#they’d be walking together at the Olympics open too but probably didn’t talk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

hey hannah! hope you are doing great darling ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ i may have a request in mind, a university/college au with jock!jk and shy art major!yn or an olympics au? with olympic athlete!jk and olympic athlete!yn (you decide which sports!) thank you so much in advance ♡

never (k)not you

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 5k

glimpse: established relationship ft. jock!jk and shy art major!y/n, y/n gets an unexpected pep talk and jungkook doubts himself, and either so much tears or so much dUST according to kook

notes: baby ok FIRST OF ALL, i’m so sorry i only got to write this now :(( it’s been three months since you sent in this request bUT well it’s here now :D thank you so much for requesting and waiting!! i really hope ur still here or else i-i... will lose it

if you squint, best friend!tae is actually rich kid tae both from the art major drabble and insufferable!!

lunch with taehyung either makes the both of you the LOUDEST motherfuckers in the planet or it’s just comfortable silence

comfortable silence’s more common whenever the two of you are in public because to put it simply

he’s cold and you’re shy!! makes sense

but god just mention his girlfriend’s name oNCE and he’ll talk your ear off and you get genuinely excited when he is

he just needs to mention gouache for less than a second and you will genuinely freak

then suddenly the both of you are the chattiest beings ever and absolutely no one will yield until they get the final say

but this

this just feels weird...

because it’s lunch and you’re not talkative and the silence is most definitely not comfortable

you just know tae has something up his sleeve and will probably catch you off-

“are you and jungkook a thing?”

...

......

it’s never actually registered in your head that you and jungkook are a THING but absolutely no one knows

literally no one

not even the dust living underneath your bedframe!! or if guardian angels existed, then they’d probably be clueless as fuck

lol wait what was that cold gust of wind on ur arms

jungkook is the dreamiest man alive and he’s been your boyfriend for what?? two years now??

and the two of you, and more of him actually, insisted to keep it private

your relationship is none of anyone’s business and it uh.,. it literally seems to be that way because sometimes even yOU forget that you’re in a relationship

jungkook avoids you like the plague and you keep to yourself like you do with all your gouache

this dynamic of no one knowing has been so instilled in you that tae’s innocent (?) question is enough to make you spiral little by little

taehyung was just harboring an idea ok

because like two days ago when you went out with him and his girlfriend for ice cream, jungkook was there too by himself

and that just seems like pure coincidence

but then they dOn’t seem like coincidences anymore when he realizes on the same day how many classes he was in where you were in

and you don’t even have the same major!!!

or when he’s walking you home because your apartment is literally on the right side of his girlfriend’s (changbin’s on the left) and he’s taking every possibility he gets

but it just so happens that uh... jungkook’s always there from a distance? like when the two of you are walking and that guy just hAD to be there at the back??

goddamn it tae should’ve gotten his parents’ offer for personal security while he’s studying in campus :((

“woah woah wOAH what’s the matter?” you panic when he shoves you inside your apartment the moment you manage to open it

“this fucking jungkook guy is either stalking you or me and it’s starting to get on my nerves!!”

“... taehyung-“

and then he realized that oh... ok... i see

what if this guy has a crush on you??

but it didn’t make sense because why would this soccer guy (no offense) that’s a jock (no offense) who always either looks high with how giggly he is (no offense) or bereaved with how he scowls (no offense) could POSSIBLY like you???

you who’s the art major (no offense) with your clothes almost exactly like he is (no offense) that he has an inkling that either you were copying him or him copying you (no offense) and the shyness that you absolutely wouldn’t talk to anyone unless they go first and tHAT even became a tough cookie for him!! h i m

wait

on another thought...

that does make sense

you and jungkook are more likely to be a couple than anyone else more alike to either of you, no offense :D

and the way now that you’re frozen and scoffing like ur voicing mater’s engine in cars

“w-what? FUCK no!!”

mhmmm

yeah that’s the spot

taehyung means this in full offense but you’d be absolutely bankrupt if ever you wanted to try your hand at poker when your tell is literally cussing in capital when you’re flustered

this is the equivalent of your mom leaving you by the line to the cashier at the grocery when she needs to get something and you’re next at the line and you have no money on you and you’re too hesitant to tell the person behind you to-

“why? are you thinking of asking him out?”

he hears you seethe and that’s only the second time he’s heard you actually do that so he may have straightened his posture a lil

you wouldn’t hold it against taehyung because jungkook is one fINE specimen and tae doesn’t stare from that description anyway

you just can’t help but feel a lil.....

ಠ_ಠ

because you know that jungkook is yours and when it comes to things like these, you can’t do anything about it

how could you??

fine... if taehyung tries to-

smack!

the fact that your friend has a gigantic palm for one doesn’t soothe the gears in your head

you’re positive that your brain actually shook inside your head for a split second

“i already have someone, dumbass.”

taehyung has to remind you again to which you immediately awe in remembrance, a sheepish smile on your face bc for a moment, you actually considered begging for tae to back the fuck off without making it seem you’re already with jungkook

he waves you off because you’re about to coo at him again, a small smile on his face because he wouldn’t forget how he’s so lucky

it’s nice to be in love!!

you should probably try it some time

but then again, taehyung’s starting to think that you’ve been in a longer relationship with jungkook than him in one, so he thinks that he should be the one taking notes from you

“can i, uhm, ask how did you know?”

you don’t mind swallowing your pride because you already know you can’t bullshit your way out of this one, a timid look on your lap

sheesh

tae’s pride seems to swell up because his suspicion’s right just by oNE singular try

“because i’m rich kid kim :) don’t you know that?”

see now this is only one of the few times that he’d gladly take his title

rich kid kim was coined by the courtesy of changbin, his girlfriend’s friend :/

it just seemed to STICK on everyone else after then

changbin was the first to narrate his actions like he’s the lead star of a poorly-produced netflix film

what’s wrong with rich kid kim? is his greeting every time he crosses paths with changbin

he was just pissy that oNE time!! it was ONE time

taehyung thinks of the whole jungkook situation and relates it to him as much as possible because ya know,,, he is the main star and koo’s just a second lead

ok changbin’s netflix narrations are really rubbing off on him

“think of jeon jungkook as an elitist that everyone wants to be close with, and yet he actually looks like one of the good guys — like me — and he looks like he wants to shoot himself in the foot when he gets offered caviar oNE more time, and then you’re like uh, the comic relief???”

he spews his interpretation all in one breath effortlessly and you’re just blinking slowly to try and digest it all

it’s oddly too specific

hol up now why does it sound like he’s been actually waiting for you to ask him that

HOLD ON YOU’RE THE COMIC RELIEF???

“a clowN?” is what you react first and tae can’t believe that that’s the only thing you picked up from his perfectly sound analogy

“uhhhh like a bartender? a waitress? someone that isn’t a socialite,” he shrugs as he tries to make amends, remembering that the last time he went to a rich kid kim party, no one was technically in pennywise shoes nor juggling bowling pins

“are you trying to insult me tae?”

:((

yIKES are u gonna cry

“what?? no!! no!!” he launches from his seat as if he was falling and that catches him a couple of glances from rich kid kim loyalists (there’s a lot of things he’s unaware of), about to punch the floor if only their lord and savior didn’t take it in stride, “i’m not trying to insult you, but it’s how you take it, y��know?”

his nonchalance puts you on the edge even more, launching from your seat and uh you don’t exactly have any concerned fanbase there to worry for you

“so i sHOULD?? tae you’re basically saying that-”

alright that’s it

he needs to actually get through you this time because more often that not, you are so fucking stubborn that it beats him

he glares at you, eyes looking comically large and pissy as he’s stopped in the middle of slurping from his cup noodles to talk some sense into you

it feels like an eternity until he finishes his noodles and you were almost tempted to just eat the remaining portion to fasten his pace

“in rich kid kim terms, or reality y/n terms?”

you’re almost too scared to answer but you already do before you can even process, raising two fingers

and for a moment, you think tae’s actually gonna go easy on you!

whew you definitely aren’t prepared if-

“do you come out together by the main door? or from the back?”

your eyes are as large as they could possibly be and if you stay in that same shocked and taken-aback state, you’d need to look for those creams with how much your eyebrows and your forehead are creased

u-uh well now that i think about it-...” okay maybe you and jungkook don’t come into uni by any of the several hundred main entrances at all, but that doesn’t mean-

“does he hold your hand? carry your backpack? doesn’t matter if you have a dumbbell in there or not, does he carry it?” tae lists item after item, racking through his mind as these were also all the things he does, and all the things he’s picked up from everyone

“does he bring your water? lend his hoodie when you’re not even sniffling? pick a fight when someone even looks at you the wrong way? read something relatively romantic in english lit, then text you about it? brag about you to his friends? does he-...”

...

....

okay

you are awfully too silent for even your nature

tae was blissfully obvious just two seconds ago when he was enumerating boyfriend traits (that he himself exhibited, excuse you) left and right

then he started to realize that you weren’t stuttering nor interjecting on the side

he’s :O when you’re standing up from your seat, straightening out your hoodie, one that isn’t jungkook’s, that you’ve been anxiously wrinkling for the past ten minutes

“excuse me, tae. i have uh.. i have a lot to think about.”

everything he’s said made a solid number on you because not even distracting yourself becomes successful

not even your mini fixation on gouache helped you because so far it really sucks

it’s become a routine of jungkook to come over to your apartment almost everyday that it practically feels he’s living with you

he knows where you keep your milk and how cold you want the AC to blast and how you organize your groceries

and yet jungkook can’t-

“koo do you love me?”

it’s a question that was sprung so suddenly because come to think of it, you’re knitting and jungkook’s head is buried in your thighs while he tries to take a nap

he doesn’t bother trying to figure out your thought process because it’s a question that’s so simple that it seemed trivial

jungkook’s a dream when he nods and hums to your thighs, making you tread your hands on his hair instead of your roll of yarn

“mhmmm. more than life itself.”

he loves loves you!!! he doesn’t even know why you’re asking

“okay,” you hum back, crouching down to press a kiss on his nape that he appreciates because he’s a little ticklish on that spot, “hold my hand tomorrow then.”

:-)

jungkook launches from his position on your thighs, sitting up immediately that it’s gotten him dizzy

“... w-what?”

oh boy here it goes

you don’t feel like dancing around this issue anymore because after all, you do have the right to stick your finger in this!!

he’s your boyfriend i mean like what’s not clicking

“it’s not that big of a deal, jungkook. it’s not like i asked you to propose to me or something.”

his eyes widen more at that, his cheeks puffing out and it makes you realize that taehyung was right and it dOES look like he’s hiding a goldfish in there sometimes

you try to bite back a laugh at that but jungkook is devoid from any entertainment at all, looking like you just asked him to pick between you and the universe

“you uh want me to propose??”

he has his hand awkwardly caressing his nape and his cheeks flush as he’s trying to process things

yeah he DOES love you and he’ll marry you eventually but you’re doing this now!!! as in now??

how’s your wedding gonna work? god, can the two of you decide on the menu for your reception? does this mean your aunts and his aunts would mee?? no no that could not possibly be-

“you don’t need to,” you sheepishly mumble and you’re not gonna deny that marrying jungkook did cross your mind every once in awhile

you aren’t against it but marriage is not the issue at hand!! it’s just about him hOLDING your hand tomorrow and not forever now

“so you don’t want me to?”

...... christ where is this going to

there’s palpable tension in the air and you just feel like giving up, sinking further into the couch and koo’s reading TOO much into it

what if you slouching on the couch means you’re breaking up with him and you wouldn’t marry him even if he was the last person alive

��if you aren’t ashamed of me, or if you don’t feel like dYING when i’m five feet away from you and your jock friends-“

“lovie i-“

your ringless hand raises and prompts him to shut up, palms a little sweaty and fingers tired from stress-knitting

“then hold my hand. tomorrow. please.”

:-)

okay fine then

last night wasn’t exactly the best experience because you felt a little too distant even if he was enveloping you into his arms

last night, kook didn’t even dare to try and press mischievous kisses from your jaw to your shoulder because you felt untouchable with how wringed you were

then he had breakfast by himself much earlier and had to practically sHAKE you awake to whisper that he’s gonna leave earlier because he has a plan, and then proceeds to tell you to act as if you didn’t know that he has a plan, then go back to sleep and forget altogether that this literal rude awakening even happened

if you ask him, he is wearing the most boyfriend fit ever in this entire universe

which is uh his regular outfit of a fit shirt and a cool-looking jacket with chunk boots thrown on top of it

BUT!!!!

hear him out ok

he’s wearing a bracelet

uh huh

a bracelet...... that has the iNITIAL of your name

yuh how romantic is that

man both hallmark and netflix must be bankrupt because of jeon jungkook!! he’s sure of it

he just knows

the big deal of it all is jungkook waiting for you by the stairs, bouncing on heels out of displaced nervous energy because he’s too jittery to just coolly lean against the wall

“kook?”

you’re tilting your head at the sight, a little lost but more on fond as he smiles squarely

“y/n! it’s uh, it’s you! wow!!”

he exclaims but not without tucking his hands into his pockets and non-discreetly looking around your surrounding before he deems it clear enough, which is what you still find useless for him to even do it!!

the whole point of this is to not care!!

he’s gingerly placing himself beside you and although it’s not exactly what you asked for, it makes you sigh a breath of relief because it’s been tOO long that you’ve been next to him in this public atmosphere

he’s not exactly far, but he isn’t exactly bumping shoulders with you either

there are some glances alright

jungkook has a loose grip on you but you could fEEL how his hand is so sweaty

he’s just looking at the floor and he allows you to guide him because if not for you, he would’ve been bumping into both lockers and people non-stop

u actually have first period together but you typically sit rowS away but now he’s just sitting on the chair right above yours

he isn’t next to you but he’s literally above you, so maybe you’ll take it

you can’t exactly text taehyung how it’s going because he could see everything from where he’s seated at

this was supposed to be an enjoyable time :(

a nice, giggly, warm enjoyable time with jungkook

but being this unrestricted meant him being so rigid that quite frankly, you’ve grown sick and wary of it in less than an hour

you’re making your way to the library and jungkook’s sTILL following you when you were sure he wouldn’t have

and if you ask him, he doesn’t know either why he followed you

he jus did it without thinking even if it meant him taking quick steps behind you with his head down

he doesn’t know why you’re here and he feels a little guilty that he should know it if this was already a part off your routine

but this time, jungkook can’t look at you because this time, you’re the one who’s unreachable

who kNOWS what your empty stare could possibly mean

“we don’t have to do this anymore, y’know.”

that’s the quickest way to conclude it, nodding to yourself surely

meanwhile, jungkook is a millisecond away from a goddamn mELTDOWN

“w-what do you mean?”

“this!” you genuinely chuckle and even wiggle your hands around to make a point

he swears to god rn that he is gonna BLUBBER

“a-are you breaking up with me right now?”

his voice is already cracking and it reminds him that oh, yeah, the two of you are in the library and he’s about to cRY

you’re gasping when you take his trembling hand and jungkook wants to snatch it back and beg you to hold it tighter at the same time

oh no :-)

“it’s okay. i don’t mind anymore. and what, we’re gonna graduate like a year from now! doesn’t matter anymore.”

but wait it SHOULD matter

he’s gonna cry oh god oh god he’s gonna-

“you don’t need to change for me.”

:((

so that’s what

jungkook cries and it’s from relief that no, you aren’t breaking up with him

“o-okay,” he nods as he wipes his own tears that are blurring his vision and there’s sO much that he actually worries if it would budge his contacts

he just wants a hug from you to console him like you always do

but instead, you look around, settle on tapping his chin, then standing up

“cheer up. i’m gonna go eat lunch with felix.”

and then yOU’RE the one leaving him

quick

does he really look like a red-nosed, bleary-eyes, puffy-lipped mess??

say sike rn lads

jungkook clearly doesn’t look the best and he doesn’t exactly know what he was doing when he came out of the library and marched over to hang out with his friends like he always did

but something’s just different

he looks like someone whose world turned upon him and has nothing left to himself

surprisingly, it’s not hobi who’s the only one thinking of that

his friends are all ????

“y’okay man??”

namjoon’s the first to break the silence and everyone sighs because they were all holding a breath just by looking at jungkook’s distraught state

“yeah! just, uh, just —“

he’s back to being preppy in an instant but he can’t establish eye contact, swinging his arms by his sides and looking around just to look natural and gOD IS THAT YOU??

you’re you

you’re there, walking with felix and your backpack on hIS shoulder

.,., the same backpack that he’s bought you one birthday ago, on tHIS dude’s shoulder strewn as if he didn’t panic in between which variant should he buy for you

you look blissfully unaware that he’s cried himself just by thinking about you and your words and lack of actions just awhile ago

“nothing.”

jungkook grits out and suddenly, he isn’t sad anymore :D

just uh

just a lil frustrated :D agitated :D or maybe feeling a little inadequate and outraged :D

this other mini breakdown going on his head doesn’t go unnoticed because here he is, so close to injuring his fist with how tight he’s clenching it

the guys, however.,.,

seokjin whistles and goes as far to squint his eyes intentionally that he looked like a distraught chihuahua, immediately grabbing jungkook’s actions as he nods his head to your direction

“y/n, right?”

jungkook froze and everyone is just waiting on him, mouths a little parted because they’ve caught on jin’s little plan and somehow, he might’ve struck a chord sO hard that-

“keep your fucking dick in your pants, seokjin.”

WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH

everyone’s reacting to his seething like a flock of seagulls to a piece of bread

yeah they’ve seen the youngest of their group mad, but not tHIS type of mad that he looks like he would’ve hit his hyung with a skillet upright if he had one onhand

everyone’s visibly offended besides seokjin, the man mentioned just amusedly shrugging his shoulders with a dimpled smile that unintentionally provoked jungkook even more

“told you,” yoongi gives up his last batch of cookies to namjoon, a long-winded bet finally coming to an end because of what was only supposed to be a harmless question by jin

“if y/n was your girlfriend, you could’ve just said so!!”

jin ruffles his hair and it doesn’t exactly take a genius to see how he cares for you!!

jungkook looks out for you in ways he couldn’t even notice doing

he always had two umbrellas in his backpack and when it was raining, he’d leave one on purpose by the front of this specific locker

hoseok actually borrowed an eraser without permission from kook once, but then he found a combination of tampons n napkins that he grimaced because what :// those aren’t even the good brands!! he has a sister and now has a handful of knowledge about monthly visits, so he takes note to talk to jungkook about it some time

there’s even an extra sweater in his backpack that always remains unotuched

one time, jimin complained that he was cold and turned to jungkook, full-well knowing that the fucker had oNE more sweater tucked in his bag, who just plains-out ignore him and even tch!s him under his breath

they somehow had a clue all along and now that jungkook realizes, he may be a little dENSE

OH RIGHT

WHY WOULD HE HAVE KEPT YOU HIDDEN

that’s entirely stoopid of him

what was the reason lmao

this time, jungkook’s more than eager to make it up to you

eVEN if you’ve insisted that nothing was wrong!!

it was just the last day before christmas break so it went by considerably fast-paced because even the professors were a little antsy to come home!!

that didn’t stop him, because clearly, jungkook holds your hand tight this time and he’s looking straight ahead

he looks proud

he feels natural and giggly the whole day that you couldn’t stop either because it’s a complete 360 from yesterday

wouldn’t absolutely stop holding your hand and following you

even kisses the top of your head like a kitten repeatedly

eVEN SAT IN A CLASS HE DIDN’T HAVE TO BE WITH YOU

something’s up with jungkook alright

the two of you are back again on the couch — you knitting, and him buried and napping on your thighs

it’s a bit of a shock when he grabs your hand all of a sudden, a half-sleepy and full-on dreamy look on his face when he’s looking up at you from being laid down on your lap

a red silicone band :D

you’re still speechless when he’s sliding it on your ring finger, admittedly getting the wrong finger the first time which is why he’s sheepish and holding back a giggle

“jungkook....?”

unsurprisingly, it looks good on you

he seems to think so himself when he’s giving you another one, holding his hand out and you’re doing the same without even an explanation present

“it’s a placeholder :)”

a placeholder?? hold on ur heart is a lil fragile

your eyes widen and your lips downturn on instinct, making him giggle as he smushes your cheeks to just let him explain

“all this marriage talk just had me thinking-”

“are you PROPOSING right now??”

both the mix of panic and excitement stains you clearly, mouth dropping open as you try to fumble for atleast something to wipe your face with

hee-hee

“maybe i am, maybe i’m not :)”

jungkook’s such a romantic it’s SICKENING

his mind drifts off and you can’t blame him!!

his family’s well-off so maybe he could cash in his next ten birthdays for a loan or maybe even a house to help ease the two of you in

maybe the two of you could even build it from the ground up

the two of you could also move into this nice apartment after graduation!! he’s been eyeing it for quite awhile actually

“you wanna get married early?”

“maybe i do, maybe i don’t :D”

jungkook’s faux nonchalance makes you grin yourself, the both of you knowing what answer he’d yield anyway

“as long as it’s you,” you declare surely, bending down to press a kiss on his nose that tickles him and makes his heart full

“as long as it’s me?”

jungkook smiles cheekily at your statement pressing kisses on the top of your thighs that’s got you fumbling at him to just embrace you immediately

he’s a little bulky with all the muscles he’s gained and worked on, a little pressured when he’s sitting on your lap upright and won’t absolutely stop kissing you sweetly

“you should start on knitting your wedding garter now :D”

#feedback pls and thank u :D hAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jock!jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic recs

1K notes · View notes

sariahsue · 4 years ago

Text

Rivals Are Always One “Make Me” Away From Kissing

Tossing the controller onto the desk, Adrien reached for Marinette’s waist and slid her into his lap. She came willingly, looping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair. (An Adrinette no powers video game AU - 10,000 words)

Adrien had to admit that he was a little bit of a nerd. Here he was, fifteen minutes early for school, in an outfit his personal assistant picked out for him, and looking over his homework alone in the hallway instead of talking with classmates or hanging out in the sunny courtyard like everyone else was doing.

A gust of cool air rushed in through an open doorway and ruffled his hair, making him sigh. It was no wonder he was still single.

The whisper of his name on the wind caught his attention.

"Nino?" Adrien called. The hallway was deserted, so he stuffed his homework into his backpack and stepped closer to the open doorway to investigate. The back of Nino's red cap came into view. He was sitting on the front steps, brushing shoulders with Alya.

"You have too much faith in my bro," Nino said.

Adrien stopped walking forward as his heart sank to the floor. Nino didn't believe in him about something?

"I'm giving Marinette one week, tops," Alya said.

"It's going to take him at least a month," Nino countered.

"You willing to bet on that?" she asked, standing.

"Yeah, I am."

Alya stuck out her hand, then pulled him up as they shook on it.

It was only when they started to turn to come into the building that Adrien realized he shouldn't have been eavesdropping while standing in the dead center of an empty hallway. There was nothing to hide him from the surprised eyes of his friends.

Alya was the first to recover, her expression quickly slipping to suspicion. "How much of that did you hear?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"Nothing!" he said, hands up. "I didn't-"

"Did you hear the news?" Nino cut in.

"N-no? What are you talking about?"

"The Olympic Committee voted."

"About?" Adrien asked. He tried to forget… whatever they'd been talking about.

"eGames are in for Paris 2024!"

"Seriously?" Adrien asked. "I thought they voted against that last month."

Nino ignored the comment and held out a hand for a high-five, but it was more like a middle five, limp and unenthusiastic. Nino glanced toward Alya, and they shared a smile.

"I bet I could get us tickets easy," Adrien said, pulling Nino's attention away from his girlfriend. "Want to come-"

Nino snapped back to attention, eyes gleaming. "You should sign up for the team."

"I should what?" Adrien asked, bewildered by his friend's sudden change in tone. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm not that good."

"No really, dude." Nino grabbed his arm. "I think you could do it." He threw an arm around Adrien's shoulder, turned him around and marched him deeper into the school.

"No thanks?" Adrien let himself be steered into a crowded hallway, Alya stalking behind them, her eyes burning into his back. "I'd need more practice than I have time for. Some of those gamers-"

"All you need-" Nino guided them around a group of upperclassmen. "-is a partner to practice with."

What was going on? Adrien knew he was kind of sheltered and maybe a little socially awkward, but he knew Nino well enough at this point that he could tell he was trying to set something up. "I get it. You want an excuse to play on my system every day. But you know my father-"

"Oh, no way, man. I'm not good enough." They stepped through a pair of double doors and out into the morning sunshine of the courtyard. Students laughed and yelled at each other. Others lounged on the stairs going up to the second floor. Nino's hand on his shoulder tightened and they stopped moving. "But maybe there's someone-"

"Yeah," Alya cut in. She shoved her way in between them and pointed to the middle of the courtyard, toward a tight cluster of students. "I bet Marinette would want to practice with you."

Adrien followed the line of Alya's finger. Marinette's dark hair and bright smile peeked out from the center of the group. As usual, she was surrounded by admirers, all of whom were laughing at something she had just said. His stomach clenched, though he wasn't sure why.

"You're kidding, right? She's one of the most popular girls in school."

"Did you miss the memo, sunshine?" Alya said. "You're pretty popular yourself."

"And the four of us hang out together all the time," Nino said. "I'm sure she would love to spend some time with just you."

"I don't even think I want to be in the Olympics," Adrien said, turning away from Marinette and glancing at his other friends. There was definitely something going on. Nino and Alya traded sideways glances and wiggling eyebrows, communicating something Adrien couldn't figure out.

"You really should ask Marinette to practice with you, dude," Nino said.

"No, I don't think-"

"Come on, Agreste." Alya stepped up into his space. Not that he could ever tell Nino this, but his girlfriend could be scary when she wanted to be. She was somehow towering over him, even though he could have sworn a few seconds ago that he was taller than she was. "You want a gold medal, don't you?"

"No?"

"Yes, you do. Now go ask Marinette."

"This isn't even about the Olympics, is it?"

Alya nudged him through the open door and into the light. Adrien blinked, disoriented by the sudden movement and the direction his morning had taken.

"Get moving," Alya insisted.

"Okay, okay! I'll ask her!" he said. His plan to skirt around Marinette's knot of students and escape to the other edge of the courtyard was shot down when his friends' footsteps crunched behind him. They weren't going to let him get away.

Feeling their eyes on him, Adrien weaved his way through the students that filled the yard, hoping the bell would ring and give him an excuse to abandon his quest. What was really happening here?

Guys and girls alike were leaning over Marinette's shoulder, and as he got closer he could tell the laughter was due to something on the sketch pad she was holding. Her smile and the light hitting her hair just right made her glow. Her eyes sparkled.

And Adrien stopped moving.

There was no way he could approach her with this many people around. What was he going to say, anyway? Hey, I think our friends are terrible and plotting something against me, and I'm going to regret asking later, but will you please play video games with me? It sounded stupid even in his head.

A single, sharp fingernail between his shoulder blades reminded him that he had no choice in the matter, so he stepped forward, excusing himself through the crowd of Marinette's admirers, until he was close enough to grab her elbow and borrow her attention.

"A-a-adrien?" she asked, stuttering when her bright eyes found his. "How you- uh, what?"

"Can we play video games later?" Ugh. This was even worse out loud than it had been in his head. "Um, the Olympics are coming up later. And we should practice." Yes, that was an eloquent explanation. Very smooth.

Marinette's eyes went wide in a doe-eyed stare, like she couldn't believe he'd ask her such a thing. "Oh." Her voice shook. "Th-tho nank you. No thank you! I don't-" She glanced behind him, over his shoulder. "I mean, yes! I would love to!" She stared at his feet and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

Adrien glanced quickly behind him. Nino and Alya were standing a little way away, looking far too innocent. Alya examined her fingernails. Nino was gazing all around the courtyard, not fixing on any one point, his face blank. So they were bullying Marinette into it, too? Whatever they were planning, he wasn't going to let them make her uncomfortable.

"You don't have to," he told her quickly, and her head snapped back up to his. "I mean, it's probably a stupid idea. If you don't want to, I understand. It's kind of a weird idea. And I think the Olympics are dumb and, I mean, you probably like them, so-"

"No," she said quickly, mercifully cutting him off. She reached out to grab his arm, but pulled back just before her fingers brushed his skin. It was close enough to raise goosebumps.

"I do want to practice with you," Marinette said.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Really," she said, putting enough force into it that she sounded almost convincing.

"Okay," he said, skeptical. She must have so many friends and demands on her attention. She was really going to make time for one-on-one time for him? "I have a free two hours before my piano lessons tomorrow. I'll ask if you can come over."

"I'm free then!"

After her initial hesitation, he was surprised to hear her so excited. What was really going on? "Then, that's good, I guess. Sounds... good. Great."

"Great," she echoed.

The bell rang. Relieved, Adrien walked off through the shuffling crowd, pushing through sharp elbows and heavy backpacks and toward Nino and Alya, who were muttering to each other, their heads close together, and not paying him any attention.

Alya was whispering as he approached. He only caught a soft, "They're going to be-" before she noticed him and walked off.

"Bro, please make me lose." Nino adjusted the headphones around his neck.

"You want to lose? What, a bet?"

"Can't say," Nino said. "It's important, though. You've got a month."

If Adrien was confused before, he was stumped now. The only thing he was sure of was that this had nothing to do with the Committee vote or video games. Was Marinette in on it or was she his fellow victim?

Now that he didn't need the bell to save him from anything, it happily rang the beginning of class. Dozens of shoes shuffled down the hallways. Friends called out to each other. Adrien trailed far behind Marinette on his way to their class. Her pigtails bounced to her enthusiastic step.

What was really happening?

***

A week later, Adrien didn't really care what the motivation behind the practice sessions had been. He was having too much fun. In a stunning display of paternal affection, Gabriel had allowed Adrien to set up regular video gaming sessions with Marinette. Or Nathalie had put it into his schedule and not mentioned it to his father. Probably the second one, though he liked to pretend.

Today, they were up in his room, being washed in the music of Mario Kart that they were playing on his gigantic television. Adrien sat up straight on the couch, toes digging into the plush carpet, and pouring his focus onto the screen, but Marinette was draped across the furniture, one foot dragging on the floor, the other accidentally poking his knee whenever one of them leaned into a turn.

In the past few days, a remarkable change had come over Marinette. Instead of being anxious and fidgety whenever they ran into each other at school, the hours of being together had forced her to grow relaxed around him. It was amazing to see the side of her that everyone else so admired shining out of her when she was with him, instead of it being trapped under her awkward stutter like it used to be. He loved this.

As he rounded the final turn, Marinette on his tail, he squeezed the controller even harder, though his character was already going at top speed. A squirt of black ink blocked out his half of the screen.

"No!" he yelled, trying to negotiate the curve while blind. "I forgot you had that one! I thought you were out!"

Marinette didn't leave her position on the couch until she'd crossed the finish line. When she did, she jumped up and crowed her victory. "I beat you again! Admit it! You're going to cry yourself to sleep tonight because I creamed you so bad!"

Adrien wiped away a fake tear with her controller and was rewarded with one of Marinette's soft giggles. The sound was infectious, and soon his laughter joined hers. This was the way a lot of their games ended. Win or lose, they were both happy, just because they enjoyed each other's company.

Adrien's suspicions had melted away over the past few days. Nino and Alya were dating, and they wanted their best friends to spend time together. That must have been it. He had to admit, he loved the idea.

And he loved that she was comfortable enough with him to be the person he saw her be with other people, bold and funny and expressive, somehow kind and fierce at the same time, ready to compliment him or trash talk him at a moment's notice. It kept him on his toes.

While the question of why it had taken her so long to warm up to him nagged at him, it wasn't enough to keep him from acknowledging that he was much happier when she was around.

"So what do you want to play next?" Marinette slid off the couch and pulled out his collection of games.

"Shovel of Hope," he said quickly.

"I usually pick that one," she said, turning to direct a questioning eyebrow his way.

"It is. And I want you to be happy, so we can play your favorites twice in a row."

A slack look of shock was replaced quickly by Marinette's shy smile, and Adrien's heart flipped.

He'd always known she had a nice smile. So why did it seem like a new revelation just now?

***

If Adrien's observation about their first week together was how much he liked Marinette, then observation about the second week was how much his game had improved.

Marinette's skill on most games was just a little higher than his own, so playing against her was always a challenge, and teaming up with her was always instructive. Of course, her teasing continually spurred him on.

Today they were in her room playing Zombie Fighter 2, which he'd never even heard of before. And it showed. After seven rounds, he had failed to land a single hit on Marinette's character. He went down in a shower of sparks.

"KO'd again! I can't believe it!" Adrien tossed his controller into his lap. He noticed every time his left knee brushed her right as they sat cross-legged on her chaise.

"Your skills are improving, young grasshopper," Marinette said.

"How is losing improving?"

"You lasted a whole ten seconds longer than last time. You're learning how to run away."

Adrien socked her in the face with a pink pillow. He'd been in her room a handful of times now and he still couldn't get over how pink everything was. Walls, curtains, blankets, even furniture. It suited her, though.

Marinette stood up and stretched. A small strip of skin peeked out where her shirt rode up. "We should head downstairs. Your driver will be here soon."

"No." Adrien averted his gaze quickly. "Let's play one more!" The warmth of Marinette's room wasn't something he looked forward to leaving, not when his own sterile, empty room was the only thing waiting to welcome him home.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said. "Can't get enough of me, or can't get enough of being pounded into the ground, I wonder?"

"Jury's out."

"Ouch! Why do I keep you around, again?" she asked.

"Must be because I'm so cute." Adrien selected his character, and the screen lit up with another round.

"Must be." Marinette ruffled his hair.

