#unable to just pick up where they left off and return to 'normal' like nah

[mercymaker]

got the most diabolical idea while thinking of some dialogue and like

yeah, mal being long-buried is all fun and games and creates a lot of delicious situations for those who were close to her but

i'd be lying if i said that the idea of bringing her back wasn't floating around in my head and then..

would it be cool or what if i did find a way to bring her back into the story but then immediately derailed the malstarion hype train by breaking them up or?

[tiniestkit]

cowboy thighs!

ft. ranch hand/cowboy southern steve! modern au

inspired by @cowboythighs , a tiktok, and the doubt around riding as an intense sport. originally posted on tw*tter but i figured i’d share it here too.

they’re lounging in robin’s apartment when the challenge is issued. steve rests in the arm chair, fully stretched out between the seat and the ottoman with robin between his legs. her arms are draped over his thighs and her head rests on the pillow in his lap.

eddie had left twenty minutes earlier to go pick up their pizzas, and while steve normally loves taking rides with eddie, he’s had an achingly long day at the ranch and once he sat down, he knew he wasn’t getting up.

“if he don’t hurry the fuck up, i’m gonna -“

“you’re gonna what, steve? last i checked you were, and i quote, ‘one with the chair.’” robin tipped her head back to look at steve, and he pouted grumpily at her.

a few seconds pass and the tell tale rumble of eddie’s van signals his return home, and with his return comes food.

“yes!” robin whispers, pumping her fist in excitement. she goes to get up, but finds herself unable to move because steve has tightened his legs around her just slightly.

“steve, let. go.” she says lowly.

“nah,” steve replies tightening his grip just a little more.

eddie walks through the door, pizza boxes balanced precariously in one hand while the other jiggles his keys out of the lock.

he closes the door before he turns to look at where the pair are sitting.

“piz- what the fuck is going on?” his nose scrunches up in question as he watches steve casually scroll on his phone while robin starts thrashing around between his legs.

she tries to shove his legs away from around her, struggling, and steve is just completely unphased. barely effected by robin’s movement.

“he won’t let me out because i made fun of him,” robin whines, lifting her knees to try to shoot herself out of his grip.

“why can’t you just push him off?” eddie asks, tone incredulous.

“don’t you think that if i could, i would have by now?” she asks, exasperated.

“you that weak, buck wheat?” eddie chuckles, slightly condescendingly, and robin growls.

“yeah, buckles, get it together.” steve teases.

“he’s just stupid strong, debbie.”

“yeah, sure he is. he looks bored, rob.” eddie scoffs, putting the pizzas down on the coffee table.

“i ain’t bored,” steve quips, “this just ain’t that hard.” he goes back to scrolling, and robin returns to struggling. she’s panting and red faced within a few minutes, and eddie is wondering if steve is that strong or if robin just isn’t.

“you can’t be serious, robin. just push him off!”

“oh, like you could get them open mr. ‘i get winded going up the stairs,’ actually fuck off.” robin gripes angrily.

“i’ll have you know that i get them open regularly, robin.” eddie waggles his eyebrows and grins wickedly as robin gags.

“darlin’, you get them open only cause you ask so pretty,” steve drawls.

eddie walks over and steve lifts his head to kiss him.

“but now you ain’t gettin’ it until you can get ‘em open,” steve deadpans. eddie’s mouth drops in shock.

“WHAT?! that isn’t fair!” eddie whines, and robin cackles as steve releases her. she dives for the pizza on the table.

eddie stands with his hands on his hips while steve bends his legs and plants his feet on the ottoman. he’s smirking up at eddie, the kinds that shows he knows he’s already won.

eddie frowns, then his lips split into a cocky grin and his eyebrows dip in determination.

“oh i’m getting them open,” he claps his hands and rubs his palms together rapidly, “i promise you that. easy peasy.”

“you keep telling yourself that, ed. welcome to your dry spell,” robin laughs, lifting her slice of pizza toward her mouth.

“shut up, bucket, i’ve got this.” eddie wraps his hands over steve’s knees, palms flat against the outside with his fingers spread across his knee caps to curl toward the inside. he leans down so his chin hovers just above his hands.

“baby, if you can get ‘em open, you can ‘ave what’s in between ‘em,” steve promises.

his accent swoops under his words, almost weaving them together.

“promise?” eddie says gruffly.

“promise.” steve sits up to kiss him quickly before he lays back and puts his hands behind his head.

“you cocky fuck,” eddie mutters under his breath as he looks down.

he inhales deeply before he starts pulling.

and steve’s knees barely budge. eddie takes another breath and pulls again, voice constricted in his throat as he groans. he splutters, pausing to readjust his grip before he pulls again.

his cheeks puff out as he goes again, arms shaking. he looks up at to peer at steve’s face, and he stalls when he sees that his eyes are closed.

like he’s relaxed.

like eddie isn’t using all his strength at the moment.

like he’s not even trying.

“how’s it going over there, debra?” robin teases snidely, laughing at the noises of force eddie’s making.

“shut up, bucket,” eddie grits out, changing his hands’ positions again.

“i told you; he’s stupid strong.”

steve chuckles, lifting his head to look at eddie.

“don’t feel bad, darlin’,” steve encourages, “i’m mighty impressed you got them to budge….kinda.”

“stevie, what the actual fuck?” eddie asks, breathing heavily. he lets his hands fall from steve’s knees and up the outside of his thighs, scratching lightly through the hair.

“baby, i spend all day, every day sitting in a saddle,” steve says.

eddie interrupts, “i know that. that wouldn’t make you this strong! you’re sitting! not moving!”

steve looks shocked.

“you’re jokin’, right?”

“no!” eddie squeals.

“honey, do you have any idea how much work it is to ride? to control a horse?” eddie shrugs. “i spend all day squeezing to stay on. we ride on all kinds of terrain, up and down mountains and hills. and that’s on tame days.”

steve sits up, legs still together.

“some days all i do is break the green ones, and those colts buck harder than bulls,” steve laughs to himself.

“i just can’t believe that makes you this fucking strong,” eddie grumbles, squeezing at steve’s thighs, “but holy shit is it hot.”

robin groans in distaste.

“you guys promised you wouldn’t flirt in front of me. i already went through so long of you two pining for each other, no MORE!”

“yeah yeah yeah,” they mutter.

they separate and reach for their pizzas.

the three of them eat, ignoring the TV for the sake of conversation. steve tells them about the calf he tracked down that afternoon.

eddie winges about the kid he had for guitar lessons that morning and robin just laughs at their pain because she had the day off.

after eating, they settle down to watch their chosen movie. eddie comes back from the kitchen to find steve laying on the couch on his back with his knees up.

he pats steve’s thigh with the palm of his hand, and steve smiles up at him as he makes room for eddie to lay between them on his stomach.

as he settles with his head pillowed on steve’s chest, he laughs to himself quietly.

“hey cowboy thighs,” he says teasingly, “i got ‘em open.”

robins jaw drops.

“looks like ya did, darlin’.”

fin.

[timextoxhajima]

Not For Sale: Week 14

NOT FOR SALE CHAPTER NAVIGATION

Member: Heeseung + Jay [ft. Sunghoon and Jake]

Pairings: [fem] uni exchange student! reader x uni student! HS x uni student! Jay

Genres: Fluff | Slice of Life | Comedy | Angst | Teenage Romance | Thriller

Warnings: scenes in the hospital

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis/Quote: In which your oblivious ass cannot tell that a popular boy in your class has a big, fat crush on you | “It seems like the one who was ruined was me.”

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @seasideheeseung @wooya1224 @gratefulmaria @sunshineshouchan @youreverydayzebra @fayqj @witheeseung @haechanhues @w-o-o-y-a-a @miingxuxi @reallysmolrenjun @hrrhmay-primaryblog @rosie112703 @ac-ewow @liliansun​​ [drop me a dm/ask/comment to be added!]

You’re staring at the project document blankly, the pages filled with words and tables of the work you’ve done with Heeseung in the last few weeks or so. The weekend felt like three weeks, even when it was just three days - simply because you were in the hospital watching Jay flit in and out of consciousness and Heeseung’s still in a comatose state. 

The seat next to you is empty and there is no other word to describe being alone on your last week of school than ‘sad’. 

The Uber that picked Jay and Heeseung up had just been in school compounds and the police had found a rig in the brakes - the Uber had been stopped by another car driving straight into it.

Heeseung was on the side the car was rammed into. It’s a miracle he’s even still alive. 

“y/n?” 

The call jolts you out of your dissociation.

“Hey,” The professor walks up the stairs, and only now do you realise everybody else had left the lecture hall besides you. “I had the others hand up their projects but I saw you zoning out and I couldn’t do it.”

“Sorry,” Mumbling under your breath, you give the folder a quick flip-through before handing him the document. “Here.”

With pursed lips, he takes the folder and glances through it, skimming through the contents and pausing on the last page where you and Heeseung had signed off on. 

“I’m sorry it happened.”

“I’m sorry the school had to go through so much to catch the idiot,” Through gritted teeth, you offer him a small wince. 

“Well, yeah, that too,” The professor pulls up the lecture table from the seat next to you and sits himself in the plastic grove. “But it’s not important now. He’s going to be charged for God knows how many felonies, but I just- I wanted to know how you’re holding up.”

The concerned question thrums chills through you. Heeseung would’ve asked that. Jay would’ve too.

Jake and Sunghoon have probably tried, but you’re too busy crying or zoning out at the hospital to process anything else even if they did try. 

“I’m fine,” You shake your head and stuff your iPad into your bag. “There’s nothing anybody can do to make him wake up faster.”

“I know that. It’s just... I don’t want a student ending her semester like this.”

The grumble of the zip as you close your bag is disgustingly loud in the empty lecture hall. You hug your bag, slowly looping your arm through one of the holes as you push the lecture table away. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m leaving next week anyway and Heeseung’s not dead, so.”

The professor goes quiet upon the declaration. 

“Thanks for the fun sem, Prof,” You give him a tiny, wretched smile that’s not genuine at all, lifting a leg over the backrest of the seat in front of you. “I’ll tell my dad to say hi to you every now and then.”

Finally on both your feet one row before him, he looks at you with sad, tired eyes. 

“It’s been a pleasure having you and Heeseung as students, y/n. Do come back to visit when you come visit your father.”

A bare nod shakes your head.

“Bye prof.”

The ceiling looks the same. The light dangling from the beige, crusty roof looks dusty.

The room looks the same - except the fact that 80% of it were in boxes now. The clock hung on the wall has the loudest ticking you’ve ever heard - had it been this loud since the start?

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzt. Bzzz-

“Hello.”

“Jesus Christ, how many times do you want me to call you before you’d pick up?”

Maybe until Heeseung wakes up.

“You know what? Don’t answer that.”

A pause.

“How are you holding up?”

“Great. I mean the sem’s over. I’ve handed up almost every project I need to submit.”

“Fuck you, you know I don’t mean that.”

“What am I supposed to tell you? I’m great, while I wait for my two friends to recover in the hospital? One of them’s not even awake.”

“I don’t want to be that person but no matter how much you cry or pray that he wakes up, it’s going to take time, okay? Let him rest and recuperate and he’ll spring back to life like he wasn’t just in an accident.”

“I shouldn’t have let them take the Uber.”

“For crying out loud, it is not your fault. You told them your dad was coming to get you and Jay didn’t want to cancel it for the fee. It’s a normal reaction. Who was supposed to know the Uber was rigged?”

You blink. 

“Have you packed?”

You count the boxes in your room. “Mostly.”

“I’ll be at your place when you come home. We can bake cupcakes and cookies and you can tell me about the school there.”

Your ears are taking in her words but your eyes are on the paper bag on your desk. It’s the tumbler that Jay got you. 

“Hello? You there?”

“Byeol, what if they don’t wake up before I leave? I have 8 days.”

“Have some faith in them, would you? Jay’s already awake right? He’s just flitting in and out of consciousness and Heeseung... They haven’t said he’s in critical condition, right?”

“But he’s been in the ER and it’s been three days.”

“Sis, I could sleep for three days. He’ll be awake before you leave.”

“Hope so.”

“Not going to the hospital?”

“Nah,” You roll over onto your side and stare at yourself in the mirror on your wardrobe doors. “Their friends are swarming the wards. It’s fine, Jake and Hoon got me onto the special visitors’ list.”

“There’s a special visitors’ list?”

“It’s Jay and it’s an expensive hospital with classier management. So yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s nice.”

Silence - except the occasional crackling of the static on the phone. 

“They’ll do fine, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I have to go now. I’ll call you tonight or tomorrow, I’ll text you?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye bye.”

The car ride with your father is quiet, the gentle music from the stereo playing and you’re thinking about how your mother is back at home. She is a busy woman back home too so you hadn’t really had the time to call or text her.

For the first time in a long time, your father knows more about your life than she does. 

“I know you’re probably not in the mood to answer this but...” The car slows at a red light. “Have you started packing?”

You don’t turn. The trees outside are swaying gently in the light breeze on this sunny day. It reminds you of the day Heeseung brought you out to the beach for your picnic. 

“I’m about 80% done. The stuff left’s like my laptop and iPad and daily appliances.”

“That’s good,” You see him nod in the window’s reflection and glance at you. “Well, I’ll come by and hand you the documents for credit transfer later this week and I’ll send you to the bus terminal next Wednesday too, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Humming to yourself, the refracted red light turns green. “Sure.”

