in his sprite). I removed her makeup, gave her a shirt underneath her uniform, gave her pants and boots fitting for said uniform, and some fire-resistant gloves, not only as part of her uniform but also to...well, hide some certain scars that she wouldn't dare show to anyone unless it's someone she trusts. Just in case, you know? Her hair gets to remain blonde, though, since you are allowed to dye it but only a natural color...Which doesn't mean much when you live in an anime world like Danganronpa where hair and eye color can range from black to white to literally neon green, but hey. Regulations are regulations. I gave her uniform a blue, yellow, black and gray color palette with dashes of dark red on her boots and she is done.

Next up is Sora!

So, in Emma's backstory, she's living in poverty, her mom is basically out of her life and her sperm donor of a father is the worst EVER. That's still the same. However, when Utsuro blessed her with Divine Luck, on her return home after being forced to steal alcohol for her shitty father, she sees that her own house had caught on fire while she was away. She would later find out through the authorities that the fire happened due to a stray cigarette landing on some trash and the dirty environment went in flames in the blink of an eye. Two witnesses, who were a foreign couple from England, just so happened to see this and called the fire department but by the time they arrived, the only occupant inside the house had already died. Emma is...relieved that she will NEVER have to see her father again, but at the same time, she had NO idea where to go and has essentially became an orphan in a blink of an eye. However, that concern is quickly washed away as the two witnesses approached her and asked if she was alright, which is when she broke down crying. Realizing that she was in a horrible condition, the couple decided then and there to take her under their wing and adopted her. While living with them, she finds out that her adoptive father was actually an ex-firefighter that had to retire due to a career-ending injury and ends up getting inspired by him to become a firefighter herself. Something that both of her new found, loving parents encouraged and supported, even as they pray for safety in such a dangerous career. Like OG Shinji, she worked as an apprentice, which was quite easy thanks to her father's connection to the firefighting community, and she's made something of a name for herself in her career. However, like in her OG backstory, while she may not be in an acting career anymore, that doesn't mean that she wouldn't come across racist co-workers, which is what causes her to dye her hair blonde to try and fit in more. And Emma would mostly be surrounded by adults in her firefighting career, so she wouldn't really have many friends her age and some people may put her on a pedestal due to the work she does as a firefighter, saving lives and all that, which only isolates her from her peers even more. Poor Emma, she just wants to be treated like a normal girl.

#SDRA2 #Emma Magorobi #Super Danganronpa Another 2 #SDRA2 Spoilers #sprite edit #Star's Art #Emma can now bench press #ya'll are doomed

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ieatkeyboard · 7 months ago

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Obey Me Outfits

Okay so I was scrolling through tumblr and I saw this pic CREDIT TO @ewesless FOR POSTING IT AND ABSOLUTELY RIPPING THESE GUYS TO SHREDS-

I have some words I would like to speak

LUCIFER: The actual outfit is super cute and I like seeing him in relatively comfy attire but he's posed like he's taking a pic for his tinder profile. This poor man-

MAMMON: He absolutely is a model because the outfit is giving moldy banana covered in black sharpie and yellow highlighter tied to a string but he STILL looks good

LEVIATHAN: OHSHC cosplay done with clothes already in his closet. YOU CAN'T HAVE A BROWN TIE AND SHIRT WITH BLUE PANTS AND A WEIRD PATTERENED BLUE JACKET. PICK A COLOR SCHEME, BABE

SATAN: Oh honey you look beautiful. You're so cute. WHY DO YOU DRESS SO GOD AWFUL ALL THE TIME. YOUR WEIRD TEAL PANTS AND NEON GREEN SWEATER. YOU HAVE CUTE CLOTHES. YOU LOOK SO SWEET. WHAT WAS THE REASON.

ASMODEUS: Beautiful. You look gorgeous. STUNNING. HE WAS ALWAYS PRETTY AND HAD GOOD FASHION BUT HE LOOKS SO CUTE. - 3-

BEELZEBUB: The shirt is reminding me of pizza toppings and I can't tell if that was the goal but it IS what it's giving. His hair makes me wanna shoot myself. It feels like Asmo was like "NO WE'RE TAKING FAMILY PHOTOS AND YOUR HAIRS A MESS." and shoved it to the side- I like everything else, at least the jacket and pants match

BELPHEGOR: Yeehaw. He looks really sweet but it doesn't feel very "Belphie" ya know? He looks like he has a berry farm, not like he kills people and pranks his brother all day, every day.