Adrien sat up a little straighter. Was it the praise? Or was it her touch? When she took her hand away, it was to fix his grip on the controller.

"You're never going to win like that. Your fingers aren't spread out enough. Like this." She adjusted each finger individually, pushing and poking and smoothing each one into place until they curved just so.

Her hands radiated warmth. But not just that. It felt like... kindness? Caring? How was he getting that from just the feel of her fingertips against his wrists, directing him to relax the sudden tension in his arms?

By the time she pulled away and they started playing, Adrien's hands were shaking. He pulled them deeper into his lap, so she wouldn't see the tremors.

What was happening? And why did he feel like Marinette touching him again was going to make him feel better? Whatever it was, it wasn't helping him win.

"That'll teach me to compliment you," Marinette said after cutting down his avatar with ease. "That was awful. What happened?"

"Just tired, I guess," Adrien said, putting his controller between them and flapping his hands, like they were sweaty or cramping or something else normal.

"Tired, huh? I can play better than that in my sleep! So what's the real reason?"

"Tired. That's really the reason."

"Tired of getting beat, maybe."

"Oh, lay off."

"Make me."

He needed something to do with the nervous energy in his hands, and Marinette was asking for it. When he poked her side, she made the most adorable squeal he'd ever heard, and he had to do it again. The tickle fight that ensued was nothing short of inevitable. She tried to reach for the pillow on the floor to defend herself with, but he took the opportunity to poke her side and she tumbled off the chaise and pulled him with her. It wasn't enough to stop him.

"I surrender!" Marinette gasped after only a few seconds. "You win!"

"You admit I'm better at something than you?"

"No, your arms are just longer, like a monkey's." She laughed even before she felt his retaliation tickle for the jibe.

As their laughter subsided, Adrien felt lighter. He hadn't had fun with a friend like this in he couldn't remember how long. His father always made him feel foolish for finding something mildly amusing. Somehow, Marinette made falling off his seat liberating instead of embarrassing. He loved that about her.

Sprawled out as they were, it took Adrien a few seconds before he noticed where his hand was resting. Right on Marinette's soft stomach. She was smiling up the ceiling, not seeming to notice or care that he was touching her. It felt nice.

But it was probably weird. He was being weird.

So why was he not moving?

His hand moved up and down with her breathing, rhythmic and calming. Would she stop him if he slid his fingers along the fabric and felt the texture of her shirt?

He kept his hands still until she sighed deeply, and then he guiltily removed it.

***

It had been the best month of Adrien's life, and he owed it all to the girl who was walking toward him. The school courtyard was packed with students going home for the day. Backpacks hung off shoulders. People shouted to each other. Heads bobbed up and down as they tried to find their friends in the crowd.

Marinette's small build made it difficult for her to push her way through the crowd, but shoved backpacks and used her elbows and finally reached him. He was touched by the effort that she made to be near him.

"Nino and Alya coming?" he asked.

"Over there," she said, nodding toward the couple. "You ready to head out? My dad promised croissants for all of us today, and I'm very done with school right now."

It wasn't easy to pick out their friends in the mass of students, but he finally found them by the stairs, heads together like they were whispering despite the noise.

"What are they talking about?"

Marinette sighed. "The, uh, that bet." She looked sideways at him, like she was hoping he'd say something about it.

"Oh," Adrien said, racking his brain for scraps of memory. "Nino won, right? He said it was going to take over a month." For someone who won a bet, he didn't look very happy about it. The two looked over at him at the same time and frowned. Well, Nino frowned. Alya glowered.

"Technically, Alya's got until the end of the day but... yeah." Her voice became very quiet. Small and sad. "Nino's going to win."

"I never learned what that was about," he said, hoping she would provide an answer to the mystery.

Marinette just shook her head and started fidgeting with her purse strap to avoid looking at him. "L-let's wait for them," she stammered.

That wasn't a good sign. He didn't want to push her into her old habit of not being able to hold a conversation with him, so he didn't ask again. "Sure, we can wait," he said, taking a step to the side to give her some space. "It looks like they're on their way over already."

Nino and Alya approached with fake smiles plastered on their faces, like nothing had happened. Neither greeted Adrien or Marinette when they reached them, just kept walking toward the doors. The crowd thickened the closer to the door they got. Students pushed to get out of the building, and Adrien quickly lost sight of Nino and Alya somewhere ahead of him. He and Marinette squeezed through the doors and finally made it out onto the stairs.

"Oh no!" Marinette pulled at her hair as they started down the stairs.

"What?" Adrien asked, shuffling behind a red backpack that was going much slower than it needed to.

"Nothing, nothing. I just broke an elastic again." Keeping one fist in her hair to hold the pigtail in place, she fished in her purse for another one. Their pace became a crawl as she searched.

"Just wear it down," Adrien suggested.

"I'll look stupid," she said, giving up the search in favor of digging in her pockets.

"Come on, you'll look fine," he said, trying to convince her so they could catch back up to the others. He could see them waiting by the crosswalk, backs to them. "I've never seen your hair down before."

Marinette half turned to him, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "All right," she finally said, letting it fall and taking out the other side to match. She brushed it out with her fingers as they finished walking down the stairs.

She looked nice like that. Really nice. A piece of him thought he should probably tell her that, so she wouldn't feel self-conscious. The rest of him was just glad Alya and Nino weren't looking at them, so they couldn't see him gaping at Marinette like a vulture.

That was when his hands started trembling. The nervous energy was back, urging him to reach out and touch her. Maybe tuck that stray strand of hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger by her cheek, his fingertips graze her jaw. But he didn't want her to pull away again, so he clenched his fists and tried to remind himself that there was no reason for him to be acting this weird around her.

"I feel like everyone is staring at me," she said after only a few seconds.

Well, I don't know about everyone. At least one person is. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. Students started breaking away from the main group, escaping down the sidewalk toward their homes. Nino and Alya had finally noticed their approach.

"My hair must look stupid. I knew it!" She threw her hands on top of her head, a combination of covering herself and patting it down to lie smooth.

"They're only staring because you're so beautiful."

Adrien and Marinette stopped and stared at each other. Alya and Nino stared at the pair of them. A light turned green and cars streamed past, the wind they created making Marinette's hair dance.

Marinette looked as surprised at his words as he felt. But it was true. He'd never thought about it before, but she was probably the prettiest person he'd ever met. Inside and out.

When the initial shock wore off after three seconds, Marinette hunched her shoulders. "Oh, w-w-well, y-you th-thank."

Panic settled over him as she stuttered. He'd messed up somehow. She was nervous. He'd made her uncomfortable. He was weird and made her feel weird, and he'd messed everything up. She was upset.

He opened his mouth to apologize – he had no idea how to apologize for giving an honest compliment but he knew he had to try – but the look on her face froze his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Shock and disbelief, warring with curiosity. But they were all replaced with the familiar crinkle in her eyes that meant a challenge was sure to follow.

"So your true feelings come out at last," she said in delight. "Sorry, but I can't get involved with my sparring partner, so don't ask."

"What-"

"No, no. Your begging won't work on me!" She pushed him away with one hand flat against his chest.

Could she feel his heart beating through his shirt? She must have been able to. The whirlwind shift in her attitude was making him nervous.

He looked at Nino and Alya for help at this sudden change. They were both open-mouthed.

That was when it clicked. She was just teasing him again. Or more likely daring him. He knew her well enough to know that tone when he heard it, the same when she offered a bonus challenge round. That compliment had been sincere, but he knew how to play along.

"Oh please, Marinette," he said, falling to his knees. "Your grace and beauty surpass all." The words were so easy to say. Too easy. "Make me the happiest boy in school and go out with me?" He clasped his hands and unleashed the most pitiful expression he knew how to make, not sure if he was even acting.

Marinette flipped her loose hair over her shoulder. "I could never give my heart to my most bitter rival."

"Noooo!" He threw his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her stomach. He heard more than felt her laughter, but inside he ached. Ached as she ran her fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck and then because she pulled her hand away. Ached because it felt so good to be close to her and then because he was letting her go as he stood back up. It was all he could do not to let the ache show through his fake smile as he continued the "joke."

Nino had his face in hands. "I hate both of you," he mumbled through his fingers. "So, so much."

Alya had already given up on them. She was halfway to the bakery.

"That's unfair," Marinette said, shifting her backpack and not looking at Adrien like he wished she would. "This is completely Adrien's fault."

"Mine?" he said, trying to sound scandalized instead of bitterly disappointed. "You're the one who won't go out with me."

She opened her mouth to respond, only to pause when she saw his face. He tried to school his expression, hide the new emotions pulsing through his blood, replace it with a smirk and a wink.

It must have worked because Marinette tapped his nose and said, "Sorry, Adrien. You'll have to ask me again some other time. I'm too busy being single at the moment."

The words cut deeper than they had any right to.

Nino grumbled something and turned away. Across the street, Alya shouted, "Are you two done being stupid yet?"

It seemed like Marinette was the only one who was truly happy after the joke, though he thought he saw something else flash across her face as she looked away. He wanted to pretend that it was longing or maybe regret, but he knew that couldn't be true. Marinette considered him just a friend. They had only been joking.

No, she had been joking. Everything he'd said was real. Why hadn't he realized it sooner?

His compliments, all the praise, asking her out, every single word of it had been real.

The ache settled deep into his heart.

***

The next morning, Adrien arrived at school a few minutes earlier than he normally would have, heart pounding and exhausted as he walked through the front doors. The exhaustion was caused by barely sleeping at all last night, instead being consumed with thoughts of Marinette, her confidence, her hair, her laughter, her quiet beauty, her kindness, and how much he wanted to touch her and spend time with her.

It hadn't even been 24 hours since he'd realized he was in love with her, but it spread through him like an wildfire, burning him up from the inside out, reaching through every part of him and carving out new places for thoughts of Marinette to inhabit, driving him to do something, anything so he could be with her.

His pounding heart was caused by that last bit, the knowledge that he now needed to act. His plan was simple, but he ran through it again anyway as he waited by her locker. As casually as he could, he was going to ask her out. But not on a date. Not yet. If she didn't like him that way (the "if" killed him; he knew she didn't), he wasn't going to mess up his chance by playing his hand too soon. He repeated his line over and over again. "I was just wondering if you'd like to do something other than video games with me some time?"

It was simple. It was normal friend stuff. He leaned against her locker, the cool metal soothing the voice that said she was going to say no, that he was an idiot for even asking her. After joking around yesterday, it was clear that she only thought of him as her weird gaming nerd friend. Why would she want to do other things with him?

But he had to try anyway. If she said yes, it would be a step in the right direction. He would be able to spend more time with her.

Though he tried not to, Adrien watched every person who entered the hallway, waiting for her. His heart leaped to his throat every time he saw black hair, and it crashed back down to his feet every time it wasn't hers.

If she said no, well, he would accept his place as just her gaming buddy, even though it would break his heart. And he could always pretend that their practice sessions were dates, right? Besides, he'd known her for over a year and he'd been okay with being only friends that entire time. It would probably be simple to find his way back to that easy, uncomplicated friendship.

He slipped a little farther down the cold locker door. His argument was very unconvincing, and he swallowed back the tightness in his throat at the idea.

Black hair bobbed into view, and this time it was Marinette's face underneath it. Blue eyes flashing. Smiling broadly at someone who wasn't him.

Excitement and terror washed through him. Her laughter echoed down the hall ahead of her, and he basked in the sound and sight of her. Would he even be able to speak by the time she finally saw him?

Marinette hadn't noticed him yet. She was talking with someone else, and Adrien's eyes flicked to her companion.

Nathaniel was laughing too, then laughing harder at something else Marinette said. Without hesitation, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug. Marinette looked content as they walked ever closer to her locker, and that's when Adrien finally accepted the truth.

She was going to say no.

And he couldn't accept just being friends.

With only seconds to make up his mind before she saw him, Adrien did the only thing he could think of.

He ran away.

***

Today's practice was taking place cross-legged on his floor, staring up at his giant television. Marinette sat with him, a six-inch gap separating them, but she looked over at him from time to time, concerned at his silence.

Over the past week, Adrien hadn't given up hope completely, though he knew he should have. Marinette didn't like him that way and was way out of his league. The knowledge didn't stop him from agonizing over the perfect thing to say that would get her to change her mind, or at least give him a chance.

In the end, he had waited too long.

Though he was trying to act like everything was fine, the jealousy ripping through him was affecting his mood, his game, even his face, and had been chewing him up all afternoon. For the millionth time, he tried smoothing out his scowl. He'd already given up trying to shake life back into his numb hands.

B, up, duck, A. Button smashing when he knew he wasn't fast enough. Finally watching as his avatar felt defeated to the mat. Again. He took a shaky breath.

"Okay, what is going on?" Marinette asked, placing her controller carefully down in front of her, lining it up perfectly parallel to her knees. "You're making a lot of rookie mistakes. It isn't like you."

"Oh, just tired," Adrien said, making a show of stretching and lolling back.

"You told me this morning you'd slept really well last night," she said flatly.

"Oh." Right. He'd said that. Shoot. "Tired... from school."

"Okay... What was so-"

Adrien started a new round, forcing Marinette to scramble for her controller and cut off her interrogation.

It was only going to buy him time. If Marinette thought someone was upset, he knew she wasn't going to let it rest until she'd helped them feel better. It was one of many, many things that he loved about her. But he also knew he'd be better off bringing it up before she did, so he could steer the conversation.

They played for a few minutes in silence while Adrien's character was annihilated and he organized his thoughts. "So..." he finally asked, and he was pleased to hear his voice sounding almost normal, not tense like he felt. "What did Nathaniel want to talk to you privately about earlier?"

Adrien knew. She probably knew that he knew.

Nathaniel had asked her out. Adrien had been too slow, and now she was someone else's girlfriend. Could she read the agony on his face underneath the mask of disinterest?

"Oh, Nathaniel asked me for a date." How could she be so calm about the thing that was causing him to die inside? Sensing his distress, his avatar also keeled over and died. Round sixteen ended in defeat.

"Oh? That's..." He gulped. What question would just a friend ask? "When's the big-" He forced the word out. "-date?" That had sounded awful. The words and his delivery.

"I turned him down," she said casually, and just as casually she slaughtered his character again.

The next round began as Adrien blurted out a thrilled, "Really?!"

Marinette's character killed itself by jumping off the edge as she dropped her controller and turned to stare at him.

Adrien cleared his throat. "Really? Too bad for him, I guess." I'm cool about this, Marinette. Not interested in you or your love life at all. His unasked question hung over them: Why did she turn Nathaniel down? He couldn't bring himself to ask.

She continued to stare, considering him, then turned away with a smile she couldn't quite hold in. "I've wiped the floor with you for the past eighteen levels. You want to go again, or are you ready to admit your defeat?”

"And let you rub it in for the rest of our lives? I don't think so."

"I promise not to if you agree to do my homework for the rest of the year."

"I would absolutely love to never do that ever. Bring on level nineteen."

"Oh, that's what I was hoping you would say." Her glance was sly, and Adrien felt a challenge coming on.

Their characters were whirls of pixels, but this time he had no problem keeping up. She'd turned Nathaniel down! Adrien was back on form, matching Marinette stroke for stroke, about to pull out his first win since-

"I bet you were wondering why I said no." Marinette's avatar slipped a punch over his slack fists, knocking him down to half health with one blow. "It's because I already like someone else." With one more kick, she finished him off.

Adrien gripped his controller, not seeing the screen or even her as the next level started playing. Of course she already liked someone. Someone as loving as Marinette would have someone she loved. He'd never even had a chance, even before he'd wanted one. He was an idiot for not realizing.

"Complete devastation!" Marinette said. She meant his character, but she could have been talking about the boy sitting next to her. Both were crumbling to the ground.

The practice session ended early that day. Marinette sent him several questioning looks over the next hour that he stubbornly ignored, and he was glad she didn't push him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand her sympathy.

Like the gentleman he was, Adrien walked her to his bedroom door. Even with the awkward tension lingering in the air, he wanted her to stay a little longer. Maybe sensing that, or maybe just still hoping to cheer him up, Marinette hesitated in front of the closed doorway.

Adrien opened his mouth to speak, but when he realized he had no idea what it was he wanted to say, he shut it again slowly. Marinette waited patiently, playing with the hem of her shirt. What could he tell her? Nothing that would help his situation. Nothing that would change her mind about whatever wonderful guy she had her eye on. Nothing that would make her consider her dork of a gaming partner.

Marinette smiled up at him. After the miserable company he'd been all afternoon, she still felt like smiling at him? He almost blurted all his feelings out anyway.

"Well..." she said. "I should go."

Pushing herself up on her toes so she could reach and putting her hands on his shoulders for balance, Marinette placed an unexpected kiss on his cheek, just next to his mouth.

Adrien closed his eyes at the tender touch, heart melting.

I could turn my head, he thought as her lips lingered. I could wrap my arms around her and never let go. The scene was vivid in his mind, her hands slipping from his shoulders to his chest, fingertips tracing the stripes across his shirt. Whispers of how much she loved him. Him pulling Marinette close, her wanting him to.

But it wasn't real. She wouldn't like that, he reminded himself, so he kept still. His hands gripped his jeans to keep them from seeking her out.

When she pulled away a few seconds later, her look was intense. Despite her announced intention to leave, she hesitated. Waiting for something. For him to say something?

The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. Confess! He could do it!

He could, but he shouldn't. She'd just admitted to liking someone else. How disrespectful of her confession would telling her now be? Adrien didn't want to lose her.

"See you tomorrow?" he said, pulling the door open for her.

She frowned, not like she was angry. Like she'd been disappointed. Without another word, she slipped through the door and padded down the wide atrium stairs. He didn't take his eyes off her the whole time, but she didn't turn around to see it. From his spot so far away, he heard the front door click softly behind her.

He stayed put long after she'd gone, replaying the kiss in his mind, what her soft lips felt like, the tingle he'd felt as she'd rested her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, the heat of having her body so close to his.

Had it been all his imagination, telling him what he wanted, or had her kiss really been that close to his mouth? It had felt like she'd almost touched his lips she'd been so close.

The memory was still fresh on his skin, and he outlined the spot hesitantly, then with awe as his finger brushed the corner of his mouth. It wasn't his imagination. She really had.

Maybe... maybe he had misunderstood. Hope bubbled up inside him. She liked someone else, someone other than Nathaniel. He wasn't Nathaniel. What if she'd meant him?

What if he did have a chance after all?

***

Adrien wanted to be absolutely sure. Getting his hopes up again, or listening to Marinette's rejection, would be too painful. He was going to make sure he was the one, so he spent the next week looking for clues that he was the lucky boy she'd set her sights on.

And clues were everywhere.

They were mostly little things, like the way her face would light up when he came around a corner, or how she leaned into his touch when he dared to brush her bangs out of her eyes, or how she didn't scoot away if he sat down close to her.

Four days later, in the middle of a hard level, he experimentally touched his hand to her knee, keeping the pressure as light as he could, in case it wasn't wanted. She scooted closer, like she wanted to make it easier for him to do it again.

Marinette knew about his strict diet and would often bring him goodies, leftovers from the bakery. The following day, she'd brought him ones she'd made herself "with love." That's what she said. The big L word. A small part of him told him to calm down. She could have meant that she loved him as a friend. Most of him excitedly took it as an obvious hint.

Overall, his second favorite hint of her feelings was how she glowed under his compliments.

"These pastries are the best things I've ever tasted! Could you teach me to make them?" Marinette stumbled over her words for the next five minutes.

"Forget competing in the Olympics," he said two days later. "You could be the team coach. You're amazing!" She blushed for the rest of the day.

The best hint, the one that left him reeling, was becoming a common occurrence: she talked to him. Lately, their practice sessions would be filled with long stretches when they chatted about everything and nothing, controllers abandoned.

Today, she lounged on his couch, and he sat on the floor by her head. She'd asked him about his day, and he'd listened to hers, though she admitted herself that it was boring. She'd asked him about his day, then about his dreams for the future.

The honest curiosity she had for his answers, the fact that she even cared, left him leaning the couch for support. Marinette was on her back and smiled up at him as the movement brought him closer.

The conversation hit a lull when he ran out of things to say. Instead of feeling awkward, it was peaceful, and she closed her eyes and sighed.

What a perfect time to test her feelings for him again. Before he could think better of it, he ran his fingers through her hair. Her reaction was immediate. Her whole body relaxed, her smile widening. When she opened her eyes to look up at him, they were soft, maybe even loving.

But the "maybe" was still too daunting, and he pulled his hand back and looked away.

He needed to tell her how he felt. He liked her too much not to. He wanted her to look at him like that all the time. So why was he pulling out the controllers again to avoid her? Was it really better to wait and see what happened? Or should he just lay his heart bare right now?

He settled on the couch next to her, Marinette bending her knees to give him room without moving from her spot. Was she still giving him that loving look? Or had it turned into a frown because he was being a coward? He hunched forward under the weight of all his questions, resting his forearms on his knees.

"I bet I could beat you in my sleep," Marinette said. Her voice sounded normal, so he dared to look at her. Her face was mischievous as she stretched out with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her legs across his lap and pinning his arms down. "Care to bet against me?"

"Um, move. I need those arms."

"Make me."

Two more hints: the ease with which she touched him, and the way she seemed to save her most dazzling smiles just for him.

"Make you?" Massive crush or not, Adrien was not about to pass up a challenge. "I'll make you."

Marinette settled deeper into the cushions, pressing down onto his arms. It was the best trap he'd even been in, and he couldn't reach much to help him, just the coffee table in front of them. Leftover snacks littered the table, along with a half-filled glass of water. He slid it off the edge of the couch as Marinette squirmed to keep him in place.

With his limited movement, he couldn't lift the cup very high, so he mimed pouring it over her shins. She shrieked and kicked him in her scramble to get out of the way, and the glass spun out of his hand, splashing water all over him before landing on the floor. It soaked into his shirt and dripped through his hair.

"I'm sorry!" Marinette jumped up immediately, flapping her arms around her head so fast they blurred. "I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine," he assured her while rivulets of water tickled his down scalp. "It wasn't that much water."

She groaned at the lie. "I'll go get you a towel."

Before he could protest, she ran toward the bathroom door. Adrien followed her, dripping. "It was my fault. Please don't-"

A fluffy towel muffled his words as she threw it over his head and started rubbing it into his hair. "Marinette," he mumbled. "You don't have t-" The pace of her hands became less frantic as she moved from the crown of his head, moving down to dry the back.

"Sorry," she whispered. Her tempo became even slower as she worked the sides of his heads, rubbing gently so she wouldn't hurt his ears. Plans to "accidentally" get himself soaked on a weekly basis were already starting to form in his mind. He wasn't sure if it was the attention she was paying him or her rhythmic pace as she stroked circles around his ears, but every muscle in his body seemed to be melting.

"Is that any better?" she asked. Her hands stilled, but she didn't remove the towel from his face. Her breathing was quick and shallow.

Adrien lifted up the edge to reveal Marinette's panicked face. What did she think? That he was going to hate her because of some water? He wasn't a cat.

Her eyes searched his, looking for anger or rejection or who knew what, and he gently grabbed her face with both hands to bring her back to reality. And as an excuse to act out at least the beginning of every fantasy he had about kissing her. With the way she was looking at him, he could even pretend that they were about to come true.

"It's fine," he said, rubbing a thumb across her cheek. "I'm all dry now." A cold spot was soaking through at his shoulder, but he ignored it.

After a few more seconds of wide-eyed staring, Marinette slid the towel off his head and looped it behind his neck, holding onto both ends and giving no indication that she wanted him to remove his hands. So he didn't.

Another clue. It finally was enough. He knew.

Leaning in slowly, so she would have time to change her mind, he looked at her lips, then raised an eyebrow in question. Marinette used the towel to pull him closer to her, closing her eyes. A rush of heat swooped in his stomach when he felt her body brush against him. Her breath fanned his face as he inched closer. They hovered, anticipation building, noses brushing, lips quivering, until he tilted his head and finally closed his eyes.

Without warning, the door swung open. "Adrien."

Marinette and Adrien jumped apart, the towel falling on the floor.

Nathalie walked in, staring at her tablet and almost ignoring the teenagers she was speaking to. She hadn't noticed anything. "Your piano teacher is here. Ms. Dupain-Cheng's ride is waiting downstairs." Without another word, or even looking around the room for them, she left, leaving the door open after her.

"Um," Adrien said. Cursing the interruption, he bent to pick up the towel. When he straightened he reached out for Marinette's hand, but she was already across the room, picking up her things and not looking at him, her face glowing red.

She snuck him a peek once as she was putting her shoes back on, but when she saw him staring at her, she looked down again. Probably because he was gaping at her like an idiot.

Marinette finally walked back over to him, eyeing the wet spot on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-

"Want a hug?" he asked, offering his arms. "It's nice and cold."

She chuckled as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his. "Thanks for having me over." Her breath blew his hair, tickling him. "And for letting me beat you."

"Oh, yes," he said. The hug didn't feel cold at all. It was warming him up from head to toe. "I lost on purpose, just for you." How was he supposed to just let her walk out his door, when all he wanted to do was hold her and never move from this spot again? "Because your happiness is so important to me."

As she pulled away and stepped back, he grabbed her hand, and then just as quickly let it go, unsure how to recreate the mood that had so quickly evaporated.

They waited, neither moving, Adrien hoping for at least another goodbye kiss like she'd given him last week. Without warning her expression crumpled, and she walked through the door without saying goodbye at all.

She'd been waiting, he realized as soon as she was gone. She'd been waiting for a goodbye kiss, too.

Adrien ran to the window in time to watch her walk down the front steps. He followed her with his eyes as she slid into the car. When she turned to pull the door closed behind her, she paused, looking straight at him. He waved, but she shut it without returning the gesture.

"Tomorrow," he vowed. It was Saturday, and they had another practice in the morning. The first words out of his mouth were going to be his confession.

He just needed to figure out what to say.

***

Saturday mornings used to mean stifling isolation. There was no school to look forward to. His tutors often had the day off, and if there wasn't a photoshoot, he was likely to be confined to his room. Another benefit of having Marinette in his life was that he was no longer alone on the oppressive weekends.

"You're smart, and kind, and funny." Adrien muttered to himself in the back seat, his driver occasionally looking at him with concern through the rearview mirror. He'd been rehearsing multiple versions of his speech since last night. It was only a few minutes until he saw her, and he still hadn't decided what to say. Should he just blurt it out? "Marinette, I love you." Or should he build up to it? "I've loved spending time with you, and you're my best friend, and lately you've become more than that." He tested them both out. They were both fine, so why did they both sound so... wrong?

Maybe he wasn't being specific enough. Anyone could tell her she was great. So what should he say about her specifically? This only led him back to all the other lists of rehearsed lines he'd come up with in the last 12 hours, her confidence, her infectious joy, her compassion...

The car pulled up to the curb, and Adrien stepped out, knees a little wobbly with anxiety. He was going to have to just wing it. Say what felt right in the moment. Which was a terrifying idea, but now he had no choice.

The bell tinkled and the smell of fresh bread and chocolate chip cookies filled his nose as soon as he pushed open the bakery door. Sabine and Tom turned to him with wide smiles.

"She's already waiting for you," Sabine said, waving him through the door to their upstairs apartment. "Have fun!"

His footsteps seemed to echo through the small hallway. Hesitating only a second, he knocked on the door that led into her living room, and waited, heart pounding.

Marinette, I have something to tell you. Marinette, I love you. Marinette, before we start to play, can we talk? He'd promised himself. The first words out of his mouth would be his confession. Don't mess it up, Adrien. Just tell her you love her.

The door was yanked inward so fast that it hit the wall. Adrien jumped. "M-marinette. I lo-"

"I've got a new idea! Come here!" She reached through the doorway and clamped down on his wrist, then turned and towed him through the living room and up her stairs. A woman on a mission.

He had no idea what that mission was, or what really was happening, so his imagination started supplying possibilities. She got a new game? She needed to show him her newest art project? He tripped on the top step when he thought that maybe she was dragging him up to her room because she couldn't wait to kiss him.

He imagined her snapping the trapdoor shut, with the pink curtains closed and her room dimly lit by filtered light. She would let go of his hand, then turn around to face him, before slowly stepping into his space. She'd slide her hands up his shirt, stopping at the collar, grabbing fistfuls to pull herself closer. And closer. Their faces were millimeters apart. He could count the lashes of her half-closed eyes. He reached for her eagerly, wrapping both arms around her waist, pulling her closer, her stomach flush against him.

"I love you," she whispered. "You're the only one for me." Her lips parted slightly as her eyes slid shut.

Marinette's voice was suddenly bright and cheery. "Pick your favorite button!"

Adrien's daydream popped.

Sunlight flooded her room through uncovered windows. Her trapdoor was still open, as her parents had always requested, and she waited for an answer expectantly, bouncing on her toes and not looking smitten in the slightest.

"Uh, what?"

"Buttons," she repeated. "Which one's your favorite?"

She'd dragged him upstairs for sewing help. He cleared his throat and smoothed out the collar of his shirt, which hadn't been rumpled by her hands.

"I've never thought about it," he said, keeping the disappointment out of his voice. "Flat buttons are probably the easiest to sew with, but Father says shank buttons are almost as easy, and I think they look... What?"

Marinette was laughing at him. "No, your favorite controller button, you goof." She waved one in front of his face. The A button had been taped down. Taking it in both hands again, she mimed playing an intense round. Enthusiasm bubbled off of her. He had no idea what this was about, but he was already on board with whatever it was. (Even if it wasn't kissing.)

"I'm confused." And also in love with you.

It was too late for his confession to be the first thing out of his mouth. His fingers itched to touch her, but she was too excited to let him interrupt.

"See, we're getting too good. We need a new way to push ourselves, so I thought, give ourselves a handicap." She pointed at the incapacitated button. "And go head-to-head. What do you think?"

"I think that's amazing."

As soon as the moment passed, he'd realized what a perfect opportunity he'd missed. Marinette was scrambling across her room to tape down the B on his controller. "You're," he whispered, too quiet for her to hear. "I think you're amazing."

"Catch!" The controller flew, and he caught it deftly. Marinette flopped onto the chaise, leaning sideways against the cushioned back, leaving enough room for him to sit at the end, if he didn't mind her feet poking his thigh, which he definitely did not.

The computer monitor flickered as Marinette scrolled through the settings. Adrien leaned forward as the round began, trying to ignore the way her toes jabbed him when he got a hit on her. It didn't happen very often. The handicap was almost impossible to play with. Marinette won every round easily. At the end of the fourth round, she covered a fake yawn and stretched lazily, and he finally realized something important.

"You practiced this beforehand, you dirty cheater!"

Marinette laughed wickedly as his character was knocked out again.

"You're almost as good as I am now, young grasshopper. I've got to maintain my superiority somehow!"

"We both know that isn't true." He swiped for her hands, but she was too fast, moving the controller out of his reach. "Give yourself a second handicap."

"Make me," she said, her feet pushing against him to press herself further into the back of the chaise.

"Give it."

"No."

He leaned over her legs and into her space, but she kept the controller away from him, grinning wildly. Feigning defeat, Adrien leaned back. When Marinette lowered it into her lap, he pounced forward, but she was still too quick, lifting both hands behind her head, hiding it out of sight.

"Hand it over!"

"No!"

He reached, and she leaned back farther, one elbow poking his cheek. Pushing into her, he strained to get the controller, and she arched underneath him to keep it away.

His arms were longer than hers. He should have been able to get it. His fingers found her wrists, and he slid them up to find her fingers.

A warm breath on his cheek made him stop. He was face-to-face with Marinette. He was nearly lying on top of her, pressing her into the chaise. They were both breathing hard, though they'd barely moved. One of her pigtails was loose.

"It's not fair," he said, mouth dry. "You need to make it even."

She lifted her head, until her face filled his vision and their noses touched. "Make me." Her lips brushed his with each word.

He kissed her.

Every longing moment, every loving thought he'd ever had about her poured through him into his kiss. Again and again his lips found hers. Somewhere, a controller clattered to the floor, and then her hands were on him, in his hair, splayed against his neck, pulling him closer, and he kissed her harder, caressing her face, pulling out her loose pigtail so he could feel her soft hair between his fingers.

Kissing a line from the corner of her mouth to ear and back, he asked, "Have I sufficiently dazed you?"

She hummed dreamily in response.

Kissing just below her ear, he asked, "Think you can play like this?"

A whisper. "No."

Taking his time, he worked his way back across her cheek, making sure to kiss every inch until he reached the corner of her lips, but he stopped just shy of them, gently kissing her nose instead. "Good."

Somehow, he managed to pull himself off of her. Marinette clutched at his shirt, trying to get him to come back, but he circled the chaise and retrieved her controller, holding it out to her. He loved the way her fingers hovered over her mouth as her eyes wandered up his arm. When her eyes reached his lips, her fingers pressed down hard, like it was the only way she could stop herself from kissing him again.

"Up for another round?" he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the computer screen.

"Yes, but not of that." She scowled. Half of her hair was loose around her shoulder.

"Let me win this game and you have a deal."

"Never."

"Poor, Marinette," he said, settling down next to her and clicking Start. "No more kisses for you."

Ten seconds into the round and Adrien already knew his plan was going to end badly. His hands were shaking. Marinette's character wobbled. Every time he licked his lips, he could still taste her.

And she had realized that if she rubbed her toes against his hip, he would jump and look over at her. The first time she did it, he was unsure if it had been on purpose, but the second, he turned to find a sly smile waiting for him. This girl was going to drive him crazy.