The car starts again. “Hun, I... I just wanted you to know that I know this sem has been difficult for you. I’m- I’m sorry that I suggested you come. Had I known that there was going to be a lunatic running on the loose, I would’ve stopped you from coming.”

“You wouldn’t have known,” You mumble, but still loud enough for him to hear. “It’s fine, it’s over.”

“And with what happened with Jay and Heeseung... I’m sorry. I really am.”

“They would’ve gotten caught up in this crazy shitfest with the psycho anyway, regardless of my presence,” Finally turning to look at your father, he side-eyes you while keeping his hands on the steering wheel. “It’s not anybody’s fault except that psycho’s that this happened.”

Your father remains quiet, unable to respond. The car drives into the sheltered drop-off point at the hospital and he watches you unbuckle the seat belt to let yourself out the car.

“Hey.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and rest a hand on the car door. 

“They’ll be okay.”

A weak smile pulls your lips up your cheeks. 

“I hope so.”

By the time you’ve reached the floor where the wads were, you’ve run into a good number of their friends. Of course, there were one or two bad apples among the bunch, but most of them knew you were on a special visitors’ list and that’s why you came so late. 

It never gets easier though, the look on their faces when you know they want to tell you that they’ll be okay, but promises should not be made if they cannot be kept.

Walking into Jay’s ward, you see his mother helping to sponge his face while Jake and Sunghoon speak to a friend on the other side of the bed. 

You catch the room’s attention when you pull the plastic bag out from your bag and let the door shut behind you, Jay’s mother looking up and offering you a tired smile. 

“Oh, hey,” Jake grins and beckons you over. 

“Hi Mrs Park,” You gesture to Jake to wait before holding out the plastic bag to Jay’s mother. “It’s a box of tonic for you and Mr Park. Thought of getting fruits but I don’t think Jay can have them yet.”

“Gosh, you really didn’t have to,” She shakes her head and sets the cloth down by the bed. “Thank you. Are you sure you’re okay, coming to visit so often? You’re here everyday, aren’t you?”

You return her a tight, pursed smile. “Yeah, but it’s fine. I’m leaving to go home next week so I don’t have much time left to spend with them. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, honey,” She stands and takes the box from you, turning to set it down on the table behind her before returning you her attention. “I... I don’t know what to say. This must be all a lot for you.”

You break the eye contact first, knowing that you were probably going to cry if you hadn’t stopped looking at her.

“No, it’s fine,” You raise a palm and rub her upper arm. “All I want is to have a decent conversation with Jay before I leave, and I’ll be more than satisfied.”

“Oh!” She exclaims, nose crunching into a threatened crying mess. She holds her arms open and coerces you into her arms, patting the back of your head. “Of course. Of course, Jay will be fine by the time you need to go home. I promise.”

“I really do hope so,” You pull away first and smile weakly at her.

“By the way, Mr and Mrs Lee are with Heeseung in the ward next door,” She sniffles, anxiously rubbing her palms together.

“Oh, right- Do they know I’m on the-”

“Yes, of course they do, sweet heart,” She quickly rubs your arm to comfort you, then slides her hands down to yours to keep them in her palms. “Their parents are the sweetest couple ever and they’d be so grateful that Heeseung has a friend like you. How about I have Jake or Sunghoon bring you over to meet them?”

“Oh,” You watch as she waves to get one of the boys’ attention, Sunghoon quickly pulling away from the crowd to attend to you. 

“Would you do me a favour and bring her over to Heeseung’s ward? Introduce her to his parents.”

“Of course,” Sunghoon hurriedly nods and lowers his head out of respect. “Come on.”

“Thanks, Mrs Park,” You turn your feet to follow Sunghoon, but your hands are reluctant to leave hers. “I’ll come back later.”

“No, take your time, sweet.”

With a slight nod, you pull away and trail after Sunghoon out of the ward after leaving your bag with Jake.

The ward door closes with a soft hiss, then Sunghoon pauses right before you can come into view of Heeseung’s ward door, turning over his shoulder to look down at you. 

“I don’t mean to bring this up at a bad time but...”

“I know,” You nod. “I know I’ve been an ass the last few weeks. Honestly, I... I didn’t know who I wanted to be endgame either.”

Sunghoon gives your word one more second of thought before he turns around to face you. 

“It’s not my business but are you going to choose? Or... just go home next week?”

You frown and look down at your hands, reminiscing the warmth from Jay’s mother.

“I don’t know,” Your voice cracks. “I don’t think I can choose. Even if I do, I have 8 days, and neither of them are awake yet. I don’t... I don’t want to do that to them.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It’s Heeseung. Choose Heeseung,” He says without looking at you. “The night they got into a crash, Jay texted Jake to tell us that Heeseung kissed you, and that was the moment he decided he would give up.”

The statement tears you apart on the inside. 

“Jay’s a tough guy to hurt and he plays his cards fairly and maturely,” Sunghoon nods and finally looks at you. “Don’t feel bad you’re choosing Heeseung over him. He had a truce with Heeseung. About you. And he knows he lost fair and square, so don’t feel upset. Just pour your heart and soul into Heeseung for the rest of the time you’re here, and worry about committing anything else after you’ve gone home.”

You part your lips to breathe, as if it would help you understand any faster or better.

“Anyway, both Heeseung’s parents are in there and they already have an idea who you are so... Just be nice.”

He watches you nod, slightly zoned-out, then pushes the door open. 

His parents can tell you’re more preoccupied with the limp, breathing body on the bed than their presence, but they still take it with grace and greet you like they’ve known you your entire life.

The sight of Heeseung being bandaged up with a leg hanging in the air makes you feel like shit.

Who wouldn’t?

Later in the night, after Heeseung’s mother had gone home and his father had left to get coffee, you’re left alone with him and the occasional beeping from the Holter monitor. 

There was a bruise and scratch on his left cheek, and his neck, arms and right leg were in a cast. You think about how much he was going to miss dancing when he gets told he’ll need to be on a 6-month break from anything strenuous. 

Tired, you pull your earpieces out and plug it into your phone, laying it on the bed while you hover over him to fit the earbuds into his ears. Then you sit back down and scroll through your playlist, playing with the volume buttons to make sure it was softer than the volume you’d normally listen to your music at. 

You make your selection, then quietly lay on the mattress with the faint music drizzling the atmosphere’s noise. That’s how quiet the room was. 

His fingers were sticking out of his cast, so you play with them. His hair was in his shut eyes, so you gently push them out in case he were to open them. 

“One more time, Heeseung. Just one more time before I leave.”

Jay’s mother was sleeping by his bed when you walk in to check on them, bag hanging from your right shoulder and lids heavy from the terrible sleep schedule the past few days. 

“Hi.”

And a smile stretches your lips out when you can see him blink, offer you his bright grin, apart from the cut on his eyebrow.

“Hey,” You whisper, walking towards him on the other side of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Jay clears his throat and blinks. “Had better days, but at least I’m alive.”

A snigger threatens to wake his mother up. “Good. Do you want me to wake your mom up? Maybe get a doctor in to give you a check up or something.”

He shakes his head, even managing a small wave in his fingers laying by his hip. “No, I’m good. I’m going back to sleep soon anyway.”

You lean over and adjust his pillow. “Well, then I shan’t disturb you. I’ll come by again tomorrow.”

“Sure,” He looks up at you and nods. Your gazes meet, for a split second, he can kind of know what you’re thinking of, and you know what he was. 

“Thank you for this sem, Jay. I really am.”

He shakes his head. “No, thank you. It was a fun sem because of you.”

“You call being in a hospital ward fun?”

Chuckling, he turns back to look at the ceiling for a second. “You will come back to visit us, won’t you? Zoom call us or something.”

“Of course. We could meet up during the summer break if anything.”

Satisfied, he nods again. “Good.”

“Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow,” You shove your hands into your pockets. 

“Okay,” He quietly responds, watching you turn on your heels. “Oh, y/n.”

You turn and raise a brow.

“Heeseung. He’s the one for you, and... he’ll wake up for you. I know he will.”

With a slightly ached grin, you nod and look down at your feet. 

“Bye Jay.”

“Bye.”

[weirdochick56]

Sin- Steve Rogers AU Chapter Three

Biker!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, set in a universe where Pietro isn’t Wanda’s twin, but her older brother!!!

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU plots/characters mentioned. 

Word Count: 3, 379 Words

Summary: Y/n finally comes face to face with Biker King and it’s nothing like she imagined. And when she least expects it, the very person she came looking for will find her and all the emotions she has been holding in will come pouring out in unexpected ways.

Read Chapter Two Here!!

*

Under different circumstances, maybe you would’ve stayed there, in his hold a little while longer. It wasn’t like it was an unpleasant feeling...not in the least. 

His hot hands and cool rings contrasted eachother deliciously on your skin and it had actually taken you a while to pull yourself out of your dazed trance, between getting the air knocked out of you and now....

“Oh.” 

You didn’t mean to yelp the way you did when your gaze met those of the blonde Adonis that stood before you, but you couldn’t help it. Those eyes...if you had thought they were pretty before, now you could say with absolute certainty that they were utterly showstopping. 

Salacious, intense, powerful...you’d never wanted to drown in a person’s gaze more. 

He had the kind of eyes you don’t just get lost in, but entirely lose yourself to. The kind that if you stare into too long, you might be swallowed like quicksand. And yet, even knowing this, you couldn’t pull yourself away and had found yourself for the second time in only a short span of time, unable to breathe correctly. 

His gaze was steady on yours as well, though unlike you he wasn’t shaken in the least. He was all cool and collected, his eyes searching yours out shamelessly. 

And so you stay like that for a few moments, his big hands pressed onto your mostly bare back and your hands gripping his forearms tightly, steadying- anchoring yourself. Though nothing about the piercing power of that gaze was anchoring or even real to you. 

Gradually, your heart begins picking up an erratic pace which only spikes when his fingers begin tracing softly over your skin. 

The shivers this sends down your spine feels like a slap to the face and you find yourself almost aggressively pushing yourself away from him. He hesitates a bit, but it’s only a split second before his hands are unclasped and off your skin. 

Breaking away seems to break the trance-like state you were in and instantly, the embarassment sets in, your cheeks heating up immediately. You bow your head refelctively. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out of pure shame. Not because of him, but because of yourself.  

Why were you acting like this? 

I mean, you weren’t normally one to fall for a pretty face because you had grown up around rich pretty boys your whole life.

But he...

You take a cautious peek at him again and instantly regret doing so when you realize the fact that his eyes had seemingly never left you and were now practically glowing with amusement as he watched you closely.

Your breath hitches and you bite your lip, a nervous habit of yours. His eyes momentarily flick down to the action but they quickly return back up to your gaze. 

Your eyes are everywhere at once, your breathing labored. ‘He’s too close’, you think to yourself amidst the chaos in your brain. 

And he’s too goddam perfect. 

He’s all sharp jaw, high cheekbones, silky, messy blonde hair, pink plump lips and piercing blue eyes...every slope and curve and straight edge of his face was all too perfectly harmonious with one another. To say you were in complete awe at the Adonis before you would be an understatement. 

You couldn’t breathe. 

His plump lips are so pink and full and they’re only highlighted more by his dark neatly kept beard, you have to blink several times to make sure you’re not imagining them. How can a man have such pretty lips? 

You had never seen someone this alluring in your life, he wasn’t at all like the pretty rich boys of your town. 

He had a naturally intimidating aura to him, in that rough-around-the-edges badass biker way that you shouldn’t be finding this damn attractive. 

And then you take a moment to take in his full form. You were right; he was easily a whole foot taller than you, sporting more tattoos than you could count on his visible skin- that was, his collarbone and hands, some of the ones up his arm poking out when he moved. 

Unlike most people here who wore kuttes, he was wearing a thick leather jacket with the word, ‘President’ patched in bold black and white on it, but you knew he had his arms fully tatted because you’d seen it that day at the store.

 He also wore black worn jeans that clung sexily on his slim hips, chains hanging over the jean hoops and clanging everytime he moved. He clearly loved his black combat boots because it was visibly obvious he used them a whole lot. 

His sexy mouth lifts at the corner into an even sexier smirk and you all but come undone when he speaks again. “It’s okay, angel.” 

‘Doll’, ‘angel’...

Your brow furrows and before you know what you’re doing...

“Are you in the habit of giving girls you’ve never met pet names, sir?”  You blurt without thinking. 

The unintentionally sassy words fly out of your mouth before your brain can even catch up, but when it does, your eyes instantly widen and your hand flies to your mouth, clasping over it in complete horror. 

You want to die when the excessive attitude in your words sinks in and suddenly you’re all too aware of just how much bigger and intimidating this man was compared to you. 

He could snap you, and most grown men, in half without a second thought. 

You open your mouth to apologize profusely thinking you’ve offended this (most likely) dangerous outlaw, but you freeze once you see his expression. 

He doesn’t seem angry at all, in fact, he’s...laughing? No, it’s not a full-on laugh like the one you’d seen in that parking lot. It’s more airy, more casual. 

He was chuckling. At you. 

He speaks again, this time amusedly. “Nah, only the pretty ones.” 

You’re caught off-guard by the suave of his words and you find yourself profusely blushing once more. You have no idea how to respond to him so instead, you just shake your head, desperate to escape this increasingly flustering situation.

“Okay. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” you offer him a forced polite smile and go to side-step him. 