SOLUTION FROM WORST FIT TO THE BEST:

Mammon: I'm sorry- Either wear black pants and a yellow belt with your weird shirt or wear a black shirt with your weird pants. You look great, Sweety, but let's be honest it's a mess.

Leviathan: If you want a brown shirt and tie, get dark brown pants and match it with the jacket WITHOUT A FUCKING PATTERN. If you wanna be blue, a light blue shirt, a blue tie. LOSE THE JACKET. BURN IT WITH FIRE. PICK A NEW ONE. OR DON'T! ROLL UP YOUR SLEEVES, UNBUTTON IT A LITTLE AND LOSEN THE TIE, BAM. HOT.

Beelzebub: Different shirt- Anything else. Just wear a necklace or rings for pops of color.

Belphegor: You look adorable, but it's giving "I'm gay and I'm seeing my conservative grandparents on the country side". If you told me he willingly wore jeans, I'd call you a liar.

Lucifer: The pose is awful- The pants feel boring. Get a chain or something- AND DONT TELL ME HE WOULDN'T WEAR A CHAIN. HE WEARS A HUGE FLUFFY COAT EVERYWHERE AND HAS A WEIRD GOLD CHAIN/ROPE ALREADY. HE LOOKS BORING AFTER SEEING HIM LIKE THAT

Satan: You look beautiful. SO CUTE. Why cant it always be like this? You have the potential. YOU JUST WON'T TAKE IT. YOU DONT NEED TO LOOK DUMB. YOU HAVE OPTIONS. THE ONLY REASON YOU'RE LOW ON THE "Outfit solution" LIST IS BECAUSE I HAVE NO PROBLEMS WITH THIS OUTFIT. BUT I'M MAD AT YOU FOR DRESSING UGLY ALL THE TIME WHEN YOU CAN BE CUTE.

Asmodeus: Stunning, princess, going on a coffee date, eating little sandwiches. Perfect. Thank god, or I'd lose my marbles. When it comes to fashion, I'm not shocked Asmo isn't missing anything. The sneakers are chill and comfy but he still looks very sleek cause they're white. I just UGHH MWAH BEAUTIFUL.

#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me #Obey Me Design Judging

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years ago

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Bad For Business: Level Three

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.5K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter. “What do you mean, it just stopped working?”

Standing under the broken aircon unit was not how you wanted this shift to go. Especially on the hottest day of the year.

Especially with Jason Carver and Steve Harrington.

It was hotter than ever inside the empty arcade, the rows and rows of machines doing nothing more than pumping heat into the room from their whirring fans. The jumpy, happy tune from Mario Bros. was starting to make your eye twitch and you hadn’t seen a customer the entire time you’d been working. Normal people were at the community pool, the richest of Hawkins relaxing under their own air conditioning, on their floats in their private swimming pools.

“I don’t know!” Jason fumed, rounding on Steve with more anger than necessary, seeing how he was the one to cause the ancient thing to die. There was a broken off broom handle sticking out of the vent. “I just tried to get the thing to aim towards the desk more!”

You were standing too near Steve, bare arms brushing, pressed close behind the desk as the boy swore, skin glistening and doing everything he could to not look at you. You’d taken your stupid staff shirt off an hour ago, a too thin camisole thing underneath, cropped and letting everyone know that you definitely weren’t wearing a proper bra.

Your skin was flushed, a little damp, your hair sticking to your neck and sweat beading at your chest, clinging to the space between your vest and your shorts. Steve definitely wasn’t looking.

“You impaled it,” you muttered, staring up at the sputtering fan. “You absolute fucking moron.”

It was the straw that broke the sweaty camel's back, because Jason’s nostrils flared and he dropped the second half of the broken broom onto the floor. He held up his hands in defeat, face red with heat and anger. “I’m out. I’m done,” he told you before rounding on Steve. “Sort this shit yourself, Harrington. And maybe teach your girl some manners whilst you're at it.”

No one spoke as he stormed through the empty arcade, the lights flashing on the machines no one played. The door opened for just a second as Jason slipped out, a bright flash of blue sky and sunbeams over the black walls, the neon signs and ultraviolet light. There wasn’t any breeze, no wind that came in, nothing to soothe the heat that lingered heavily in the air.