"I don't think much of your tactics," she said a minute later, as her character finished him off. It had taken three times longer than normal because they were both awful. "You're clearly just as dazed as I am."

"Not nearly enough," he said. Tossing the controller onto the desk, he reached for her waist and slid her into his lap. She came willingly, looping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair.

One of his hands stayed at her waist, the other reached up and pulled her other pigtail loose. "You really do look good like this," he breathed.

"You love me," she giggled. "Admit it."

He leaned forward, forehead resting on hers, eyes locked. "Make me."

"Oh, believe me-" Marinette's voice was a low whisper, and Adrien felt a thrill. "I will."

***

Author’s note: This might just be my new favorite thing I’ve ever written. :) I wrote this in response to a poll I took a zillion years ago. It’s finally here! Thank you @ours-polaires, @khanofallorcs and @actuallycannotflirt for beta’ing this one! I know it was long, and I truly appreciate the help!

@tbehartoo

#adrinette #adrienette #ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #no miraculous au

593 notes · View notes

mst3kproject · 3 years ago

Photo

The Giant of Marathon

For some reason, probably because I've seen them all so many times, I thought I'd already done all four Film Crew episodes. Evidently this is not true. Here's one, and if you haven't seen it... wow, Mr. Honcho was not exaggerating about the thousands of sweaty men.

Philippides of Athens is the greatest athlete there is, having won the entire Olympics. With the games over, he returns to his day job as commander of the Athenian city guard. Followers of Hippias the exiled tyrant are plotting to take control of the city with help from the invading Persians, and they try to seduce Philippides to their cause by offering him wine, women, and homoerotic wrestling (it was ancient Greece, after all). Philippides refuses to be seduced, and sets off to secure the help of Athens' old enemy Sparta in opposing the Persians. His mission is a success, but upon his return a spy tells him that the Persians are planning a sneak attack on the harbour of Piraeus. Can even Philippides get there in time to deliver the warning?

I don't actually know if it were possible to win the entire Olympics in ancient Greece. I know there were several events and at least one of them involved reciting poetry. The Battle of Marathon was in 490 BC and a table on Wikipedia suggests that there could have been up to twelve different sports, but some of them were only for children.

The Giant of Marathon touts itself as a tale of epic battles, daring deeds, and political machinations. I'll get back to the epic battles and daring deeds, but what stands in for the political machinations is mostly a bunch of people pining. Unimpressive villain Theocritus is pining for the beautiful Andromeda, whose father has promised her to him but she thinks he's a dick. She's pining for Philippides, who is also pining for her but thinks she's one of Hippias' followers, so refuses to speak to her. Meanwhile Theocritus' concubine Charis is also pining for Philippides because he's the only man who ever refused to fuck her, I think.

These relationships are important to the plot, too. Andromeda's love for Philippides is one of the reasons her father refuses to join the traitors, and when Theocritus realizes he cannot have her, he ties her to the prow of his ship to force Philippides to watch her die. Charis' crush on Philippides leads her to her death, as she is executed for spying. Yet none of it is ever developed beyond 'these two pretty people saw each other and now they want to bone'. Philippides declares his love for Andromeda after a single five-minute interaction. Charis has seen Philippides twice, and both times it went badly, when she decides to betray Theocritus.

Why do the writers hang such important plot points on the 'love' between people who have barely spoken to each other? I can't decide if it's because they're lazy, or because they're hacks, and I lean towards a combination of the two. There is absolutely no subtlety to the writing in The Giant of Marathon at all. Everything is told, not shown. We know that Theocritus and Creusus are traitors because they talk about it, in dialogue that's clearly written for the audience, not as anything that sounds like a natural conversation. We know that Charis and Andromeda are both in love with Philippides because they say so. The only thing we're really shown is that Andromeda hates Theocritus, which comes through in her body language (though we are also very much told), so props to actress Mylène Demongeot for that much.

The movie doesn't care about any of this character stuff, anyway. It just wants to get straight to those epic battle scenes, and it's very obvious how much work and time went into those as opposed to everything else. The battles are lengthy and elaborate, full of impressive stunts and props and miniatures being destroyed all over the place. We get to see Persian chariots run down Greek infantry, and while I'm pretty sure this would have been orchestrated so the stuntmen didn't get hurt, I'm not nearly so confident about the unfortunate horses (and neither was Bill). There are ships in flames and injured men screaming as they fall overboard. There are even some pretty good deaths, like the guy who was hit in the eye with an arrow. The desperate last stand of the city guard against the entire Persian fleet, with the Spartans arriving just in time to save the day, is very tense indeed.

I get the impression that this is what somebody really wanted to put on screen, and they did a decent job of it, but pretty much the entire rest of what ought to be the story is just an accessory to the fighting stuff. It's as if the film-makers wanted so badly for their fight sequences to be epic that they forgot what makes epic-ness – which is the characters and their stake in the events. We don't know any of these people, none of them have anything we might call a personality trait, and so we don't care.

The focus on how epic it all is makes I seem a little strange that the battle ends on a shot of dead Persian guys floating in the water. You'd think they'd want to end with something that more decisively shows the Athenian victory, maybe the men cheering as the Persian ships turn around and flee. Or perhaps some kind of victory celebration, which could mirror the celebration of Philippides winning the Olympics in the opening and call back to the scene where Philippides asks the goddess Athena to protect her city.

Instead, we cut to a shot of Philippides and Andromeda walking across the farmland together. This feels a little too sudden, and is also a poor fit with the rest of the movie. The only time we've seen Philippides on his farm is when he's gotten disgusted with the politics of Athens and returned to the countryside to sulk. If the farm is supposed to be a place where he's happy and at peace, the movie never establishes it.

So that's political machinations and epic battle sequences, let's talk about some daring deeds.

Unlike the Hercules and Maciste movies we've seen in the past, The Giant of Marathon wants to be grounded in real-life history. This means that while the script does reference gods and mythical heroes, none of them ever appear and there is no hint of them working behind the scenes to bring events about. Likewise, Philippides is not a demigod, so we avoid several of the tropes associated with the genre. Nothing important ever happens (or fails to happen) because the hero was asleep, and he never bends prison bars or drinks a love potion – although a love potion is mentioned, as if to draw attention to this.

This doesn't leave Philippides a whole lot of scope for daring deeds, and when they try the results are a little lackluster. His main feat is, of course, running all the way from Marathon to Athens (the proverbial forty-two kilometres) to let them know of the impending attack, but while this ought to be the highlight of the movie it's shot in terrible day-for-night and we have nothing to suggest how far this is... I think the writers just assumed everybody knows the length of a marathon. If we'd seen the army tired from making the march earlier, we would have a better sense of it being a long and tiring journey even at a walk or with horses, and it would seem that much more formidable as a distance for one man to cover before sunrise. Of course, showing us these things is apparently beyond the scope of The Giant of Marathon's writers, but you'd think they could at least have a character say something like, “it's twenty-six miles! He'll never make it!”

His other major daring deed is when he pushes giant boulders down a hill onto the attacking Persians. This is kind of weird because Philippides is not Hercules or Maciste. He's good at track and field, but we haven't seen any evidence of him having godlike strength, and this is a universe where gods don't seem to do much anyway, so it comes out of nowhere. The rocks are huge – there are similarly-sized ones at the park near my house and I know one guy couldn't move them no matter how buff he might be. Did somebody just forget that they weren't making a Hercules movie?

Between the battles and the various plot twists, The Giant of Marathon could have been a pretty fun sword-and-sandal movie, but it's like a tower without a foundation. The fights have nothing to hold them up, so we just can't get into it. Also, what the Underworld happened to Hippias? We see him once, chatting with the king of Persia, and then he vanishes and the movie decides weaselly little Theocritus is the big bad instead. I'm sorry, but if you've got a character with a name as cool as 'Hippias the Tyrant', you really can't just drop him like that.

The Best Brains liked to complain about the tinyness of the costumes in these movies but honestly, nothing here is as off-putting as actual ancient Greek sports would have been to the modern viewer. When I was in university I TA'd for a course called Introduction to Greco-Roman Civilization. It was an adventure in several ways – the students were mostly dumb freshmen who spent the lectures playing Farmville, and the professor didn't give a shit because she'd just been denied tenure. I don't know how much anybody learned in that class, but I'm sure they all recall how, after the professor told us that Greek athletes stripped naked and covered themselves in olive oil before wrestling, somebody raised a hand and asked if they removed their body hair. The professor cheerfully told him that they did not, so next time we see a Greek vase we ought to remember that these guys were much sweatier, oilier, and hairier than terra cotta can possibly convey.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the battle of marathon #the film crew #50s #my cheese steak

16 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmarks, Part 13

First part

~~~

She heard a knock on her balcony door and opened it. He stood outside, his hands stuffed in his pockets. She glanced him over. He was definitely more prepared than she was, he looked like he’d just walked out of a spy movie with all his equipment.

She looked it over with envy. Ah, the power of money.

Marinette waved him inside. “I’ve still got to get some stuff out.”

She dug through her room. Unsurprisingly, her parents weren’t exactly aware of this particular ‘hobby’ of hers… which meant that she’d had to hide everything pretty well. They didn’t exactly go through her room, but they still came up to talk to her often enough that having stuff out in the open was a terrible idea.

She scooped up the last piece of equipment and turned around.

He was also poking around her room, though the reason why was probably less innocent than ‘looking for spy equipment’... which already isn’t all that innocent, so take that how you will.

Her face flushed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Find anything interesting?”

His shoulders froze and he dropped the tiny Chat Noir plush he’d found. “Your room… it’s... uh… very… pink.” He coughed into his hand awkwardly. “Yep. Got everything? Good, let’s go.”

He made to leave and she grabbed his arm.

Tim paused and looked back at her, giving her his most innocent smile. He was probably anxious that she was mad at him for snooping around her room (she wasn’t, she’d do the same thing in his room if he had actually lived there).

She hesitated slightly and let go, pulling out her yoyo to mess with. Now for the part of the night that she’d been dreading most: “We need a backup plan in case we get caught.”

“I doubt we will,” he said with a cocky grin.

Marinette shrugged. “I hope not, but in case… you’ll need to have some kind of suit so we can say it’s superhero business.”

He winced and looked at the floor. “I don’t want to get back in the Robin suit,” he admitted, his voice little more than a whisper.

She nodded slightly. She’d predicted that. He hadn’t once mentioned wanting to get back into the Robin suit, nor had the soulmark made a reappearance. She held up a finger for him to wait and then walked over to her desk, picking up a tiny box.

She’d thought for a long time about what to give him. She had wanted to give him the fox miraculous originally, it was the most in line with what they were doing; Trixx would give them extra cover and they could get closer to Lila without her detecting them. On the other hand, giving the fox miraculous to anyone besides Alya was risky. There was a risk of her becoming akumatized. They really didn’t need that right now.

And, so, she handed over the horse miraculous. It would give them a quick out when needed.

Also, she thought he’d look cute with glasses. Sue her.

He raised his eyebrows slightly and pulled them on.

She was right!

He frowned slightly and started squinting through the glasses. “Oh, crap, do I actually need glasses these are helpi -- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“Shhhhh! My parents are going to hear us!”

He pointed at Kaalki, who crossed her arms (? hooves? legs?) over her chest.

“Who is that,” she corrected, then turned to Marinette with a sigh. “Is he at least famous?”

“Yep. Tim Drake-Wayne. Rich and famous, just how you like them.”

Kaalki beamed. “Finally, someone who actually deserves me.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and turned to Tim, who was slowly backing away from the tiny god. “She’s not going to hurt you.”

“Well, yeah, I can and will punt her.”

She rolled her eyes. “She’s literally a god, but okay.”

“A WHAT?!”

Marinette heard a knock on the bottom of her trapdoor and cursed, quickly diving onto it before her mom could come in. Her hands and knees were scraped, but it was much easier than explaining why there was a guy and a god hanging out in her room.

“Marinette? Is everything okay in there?” Her mom pushed up on the door and she threw all her weight into holding it closed. “Who’s over?”

“Yes, mom, everything’s fine! This is just…” She floundered. “A new superhero?”

“How do you know superheroes?”

“I have an amazing personality.” She caught Tim’s eyes and mouthed that he needed to take off all the equipment and then transform.

He looked reluctant, but he complied.

She waited until he was fine and then finally pushed herself off the door, giving her mother an awkward smile as the trapdoor opened.

“Hi, mom, meet…” She looked at Tim and shrugged. “Horse-guy?”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “Horse-guy? Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Do you have anything better?”

“Uh…” He looked down at himself. “Cheval Brun?”

“Should’ve gone with Horse-guy.” She smiled and waved at her mom. “Great, now that you know nothing is going on, can you… go? I love you!”

“Love you… too?” Said her mom, her eyebrows knitting together. She slowly closed the trapdoor.

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief and laid back.

“Tikki, spots on,” she mumbled.

Tim grinned and offered her a hand up. “Ready to go?”

She took it and smiled as he helped her to her feet.

“Of course.”

She pulled her night-vision goggles to her eyes. Lila was… on her bed, scrolling through her phone. Threatening.

“Y’know, it feels weird to stalk someone I don’t like,” she said with a pout.

“Right?” Said Tim, frowning as he set up his camera. “Stalking is for obsessions only.”

“Exactly.”

She heard her comm click. “You guys are really weird,” said Adrien, sounding exhausted. “Just… in the future, can you stick to only stalking each other?”

“Sounds romantic,” said Marinette.

“No,” said Dick. “No, it’s not.”

Tim grinned. “It could be.”

“No --.”

“I say we let them. At least it’s not us anymore,” said Barbara.

Marinette laughed. “Exactly. Be glad.”

She felt Tim lace his fingers through hers and she was lucky it was dark because her face was quickly getting warm.

“We’re turning off comms to listen. We’ll turn them back on if we need to.”

Everyone mumbled a bye (and Dick warned that they would pick up the conversation later) and the soulmates turned their comms off in sync.

They waited there for a long time, their ears pressed to the devices Tim had brought to help listen in. But… it was almost like Lila was being intentionally boring. They didn’t have to peek over the side to make sure that she was still there, because they could hear her shift around on the bed or laugh occasionally, she just seemed to be very interested in her phone.

“Christ, she’s more boring than Adrien. At least Adrien sometimes played piano,” she joked quietly, resting her head back against the wall with a tiny sigh.

Maybe they were wrong about Lila. They’d been going off of shaky evidence at best. Still, something in her told her that they were right.

The thing telling her this was definitely fuelled by spite, but she was going to pretend that it wasn’t.

So she continued to listen in. There was a lot of waiting involved in stalking someone if you’re looking for something.

Her eyes found their way to Tim, who gave her a tiny smile.

Well, she might as well kill time.

“So, we going to talk about Lila?”

His smile dropped and he tried not to tense up too much.

“Thought we already did?” He said.

She shrugged. “A little, but I’d like to know why you were so convinced. Yeah, Lila is like that, but you seemed pretty determined to believe her over me.”

He hesitated, looking down at their interlocked hands. He’d hoped that her history with Lila would be enough to convince her that was all, but he supposed he should have known she’d be smarter than that.

Man, why couldn’t he just lie? He wanted to lie, it should have been so easy to say ‘oh, no, she’s just really convincing, you know that’ but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when he’d seen how hurt she’d looked at the cafe, not when she was giving him that smile that said she’d understand no matter what.

Tim sighed and closed his eyes.

“It’s just… you’re so… good, Nette.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“No, really. Like, yes, you’re probably more revenge motivated than you should be, and you can be a bit of a pushover, and you rival Bruce in the bad coping mechanism olympics, but… you’re also a heroine, you’re sweet, and it feels like you were made for me but…”

She ran her thumb over the back of his hand. She looked like she was going to argue for a second, but ultimately just prompted him to continue with a: “But…?”

“But... that’s just not how things go in my life. There’s always some kind of downside, some huge ‘oh fuck’. So you being some sort of terrible person underneath really would have just been par for the course.”

He felt tears form in the back of his eyes. Venting always feels good after the fact, even if it opens old wounds while you’re doing it. Damn. He couldn’t really afford to do this in Paris, but here he was, and now that he’d started he couldn’t bring himself to stop. If he did, he doubted he’d ever be able to bring himself to tell her, and he wasn’t fond of that, either.

“And, I’ve never really told anyone about this, but… I don’t really… talk to a lot of people.”

“I know.”

His head shot up to look at her. “Huh?”

“You’re my soulmate. It took you until fourteen to get a single person’s name. I kinda guessed.”

Oh. Right.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Well, yeah, my parents sucked and every person who ever tried to talk to me did it because they were rich. I ended up just never talking to people. The whole ‘friends’ thing is still kinda new to me, let alone getting a possible girlfriend.”

He gave a short, somewhat bitter laugh. “Not that you want to date me. I’m a bit of a mess. So is my life. You’d be better off if we were just friends, and even better if you stopped talking to me entirely.”

He felt her head rest on his shoulder and opened his eyes to look at her. She gave him a slight smile, but her eyes were locked on a place over his shoulder.

A frown made its way across his face and he started to turn to see what she was looking at, only to feel her cup his cheek and pull his face until he was looking at her again.

She met his gaze and her smile dropped into a serious look. “Listen: I like being around you. A lot. I’m not nearly as perfect as you seem to think I am, but I still want to be something good in your life. Please, let me.”

He let himself relax, resting his hand over hers and turning his head to press a tiny kiss to her palm.

“I know you only said that because there was an akuma, but… I’d like that.”

She blushed faintly and relaxed a little bit as well. “I still meant it.”

He looked at her for a minute, expecting to see some hint of a lie, but there wasn’t one. She met his gaze and smiled, leaning up slightly to press a kiss to his cheek.

He couldn’t help it. He turned his head and his lips brushed against hers.

She blinked in surprise.

He looked at her wide eyes and paled. Shit. “Sorry! I don’t know what --!”

She kissed him again and he felt himself smile as he kissed back. It was both of their first kisses, so they were, admittedly, a little awkward, but he could definitely tell why people liked it so much. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt so energized.

But, eventually, they pulled away. His eyes fluttered open to see she was blushing like mad, and the warmth in his cheeks told him that he was likely just as red. She smiled at him and he felt his heart do a tiny flip in his chest.

Eventually, though, Lila laughed at something on her phone and he was pulled back to reality.

He blinked a few times and looked away. They were here for a reason other than kissing. They had a job. “Did you see where the akuma came from?” He asked after a few seconds.

She snapped out of it as well, pulling her hand from his cheek to point over his shoulder. “Back that way --.”

They both looked at where she was pointing, where the akuma was slowly disappearing on the horizon.

“What are the chances it’s going back to Hawkmoth?”

“Worth a shot, don’t you think?”

They followed after it.

~~~

Next part

A lot of people wait to do kisses until the end but idk I like writing people in relationships too much to

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper @ladybug-182 @laurcad123 @we-want-mini-mini @roguishredaxion @just-reblogs-by-h @futursworld @magic-miraculous @nathleigh @smolplantmum @vroomtaka @emimar7 @toodaloo-kangaroo @charme-de-malchan @spicybelladonna @fusser90 @indecisive-mess-named-me @rosesgonerogue @celestialsiren @bluesimani @loysydark

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #listen technically he's not red robin in this #but wtf kinda clicks am i going to get with brun cheval #soulmarks #maribat #adribat

137 notes · View notes

qiankunfics · 4 years ago

Text

KunTen Masterlist Part 4

AO3

1. we don't know how to talk, but damn, we know how to fuck by flowerhairclips

Summary: It’s hilarious to Ten how they ended up fucking on the regular, because Kun was so uptight and didn’t at all look like the type to have several pornhub webpages open on his incognito browser that reflected all the kinks he had hidden underneath his collared shirts and slacks. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

2. Lords and Ladies by Mntsnflrs

Summary: How galling it must have been to see a common whore beside the throne, his hands in the King’s hair, lips against the King’s ear. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

3. Doctor's Orders by Fire_shockk

Summary: Ten gets some upsetting orders from his doctor, and Kun is there to make sure he goes through with it. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

4. Summer Stars by Mntsnflrs

Summary: He never asked for favours, so when he did, Kun agreed without asking questions. Rating: Mature Status: Completed Trigger: Descriptions of injuries

5. Now your mess is mine by Livvinamess

Summary: Courting him like an omega would court a beta, and that was a problem, because Kun wasn't one. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

6. supernova beat by taeyomi (buttercream)

Summary: For the record, Kun didn’t free fall into love with Ten. It was a painstakingly gradual process, but in hindsight, it probably started that very day. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

7. back to black by rendawnie

Summary: Kun hums under his breath. His wrists ache from the leather straps that had bound him yesterday, during a particularly bad episode. They’d had to restrain him. Ten would have been proud, he thinks to himself. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot Trigger: Self-Harm, Mental Illness

8. when the time comes by kuntenjohnil

Summary: Ten summons a human familiar? Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

9. bewitched by andnowforyaya

Summary: Kun and Ten move into their starter home outside of the city and throw a housewarming party. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

10. i'm gonna bed into you like a cat prance into a beanbag by eatthatup

Summary: All he does is smile, widely, because he loves them, because he’s happy that Ten is happy, because he’s glad they can share such intimate moments. Sometimes it makes him emotional. Rating: Teen Status: One-shot

11. Perfect Little Family by oonymay

Summary: In which Kun and Ten find a crying child in a forest and naturally decide that raising it in secret is the best option. And therein begins a battle with languages, the meaning of home and feelings. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

12. I Literally Hate You by RainbowDonkeys

Summary: Roommates Ten and Kun hate each other and they decide to hate-fuck. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

13. Totally Showed Him! by pinkfire

Summary: If Ten is so fed up, he can just put Kun in his place, show him that he can’t just step all over Ten whenever he wants. What’s the worst that could happen? Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

14. it's only up from here by unconscious

Summary: Ten can't quite ask for what he wants. Kun is determined to figure it out. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

15. don't you go by angstonly

Summary: one reunion and way too many drinks later, kun and ten find each other in the same situation that led to them drifting apart two years ago Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

16. dark white room by rainingover

Summary: Ten visits Kun in the prison wing of the ship. Rating: Explicit Status: Completed

17. How I’ve waited by crazvdream

Summary: In which Kun and Ten are both dumbasses who don’t know how to express their love. They get there eventually. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

18. Interest by EbbaTriesToWrite

Summary: He didn’t speak word about his interest in makeup but kept indulging himself by watching videos, he always made sure to use an incognito window though - he knew other boys did too but for very different reasons. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

19. Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken by colorskun

Summary: On the worst days, Kun wasn’t entirely sure what Ten’s voice sounded like when he told him he loved him. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot Triggers: Blood and Injury, Psychological torture

20. Take Yourself Home by Phoenix_Tears for Purple_rules

Summary: Seeing them now, nobody would ever imagine that Kun and Ten were once head over heels for each other. Rating: Explicit Status: On-Going

21. love you out loud by unconscious

Summary: Yes, Kun ge, I like it when you hold me down, and pull my hair, and don’t let me touch, and maybe you could spit in my mouth again? Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

22. to the moon and back by andnowforyaya

Summary: “Hey, have you seen Ten?” Kun asked Johnny for the third time that night. Rating: Teen Status: One-shot

23. ‘Cause I can’t make you stay if you wanna go by kkkalguksu

Summary: “He… he ran away.” Kun’s mouth agape in surprise. Maybe he never expected this kind of mess. Especially, not on their wedding day. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

24. The Moonlight Shines At Midnight by pylador19

Summary: What if you were the very few people in the world, like Ten, who didn’t have a soul mark anywhere on their body? Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

25. actually, I don't have a daughter by mikararinna

Summary: "Look, I'm a single gay man in my 30s who's probably desperate for love. When a hot male with fluffy brown hair suddenly talked to me about his babies after I ranted about my sweet, sweet baby TongTong I didn't expect him to be a single father of two!" Rating: Teen Status: One-shot

26. He Moves Like The Waves by pinkfire

Summary: “You’ll get sand in your mouth. Want me to send you his number?” He has a knowing look on his face, eyebrows rising and sinking teasingly. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

27. from me, to you by madhoney

Summary: story of kunten falling in love over time through the exchanging of gifts. Rating: General Status: On-going

28. The Games by SourwolfZiam

Summary: Ten Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (Thailand, 3-time Olympic medallist) announces his upcoming retirement from professional gymnastics a month before the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

29. Familiar Flames by pinkfire

Summary: Ten didn't think he deserved to find another familiar, let alone a loving werewolf Kun who smells like sweets and warm bread. Rating: Mature Status: On-Going

30. it's always say goodnight n go by piiisces

Summary: when ten misses the train home, kun lets him sleep at his place for the night. Rating: Teen Status: One-shot

31. gotta be first by kuntenjohnil

Summary: lmao xuxi i just walked into this bar and someone yelled dibs - Kun Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

32. Senses. by Lesbevian

Summary: In which Ten misses his boyfriend while promoting overseas. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

33. let's be lucky people by xflatline

Summary: Kun and Ten have been dating for forever.Everyone thinks they're the perfect couple including themselves. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

34. Lights down low by mkhhhx

Summary: “Why, wasn’t my office romantic enough?” Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

35. On your side by kkkalguksu

Summary: “I have good news and a bad news.” Kun received a message from his husband that contains this message. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

36. composure by andnowforyaya

Summary: “What do you want, baby?” Kun mumbled, sinking back down onto flat footing languidly and continuing to push his ass back, teasing Ten. “What does baby want?” Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

37. i wil confess what has been on the tip of my tongue tomorrow by ActivelyWeird

Summary: Ten knew they didn't sell any rice milk, so why was he telling this customer that they did? Rating: General Status: One-Shot

38. the moment you can breathe

Summary: Kun ends up creating a fake fan account for himself to try and connect with his fanbase. Ten is a very big (and horny) fan of his. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot *Twit fic AU on AO3

39. Liu Yangyang's Masterplan by Kill3rWhal3D1ck

Summary: *focus pairing is DoJae but KunTen does feature well in the first few chapters Rating: Explicit Status: Completed

40. you're the right thing after all by unconscious

Summary: kunten getting together and being romo soulmates with intersex ten Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

41. 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙝 ✧ : .゜ by tintedCupre

Summary: As night drips his lips connect with Ten again and he forgets the lines of what is sin and what is not. Rating: Teen/Mature Status: One-Shot Trigger: Homophobia

42. Mr Qian and the oh-so-absolutely flirtatious Mr Lee by writesinfontuwu

Summary: Qian Kun finds a secretary that does his job well and actually puts up with his demands. Bad thing about him? Overly, insufferably, annoyingly, (adorably) flirtatious. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

43. in a place like this by merryofsoul

Summary: Kun and Ten meet in the hospital, but not in the way you'd think. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

44. Normal but Special by MelodicNoise for kungod

Summary: Kun's birthday isn't shaping up to be what he expected. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

45. Aim and Shoot by softyjseo

Summary: After being separated from his group, Ten doesn't lose hope to find them again. He stumbles upon an abandoned hotel and hopes to survive. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

46. boy, i can't cover up my heart by kunhyangs

Summary: ten decides confessing to kun through a vague, 'didn't-think-this-through' text is the best way to confess. except, it doesn't work as expected, but he's still happy with the outcome. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

47. He's Our Little Shit by rowx3yourships

Summary: “Tell me why the teachers call me first?” Ten walked over and sat in Kun’s lap. “You’re the responsible adult, not me.” Rating: General Status: One-Shot

48. Touchin by starryeyed (kaylie153)

Summary: ten meets someone at a club and takes him home Rating: Explicit Status: One-shot

49. ursa minor by lowkeyamen

Summary: No one is allowed to tell Ten he's a good boy apart from Kun. Certainly not some cheap little lie detector toy. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

50. give it a shot by 10vesick

Summary: Ten takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

#kunten #masterlist #part 4 #kun #qian kun

6 notes · View notes

snaileer · 5 years ago

Text

Chips & Salsa Chp 6

Okay, Lance had definitely not thought through the whole ‘angrily stomp out of the room and leave Keith stunned behind him’ thing. Mostly because now Keith was in his room and Lance had nowhere else to be at five in the morning. It was still a good 2 hours until anyone was supposed to be awake.

What that really meant was everybody still had 2 hours of productive free time until they’d agreed Allura was allowed to beckon for them. God, he wished he hadn’t argued for the extra hours of ‘beauty sleep’ now. Even if sleep was all he wanted to do.

Still, maybe the time would give him an opportunity to shake off the lingering heaviness of his nightmare.

Lance fiddled with the bracelet on his arm. Pidge really was their very own genius extraordinaire. It was measured perfectly to his wrist. Which was saying something, because he had itsy-bitsy crazy thin wrists. From his Mom’s side.

His siblings had teased him relentlessly for having ‘dainty’ wrists. Ha! Lance smiled to himself at the thought. If only his family could see him now; he would absolutely destroy them in arm-wrestling.

He might even be able to beat Marco, but his brother had-

The ringing surged, “Ah!” Lance stumbled to the side with his head in his hands. His elbow hit the wall and he yanked back immediately, “OooooH! Mmmm- ! Mother trucker!”

His arm tingled with pins-and-needles as he lost balance and fell to the floor.

“Lance!?”

Shiro?

Shiro.

He ran down the hall towards Lance, “Lance! What’s wrong?”

“I hit-” Lance hissed in pain again, “I hit my funny bone.” He cradled his left arm against his chest.

Shiro froze in surprise, until he started to shake. Within seconds Shiro stopped trying to contain his snickering and was laughing outright.

“Shiro!” Lance said scandalized, “Stop laughing at me! The funny-bone hurts!”

Shiro was laughing so hard he was wheezing, “I’m sorry,” he could barely get a word out, “It’s just so funny!”

Lance dropped his head against the ground with a thump. “It’s still tingling!” He whined into his chest, sounding for all the world like a petulant child. Which only made Shiro laugh harder.

-x-

Now, Coran had seen some things in his days. He’d seen stars and galaxies and war and peace, applez and orranges, kings and queens. The rise of civilizations. The fall of planets. The lives in between them.

Still, it was quite a sight to come upon the blue and black paladins in the hallway of his castle. One rolling on the ground in pain and the other laughing uncontrollably at his friend.

“Paladins?”

“Coran!” Shiro managed to talk as he tried to catch his breath.

“What is the meaning of this, Number one?”

“Lance, hit his-” he wheezed again, “funny bone,” A giant smile still plastered across his face.

Lance shouted out next to him, “There’s nothing funny about the funny bone Shiro!”

“There is for me!”

“Would you like some help, Number Three?” Coran asked as he walked in front of Lance on the floor.

“Dios mio, yes! Please!” Lance took Coran’s hand to pull himself back up, still rubbing his elbow as he glared at Shiro.

Coran shook his head, “I don't think I will ever understand you humans, you’re a very… unique breed.”

“Don't even try with this one. The funny bone is the most useless, pointless thing the human body ever came up with,” Lance stated the fact like it was his greatest enemy.

“I’ll have to disagree with you there, Lance, because that was exactly what I needed this morning,” Shiro smiled smugly.

“You shouldn't even be awake this early!”

“Oh, but I am. And I will never forget this. Oo-!” Shiro hummed with a discovery, “But thank you for reminding me! I was hoping to catch up with you to go over the Blue Lion.”

Lance’s playful smile dropped.

“You have Olympic talents for dampening a mood, you know that right?”

“I have been told that once or twice.” Shiro smirked, “And yet we’ve still got to do it.” He latched his hand onto the back of Lance’s jacket.

Lance’s mind worked overtime to try and figure a way out. He couldn’t confront Blue, not after everything that happened. Everything that he’d done.

“A unique breed indeed,” Coran murmured as he watched Shiro continue to half-drag Lance towards the hangers.

“See you at breakfast, Coran!” Shiro waved at him before turning a corner.

“Hey! There’s an option: breakfast! Y’know… eat, talk... not mess with the Blue Lion.” Lance tried to smile.

Shiro infused his voice with false cheer, “Sure, sounds like a great idea! If you’re willing to actually talk now,” Lance cringed, “Didn’t think so.”

Shiro stopped them in front of the hangar doors, his shoulders sagging a bit, “Listen, Lance, I get the whole not wanting to share with us thing. I don't like talking about my experiences either.” He sighed, “I know it would probably help to talk about it, we both know that, but we also know how hard that is.” Shiro made pointed eye contact with Lance, “So if we’re not going to work on the emotional, then we’ve got to work on the logical. And that means the Blue Lion.”

“Or…” Lance mock shrugged with his hands, “how ‘bout we don't and say we did?”

Shiro raised a judgemental eyebrow.

“Fine, fine,” Lance raised his arms in surrender, “Didn’t think that one would work anyways,” he grumbled, “All I wanted was some sleep.”

Stepping up to the hanger doors felt more ominous than usual. But when they opened, Blue was just as amazing as he remembered.

And her barrier just as strong.

Shiro followed him into the room as he slowly made it to the particle shield.

“Hey, Baby Blue,” he paused to look up at her eyes, “Miss me?”

Lance rested a hand on the barrier, trying to feel her in his mind. She used to be a constant presence. Always there to reassure him, to push him further, to help him be better.

Now?

Now, as he searched for her connection, Lance could feel the walls between them.

Now, as he desperately hoped for even a sliver of her peace, there was nothing.

Now, as his fears were silently confirmed, Lance knew he’d been cut-off from her.

“Sorry, Shiro, it’s just not happening,” He pulled his hand back from the shield quicker than necessary. He hurried to get out of the hanger and alone.

“It’s okay, Lance, I was planning on a bonding session today anyways,” Shiro smiled gently and followed after him.

Lance spun to face him, “Why?! Because you knew this wouldn’t work?!”