You barely make it two steps before his hand is flying out, gripping your wrist firmly and tugging you backwards. A little gasp flies out of your mouth at the suddeness of the movement and before you understand what’s happening, you find yourself pressed tightly against a wall, shrouded in darkness. 

You turn your wide eyes onto Biker King, whose thick arms are now pressed beside each side of your head, caging you in entirely. His long torso is leaning down slightly, so his eyes are directly with in your line of sight. 

His scent comes onto you like an avalanche. He smells strongly of leather, cologne, shaving cream, something woodsy yet manly and strangely enough, clean laundry. 

It was unlike any scent you’d ever smelt on a man, but somehow it fit him perfectly and you found yourself inhaling deeper than usual, your heart racing at his sudden proximity. 

He’s so close, your chests are only an inch or two away and he’s staring straight into your soul, cornering you like a predator would a helpless prey. 

“Uh...” you can only mumble awakwardly, still kind of dazed and gaping up at him in utter shock, you can barely hear yourself over the loud pounding of your erratic heart. 

Up close, he’s more beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined a person to be and his piercing gaze was honestly dizzying you. 

“Why are you here, doll?” 

His sudden question jerks you painfully back into reality and you press your lips together, your brows pinching up instantly at his words. The question is so blunt, so sudden, you can only blink furiously up at him. 

“I- what?” You breathe shakily, suddenly unable to function at all. 

He tilts his head down at you, raising a brow and speaking awfully matter-of-factly. “Well you’re that pretty little thing from that shit-hole parking lot, aren’t you?”

At first you can only blink stupidly at him, not expecting him to recognize you but then it suddenly dawns on you...if he recognized you then-

You gasp loudly, cheeks more fiery than ever. 

A knowing smirk grows on his face. “Hey, for what it’s worth, angel, it was a pretty catchy ringtone.” 

You bite your lip in order to supress any small sound threating to spill over out of your lips. 

His eyes darken when they fall onto your meek movement and he tightens his hold in the wall, inhaling sharply. “Damn...” 

Your blush darkens and your stomach clenches at his small, heated mumble that leaves those pretty lips. 

Maybe it was the smug little smirk on his beautiful face that bothered you so much. Or maybe it was the way his eyes pierced through you like you were see-through, but either way, you felt trapped. 

Like he was a lion and you were some small, distressed powerless prey, unable to escape that watchful gaze.

“I have to go...” you breathe curtly, staring at his mouth from under your lashes as his pink tongue pokes out, sweeping lightly over his lips.

He chuckles sexily. “Oh, nu-uh, doll. You haven’t answered my damn question yet. What’s a girl like you doing here?” 

“A girl like me?” You frown. 

He laughs, looking away for a second before turning his magnetic eyes back onto you, somehow more intensely than before. 

“You and I both know you don’t belong on this side of town, angel,” he whispers meaningfully, staring at your mouth fixedly. 

“I-I don’t even know you,” is all you can manage in a shaky voice, feeling like an invisible force is pushing at your chest. 

His eyes lazily drag up to your own and he hums thoughtfully. “You don’t have to. You just have to tell me what you want with this place.” 

You find yourself reeling back indignantly at his demanding tone despite your nervousness. Just who did this stranger think he was?

“I don’t have to tell you jack shit,” you snap. “Now let me go, please.”

If he’s shocked by your little outburst, he doesn’t show it, instead he laughs lowly, the sound somehow like pebbles scraping against gravel and also like what silk felt on your skin or the way honey squeezes out of a bottle. 

The sound was so sexy- a perfect balance of masculine and airy- that it felt like a carress on your skin. 

“Oh, you’re definitely not from around here, little spit fire.”

You want to ask him what he means, but before you can, a voice cuts in from behind you both. 

“Prez.” 

The both of you freeze, but perhaps for entirely different reasons. Biker King looks mildly annoyed at the interruption, and you...

Well that voice sounded freakishly like-

Biker King releases a big breath, smoothly pushing off the wall and spinning around to look at the voice, leaving you to finally be able to release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. 

You’re still safely hidden behind the much larger frame of Biker King, but you can easily make out about three pairs of manly feet from between his lean, jean-clad legs.

“Sorry, Prez,” the same voice quickly pushes out, but he sounds more panicked than apologetic. “I know you’re busy but...” he pauses, and for some reason you know it’s because of you. 

‘Prez’? As in “president”? You found yourself wondering silently. 

Tentatively, you step out from behind Biker King, head bowed. “Uhm- I was actually just going so..” 

You don’t even plan on looking at them before high-tailing it out of there, but a shocked voice stops you. 

“Y/n?!” 

Your head snaps up instantly. 

And when your gazes make contact for the first time in a long time, you can’t help the tears that instantly pool around your eyes, eyes and nose burning furiously as all the overwhelming feelings and thoughts you’d been suppressing for so long come rushing to the surface.

It was an instantaneous reaction because deep down you had felt he was near and a wave of conflict crashes right against you as you stiffen up.

Your mouth feels dry as you blink the threatening hot tears back. You haven’t seen him in a while, but he hasn’t very much changed appereance wise. 

Those eyes were still the warmest blue you’ve ever seen, that hair was still kinky and he hadn’t chopped off his frosty tips. 

It dawns on you why you’d recgonized that voice and your heart squeezes tightly as you’re fact to face with him...

Your voice is croaky and breathy when you say his name, but you force yourself to. 

“Pietro.”

*

Steve’s POV

I watch with raised brows as Pietro, or ‘Pretty Boy’ as we called him and my angel -Y/n is what Pietro called her- naturally draw closer together, like being pulled together by some kind of fucking magnetic force, and a surge of anger rises within me instantly. 

‘So your name is Y/n, huh?’ I can find myself thinking that her name is beautiful, delicate and feminine like her and that it would probably feel good to say on my tongue. 

Bucky and Sam each shoot a weird look my way, as if asking ‘what’s up with these two?’ and I give them a short shrug, quickly turning my gaze back onto the stomach-churning scene developing before me. 

Fuck, I hated her being so close to another man, it was inexplicable. I had just met the girl but I already knew I wanted her in my bed- it was like an instinct to me. 

Pietro is now within reach of her and I can do nothing but clench my fists as he reaches his arms out, with tears in his eyes appareantly not giving a flying fuck that his brothers are watching this unfold and tugs her small body towards him. 

What fucks me up more than anything is that she doesn’t fight him in the least. 

I mean it’s clear that they know eachother from their dramatic soap opera moment, but it’s the fact that they look so natural doing it -like they’ve done it so much before it’s muscle memory at this point- that makes me want to kill someone...perferably Pietro. 

He buries his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply and I can’t say I blame him. In the small amount of time I’d spent close to her, I’d become addicted to her smell. She smelt nothing like the women I’d fucked over the years. They used cheap off-brand shit, that too potent sweet stuff...but her? 

She smelled like wild flowers and vanilla, an expensive, soft, but not entirely inconspicuous scent I would fucking drown in if I could for the rest of my miserable life. 

As I watched on, helplessly clenching my fists so as to not do something rash, she shakily lifts her petite arms and wraps them around Pietro, hugging him tightly to her.

Oh. I growl under my breath, unable to resist the pang of jealousy that hits me.  

Bucky, my vice president, sends a look my way and I’m pretty sure there’s murder on my face, but all he does is smirk amusedly, the fucker. 

But then it gets worse, because Pretty Boy’s hands start wandering, rubbing her back tenderly, up and down almost to her nice round ass. Up and down, up and d-

I see red, and before I know what I’m doing, I feel myself lunging forward, ready to rip them apart. 

Except...

“Oh shit!” I freeze when I hear Sam voice all our thoughts at what has just happened. 

In the time I had stepped forward, Y/n had suddenly broken away from the embrace, brought her small fist back and clocked Pietro right in the jaw. 

We all stare like damn idiots at the loud smack sound, and consequent mixture of grunts and yelps that rings out, but none more than me. 

Little spitfire packs a damn powerful right hook, even with her size. 

I can see even Bucky, whose the most stoic of us all, is unable to do anything but gape at the scene. 

Our shocks lasts very little because in the next second, still cradling her injured hand to her chest, she uses her other free hand to smack him in the head, over and over. 

“You asshole!” she hissses, whacking him anywhere she can get her small hand. Pietro is crouched over, arms thrown over his head in order to protect himself. 

“Y/n stop!” he demands. 

But this only seems to anger her more and she’s attacking him with more fury now. “How dare you just up and leave like that? I thought-” she huffs, pained. “I thought you loved me, you dipshit!” 

It would seem my little angel has a potty mouth on her and I can’t help but smirk bemusedly to myself despite the fact that anyone here can tell there’s history there. 

Sam and Bucky’s shock seems to have worn off as well and they’re now staring, on the verge of laughter. 

It was pretty comical I’ll admit, seeing as she was way smaller than him and still whooping his ass. It was actually pretty impressive considering he was one of my guys.

I snap into action once I remember that she’s injured her hand and that Pietro isn’t fighting back because if he did, he could kill her. 

“Sam, Bucky,” I snap, pointing at Pietro with my eyes. They don’t hesitate a single second and instantly capture Pretty Boy in their hold, tugging him back. 

I reach out and grab Y/n by her waist, easily lifting her up and away. 

“Let me go, dammit! Let me go!” 

She wiggled aggressively against my hold, still flailing her small limbs about and yelling like a nutjob, but she’s no match against my strength. 

I hug her tightly, pressing her back to me so she can relax. “Settle down, angel,” I whisper calmly in her ear, but she keeps resisting, so I hastily add “If you keep wiggling that pretty little ass of yours like that on my cock you’re going to make me do something I’ll regret later. So I highly suggest you stop. Fucking. Moving.”   

I suppress the urge to grin when I feel her instantly stiffen beneath my touch. She finally seems to give up and fall limp against my hold. 

I mean, I was only half lying to get her to calm down. Actually, I was already half hard. 

‘You are one sick fucking bastard, Steve’ I think to myself bemusedly. 

“Y/n?! What the hell is going on?!” Another feminie voice calls out from behind us. 

Our necks snap instantly towards the direction where it came from and I frown. A pretty redhead comes bounding towards us, or well, me, looking just about ready to kill me and it is then I realize that I’m still carrying Y/n. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! Let her go!” She starts to give me hell, but Y/n suddenly sighs. 

“It’s okay Wanda,” she mutters. “He was just trying to keep me from killing-”

“Wanda!” Pietro calls out suddenly and the redhead’s eyes widen, much like Y/n’s had when she had first seen him. She instantly turns to Pretty boy and runs over to him, tears in her eyes. She practically jumps on him and holds him tightly to her. 

What. The. Hell. 

Sam turns to Bucky incredulously as ‘Wanda’ and Pietro hold eachother like they were the other’s life line. 

“Dude,” Sam breathes over to Bucky. “Where the hell is Pretty Boy getting all these babes from?” 

Bucky shrugs. “No clue.” 

“Wanda what are you doing here?” Pietro breaks away from her, ignoring Buck’s and Sam’s whispers. 

“Oh Pietro! I thought you were dead!” she sniffles and I’ve had just about enough of this shit show. 

“Enough.” I call out, gently setting Y/n down. I try to ignore her pretty gaze burning holes into the side of my head and focus on the issue at hand, turning my harsh gaze to Pietro. 

He gulps audibly because he knows I’m no longer playing around. 

“Pietro, you’re going to explain now.” 

Read Chapter Four Here!!

***

Pretty short chapter but I hope you liked! If anything I can rewrite it-

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[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 6

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,327

Warnings: panic attacks, Bucky recalls his accident

A/N: I don’t have much to say, Bucky’s real emotional in this one. I hope you enjoy this chapter :’) 

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Everywhere Bucky looked his eyes and ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds and colours. Red and green baubles hung from the ceiling, shimmering like disco balls and sending sparkles around the mall.

The air smelled like pine and cinnamon, something he usually liked, but it was so pungent and unpleasant that it made his stomach churn and bile rise up his throat. He tried to breathe through his mouth, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

Flashes of silver and gold momentarily blinded him, and as someone walked past him, their shopping bag knocked against his leg. It didn’t hurt but it made him seethe with misplaced anger. Beads of sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

Christmas carols played over the mall speakers, more specifically Jingle Bells which they played three times in less than an hour. Enough, enough, enough. He was suffocating, unable to breathe. He felt too big for his own skin, he needed to escape.

Then he felt your hand at the small of his back, guiding him toward what looked like a furniture store. He followed blindly, his vision blurry and unfocused, and sat down when you gently pushed him down onto a sofa.

Bucky shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushion. A woman came up and asked if you needed help but you told her that everything was fine. The buzzing in his ears made the voices around him strangely soothing, as if he was underwater. Now that he was sitting down, he felt a lot better.  

You didn’t try to touch him, something he was very grateful for. He could feel your weight shift next to him and knowing you were there was enough. He focused on you –your heat, your voice, the smell of your shampoo- and his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he breathed out with a small smile, his head lolling to one side to look at you. “I ruined our shopping spree.”

The fear and panic had dissipated, leaving him cold, exhausted and craving skin to skin contact. He took your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were freezing cold.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I did.” A sad smile curved his lips, he needed to change the subject. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

You sank further into the sofa cushion sitting shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

“We celebrated so many different holidays,” you said. “Perks of growing up in a multicultural family. Christmas was wild though. One tree, five kids. That poor thing never stood a chance. Now I don’t really celebrate anything. December used to be so much fun, now it’s just not the same.”