“She isn’t my girl!” Steve shouted the same time you yelled feebly, “I’m not his girl, jerk.”

But the door had already slammed shut and Jason’s car could be heard ripping out of the parking lot. An almost silence followed, the hum of the machines, the stuttering of the barely alive aircon unit, Steve’s strained sigh. And then, a click.

Deafening, final, ending in darkness.

The lights went out, the sickly yellow overhead fluorescents, the flashing neons on the machines, the screens and even the green numbers that usually flashed on the cash register. With no windows in the old unit, well, you couldn’t see shit.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking me,” Steve muttered and he cursed when he moved, bumping into you as you both tried to find the edge of the desk and the same time. “Fuck, you’re on my foot—”

“That’s ‘cause you’re in my way,” you huffed, arguing weakly, an edge to your voice that sounded a little like panic but you weren’t going to tell Steve that. You weren’t a fan of the dark, especially the kind that made your own hand invisible in front of your face, the kind of dark that made you doubt your own vision. “Move, Harrington.”

“Move where?” Steve growled back, his hip bumping against your own, the edges of knuckles grazing against your ribs, against too much bare skin. It was suddenly so much warmer. “I can’t see shit, princess, what am I supposed to do?”

You tripped over something, a cable, a part of an old machine that Murray liked to keep, who knows, but it sent you into Steve’s side with a noise of objection. You swore, grabbing at anything you could, cringing when it happened to be Steve’s arms. He’d long rolled his shirt sleeves up, the cotton folded up to his shoulders, the lines of muscles there slick with sweat, more distracting than ever now you could feel them.

“Christ,” the boy chastised, “you’ve got as much grace as a baby giraffe, here—“ Steve didn’t finish his sentence, he just reached out to grab at you, hands on your waist, fingers skimming over the hand of your shorts as he righted you.

You were still holding his shoulders and you were close enough that you could see the outline of his features, the faint slope of his nose, the line of his jaw, even in the dark. Neither of you said anything, not right away. And then you were both pushing back, hands leaving each other, hips and elbows and ribs bumping into cabinets and stray stools.

“Where’s the fuse box?” Steve asked and he sounded further away now, like he was moving towards the office door, wherever it was. Something clattered to the floor and you heard him curse and then kick it. “Murray’s gotta have a flashlight somewhere, right? Probably stashed with his not so secret weed that he ‘confiscates’ from the kids,” he snorted.

Another thump, a small bang and then Steve’s hands found the office door, a pleased and triumphant sound leaving his lips as the hinges squeaked. The noise suddenly pushed you into action, a nervous anxiety gripping you as you tried to take a step forward, squeaking when your foot landed on a stack of papers that slid under your sneakers.

“Harrington!” You yelped, stumbling forward clumsily. “Steve? Jesus Christ, Steve!”

The door squeaked again, and although you couldn’t see him, a burst of cologne and sunscreen filled the space in front of you. Hands found yours, fumbling, awkward, as clammy with sticky warmth as yours were.

Suddenly the heat was cloying, suffocating. You felt tightly wound, head scrambled, throat dry. “What’re you doing?”

“Helping you, dummy.” Steve snorted, beginning to lead you around the desk, your free hand skimming along the wall, skating over the frayed edges of old posters and forgotten thumbtacks. “Unless you wanna stay here and amuse yourself. Argue with the wall or somethin’, you’re good at that.”

“Shut up.” There wasn’t much heat behind it, your words nowhere near as harsh as they’d usually be, ‘cause you were clinging to Steve’s hand as he led you back to the door. “Asshole.”

The office was just as dark as the rest of the arcade, the old computer on Murray’s desk as dead as the rest of the machines. You let go of Steve’s hand when you found the edge of the lunch table, the legs wobbling as you made contact with it and you could feel Steve behind you, around you, the sound of drawers opening and closing filling the quiet room.

“The fuck is this flashlight?” You heard him murmur, and then, “shit, wait, yes!”

A beam of light flooded the small room, orange-yellow and a little weak but it made your eyes water and squint and the sudden burst of colour. Steve must’ve reacted the same, hissing as his eyes stung, both of you stumbling.

Shoulders bumped, elbows knocked, hands brushed. Again.

You were closer than you’d realised, toes almost touching and Steve was all tight jeans and bare arms, lines of muscle you usually didn’t pay attention to wrapping around strong forearms. His hair was a mess, wilder than usual, sticking to his forehead and over his eyes, cheeks pink from the heat.