Shiro was started back a bit, “No, I just-”

“Don’t worry! I knew it wouldn’t work, too! Of course it wouldn’t work! Why in the wide wide world of Webkinz would Blue ever want me back?! She wouldn’t! I don't even know why any of you want me back! You have Allura now! She’s literally a magical alien princess! How can I compare to that?!”

“We want you back because you're our friend, Lance. You’re the only one comparing yourself to Allura,” Shiro tried to comfort him, tried to fill in those insecurities and worries. He’d seen them in Lance before, known they were there, but they’d grown since he’d been... taken. “We told you: Blue barely let Allura fly her, you are the Blue paladin. Not anybody else.”

“Well somebody forgot to tell her that! Did you know I can feel the walls between us? I can literally feel everything that’s stopping me from connecting to her. To my lion. Can you even imagine that? I wish I could help you, but maybe I’m not even meant to be a paladin anymore.”

“No, that’s not true, Lance. I know it’s not. Please, just come to the training today. We’ll try this again, and-”

“Don't you get it, Shiro?! It’s not going to work! We can keep trying, but it’ll never work because she shut me out! She cut me off!” Lance’s voice saddened, “Completely.”

“We can’t be sure of-”

“Fine! I’ll be there. But I’m not promising anything,” Lance turned his back to Shiro, “So don't get your hopes up.” He left the hangar quickly, pushing himself farther and farther away from the Blue Lion. Further into the abandoned darkness.

Lance curled his arms around himself in the empty hallways, but kept walking. A weight settled in his chest. Accumulating from the nightmare, the fight and, Blue. He was so tired.

The density of the heartache slowed him to a stop in front of the observatory, doors opening automatically.

Oh, how he missed the stars.

He’d been in space for probably more than a year now and he’d spent three months without seeing the stars. Without a window once the entire time.

The tablet-pad in the wall told him he still had an hour ‘till he was needed for anything. The massive window ledges called to him. They were hard, but wide enough and long enough for him to lay on them.

Lance stared out at the space beyond the glass. The infinite universe of stars and planets and cultures.

And silence. Without muddling noise or cheering crowds or hushed whispers or dying fear.

Just calm, clear silence.

A roar thundered through his mind, and he shot upwards, his eyes snapping open. When had he dozed off?

Fading growls echoed in his ears. Quickly being replaced by the ringing.

He just wanted a moment. Just to relax. To relax without shrill screams lingering in the background. He just wanted to escape it. Escape what it pushed him towards. Escape what it made him do.

Not now. Not now. Not now.

Not yet.

Lance worked to calm himself down. It’d been worse than this before and it’d be worse again. He just had to move around it.

Lance climbed off the window ledge and made his way to the wall tablet. He had to get to breakfast with the team.

God, Keith would be there.

God, Shiro would be there. He has the actual worst planning ever. Two fights in as many hours with people he literally can’t avoid.

“Ugh, breakfast is gonna be so awkward,” Lance groaned and then forced himself towards the dining room.

He was correct. Breakfast was insanely awkward. Both Keith and Shiro were there and he pointedly avoided making eye contact with them.

By staring at his goo.

Shiro cleared his throat, “So, today’s gonna be a training day. Just to get back in the rhythm.”

Ah, green goo.

“Of working together.”

Very….

“As a team.”

Green.

“Including a bonding session.”

Much goo. Very wow.

“Lance, unless you’ve discovered the secrets to Voltron in your goo, please listen to me.”

Lance lifted his eyes in a deadpan look, “I am listening and the goo says 42. I said I’d do it so let’s do it.” His chair scraped against the floor when he stood up. He wished it’d been louder.

“I really don't think mind-melding is something I want to do right after eating.” Hunk protested as he collected bowls to drop off in the kitchen.

“We’re not going swimming Hunk, you’ll be fine,” Pidge patted his shoulder in reassurance.

Once everyone had left the kitchen, they headed straight for the training room. Lance ahead of them, leaving tension in his wake. He just wanted this whole mess of a day to be over already.

Coran handed them the headbands in silence and they all sat together again. The same pattern as their first day as Voltron. But everything else was different, so very different.

“This is going to be a bit of a change from last time, since we’re trying to focus on just Lance. I’ve adjusted the headbands to compensate.”

“Let’s just get this over with.” Lance put his headband on, watching the others do the same.

“Relax and breath.”

Lance gritted his teeth against the ringing, he could handle it for now. For this.

“Let your minds connect. The flow between each of you is crucial to your bond as Voltron.”

Hunk reached out first, feeling the link snap into place. Except one. Something blocked him from Lance’s mind.

He tapped it, pressing curiously and shifting around the edges. Searching for the roots and the boundaries of it.

Pidge was second, she hit the wall harder than Hunk had, then followed his lead. Working to discover the problem. To learn.

“Lance, why aren’t you letting us in? You have to let us in for this to work at all.” Pidge snapped at him.

“Yes, I know that. But I can’t feel you guys,” Lance grumbled back.

“Then what’s wrong? Why can't we get in?” Keith argued as he banged against the mental block, trying to force it away.

“I don't know. I can’t feel any of you.”

“Just keep trying, I know we can do this,” Shiro pushed against the barrier between them, the team following suit.

“I can feel you guys now. Just a little.” Lance’s words sounded tight.

“It’s working, just a bit farther,” Hunk urged. They pressed harder.

“I- I don't know guys,” Lance paused for a second, his team didn't, “I think I have a headache-” Lance gasped.

A pulse shot through the wall, slamming into the paladins, forcing them out of the bond,

“GET. OUT. OF. MY. MIND!!”

It smashed against them, knocking them back forcefully.

Hunk wheezed from his place on the floor,

“owww.”

Everyone else groaned in agreement.

“Gaaah!” Lance shouted from his seat, pressing his palms to his temples in pain, “This doesn't make any- what was- but it didn't-”

“Hey, Lance, Lance, come on. What’s happening?” Shiro moved forward quickly on one knee, grabbing hold of his shoulders and trying to get him to look up. “Lance, what was that?”

“I don't know. I don't know what happened. But the moment you guys got pushed back, I remembered something.” Lance shook his head roughly.

“What?” Shiro let go of him and rocked back in surprise.

“You never said you had memory blanks.” Pidge pointed out at him from propped up on her elbows.

“I didn't- I don’t.” Lance tried to guarantee that as fact for himself, “But for a moment, when something lashed out at you, a memory came through. But it can't be mine. It can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because I haven’t forgotten anything! I hate it; but I remember everything!” Lance jerked out his hands, “I counted. I measured. I numbered every. single. day. At most I was off by a week, maybe two. But this isn't- It doesn't fit.”

“Wait, Lance, how long did you count?” This time it was Pidge that approached him. Getting as close as she could with her hologram wrist gauntlet.

“Ninety-one,” Lance yelled, “I was there for ninety-one days and I remember every goddamn one of them!”

“Wait but 91 days is only-” Hunk started in the background, but Pidge quickly interrupted.

“Ninety-one days only adds up to about three months.”

“And?”

“And you were missing for six months. Not three.” Pidge flipped around her hologram to show the numbers ticking past days on the calendar, finally stopping at 182.

Six Months.

Next Chapter: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/622144446399758336/chips-salsa-chp-7

First Chapter: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/613092735756402688/chips-and-salsa-chp-1

64 notes · View notes

xlady-saya · 5 years ago

Text

i’ve had a love of my own [ch 1]

Relationships: andrew/neil

Summary: Despite everything Neil could’ve imagined for his life, he never thought he’d be here, finally giving the world the interview they’ve always wanted.

It’s been decades, but even with his numerous accolades and sports wins, he finds that they’re the least important thing about his life.

Neil can’t help but laugh. Andrew would be so annoyed if he were here.

Of course, Neil only wants to talk about him, and the life they spent together.

Tags: interviews, post canon, major character death but not how u think I swear lol, neil is an old man retelling his memories about andrew, cheesy romance, post retirement, see more tags on ao3

Read on ao3!

Neil pricks himself on the old Palmetto pin as he fixes it to his collar, jabbing the same spot on his thumb he hit just a week before.

He hardly winces at the feeling these days, and for a long time, Matt joked about how he really couldn't go a day without attracting some form of violence. Neil smiles at the thought, because it's far from the truth. He stands by the claim he never asked for fights, simply had no problem finishing them.

"You mean letting me finish them," Andrew would quip, and they'd go back and forth all over again in a never-ending argument. It's so never-ending, Neil goes through the motions of it even now, however many decades later.

This pin tends to start it, since it's the only remotely dangerous thing he owns now. The orange is still bright and obnoxious, with criss crossing Exy racquets in a bright white. He's memorized the raised edges, tilted from old age. The once silver backing has rust spots, but no one ever sees that part. It has its reputation intact, and Neil smiles sardonically.

It's not the only thing that's been worn down, but he likes to think he doesn't look as bad as he could too. Laughing at his own joke, he taps the pin lightly. It's apparently vintage now, according to Allison, since the new Palmetto merch has drifted into neon territory.

Neil is glad he kept his own. It's especially important today, he thinks, that he shows as much fondness for the past as possible. Though, it's not for his sake. His room is nothing but littered with the tokens of the past.

Sighing, he stares fondly out across the living room, the walls haphazardly decorated with old, signed jerseys his friends used to wear. He has one from each of their old teams, but picked his favorites to go up on the wall. The rest sit in storage, ready to be auctioned off whenever he decides living is too much of a chore. Above the mantle, Andrew's racquet from his last team hangs in a shadow box. Then below it, framed pictures which Neil tries to rotate as best he can, some of them shitty ones converted from his phone camera. Mostly, they're of his Foxes at various points in their lives. The only two photos which stay the same are the one he took with Andrew and Kevin at the Olympics, and the snapshot of him and Andrew at the airport in his first year at Palmetto.

If he had to catalog the room, that would barely scratch the surface. He's pages away from mentioning Nicky's terribly made mugs, Betsy's first editions, and cookie tins filled with postcards Katelyn and Aaron sent twenty years ago.

Most of the time, the untidy collection of junk surrounding him is a comfort. It makes the small apartment feel like home, or as close as he can get when he's by himself. He swears some of the items still carry the unique scents of grass stains and floor polish, or Allison's perfume and the glitter glue from Dan and Matt's kids.

When that fails him, the candle he has in every room does the trick to fill in the blanks. Andrew used the same scent for over half their life together: breakfast pancakes. It's sickly sweet and stains the furniture, and Neil loves nothing more than to bury his face in the cushions after a day of having them lit.

These are the things that ground him, that keep him in place, but today he feels fidgety for the first time in years. He shouldn't be, he thinks, laughing to himself. He planned this after all, it's just...

Well, he's never been the best at talking to people.

There's a knock at his door, and the cuckoo clock on the wall (shockingly, that one is his fault) tells him it's right on schedule. Neil sighs, slipping his feet into the white slippers beneath him. "Come in, Sydney."

The nurse on his floor opens the door to his apartment with a smile, too fresh faced and early for this time of day. She’s young, and she's always been a bit cheery for his taste, but she reminds him of Katelyn and he allows it. In the last few years, when Andrew's migraines prevented him from reading, she'd bring him audiobook gift cards.

She smiles bright, and he gives her that look for her to cut it out. At this point, she's less put off by it and more amused. He only tells her to save the smiles because if she doesn't she'll have wrinkles like him years from now. He hates how much he sounds like Allison.

Neil hardly looks in the mirror anymore, but this morning he put in some effort. He looks as perpetually tired as he always looked back in the day, except now his eye bags are accompanied by wrinkles that form their own topographical map on his face.

At least he didn't lose all his hair.

The only thing is his blue eyes are as piercing as ever, so coupled with the grandpa look, he's quite intimidating. Not that he needs to be, but it's nice to feel a little capable when he can barely walk by himself anymore.

"Morning, Mr. Josten," Sydney greets, untucking the wheelchair from behind the door and pushing it over to him. He makes sure to grab Andrew's favorite crochet blanket. He hates messing with it, but he thinks the smell of nicotine it carries will help him today. Refresh his memory.

Neil grumbles, but lets her help him into the chair. He has on his good lounge pants, without holes, and his old Palmetto sweater. "I told you years ago I hate being called that."

"Because it makes you feel old," she jabs, teasing lightly. Even still, she's gentle when she places the blanket over his lap and hands him his glasses. "I have to keep you in line somehow."

"Ha-ha."

As she wheels him out of his room, he starts fidgeting again. He's used to exploring the luxury nursing home on his own time, not because he has somewhere to be. He hasn't had somewhere to be since...well, he hates thinking about that, lest he run into a memory that hurts more than helps.

Today isn't the day for that.

Some other, more able-bodied residents pass by him on foot, waving amicably and knowing better than to expect a wave back. Shockingly, he's well liked here, probably because he doesn't have rowdy grandkids who break the peace. Plus, he's pretty sure some of them are old fans.

Sydney leans down as they pass through the common area and into one of the meeting rooms, the spotless linoleum floor throwing him off as usual. He never would've picked a place so expensive and fancy for himself, but Andrew was always someone with classy tastes. "Ready for today?"

At the reminder, Neil wrings his fingers together. Not advised by his doctor, but fuck that guy. "As ready as I'll ever be," he says, glaring at the glass doors ahead. Sydney laughs, placing him at the end of a large table. The meeting room creeps him out, since it's mostly used for family meetings or will planning appointments. Sound proof, silent.

"Oh hush, you're a famous athlete, I'm sure you've faced worse," she chides, pouring him a glass of water without any ice. Because he's a fiend. Neil rolls his eyes; she has no idea. He's threatened countless reporters before for stepping even a toe out of line, but some recent college grads from an indie publication are making him sweat more than an Exy game. Sydney makes a show of whispering behind her hand. "Besides, I heard from Gabe at the front desk they look terrified, so go easy on them, yes? Can't have another cafeteria incident."

Ugh, not that again.

"You have no witnesses," he waves off, leaning back in his seat while Sydney sets the break in place. Only then is he hit with a wave of calm, fondness even. His quivering hands curl as best they can in the blanket, the ghost of a grip, and he smiles out across the room. Ah, he can't be doing this already, but it's hard to help. He itches for the smell of a cigarette, a press on the back of his neck. Closing his eyes, he tries his best to feel it. "Besides, once they know why they're really here they won't be nearly so stressed. Hell, they might even be disappointed."

He tries not to grimace at that, but for the time he's giving them and the paperwork he made them sign, they're going to sit and listen to his old man ravings all day or so help him--

He feels a hand brush against his, and when he looks Sydney is there. She squeezes his fingers in hers, smile fond and weighed down with a sadness so foreign, he nearly regrets telling her to cut it out. But no, he understands. He's the one who understands the most. She grazes the fabric of the blanket as she pulls away, breathing in the same smoke he can for just a moment. "No, I don't think that's possible."

She doesn't give Neil time to doubt himself, not that he could. He can never doubt anything when it comes to Andrew, no matter how much the blond secretly doubted about himself. Neil always teased him for that, and his living oxymoron ways.

Neil's biggest goal of the day is to piss off Andrew's ghost as much as humanly possible, and his grin is nearly splitting at the thought. Fine, mission active.

"Good luck!" Sydney calls as she leaves the meeting room, and he watches her gesture to his guests once they arrive through the glass doors.

Oh shit, they really do look terrified.

The two interviewers see him through the door and Neil can only assume they shit a brick. They're young, can't be more than a few years out of university, dressed way too professionally for someone as uncaring as Neil. They could've shown up in clown costumes for all he cared, at least he would've gotten a good laugh.

The young man fumbles with the door and his companion rushes forward a little too fast before correcting herself. Jeez.

Neil does his best to hide his laugh, not that he's ever been polite. It's more...

Their terror is Neil's fault. He started declining interviews soon after he retired, letting his name and lifestyle fade into mystery and speculation with the public. Kevin had not been happy about it, since to this day he and Thea are in the public eye, commentating on Exy games, doing talk shows, helping curate museums, blah, blah, blah...

Neil didn't have time for that.

He never thought he'd be okay with slipping back into unknown status after so many years of being seen, being cheered for, but when the time came it was an easy choice. Andrew made it so. Neil had his time to be free, to do whatever he wanted and play the sport he loved. But ultimately, when he no longer could, fucking off to do whatever he wanted with Andrew sounded way better than dealing with reporters and overzealous fans.

Just because he became an unknown though, doesn't mean he faded into obscurity. According to Allison, his life has been quite a hot button issue in the community for over a decade. People want to know where he's been, what he did during those years, how he looks back on the past, everything. It's been obnoxious.

Popular sports magazines and large publications have practically been clawing for a piece of him for years, and he's never given in no matter how many fruit bouquets they sent or how many checks they tried to write him. Though, one almost got him purely because they kept sending gourmet chocolates, and if Andrew was a glutton before, old age only made it worse.

So, Neil Josten is back to being a subject of interest for some reason, someone people want to know everything about. For him to randomly call up a dying indie magazine and offer them full rights to an interview under his specific terms surely threw the sports world into a fucking whirl.

Whatever.

He's going to share what he wants to share. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Mr. Jo--" The first reporter clears his throat, passing his notepad and phone over to his other hand before outstretching one to Neil. "Mr. Josten. It's such an honor to meet you, um, wow. I'm Blake, and this is Rayah. We're so grateful for being granted the opportunity to interview you. You're a legend!"

Neil stares at the outstretched hand like he doesn't know what to do with it, and as much as he does know what's expected of him, part of his hesitation is equal parts his disinterest and the fact he doesn't talk to anyone but his remaining family these days. Well, and Sydney.

Blake swallows and drops his hand, surely admonishing himself for his own stupidity.

Rayah saves him. "Um, we really are appreciative, sir," she says, laying out some notepads and setting up her recorder. Old school, Neil appreciates it. It's better than cameras and microphones. "We're still in shock honestly. We were theorizing on why you picked us the entire drive up here!"

"Neil is fine, and don't bother with small talk I know it's not why you're here," he says then, smiling at her words. They both flinch, taken aback. He's not sure why they'd be expecting a Kevin Day type. He has a record for being too blunt and argumentative for his own good. He's right though; they're here for answers, not discussions on how he's doing or what he does for fun in his not so humble nursing home. In much the same vein, he promised honesty, so he'll give it from the start. "I picked you precisely because you're unknown and failing."

They freeze, but they're clearly not Foxes. If they were, they'd immediately get indignant and glare, hold themselves back from punching a helpless old man. Oh, those were the good ol' days.

When Rayah fumbles for a response, a logic, Neil simply shrugs. "I like the underdogs."

He doesn't intend it to be, but it's a tension breaker. The stiffness in the reporters' shoulders deflate with a laugh, and they finally get back to organizing themselves without looking like they want to run for the hills and beg ESPN to take over.

"As your history suggests," Blake jokes, and Neil rewards him with a grin, tapping his Foxes pin.

He doesn't mention the fact Andrew would've never spoken to him had he gone to some trashy magazine, and that Andrew was always a bit of a rebel himself, though he hated to admit to any kind of urge that didn't involve Neil, sweets, or fancy cars.

Neil takes the free moment to wrap his blanket around his shoulders, letting the ingrained smell of ash permeate around him. Much better, he can think so much clearer like this.

As they finish setting up and take their seats across from him, Blake taps his pencil against the rim of his notepad. It looks like he almost wants to launch back into small talk, but thinks better of it when he remembers Neil's words. Considerate, a good listener. Just what Neil needs today.

Blake clears his throat, cutting through the bullshit. "Now, we know you have specific terms for how you want to lead this interview, which we're completely fine with. Wherever you want to start, we'll follow."

And with that, they sit back, unsure but ready to catch whatever morsel of information might fall from Neil's lips. Again, he finds himself fighting a smirk.

Of course, he led these people astray a bit, but he doesn't see the problem with having a little fun before revealing his true intentions.

He nods, pushing down the giddy feeling that always comes with talking about Andrew. Not yet, but soon.

"Hm, I assume you prepared some questions just in case," Neil asks, taking a sip of his water.

Rayah blinks, exchanging a look with Blake. She rifles through her notepad to a page in the middle, scribbled and stained with ink. There are so many questions on it, some of them curve over the others in a painful word twister. "Uh yes but, we didn't think you'd want to answer them," she guesses.

She's correct.

Neil loathes interview questions, because they're predictable. But in this case, he'll let the first one lead him down the road.

Neil relents, leaning back in his wheelchair. "Well you're mostly right, but why don't you ask me your first one?" He offers, and they look positively ecstatic. "That'll get me started."

And once he starts, he doubts he'll be able to stop.

"Sure." Blake clears his throat, making sure his recorder is functioning properly. When he's satisfied, he leans back, mirroring Neil's posture, though the rigidity is still there. If he doesn't lighten up, he's going to have back pains for days. "Now, there have been a lot of milestones in your career as a pro athlete. No one would dream of disputing your skill in the sport, or how you earned any of your countless awards--"

"Flattery," Neil warns, raising a single finger. That's not what he's here for either. In fact, as much as this is his interview, it's not about him at all.

"Right," Blake says with a huff of a laugh. "But surely one of your brightest moments was your historic win at the Olympics. It was talked about for months within the community. Of course, any true Exy fan knows the details of the game, it was only covered by every major publication. So, I guess our question is, what do you most remember about that moment? Was it as monumental for you as it was for Exy fans?"

Ah, a predictable question, but also not a bad place to begin. Neil doesn't fight the edge of the smirk that appears, though he does raise his thumb to swipe at it. It's been a while since he's felt so mischievous, it's so difficult to be, well, difficult when you're being wheeled around all day.

It was a monumental moment for him, though maybe not for the reasons everyone else would think.

"You certainly did your research," he comments, humming as he sits back in thought. He already knows his answer, but he's weak, and the feelings the memory evokes barely need to push him to send him careening off balance. Swept up. "Not sure what I was expecting from people so young, but my apologies for making assumptions."

He's glad they didn't ask the question in the stereotypical format, fishing for ways to brag and make it all about him. When he thinks of that time, as proud as he was, it's not his own praise that comes to mind.

With that in mind, Neil sighs.

"I don't think it was an exaggeration to say that was one of the best days of my life," he admits, and it's the truth. He's not here to lie. Come to think of it, he hasn't lied once since Andrew ran on ahead of him. Smiling, Neil lets the words flow.

"It was important to me, but not all because of the Olympics themselves..."

Neil rarely has time to pay attention in Exy games, as horrible and inefficient as that sounds.

His feet move on their own accord like a well-oiled machine, cogs and steam rushing through him to propel him across the court at record speeds. And they are record speeds.

That's why he's here isn't it? To run, to score.

It had been overwhelming when he first arrived, the sheer size of the Exy court at the Olympics. It's surrounded by flags from all over the world, bright neon signs and sponsorships. The lights at the entrance had been so vibrant, he made the mistake of looking up at them.

Blinding.

All aspects about it are, because as much as Neil knows this is his life, it can't possibly be reality.

The crowd makes the one at the Ravens' stadium seem minuscule, out of its league with seats and aisles that almost climb up to the heavens. The crowd roars and Neil feels every cheer and stomp echo against his bones.

He never thought he'd be here, but despite the gravity of it, he no longer has the time nor want to dwell on it. All that matters is his team, and getting them the gold.

Being with Andrew afterwards...getting to see Wymack smile proudly at Kevin.

Letting Kevin be proud of himself.

And Neil is an Olympic-qualified player, so with all that in mind, he delivers the second best game of his life. Even in the final seconds of the second half, even when he's been body checked so many times the nuts and bolts he imagines inside him must surely be worn and off-kilter, he doesn't stop moving. Everything is instinct, from the force of his steps to the last minute shifts he needs to intercept the ball.

It's not Kevin's perfect strategy, it's not a map or an out of body experience where he can see where every player on the court is.

He has no idea what's going on outside of what's in front of him, no awareness of anything but the immediate threats and a certain beacon, standing in the goal.

And that's the hardest part of it all, not being able to look over at Andrew for even a moment after he scores, because the game is fast and ruthless, and he has twice the energy of anyone on this court.

It's a stupid way to play, if he's really supposed to be Kevin's double. But they all long since established he is far from it. He has his own passion, his own drive, and Kevin trusts Neil with his life on the court.

Probably through anything.

So when he sees the perfect opportunity for a final interception, a chance to get them the last winning goal of the game, he's surprised that it's the one moment where it all comes to a stop. He's never had the experience before; normally his body snaps into action. He's not used to comprehending things until they're said and done.

He thinks his body is still following through though, turning in just the right way, making sure he's lined up.

But Neil is aware of so much more, his eyes train like a predator's on the goal, and he understands. He has a choice.

Choices are a weird luxury now, but he's gotten so used to having the freedom of them, he's forgotten the sheer magnitude they can carry.

His eyes snap to the goal, and then to Kevin. Kevin, who is so much closer, and already looking right at Neil.

And Neil never describes himself as fond towards most people, but he can say it proudly in that moment. This is the Kevin Day he likes to see.

Green eyes stare back, blown wide with a fire that can't be matched by anyone, probably not even his own mother, maybe not even Neil. A true, unadulterated love for this violent, freeing sport. Kevin catches Neil's eyes through his face guard, forehead drenched in sweat but his entire being rings with energy, ready and unwilling to quit until the buzzer sounds.

A Fox, at heart. Neil knows Andrew can see from where he's standing in goal, and Neil knows he's just as satisfied, deep down. It might give him some peace of mind too, to know Kevin kept his spine.

Neil puts all of those emotions into his last movement of the game.

He inclines his head just so, and that's it.

Kevin moves.

As Neil's racquet intercepts the ball from the other team's striker, he can't help but be a bit smug as he takes a powerful step forward. He can hear the painful slide of his shoes against the court floor, the heat of being too close, too exposed.

His legs will surely be shot after this, but no matter.

Kevin Day was always meant to be the greatest player in the history of Exy, the reigning queen, despite the arrogance they'll surely have to hear non-stop about. Fine. It's only fair that Neil help him achieve that goal here, at the biggest stadium in the world.

(By no means the best one, but still).

The clock gets down to five seconds, the beats resounding off the walls of his skull. Neil swings his racquet with such force the strings whistle, and the ball moves in a straight line directly into Kevin's. The other striker has zero time to react, the force of Neil's brutal cut off sending him stumbling. The ball hits Kevin's strings hard, Kevin's grip tightening around his racquet to keep it close to him.

Kevin doesn't hesitate longer than that.

He shoots at the goal in one fluid arch, and scores.

As confident as Neil is in Kevin's aim and skill, he'll admit his stomach swoops. It's a feeling that never truly goes away, much like the instincts that keep him moving. He wouldn't trade it for anything, that millisecond exhilaration before it comes together.

Because well, at one point nothing ever fell into place for him.

In the flash where the ball hits the net, Neil feels the ghost of a key in his palm, reminding him when that changed. The buzzer of the countdown blares, and all that anticipation meets a well-deserved end.

The stadium erupts until not even the buzzer can be heard. There's a swish of plexiglass doors, the sounds of their coach yelling in triumph, but Neil's body is too spent to react.

Neil's heart constricts in his chest as he tries to get air in, but it's impossible. Satisfied doesn't even begin to cover it, though he's sure he looks just as breathless as Kevin does, staring at the goal as it lights up. The world moves around him, respecting his moment of privacy when they should be hoisting him up and not allowing him a minute of disbelief. Neil's glad they don't; Kevin deserves to look surprised once in a while.

His teammates pile on each other, clapping him as they pass. A lot of them are still in shock, a few fall to their knees right away, but Neil feels nothing but fulfilled.

He made the right call.

His body sags, stinging, and he feels Andrew's gaze pinning him upright from across the court. It's the only thing that gets him walking, but he wills himself not to look in his boyfriend's direction.

If he does well...nothing else will matter, and there's one thing he has to do.

In a haze, he goes over to Kevin, who turns, sensing him. Neil shakes his head at Kevin's arrogance to this day, because even though Kevin is the one who made this possible for him, who came to him first...

Well, he still lets Neil do all the work. Neil laughs and hugs Kevin fiercely, barely keeping himself upright, and they trade the trembling in their bodies. Kevin drops his racquet, their height difference making them look all the more pathetic. He can hear Andrew's voice already, telling them they're too emotional about a damn sport.

Somehow, that makes Neil even happier, and he leans back as Kevin pries his helmet off, eyes wild and smiling.

Yes, the right choice. Absolutely.

"We did it," Kevin says, but not in disbelief. He had to have known they'd always make it here. "We did it."

Neil squeezes his friend's shoulder and grins, uncaring of what camera catches it. He's too damn happy to care. "Guess we did."

The crowd cheers so loud Neil can't hear more than a faint buzz in his ears, and the sticky scent of gatorade and sweat is an unfortunate addition. The cameras flash and shine obnoxiously through the double plexiglass to bathe them in light and attention.

Yet, with his legs feeling like jelly and his muscles stretched to the limits, there's only one thing he really wants. What he always wants.

Warmth, safety, something to lean on and keep him sheltered from the world before facing it alongside him. Neil hates that before, the only thing he yearned for was to play Exy. He thought that was bad.

This is so much worse.

Biting his lip, Neil turns to where Andrew is standing in the goal, already looking at him from across the court. And Andrew, with all his control, keeps himself planted there. Neil's breathing hiccups loudly, and Kevin's probably the only one who hears it over the cacophony.

Neil doesn't think he can cry anymore, but his eyes tighten up, he has to blink the pain away.

Neil wonders if Andrew's gripping his racquet hard enough to damage it, if he's digging his heels into the ground like Neil is.

Neil swallows down the lump in his throat. Suddenly, he hates the cameras more than usual; he's torn between wanting them to vanish completely, or wishing they paid as much attention to Andrew, because god, he's earned it.

Neil digs his heels in harder.

I want to be with you.

It's such a simple string of thought; it has crossed his mind so many times before, but never has the urge hurt so much. It has nothing to do with all he's worked for, with the fame and recognition this win will bring him. It's just Andrew.

He hasn't had a knife to his skin in years, but this reminds him of the piercing of flesh, lighting his nerves on end and sending him towards the source of his relief, his contentment.

Andrew played so well, so well, not just here. He worked his way through the pros until he got to Neil, worked his ass off for his reputation. He qualified with the rest of them to be here.

And tonight, he blocked almost every shot at his goal.

Neil closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down but he can't. This is one of the best moments of his life. If he can't share it with Andrew to the fullest, what was the point of everything in his past?

They're not out. That's the problem, he knows, as much as he doesn't give a single fuck. No one outside their family and management knows anything about them, apart from some tabloid rumors about their intense dislike of one another. If that doesn't prove how clueless the media is, Neil doesn't know what does.

And as much as they value privacy, as much as their peaceful bubble is enough, it's moments like these where Neil wants to take and show no matter the consequences.

He looks to Kevin, unsure. It's always been him, the one who warned them about the backlash they'd face despite his acceptance of their relationship years ago.

Neil expects the same thing here: the subtle shake of Kevin's head, the concern in his eyes for their careers and future. It used to piss Neil off to no end, but Kevin communicates all emotion through Exy, even concern. Neil's learned to read between those infuriating lines. The importance of career translates to 'without your career, there is no you.' Sometimes he forgets he's not entirely free.

And if he weren't around, then Andrew...

'You can't leave him.'

And so, knowing Kevin's language, Neil stayed in line, and he expects that same advice today. To his surprise though, it never comes. Kevin is looking at him, tired smile firmly in place as he nudges a shoulder in Andrew's direction. Neil's mouth falls open, and yes, he's convinced now. It's a dream, it's all one big dream. Except--

Kevin shakes his head. It's not resigned, or worried. He's just happy for them both. He pushes Neil away, straightening his back in preparation for his fans. Royal snob. "Go on already. You guys are gross."

And despite the laugh that falls from his mouth, Neil's breathing stutters, and he hadn't realized how wound up he truly was until it happens. His lungs fill with air and he throws his racquet to the ground. His self-control is poor, they all know that. Encouragement is all he needs to break him and send him where he belongs.

He takes off in a full sprint towards Andrew as the rest of his teammates crowd Kevin, looking after Neil in confusion.

Huh, so his muscles still work after all. The tendons are on fire, but it's the least of his concerns. He runs like his life depends on it again, faster than he ran during that whole game.

And to Neil's absolute delight, Andrew's body language screams 'finally.'

The blond takes a step forward, throwing his racquet to the side like it's worthless. Oh. Andrew's bracing to catch him, and Neil laughs at the realization as he throws off his helmet. One day he'll actually make Andrew fall over, but for now he enjoys the strength.

He jumps into Andrew's arms effortlessly, feels calloused hands wrap around his waist as Neil reaches for the clips of Andrew's helmet. Despite knowing the barrier is there as he fumbles with it, he leans forward, lips grazing the metal guard. Andrew huffs, and Neil claws until the helmet clatters to the floor. He throws it a bit far, and it hits the goal post with a clang, but he doesn't care in the moment. If all eyes are on them now, he can't feel them. They're in a vacuum, a side effect of being so taken with Andrew at times. Unaware, vulnerable. The rush of sound from before goes dead around them. His fingertips can feel overheated skin, can trace the barely-there freckles on Andrew's face.

Andrew isn't in the mood to let Neil admire today.

Neil barely gets to see the color in Andrew's eyes before the goalie's hand grips in between Neil's shoulder blades, pulling him down.

It reminds him of their first kiss; Neil catches Andrew's lips and, as if not believing they're real, that something could feel so wonderful, he pulls back. His eyes widen, the first hit of a drug. He breaks the kiss only to dive right back in, uncoordinated but so sure of himself. And he doesn't get how, but Andrew smells the same as back then. Less like cigarettes, but the same smell of leather and earthiness. Neil doesn't read nearly as much as Andrew does to have the capability of describing it, but it's refreshing, like soil after the rain. Through the sweat and exhaustion, Neil would know him anywhere.