“We should create our own holiday,” Bucky suggested, squeezing your hand.

“Aren’t you going to see your family?”

“Nah,” he replied with a yawn. “My sister is taking her kids somewhere warm, and my parents are traveling the country in their RV. You can invite your siblings if you want.”

“They’re not available.”

Bucky tried to decipher the expression on your face. Every time you talked about your siblings, you had a faraway look in your eyes, as though you were reliving a memory. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking but your face twisted into a painful grimace. Then suddenly it was gone.

“I want a tree.”

He watched you with a lazy smile. “I’ll get you a tree.”

You pulled him up to his feet and decided it was time to go home. Home. It still made Bucky weirdly warm inside when you called his apartment ‘home’. You crossed the mall, your arm looped through his as you walked, and took a cab to Brooklyn.

He almost fell asleep from the gentle rocking of the car moving through the streets of Manhattan. When he glanced at you, you were looking out your window watching the snow fall.

You’d been living together for almost two months now and Bucky couldn’t have picked a better roommate. He liked the way you sang in the shower, loud, cheerful and most definitely off-key. He liked that you had more pyjamas than every day clothes. He liked watching you paint from the living room, and it always made him laugh when you added weird things to his grocery list.

He could go to bed and sleep the whole night without waking up, feeling safer knowing someone else was there. Of course, not everything was perfect but it was close enough.

He woke up on the sofa a few hours later, still dressed and with a fluffy blanket thrown over him. The sun was setting, painting the sky with reds and oranges. He basked in the setting sun, a content smile on his face, before he sat up.

The TV was on, the volume low, and you were sitting cross-legged on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table going through a bunch of old photographs. Bucky looked around the room, taking in the new furniture and decor.

There was a comfortable armchair in front of the gas burning fireplace. Your book was resting on the seat of the armchair. You had also bought a lot of decorative pillows, some were pretty funny like the one that looked like a giant cookie.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Hey, you’re awake! I bought some picture frames. I thought it’d make this place look less like a high end furniture store.”

“I liked it better when you thought this apartment was amazing.”

You laughed. “I still do, but it’s a bit... soulless.” You tilted your head back, looking at him upside down. “Sorry.”

“Gotta call a spade a spade,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “All right, well, while you do that I’m going to start dinner.”

He pushed off the sofa but you caught his wrist before he could leave. “I’m already done. I’ve left some frames for you.”

“I already have lots of pictures upstairs.”

“I know, but no one ever goes upstairs,” you replied, letting go of his wrist. “And you’re not in any of the photos.”

Bucky’s eyes were drawn to the picture you were holding. It must have been taken on the day of your high school graduation, you were dressed in a cap and gown, smiling with your whole face. He’d never seen you smile like that. He recognized Peggy Carter right away, her hair was more silver-white than brown and there were deep wrinkles around her eyes.

Your mom wasn’t looking at the camera, she was scolding the young man who was giving you bunny ears. The man was grinning mischievously at the camera. Bucky couldn’t tell how old he was, he appeared to be either twenty or fifty.

There were two other women wearing sundresses, one had long brown hair, the other had twisted her hair into Bantu knots. A young man with dyed silver hair and dark roots was squatting in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest à la Backstreet Boys.

“You should frame this one,” he said, sitting on the floor next to you.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It makes me kinda sad.”

Bucky learned not to dwell on the past. It hadn’t been easy but it would have been impossible to heal without the support of his friends and family. Grief manifests itself in a number of ways, it’s raw and complex, and comes from your soul. 

Bucky had a deep love for his childhood, especially his college years, but while he would cherish this time forever, he had accepted that he was a different person. He wasn’t the same naïve, youthful man he used to be, and it wasn’t a bad thing.

But he also knew that some people live in the past. It makes them feel alive.

“Y’know,” he started, meeting your eyes with a smile. “My hair used to be pretty long. I think I still have some photos in a folder somewhere.”

You clasped your hands together in a silent prayer. “Bucky, I’m going to be honest with you,” you deadpanned. “I need to see those pictures. I need them now. It’s a matter of life and death.”

He rolled his eyes while he got to his feet. “You’re so dramatic. I’ll go get ‘em.”

Bucky took the stairs up to his office and came back a few minutes later with a laptop under his arm. He sat on the floor next to you and set the laptop on his lap.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, mimicking a Cheshire cat grin.

He sighed and tried to look stern but it was nearly impossible. You were too lovely, and he couldn’t help but smile. He opened up the laptop and glanced at you from the corner of his eye; you were practically vibrating.

He started going through the photos when he found one of himself at a party. He was in his early twenties, slumped in a chair, his eyes glassy and unfocused. In the next one he had been joined by two equally drunk women, and he was now roaring at the camera.

“Early twenties, two arms, and not a care in the world,” he said with a little sigh.

You leaned forward, your elbow resting on the coffee table. “Looks like you were having fun.”

“College was a lot of fun,” Bucky said, grinning to himself.

“What was your major?”

“English,” he replied. “I was a really good student, I could have chosen anything but there were more girls studying literature so I enrolled as an English major.”

“Wait!” You recoiled as if you had misheard him. “Did you really choose English because there were more girls?”

He made a funny grimace, and his nose scrunched up a bit as he mulled it over. “Yeah... my priorities were a bit mixed up. Hormones and all.”

You lowered your face into your hand and laughed. When you looked up at him, he was sporting his boyish grin and you shook your head at him.

In the next picture, he was clad in a black university graduation gown standing next to a blond man also dressed in a black gown. They were smiling, sunglasses perched on their nose.

“When I graduated, I had no idea what to do with a BA in English,” Bucky said after taking a long look at the photo. “The thing is, I never found my life’s calling. In high school I didn’t know what job I wanted to do, or what really motivated me, and to be honest I never really thought about it. I figured I’d find my passion in college but...” he trailed off with a shrug. “You’re lucky to have found your passion.”

“Is that why you want to help me?” you asked. “Because I found my calling and I wasn’t pursuing it.”

He tilted his head to one side, considering. “Yes, I guess that’s part of the reason why I want to help you.” He took a shuddering breath.

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one struggling to keep my head above water.” He pressed his index finger to the computer screen. “This is Steve, my oldest friend. He had just started working as a professional freelance photographer. I had nothing to do so I decided to help him build his portfolio. You’re an artist, I’m sure you know that a portfolio will make or break you.”

“It shows what you’ve accomplished, the skills you mastered,” you said, nodding. “Your potential employers will want to see your portfolio.”

“Exactly, and you have to show them your best work. In Steve’s case, it meant taking risks. No matter how talented you are, no one’s gonna pay you for a shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s gorgeous but it’s not rare.”

“So what did he do?”

“We decided to climb Mount Everest.” He mechanically rubbed his stump and your eyes followed his movement. “It might’ve been the dumbest idea we’ve ever had but it sort of made sense at the time. Steve needed a challenging project and I was trying to find my purpose. We trained for a year, put money aside and took a loan. We were young, we thought we were invincible.

“The thing is,” he continued, “Mount Everest is the most famous mountain in the world. It’s crowded and only half the climbers reach the summit. A lot of people die.” He took a small pause. “Sometimes they can’t remove their bodies and they become landmarks. Our Sherpa told us about this man, they call him Green Boots. He’s sort of curled up in a fetal position near what they call Green Boots’ cave. When you walk past him, it looks like he’s just sleeping and because it’s so cold out there he’s actually well-preserved.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Bucky let out a small, humourless laugh. “When I fell, I dislocated my arm and it pinched my axillary artery completely closed. It cut off circulation. That’s why they had to amputate. I was just lying there, too weak to call for help, watching people walk past me. They thought I was dead. And I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here and people will refer to me as Blue Jacket.’ Then Steve and the Sherpa found me, and Steve carried me on his back until they found a shelter. When the rescue team arrived, it was too late to save my arm.”

He went through the photos in silence and glared at the screen without really seeing it, his mind far away. On the screen, there was an endless stream of blurry smiles and blue eyes but he couldn’t look away. His thoughts cleared up when he felt the back of your knuckles along his cheek and jaw.

He unclenched his teeth, feeling the pain in his jaw. You brushed your fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. You mindlessly played with the curl on top of his head and raked your fingernails gently over his scalp. When you spoke, your voice was just a soft whisper.

“Come back to me.”

Bucky forced his eyes shut and swallowed past the lump in his throat, tears pooling on his lower lashes. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. After a moment, he felt his body beginning to relax.

“How do you do that?” he asked in a pleading voice, turning his head to look at you. “How do you quiet the noise in my head?”

The question caught you off guard but you recovered quickly. You took his arm and draped it over your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you said, snuggling into his side. “It’s your second panic attack today. Did I push you too hard?”

“No.” His response was immediate. “I don’t like winter. It’s freezing cold and it gets dark at three thirty. Not my favorite time of the year.”

“But this helps, right?” you asked, waving your hand back and forth in the space between you.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it helps a lot.”

“Good.” You snuggled a little closer.

“But since you’re hoarding my arm, you’re gonna have to go through the pictures yourself,” he added, grinning down at you.

“Sorry,” you laughed. You reached out and slid two fingers over the touchpad guiding the cursor over the arrow icon. “So where are those pictures of you with long hair, uh?”

He knew you were trying to distract him but still made him blush. Those photos were in a folder titled: recovery spring 2010. He gave you directions to find it and waited for your reaction, wondering if you would burst into laughter at the sight of him with long hair and a lot more weight on.

“Wow.”

Bucky turned his attention to the screen to see which one had caught your interest. It was a selfie Steve had taken one sunny afternoon after he had forced Bucky to go out with him and Sam. They were sitting outside drinking iced tea.

Steve’s smile was blinding. He was wearing that stupid baseball cap he loved so much. Bucky sat hunched over in his seat behind Steve, his smile small but genuine. It was the kind of smile that said ‘my friends forced me to join them but I’m secretly glad they did’. Sam was leaning sideways against Bucky, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“You look like a completely different person,” you said. “So... strong.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offense. “How dare you? I’m still strong.” He removed his arm from behind your shoulders and raised it to flex his biceps. “Look at that!”

With a roll of your eyes, you let your hand roam over his muscular arm slightly squeezing his biceps. “Okay, I’m impressed.”

“Ah! Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Now, c’mon, s’ time to eat.”

Bucky got to his feet and extended his hand to help you up. You trailed behind him as you walked toward the kitchen. “I bet Steve could rip a log in half with his bare hands.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Where is he?”

“Hard to say. He works for National Geographic now. I think he’s supposed to be in Siberia.”

You spent the next few days like tourists. You showed Bucky your favourite museums, stayed way too long in front of several artworks but he never complained. Bucky took you to the movies. You sat together in the dark for several hours watching foreign films, and you only fell asleep once. Then the two of you would walk around Manhattan speaking in a made-up language and pretending to be characters in a movie.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree. A little voice in the back of his head kept repeating ‘enjoy it while it lasts’ but he chose to ignore it.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Bucky said, gesturing at the tree in the living room. “She went to the store to buy some ornaments.”

He handed Sam a bottle of beer which he took with a smile before tipping it to his lips for a long drink. Bucky hit his beer bottle on the counter to uncap it and followed Sam into the living room.

“She’s excited, uh,” Sam said with a grin. “You guys are spending Christmas together?”

“Liss,” Bucky replied after taking a swig of beer. “We’re celebrating Liss this year.”

“’The hell is that?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s an old word. It means comfort, happiness.” A respite from pain. “We decided to make our own holiday. We’re going to spend two days in our fanciest loungewear, eating junk food and playing board games.”

“Cute,” Sam drawled out. “When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t say that.” Bucky glared at him. “Why do you always do that? I finally feel at peace with myself. I’m happy, I’m ready to take on new challenges. Why do you always have to make fun of me?”

Sam’s eyes widened at this. “Woah, I’m joking. It’s what we do. You tease me, I tease you. C’mon, I know things have been hard for you. I’m proud of you,” he rushed to say, afraid he might have hurt his friend’s feelings, but then he caught Bucky’s barely concealed smirk behind his beer bottle. “You’re messing with me.”

“Of course, man. Can you say ‘I’m proud of you’ again? Wanna make it my ringtone.”

“Screw you.” They sipped their beer in silence, each deep in thought. “But you like her, right?”

Bucky twirled the neck of the bottle between two fingers. “I do, she’s nice.”

Sam shook his head like he was frustrated with the answer “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not in love with her, Sam.”

“I never said anything about being in love.” He was silent for a moment before he added, “Beside there’s an entire world between like and love.”

Bucky caught a glimpse of hurt and fear in the depths of Sam’s eyes. He reminded him of Steve: strong yet vulnerable, generous and righteous. Bucky had a feeling Sam wasn’t talking about you.

“Is this about Natasha?”

Sam hung his head and stared at the beer bottle he rolled between his hands. “Sometimes I feel like it was inevitable. These sugar daddy relationships are complicated; at first it’s fun and easy, we both get what we want.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “And then it changes, so fast you barely see it coming, and it becomes the only thing you look forward to.” He took another swig of beer.

“These few hours with her mean more to me than anything else in this goddamn world. But it’s not real, none of this is real.”

“How do you know it’s not real?” Bucky asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“I pay her.” Sam gave him a sad smile. “She spends time with me because I pay her. Sex wasn’t part of our deal but it came naturally. It’s going to end, one way or another. And If my time with her is limited, why make things complicated, y’see?”