You watched him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes flickering down to roam all too obviously over your frame. Tight shirt, cropped, slick skin, peach flavoured lip balm that he’d watched you reapply in the tiny mirror by the lockers that morning. Silence stretched on, a yawning, all consuming thing that seemed thicker than the heat, warmer than the summer outside.

You licked your lips, salt on your Cupids bow and you watched Steve’s gaze follow the movement. The flashlight fell, bouncing on the worn carpet and the beam flickered across the wall, Steve’s trainers, your bare legs. Steve’s head knocked against your own as you both bent to pick it up, swearing softly and the boy winced, knowing he hurt you more than you hurt him.

“Shit,” his voice was quiet, low and a little rough. “Sorry.”

You were still too close, knelt on the floor with the boy, heads dipped together and you were desperate to shrug off the unfamiliar feeling of softness, the genuine apology from Steve making your chest stutter and still.

You let Steve grab the flashlight, muttering a “whatever,” in order to brush off the moment. You watched him stand, turning quickly when he flashed the beam back down to see you still on your knees before him, tits pushed together in your stupid little vest top, a bead of sweat rolling down your neck and into the dip between them.

He wasn’t looking. He wasn’t looking.

So he left you in the dark as he pushed away the leftover coats that the rest of the staff had left since winter, pulling at the handle of the fuse box, letting clatter noisily against the wall. “C’mere for a second,” he said gruffly, not looking at you at all. “Hold this, yeah?”

“Manners are free, Harrington,” you tutted, “don’t be a bitch.”

Steve still wasn’t facing you, but you were pretty sure he was rolling his eyes. “You wanna stay stuck in the dark? In this heat?” He asked, he handed you the flashlight. “Least you can do is hold this, princess, don’t break a nail now, god forbid.”

You snatched the light from him, shouldering into his space just to piss him off, too close and too warm, cologne and sunscreen and chlorine scent hair from an early morning swim, peach scented chapstick and sweat. You hated it. You hated that you didn’t hate it all.

“Come on, sparky,” you nudged Steve, an elbow to his side, the flashlight pointed at the circuit board, showing rows and rows of switches and wires. “Fix it. Don’t break a nail, sweetheart.”

Steve glared at you, brows stitched together and his brown eyes honeycomb in the light. He looked like he wanted to argue, to snap back at you and bite, but instead he pressed his lips together and turned back to the fuses.

His fingers lingered over the switches, pausing to read the peeling and faded labels under each one, hesitating before he flicked the plastic. Some did nothing, the arcade remaining in darkness, in silence. Steve mumbled under his breath, a grumble that made you want to laugh but you kept your lips pressed together, the light still held aloft for him.

You were silent as you watched him push at each one, plastic flicking up and down, doing nothing. You grimaced as Steve started to play with some of the wires, pushing them back into the board with a little more force than made you comfortable, as if he knew what he was doing, as if was suddenly an expert in hard wiring and electrics.

“You’re gonna blow us up,” you warned, slapping at his hand when he kept prodding at things he didn’t know about. “Steve, Jesus, stop it!”

The boy tsked, budging up closer to you, only to try to shoulder you out of the way, shaking his hand loose from your attempt to grab him. It was a childish scuffle, one you’d definitely had before with Steve, over stolen bags of chips, the last can of soda, the set of keys that worked properly. But this time it was in the dark, skin still slick and the air too heavy and he was so fucking close, hands sliding over the bare skin on your stomach, your sides, his hair tickling your cheek as he poked at your ribs, trying to make you give in.

And then, all at once, Steve’s hand pushed at yours and the flashlight fell again, the beam flickering off just as something in the fuse box sparked and popped.

You yelped and Steve swore, both of you clambering backwards, away from the possibility of a full on fire, grabbing at each other like that would help. There was a beat of silence, one second, two second, three, just the sound of you and Steve breathing a little heavy - and then the lights came back on.

You blinked, squinting into the too bright strip lights and it maybe took you both too long that you were still clinging to each other, your fingers twisted in the front of his shirt, Steve’s wide, warm hand pressed to your lower back, his frame slightly in front of yours… like he was trying to block you from any danger.