Andrew opens his mouth for him first, breath hot but movements predictable. Neil will tease him later for that. You're getting old. Because the dance is so familiar, the way Andrew pushes Neil's tongue back first. 'Come and get me.'

Neil obliges every single time, because he can't back down from a challenge, and maybe he's getting old too.

Neil knows the kiss can't last forever, especially not here, but he allows himself to pretend it's not the case. Andrew hums into him, and Neil's hands feel all the vibrations from where his hand slips down to Andrew's throat. It's bared completely for him, and Neil gives a little squeeze.

He sighs into Andrew's mouth when his boyfriend's eyes open to glare at him, pulling back before kissing Neil again, and then one more time, and maybe just once...

One more, Neil thinks, brushing his lips against Andrew's so lightly they stick for a moment, and he licks his own slowly when he pulls back for the final time. His heart beats in his ribcage, or maybe that's the pounding of the reporters' feet as they rush through the stadium, he's not sure.

Again, it's always best for him to not look at Andrew if he's supposed to be doing something else, because in that moment, the blond has all Neil's attention.

They're already pressed chest to chest, but Andrew squeezes tighter, almost painful, keeping Neil there through the flashing of cameras and shocked cheers.

And while Andrew's expression gives nothing away for the public, it speaks volumes to Neil.

Neil didn't know what old meant back then, now that his legs give out after a good walk or his spine aches under the weight of nothing.

But they were predictable, that much was true.

Neil isn't looking at the reporters anymore, too focused on trying to weave the fraying threads of the blanket back into place. From their silence, he can guess they're as shocked as he expected them to be.

Unaffected, Neil reaches over for his water, taking a sip as he confronts their slack jaws and wide eyes.

Now, that might have been a bit unfair of him as well, to jump into such a blatant romantic recollection about Andrew. Again, Neil never took interviews, rarely took questions, but the subject of his relationship with Andrew was especially off limits for decades. What they had was theirs, and only theirs, even after outing themselves that day.

People naturally tried to pry, tried to dig up their past in hopes of justifying what they saw as a nonsensical relationship or gossip fuel.

Neil made them fear for their lives after that.

He eviscerated publications, reporters, top sports officials, talk shows hosts, pretty much whoever he needed to. Anything to keep Andrew's name out of their mouths. A lot of them sealed their place in the land of irrelevancy, media outlets were slammed by a combination of their fans, and Kevin's too, once he stood up in support.

Andrew always hated it, Neil's desperate need to protect him from words that no longer phased him, but Neil didn't care. It was one of the only things they fought about in their adult years.

It worked though; soon, all the major outlets aside from the tabloids stopped talking about it, knowing mentioning it in any way that wasn't positive or neutral would land them in a ton of hot water.

Even those online sources who refused to let up eventually fizzed out from lack of material; they tried their best to be nosy, but pretty much got nothing but some rare paparazzi photos a few times a year of them kissing in the park or on a date.

In short, it's a bit of an unspoken rule that you don't talk to Neil Josten about Andrew Minyard unless you have nothing but good things to say, and a lot of people are too chicken shit to take the risk and potentially insult him. That's the only disappointing thing, none of them have a shred of courage. Neil really would talk all day about Andrew if people just approached it correctly.

Not that Andrew would've allowed it when he was alive.

Take that.

Despite all the fear Neil instilled in the media, it never stopped the other famous Foxes from talking about how gooey and devoted he and Andrew were, but Neil let that slide.

The things he does for family.

So it makes sense that these reporters seemed to have forgotten Andrew's importance at all, another offense. Not just because he was the best goalie in Exy history, but because Neil was first and foremost, Andrew's.

Blake's mouth opens and closes, pen dangling precariously from his hand. "Are...are we allowed to ask about Andrew?"

Blake even flinches after he asks it, afraid that perhaps it's only okay for Neil to bring up.

If you only knew.

Neil laughs, too relaxed to hold back anymore. The reporters stare, exchanging nervous glances with excitement tingling below the surface.

Yes, he supposes details about his relationship with Andrew are more secretive and sought after than even Neil's opinions. The reporters weren't even going to try.

But now, there's morsels of information dangling in front of them, and Neil need only give them permission. It's their lucky day.

Neil's smile fades into something gentler, wistful. It's the closest he gets now, to how he looked at Andrew. But it's still different, because that expression...

Well, Andrew is gone. What more is there to say?

Neil leans back, wringing his hands softly. "I guess it's only fair that I tell you the real reason I accepted this interview."

The reporters lean forward, holding their breath, but Neil doesn't feel like making them wait. It's all about Andrew now, like he wanted it to be. "I want to talk about Andrew, plain and simple."

Except when it's not.

Their relationship was anything but simple but Neil cherished each memory, and he wants to speak them aloud so no one forgets. He wants everyone to know how important this person was to him, so when he's gone and can't defend them, people can't speculate or taint it with their unasked for opinions.

"I've never had the opportunity to really reminisce about Andrew, not even with my family," Neil admits. He and Aaron and Katelyn would sit around the fireplace at their home sometimes, telling stories, or Kevin would send him old pictures or clips of Andrew playing. But never the intimate details, never the raw, and at times complicated feelings. "It never felt right, even after he was gone. I wanted to keep it close still, so I wouldn't betray Andrew's trust."

Neil takes a deep breath, and it shakes his small frame, a cough escaping his lungs. His voice is rough, but no less sure when he continues. "But I know now what he'd say to that. That I couldn't, even if my dumb Exy brain tried really hard."

But he'd never.

He smiles, wiping his eyes when they aren't even wet. That's another thing he misunderstood back then. Neil thought he couldn't cry, but he's sure today he'll prove his younger self wrong.

Rayah and Blake stay silent through all of Neil's pauses, and the respect means more than he can say. Andrew would approve, he'd be okay with Neil's choice. That's what matters most, he thinks.

"For once I just want everyone to know how I felt, I want to tell you everything as I saw and felt it, so you can tell everyone else," Neil says, and hopes they can read between the lines for the rest. Ultimately, when he's dead he'll be nothing but bones in the dirt, his legacy won't mean much in the long run. But...if nothing else, he wants this to remain, for as long as it can.

He never cared before about it, but he guesses age really can put a new perspective on things. Neil sighs, and taps the table with his finger for lack of anything better to do. When he looks back up, he has their undivided attention, Rayah's brown eyes shining with unshed emotion. None of that, not yet. "Anyways, now that you know I misled you, I hope you're still alright with listening to me ramble for the next few hours."

If not, they can kindly fuck off, but Neil has his suspicions at this point that they'll stick around. As much as Neil prides himself on reading people's intentions well, he's quite horrible at reading people's feelings. But maybe he's improved in that arena too.

A price for everything, he thinks ruefully, reminding himself there's a break in between this session for him to take his pain pills.

Eventually, it's Rayah who stutters a response. "Of course it's alright! We're so honored! And not just in the...bullshit way."

She closes her mouth immediately after at the unprofessionalism of it, but it only makes Neil feel more at ease. He smirks, satisfied. "Noted."

"Mr. Jo--Neil, we really are happy to write about you and Andrew but I have to admit," Blake says, flipping through his notepad with a tight look on his face. "The questions we did prepare as backup don't exactly lend themselves to anything about your life with Andrew."

It's precisely why Neil stated he'd mostly be doing the talking initially, but their first test question actually did end up helping move him along, so...

Neil shrugs, gesturing to the notebook with fierce determination.

These people are about to learn...

He can make anything about Andrew.

When he smiles at the two of them again, they must feel it deep down. They return it tenfold, and then Rayah clicks her pen.

And with the pleasantries out of the way, Neil opens up to everything he's been keeping locked away.

"Try me."

#andreil #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten

37 notes · View notes

quant-um-fizzx · 5 years ago

Text

Relenting

Synopsis: James Barnes had always been sweet, until he wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, your mutual attraction took a turn. Now, you can’t tell if he’s playing with you or playing you. Then, fate forces some honesty.

Warnings: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader. Smut, Dub-Con (Sex Pollen, my friends), Language, (some) Angst, elements of stalking & emotional manipulation. Explicit, rough sex, slight anal play. Literally the most dirty talk I’ve ever written.

Word Count: 5900

If you’ve come here expecting the comedy erotica or angst I write elsewhere, this is not for you.

This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s writing challenge from the prompt: “Just a little more, baby.” (How we got here from there, I’ll never know.)

I’ve labeled this Dark!Bucky, but he’s probably more gray than dark. But not the soft, uses-all-the-bath-salts-when-you’re-out-of-town Bucky I’d consider more canon.

*****

No one can pinpoint when, nobody’s ready to say it out loud, but Barnes came back different. Off.

Wrong.

Might’ve been that mission in the Midwest (of all places to find that kind of cult) or when someone got it in their fool head to send him to verify exactly what the stone status was on Vormir. Your money’s on the veiled gateway rift that sucked him in but spit two out; he’d beaten his wild-eyed spare and flung it back into the void the moment it’d lunged for you.

Chances are it’s not a solitary event, but the culmination of everything. One could hardly blame him if it were.

Whatever, whenever, he’s not the same. Speech now often sly, maneuvering. Manners slipping into predatory where they’d always been soft.

Sometimes, you think you’re imagining it - cold glint like metal chips in ice eyes - that maybe you only see him differently because of failed romance.

Now, he delights in flustering you. Taunting and near cruel one moment. Playful, protective the next. Makes it nearly impossible to get a read on him.

You find, in spite of your better judgement, uncertainty is its own kind of clever seduction.

“Hey, I know this isn’t really my business, but whatever happened there?” Bruce inclines his head toward where Barnes stalks by outside the lab windows. His second pass since you started to prepping vials for transport. Dark, rough strides. He slips out of view and the lab seems colder. Sleek, sterile. Your mind conjures up memories of sandalwood on fleece, in stark contrast to the lab’s xylene and bitter almond air. “Everyone thought you two were a good match.”

You smile, wistful. Mourning. “I had hoped so, too. But,” you sigh, “what makes good theory does not necessarily work in practical execution.”

Banner tsks. “Shame. Ever since you came on board, you both used to get along so well. Even now, he still looks at you like you ought to be picking out curtains.”

You scoff. “‘Used to get along’ until he...never mind. Whatever Sergeant Barnes might really want, it’s not that. And definitely not that with me.” He’d made that perfectly clear.

Suddenly, as if he’d heard you - but he shouldn't have, couldn’t have - Barnes pauses outside. His glance locks on your eyes. You fumble and clink the glass against the tray’s edge.

Bruce shakes his head, gently using a tremendously large, green hand to steady the tongs you hold. “Careful there. Breaking that in here? Could’ve been ugly.”

“Doctor Banner,” you say, placing the final vial in its slot and trying to shift your attention from the man outside, “your report indicated that universal precautions were sufficient for international transport of these ‘classified contagion’ samples. As I have committed to hand-carrying them, despite possessing insufficient clearance to be privileged with details, if it would be best to utilize hazmat gear and airborne pathogen protocols, not only would I appreciate a full disclosure I would consider it your due diligence to do so.”

He nods. “You’re right. You’re right. It’s really an unknown at this point. I’m just being cautious. Using any iteration of the Hulk as a guinea pig is a scenario I strive to avoid.”

“Fair enough.” You click the lid closed, the half dozen tubes of churning red haze goo nestled securely inside. “Do I wait there for test results?”

“Nah,” Bruce says, already on the way back to his microscope. “Thorough runs could take longer than we can spare you here.”

Smiling, you return your lab coat to it’s hook, smooth your hair, and give the station a once-over, making sure everything has been completed properly. This also serves as a welcome delay to going out those doors and encountering the long-haired enigma who has plagued your thoughts for longer than you care to admit.

“On second thought,” Banner says, peering up over the eyepiece. “She could have a prelim synthesis to send back in no time. Their tech is so different.”

Taking a deep breath, you gather your gear and subtly check if Barnes is still nearby. Being off-kilter around him, while handling what you suspect is more dangerous than Bruce is letting on, is the last thing you need.

Being around Barnes doesn’t feel cordial the way it used to. Warm banter that had felt safe.

You can’t get a read on him, aren’t sure how you feel around him, about him.

You don’t love him. Probably easily could.

You might fear him. Probably, definitely should.

You do...care.

Lately, day in, day out, he’s there. Stalking along the periphery, a shuck peering out from woodlands.

He’s charming, affable enough for everyone else’s comfort. He used to be with you, too.

Even in a crowded room, he - sullen growl of a man - used to seem alone. The kind of alone that oozes off a person, rolls out from his shoulders. Used to it. Accustomed to it.

Trust only it.

When you first tried - heart in your throat and skin gooseflesh - when you first stepped up to that guy, part matinee idol, part drive-in backseat rogue, he’d turned in on himself. Tried to force his large frame to disappear. Behind his barriers, he’d just watched you. Wary. Accessing.

But the next time he’d been holding the wall up, ale bottle in loose metal grip, you didn’t have to look for an opening. He’d lifted his chin and inclined his head toward chairs.

After that, the pair of you could be found engaged in long, private conversations. Content to let whatever ruckus go on around you. Foreheads nearly touching. Fingers not-so-casually brushing together. Your stomach flutters at the memory.

Now, his attention makes the hair on your neck stand up at least as much as it travels down your belly, between your thighs. Puts you on edge, mouse batted between paws.

When you exit the lab, he’s waiting. Leans his back against a column, arms folded. Legs crossed at the ankles, pants taunt were they wrap around his thighs. His eyes flick to you, his only perceived movement. “Whatcha got there, Red?” He draws each word out as if puffing smoke.

Your eyes go wide before you can stop them. Left corner of his mouth ticks up, goal met.

The nickname startles you for a moment. It always does. He dusts the name off, digs it out once in awhile, just when you’ve almost forgotten. When you’ve let your mind scab over that single, awkward date. Forgotten how once upon a time, even his team thought you’d “be good together” and made that final push to fix you up.

It had been right after the rift clone incident. If you’d not been so caught up in him - that red warmth that unfurled in your chest - you should’ve known. Paid attention to his shift, his change. The tragedy of it all.

You’d worn a crimson silk column dress, French twist, Replique dotted on pulse points.

He’d worn black jeans and blood-dirt under his nails.

Peering at you over his menu, he’d dropped it down and motioned between you both. “You took this seriously, huh?”

Only just enough to have waxed everything reasonably prudent.

Crestfallen, your shoulders dropped. Clearly, you thought, you’d misread the prior conversations, his lingering looks, mistakenly thought he returned your interest.

Cheeks on fire, you’d started to fold your napkin and push your chair back. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. I won’t take up any more of your time. You may return to the Olympic-level brooding of which you are so fond and I will retire for the evening.”

He’d thrown his head back, barked what might’ve been a laugh. “You’ll ‘retire for the evening?’“ Shook his head. “Red, you’re too much.” He grabbed a waiter - not ours, but Barnes didn’t let that stop him - “Bring us that special and a bottle of whatever makes uptight dames spread their legs these days.”

You sat still, mouth open, staring at your fork.

He reached out, took your hand in his. Seemed to apologize with his eyes. They held yours, sky fading into sapphire. Held you without touching you.

You look up behind lashes. “Dinner is just...we can have a good time. Talk.”

“Yeah, let’s have the Blue Plate. See how it goes.,” he said.

Then, the air had shifted, when he seemed...vulnerable...he pulled away.

By the end of the night, the pulse pounds in your ears. You’d talked and laughed and when he walked you home, you knew you’d invite him in. You’d always known.

He’d walked you to your door, eight-to-ten now-uncharacteristically chivalrous inches between your bodies on the way up the steps. Single bulb buzzing overhead. The key had proven elusive. Always on its ring and placed in the back pocket of your purse, your shaking fingers had let it slip down somewhere in your bag.

He stepped in closer behind you, looking over your shoulder, breath passing over the shell of your ear. “You need a hand there?”

You jolted up straight, back bumping into his chest. “Thank you,” your voice cracked, “but I think I can manage unlocking my own stupid door.” You inhaled sharply through your nose. “Excuse me,” you said, sounding mousy even to your own ears. “I didn't mean for that to sound so rude.”

“You didn’t, hmm?” He hums, breath slipping down your neck and he wrapped his right hand low around your waist.

“No,” you swallowed hard. Your skin on fire under his palm.

“So, you’re saying you would like a hand...” He whispered, smoothing cool fingers down along the space between your hip and thigh.

Limbs shaking, desire and curiosity and confusion swirling in your veins. You tried to find your voice, leaned against his chest’s blister strum. Shuddered as another warm breath huffed over your skin.

“Y-yes.”

He spun you and you found your back suddenly against the cold, wooden door. His face hovered, lips barely an inch above your own.

“As much as I think you think you want this.” He traced your collarbone, eyes burrowing into yours. “As much as I enjoy hearing your heart race.” His finger dipped inside your neckline, under the edge of your bra, skimming pebbled flesh. You shuddered, worried some neighbor might be looking, but unable to tear your gaze away from his.

“Today’s your lucky day, Red. I am gonna leave ya jus’ the way I found ya.” He pressed himself against you, thigh wedged between yours. “‘Cause, if I stay here on this porch one more minute, with you an’ your wide eyes, smelling like sins you don’t begin to understand…” Stubble grazed your cheek. He hummed, words hot and heavy in your ear. “I think I’d ruin you.”

You wanted to grab his hand and hold it there. To ask him in and show what he did to you, to prove to him...to yourself...that this could be good. Special. Right.

“You wouldn’t ruin me. I - I trust you, ” you squeaked, instead. Tentatively closed that fractional space, brushed your lips against his.

He didn’t let it become a kiss. “You misunderstand me.” He moved back a bit, pulled his arm free and ran knuckles down between you, tracing your chest and then grabbing tightly around your waist. Pushed you, a quick snap, deeper into the door.

“I want to.”

Then, he’d bound off the porch and down the steps before the night air had even cooled your skin. Calling out behind him as he cut across the grass, “You aren’t ready, little girl.”

His words play back every night as you fall into fitful sleep.

Now, he looks at you knowingly. Like he knows where your mind was, that shared flickering old film reel memory.

You hold up the vials and manage a small laugh. It’s short. Belies your nerves.

“Oh, I - I have some things to deliver to Shuri. To Shuri’s lab.”

“Shuri’s lab.” He says, mouth moving as if rolling around an invisible hay straw. He still leans, unblinking, trained on you.

A moment of silence as he considers you. Electricity buzzes across your skin. Words rush out of you to fill the void. “Shuri’s lab. In Wakanda. Shuri’s lab.”

His eyes crinkle, pleased as you stumble over your words. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

Of course he is. You’re supposed to be smarter than this.

Across the hanger, Clint performs his pre-flight checklist.

“Change of plans,” he calls out, back still turned to you. “Laura’s got me roped into filming a play tonight.”

“Okay,” you say, unable to fault her for wanting to keep Clint as retired as possible. “I need to put these samples back on ice then.” You start to head back when a shadow emerges from inside the jet.

Clint says, dryly, “You’re going. Looks like I'm still the only one around here who doesn’t have a Wakanda stamp on my passport.”

Barnes peers down from the quinjet ramp, takes the checklist, and winks. Your stomach drops.

Clint claps him on the shoulder. “Say ‘hi’ to those damn goats for me.”

Once inside the jet, Barnes gestures toward the insulated box you carry. “That it there? What did Barton call it? Funky Cold Medina?”

Of course. Yes, naturally. That’s exactly what it would be. Aphrodisiac Pheromones. Sex Pollen.

The mystery of why evil organizations frequently leave a cache of screw-or-die juice sitting around abandoned complexes for wandering bands of Do-Gooders to uncover is as baffling as why they consider rampant libido to be a great offensive strategy in the first place.

Nodding curtly, acting unruffled by the news, you brush past him and secure it in the cooler.

The plane is at cruising altitude before either of you speak again.

“How long has it been since you’ve been to Wakanda?” You venture, throat tight.

He runs his tongue along his teeth, never looking away from the sky, then answers, “Haven’t been back since Strange showed up.” He pauses, then continues, “Used to have a nice place there. Best view. Sunsets over still water.” Leans slightly out of his seat in your direction. “I think I wanna take you there.”

A smile comes over you, wide and almost hurting your cheeks. This glimpse of how he’d been, hope tingles along your arms.

“I’d love that.” And you would. Have him let you in, return to where he’d been and who he was.

“Sure thing,” he says, voice lilting out on a devil smirk. “I could take you there. It’s...secluded. Make you scream.”

“Why do you do that?” The tingles take on a different tenor.

“Do what?” He sounds believably innocent in the way a prostitute dresses up like a nun.

You fidget, nails scratching a foreign itch on your palms, and chastise yourself, reminded again why it’s better when you don’t get your hopes up. Don’t act on your urge to spend time with him. Your once almost more-than-friend...your wishful thinking...seems gone for good. Now, when he comes around, it feels like finding yourself suddenly teetering on a high ledge when you’d expected grass between your toes.

“Why must you be so...so, crude?”

“It is. I am. That’s the point though, isn’t it? You like it,” he says matter-of-factly, looking you up and down, “Hell, you crave it. And that’s what’s got you confused, all tied up in knots.” He turns in his chair, arms bent and leaning on his knees, casual, is if he was discussing new coffee in the common room or a cell phone plan. “Because you’re stuck thinking the goal is a fella wife-ing you up,” he snorts.

“Hell, Red, you’re still stuck thinking you want a guy grunting on top of you Tuesdays from 9 to 9:10 with a meatloaf pan soaking in the sink.” He shakes his head. ”You have hangs-ups and I’m not gonna play along with them like that boring ass agent you wasted time on.”

“Stop,” you whisper. “Please, stop trying to scare me.”

He blows out a lungful of air. “It doesn’t scare you. That I could just take it. That I could have you - have you in all the ways that you won’t let yourself think you want. The thoughts you kill before you can admit them in the back of that beautiful mind of yours. I could have you every one of those ways. But, that’s not how I want it. Not how I want you. What scares you,” he says, leaning in. “What scares you is, that I won’t. I won’t let you keep fooling yourself about what you really want.

“You know, deep down you know, that’s not how it’s gonna happen. You gotta admit what you need.”

He inches a little closer. “You’re gonna have to beg.”

Your heart stops, eyes unblinking. “You’re wrong.”

“No,’ he says, returning to the controls and beginning your descent. “No, you’re wrong - and I’m a different kind of wrong. I’m so wrong that I’m the only thing right.”

Your head pounds. Stomach lurches as the plane breaks beneath the clouds. “You used to be my friend,” you half-mumble, staring down at your knees. “Sweetheart,” he punches the word out, saccharine-sweet, “I was never meant to be your friend.”

Silence stretches out for several more minutes. Only the engine’s hum, lull and dense, barely bats at the thoughts raging in your mind. Barnes’ words, his presence, suffocates you. Even strapped securely in his pilot seat, it feels like he’s crushing your lungs.

The plane lands in an outlying region.

“I should be back by four,” you spit, container swinging wildly from your fist. The walk is probably twenty minutes from here and you relish the idea of having the quiet to process things.

“Orders are I make sure you’re safe.” He falls in step.

You spin and push a single finger into his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Your services are not needed, Barnes.”

“Don’t be like that,” he snaps, serious. “Just because you’re pissed at me for saying shit you don’t wanna hear, don’t put yourself in danger.”

“Danger? I think I’m infinitely safer out here. It’s Wakanda, the most advanced place on the planet!” You sweep your arms wide toward the city in the distance, towers like exclamation points jutting out of fields. “I’ll be fine. Besides, the plane could have flown directly to the palace but you’re the one who elected to land way out here.”

He pushes his hair out of his face, holding it up and off his neck. You notice the curve, the warm, inviting color of his skin. He looks out toward the trees, calm as anything, like your outburst never happened. “Guess I can check out the old stomping ground.”

Fighting the urge to flip him off, you march down the ramp, leaving him standing there. “By all means. Go have congress with a goat for all I care.”

Mid afternoon, as soon as you break the tree line on your return, he emerges from the woods. Appears freshly bathed in the river, mane wet and loose, shirt clinging to his frame.

“After you,” he smiles, wolfish, and bows exaggeratedly, inviting you to go first up the ramp.

Your eyes narrow, but you climb inside anyway.

Suddenly, coming around from behind you, his hand reaches for the biohazard bag containing the single tube Shuri had sent back.

“What are you doing?” You snatch the bag away, crushing it to your body.

He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Begging your pardon. Just trying to be a gentleman and carry your bag.”

“Knock it off, Barnes. If you’ve got a predilection for hearing every woman throw themselves at your feet, you can satiate it someplace else.”

“Oh, I can. Just don’t wanna.” His eyes narrow on the bag and he wrenches it out of your grasp, tosses it unceremoniously into the cooler and slams the door

You watch the cooler as if the door might burst open and the horny wrath of Hell take flight about the cabin. When it remains undisturbed until Barnes completes the pre flight rituals, you finally allow yourself to breathe a little deeper and turn away from it.

“And you wound me,” he croons, spinning his seat into position. “It’s not every woman.”

You roll your eyes, strap in, and swear you’re never giving him the satisfaction of hearing you speak again.

That resolve, among other things, breaks over the Atlantic.

The air fills, flowery. Like a florist’s shoppe - oh. Oh, god no - so many scents it feels fake. Cloying and sweet.

“Wha-What is- we need to land!”

He holds his hand up toward the windshield, water as far as the eye can see. “No problem. Just shout ‘ahoy’ when you spot some dirt.”

You fling aside the belt and run toward the cooler. Viscous sludge flows slick as mercury on the floor around it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Barnes yells from the cockpit.

You start rummaging through cabinets, looking for something, anything. “Maybe I can dilute it, cut the effects.” You open the cooler and pull the bag out. It’s ruptured, the vial broken and plastic cut, or eaten away by the chemical, it’s hard to tell at this point.

“By touching it?!” He punches in codes hard enough the key clanks echo. “Stop, just - just wait. Wait two seconds until I can find out what’s what.”

You fling the near empty bag at the back of the plane. “You! You did this on purpose!” The plastic thumps, hollow against the metal door. A roaring, mute thing.

Barnes shakes his head once, hisses between clenched teeth, “You’re the one who smashed it against their chest.”

Then, he cleanly switches tone - deep and clear - speaking into his earpiece. “Banner. Yeah, we have a situation here.

“The package Shuri sent back has been compromised. We’re mid flight, no safe place to put her down. Need to mitigate effects. Please advise.” He pauses, presumably listening to Bruce, then purses his lips. “Nothing? Banner, are you sure?” Turns again, gives you a gauging look.

This can’t be happening. Can’t. You start to shake, knees going out from under you.

He keeps his eyes on you, touches the earpiece. “Nothing. Understood. Barnes out.” Then rips it off and throws it hard enough to shatter.

A thousand thoughts swirl at once. Is it really going to work? How long do you have? What if you go at it like rabbits who just got out of prison and then have to face him day-after-day? What if it works on you both but he resists?

Preemptive humiliation, clawing feral behind your ribs, the terror of possibly being rejected if you, if you...finally admit...

Then, Barnes is there, crouched down beside you, offers you his hand. You wave it away.

“Doll,” he says, soft, like one might coax a fawn to take berries. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sniffling, you shake your head.

“C’mon,” he says softer yet and backing up, giving you space. “Get out of that. Come, sit.”

You look down and realize the liquid is seeping toward you. Some on your leg. Scrambling past him you make it to the other side of the cabin and slump back down to the floor. He moves away from the spill, but keeps his distance, placing himself on the other side of the aisle.

“Why?” Betrayal pours out of you.

He sits down on the floor opposite you. Legs bent and knees up, hands clasped and hanging between. “You gotta believe me, the very last thing I want is something happening between us that’s not real.”

You stare at him. He seems so genuine in this moment. But, you force focus, because this is how he always is, right before he pulls the rug out from under you.

When you don’t reply, he breaks the silence again. “Besides, maybe it doesn’t even work. Hasn’t kicked in already. That’s a good sign. I’ve been around that type of shit before,” he pauses, looking off to the right, unfocused on something that isn’t really there, remembering some horror you don’t want to contemplate. “It’s not always so bad.” He shrugs, picks a string off his pants. “Even if it is, if it is...bad, I know I can hold off.”

You can’t look at him. Not when his voice is soft and his words are kind and he reminds you so much of the man you fell...the man you...

dammit.

He gets up slowly. Checks the autopilot. Eases back down where he was. Boots scuffing out in front of him along the metal floor.

“Did you mean what you said?” You venture. He just raises his eyebrows. “When you said you wanted something real with me-with us?” You elaborate, barely audible.

He clears his throat, rearranges himself on the floor. Stares off at nothing. “Why else would I hold off all this time? At first, sure, I thought you were interesting enough. Probably good for letting off steam.” He looks to you for a moment, then away again. “Then, you just sorta snuck in. Took over. You and your little button up sweaters.” Gives a little chuckle. “Fucking seduced me with your cardigans and ‘Nova’ recaps.”

Mulling it over, you start to ask, “Then, why do you-”

“You know why.”

He blows out a lungful of air. “Because I’m not settling for half-ass. Never had much. But they always find a way to take even more.”

So torn up in your own stupid fears - selfish, petty girl - you never thought about his lot in this. A sob punches out of you. Made and unmade. So many times. Here’s another time, one more damned time, he faces control of himself being torn away.

You don’t know how long you sit there, crying into your hand. Eventually, he swipes a tear from your face.

He scoots back away. But his touch...lingers. He watches you trace where he’d been, little lightning strikes that turn and shift, then burn. Burns past your skin, thrums in your veins.

“It’s happening.”

“Nah, Doll. We’re halfway home, we’re not gonna do anything we don’t want to do.”

His voice, coffee rich and smoke, settles in your belly. Your hips clench, rock. You think, this must be the cusp, there’s more to come, but you want to tell him, show him...feel him before you’re so far gone it’s a blur.

Hazy want swirls around him, poppies and violets and jet fuel in the air. Your hand sneaks up under your shirt, the rough outline of it juts out over your breast. He’s sitting up now. Licks his lips.

“I can’t - noooo,” you say, breathless. It’s scorching now. Boiling, latent want bubbling up. You pull your shirt off, burning.

“I can’t wait,” you plead. He looks so good, always looks so damned good. “I don’t want to wait.”

His back goes straight. Muscles tense. Ready to pounce.

“Not like this.” His breath has picked up. “Not if you think you can tell yourself later that it was chemicals talking.”

“You want real, Barnes? I’ll give you real,” you purr. Stretch out lythe before him. It’s not so bad, but you know it will be. “I do want this. I want you. Always have.”

He smiles, crooked, but doesn’t move. “That’s nice. Real nice to hear.” Watches your hand go under your clothes, between your legs. “That’s not enough. I could’ve had you back then. Back on your porch. Had you a couple times. Taken the edge off. Maybe gotten it outta our systems. But,” he stops for a moment, seeming to reconsider when you moan as you slip between your folds. He palms the hard length of him. “that’s not enough. I want all of you.”

Electric yearning rolls your shoulders, pressure between your legs frustrating. “Please.”

“‘Please’ what?” He shifts again, watching you, sweat forming on his brow. Fists clenched at his sides.

“I don’t want to date you, Red. Don’t wanna be your boyfriend or any fucking trivial thing like marriage.” Stares you down, blue boring into your soul. “I want more than that meaningless shit.”

Your mind is nothing but the want of him - broad shoulders, his gravel-tired voice, the thick of him.

Skin on fire with tremors. “Anything you want, Bucky. Everything. Please. I just, just-” you moan, a twisted mess on the floor before him. Voice a shuddered breath. “You’re right. I want you everywhere. Mark me up. Show me - show me you own me.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Then, he’s there. Hands holding your jaw, angling you open, tongue a deep slide. He breaks free, swallows your breaths, presses his head to yours.

He’s out of his clothes while you fumble with what’s left of your own. They start to rip. “Shush. Let me.” Deftly, he undoes them, sets you free. “You need to wear these later. No one gets to see but me.” His eyes sparkle mischief until the thin sky edge gives way to black.

Cool fingers slide inside you. One, then two. Curl and pump, wet and obscene. Moments and, you’re there. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna come.”

He doesn't let up. “Yeah you are. Give it to me.” Your head falls forward, clinging, hanging on through a silent scream, wet rushes past his wrist.

“My turn,” he snarls. Towers over your, pushes a finger past your lips, hooks it around you cheek, and pulls you to his cock. Pressure and he angles your face up, finger replaced by thumbs at each side pulling your mouth wide - drool pooling - and pushes the tip onto your tongue.

You give a tentative lick. Try to work the girth of him while he holds you open. “Look at me,” he says, hair a veil framing his face. “You can do better than that. Don’t hold back.”

You keep your eyes on him, nudge his hands away, work him halfway down, salty musk on the back of your tongue.

“This ain’t about you being passive, Sugar. Come on. Show me what I do to you. Fucking treat me right,” he growls, grabs your head and shoves as you gag. “I didn’t spend months coming in my own hand, thinking about you, biding my time - waiting to do this right - for you to barely-”

Fast, determined, almost angry, you swallow him down as far as possible, eyes wet and blurred. Find the spot behind him, between his legs, warm, heavy, and rub in tight ovals. “Fuuuck - yesssss.” He twists your hair in his hands - holding you in your place.

“That’s it. Oh god, Sugar, you didn’t just come up with that. What else you got hiding, waiting to show me? So fuckin -“ he shudders as you massage him more, pinky brushing farther back.