An uneasy feeling gnawed at Bucky’s stomach, taunting him, trying to make him see something he wasn’t ready to see yet. “What if she feels the same way ‘bout you?”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “To know that I’d have to talk to her, and I’d rather not take my chances. I’m happy with the way things are right now. It hurts, but I’m okay.” He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “You gotta be careful, Bucky. I see the way you look at your angel. You’re skating on thin fucking ice.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Like, love,” Sam said, weighing the two words. “And everything in between.”

They mulled over Sam’s words while they finished their beer. A million thoughts raged through Bucky’s head, circling around like wasps, buzzing and annoying. He was relieved when he heard the front door open.

“Italian leather loafers, mmh is Sam here?” you called out from the kitchen where you set your shopping bag down on the table before you joined them in the living room. “Hey guys! What’s the matter? You both look like someone kicked your puppy-OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THAT TREE!”

While you ran across the living room, Sam cast Bucky a look. The message was clear; be careful. They got to their feet and acted like nothing happened. Sam put on his coat and gave you a quick hug before he left.

Bucky was silent while you were decorating the tree. He let you decide where you wanted to put the tinsel and baubles. He just sat there with a vacant look in his eyes, handing baubles. A smile curled his lips when you cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone. He looked up at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Just old and moody.”

You laughed. “Come here, help me with this. It’s actually super boring when no one’s fighting for the baubles.”

“Oh, you wanna fight, angel,” he said with a smirk while he played with a tinsel garland. “Ok, let’s fight.”

You took a step back. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Too late!”

You shrieked when he launched himself at you. He wrapped the tinsel garland around you, loosely pinning your arms to your sides. You laughed so hard your eyes watered and your shoulders shook. He used it to his advantage and looped two baubles over your ears like giant earrings.

Still laughing, you tugged one of your hands free and threw a handful of tinsel all over Bucky before you ran away. He chased you around the living room, using one of the fairy lights as a lasso.  

Soon, the living room was a giant mess. There was more tinsel in Bucky’s hair than on the tree, and you had managed to wrap the fairy lights around his body. You look pretty ridiculous with your giant earrings and dishevelled hair.

You and Bucky collapsed on the floor, out of breath and euphoric. The sun was starting to set behind the skyscrapers casting a warm golden glow over the room. You turned on the fairy lights and burst out laughing when Bucky sparkled like a tree.

He found his phone on the sofa and handed it to you. You opened up the camera app and nestled closer to him. The first photo was blurry because you couldn’t stop laughing. Bucky thought the second photo was nice but you didn’t like it.

“My smile is too wild,” you said.

“You look beautiful,” he argued. “I look like a Christmas tree.”

Bucky felt a pleasant stir in his belly when you placed your head on his shoulder. Be careful. He could practically hear Sam’s voice in his head. His chest was hurting. It wasn’t unpleasant, just peculiar and unexpected. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Bucky! You have to open your eyes,” you scolded him after looking at the picture, unaware of his inner turmoil.

He wasn’t sure he could; tears were welling up in his eyes. He was terrified of his feelings for you, but his body was screaming at him to stop burying his head in the sand. He didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes, he didn’t want to alarm you, because the truth was, he hadn’t been careful.

“Can’t. I’m comfy,” he replied, masking his true feelings behind a joke.

“Open them or I’ll tickle you.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, no need to use force.”

He soldiered on and opened his eyes, smiling at the camera. He liked you, and he promised himself he would never tell you. His feelings didn’t matter, it wasn’t part of your deal.

Part 7

[marmolady]

Her Reason

Main Pairings: Shamir x Catherine

Summary: In the wake of Lady Rhea's death, a lost and grief-stricken Catherine frets after Shamir.

Word Count: 2542

Warnings: Grief and loss. Also, I haven't written FE3H before, so don't expect a masterpiece.

*throws at @greengroove and runs away, hiding face*

____________________

The rainstorm that had rolled in further shrouded Garreg Mach in gloom. The downpour came as if to wash away what had been, whether those left behind were ready for that change or not. A sombre atmosphere hung within the monastery’s ancient walls, and nowhere was it more potent than in the audience chamber; where weeping prayers in hushed voices were magnified in their number. Save for the distinct air of mourning, it could have been a scene from before the war. And… save for the absence of the church’s most prominent figure. Where Lady Rhea once stood, a wall of flowers and wreaths paid her tribute.

Few felt that absence more than the archbishop’s most loyal knight. It had been a long time since Catherine had found herself so aimless… bereft. More years than she’d worry herself to count. No doubt it had been noted by her partner, for it was a long time as well since Catherine had been so quiet.

Shamir’s sadness was different. It wasn’t for Lady Rhea-- a fact that she’d never hidden-- it was for her, Catherine. Just this morning before heading out on the mission, Shamir had referred to Lady Rhea with the proper and respectful honorifics, clearly not out of any reverence for the late archbishop-- no way!-- it had all been about treading carefully with Catherine’s emotions. From someone so stubborn…. Well, Catherine knew a thing or two about stubbornness herself, and she knew that some small, subtle acts against the unyielding grain held a lot of weight. If it weren’t for that weight, Shamir’s lack of sorrow for the passing of Lady Rhea might not have been bearable. It wasn’t fair, Catherine knew that, but it was what it was. At least Shamir was honest. She’d take that over the falseness of some of the nobles in ‘mourning’ any day. On a practical level, it meant that Shamir had been able to step up; proving to be a vital force amongst the knights during this period of transition, while others had been made undeniably vulnerable in the wake of their profound loss. It was no secret that this situation was not to last; Shamir, like Catherine, was at a cross-roads. All either of them knew was that it was a transition they would ride out together.

To be honest, Catherine wasn’t sure why she’d come up here. Perhaps it was just a habit that refused to die; when she was lost, Lady Rhea had the answers. But all she found here now was a dull sense of finality. Her purpose for so many years simply no longer existed.

The sound of the rain suddenly became a roar upon the high-vaulted roof. Catherine had to stop herself from flinching. As much of a hindrance that she might have been, and however much both Alois and Shamir might have protested, she’d rather be in the thick of a mission than waiting behind; not knowing what battles were being fought in her absence… not knowing how her partner was faring. She and Shamir were a team for good reason. It was a rare foe that could best their potent combination of belligerent force and sharp precision. There was no doubt that Shamir was perfectly capable without Catherine-- hell, no one could argue against that prowess with the bow-- but… some things were too important to be gambled. Shamir was too important. In this storm, visibility would be compromised….

“Oh, Catherine--”

“Flayn! I didn’t see you there.” Catherine startled, but recovered masterfully. One would have thought being partnered with Shamir for years would have made her immune to being snuck up on… apparently not. Or, she was really off her game.

“How wonderful to see you! It has been a few days… I do not believe I have even glimpsed your face in the dining hall. Not that I…. Well, it is hard not to struggle with one’s appetite in the wake of….”

As Flayn trailed off, her warm smile became sorrowful, but no less kind and genuine.

“Nah, appetite? I don’t even know what that is anymore. It’s a strange feeling for me. All the fire’s just… fizzled out. It’s as if I don’t even know which way is up.”

That was certainly true. It was the same shock that had been so staggering when Lady Rhea had disappeared all those years ago, but the glimmer of hope that driven the fight was now extinguished. And after tasting the sweet relief of finding her alive and-- not well, but alive counted for something, didn’t it?-- but they’d saved her, and then…. It wasn’t just a bitter pill to swallow; it was gutting. Catherine was totally lost. The only thing that made sense anymore, the one thing in all this chaos, was Shamir. How strange that, from the right person, some well-placed snark could court a smile-- even though it be a shaky one. And behind it all, the aloof quietness and the deadpanned jibes, Shamir cared for her. Right now, it made all the difference.

Just get your ass back here safe, partner.

Flayn’s expression was full of concern; no doubt picking up on Catherine’s worry. “If you feel yourself at a loose end, you could do worse than to take the time to care for yourself,” she said gently. “I find a good meal is fine place to start.”

If she could hold anything down…. Actually taking the time to eat a proper meal would, however, kill some time. And maybe she was hungry? Probably just the dread she was feeling, but a bite to eat couldn’t hurt.

The dining hall was bustling; apparently the wild weather had made the lure of a steaming bowl of onion gratin soup simply irresistible. Next to the mournful quiet that permeated the rest of the monastery it was jarring. Well, Catherine had wanted to be distracted.

It was all too easy, though, for the layers of voices to become just an unintelligible roar. The smiling faces grated on Catherine. This was just too normal. It was best she didn’t talk to anyone; just eat her fill and get out of there. She was in no mood for mincing words with anyone who had the nerve to gab away over a meal as if everything hadn’t changed, as if everything wasn’t wrong. These people could take a leaf out of Shamir’s book….

There it was. All of five minutes, and guess who’s on your mind again?

In the wake of Lady Rhea’s passing, it probably only made sense that she was fretting over any possibility that she might lose the other shining light in her life. You could never assume you were going to win any battle, but out of action, Catherine could do nothing except to assume everything was fine. That Shamir was safe. And she couldn’t just do that; the uneasy feeling wasn’t shifting.

She’d just have to deal with it. Thinking about Shamir. All through this wretched storm.

And there was a lot to think about. The proposition that Shamir take Catherine’s hand in marriage had not been forgotten-- not remotely. She cared for her partner deeply, she loved her, and the only future she could see out of this wreckage was the two of them together. There was nothing truly left for Catherine here-- her devotion had not belonged to the church, but for its head--; to disappear with her blunt and prickly Shamir into the sunset was a tantalising lure. But it wasn’t fair. How was Catherine to trust her own judgement when the throes of grief had her on the edge of snapping? That grief-- the price of it-- was not Shamir’s to bear. It would be all too easy to give in to comfort and spare the forethought….

But, a little voice in Catherine’s head stubbornly insisted, you know who you are. You know who you are with her. Any ‘doubt’ is an excuse. You’re just afraid to feel too much; afraid of giving everything and being once again left with a jagged empty space in your heart. Like the one left by Lady Rhea… the one left by Christophe.

If she hadn’t gotten so flustered and just said ‘yes’ then and there, would she be sitting here now? Imagining all that could go wrong on the field of battle in her absence? Perhaps Shamir would have stayed behind with her. Perhaps they’d be huddled together in a quiet corner, sharing a pint… Catherine mourning and Shamir commiserating. And they’d tentatively map out a future. A future different to what Catherine had seen for herself, but not in that they’d be together. That was something she could still believe in. She’d been presented with the perfect opportunity to express her feelings. Why hadn’t she just said ‘yes’?

Soup downed as quickly as possible-- no doubt indigestion would follow-- Catherine made a beeline for the front gates. The sun was going down, the rain slowing; the chances of the mission stretching out any longer than nightfall were slim. Even in a tempest, how long did it take to put down a few wolves, monstrous proportions or not?

As if by clockwork, from out the now-drizzling rain trudged a small group returning from the mission, mud-splattered and --in some cases-- bloodied.

Shamir was not among them.

No, no, no, no no….

Dread hit Catherine like an icy fist to the gut… clenching until she was totally winded. Too roughly, she pulled Byleth aside as they stepped through the heavy doors.

“Where’s Shamir?”

“The group became separated in the downpour--”

Of course it did. Damn it! Not waiting to hear more, Catherine strode off. “Fuck, Byleth! Well, it looks like a nice evening for a walk. I’m going for a bit of… fresh air.”

One hand on Thunderbrand’s hilt, ready to smite whatever creature had lain waste to her partner, Catherine powered on in the direction of the mountainside village the beasts had been threatening. Her angry panting breath caught in her throat, unable to move past the cold, hard lump there.

This was her fault. This was her….

--Thnk--

An arrow whizzed in front of Catherine’s face, finding its mark on a tree at the side of the path and making her skid to a halt.

“Is there a reason you’re striding off alone into the forest?”

And Catherine breathed. There she was, sheltering in the trees… perfectly fine. Safe. Thank the goddess. Thank the fucking-- She ran. She ran and took Shamir in her arms.

The force of the embrace swept Shamir clean off her feet and left her winded. Always nice as it was to see Catherine, this was somewhat excessive. Nevertheless, she hugged back firmly. All this upheaval… to be swept up in the arms of the person she loved most in all the world was admittedly a most wonderful comfort.

“...Anyone would think you’d convinced yourself I’d got killed out there….”

Catherine stepped back, and shifted her weight, sheepish.

Sheepish? Catherine? Oh.

Shamir shook her head in disbelief. Jeez, Catherine was really not okay. “Do you think Byleth would have left me-- would have left anyone-- if the beasts had not already been dispatched?”

“What--? Am I the Byleth-whisperer now? Even they don’t know what’s going on in their head!”

Though admittedly, Catherine realised, Shamir had a fair point. There may have been a smidgeon of unnecessary panicking. What was wrong with her head? It was just the thought of her partner fighting off some slobbering beast alone, compromised by a storm…. If anything had happened because Catherine had been too caught up in grief to be there backing her up….

Shamir brought her numb, wet fingers up to Catherine’s cheek, cradling her there.

“If you need me to remain close, then close is where I’ll stay.”

… then kissed her, slow and deep.

When Shamir pulled back at last, she was met with a dumbstruck expression and without a doubt the fiercest blush she’d ever seen across her partner’s face. Oh, the satisfaction. It was not every day the great Thunder Catherine was rendered speechless. Shamir made a note to remember that trick. Not that she’d ever need an excuse to want to…. It had been a long time coming. Too long.