He sprang away from you when your eyes met, your nose scrunched as you tried your best to act annoyed, like your heart wasn’t rattling in your chest, like you couldn’t smell Steve’s cologne on your own skin. You pushed back just as hard, ass bumping with the table, forgotten lunch boxes falling to the floor.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled, ducking to hide your warm cheeks.

Steve scoffed, running a hand through his hair and looking anywhere but at you. “What’re you even talkin’ about? I fixed it, didn’t I?”

“That was a fluke,” you laughed, more haughtily than you’d ever sounded but god, you were still too warm and you could feel the leftover pressure of Steve’s hand on your back. “You pressed some buttons and hoped for the best, get real.”

Steve glared, snapping the fuse box shut and leaning against it, arms crossed. “S’real cute coming from the girl who didn’t want me to leave her alone in the dark.”

You weren’t sure how you ended up toe to toe again, how you’d managed to cross the small office, chin lifted defiantly, cheeks warm. “No one would wanna be left in the dark!” You tried to reason, words feeling clumsy in your mouth because Steve was smirking, looking far too amused. “It’s not like I wanted to be beside you. I would’ve followed Jason, Jesus, don’t flatter yourself, Harrington.”

Steve just shrugged, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek to stop his grin. He sighed all dramatically and poked a finger to your cheek, laughing when you huffed and slapped it away. “Keep telling yourself that, princess.”

“You’re so full of yourself. I would’ve been fine without you.”

Closer still, toes touching, noses too close, the heat still clinging to you both.

“I saved your ass,” Steve teased. “Admit it.”

“No you didn’t, asshole.” You were unreasonably annoyed about how relaxed Steve was, cocky and lazy as he leaned against the desk.

The boy grinned. “Yeah? Wanna fight about it?”

The sound of the games resetting saved you from replying, the electronic cacophony of alarms and theme songs breaking up whatever was about to happen. You left Steve in the office and spent the rest of your shift with your T-shirt back on, sticky skin and unable to look him in the eye.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

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starsfic · 11 months ago

Note

Prompt - Hunter takes a walk with the purse Camila let him have.

"No, no, absolutely not."

"But I like it," Hunter says, glancing at the mirror. The purse Camila had let him borrow reminds him of Willow's eyes, being a rich olive green. "And besides, Camila said I look good in it."

"Well," Darius huffs, crossing his arms. "I'm saying no. At least not in that outfit."

Darius has bemoaned his fashion choices in the past, since Hunter now has a wider array he can pick from, but this is the first time he's done something like this. Hunter looks down at his outfit at that fact, wondering what's so bad. "What's wrong with my outfit?" It's a simple outfit, one of jeans and a shirt Luz had bought him.

It's the shirt Darius tugs on. "I don't know where you get your information, but neon yellow does not go with that green. You don't even have a touch of that green to go with the purse." He gestures for him to follow, and Hunter does. "I'm going to give you something from my closet that isn't that, and by tomorrow, I will have a guide of what colors go with what."

"...thanks?"

Darius humphs. "I'll even buy you some more purses. They're handy accessories."

"Thanks!"

#my writing #TOH #The Owl House #Darius Deamonne #Hunter #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #prompt fill #prompt fic

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withonly-sweetheart · 4 months ago

Text

The Floor is Lava

Leon signs up for the Netflix competition, "The Floor is Lava," dragging you along with him.

a/n: unoriginal asf title ik 😔 but i watched tfil and saw this gorgeous king and thought "leon kennedy" so u get this.

tw: dirty talk (if u can call it that nun too serious) suggestive content and cutie pie cringe leon 🤧

wc: 2.9k

part two???? if this gets attention 🥰

<><><><><>

You desperately cling to the rope, watching your knuckles turn white against the scratchy material. When you had jumped, you had expected a gentle swaying as you elegantly traversed the course, easily landing on the toy block.

But with neon orange slime spurting everywhere, covering you in the sticky substance and causing you to lose your footing, such grace was something you couldn’t afford. You gingerly place your foot on the block, your unset destination, immediately slipping away as another tawny bubble bursts to the left, startling you.

Holding on for dear life (and $10,000), you shift your wary gaze to Leon. He’s not too far away, a sheen of sweat beading down the side of his face as he makes the jump to a yellow bed, landing on shaky legs but miraculously not falling off.

He turns to you, grim determination set in the lines of his face, the planes of his cheekbones lifting in what seems to be an encouraging smile.