He laughs, surprised. “Dirty girl.” He pulls out, then wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing himself there as he pushes back in. “You got the sweetest goddamn throat.” Thrusts while you run your circuits until he empties himself, head thrown back and thighs straining.

He moves faster than should be humanly possible, unfurls his jacket over the floor grid, and pulls you over it. Wads his shirt under your knees.

“Floor’s hard,” he says, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I only want you feelin’ me.”

“Spread.” He smacks your ass with a sting.

You obey, arch your back, offer yourself. He dives in with his mouth, tongue in deep. When he starts to thumb your clit, constellations bursting behind your eyes, you stop him. “In me. I want to come with you inside me. Only with you inside me.”

He smiles, face slick with you. Straightens, grabs your hips and pulls you to him as he starts his slide in.

You mewl, palms flat and fingers splayed. Try to relax through the stretch and drag, strain to take the rest of him.

He runs his hand over your spine. “Just a little more, baby,” he coos. “Fuck. Look at you. Takin’ me so good.

“You’re mine. The moment I heard your heart race, you were mine. When I made you wait, you were still mine. When I told you to beg for it and you did, you were mine. When I told you to spread your legs and you did it, you were mine.” He makes a final push, fully seated, sharp spark at your end. Holds you there, pulsing. Then, pulls out long, begins again.

It’s everything you ever wanted. He was so right. So, so right and you can’t believe you waited for so long and you really need to thank Shuri for not inventing vibranium test tubes.

“When that bastard wearing my face looked at you, looked at you like he had the right, that’s when-” He moans long and low, makes a particularly full stroke, air sucking through his teeth.

“That’s when I knew. No other man could have you. Even if that man was me.”

His hands dig into your hips. Anchoring you. He holds you open, watching. Cold thumb follows the line down the center of you. Stops above where you meet. Pad runs over where you’re tight and untested.

“Pleeeease,” you keen. You need him. Need him everywhere.

His hips falter, finesse sacrificed to curious need.

“Has anyone been in here before?”

“No,” you mewl, debauched, wanton.

His pace picks up. Harder, slamming, sting against cervix. “I need in there. Fuck. Sugar, let me in.”

Beyond words, you tilt your hips and push back, forcing him in knuckle deep.

“Only me,” he roars. “Promise me. Swear.” He angles over you, spreads you out, chest crushing to the floor. His free hand finds your neck. Pins your down. Breath harsh beside your ear.

“You. Only you.” You come, crying and clenching around him in all the places he is within.

He pulls out. Kisses your face as he lifts you, turns you to him.

He settles between your waiting thighs - surrounds, nuzzles in, taking in your scent - until there’s nothing you can see, or feel, think, that isn’t him.

Then he stills. Then watches. Then breathes.

Brushes his warm hand along the curve of your face. Presses a kiss, pillow soft. Weight pinning you down. He pushes fully back in, his head breaking skyward as you take him.

Hips rolling full - the drag and curve brings him to your chest. His tongue slips along you breast, seeks and teases. Licks and pulls you in.

His hands wrap around your thighs, anchors you, opens you up. Kisses deep and pushes in, until you’ve run out of you and he’s run out of him.

“Fuuuck, you feel so good. I knew you would. Thought about you every fu- every fucking day.”

He stops for a moment, beaming down at you. You realize you were the one talking.

“That’s my girl.”

Then, he’s moves, ruts, whispers faint praise into your skin. Low. Can’t quite hear.

And you want to hear.

You want to taste his secrets and feel his sounds and listen to his mouth on you.

You push up into him, hard, matching him. You explode again, suddenly.

“Fuuuuck. He swells. Rhythm falters. Marks your walls.

After, you tuck into his side, both of you curled up on the floor. His face is finally relaxed, serene. You press your lips above his heart.

“Bucky, I want you to know, I wanted this, I will always want this. I am yours. It wasn’t just the chemicals.”

He kisses the sweat and tears from your face. Tucks your hair behind your ear. “I know, Red, I know,” he says, eyes sparkling, voice sincere, “Bruce said there was ‘nothing’ to worry about. That wasn’t the pollen - that was just the antidote.”

#dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!fic

1K notes · View notes

writingithink · 4 years ago

Text

The Doctor’s Domestic Nightmare Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: G Wordcount: 2,542 Summary: They visit Jackie to do some Earth-wedding planning. Notes: This is for Day 5 of @timepetalsweek ! I used two of the prompts, the picture prompt and 'family'. A fair amount of the other fics in this series get referenced in this one, but I still don't think you'd be lost if you haven't read them. Extra special thanks to @hey-there-juliet , the best beta ever <3 All mistakes are mine. I own nothing.

READ IT ON AO3 -> copy/paste link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478851

The Doctor landed the TARDIS outside the flat this time. Anything he could do to make this whole thing go easier (and hopefully quicker).

“How long are we staying?” He turned toward Rose, who was still sitting on the jumpseat, doing something on her phone.

“Thought we might stay the night,” she slowly replied, attention obviously otherwise involved. “Mum’s been lonely.”

“What are you doing?”

Normally she was out of the ship in a heartbeat when they landed at the Estates. This time she didn’t look like she’d be moving anytime soon. Their bond wasn’t providing him with anything useful, just a mix of concentration, mild frustration, and sympathy. They had agreed to both put their barriers up decently high shortly after she woke up, when they started to create a stress feedback-loop in each other's heads. He sat down next to her and leaned over her shoulder to see that she was texting Jackie.

“You know, you can talk to her in person right outside these doors,” the Doctor felt the need to point out.

“No, no, however my phone works now, the sonic or the TARDIS or whatever, it, like- it blocked my texts until I woke up this mornin’. But if you look at the little time stamps, it’s sendin’ my replies as if I didn’t wait a month to answer. I’m texting my mum three days ago,” Rose explained.

“Oh. Huh. Must be the TARDIS. Have you been doing this all morning?”

“Yeah. The first text came through as being from about, I dunno … an hour after we left last time?”

“Well, knowing your mother, she’ll be outside the door any minute. Doubt you’ll have time to finish the week,” he admitted with a frown. The Doctor hoped that all of the guilt he was feeling at keeping the two of them apart was safely behind the walls he’d erected in his mind. Of course, traveling, being away from her mother, that was Rose’s decision (and one that he was immensely, immensely glad for).

But still.

He and Rose had talked, back when they were at the Olympics, after the Isolus. About things, family things, Gallifrey things that he didn’t want to talk about. Thankfully, with the bond, he was able to show her more than tell her, because the words wouldn’t come half the time - a real shock, with his gob. And he’d admitted to her how much he wished things had been different with his children. That he’d been more like them, or they’d been more like him - but they had taken after their mother, who was a very respectable Time Lady, and fit right in. Whereas he never had. Things had brightened up a little when he told her about Susan, but overall the whole thing had made them both very sad, very ill timed conversation to have on a honeymoon.

And now he felt guilty, much more so than usual, at the thought of Jackie being lonely while they gallivanted about time and space.

“I need to change,” Rose announced, jostling him as she stood and bringing him back to the present.

“What?”

“She’s made some appointments at some very nice places and I have to change. Ahh, I don’t even know what to wear!” she exclaimed, quickly exiting the console room but pausing at the entrance to the main corridor. “If mum shows up, can you stall her?”

“ What?!”

But his wife was gone, apparently off to change out of her jeans and hoodie. The Doctor sighed, circling the console, mentally calculating what repairs he might be able to make some progress on in the time that he would be waiting on her. It really was a shame that humans tended not to pick an outfit and stick to it - things would be so much simpler. Not that he didn’t enjoy all the fun, different things Rose wore. And she did seem to really enjoy dressing up for all of the different places they went to.

Just as he was considering perhaps changing his tie, knocking started up on the TARDIS door.

Oh, bloody hell.

He flinched, expecting a mental zap, but it never came. Right, they were blocking most things out. Ehh …

The benefits of mental privacy - today, at least. Well, it was obviously necessary but he really didn’t like it. What did it say about him that he preferred to be telepathically reprimanded than to not be telepathically noticed at all?

Probably nothing good.

The Doctor shook his head as the knocking continued, and then jogged down the ramp, grabbing his coat as he went. He opened the door just wide enough to slip out, slamming it closed with his back as soon as he’d cleared it.

“Hello, Jackie!” he greeted his mother-in-law with a wide grin.

“Doctor,” she responded, crossing her arms. Ohh, and he’d been hoping she would have warmed back up after last time. Then again, what had been a month and a half for them had only been a week for her. “Where’s Rose?”

“She’s still getting ready. I never can tell how long it’s going to take her, so I may have landed us a bit, er, prematurely.”

“You’re not lyin’, are ya? She’s not in there sick, or injured, or- or-“

“No no no no no,” he quickly interrupted, waving his hands about, “I would never lie to you about something like that! Rose is fine. She’s just- just- picking an outfit or doing her hair or something.”

“Alright then,” Jackie said, finally seeming to relax … a bit. “Maybe I can give her a hand.”

The Doctor knocked her arm away as she reached for the door, and that was quite rude, wasn’t it? Definitely not doing anything to get back into her good graces, but if Rose was still texting and Jackie had her mobile on her, he wasn’t sure it would still work if her mum entered the TARDIS.

“If you go in, it’ll take even longer!” he insisted, not knowing if that was necessarily true but assuming it was. Jackie had never been in the wardrobe room, so he could only imagine. “Why don’t we head inside? Otherwise we might be standing outside the TARDIS for ages.”

“ You want to sit around the flat with me, no Rose?” She seemed skeptical, and he really couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah! Of course!” The Doctor pasted on what he hoped was a winning smile.

The things he did for his wife.

“Riiiight. Okay, then. Fine. She better be quick about it, though, otherwise we’ll be late. You shoulda waited for her to land that box of yours,” she scolded him as they headed up to the flat. He took the time to really look at her, and realized that Jackie actually looked quite nice today, for once not wearing one of her velour tracksuits.

It was too bad he couldn’t tell her that of course he’d waited for Rose before landing.

“Won’t happen again,” he said instead, hoping that was true.

They entered the flat and the Doctor was sincerely at a loss as to how to proceed. He projected everything that had happened to Rose, just getting an ‘okay’ in response. Her mental presence was frenzied, and he wished he knew how to be more helpful. The fact was, he had wandered into something very human that he had never thought that he’d ever be a part of.

“So, how’s it been?” Jackie called out from the kitchen.

“Hmm?” He wandered into the room to see her moving about, fixing tea.

“I said, how’s it been, the two of you. With your first week or however long it’s been for ya, dating.”

“ Dating?!” the Doctor repeated, and now she was facing him, looking at him like he was an idiot for some reason, but excuse her, what?!

“My daughter?”

“No, I know your daughter, but we’re not dating! We’re married!”

“Right, sure, so you’ve been sayin’, but the fact is you two weren’t even properly together before your alien voodoo ended up accidentally getting you hitched. You can’t go from nothin’ to married like that, relationship-wise, no matter what ya got goin’ on with your shared brain whatever you call it.”

What?

“Bond,” he found himself mumbling, “it’s called a bond.”

“Though if you ask me, you two did go on about like you were together, even if Rose was constantly denying it. I’m not blind, y’know. And it wasn’t just me, either. Ask anyone around here, watchin’ you too making doe eyes at each other.”

“ Doe eyes?! I don’t make doe eyes,” the Doctor denied, though he still was trying to process the whole beginning of her speech. “Wait, did you say alien voodoo?!”

His words fell on deaf ears.

“And don’t get me started on the constant touching. The both of you had to realize that normal friends, platonic friends, don’t carry on like that, clingin’ to each other.”

“Clinging?” He didn’t even have it in him to scoff anymore. This was exhausting. Jackie pushed past him, handing him a cup of tea as she went. “Erm, thank you.”

“Use a coaster,” she told him, pointing at the couch.

Forget the beast in the pit, this was hell.

“Right, yes, of course,” he nodded, quickly sitting down and placing his mug on a coaster as ordered. Ugh.

Still, it was better than the interrogation she’d given him the last time they’d been here. And at least this time Jackie didn’t seem to expect him to say anything at all. Though she had asked him a question. And people called him rude!

His mother-in-law took a seat in the chair with her own mug, giving him the same skeptical look that she had after catching him modifying her toaster. Thankfully, before she could start up again the door opened and Rose walked in.

And she was breathless, panting, having obviously ran all the way from the TARDIS.

And from what little he could get from her over the bond he could tell that she was incredibly stressed and anxious.

But she looked gorgeous.

Her hair was done in soft curls, and she had on a TARDIS blue dress and the same little pink heels she’d worn when they’d failed to see Elvis. He really needed to get back around to that. Might not have time until their second honeymoon, though. Too many different plans. The Doctor couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Mum!” she exclaimed, immediately wrapping Jackie in a hug.

“Finally! Thought we’d miss our first appointment! I told him, wait ’til you’re done before gettin’ you here, especially if he’s going to cut it so close. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t pass his test, you know, the way he lands willy nilly, and a year late, don’t think I’ll forget that! Who in their right mind woulda given him a time machine if they knew he’d be carryin’ on like that,” Jackie nattered on.

Not a word, he bit out to Rose across the bond and was actually quite pleased with the resulting mental laughter (despite the fact that it had really been a dire warning).

“Sorry for takin’ so long. I think we should still be fine. We’re getting a cab, right?” Rose asked, and they both began heading right back out of the flat.

The Doctor picked up his tea, blew on it, and put his legs up on the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?” Jackie asked him, holding the door open. “Shake a leg!”

“What?”

“You’re coming with us!”

He looked at Rose, who mouthed ‘sorry’, pointed at her phone and shrugged before remembering that they could speak telepathically.

Mum never said she expected you to come with us until the texts from yesterday, she explained, and I was in such a rush to get here by the time I got those ones that it slipped my mind to tell ya.

“Oh … right,” he tried to cover, “I just … thought we were having tea. And you know how great I think your tea is, Jackie. Saved the world, your tea did. Well, helped my regeneration sickness, which amounts to the same thing in that situation. Free radicals and tannins, have I properly explained the benefits to you? You see-”

“Wait a minute!” Jackie interrupted him, staring at Rose’s hands for some reason. “Where’s your ring?!”

Ring? Ring. Oh bloody, fucking hell.

“Oh, we haven’t-”

Her mother didn’t even give Rose a chance to speak. “We’re to go to all of these places, wedding planning, and he didn’t even have the decency to get you an engagement ring?!”

Exchanging rings. He knew that one! It was a human marriage custom so pervasive that it remained a part of their wedding ceremonies throughout time and space. And he’d forgotten.

“We just haven’t had a chance to go looking yet, that’s all,” Rose lied. “If anyone asks, we’ll just say it’s off gettin’ sized.”

Jackie huffed before stomping out of the flat, his wife trailing behind. The Doctor sat for another moment, positively baffled at how this day was going, then bounded out of the flat after them. When he caught up to Rose, he took her hand and pulled her to a stop.

“I’m so sorry,” he told her, and really, he didn’t even know where to start.

“Doctor, it’s fine, I don’t care about rings and stuff.”

“Not just that, though. But still, that too! I’m sorry for- for not doing this properly, not dating you, jumping straight into everything. I waited too long to tell you how I felt, and now I’m completely rubbish at doing all of these human courtship and marriage things, and you deserve-”

“Doctor,” Rose interrupted him, putting a hand over his mouth. “Y’need to stop listening to my mum. We’re fine. We were fine before you left the TARDIS, and we’re still fine. Better than fine, even. We’re fantastic. And let’s get this straight now, I’m the one who gets to decide what I deserve.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, words muffled by the hand she still hadn’t moved.

You, she declared over their bond, barriers dropped so that a tidal wave of love and affection poured into him.

And then he effortlessly nudged her hand out of the way, pulled her even closer, and kissed her.

The Universe was not kind. It owed him nothing. If anything, he owed it. Because it gave him her.

The hand not clutching her lower back tangled into her hair as he deepened the kiss, his own barriers crumbling as he tried to express everything he was feeling in that moment. Her arms wrapped around his neck and it was perfect. Everything was perfect, and the Doctor had no idea why he’d ever thought otherwise.

“OI!!”

They sprang apart as if a bucket of water had been poured over them.

“None of that!” Jackie yelled from across the way. “Get a move on! I swear, this is gonna be worse than all of the lovesick mooning.”

He was mortified.

Rose’s barriers had already locked back into place, her face red.

Tell your mum I’m off to get your ring, he projected before running back to the TARDIS as fast as he possibly could.

#timepetalsweek #ficandchips #ten x rose #dw fic #dw fanfiction #timepetals #tenrose #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #fic: the doctor's domestic nightmare #my fic #I THOUGHT I WOULD BE LATE BUT I'M NOT #and also no i do not know why i am #doing this event like nanowrimo on steroids #this is my life and these are my choices

25 notes · View notes

moonlit-jeno · 5 years ago

Text

Love Sick

Chapter 2- Donghyuck

pairing: nct dream ‘00 line + reader

genre/warnings: zombie!au, fluff, eventual smut, angst. some graphic violence/ gore

words: 2.3k

summary:

“You’re telling me that I slept through the beginning of the zombie apocalypse.” You deadpan, expecting at least one of them to break character and laugh. All four boys remain grim.

masterlist | prev | next

They drive for hours, Jeno eventually switching with Jaemin so that he can get some sleep. They’ve only dared to stop once so far to grab a can of gasoline, the empty gas station far too foreboding for them to feel comfortable at. And then they’re driving again, through the dark streets, headed god knows where. There’s no cell reception and GPS isn’t working, so they’re driving blind. The map Jaemin grabbed is ancient and has been folded so many times that the creases blend in with the roads.

It’s early morning when Jaemin takes a right turn that leads them down a dirt road, with the trees growing thicker and blocking out some of the sunlight. Donghyuck shudders at the fear he gets from this place.

“Are you sure we should go this way?” Renjun asks, turning behind them to see how far from the main road they are.

There’s a nod from Jaemin. “Yeah, it looks alright. No harm in exploring.” Donghyuck snorts. Sure, they’re in a fast car with locked doors, but their eyes aren’t protected from the horrific sights around them. He’s still scarred from watching the guy bash his own head in an attempt to get to them, and he doesn’t want to add any more memories to that part of his brain.

The trees get a little thinner in one area, and Donghyuck has to squint to realize that there’s a house there. “Jaem, look.”

The car slows, Jaemin and Renjun leaning closer to get a better look. Jeno is snoring in the passenger seat, having driven for the majority of the trip.

“It’s fucking massive.” Renjun points out, and he isn’t wrong. The house is at least double the size of Hyuck’s own home. “Guess land out here’s cheaper.” It’s quiet as they decide what to do, the car humming idly. Donghyuck knows what they’re all thinking, what they’re all scared to say. They can’t stay in this car forever, and this house seems perfect. Isolated, huge, probably has running water and electricity. Of course, it only seems perfect from the outside. They have no way of knowing what’s on the inside. The place could be crawling with zombies- he cringes just thinking of the word- or it could have some people who don’t take kindly to strangers. He can only pray that it’s empty and that its owners don’t plan on returning.

“We should go in.” Jaemin murmurs, pulling over to the side of the road. Renjun hums in agreement, and Donghyuck hates himself for agreeing too. It’s the logical decision, but he feels sick to his stomach at the prospect of potentially running into a zombie. At the prospect of dying.

Hyuck reaches one shaking hand forward and nudges Jeno awake. He needs his sleep, sure, but he needs to be a part of this decision. He startles awake with a sharp inhale, looking around for a second before his brain fully wakes up.

“Well, shit.” Jeno coughs to clear his throat, laughing humorlessly. “Guess it wasn’t just a bad dream?”

Renjun doesn’t seem to have the patience for small talk. “We found a house. It’s pretty secluded, and we’re going to have to stop at some point anyways. Here seems as good a place as any.” Jeno blinks before turning his head and looking at the house. He shrugs. “I guess. Who’s going in?” Silence. None of them had thought that far ahead. “Someone should stay in the car.” Renjun points out. He doesn’t add the words “in case something goes wrong”, but they all hear them anyways.

Donghyuck considers it for all of one second before he realizes that a) it would leave him alone and vulnerable, b) he’s a horrendous driver, and c) he won’t be able to handle not knowing what’s happening to his friends in the house.

“Not me.” He says, meeting Jaemin’s quirked eyebrow with a stare of his own. “What? You’ve all seen my driving.” That at least gets him a snort and a ‘fair enough’ from Jeno. Renjun shrugs. “I’ll do it.” Another beat of silence. “Guess that means we’re going in.” Jaemin says, looking from Jeno to Donghyuck. “Guess it does.” He hopes his voice isn’t shaking as badly as he thinks it is.

Jeno mumbles a ‘fuck this’ and hops out of the car, Jaemin quickly following suit. Renjun pulls them all in for a quick hug before hopping into the front seat.

The walk up to the house is both the shortest and longest walk Donghyuck has ever experienced. He needs to know if it’s empty, if there’s something inside, but he also doesn’t. His day’s been bad enough already; he doesn’t need to add ‘being chased by zombies’ to the list of things that have happened to him.

They get to the front door, and it’s surprisingly clean- no peeling paint, the tiny windows at the top of the door clear of fingerprints and dust. Donghyuck looks to the side and finds some potted plants next to a pair of shoes. Jeno and Jaemin have noticed it too.

“We should knock?” Jaemin tries to suggest. It comes out as more of a question, and he clears his throat. “I mean, it looks like there might be someone here. They might be more willing to help us if we’re polite?” Jeno shrugs. Donghyuck glances back to the truck, engine humming softly. Renjun’s looking out the window nervously. “Right. On the count of three?” “One.” Donghyuck puts his fist up first. Jaemin and Jeno follow hesitantly.

“Two.” There so much that could go wrong. Donghyuck’s never been good at running, especially not under pressure. He wonders if an angry zombie is enough to turn him into an Olympic sprinter.

Jeno’s in a fighting stance, probably subconsciously. A habit from all his years of picking fights on the streets, before he started boxing and found a healthy way to channel his anger. He wonders if Jeno would be able to throw a punch, or if all his muscles would lock up. Donghyuck knows what would happen if he tried it himself.

“Three.” They knock together, three hands on one piece of wood. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears, stomach twisting so violently that he has to lean against Jaemin for support. He expects the door to fly open, expects 10 raging monsters to come pouring out, expects to stare straight into the barrel of an angry farmers gun. He holds his breath.

Nothing happens. Jaemin, who’s eyes had been squeezed shut, blinks at the door in confusion, leaning forward to knock again. There’s no response. He tries the doorknob, but it doesn’t budge.

“Strange. Should we break in?” Jeno asks, jumping up on his tiptoes to try and peer in through the windows at the top. It’s useless, they’re too high.

Jaemin nods and Hyuck steps back, prepared to have to ram his full body weight into the door. But the youngest just kneels down, pulling something out of his pocket before setting to work.

“Are you- where did you learn to pick a lock?” Donghyuck squints, watching the door open. Jaemin stands back up and winks, pocketing his paper clip. “That doesn’t answer my question!” They’re all slightly more at ease after no mysterious noises have come from inside. But the fear is still there, curling and stabbing at his gut. “We should check all the rooms first, make sure there’s nothing hiding.” Jeno’s suggestion is logical, of course, but that doesn’t mean Donghyuck likes it. Especially since they’d decided to split up for this part, so he can’t hide behind Jaemin or cling onto Jeno’s hand. He voices his complaints under his breath as he creaks open a door, peering into it and seeing in relief as nothing jumps out. Three more doors are opened, all devoid of zombies.

They regroup in the kitchen, Donghyuck being the last to join. Renjun’s there, groceries lining the table and floor. “Jesus, how long did I take.” Jaemin shrugs. “Pretty long. But there was no screaming, so we figured you were alright. Find anything?”

“Nah. All the rooms upstairs are empty, I even check the closets. You guys?” Two heads are shaken at him. “One of the doors was locked so I couldn’t check it, but I figure it’s fine. Didn’t want to bust it down and find out that I was wrong.” Jeno tries for humor but misses the mark. For once, Donghyuck doesn’t make fun of him.

“I was betting that you passed out in fear.” Renjun pipes up, and Donghyuck sends him a glare that he hopes is scathing. He gets a smile in return.

There’s a glass of water on the table and Donghyuck’s sandpaper mouth decides hey, that looks delicious. “Where’d you guys find the water?” Silence. The other three turn to look at the glass, the plate next to it. Jaemin swallows thickly. “It was there when we got here. Probably the owners.” Hyuck frowns, walking over to the plate. There’s breadcrumbs still on it and he pokes them. “Seems pretty fresh.” “It’s probably from yesterday. Left, figured they’d clean it when they came back.” Donghyuck feels bile rise in his throat when he realizes that they probably won’t be coming back, because they won’t be able to. It makes him think of other people that might not be coming back- namely his parents- and he shuts down that train of thought before he starts crying.

There’s another beat of silence before Renjun’s standing, walking over to the fridge. “We should take stock of what food they have. I don’t know how long we’re gonna be here, but we should eat the fresh food first. If there even is any.”

Donghyuck’s brain momentarily short circuits- it’s only been one day since the entire world seemingly turned upside down. It feels like it’s been a year.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Renjun shoving a plastic bag into his hands. It has four containers in it, and the receipt stapled to the bag reads that it’s from yesterday. His stomach growls.

“Shit, when’s the last time we ate?” His appetite, previously repressed by hunger, makes itself known with a by twisting itself in pain, growling again.

“Too long ago.” Jaemin says, pulling out half a container of soup. “Lunch time?”

The four boys watch impatiently as the food rotates in the microwave, the loud buzzing taunting them. The seconds count down impossibly slow, until finally it beeps. Jeno’s out of his chair in an instant, straight up moaning when the door opens and the scent of Chinese takeout fills the air. “It smells so good.”

“It’s also mine.” That voice doesn’t belong to any of them. All four boys freeze, whipping around to face the source.

A girl stands in the doorway, leaning against the wall. She looks to be around their age. “The cops are on their way. Figured I’d at least give you a chance to avoid jail.” Renjun, always the sharpest, easily replies. “No they aren’t. The phone lines are down. Nice try, though.”

She frowns. “Shit. Are you here to kill me then? Or just to eat my food?” The way she asks the question is so calm, it’s as if she’s asking about the weather. Donghyuck can’t help his giggle. She glances at him and he quickly calms his expression.

“We’re hiding. We thought this house was empty, but apparently these three couldn’t do their job right.” Renjun motions to the other boys, and okay, wow. He feels a little attacked.

“I didn’t check one room because it was locked!” Jeno exclaims, exasperated.

They start bickering, and Hyuck turns his attention back to the girl. She’s wearing a shirt that looks like it’s three sizes too big, the hem reaching past whatever pants she’s wearing. Her hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in about a week, and there’s smudges of leftover makeup around her eyes. She’s pretty- not the time to be focusing on these things, but whatever, he can’t help it- even though she’s half asleep and looks about ready to give up and go back to bed. The biggest yawn he’s ever seen leaves her and then she’s walking over to the counter, plopping down on it.

“Sorry, hiding from who? I’m going to tell you right now that I will not be happy if the feds come knocking down my door.” She swings her legs back and forth, the action revealing neon pink sleep shorts.

The four boys all share a look. Jaemin opens his mouth, then closes it, considering the options. Obviously they have to tell her the truth, but there’s not really a way to say it that won’t sound crazy. There’s no evidence to back them up. No internet access to show her proof.

They have a silent conversation for a while- consisting of a lot of furrowed brows and widening eyes- before Donghyuck has enough and leans back in his seat, turning to her. “Zombies.” She snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure. Honestly, if you would’ve said aliens, I would’ve let you stay. But zombies? That’s kind of lame, don’t you think.” Renjun rolls his eyes. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be hiding from aliens. They would be hiding from me.” It’s Jeno’s turn to roll his eyes. “Injun, that’s not helping.” “We’re not joking.” Jaemin says, glaring at the other two before turning his attention to the girl. “Believe me, I wish it was. And I know it sounds crazy, but we saw it happen right in front of us.”

“You’re telling me that I slept through the beginning of the zombie apocalypse.” She deadpans, obviously expecting at least one of them to break character and laugh.

All four boys remain grim.

The smile quickly fades into a frown and she looks at them more carefully. Maybe it’s the fear and pain in their eyes at the memory of yesterday’s events. Maybe she can see through all of them, can see the horrifying images that are printed on the back of their eyelids. Whatever it is, she finally seems to believe them.

“You’re serious?” They all nod. “Shit.” She hops off the counter, walking over to them. “Pass me the food, you have some explaining to do.”

#nct #nct dream #nct fic #nct dream fic #jeno fic #jaemin fic #renjun fic #donghyuck fic #haechan fic #nct dream angst #jeno angst #jaemin angst #renjun angst #donghyuck angst #haechan angst #nct angst #00 line #x reader

574 notes · View notes

cheeseflavouredjuul · 4 years ago

Text

more than enough.

a college part bokuaka fic that no one asked for but everyone needed :)

Akaashi hadn’t wanted to come to this dumb party, but as a stupid senior in high school, he’d promised to see Bokuto once a week minimum and he was especially busy this week and it just happened to be a Saturday and he just happened to have no valid excuse for his friend. So, when Bokuto called him saying he was out the front of his college’s dorm, Akaashi threw on the first pair of presentable pants and matching top, raked his hair back and reminded himself he didn’t actually care what Bokuto’s friends thought of him and left.

As usual, Bokuto was over the moon to see him, and if Akaashi was being honest with himself he had missed him more than usual too. So, when he clung to Akaashi a little tighter and for a while longer, it was enough to remind him why he’d made that promise all those years ago.

By the time they made it back to Bokuto’s campus the party was in full swing, drunken yelling and loud EDM music blared through the building and out onto the street. But neither of them wasted time soaking in the scene, Bokuto grabbing Akaashi by the shoulder and navigating him through the house and out the back where his friends sat.

As usual, the boys dominated in beer pong for a couple of rounds before they got kicked off for still being sober. so Bokuto’s friends turned to another method, a friendly game of Russian roulette and with some egging on they were at opposite ends of the table with a shot glass covered lazy Suzan placed between them.

“rules are simple, you spin the lazy Suzan and whichever glass lands closest to you, you have to drink.” Bokuto explained like they haven’t played the game hundreds of times. After fifteen minutes the two of them were a sputtering mess as Akaashi took the final shot, straight vodka.

Laughter erupted in the backroom and Akaashi took a bow, settling on the couch between Bokuto and an even bigger guy he’d seen on Bokuto's team, he was introduced as Daniel but as soon as they were acquainted he stood and left them as the others migrated inside for the keg chugging contest. Neither Bokuto nor Akaashi moved as Akaashi explained his newest writing gig and Bokuto rested his head on his leg as he listened intently.

As the conversation changed from work to school, to Bokuto springing the fact the Akaashi would be his plus-one for the Olympics over in Rio. Akaashi was shocked but he wasn’t surprised, they’d always talked about going together when they were younger, but as Akaashi found his love for writing and comics, he found the idea of watching him win from the sidelines much more appealing. While a small part of Bokuto mourned the thought of them playing together once again, he was still happy for Akaashi and his choices and over the moon for his success.

As Akaashi went to talk about all the fun things they could do in Rio, Daniel came back with a smaller girl by his side and interrupted.

“Ak- er, Bokuto your friend’s been asked for inside.” He says and he throws Akaashi a forgiving look for forgetting his name. Bokuto sat up and quirked a brow towards him.

“Tell them he’s with me and he doesn’t smoke that shit, and he definitely won’t take whatever they’ve got.” He laughs and Daniel shrugs his shoulders.

“Nah man, it’s a girl, I think she’s in a class with Kane.” He offers and before he knows what’s going on Akaashi’s being pulled to his feet and whisked off inside before he leaves Bokuto with a; “if I’m not back in ten I’m probably dead and you’ll need to come to find me.” He jokes and Bokuto waves him off, averting his glance to another one of his classmates.

“What does this girl want?” he asks and Daniel shrugs.

“No idea, she’s waiting for you in the bathroom. The second door on the right.” He explains and Akaashi is filled with dread, nothing good ever happens in bathrooms at party’s, he’s all too aware of that. But still, something in him wills itself up the stairs and into the bathroom. But before he closes the door he’s met with an eerily familiar face.

“Akaashi Keiji.”

“William Sato?” he asks and is met with an icy glare as the other man leans past him and shuts the door, “don’t tell me you’re the ‘girl’ who wanted to see me!” Akaashi laughs.

William wasn’t as entertained by his question as he backed Akaashi into the corner of the room, “when I saw you two chatting away like old friends I was reminded of high school, remember back then? Such good times.”

“What’s this about, William, I’m here for Bokuto not for your petty bullshit.” He explains but William is unmoving and reasonably larger than Akaashi so he had no hope of overpowering him, “we’re all adults, give it a rest.”

“No, I’m not giving anything a rest till I’ve had my way.”

“Oh yeah, and what do you want?” he asked unmoved by his attempt at being sinister.

“I wanna know, what do you think Bokuto would do if I took a couple of swings at his beloved vice-captain?” William asked as he lunged at Akaashi, stopping meet centimetres from his face, “leave some nice little bruises on his little bitch.” He spat and Akaashi decided he’d had enough and kneed him in the groin and shoved him back into the shower door.

“Who’s to say he’d care at all, huh?” Akaashi said as he shook him and pinned him still, “just because he didn’t pick you, doesn’t mean you need to act like this, I’m no one’s little bitch you salty fuck.” Akaashi’s words stabbed into William’s conscience and he snapped, tripping Akaashi as he shoved him backwards, looming over him as he thudded to the ground.