Catherine swallowed hard. She could feel her mind short-circuiting, but she wouldn’t let it happen this time. Not when that had felt…. She leaned forward, touched her forehead to Shamir’s. It did… feel like coming home. Something joyous, impossibly joyous was rearing up inside her, some swell of certainty and desire and love… a feeling so vast she could not cut it down with even the mightiest swing of Thunderbrand. Why would she even try anyway?-- this was glorious.

“I thought I could always read you…,” Shamir said as her partner seemed to return to her senses, “but I was never quite sure if you understood that I meant it. When I suggested we marry.”

“I wasn’t expecting it!” Catherine defended herself, arms raised. Her face still was a glowing red, she could feel it burning. “Trust you to be the one to take me by surprise.”

Shamir held Catherine’s gaze, trying not to get lost in those startling blue eyes, so alight with fire. She had so feared that fire might fizzle and fade. She’d protect that fire, tend it as she would the spark of her own life. She needed Catherine to know that she’d meant it.

“Someday we might lose this,” she said, voice hoarse. “Actually, scratch that ‘might’; we're not naiive. All things end. But for as long as I’m breathing, all I am is yours. We’re in this for the long run…,” A sparkle came to her eye, as she met Catherine’s, an adoring smirk to her lips, “…partner.”

“It’s a relief that you meant it-- it would have been a wickedly cruel trick in light of the fact that I love you.”

“You…?” Shamir’s breath hitched.

“Love you.” Catherine affirmed. “I… love you.” Was it normal for her heart to be beating this hard? It was going wild, as though she was storming recklessly into a battle of impossible odds. She could hear it over the goddamn rain…. But it was nice. Oh, it was nice. “Heh,” she chuckled. “It actually feels pretty good to say it out loud. You should try it sometime.”

The vulnerability behind that dare wasn’t lost. Shamir could almost hear Catherine holding her breath.

“Catherine. I love you.”

Sputtering a breathless laugh, Catherine pulled her partner-- her lover-- into another embrace. Holding her like she’d never let her go. Because there was not a fucking chance in hell she ever would. She had her reason to keep fighting there in her arms.

“We could take a further dive into blatant sentimentality,” she said. “There is a chance I alarmed Byleth enough that they’ll come searching, and see how hard I’m blushing right now. My reputation will be destroyed forever!” She pulled away, painful as it was. It was, though, in aid of something bigger. “Or you could always just… kiss me again.”

The day’s last rays of the sun pushed through the clearing clouds, creating a sparkle on a rain-drenched land.

And Shamir kissed Catherine again.

[krillin-fanfic]

Identity In Ink

Welp, I did a thing! Probably one of only two I’ll be able to do this month, but I DID IT! This one’s for the “Tattoo” prompt, and mostly 18-focused and a shortie, but it’s a concept I’ve discussed with people in the past: Basically, did Gero ever do anything to mark his creations, and if so, how would they deal with that. And this one just kinda flowed out. Feel free to show some love or leave feedback in the links too! FF.net link AO3 link Without further ado, here we go.

Sometimes, she couldn't help but let it bother her.

It was a small thing. Something hidden away, beneath clothing, able to be put out of sight, and thus out of mind. But since she'd moved here... since she'd spent more time with her husband on the beach... it was becoming harder to ignore.

"Hmm.." 18 stood in front of the bedroom mirror, her pajama shorts pulled down a bit as she gazed at her hip, fingers idly tracing the object of her discomfort. There, on her left hip, was a small tattoo of the Red Ribbon logo.

It really shouldn't have bothered her, she knew; she'd made her peace with that part of her life a couple of years ago, around the same time she'd finally allowed herself to accept she'd had feelings for her best friend. But still, it reminded her of a time when she hadn't been so free. Reminded her that everything she used to be had been stolen away from her. Reminded her of that twisted old man and his "experiments"...

"Hey babe, you ok?"

18 inhaled sharply and let go of the shorts, the elastic snapping back against her as she spun to face her questioner, her expression cool as ice. "Do I look like I'm in trouble, dear?"

Krillin frowned, tugging at the loose shirt that served as his pajama top. "Well... yes, honestly. You can fool a lot of other folks, 18, but I know when something's bothering you." He pointed at the mirror behind her. "Plus I kinda caught you staring at that for a while."

18 closed her icy blue eyes and exhaled sharply through her nose. "Picking up habits from the old man again, are we?"

"Hey now, come on," he protested. "You're my wife and the mother of my child, who is finally asleep, might I add. But I'm allowed to look in our bedroom."

18 crossed her arms and huffed. "Peeping tom."

Krillin laughed as he noticed the faintest hint of a smile on his wife's lips. "Okay, okay, my bad." He threw his hands up in mock despair. "Spare me, oh mighty goddess of Kame Island."

She opened one eye and peered at him. "Hmm... offer me tribute and I'll consider it."

Krillin took a step forward and stood on his tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Is that better, mistress?"

18 felt her face flush. "N-no... not good enough." Her blush deepened as she felt his hand cup her cheek and bring her face to meet his, her heart skipping a beat as he began to place feather-soft kisses on her lips. She loved this feeling. It was almost enough to make her forget-

She broke off the kisses and sighed deeply again. "Okay... okay yeah, there is something that's been bothering me."

"Ahhh, I figured." He took her hand in his. "What's bugging you, hon? Is it that... mark again?"

She nodded. "Mhm. Just seems so dumb. I know that's not who I am, I know I'm more than that, but sometimes when I see it, it just reminds me of before. Back when I really thought I'd lost my humanity. When I thought it was too late."

Krillin frowned. "Babe, if it bothers you that much, we can try to do something about it." He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "We can always see about getting it removed."

18 snorted. "Like we can afford that? Those procedures aren't cheap, you know. Besides, I doubt there are any places that do that who have a laser remotely strong enough to work on my skin."

Krillin shrugged. "Fair enough, I suppose." He rubbed his chin for a moment. "Have you considered covering it up with something else, then?"

18 rubbed her forehead. "Maybe... I dunno. I'm not sure what I'd put there even if I could, really." She sat silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "I think... I think I'm gonna go check on Marron real quick." She gave her husband a pat on the head as she headed out the door. "Back in a sec."

She tiptoed across the hall to her daughter's room, the door now adorned with letters spelling out the little one's name, turning the knob as quietly as she could. She only opened it wide enough to slip in, and shut the door behind her; no sense risking her baby girl waking up when she could see just fine in the dark, after all. She took the final two steps to the crib nestled in the middle of the room and smiled.

There lay her baby girl, sound asleep. Her blonde curls splayed out on her pillow, her tiny fist balled up on her chubby little cheek, little noseless face the picture of angelic calm as her tiny chest rose and fell with each breath. 18 reached out and brushed her other cheek softly, and sighed with content.

Little Marron had only recently reached an age where they'd felt comfortable letting her have her own room, and even then it was reluctantly. But between needing a larger crib, and frankly no small amount of frustration, they'd decided it was time. Little Marron hadn't initially been a fan, being quite fussy the first few nights; her father had been as well, and 18 rather appreciated the irony of her husband wanting a return to their intimacy yet also being grumpy about not having Marron with them. She understood though. Marron was one of the only two people whose mere presence seemed to have a calming effect on her. She could be in the worst of moods, but the moment that baby girl cooed at her, it all seemed to drift away as she got lost in those big dark eyes.

18 rested her cheek on her arm as she watched her baby sleep. Her baby. The idea had felt so impossible not so long ago. She'd been sure, positive, that all the alterations to her body would have made her unable to conceive. Gero hadn't seemed the type to leave behind anything that didn't fit his uses, after all. And it's not as if she and Krillin had bothered with precautions for well over a year without consequence. 18 allowed herself an admittedly lecherous smirk at the memories.

But then, one day, it'd happened. The news had shocked both of them, and been a source of both happiness and fear for them as well. But the moment their little bundle of love had come into the world, all that fear seemed to vanish in an instant. She's been so very small, with her mother's soft blonde hair and her father's eyes and features. There was no doubt she was theirs, and Krillin opined that she was the physical manifestation of their love. She'd initially snorted derisively and called him sappy, but as she held their little bundle, she couldn't help but quietly agree.

The tiny form in front of her stretched and yawned, and her heart melted. She was so sweet and innocent... so much so that 18 could find it hard to believe she came from her. She'd been meant to be an assassin, a killer, but now all she wanted was to protect this little angel. 18 smiled and leaned down, placing a feather-soft kiss on her baby's head before quietly opening the door backing out into the hall, gently shutting it behind her.

"She really is amazing, huh?" 18 stiffened and turned to see Krillin leaning against their doorway, grinning.

"Amazing is an understatement. Sometimes I still can't believe that we... that I-"

Krillin straightened and stepped toward her, shushing her. "You best start believing it, 18. She's ours." He took her hand and kissed it softly and smiled as she sighed, contentedly. "You feeling better now?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "Feels kinda silly now, letting something like that get to me as much as it did."

He rubbed her back softly. "Nah, it's understandable hon, believe me. So... any ideas on what you might wanna cover that up with?"

18 glanced over at her daughter's door once more. She was her second chance, the ultimate proof of her humanity. The center of her world. Her eyes fell to the plaque on the door, taking in the letters of her daughter's name. 'M-A-R-R...'.

She smiled. "Yeah... I actually do."      ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once 18 had decided on her new design, Krillin had called up Bulma to see is she's had any ideas on how they could get this done; 18's skin was near-unbreakable, after all, and no normal needle was up to the task. Bulma had eagerly agreed to be of assistance and told them to come over the next day.

It had taken a moment for 18 to brace herself, going back into a sterile lab, laying down on a table, but the procedure had been shockingly swift, a matter of minutes, and it was over before she's realized. She handled it well, all things considered, though Krillin's hand was a bit sore by the time it was over. He smiled at her. "See? That wasn't too bad." He leaned over and gently pecked her nose. "I'm proud of you, babe."

18 nodded and hopped off the slab, walking over to the mirror to examine the new ink, as Krillin turned to speak to Bulma.

"Thanks for the assist, Bulma," Krillin said. "This really means a lot."

The blue-haired Capsule Corp heiress brushed her gloves off on her overalls and lifted her face shield. "Oh, no worries. I had a free day today, and I'd been meaning to test this puppy out." She patted the side of the machine. "I got a custom order from a dinosaur rancher asking for something capable of inking numbers into his livestock, but he never showed up with a test subject so I never got to see if it worked. Just a matter of coding in the design and letting the computer do its thing!"

Krillin blinked. "Wait, did you just use my wife as a guinea pig?"

The heiress chuckled and waved him off. "Don't think of it like that. I never would have offered to do this if I wasn't 100% sure it was safe."

"I gotta admit, I never knew there were dinosaur ranchers out there..."

"Oh... yeah." Bulma scratched her cheek. "I mean, there aren't anymore, but..."

He raised his eyebrows. Oh. I...oh."

"Yeeeeah." She laughed nervously. "Turns out there's probably a reason that profession isn't very common, huh?" She glanced over at 18. "So, whaddya think?"

18 gazed at the small tattoo in the mirror. The red ribbon had been altered to resemble a small red butterfly, and letters added in the same font to now read "MARRON". It was a minor change, but it suited her perfectly. Red Ribbon's mark had been a symbol of the humanity stolen from her; this would be a reminder of what had proven to her that they never had.

She felt Krillin's hand slip into hers and smiled, warmly.

"It's perfect."

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Liberator

Bucky x reader

Warnings: Smut, cream pie eating, cum swapping

A/N: My sis @bluestarego​ randomly came up with an idea for this chaise and her ideas are literally the bomb, so of course I had to write it. There is unprotected sex in this story. Remember, this is fiction, so in real life package the meat before a beat. Hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 4.7k [My baaaddd]

********

"Ayo, tin man, where you going?" Sam asked Bucky when he saw him grabbing his jacket.

"To the bookstore. I'm tired of sitting here." He hurried to the door.

"Hold on, I'll tag along this time. Maybe we can finally look at some furniture for this place. We'll be here for at least another four months." Sam laced his shoes and followed him out.

Bucky and Sam had been undercover on this mission 3 months and counting. Nobody seemed to notice them in the small southern town. Either that or no one really cared.

Sam had been going on and on about getting furniture for the house to be more comfortable, but Bucky knew he was full of shit. Tony had given them a bunch of cash and he just wanted to shop.

"You know, you've been down to this bookstore everyday this week... What's her name?" He inquired.

"What?" Bucky tried to keep from smiling, but it was almost impossible whenever he thought about you.

"Yeah okay, you can pretend if you want. She'd better be cute or I'm gonna clown you. Does she know you're half robot?"

"Sam..."

"Relax, I'm kidding," he laughed.

When they pulled into the lot, the men jumped out, but before Sam could open the door Bucky stopped him. 

"Please do not embarrass me." He said seriously. 

"Man, move, you do enough of that on your own," Sam brushed past him. 

"Welcome! I'll be up shortly," you yelled from the back. 

You put away the stack of papers that you were going through and exited the small office. 

"Hi, how may I — oh, Mr. Stan, how are you today?" You smiled. 

"Please, call me Sebastian," he smiled. "I'm good, how are you?" 

You heard some books hit the floor. When you both looked over there, Sam was clutching a rack trying to keep it from falling completely over. 

"Guess I should go help with that. Be right back," you walked off. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. He made busy pretending to look for a new book, but he was having a hard time ignoring your laughing at all of Sam's lame jokes. He finally walked over. 