Leon didn’t tell you when he signed you both up for The Floor is Lava, to be recorded on camera as you made an absolute fool of yourself trying to complete an obstacle course with him. When the acceptance came in the mail, he looked so confident that you could win that it was hard to say no.

What really enticed you was the cash prize, a sum of ten thousand dollars. And you figured, why not try? It was free to join and aside from being publicly humiliated, there was nothing to lose.

Since they were done with trios, the director wanted to film couples, so your introduction was mainly just Leon talking about you two while you fiddled with your fingers, sitting with your knee dug into his, avoiding the camera crew’s intense stare.

And now, you finally find the courage to step onto the block, stumbling forward, finding purchase on the very edge. You slowly exhale, brushing away the strands of hair framing your face. Guess you’re not looking your best either.

Leon easily leaps from each obstacle, barely looking exhausted, quickly grabbing his exit pass and swinging over to you. You can see him through the Connect-4 board, one of your favorite board games, although not at the time.

“Uh, what do I need to do?” he calls out to you, stretching his arms. The graphic tee he’s wearing has ridden up his body, exposing the low ridge of his abdomen. The cameras are drinking it up, taking one too many close up shots for your liking.

You huff under your breath and shout back, “Knock out that piece at the bottom so I can climb up!”

“What piece?” You watch him look around on the platform he’s standing on. The toy blocks stacked in a neat pattern around him catch your eye.

“Push the blocks!” He nudges a block with his boot, confusion contouring his expression for a moment before it clicks and he kicks the tower. It collapses quickly under his force, revealing a spare weight.

The only problem is it looks an awful lot like something you’d put on a dumbbell, and you’ve never seen Leon go to the gym. You know that his job requires combat training and a whole lot of strength, but you’re unsure if he can lift something that heavy. He inspects it carefully, a frown creasing the space between his eyebrows.

“Can you lift-” He crouches and lifts the weight like it’s nothing. You stare, speechless, as he slots it into place right above the coin.

“Hurry up, sweetheart,” he urges with a subtle wink.

You use the pieces like stairs, reaching for the exit pass stuck at the top. Once your fingers are clutched around it, you immediately stick it onto the velcro on your shirt, fearing losing it.

“Got it,” you confirm, dangling your legs off the top of the board. Leon waits at the bottom, arms outstretched, fingers slightly curled as if you’re already in his grasp. You giggle at the thought and give him a lazy smile before leaping down, landing right in front of him.

“I’m no damsel in distress,” you tease, using the edge of the platform to somewhat scrape the saffron slime off the bottom of your sneakers. It was good that you picked an old pair that was already coming apart for this.

Leon fakes a pouty look, narrowing his eyes and jutting out his bottom lip. He crosses his hands over his chest, over his heart, and leans back dramatically.

“Oh, dear heavens, save me from this goddess of a woman, who brings woe is me!” he blabbers, trying to come across as somewhat comprehensible.

“Woe is not you,” you scoff. “Besides, you wouldn’t have been able to catch me anyways.”

His expression dims. If anything, he was most disappointed when you assumed that he couldn’t do things for you. “Wasn’t that far, love,” he mumbles.

“You’re already sore,” you tease, “you old man.”

“I’m not that old,” he protests but a steady grin spreads across his face. Usually his age would’ve hit a sore spot and stayed but he seems like he’s in a good mood today.

“Thirty seconds,” the commentator calls out, sounding quite bored. You feel bad for the man, usually he’s always rushing to add a snarky comment, like you expected after watching the previous three seasons of the show. But he’s been silent, so you assume that the target was to focus on the couples and romance and stuff.

You prefer snark.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t play at the flirty card.

You throw an arm around Leon’s neck leisurely, pushing the warning of thirty seconds to the back of your mind. You press a kiss to his lips, fast but as deep as you can make it without wasting too much time.

You step away with a sneaky grin lingering on your face at Leon’s dazed expression. He snaps out of it and meets your eyes with the same mischievousness. Despite dating for over two years and knowing each other for even longer, it feels like you’re discovering something new about him every day.

You both rush through the last obstacle, a five foot jump, the tension ringing in your ears. Leon cheers for you as you prepare to cover the distance, slightly worried about losing your footing.

“You’re on fire, hot stuff!” he hollers, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Just keep burning rubber ‘till the bike's wheels fall off!”