“If you’re so against my abuse, how about I deal directly with Bokuto huh, might take out a tendon or something, sure he’d understand my pain then, crap he could kiss the Olympics goodbye for sure!” William said inertly as he pulls out a pocket knife from his sleeve and flicks it open, “or you could do him a solid and take it like a man.” He sneers and Akaashi tries to get to his feet, but William kicks him back and he slams his head on the ceramic towel rail, then again and William grabs a fistful of hair and throws him back, now his shoulder slams into the towel rail and he hears it smash. Akaashi’s eyes were on William but he didn’t need to see the rail to know it was broken.

“Your psychotic!” Akaashi growls and William laughs kneeling to give Akaashi nowhere to run to, “what do you hope to achieve by these senseless acts of violence?” He asked as his hands searched for a shard of the towel rail when his hands met the cold sharp ceramic he felt for the biggest piece and took it in his hand.

William stops laughing and punches Akaashi straight in the nose, “senseless, am I joke to you?” He asks as he lifts another fist, landing another hard punch into his left eye.

Akaashi smelt pepper and fought the urge to cup a hand under his now dripping nose, “yes, you are a joke to me, how am I supposed to take you seriously.” He replied and William tried another punch but Akaashi clamped down and his hand slammed into the tile behind him. but before William could recoil, Akaashi had the shard of the ceramic towel rail neatly angled against his chin, “he picked me for a reason, and it isn’t that I’m hot and you’re not, it’s because you suck at volleyball and show no sign of minimising your ginormous ego enough to listen to anyone’s advice.” Akaashi spoke low as he grabbed the hand he wielded the knife with and pried open his hand, taking it from his grasp and shoving him away.

Like clockwork, the door swung open and Bokuto entered the scene, looking wide-eyed and confused as he tried to process what he was seeing, but before he could speak Akaashi stood, “work on your form and you might just make next season’s line up.” Akaashi said as he walked over to Bokuto who’d now noticed the blood still streaming from Akaashi’s nose and the switchblade he definitely didn’t own.

“It’s been twelve minutes and well-”

Akaashi's hand was on his right peck and Bokuto was being shoved back and pulled down the hall.

“Akaashi?” he asked as he trudged after his bleeding friend. But he didn’t stop, he didn’t answer, he just kept walking, so Bokuto waited until they were close to his room before he sped up and stopped Infront of him, pulling him back into his empty dorm room.

“Keiji, what’s going on?” He asked as he trapped him between the door, “talk to me, please?”

“Why did you pick me?” His voice was rushed and his mind was obviously somewhere else, his eyes stung with tears but Akaashi still managed to wear a demanding look, but he knew he’d never manage to fool Bokuto.

“What?”

“All those years ago, why’d you fucking pick me!” Akaashi broke as his shoulder slumped and he landed an unmotivated punch into Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto paused as he couldn’t answer, his mind was too concentrated on the darkening purple that had now settled under his left eye and Akaashi’s shaking hands. Bokuto laughed humourlessly as he backed away and sat Akaashi on his bed, leaving him to go to the freezer for frozen peas. Giving himself enough time to think of the reason. When he returned Akaashi was laying down and his eyes were closed and brow furrowed as he grumbled something Bokuto couldn't quite hear.

“I don’t know why I just.” He paused as he helped Akaashi upright and held the bag of peas against his eye, he swatted his hand away and held it himself. “This is going to sound cheesy but I remember seeing you and your mother sitting on our bench at that game you guys attended in high school, you looked so bored and uninterested, but after I hit that first jump float I looked back over to you again without even thinking and well, I haven’t stopped looking since.” Bokuto smiled down at his hands.

“That’s so dumb.” Akaashi laughed and Bokuto would’ve been taken aside by his laughter after being so honest, but Akaashi was laughing while he held a bloody tissue to his nose, so he wasn’t too concerned.

“Well after you decided you wanted to play for us, I decided that I wanted you to play for me, to play beside me, as an equal.” He explained as Akaashi put the cold bag of peas down and cupped his hand under Bokuto’s chin. “Is that why he hit you?” He asked as he lifted his head to meet Akaashi’s deep expression.

“As an equal, I was never equal, how could I ever be equal to you?” Akaashi laughed as he searched Bokuto’s face for something he wasn’t sure of, he just couldn’t look away. “Koutarou, I always looked up to you, I think after that game I put you on this pedestal and haven’t taken you off since, you know it still shocks me that you’re going to the Olympics next fall and you’re sitting here with me, so close I could-” Akaashi cut himself off as he pulled his hand away.

“Could what?”

“I remember when you walked me home the first time; you stood by the gate and waited until I was inside safe, I never understood why you waited so long, why’d you pick me?” he asked again and Bokuto’s eyes widened and he placed a hand on Akaashi’s knee and he leant closer, understanding that he wasn’t asking about volleyball anymore.

“I chose you because I didn’t have any other choice!”

“But you did, you could’ve picked anyone, the entire school threw themselves at your feet, but you picked me, why’d you write them off but not me?” Tears began to well in Akaashi’s eyes as he begged to spit out the right words, “why didn’t they make the cut.”

“They’re not you, I don’t want it if it’s not you.” He replied and Akaashi wouldn’t have been any wiser if his lungs had shrivelled up and died because at this moment he’d forgot how to breathe, “I wish you could see what I see, Keiji.” Bokuto’s words were low and heavy as Akaashi breathed out harshly.

“No.” he managed as he stood abruptly as he grabbed his shaking hands in one another, “don’t say things you don’t mean.” He sounded offended as he stood motionless with his head pointed down.

Bokuto stood in front of him as he struggled to find the right words, “I don’t know when I became this person you’ve idolised but I’ve always been just here with you.” He said as he placed a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder, “I chose you because no one else would be good enough.”

“I’m not good enough, that’s the problem.” He replied angrily as he shrugged Bokuto off him and glared at him. Bokuto was taken back by the sadness in his eyes, he’d always hated seeing Akaashi sad but this was something else.

“You are more than enough!”

“Stop lying to yourself, I could never be enough, I’d only bring you down with me.” He tried to pass Bokuto as everything got all too much for him, but Bokuto stepped across and Akaashi slammed into him. Akaashi stepped back and laughed, “do you remember that girl from yearbook club, she did the spread for your senior year, well I thought you two hit it off really well, in fact, Kuroo and I placed bets on whether or not you guys would get together, well she was really really nice, where’d she go wrong?”

“Because she wasn’t you, Akaashi. I don’t know how many times I can say this without getting through to you but; fuck the Olympics, when you stood by my side I didn’t want anything else, I just wanted to be with you, I don’t care what happens after that game, as long as your still by my side I know everything will be fine.” He said as Bokuto felt his cheeks reddening with anger.

“For fuck sake, why?” Akaashi yelled back and something in Bokuto snapped, he took four steps forward, breathed deeply and for the first time in four years he gave into his feelings as he pressed his lips to Akaashi’s and kissed him with every ounce of his being.

“Because I love you, and I have loved you ever since high school and I’ll probably love you until the day I die.” He said as he broke the kiss and looked to Akaashi in fear. “I chose you because even if I wanted to I don’t think I could pick anyone else.”

Akaashi’s eyes were set on Bokuto's yellow eyes, he’d seen them in many different lights but with the dim lights of his room, they looked so dark.

“You love me?”

“Yes Akaashi!” he laughed.

“How could you ever love me.” He muttered as the tears that built in his eyes finally fell, and before he knew it he was sobbing uncontrollably as he felt his knees give in and fall to the floor and Bokuto swallowed him in a hug. Akaashi wished he was a stronger man, strong enough to leave and save Bokuto the hassle of loving him, but as his cold hands brushed his warm forehead holding him against his chest, holding him so tightly. Akaashi wondered if Bokuto could actually love someone like him, someone so much lower than himself.

“How could I not?”

#bokuto #koutarou bokuto #akaashi #akaashi keiji #bokuaka #bokaka #bokuto x akaashi #haikyū!!#kaikyu #haikyu fic #angsty akaashi #bokaka fic #bokuto x akaashi fic #bokuaka fic #bokuaka fanfic #bokuaka angst

9 notes · View notes

unpopular-bishop · 4 years ago

Text

celebrity au

Athletic fandoms are a special sort of experience. Having his own favorite athletes, Team has been involved in a debate or two in his time, has watched fan videos and even stumbled upon a few fics here and there, but he’d never been particularly involved with or interested in the personal and private lives of his favorite athletes growing up. He knew some of them were married with kids and some of them weren’t, and some had been in trouble for bad behavior or substance abuse here and there, but that was about it.

He and Win had never really talked about how to handle their relationship in terms of the public eye, or whatever. Team just...worked his way up from college, training and practicing and placing at meets until, one day, suddenly, he was in a hotel room about to compete for gold at the Olympics. Between graduating and that hotel room, he’d picked up a few fans. Some sports enthusiasts, some friends, a few others. He’d done a couple interviews about his swimming, about how it felt to represent Thailand or his trainers. And then he’d placed, brought home gold, and suddenly he had...a few fans more than before. At least a handful.

Still, they’d never really...talked about it. Win was proud of him and went to every competition that he could go to, even if he couldn’t actually go to the Olympics with Team, but he also was always sure to give Team space. This was Team’s thing, and the resort business was Win’s, and they’d meet in the middle and mingle and share but it was important to them both that they were allowed independence that some couples (Dean and Pharm) weren’t interested in maintaining. Team appreciated that, but it turns out that sometimes the willingness to give each other space in their own things leads to being caught off guard.

Like now.

And the interview had started so well.

“So, P’Team,” his interviewer, a nice young woman named Soul, smiles through the screen and Team forces a smile back. He hates interviews, hates interviews, and he’d rather be anywhere but in front of another Zoom call. But his publicist said he needed to do this and Win had promised more Lays after it was over if he kept it together long enough to continue convincing the world he liked anything outside of swimming and eating. At least Soul has been gentle with him; she’s mostly just been asking about his history and that’s familiar. He’s had his answers to “What made you want to swim” and “Why did you decide to be a swimmer” down pat since he first started to compete seriously. It’s all anyone wants to know, usually, alongside some inspirational bullshit that Pharm helped him word a few years ago. Soul is working for a magazine doing a short online feature on him but it isn’t insanely long. This should wrap up soon.

“Can you tell us a little more about your life outside of swimming? You’re always so focused in interviews, so honestly we are a little bit curious about it.”

“Outside of swimming?” Team lets himself lean back in his chair, lets himself think about what he wants to share here. “I like to eat.”

Soul laughs, “Actually, you’ve made no secret of that! I think we all remember you getting out of the pool at your last meet and your manager waiting with a bag of take-out.”

“I really like to eat.” Team shrugs. “Uh, really, there isn’t much outside of swimming. I train and then go eat and then sleep and wake up and do the same thing. Sometimes I play video games.”

He lifts a hand to brush his hair out of his face nervously and then notices Soul’s eyes zero in on his fingers.

“Oh, P’Team! Is that a new ring?”

Team looks at his hand, at the ring she’s mentioned and can’t help the smile that fights its way back to his face. “Yeah. Hia and I just got engaged.”

Soul’s eyes go wide. “Hia?”

“Hia Win,” he says to clarify, in case she’s confused about some other hia.

She blinks, and then he blinks, and the silence lasts for a few seconds before Win ducks his head into the office where Team has set up for the interview, hair still pulled up from being in the ktichen. “Sorry, did you need me? I heard my name?”

Team turns around so he can see Win for real and not just on his screen and shakes his head, “No, N’Soul just asked about my ring.”

“Oh. Okay, sorry to interrupt!” Win smiles really big, the smile he’s been shooting around a lot lately since the engagement and disappears again. When Team turns back around, Soul is muted and talking to someone off screen with a message in chat saying ‘I’m sorry! Just a second, my producer is here!’

Team waits patiently, playing with his ring, watching Soul speak off-screen with an increasingly mulish expression that eventually clears back into the bright smile she’s been wearing most of the interview.

When she unmutes, she is still smiling. “Sorry, P’Team! We just needed to have a quick meeting. Congratulations on your engagement! We’ll cut that out, so please don’t worry at all about it.”

“Cut it out?” Team’s lips twist, “Why? Should I not talk about it?”

“It’s just,” Soul pauses, “You’ve never mentioned your partner before. I don’t want to out you if you were just answering my question and not interested in going public with the knowledge. My producer and I agreed to cut the question so please don’t worry about it!”

“That’s -” Team starts to say not true, and then stops because...oh.

Has he ever talked about Win? In an interview?

“That wasn’t on...purpose.” He finally says, “I’m fine being out or whatever. We are fine being out.” But actually, is he? “Wait. Can you give me a minute? Like five?”

“Of course,” Soul says but Team has already muted and turned back to the door.

“Hia! Hia, there’s a problem!”

“Did you set something on fire?” Win bumps through the door, probably thinking the interview is over because he’s got a tray of chicken still balanced between two mitted hands. “Oh. Team, you’re camera is still on.”

“So apparently I’ve never mentioned you before in an interview?” Team rolls right over Win’s words, brain already fried just trying to understand how he’s been competing for years now and has somehow forgotten to mention his boyfriend-cum-fiance? He’s thanked Win in a few interviews, he’s absolutely positive he has. But told people that Win wasn’t just - someone, but that he is someone to Team?

“Oh.” Win blinks, “I thought you were just keeping it under wraps.”

“Keeping what under wraps?” Team frowns harder, feeling irritated for some reason, “N’Soul said that too. Why would I want to be quiet about this?”

“I don’t know!” Win looks between Team and the chicken, surely starting to feel the heat through the mitts, “Being out in a competitive field is hard, I guess! I just thought you didn’t want that kind of lime light!”

“And you were okay with that? Me treating you like some sort of secret?”

“You aren’t treating me like a secret, Team.” Win scoffs, sounding unbearably fond, “But you’re a private person. It isn’t like we hide it when we go out or anything, you just don’t talk about us when people bring your personal life up. That’s fine with me, baby.”

“It isn’t fine with me!” Team stands up and starts ushering Win out of the room so they can have this conversation off camera and without chicken burning Win’s hands.

“Okay.” Win nods once the chicken is down and they’re standing in the kitchen, “So you...want to come out?”

“I thought I was out!”

“Got it,” Win puts his hands up in defeat, still mitted. “So you want to come out about me, then?”

Team resists the urge to yell I thought I was again, and just nods stiffly.

It’s making his stomach roll, the thought that Win has just been silently thinking Team wasn’t ready, wasn’t willing, didn’t think he was worth the fight to be open about. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Win smiles again, and it isn’t the big bright one that is so common now, but a smaller one. It’s soft and vulnerable. Something Team hasn’t seen in quite a while but which he recognizes immediately as the sort of smile he wants to keep locked up safe in his chest where no one can touch it but he and Win.

“Are you out at work about me?” Team asks, twisting his ring around his finger slowly.

“Of course.” Win assures him, taking the mitts off and setting them on the counter before pulls Team’s hands into his own, “But I work in an office that my family owns, in a job that I know I won’t lose, with people that I know can’t do shit to me or my career, baby. You’re a public figure and have a lot more to risk than I do. It’s okay if you want to wait until you’re done competing, or if you want to keep quiet for however long. I know you love me, I’m not upset or hurt.”

“Well, I am!” Team snaps, even while he grips Win’s hands tight and yanks him closer to hug, “I don’t care if people get pissy about it! You’re my fiance. I’m going to marry you! I don’t care about what some idiots say online or in the crowd or whatever!”

“You could lose sponsors, Team.” Win says patiently and Team can’t help but wrinkle up his nose.

“I don’t want homophobic sponsors, hia.”

Win barks a laugh and drapes his arms around Team’s shoulders, curling his elbows up so he’s cradling Team’s head. When he leans forward, it’s to rest their foreheads together. Team can’t help but look at him. Years now, and he’s still so handsome. Team would hate it except that he loves it so much. Loves how Win looks and walks and acts, even. Loves that Win is wearing his ring, and is going to put his name next to his on paperwork that binds them together.

“If this is what you want,” Win nudges their noses together, light and airy, “Of course I want the public to know that we belong together.”

“You’re sure?” Team has to check, just to be sure, and only really feels the tension leave him when Win nods again. He squeezes Win’s hips, plants a firm kiss on his lips, and then escapes the embrace to go back to the office. He has an engagement to announce and he imagines that he’s gonna have to call his publicist after this. The chicken is probably gonna be cold by the time he actually gets to it.

He twists the ring around his finger again as he sits down in front of Soul, who’s looking a little unsure now.

“Sorry, nong, I just needed to talk to my fiance. Don’t cut that question, please. He isn’t a secret. We aren’t a secret, I mean.”

She smiles, big and bright, and Team smiles back.

#until we meet again #winteam #mine #tags: winteam week 2020 | day 6: celebrity au | team really did think he had already done this (whoops)#wc: 1.8k #ao3 link on first line

5 notes · View notes

sasuhinasno1fan · 4 years ago

Text

Snipets of a Red Ranger and Blue Ranger- Klance Week Day 4

I’m a simple girl, I see ‘Rangers’ I think Power Rangers and I am not sorry. And yes, it’s Samurai Rangers, I liked the season, sue me. @klanceweek Rangers, Cow, Lawless

Lance was restringing his bow, trying to tighten it without it snapping, which it had already done twice. Usually he wasn’t so distracted but he had a good excuse. What else was he supposed to do when he found out one of the biggest secrets the Red Samurais were hiding?

There was no easy was to explain his unique family line other than that they were the longest line of Power Rangers that existed. The appearance of some other Rangers, who hoped from the future to the past, had unintentionally unleashed another dimension filled with monsters known as Galra. Their world, the Netherworld, sat on the bank of the Sanzu River, water capable of destroying everything. A lord and his band of samurai went against these creatures and through their perseverance and using written talismans, they accessed the Morphing Grid, giving them the look and protection of the Ranger uniform and turning the talismans to Symbol Power. When the era of samurai ended, the lord made the samurai his retainers. And so, as time passed, the children would take their families place when it came time, defending their home. When the Red Ranger had first discovered a symbol to seal the Galra away, he was able to do so, allowing the group to split up and live not fighting for their lives.

They all eventually led back together back when his dad was his age. The seal had been cast again at the cost of the Red Ranger’s life, but it wasn’t strong enough. It became the next generations’ job to end this 19-generation long war. Lance didn’t think he’d be the one to be doing it. His main focus was to become one of the first biracial members of the Japanese Olympic archery team. He was close to, until every one of his siblings decided what they wanted mattered more and dumped the youngest with the responsibilities. His father tried to force him by stating that the Dragon Origami would only listen to Lance, but he that was a lie. Everyone else got off but because he was the last one, he had to obey orders. He put up a good fight, staying away from his family and proving himself to be Olympic material. But the seal officially broke the day of his biggest competition and even when he ignored the summons arrow, Lance was kidnapped by the Kuroko, the shadows who served the samurai families, and thrown into a car. He might not have wanted to be there, but he wasn’t an asshole who would walk away when people needed help. He did make his position very clear, his father had to get one of his siblings to take his place because he wouldn’t stay.

Once everyone heard his whole story, they were mostly understanding, including their leader Keith. Hearing him promise to talk to his dad almost seemed too good to be true but he’d heard him calling his dad. Then it made sense when Allura told him the big secret.

Keith, wasn’t born into the Red Ranger line, because the pervious Red and Pink ranger did the biggest no-no. they had a kid together. to make sure there was always a Ranger from each family line, they were instructed to not fall in love with one of their teammates. Keith was actually the kid of a Kuroko that somehow had caused the Lion Origami to react to him. Allura was technically the Red Ranger who could cast the Sealing Symbol. Her weekend shopping trips, were actually trips to a secret temple where ancestors of the same people who helped their lord discover the Sealing Symbol would teach it to her until it was perfect.

Keith was willing to help him, because technically he wasn’t supposed to be doing this either. He was just a stand in until the time was right. Lance still didn’t know what to do with this information. He was glad they trusted him with it, but it was only cause they all thought he’d be leaving.

“Lance?” Keith called from the other side of the door as he knocked. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Keith came in, closing the door behind him. He dropped down on Lance’s bed, looking at the mess of the low table that was covered in archery care stuff. “Guess I know why you disappeared after we got back from the baseball game.”

“It was a little league game and baseball makes no sense.” Lance threw out, feeling tense. He knew why Keith was here.

“So, Allura told me she talked to you when you guys were keeping an eye on the kid’s house.”

“Yeah, talked.”

Keith always looked so self-assured and confident, that to see him so unsure and nervous was weird.

“I hope your not upset that I’m doing this for Allura. My father was killed during a Galra attack and he was getting civilians out of harms way. Allura’s dad took me in, even when everyone said I wasn’t worth it. They kept pushing him to marry someone so he’d have a kid to carry on the Red line, but even knowing that it would be Allura, he still treated me like I was his kid. So, I don’t mind being a stand in for her. If it mostly keeps her safe, then I’ll do it.”

Lance let out a huff. “Wish my siblings cared that much. You’d give up everything to help her but everyone expects me to drop everything to make them happy. I won’t say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I know. I get why you want to leave, but the Blue line is usually the second in command and in my opinion, someone who’d still help even when he wants a way out is a pretty worthy.”

Lance was honoured. How was he supposed to still act like a spoiled child when someone who didn’t even have to led a team and take the most hits did?

“Thanks for the compliment but,” he said instead, plucking at the string on his bow, “the Olympics are waiting for me.”

“Fair enough. And thank you for keeping this secret. We’ll tell them eventually.”

“They’ll understand.” Lance reassured. He was sure they would. It would be the 4 of them against everything. He just wished he’d be there to help if it went badly.

__________

Getting mind controlled was not fun. Just that morning things were going great. He and Keith had a sparing match and he was so close to actually beating Keith and Keith told him his dad would finally come to the Samurai House and talk. Then that annoying big talking mind controlling Galra made a mess of everything. All it took was a hit and he became a mindless drone who turned his sword against his friends. He was lucky Keith was able to snap him out of it with that burst of Symbol Power but his dad thought it was a glaring sign that he needed to stay with the team. So, he might have been thinking of maybe staying but he wanted it to be his choice, not forced by his dad. And now his head hurt more.

“Lance?”

“Come in.” he called, keeping his arm over his eyes.

He heard Keith turn the light off before he felt him tap at his arm to move it. He let out a grateful groan when he felt an ice pack drop on his face.

“I’m sorry things didn’t go well with your dad.” Keith said, the bed dipping as he sat down.

“You know, I’ve actually considered staying.” Keith stilled but stayed silent, letting Lance continue. “My whole life I’ve always been the scapegoat or had things taken just to satisfy the older ones. Much as I want to, I can’t be too mad at Marco and Veronica, they had good reasons. Everyone else, not so much. I just want one major decision in my life to be made by me.”

That sat in silence as Lance calmed down and hoped his head would stop hurting before Keith asked something.

“If you do decide to stay, would you consider being my second in command?”

Lance laid there, trying to decided if Keith was serious just from his voice alone. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s fine. Do you want me to go?”

And leave him stewing in thoughts he didn’t want to hear? Not a chance.

“Tell me about your dad.” It was the first thing that came to mind and for a moment he was gonna take it back when Keith started talking.

“He was probably one of the only Kuroko who couldn’t cook.”

___________

In a turn of events, Lance knocked on Keith’s door. The fight against the half Galra Lotor was finally over and they were getting closer to defeating them. They’d see how much farther they could go once Shiro was able to unlock the Black Box, but for now, while Keith recovered, they could breath.

“Come in.” Lance opened the door, his eyes drawn to Keith’s exposed back as he struggled to pull his shirt off. It was getting harder and harder to not get a crush on Keith. He had to keep reminding himself that it was what got Allura’s parents into trouble in the first place. He was starting to see why they had the problem in the first place. How was he supposed to stop how he felt?

“Need help?” Lance offered.

“Sure, second-in-command.”

At dinner, he announced he’d stay with the team and publicly accepted Keith’s offer.

He was able to get Keith’s shirt off without aggravating his wounded arm too much. The view of his chest was distracting.

“I’m glad you decided to stay.” Keith said, pulling his eyes up. “It would have been hard to form the same bond with one of your siblings.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I did too. Finally feels like I can make my own decisions and not get looked down at.”

“You? Never?”

God, it was the compliments, it had to be. How else would he feel like a shy person when around Keith at times? They stood there, staring at each other when Lance couldn’t take it anymore. He kissed Keith. Keith didn’t push him away, if anything, he tried to pull him closer as he kissed back. Lance was careful as he rested his hands on Keith’s neck, not wanting to pull away when he did.

“We shouldn’t.”

“We really shouldn’t.” Keith said, using a finger to pull Lance back in and kiss him again.

This was so against the rules. Then…why did it feel so right?

_______________

Lance was getting ready for bed when a quite knock came to his door. Keith slipped in when Lance opened the door. The hallway was already dark and Lance would bet that Coran would be by any minute to come check on them.

“Hi.” Keith said.

“Hey.”

The air was slightly tense. It wasn’t because of all those secret kisses and hard to keep promises about waiting until the war was over. It was what happened on that island. A small island an hour’s boat ride away that had cut off contact with the outside world because a Galra had burned a fear making talisman. The new addition to Zarkon’s crew, Sendak, had invited a Galra who believed in the blaster as opposed to the sword. It was like watching the era of samurai die, but thankfully Bandor, the same kid who led them to discover the hidden Bull Origami, had created a blaster to use with their swords. At the sight of Lotor still alive and standing had pushed Keith into overdrive. The fight had been bad and Keith got hurt. Words that Lotor said about Keith being just like him had gotten to him. Lance considered them lucky he was able to find them after Keith took off. Things were tense when the whole fight was over and they hadn’t talk anything out.

“Here.” Keith handed him a bag from LOFT. In it, was a lightweight scarf. Similar to the one Lance gave Keith as a makeshift sling and that he dropped when he went after Lotor. “I know it’s not the same colour but…”

It was red, close to the red Keith’s favourite jacket was. It was a claim and an apology.

“I shouldn’t have run off and I should have listened to you. You were right, I’m not like him, but the thing is…he’s kinda right.”

“What do you mean? Keith you can’t actually think that you care more about fighting than anything else.”

“It’s not that.” Keith started to look how he did when he first came to talk to Lance about the big secret involving him and Allura. “It’s more than just how we see fighting. It’s…down to our biology. He might have given his soul to become who he is, but…I was born like that.”

“What are you saying?”

“Lance…I’m half Galra. That’s why I kept taking Lotor’s words to heart. I didn’t want to be like him, lusting for battle.”

Half Galra? Like Lotor?

“But Coran said the House is warded against Galra. How are you not hurting right now?”

“It’s for full blooded Galra. That’s another reason most of the people who were here during your dad’s time didn’t like me. My dad was ‘spellbound’ by a female Galra. Somehow, they had be and she gave me to my dad to keep me safe.” He put spellbound in air quotes. “My dad wasn’t spellbound. My mom didn’t follow under Zarkon’s control and was actively looking for a way to be human. I don’t know what happened to her, just that I wanted to be the same kind Galra she had to be for my dad to fall in love with her. But Lotor’s words-”

“were wrong.” He should so be paying attention to what Keith said. He was half Galra, like Lotor, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The guy in front of him was Keith, his leader and the guy he liked. He fought like hell for his team and he deserved nothing less than his support. “The only thing you share in common with that guy is being half Galra. But you’re living proof that you don’t live in obsession.”

“Well, I do have one obsession.”

Lance looked confused when he realised what Keith was talking about and went red. “Oh, you mean me. Well, can’t blame your good taste. Just know that Lotor is wrong about you. When you tell the others, they’ll see that.”

Keith gave Lance a thankful smile before leaning up to kiss him.

“I thought we said no more until after the war?” Lance said, though he just wanted to pull Keith back for more.

“How am I supposed to wait when I have the best thing here? It’s starting to become hard to not kiss you all the time.”

“Good, I’m not the only one.” Lance said, capturing Keith’s lips again.

After the war, after he told his secrets, whatever. Lance knew what his next big life decision was. To stand next to Keith for as long as he could.

#klanceweek #power rangers au #samurai rangers au #red ranger keith #blue ranger lance #lance does archery #lance and his family don't get along

5 notes · View notes

theskyeandsea · 5 years ago

Text

Tangled Weeb of Lies || Orion, Winston, and Skylar

Location: Skylar’s Apartment

Trigger Warning: Chronic illness symptom mentions

Backdated: Friday, February 28th

Glancing around her apartment, Skylar let out a sigh. Everything looked good. She’d cleaned up a little bit, gotten some snacks ready to go in case Winston and Rio wanted to eat something while they watched, and had a large mug full of fresh coffee. Swiping her forehead, she glanced at her hand with a grimace before wiping the slight sheen of slime against her jeans. Nope, she wasn’t going to deal with this right now. She was going to have fun anime night with her friends and it was going to be fun and she wasn’t going to even think about the pelt that was draped over the chair in her room. Nope. Totally not going to think about it. Hearing a knock at the door, Skylar hurried across her apartment and smiled, hoping she didn’t look too exhausted. “Hey! I’m glad you could make it, come in.” She said.

Winston stepped through the front door as Skylar let them in and rummaged in their rucksack for the snacks and soda that they had brought as their own donation to the anime night snack fund. They looked at Skylar and was pleased to discover that she looked relatively healthy all things considered. They didn’t know exactly how long it had been since she’d last changed but she was definitely running down the clock on it again. “Hey! Thanks for having me,” they grinned and had to admit that they were a little excited, it had been a while since they’d just hung out with friends and enjoyed some anime, “am I the first person here? I didn’t know what snacks to bring so I got a selection…” they didn’t know if they were at the stage with things were hugging Skylar was appropriate so they didn’t even try it, just kind of awkwardly waved.

“Of course,” Skylar said, though her eyebrows scrunched together at their slightly odd wave. Brushing it off, she continued, “Mhm. But, it’s a small group. Just you, me, and Rio. Orion-- do you know him? He’s really sweet.” She was honestly glad that it was a small group. She wasn’t totally sure she could handle hanging around many people, her nerves were a little fried after everything she’d been through. The past two months had been hard enough, but the onslaught of magical garbage affecting her life had hit a fever pitch last Friday. She’d just wanted to go on a quiet date. And now poor Shiloh had been roped into things too. Ugh. Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she nodded, “And please, don’t even worry about the snacks. I’m not going to be eating any.” Before she could say anything more, she heard another knock at the door. “Ah, sorry. That must be him.” She said and headed to the door, “Hi! Welcome in.”

Orion stood near the door awkwardly trying to convince himself to go up and knock on it. Of course, the idea of having an anime night with people he didn’t know well was scary enough in itself, but the underlying meeting was just as terrifying. Rio had never purposely tested someone before to figure out if they were a species other than human. In all other cases, he had been with his family and praying that the tests would fail, refusing to do them himself. But tonight had been a special case. If Skylar was a Fae or werewolf or anything, Rio would have to come up with a plan b to keep her protected. But one thing at a time. Rio had snuck into his sisters room, stealing a silver ring as well as an iron ring, to cover both bases. He had slipped them onto his right index and ring finger and grabbed ahold of his bag of snacks and ran out of the house before his parents or sister had the chance to ask where he was going. Rio finally decided that it was now or never, so he took a deep breath and went to knock at the door. When they answered, he lit up with a genuine smile, “Hey! Skylar! So nice to meet you in person! I’m Rio. Or Orion. I don’t know if you’re a hand shaker or a high fiver?” Rio asked curiously, holding his hand out, rings exposed and ready to test the waters. From the doorway, Rio could see who he assumed was Winston. “Hey there! Nice to meet you!” He might as well test both, just to be safe.

“Nice to meet you too, in person.” Skylar said with a smile before opening the door to let him inside. Tilting her head a little bit in confusion, she blinked. “Um, hand shake, I guess? Do you prefer Rio or Orion?” She asked as she shook his hand quickly, hoping that her hand didn’t feel too slick in his. Shutting the door behind him, Skylar gesture over to Winston and the small offering of snacks she’d set up for the get together. “I’ve got some snacks over there, popcorn and some chips and things. There’s also Mountain Dew in the fridge, so help yourself to that. There’s also beer in the fridge for you, Winston.” She nodded in their direction, “Or help yourself to anything on the bar cart. It’s all fair game.” She really hoped that she was making a good impression on Rio-- he seemed really nice and she could honestly use some nice, nerdy friends.

Winston made their way over to Rio and gripped their hand firmly but politely. They hate it when the cops in the station would crush your hand in a hand shake. “Hey, I’m Winston, it is nice to get to meet a fellow weeb.” They laughed at their own joke before heading back towards the couch. “I’ve also brought some stuff,” Winston said and nodded for Orion to help themselves. “Thanks Skye thats sweet of you, can I get anyone else a drink while I’m at it?” They headed towards the fridge, the thought of an ice cold beer playing fresh on their mind. “Are you a big anime fan?”

Orion shook both of their hands! Without either of them burning! “Wooh!” Orion exclaimed excitedly after successfully acquainting with his new friends. “Uh sorry... just excited to be here.” He laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck and holding up the assorted bag of little Debbie snacks that he had brought along, “These are open to anyone. Uh thanks for inviting me! I’m super excited to meet you both and have some people to watch anime with! People call me both, but most people outside my family go with Rio.” He was clearly nervous and rambling. Winston had called Skylar, Skye. Should Rio do the same? Too much overthinking. “Oh! I’m a big anime fan! But I’ve never really had anyone to watch it with. I’ll take a Mountain Dew while you’re in there. Thanks!” He needed to calm his nerves if he had any chance of being invited back for another anime night. “So what are we watching?”