"Are you done tearing up the store?" He asked. 

"I've already apologized to the lady, Mr. Stan," he teased. 

"Do you have any new recommendations for me today?" Bucky asked, completely ignoring Sam. 

"Oh, yeah, I was telling Anthony about this new thriller we got in today. The author is pretty new to the scene, but this will definitely put her on the map. I had a chance to read it before the book was officially released." You handed him one of the books from the rack. 

"But this is new, so I can't rent it." 

"I won't tell if you won't," you winked and walked away. 

"Are you gonna ask her out?" Sam asked. 

"Are you insane?" He rolled his eyes and followed behind you. 

He handed you the book to check out. He liked your store, because it was a little different from any bookstore he was used to. You sold books, but you also rented the older ones. New books couldn't be rented for six months, but you were always willing to do buybacks for the ones in good condition. 

"Oh, I remember you telling me that you were looking for new recipes. I thought you might like this," you grabbed a cookbook, scanned it and then handed it to him. 

"That's nice, maybe he could whip something up for you," Sam patted his shoulder. 

Bucky gave him another murder glare. 

You laughed at his expression. 

"Don't worry, Mr. Stan, it's fine if you don't want to." 

"No, it's not that I don't want to —" 

"So you do?" You cut him off. 

"I uhh…" he ran his fingers through his hair. "Give me two days to find something that I think you'll like." 

"Your phone?" You held out your hand. 

He handed it to you and you put your number in and gave it back to him. 

"So I'll see you Saturday?" You gave him his bag. 

"Yeah, I'll see you Saturday," he confirmed. "But only if you promise to call me Sebastian." 

"Promise," you chuckled. 

You waved goodbye to the two men and watched them leave. You waited until they were in the car and pulling out of the lot before you picked up your phone and called your best friend. 

"You'll never guess who I have a date with this Saturdayyyy," you sang. 

"Is that weird guy who wears a leather jacket and gloves even though it's hot outside?" She said sarcastically. 

"Yes!" You replied giddy and undeterred by her sarcasm. "You have to help me find something to wear. I also need you to do my nails please?" 

She was quiet for a moment and then she bit out, "Fine, but I think he's weird and if he tries anything you'd better not hesitate to pepper spray him." 

"He's not weird. He's just different and I'm ready to find out what it is." 

Sam and Bucky walked through the furniture store. Bucky didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew he wanted it to be nice for when you came over. 

He felt like every piece he liked looked really old. He may have been 100 years old, but he didn't have to let you know that.

His eyes were suddenly drawn to this odd looking chair. It was red leather with a high sloped back, a deep arc in the middle and the bottom was low with a slope. He read the tag; Liberator: $400, but who cares? Tony could afford it. 

"You thinking about getting this?" Sam asked, seemingly coming out of nowhere. 

"What do you think? You think this is something she'd like? Should we get a few of them for the front room?" 

"Nah, this should go in your room. I think she'll like it. She's young and this is a very modern piece of furniture." He advised. 

Bucky decided to trust Sam for once. He told the salesperson that he wanted that chaise. The poor girl's face turned a bright red and she was unable to look at him. He didn't pay too much attention to it, he was used to people shying away from his presence. 

The guys picked out the rest of the furniture and headed home. Bucky noticed that Sam was giggly. More so than normal. 

"What are you so happy about?" He asked. 

"Nothing man, a guy can't just feel joy? It's a good day, Buck, we finally got some furniture. You got a really nice chair. I'm happy." He tapped on the dashboard. 

"Why'd you bring up the chair?" Bucky squinted at him. 

"Because it's a nice chair. I like the chair. You know I'm all about relaxation." 

Bucky let it go. If he hated the chair once it was delivered, he'd simply return it. No big deal. 

Bucky put the final touches on the meal he'd chosen to prepare for you. He garnished the plates, set them on the table and wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing. 

The doorbell rang. You were right on time. He gave the table a once over before coming to the door. 

"Hi," he greeted. 

"Hello there," you said. 

He just stood there and looked at you from head to toe. The white lace dress you wore hugged you perfectly at the top and flared at the waist. 

"Can I come in?" You asked, tearing him away from his thoughts. 

"Oh, yes, sorry. You look beautiful," he said as he walked you to the dining area. 

"So do you. I think the apron is my favorite part," you teased. 

He looked down and quickly removed the apron from around his waist. He blushed a little. You smiled at how cute he was. 

He pulled your chair out and pushed it in once you sat down and then took his seat. 

" It smells wonderful."

"Thank you, I tried something new tonight." 

Truthfully, everything was new for him. Bucky never did any of the cooking. That was usually Sam's thing. He only got the cookbooks to suggest things, but tonight he gave it try for you. 

You took a bite and tried to keep from gagging. You saw Bucky take a bite and immediately swallow. He didn't bother chewing it anymore. 

You took a sip of wine after you were finally able to swallow. 

"It's terrible," he said. 

"No, it's not bad at all," you absolutely lied. 

"I'll order us a pizza," he said and took your plate away. 

You just smiled at him. You didn't have the heart to tell him the food was gross, because he tried and that's what counts. 

You moved to the living room and he turned on the TV while you waited for the pizza. You noticed that he still wore a glove on his left hand and was sure to keep it away from you. You figured he was just a little shy about having a prosthetic arm. 

Once the pizza arrived, you put on some quirky movie and ate your dinner. 

"I'm sorry about this. I should've practiced the recipe a little more." 

"What? This is perfect," you told him. 

You talked with him a little. He told you that he grew up in Brooklyn. How he and Sam were college roommates and started a contracting business together.

You clung to his every word and listened without interrupting. 

"So, are you gonna give me a tour of the house?" You ask. 

"Oh, sure," he says. He slips your shoes off of your feet before walking with you hand in hand to the stairs. 

"It's not much, but this is our office space, that's Sam's room, bathroom and this is my room." He pointed. 

You flipped the switch on in the room. You were shocked and quickly walked over to the red leather chaise.

"You don't strike me as the type to have one of these," you ran your fingers over the cool leather. 

"Oh, yeah, I thought it was a very nice modern piece of furniture to have. Um, Sam actually talked me into it." 

"Did he now?" You smirked. 

"If you hate it, I can move it out of here. I won't force you to look at it," he rubbed his neck. 

"Come here," you reached out for him. 

He gave you his hand and you told him to sit down on the chair. You straddled his lap and moved your hips in a circular motion until you felt him getting hard. He rested his right hand on top of your ass and laid his head back. 

He had been so focused on his work that he'd forgotten how much he missed the feel of a woman. You leaned in close and put your lips to his ear. 

"Undo my dress," you whispered. 

He reached up and pulled the string of the bow ties on your shoulder. The thin material fell down and exposed your breasts. Your nipples immediately pebbled from the cool air. 

You scooted back a little and pulled at his shirt. 

" No," he grabbed your hands, "I um, maybe we shouldn't." 

"What's wrong?" You quiz. 

"Nothing, it's just that I…" He was lost for words. He didn't know how he would explain his arm without you freaking out. 

"Sebastian, I don't care that you have a prosthetic arm or hand. Whichever you hide under these long sleeved shirts and gloves." 

He inhaled and pressed his forehead to your chest. He was nervous. Now he remembered why it had been so long since he'd had a relationship or sex. 

"Hey," you lifted his head, "it's okay, we don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable." You kissed his lips. 

You felt his body relax as he exhaled slowly. First, he took off his glove. You ran your fingers over the shiny black metal. You then lifted the shirt a little, this time he didn't stop you. You pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. 

You lightly dragged your fingers down his neck until you reached where the metal connected to his shoulder. You traced your fingers over the lines of gold, before moving back to his scar. 

"It's connected to you, so is it fully functional?" You were curious. 

"It is," he replied. 

"That's pretty cool. The doctors must've put a lot of work and thought into this." 

"Yeah, much better than the first one I had after the war," he blurted. 

"Oh, you're a vet?" 

"Uh, yeah," he said after realizing his mistake. 

"What was your rank?" 

"Sergeant…" 

"Well, thank you for your service and sacrifice, Sergeant." You pressed your lips to his. 

He slipped his hands underneath your dress and squeezed your ass. The cool metal of his hand made your pussy clench. 

He slid a finger down your ass until he reached your folds. He rubbed your clit in a circular motion over the fabric of your thong. He moaned into your mouth when he pulled it aside and felt how wet you were getting. 

You broke the kiss, stood, unzipped his pants and pulled them down. His hard dick popped up and was at full attention. 

"Sss, ooh," you hissed as you wrapped your hand around him. 

Bucky laid back and closed his eyes. Your hands felt so good on him. You spit on his dick and rubbed it all around making sure it was coated. 

You lined him up with your opening before slowly sinking down on him. 

"Shit!" He had to brace himself and fight a mental battle, so that he wouldn't cum at this very moment. 

You were trying your best to take all of him, but he was stretching you wide and the pain was almost too much. 

Once he was able to get himself together he grabbed your hips and thrust into you. He pulled your dress over your head, so it wouldn't be in the way. 

You rolled your hips slowly and sped up as the pain turned into pleasure. You braced yourself on the balls of your feet and held to the head of the chair as best you could. 

"Bounce on this dick," he smacked your ass. 

You bounced up and down while he sucked a nipple into his mouth. He used his right hand to rub your clit. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you warned him. 

"Don't." He said and continued to rub. 

"Sebastian, I —" 

He grabbed you by the throat, "I said, no," he stuck his tongue in your mouth and continued to drive his hips upwards. 

He waited until you were right on the edge of your climax and then lifted you up. Your first instinct was to rub yourself to completion, but he stopped you. 

"I'm the only one who touches you from now on. Understand?" 

You nodded, but he wasn't satisfied. He wanted to hear you say it. 

"Yes, I understand," you said as you moved back, so he could stand. 

"Good, girl," he pulled you close to him and kissed you. 

He sat you down at the foot of the chair and dropped to his knees. You spread your legs wide and watched while he admired your pussy. Running his fingers up and down your slit. 

"Can I taste you?" 

"Yes," you moaned and laid back. 

Bucky sucked your clit into his mouth and licked you in circles. He was using his tongue to apply just the right amount of pressure to your clit. 

"You taste so good," he said. He spit on your pussy and rubbed it before sticking two fingers inside of you. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth and curled his fingers a little. 

"Ah! Fuck!" You screamed as you felt an orgasm building. 

He could feel you contracting around his fingers. Once again he kept going until you were almost there, then he pulled his fingers out and stopped sucking. 

"Why? Please!" You begged. 

"Ooh, that was only the second one and you're already begging? It's gonna be a long night, baby girl." He teased. 

He pulled you to the edge a little more, rubbed the head of his dick up and down your slit and then slid inside of you. 

You rolled your nipples in between your fingers while he fucked you. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. He'd wanted to feel you for so long. Ever since the day he wandered into your store and laid eyes on you. 

He pulled out of you and turned you on your stomach. This time switching his pace. He spread your ass cheeks apart and rolled his hips slowly as he watched his dick disappear inside of you. 

"Fuck!" He moaned as he felt himself losing control once again. 

He watched as you clawed at the chair. He could feel your pussy getting tighter and tighter. 

"Can I cum? Can I —" you were cut off by your own moans. Your body didn't wait for permission. 

He felt it. Your pussy gripped him tight and he exploded inside of you. His hips jerked as he gave you every last drop. 

He pulled out and dropped to his knees behind you. 

He smacked your ass, "Give it to me, push it out," he demanded. 

You pushed the cum mixture from your pussy and was shocked when you felt his mouth on you sucking it out. No man you'd ever been with had been so bold or comfortable. 

Once he was satisfied, he stood and turned you around to face him. He squeezed your cheeks together, so you'd open your mouth. You stuck your tongue out ready for what he was about to give. 

You were so fucking turned on, you grabbed his hand and slipped his fingers back into your pussy. 

He spit the cum into your mouth and then kissed you. Swirling his tongue around yours as he fingered you to another quick orgasm. 

He looked at his cum coated fingers and then licked them clean. You couldn't resist kissing him again and tasting yourself on his tongue. 

Bucky picked you up and carried you over to the bed. You didn't want to let him go, but you finally gave in. He walked to the bathroom and came back to clean you up and then himself. 

He got in bed with you and laid his head on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair. So many nights he'd thought about this moment. So many nights he'd thought about just being closer to you. He wished he could stay with you forever. 

He sighed. 

"What's wrong?" You asked him. 

He sat up and looked at you, he wanted to tell you the truth, but he knew that he couldn't. It would put you in danger and he couldn't risk it. 

"Nothing, everything is perfect," he smiled. 

"You have beautiful eyes, they remind me of someone, but I have never been able to quite put my finger on it."

"Thank you," he kissed you again and turned away. 

You played with his hair until he fell asleep and then you slipped out quietly. 

You were opening boxes and getting ready to stock a rack of magazines. You'd been doing well with keeping them out of the store, but a few of the teenagers kept asking and you finally caved. You let them know that you drew the line at tablets and that they were absolutely out of the question. 

You flipped through one of the fashion magazines and came across an article about Earth's mightiest heroes. You were skimming the article when you heard a knock at the door. You looked up to see Bucky waving at you. He was holding a cup holder with two coffees and a bag of donuts. 

"Hey," you greeted him. 

He returned your greeting with a soft kiss. You didn't think you could ever get tired of those kisses. 

"Doing some stocking?" 