“In what world do I ride a motorbike?” You roll your eyes (expecting Leon’s cringe lines) and the buzzer sounds just as you spread out on the finishing mat, collapsing beside him, panting heavily. He presses a soft peck to the curve of your neck, lying there as a jaunty theme plays and the commentator nearly jumps up from his seat to express his true feelings about the runthrough.

“And they’ve made it to the volcano!” he exclaims, jumping from behind the railing. The cameras zoom in on you two, and you make an effort to crane your neck and offer a weak smile before flopping back down, letting yourself relax.

“So, angel,” he whispers. “Anything else you wanna ride?”

<><><><>

You keep the words of courage (not that last bit) in your mind as you grip his hand, scaling up the giant mountain spewing golden goop everywhere. When they said volcano, they weren’t joking.

“You can do this,” he says assuringly.

“We can do this,” you correct with a sly smirk, noting the other couple glaring daggers at you, entwined in each other's arms.

But the cameras are off, which gives them free will to do as they wish. As if on cue, the man approaches. "That was some stunt back there. Guess Leon couldn't keep his hands off his girlfriend for five minutes, could he?"

His partner snickers cruelly. "Please, like they have any chance of winning. Let's be real, she's holding him back."

You step forward angrily but Leon's arm bars your waist. "We don't have time for their games, love. Save your energy for what matters." He locks eyes with them in a challenging stare.

“I've seen the way you look at her," the guy sneers at Leon. "It's pathetic. You're too distracted to focus on winning."

“Is he asking for it?” Leon cranes his neck to absently glance at something behind you, using the chance to mutter that into your ear.

Hands on your hips, you narrowed your eyes. "Jealous that we have what you never will? Real love and trust, not just desperation?"

The woman scoffs. "Please. Love is for the weak. This competition is about skill, and you two are lacking."

“Lacking?” You fight for a sweet smile. “The only thing lacking here is your ability to disguise that you’re desperate enough to say this to our faces.”

The guy flushes and the girl scowls, but they put on their camera smiles as the director calls out to you all. Through the course of your time here, you had watched them climb their way up the rankings and anticipated facing off against them, and however much you disliked them and however much you doubted your chances of winning, you fought to put effort into it, wanting to win to wipe those smug expressions off their faces.

“First ones to get their rocks set in place wins!” the commentator says brightly, flashing you a smile. You can’t tell if it’s genuine or forced but you don’t let it bother you, squeezing Leon’s hand tightly.

He squeezes back, looking at you with a certain kind of confidence, one that overflows from him to you. You look back at the mountain, renewing your idea of it.

The commentator counts down, thrusting his hand in time to the numbers, fingers retracting slowly before he pumps his fist in the air and you sprint off the platform. You swing your way across the bars and carefully push off from the chimney-styled column to land on the sticky surface near the base of the volcano.

The area wavers, like a raft on the ocean during a storm, making it hard to stand on your feet. Leon’s weight on the already unstable surface topples you over and you crawl to your knees in front of him, grumbling in dissent.

Leon’s low chuckle reaches you as he pulls you up and towards him, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “On your knees for me? In public?”

You push away from him, spotting your competition catching up. Grasping the ridges of the slope, you struggle to find purchase on the slippery surface. Sending a silent prayer of thanks to your parents for your long arms, you pull yourself up onto the ledge, panting heavily from the effort. Your muscles burn and you feel the stretch in your hamstrings, but you manage to uncoil the rope and toss it down to Leon.

He’s up in no time, coaxing you back up the mountain. His little words of praise and the thought of beating those cocky bastards spur you up to the top. When you reach the peak, you inhale slowly and push your rock.

It doesn’t budge. On the small ledge Leon and you are standing on, his body is pressed right against yours. The room suddenly feels much hotter, the temperature now fitting your surroundings. You hear him let out a shaky exhale, breath fanning the shell of your ear.

“Need some help, darling?” he coos quietly, too quiet for the microphones to pick up. “Is that what you need?”

You narrow your eyes, knowing that he knows what he’s doing to you, and it’s not really helping your concentration. You swat his hand away, the one you feel creeping from your waist, to a lower area.

“Just move the rock,” you hiss through gritted teeth, leaning over the edge of the volcano to try and get a better grip. Leon steps closer, pushing you against the surface, pinning you down so you can feel him, what you’re doing to him. “The rock!”

“You didn’t say which one,” he chastises breathily. “You didn’t say which.”