Eyebrows scrunching together in mild confusion, Skylar stared at Rio for a moment, but her expression quickly shifted back to normal after his apology. He was probably just a little nervous. She’d known her fair share of introverted people in college and there were always a few people who sort of overcompensated when they wound up meeting people. Poor guy. With a welcoming smile, Skylar nodded, “Rio it is. And thanks! I accidentally ate a large lunch so I’m not that hungry.” She said as she took a sip from her coffee mug. “I’m glad you two could make it, I haven’t watched things with people like this in a long time. Um… I know we talked about Haikyuu, but I’m also open to pretty much anything. Maybe nothing super gorey or gross?” She said, “Do you have any preferences, Winston?”

“Sure, I’ll stick with Rio if that is what you prefer,” Winston replied as they inclined their head gently, “So how did you too meet? I thought that after I met Skye I would know all the nerds in town but it is always a blessing to add another one of us to the hive mind.” They hadn’t been able to say something like that in a while, too much hanging out with people because they knew stuff about the supernatural world and not enough hanging out with people so they could play D&D together. Winston shrugged. Before grabbing some Mountain Dew for Orion and a beer for themselves. Skylar seemed set with her mug of coffee. “I’ve never watched Haikyuu and I’ve never really given any sports anime a go, but I am down to try something new. If we get bored we could always try something new. I don’t really have a preference it’s just cool to meet some new people and find some new anime to watch. Could always do with new recommendations if possible.”

“Oh, we met online and started talking about anime and stuff like that. Then we decided to try to meet up and have a little anime night. So here we are!” Orion explained, noting Skylar’s mention of not being hungry. One of the tests for supernatural creatures was diet. Many species had specific dietary restrictions that hunters could use to exploit and expose the creature’s secrets. Was that what this was? Or was she just truly not hungry? But Orion laughed at Winston’s comment, “Hive mind. I like that!” He grabbed the Mountain Dew from Winston and popped the tab open, taking a long drink. “Thank you! I really enjoy a lot of sports anime! It’s actually been around a really long time too. There was a Japanese animated short film back in 1928 called Animal Olympic Games! Most critics credit that as the first sports anime.” Orion mumbled off the top of his head, not sure why he thought that would be important information for either of them to know. “But I’m, among the few that I have seen I would say that Haikyuu is my favorite. It’s just really cute. But exciting.” Oh boy, they needed to start quickly so Rio could shut up apparently.

Rio seemed a little bit more excitable than Skylar had expected; or maybe she was just feeling more out of it than she had thought. It had been a little over two weeks since… Ricky and Remmy had forced her to change. She should be fine. She should still be okay. But the way she was feeling, it was worse than normal. “Mhm! It’s really neat that White Crest has a system for people to connect like this. It’s been really nice as someone who’s not super extroverted.” She said as she walked over to the TV and connected her laptop to the HDMI cord. Listening as the other two hashed out the details, Skylar waited for her computer to boot up. “Really? That’s neat, I didn’t know that!” Tilting her head at Winston, she spoke up, “If you want, we could start from the beginning of the show, so you have an idea of what’s going on? It’s totally your call, I’m not up to date.”

Raising an eyebrow, Winston passed the can of Mountain Dew over despite the fact that they couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Orion had a bit too much energy already. “Are you guys both relatively new to White Crest then?” Winston had been using the messaging boards since they could type and had been as such benefiting directly from there. Orion however seemed to really know their stuff about anime and Winston was starting to wonder if they might not be the most nerdy person in the room. They would obviously have to work harder to establish themselves as the apex nerd. “Sure, we can start from the beginning or you can throw me in at the deep end and I can tell you if I start drowning. Whatever you guys want.” They were starting to wonder if they needed to have someone here to help them make decisions since they all seemed to nice to do that.

Orion was talking too much. He knew that. But he figured it was either talk too much or cower back into his shell and not talk at all. Honestly he couldn’t be sure which one they would prefer. His nerves about the Fae testing hadn’t helped either. “I’ve actually lived here my whole life.” Orion shrugged at Winston, “But um... I didn’t get out much when I was younger. So.” Orion took another drink from his can, shaking it absent-mindedly to find that it was already more than halfway gone. “I’m fine with starting at the beginning. I think it’s important for context.” Orion eyed the hallway that he assumed led down to the bathroom and bedrooms. He tapped on his soda can idly and considered his options. Was he the kind of person to try to rummage through somebody’s personal possessions? Was it justifiable if it was to try to protect said person? “We should definitely get started before I start boring you guys with the history of Japanese volleyball.”

“I moved here back in August, so I’m the only newbie here.” Skylar said with a small smile before taking another sip from her coffee mug. Winston’s off-hand metaphor made her wince slightly at the thought of swimming, of having to-- nope. No, she wasn’t going to think about that right now. This was all about nerdy, normal people things. Not crazy, magic seal things. “Sounds great to me!” She said pulling up the first episode of Haikyuu before pausing. “You guys don’t have a problem with subs, right? It’s just easier for me.” She said, brushing her hair as casually as she could so Rio could see her hearing aids. It was a bit more subtle than saying “hey I can’t understand what’s going on because lip reading doesn’t work on cartoons” and tended to work. “And hey, I’m a fan of random trivia. I’d be happy to hear all about that.” She nodded.

“Oh, I guess we must have missed each other at high school or something,” Winston felt somewhat guilty for just assuming that Rio was brand new to town, but they seemed to have gotten away with it to some extent. “I am more then happy to have subtitles on,” Winston honestly was kind of lazy at paying attention to everything that they were watching, and as a result they often had subtitles on so they could back read anything they didn’t quite hear.” They popped their beer open and drank a mouthful, before settling into a sofa. “Is volleyball a big thing in Japan or something?” they asked casually, feeling themselves grow slightly hot under the collar as they felt somewhat embarrassed by their apparent awkwardness.

“Probably, I was pretty quiet in school. Mostly kept to myself.” Not everyone could be as outgoing as his sister, but Orion hadn’t thought much about it since high school. It hadn’t been a very fun four years of his life anyways; he’d rather just forget it ever happened. “Subs are perfect. I prefer them actually.” Orion agreed, catching a glimpse at the hearing aids that Skylar was wearing. He remembered her mentioning it online when they talked about ASL. “Sports in general are really popular in Japan,” Orion began, surprisingly thankful that the two didn’t seem annoyed by his random bursts of nerdy knowledge, “About 85% of kids in Japan are involved in some type of sport at school, it’s a little less nichey than sports in America tend to be. There’s even a national Holiday in japan specifically dedicated to sports.” Taiiku no hi. Orion decided against saying the name in case that was a bit too far on the nerdiness scale. “But volleyball has been around in Japan since the 1920’s. The debut of Volleyball in the Olympics was even in Tokyo. The women’s Japanese team took home gold.” He felt bad that he seemed to be monopolizing the conversation and decided to settle down into an open spot near the television. “Okay, sorry. We can get started now. I’m done I swear.” Orion laughed nervously and hoped that someone would put him out of his awkward misery.

Taking a seat on the sofa farthest away from Winston so as not to crowd them, Skylar hummed in amusement-- strange, how White Crest could feel like such a small town with so many coincidences, and yet stuff like this happened. Two people who had similar interests, had grown up here their entire lives, had never crossed paths. Well, she was happy to bring the two nerds in touch, she was happy to have more dorky friends who were into the same things she was. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” She said with a smile as she settled into the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. Oh wow, Rio really knew his stuff. And Skylar liked to think she was a bit of a trivia dork, but she had nothing on him. The most she knew was silly random fun facts about… bananas and things about sign language. “You’re all good, really. The more you know, you know?” She said, jokingly making the sign for rainbow, mimicking the meme. With a laugh, she started the first episode and watched as the animated characters appeared on-screen.

Orion could calm down long enough to enjoy a few hours of solitude and nerdy company, right? He couldn’t control his outright laugh at Skylar signing rainbow to reference the meme. “Clever” Orion laughed, settling back into his seat when she hit play so they could jump into the first episode. Orion quietly sang along to the opening theme song, hoping that he wasn’t too loud to disturb the other two from watching. Once they had gotten into the groove of the show, Orion could feel his anxiety finally start to calm down. But he kept catching himself eyeing the hallway. Against his better judgement, he couldn’t stop thinking about what more he could do to make sure he could keep Athena away from his new friends. Eventually after a couple of episodes of distraction, Orion couldn’t take it anymore. “Hey uh – Sorry. Could I use your bathroom really quick?” Orion asked, waiting for the permission to be granted before hopping up from his seat. “Please don’t pause it for me! I have seen this episode a hundred times. I can jump right back in! Be back in a minute!” Then he ran off down the hallway and towards the bedroom doors.

Skylar grinned, quietly pleased that Orion had understood her joke. It was kinda nice to have someone around who understood ASL more than the generic alphabet and question words. As they got into the show, she noticed that he had relaxed a little, something that honestly made her feel better about her hosting ability. Rio had seemed so nervous being here and she really didn’t want him to feel that way. He was super sweet, in person as well. As they made their way through the episodes, Skylar just felt… off. No matter how often she tried to focus on the anime in front of them, her mind drifted, cycling through worries. What did Shiloh really think of her? Would Remmy be okay? How was Nadia doing with her post-possession situation? Why was Nic out killing vampires? Was it really okay for her to take Alain’s self help books, what if he needed them? Why was Evelyn asking her all those questions? What about Blanche, was her magic nightmare situation still going on? How was poor Morgan dealing with her curse, did she need someone to talk to? Was Ricky ever going to forgive her? Would he even want to? All the questions weighed heavily in her mind, and her shoulders slumped deeper into the couch. The Karkinoids, the giant lobster boy, the eyeball that she still saw when she closed her eyes-- what were they? Why had they appeared? What had she gotten herself into, what had she gotten Shiloh into? It was-- It was too much. Dimly aware that Rio was saying something, she glanced over to where he’d been sitting and realized he was no longer in that seat. The episode they’d been watching had long ended. How much time had passed..? “Um, okay! I’ll just keep it going.” She said with a slight shrug at Winston. Where had Rio said he was going?

Though they were ignorant of this, unlike the other two, Winston was completely engrossed in the anime. They were drawn in by the detail, the art style, the tone. It was a difference from what they had previously been involved in in terms of their anime viewing experience but variety was the spice of life and honestly it was nice to do something that didn’t involve Ghouls, Fairies or Magic. Glancing over at Skye, they noticed the glazed look in their eyes and sat up gently as Orion left the room in search of their bathroom. “Hey,” they whispered, “you doing okay? You look like you’re a million miles away…” they gave her a reassuring smile before leaning back in their seat and placing a few kernels of popcorn into their mouth and chewing thoughtfully on the snack, “Orion seems like a cool dude.”

Orion rushed as quietly as he could into the hallway and gently pushed open the first bedroom door, peaking inside. Upon inspection, he wasn’t convinced that that was Skylar’s room. And pulled the door shut as quietly as he could and moved past it, eyeing the bathroom and then moving for the other door. He eased it open, noting the blue walls which stood out from the rest of the place. Against one wall stood a bookshelf that held stacks of comic books and manga along with a few pop figures. Bingo. Orion squeezer through the small opening and suddenly found himself standing in the middle of Skylar’s room. This was wrong. He knew how wrong this was. Maybe he didn’t deserve friends in the first place, if this was what he would have to do. But it was too late in this case, so he pushed himself forward, forcing himself to inspect the bookshelf and then the closet. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, but figured he would know if he found something. Ingredients for a spell, a pool of blood, being a Fae for dummies, anything. He moved to the bed and found nothing before finally inspecting the desk. He searched through the drawers, trying to be thorough in his search while also maintaining some level of privacy. He was ready to give up his search on account of not finding anything until he bumped into the desk chair. Clothes were tossed over the back of the chair, a detail Orion had completely ignored until he was up close and the bottom of the pile caught his eye. He carefully lifted the other clothes on top and his eyes widened at the discovery. Skin. He moved his hand to touch it and felt the leathery surface. Finally, all the pieces seemed to finally click together. Skylar was a selkie.

What if there was nothing she could do about all of this? What if Ricky was right, what if she had to confront-- Skylar forced herself back into the present and realized that Winston had said something to her. “I-- Sorry. I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.” She said with a shake of her head before bringing her coffee mug to her lips. She’d refilled it twice over the course of the episodes, which would usually be enough to bring her energy levels up to normal at this time of the month. But… it wasn’t working. She still felt drained, the coffee wasn’t helping, and she couldn’t get out of her head. “Rio seems really nice, mhm. I’m glad he had this idea. Maybe if we could make this a regular thing.” She said before glancing down the hallway. Wait… “Didn’t he say he was looking for the bathroom?” Skylar asked, her expression shifting to one of confusion. “Why’s the bathroom door open?”

Raising an eyebrow at Skylar’s response, Winston counted backwards in their head to the date that Ricky and Remmy had forced Skylar to change. “You sure?” they asked with a frown, not willing to push the issue considering that it was obviously an issue for Skylar, but they wanted their friend to be safe and well. They forced themselves to take a long breath and watch the anime. Skylar was her own person and she had her own level of autonomy. She had her own life and she could make all her own decisions without Winston’s help. Rising from their chair, Winston made their way over to the living room door and looked around. “Why is the bathroom door open?” they asked in agreement, “Maybe Orion just went the wrong way or something?”

The news couldn’t have been any more relieving, and Orion had to physically force himself from cheering aloud or prancing around like an idiot. Skylar was a selkie! A selkie! Sure, being human was the safest bet for Skylar, but this was better, no, safer than the alternatives. The only thing Orion could think of to test a Selkie would be their dietary restrictions, and that would be easy enough to work around. Plus, Orion had befriended a selkie! How cool was that? He placed the clothing back on top of the skin and made his way back towards the door. When he slid back out into the hallway he looked over to realize that both Skylar and Winston had apparently realized that Rio had not just gone to the bathroom. “Uh- wrong door” he laughed awkwardly, semi thankful that he had been an awkward disaster the entire evening so that he had that excuse going for him. Without another word he made his way into the bathroom, splashing his face with some water from the sink. He would sit in there for a few minutes, try to calm himself down. He hadn’t done anything wrong per say. Technically he had, but for the right reasons. This was totally forgivable, right? This was good. Maybe now that he had learned the truth he could finally just enjoy the anime night with his friends. The stress of dealing with his sister would have to wait another day. But just to be safe he was going to spend another minute or two in the bathroom practicing some breathing techniques.

“I’m sure,” Skylar said with a rather forced smile on her face, ignoring the way that her body was starting to ache in that familiar, ever-present way. The way that followed her around, day after day, no matter how much she rested or slept. The way that shouldn’t be happening right now. She should have had more time, she’d needed more time to just be normal. Why couldn’t she just be normal? Reluctantly, Skylar shifted from her place on the couch and followed after Winston to peer down the hallway. But, even as she looked over, she saw Rio scurry into the bathroom door with an awkward laugh, shutting the door behind him. He’d been awkward all evening, poor guy. “I don’t know how he could have gone into the wrong door-- it’s just our rooms and the bathroom down the hall.” She blinked with a shake of her head. Rio wasn’t some kind of pervert was he..? Had she made a mistake inviting him here?

Raising an eyebrow as Winston spotted Orion leaving Skylars room and promptly making a beeline for the bathroom. “I mean maybe check your room to see if anything has gone missing,” though they had to admit that Orion wasn’t exactly the type that seemed suspicious and this may well have just been an extension of their awkwardness but Winston didn’t want to take the risk that there was something more going on there. It seemed unlikely that someone like Orion was not human or was even aware of the supernatural, but then again Winston hadn’t known about it. “I can try and keep him distracted if you want, it was probably just an honest mistake though…” Pausing Winston looked to Skylar to see what she wanted to do, this was her place after all. Her call.

Grimacing, Skylar nodded. Winston had a point, there was an easy enough way of dealing with this. “Thank you. If he comes out before I do, just try and distract him somehow?” She asked before hurrying down the hallway. She slipped inside her room and glanced around-- her bookshelf looked normal, her sheets was still haphazardly tossed in an attempt at making the bed, and her chair. Eyes widening, she hurried over to her chair. Her skin. Her pelt. Shit. How could she have been so stupid to just leave it lying out? Had he found it? Had he taken it? Was he going to sell it on the black market like Ricky had said people did? Oh god. But, there it was. Under the clothes she’d hidden it under. Letting out a small sigh, she relaxed a little. Hang on. That still didn’t answer the question-- why had he been in her room? Oh no, he wasn’t actually a pervert, was he?

Footsteps down the hall made Orion’s heartbeat even faster. His hands were shaking and he could feel sweat collecting on them. He flushed the toilet, never bothering actually using it. He washed his hands and wiped them dry on the hand towel. He pushed back out into the hallway, glancing back quickly at the bedroom door. Skylar wasn’t in the living room anymore, she must have gone into the bedroom. Orion felt light headed from the guilt and his stomach began hurting. He wasn’t going to throw up in Skylar’s home, right? No... he needed to remain calm. Or as calm as possible for him. “Hey!” Orion muttered casually as he walked back into the living room and reclaimed his original spot. “Is Skylar okay? She looked a little out of it earlier.”

As Skylar left, Winston quickly came up with a lie. They weren’t sure why they had decided to suggest that they lie to Orion because they were perhaps the worlds very worst liar. They hoped that everything was in order. “Hey!” they replied jumping a little as Orion appeared once more, “I think she’s doing okay,” they replied their brain doing their best to churn out a lie that was plausible, “she just went to get changed, she was sat here and there was a … a …” their brain was blank, “a spider!” They paused for a sharp intake of breath because Skylar didn’t seem the type to be bothered by arachnids. “Anyway, there was this … uh spider and I hate spiders they give me the skeeves and so I spot this … spider and I kinda jumped and that made Skylar jump and as she jumped she was about to drink some of her coffee so it was in her hand and I think some of it spilled on her and she went to sort that, probably just cleaning up now or maybe she’s getting changed… i don’t know because I’m here with you and not out there with … her.”

With one final, troubled look around her room, Skylar grabbed one of the sports mangas from her bookshelf and walked back out to the living room, holding it up at her guests as she returned to the living room. Rio was back in his spot and Winston seemed… a little out of sorts? What had they said? “I… remembered that Haikyuu is kinda similar to Koroko No Basket and decided to grab the book my room, in case you wanted to borrow it?” She said, holding the book out to Rio to look through. But, her eyes were trained on Winston. Did her story match with theirs..? What had they said to Rio to distract him? Oh god. They should have lined their stories up before she’d gone into her room. Her stomach churned slightly, she hated lying, she hated making things up so much. Particularly when it was over something that could be easily found out. Dammit.

Orion followed along with Winston’s story to the best of his ability. Admittedly, it seemed pretty obvious that they were lying to Orion. “Oh... uh I get it though, spiders scare me too.” That wasn’t a lie, Orion was terrified of the things. Though he was terrified of a lot of things so spiders didn’t necessarily make the top of the list. “Yeah, that makes sense. I hope she’s good. Is the spider gone?” He confirmed that it was a lie when Skylar came out giving a completely different excuse wearing the same clothes. Orion laughed nervously. They all knew each other was lying, but how did Orion explain to the two that he had a (semi) legit reasoning for glancing through the room? Especially in front of Winston; who knew what they knew about Skylar? Orion wasn’t willing to out her just to save his own skin. “Oh! I haven’t read that yet!” Orion smiled as wide as he could and tried to sound casual. Did his voice just crack? Jesus. “Thank you! I really appreciate it. I can get this back to you soon, I promise. Uh-“ he motioned to change the subject, “are you doing alright? You look a little out of it.” Why did he have to ruin every good thing that happened to him?

Winston’s eyes went wide as they realised that Skylar hadn’t changed. “Hey, you managed to … get the stain out already, you really must give me that recipe you know to do that. I spill … stuff on me … all the time.” They really needed to get better at lying, this was not going to work out if they were going to continue putting themselves in these situations. Glancing up at Skylar, Winston frowned as they realised that Skylar didn’t really look herself. She didn’t look ill per se, more that there was something off about the way she viewed the room. A weird sheen in her eyes. “Do you want to come and sit down, maybe you should have a drink or something?” they looked at Orion and hoped that their lies would be forgotten. They wondered what was really going on here, was it possible that they were in danger. Winston would’ve normally written it off as simple miscommunication and misunderstanding, but suddenly they were so sure. After everything that had happened maybe they were getting a little paranoid.

Struggling to not just blink at the two of them in confusion, Skylar nodded slowly, “Uh huh… it was just a little spill-- not a huge deal. And I got distracted by the book because it was on the shelf next to me. Mhm!” Nailed it. Before she could say anything else that could make things weird, Skyar nodded and sat down on the couch, taking her spot once more. As the two of them asked her if there was something wrong, she frowned at them. What was going on? Was it that obvious that she wasn’t feeling her best? Glancing down at her hands, she saw that a thin film of slime had developed on her palms, but she did her best to hide that by folding her arms across her stomach. “I’m fine, really. Just a little tired, but that’s nothing super uncommon. Um… Are we still going to watch?” She asked, gesturing to the anime boys that were running around on her tv screen. The sooner they just dropped the question, the better. She didn’t want them asking her questions she couldn’t really answer.

Orion wasn’t convinced that Skylar was alright like she claimed, but it was hardly Orion’s business. There must have been some reason why she was trying to convince them that she was fine. Maybe she was just tired. Orion shrugged towards Winston as if to say, I hope she’s fine. Then at least, Skylar offered to continue watching the show. Things couldn’t be too messed up if they were going to be jumping back into the tv show, right? Orion let out a sigh of relief, falling back into the chair and trying to force himself to relax. Everything was going to be fine. Orion was going to befriend both of them despite the awkwardness of tonight. He needed some friends like this. “Yeah we should jump right back in. Sorry for holding things up.” He welcomed anything to change the subject from their obvious lies and hopefully give some room for the three to forget everything and bond over anime like they had been doing before.

Winston knew that they were all aware that there wasn’t something quite right here. But apparently all of them were way too awkward to confront it. Winston’s tenous grasp over their magic was not something that they wanted to test now. So they sat there, and watched several more hours of this anime. In doing so, they had to admit that they really came to enjoy Orion’s company, despite the weird situation that was hanging over them. When it eventually got to the later hours of the night, Winston realised that they had work in the morning. Stiffling a yawn at the end of their current episode, they forced themselves from the couch. “Look, guys, I’ve got to go home,” they said as they pulled their glasses off an rubbed their eyes, “I’ve got to be at work in a few hours and I need to get some sleep, but … yeah I had a great time.”

The next few hours of anime passed Skylar by in a slightly listless haze. She was aware of what was going on, but the tiredness was getting to her in a way that her normal methods of just weren’t handling. But, she did her best to seem as engaged as possible. She laughed when the other two did, she nodded along to the opening music, she tried to just be normal. When what she was going through was anything but. And, to top it all off, there was the matter of Rio… poking around in her room. As Winston stood up to walk out the door, Skylar nodded. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it’d gotten that late. Thanks so much for coming by.” She said, walking them to the door. Fingers twitching at her side nervously, she glanced back at the couch. Mmmmmm. She really had to know why he’d been in her room and this was as good of an opportunity as she was going to get. Speaking as casually as she could, Skylar asked, “Since they have to get to work tomorrow, Rio… do you mind helping me clean up a little?”

Orion was able to settle down enough to enjoy the anime for a few hours. He usually used anime when he was stressed out as a distraction. It got his mind off of reality and gave him some time to unwind and relax. That actually seemed to be working, despite the awkwardness of the night. After a while, Winston mentioned it getting late and began to pack their things. Orion hadn’t even noticed all the time that had passed. “It was super nice meeting you. I’m glad we got a chance to do this.” He smiled at Winston, nervously fumbling with the rings he had stolen from his sister. His little ploy had been so stupid. He should have just come for the anime night and left it at that. “Oh yeah of course. I’d love to help.” Orion agreed nervously.

Yawning, Winston collected the remainder of the snacks that they had brought with them, stuffing them into a rucksack and pulling their jacket on. Rubbing a finger behind the lense of their glasses, they nodded and smiled at Orion. Despite all of the weirdness earlier, Orion seemed cool. “Hey, dude, you too, we should definitely make sure that we do this stuff again, maybe on a weekend or when I’m not working.” With that they double checked that they had the last of their belongings and headed out into the night.

Skylar smiled as Winston said their goodbyes and shut the door behind them. Just the effort of getting up and going to the door was draining, but she hid it as well as she could. She had no idea why she was feeling so awful. She'd been trying her best to take care of herself, reading the self-help books, and doing whatever she could to ease some of the stress that had been thrust upon her. This was part of why she'd wanted to have anime night-- it was meant to be something fun and normal and cool, but her body was just... ruining it for her. Letting out a sigh, she did her best to offer a genuine smile as she turned around to face Rio. "Thanks again for offering to help clean up, I really appreciate it." She said with a nod, putting a chip clip on one of the open bags. "Um... did you have a good time?"

Winston left for the night which just left Orion and Skylar alone in her place. Despite a few hiccups, Orion had enjoyed himself and hoped that the other two had as well. He was in the kitchen, throwing out the cans and bottles from the night and trying to organize the array of snacks that they had brought over. Orion couldn’t help but wonder what was on Skylar’s mind. His fingers drummed against the countertop nervously. “Hey, yeah of course it’s my pleasure.” He answered suddenly, realizing that he had spaced out for a moment. “I had a great time! It was really cool to have people to talk to about the shows I like to watch. Thanks again for inviting me over.” Were they going to talk about the bedroom incident? He didn’t want to, but he was afraid things would be worse if they didn’t. What would Orion even say? What excuse did he have, really? Aside from the truth, which was completely out of the question.

Skylar blinked at Rio's answer, a little confused by his body language. He'd been a little antsy all night, but there was something else about him. Why was he being so... odd? He almost seemed like he wasn't fully present, if that made any sense. But... she couldn't really judge. She hadn't been feeling like herself in a long time. "I'm glad that you had fun. I'm really hoping to make this a more regular thing." She said with a nod. But... she still wasn't a hundred percent sure how she felt about Rio. There was just something... off. Grimacing, she stared at the stovetop of the kitchen before turning around to face Rio. Looking him directly in the eyes, Skylar spoke up, "Um. Do you mind if I ask you something?" She could feel the sweat trickling down the side of her face; or, at least, she hoped it was just sweat. Either way, she really just wanted to ask him and get it over with. "Why were you snooping around in my room?"

Skylar did not look great, but Orion wasn’t sure that it was his place to make a comment on it. She had been lethargic the entire night and had looked a bit out of it, but Orion had hoped it was just exhaustion. But now, standing up with her in the kitchen instead of glancing from a chair, he could see that it was more than just Skylar being tired. It didn’t help that tension sunk between the two, both thinking about the same incident without either saying anything about it. But then finally, Skylar asked the question. What had Orion been doing in her room? All night, he had convinced himself that it was justifiable. That he had a good reason for doing what he had. But was it truly necessary? He was so stupid. “I- uh wasn’t snooping.” He began, but it didn’t feel right coming off his lips. They tasted bitter, “Sorry that’s not right- I didn’t mean to snoop.” That was closer to the truth. Sure, he had walked into that room on purpose, but he had never wanted to do it in the first place. “I walked in and I should have left immediately but I-“ He couldn’t explain to her the truth, not without explaining his family to her. “I saw the skin.” He finally settled on. That was what this entire night had boiled down to and it was a conversation the two would have to have eventually. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. “I didn’t know what it was at first, so I went in because I wanted to know what it was.” He shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see her facial reaction just yet. “Which was wrong. And I shouldn’t have done that and I’m really sorry.”

The tiredness Skylar had felt all night had sunk into her bones as she listened to Rio. Folding her arms across her chest, her fingers gripped at the sides of her shirt, as though she could just physically hold herself together. If she could just keep it together, she would be okay. But, the second he mentioned skin... Her blood ran cold. What? He'd seen her skin, had he gone in there purposefully? But, it was still there, it was still there. Wait. Her eyes widened as she realized that he'd said skin, not pelt. Not something that... a normal person who saw a seal pelt would say. "You... you went into my room, and you saw my skin. And you don't think that's snooping?" Her voice shaking with both anger and fear. What was he going to do now? Why did he know. "How, how do you know what it is? Rio, why were you looking for things in my room? Why... why are you here?"

This wasn’t going well. Understandably, Skylar didn’t seem to take the news that Orion found the skin very well. “No, no. You’re right I’m sorry. It was snooping. But.. I didn’t want to snoop. ” Orion couldn’t seem to find the right words to say. Were there any right words to say? “Listen, there are some bad people in this town.” How did he tell her the truth without telling her the truth? “They want to hurt people that are… different.” His mouth was dry, but his palms were sweating and he wiped them against his jeans. He didn’t feel like he could make eye contact. He may start crying on the spot. God, that would be embarrassing. “I’m here for the anime night! I swear. But while I was here… I needed to know. So I could make sure you were safe. I- I don’t care that you’re a Selkie. I just don’t want others to find out and hurt you.”

Skylar shook her head slowly from side to side, as though that would make any of this situation less real. No, no, no. She'd been so careless, so stupid. She'd sent back the safe to Ricky and now she only had herself to blame for this. If she'd just kept the safe, then Rio would have never known that she was a Selkie. "Why did you need to know? Why couldn't you have asked me? If-- if you'd asked me, if you'd said that you were trying to help me, I would have told you." She said, trembling. "Who are these people? How do you know about them, and who-- who are they? If you're trying to help me, I need to know. I deserve to know if someone tries to hurt me for being something-- something I don't even want to be!" Her voice broke and tears began to streak down her face as she stared at Rio, still trying to comprehend what he had told her.

“I couldn’t just ask.” Orion whined, not proud of the emotion slipping into his voice. He hated crying. He definitely didn’t cry in front of people. “I didn’t- I couldn’t know if you were going to tell the truth. It’s why I wore these stupid rings.” He held his hand up as evidence. “There are hunters!” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the whole truth. Knowing about his family would only put her in more danger. Not to mention himself. If he were to over tell them the truth about him then… well that might be his family’s final straw. “I’ve seen the awful things they can do and when we became friends I just- I just wanted to keep you safe.” But then Skylar broke Orion’s heart. She hated being a Selkie? All she was trying to do was live her life. Orion was the one that should hate what he was. He did hate what he was. “Skylar… There is nothing wrong with wha- with who you are. You deserve better than that.” Dang it. He wiped at his eyes with his forearm. This was definitely the worst.

Blinking through the tears, Skylar sucked in a deep breath and attempted to calm herself down. But, the more Rio kept talking, the more questions came to mind. What was he talking about? Hunters? His rings? What did he mean by this? What did any of this mean? "Are you a hunter? What are the rings, what are they?" She asked, trying to work through the thoughts racing through her mind. There was just so much that she couldn't even begin to understand with what he'd just said. "I--" She held up her hand, signing for him to stop. She didn't need someone who had just... outed her to try and reassure about what she was as a person. "Don't. Don't tell me that, I don't want to hear that. What I need to know," Skylar took in another shaky breath, "Is are they going to attack me? Are you going to hurt me?"

The words hurt Orion. They weren’t even accusatory, more questioning than anything. But it didn’t make the question hurt any less. Was he a hunter? “No. God no. I’m not a hunter.” That wasn’t a lie. Genetically, maybe he was but he would never become his family. He refused to accept that title as one of his own no matter what his family tried to force upon him. “I don’t- It doesn’t sound good. But I want to be honest here. The rings are silver and iron. It’s a way to test if a person is a werewolf or Fae.” He wanted to try to explain more to her, to try to make her understand or at the very least make her less afraid. But he had ruined it. He stopped talking immediately after she signed at him, freezing in his tracks. “Ok. I’m sorry.” He held his hands up in surrender and crossed them back over his chest. “No! No! No. I would never hurt you. Or anybody. I don’t want anybody to get hurt. Nobody is going to hurt you.” He was going to make sure of that. Whether Skylar could forgive him or not. Whether she ever spoke to him again. She would make sure that his sister stayed away from her.

Swallowing through the lump that had formed in the back of her throat, Skylar nodded. Okay. He wasn’t a hunter. But he knew about this? He knew about werewolves and fae and how to tell what they were? He knew about Selkies? How could he… Rubbing her fingers together, she shook her head again before unhooking her hearing aids from her ears, shoving them into the pockets of her jeans. She didn’t want to hear any more of this, she really didn’t. She couldn’t handle finding out about all of this. Focusing on reading his lips to compensate for her lack of hearing, Skylar’s hands clenched at her sides. “How do you know that no one is going to hurt me? I need you to leave. Right now. I can’t deal with this right now.” Skylar signed, pointing at the door.

Maybe Orion had still kept some hope alive. Maybe, despite the tears and the anger and the fear, Orion still wondered if a friendship was salvageable. Maybe, just maybe, Orion had deluded himself to believe that he did deserve friendship. But Skylar took out her hearing aids, and Orion knew that the conversation was over. The door had closed and Orion was locked out. At least the one benefit was that Skylar probably couldn’t hear his sniffling any longer. At least she was safe, and Orion knew that Athena’s initial tests wouldn’t show anything.”Yeah, of course. I get it.” He signed back at Skylar. He thought about leaving the bag of snacks on the counter for Skylar, but remembered that her diet wouldn’t exactly allow for that. So he grabbed onto the bag and made his way towards the door. He held onto the knob for a long moment before turning around to sign at her again. “Thanks for inviting me. I’m really sorry. Again.” Then he was gone.

#p: twol #p: winston dane #p: orion quinn #chronic illness cw

9 notes · View notes