“Stupid, there’s only one-” You go silent, cheeks flushing at the realization of his words as you lean back involuntarily, straining from the effort of stretching. A strangled groan passes his lips and he lifts you back, hands settling on the dip of your hips.

“Just move,” he growls and there’s a more primal tone to his words now, and you get the feeling he’s not just talking about the rock. An urgent tone, like he’s suddenly impatient. A smile flutters across your face and you use his leverage to push yourself up, now splayed on the lower half of the volcano’s peak.

With a glance to the other couple, who’s fully given up on the challenge itself and are making out furiously against the walls, you slot your rock into place. Guess you were right about desperation.

A buzzer sounds and through the sloppy moans of the competition, you hear your commentator shout words of approval as he speaks to the camera before it cuts to you both. You turn and smile, Leon still standing behind you, arms wrapped firmly around your waist as he peppers messy kisses to your neck.

“Leon,” you say shyly, fully feeling the cameras on the both of you.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your skin. “They want a show. Let’s give them one.”

You don’t understand what he means until you stand beside him, fingers entwined, one of your hands holding the lava lamp that comes as a trophy. You’re more excited about the cash sum, mind already racing towards the thought of happily living together in your own house. Married.

You won’t deny yourself, you’ve been waiting for him to propose for god knows how long. Every time you think it might be the right time, nothing happens and your hopes slightly dim. While the cameras pan in on his smile, you use the time to sneak glances towards him.

When he looks back, adoration swims in his baby blue eyes as he turns to you, letting your hand fall out of his. “And… my inspiration is you. It’s always been you.”

You beam. I guess it’s always been something you’ve known, given the way he treats you, but hearing him say it out loud? For so many people to see? It feels like an accomplishment, a declaration of your love.

“Well, Leon- can I call you that? - I must say, I’m not one for romance, but you two have truly moved me tonight.” The commentator, Benny, you think, shakes his head. “Y'all deserve this. How’d you know that you would be there for each other?”

You nod. “I guess it’s the trust you have in your partner, the feeling of knowing even if you fall, they’ll be there.”

“But not to catch you, because the floor is…” Benny looks at us, expectant.

You and Leon share a glance before grinning madly and screaming, “Lava!”

The lights flash and Benny turns to the camera, previewing next week’s episode as Leon turns to you, the soft blue light washing over his face, highlighting the sharp contours of his gentle expression.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, resting a hand on his arm.

“I think you know what’s wrong,” he replies, leaning back to stand on his heels. You figure he might need some distance after… that, but he crouches down on one knee, looking up at you, eyes conveying nervousness.

You stare blankly, for some reason unable to react because after waiting for so long, it feels like you don’t know the correct expression to display on your face. You break out into a smile that hurts your cheeks when he starts talking, voice soft so he doesn’t interrupt Benny’s faint chatter.

“Darling, you already know how much I love you, so we’ll skip the formalities.” He clears his throat, pulling a box from seemingly nowhere and opening it, revealing a simple ring with a sparkling diamond inside. “Will you make me the goddamn happiest man alive and marry me?”

“Leon, of course, yes, yes!” Your mind starts to spin as he stands up, reaching out to put the ring on you, but you rush into his arms, numb with happiness, clutching the fabric of his shirt, sobs escaping you.

He pats your back, slightly shifting your position to put the ring on you. Trying your best to calm down, you admire the loose band around your finger, spotting letters engraved on the inside. Curious, you check the message. It reads, "Property of Kennedy.”

“Does yours say that too?” You snicker, wiping at your eyes frantically.

“‘Course, baby,” he says, voice low, “you'll always be mine and I'll always be yours.”

You realize the room has gone silent. Benny's twisting over his shoulder to stare at you, unashamed, but the entire studio's doing the same thing. Hell, the director's even pointing at you two, waving his arms wildly as the cameraman squints into his little box.

“And there we have it, folks,” Benny rushes to finish, “our sweet love story just keeps getting better! We hope to see you in next week’s episode!”

“Told you we'd win,” he finally boasts, wrapping a firm arm around your shoulders.

“Oh, shut up,” you say, slightly amused. “It’s a miracle I didn’t fall in.”

Leon chuckles. “Then we both got lucky, hm?”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil #leon kennedy fluff #leon scott kennedy #need to play tfil with re6 dilf leon #re6 leon #re6 leon fanfiction #re6 leon kennedy #the floor is lava

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