"Yeah, I was taking a break and reading this article. I finally ordered some magazines for the kids," you picked it up and thumbed through the pages. 

Then he caught your eyes. There he was stretched across the page. The photo had a blue and purple tint to it and his hair was long, but it was most definitely him.

"You're Bucky Barnes," you said in disbelief. 

"What?" He seemed startled by your words. 

"This is you!" You shoved the magazine in his face. "I knew that you looked familiar. A freaking superhero?! You lied to me, Sebastian — Bucky, whatever your name is!" 

"No, it's not like that, I couldn't tell you." He tried to explain. "I'm on a mission. Sam and I, we're undercover." 

"Oh, you're on a mission, so get with a local to blend in a little better? Ugh! I knew you were too good to be true." You paced back and forth. 

"No, that's not true," he grabbed you, "my feelings for you are completely real."

You squinted at him, "Get off of me and get out, because you'd still be lying to me if you'd never gotten caught." You pushed him away and walked into your office slamming the door behind you. 

Bucky picked up the box of magazines and took them. If you recognized him someone else would too. He couldn't take that chance. 

He knew doing that stupid photo shoot would backfire. He didn't want to do it, but Steve and Sam talked him into it, because it was for a good cause. He knew they'd have to speed up their plans. 

He called Sam as he headed back to the house and let him know that they had to move in on the targets sooner rather than later. 

You came out of your office once you were sure Bucky was gone. You looked around to see that he had taken the boxes. 

"Great now he's a liar and a klepto," you rolled your eyes. 

You heard the bell on the door and turned around thinking it was Bucky again, but it was just one of the people who ran the laundromat a few doors down. 

"Oh, hey, Austin," you looked at your watch, "is something wrong? You know I'm not open yet." 

He didn't say anything. He just kept stalking towards you. Your fight or flight kicked into gear and you made a dash for the door. He reached out and grabbed you, but you kneed him in the balls to escape. 

You didn't get very far before you were grabbed from behind. They put a bag over your head and threw you into the back of a car where they zip tied your hands in front of you. 

"Let me go! What do you want?!" You kicked and screamed. 

"Keep it up and I'll gag you… Maybe even with my cock," you heard one of them chuckle. 

You immediately calmed down. Last thing you wanted was that. 

"Please, if you want money you'll have to take me back to the store. I keep it in the safe." 

"Shut up, we won't tell you again." Austin said. 

"Austin, please tell me why you're doing this?" 

"Because your little boyfriend needs to be taught a lesson. Him and his friend have been causing trouble and it's bad for business. Unfortunately, sweetheart, you're collateral damage." 

They drove you for almost 20 minutes before they dragged you from the car and into a building. They took you inside, sat you down and bound you to a chair. 

"Call your boyfriend," one of his henchmen ordered. 

"How exactly am I supposed to do that with my hands tied, genius?" You sassed. 

He reached into your pocket and pulled up his name. You could hear the line ringing. 

"Can you at least take the bag off of my head?" You requested. 

Bucky was fuming. He and Sam had followed the rest of Austin's gang to this warehouse. But when Austin himself pulled in, he had you. 

He thought it was odd that they were all coming out here, but now he sees that this is a set up. His phone was vibrating in his pocket. It was a call from you. 

He accepted the call and sat his phone down to look through his scope. 

"You can either let her go right now or I will kill every single one of you." He said calmly. 

"Sebastian," you cried. 

"It's okay, baby girl, I got you," he hung up. 

He let off two shots taking out the men who stood guard at the door. He took down the others as they came running from the building. 

"I'm in position," Sam said into his comms. 

Bucky jumped down from the tree he was in and moved in. He hoped you were safe. He never meant for this to happen to you. 

You heard the shots. They were so loud and it seemed like all hell broke loose after. The men around you started shouting and then you heard the door slam. 

You rocked from side to side in the chair until it tipped over. You tried your best to get loose, but nothing was helping. You started to panic as the gunshots were getting closer. 

Fear and adrenaline took over and your ears began to ring. It seemed like the bag was keeping you from breathing as you started to hyperventilate. 

You started screaming when you heard the door get kicked open. You could feel the person cutting the tape away. You were gonna fight this time. They wouldn't get the opportunity to take you somewhere else. They'll kill you for sure. 

Once your hands were free you started swinging. 

"Stop!" Bucky yelled. "It's me—" 

You punched him in the eye. He could barely get a grip on you, but when he finally did, he snatched the bag off. 

"Y/N! It's me, calm down." He hugged you. 

You relaxed into his hold and sobbed into his neck. 

"They were gon-gonna kill m-me," you stuttered. 

"I never gave them the chance. You're safe now." 

Weeks had gone by and nobody spoke a word about Austin or his mysterious disappearance. In fact, people seemed to celebrate the fact that he was gone. 

He'd been running a drug operation through the town and using his business as a front. Apparently, he had ties to Hydra, which is why Sam and Bucky were brought in to shut him down. 

You were back at your store and business resumed as normal. Bucky had left the same night of the incident. He didn't even say goodbye. He was too ashamed to face you. 

You heard the bell above the door and looked up from your phone. Your heart skipped a beat when those blue eyes stared back at you. 

"Hey," he waved. 

"I'm busy," you said and tried to walk away.

"Wait, please," he grabbed your arm, "please?" He asked a little softer. 

"I'm mad at you, you didn't even say goodbye!" 

"I know and I should have, but I was a punk and I want to make it right." He pleaded. 

"You have two minutes," you crossed your arms. 

He lifted you up on the counter and stood in front of you. It was very dramatic. 

"I'm James, but my friends call me Bucky. I'm 103 years old, but I spent most of those years frozen and brainwashed. I really did lose my arm in the war, but it was world war 2. I'm from Brooklyn and my favorite food is pizza." He said. "Oh and I fought in two alien wars, although it felt like only one, because I died in the first one and when I woke up 5 years had passed." 

"Hi, Bucky, nice to meet you." 

You pulled him in for a passionate kiss. He pulled away and pressed your forehead to his. 

"I'm sorry," he said. 

He helped you down and watched you lock the front door and switch your sign to closed. 

"If you're really sorry, you'll make it up to me," you grabbed his hand. 

He scooped you up and carried you to your office. He'd absolutely make it up to you with no problem. 

@titty-teetee​

@bluestarego​

@literaturefeen​

@fandomfavesss​

@angrythingstarlight​

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Extra Part 11

U.A. a school for students to learn how to become the best Pro-Hero. When young Y/n Midoriya returns from her traveling to be accepted through recommendation. What awaits her when she meet the explosive blonde Katsuki Bakugo

Words- 4186

Katsuki Bakugo x Midoriya!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x Cousin!Reader

Warning-Spoilers from show and end of Hero license Arc, fighting scenes, and angst.

Series Masterlist

You were outside the exam area getting ready to head back to the dorms in your hands was your license. Taking a picture you send it to your parents excited to get closer to becoming a Pro. You feel your phone buzz and there is a message from each of your parents congratulating you for passing and plans to have a dinner in celebration next time you visit. You heard footsteps coming next to you, 

“Y/NNNN! Look at my license this is soo cool!” Mina squeals shoving the little piece of plastic into your face.

You smile pushing her hand away, “We’ll probably get more work from Aizawa now that we got licenses and want to see more hands on work.” Mina nodded picking up her suitcase holding her hero costume and you followed her grabbing yours as you boarded the bus.

As you sat down in the window seat you watched as you began to make your way back to U.A. Looking back on what you couldn’t change in the first part of the exam and even at the 2nd half of the exam, what kept bugging you was what did you do to Gang Orca? You felt more powerful when it happened and he couldn’t use his quirk, you were the only other person fighting him. What is the full extent of your quirk? How powerful could I be? How dangerous could it be? 

“Mina, I gotta ask you a favor when we get back to the dorms.” She turned her attention to you and nodded deciding not to probe as there were others around. 

When you arrived back at Heights Alliance most of your classmates got ready for bed other lounging around in the common room talking about the end of summer. One by one your classmates headed off to bed until it was just you and Mina.

“So what’s the favor?” Mina asked, you were the only two left in the common rooms sitting on the couches. You got up heading outside to the courtyard. 

Stopping once you were in the middle of the area you turned and faced her, “I want you to fight me.”

“What..um..we just did all that today, and your head are you sure?” Mina tried to talk you out of it.

“I just wanna test a theory, nothing too much, just use your quirk as much as possible.” You said she seemed hesitate before psyching herself up, before rushing towards you sending a wave of acid towards you.

You dodge using your quirk to push her acid away from you sending a kick towards her ribs but she blocked it with her arm. She sent a kick to you and you blocked it with your arms pushing her back sending her stumbling. You and Mina had been fighting for a few minutes now you both getting tired already using most of your energy during the exam.

Mina uses her acid to slide towards you but you grab her arm when she goes to throw a punch flipping her over you body. She does a couple of flips before standing up. Right when acid begins to form on her hands you lift your hands up focusing on the theory you had closing your eyes trying to focus.

“What the hell?” You open them and Mina is covered with a simple red haze light Gang Orca moving her hands around trying to use her quirk but unable to. Your hands are the same bright red as before waves of energy flowing through your hands. “I can’t use my quirk.”

“Holy shit!” You drop your hands and the red haze disappears and Mina goes to use her quirk and is now able to create acid.

“Did you do that?” You flop back sitting on the ground and Mina comes over and sits next to you.

“When I was fighting Gang Orca, when he tried to attack me I was able to stop him from using his quirk.” You look down at your hands letting them glow red energy weaving through your fingers. “I thought I was just going crazy, my quirk I could move things with my mind and all. There was a time when we were learning special moves. I didn’t need to physically see the atoms to disintegrate Ectoplasm’s clone.” You turn to face Mina, “If I keep training, who knows what my quirk could do?”

“This is so cool it’s like having more than one quirk, and once we are Pro and we work harder you could be the next number one.”

You smile, “Only if you’re right there with me.” Mina laughed pulling you into a hug. You both relaxed in the quiet enjoying each other's company unaware of a fight happening on campus. You couldn’t tell how long you were there but you could tell Mina was getting tired, her yawning every so often. “You should head to bed Mina.” You turn to your friend who was nodding off but shot up when you talked to her.

Rubbing her eyes she shook her head, “Nah..I’m..uhhh...fine. I don’t wanna leave you alone.” She gave you a sleepy smile, you shook your head, smiling, getting up to help your half-asleep friend up bringing her to the elevators.

“Crap I forgot my hoodie, you fine with getting to your room.” You turn to your friend who was getting into the elevator.

“Yeah.. yawn..I’ll be good night Y/n.” She waves you off as the doors close. You head back to the courtyard grabbing it, zipping it up. You turn to head out of the courtyard when you see the lights are on inside and two people talking. You hide yourself from their view listening in on the conversation.

“Security bot went off two people at Ground Beta, it’s Midoriya and Bakugo.” You hear Mr. Aizawa and not having to see his face you can tell he is pissed.

“Let me go Aizawa. I’ll bring them back.” You heard All Might as well, how bad is this. Well it is Izuku and Bakugo so it can’t be good.

“Fine you better bring them back.” You hear Mr. Aizawa groan and you hear All Might thank him before you hear them both leave. You walk into the common room after hearing both All Might and Aizawa leave, you hesitated going back to your room. You should just ignore it, they have the situation under control. But Bakugo did seem pretty upset after the exam, you run your hands through your hair deciding on what to do.

‘This is dumb’ You thought trailing after All Might you were far away keeping to the outskirts of the path away from the middle where All Might was. ‘You should have just headed back to your room but here you are stupid’ You mumble following after your teacher.

“So how long are you going to keep trailing after me young Midoriya?” You freeze when he calls out turning to face you.

Your face burned red, embarrassed your teacher had caught you, “I didn’t mean to follow after you it’s just I heard that it was Izuku and Bakugo and just wanted to make sure they were okay, I’m sorry.” You bow looking at your feet hoping he wouldn’t send you back or worst punish you.

“It’s alright you are concerned for your classmate and cousin, come on we shouldn’t delay.” You hear All Might say and you stand straight. You nodded rushing to catch up with him both of you walking side by side. “I heard both you and Midoriya passed your licensing exams, congratulations your parents must be proud.” You nodded

“After everything that has happened something as normal seems as getting my license seems small. I guess the hero life isn’t always smooth sailing.” You said as you both made your way to Ground Beta the sound of fighting getting louder. When you got there both Bakugo and Izuku were rushing to each other. Izuku was sending kicks while Bakugo sends explosion after explosion to his classmate. 

You step forward ready to stop the fight when All Might puts his hand in front “Shouldn’t you stop them All Might?” You questioned.

“These two have both been holding in a lot. It may not seem the best but they need to let the steam out.” He explained as Izuku was flung into some railing barely dodging Bakugo’s blast. You nodded your stomach dropping every time one of the boys was hit or thrown to the ground. Izuku and Bakugo in the air when Bakugo flipped them over so Izuku was closer to the ground sending an explosion that hurtles them to the ground. The strength of the blast sent debris everywhere some heading to you and All Might but you put up a barrier to protect you both. When the smoke cleared Bakugo was sitting over Izuku holding him down, both of them covered in scratches and cuts trying to catch their breaths.

“That’s it… We’re done here- I won this fight.” Bakugo pants pressing Izuku into the ground more making him groan. “You have All Might’s power, but even using his strength, even after making it your own, somehow you still managed to lose to me. Why?” He huffs looking down at his classmate. “How could you lose?” He demands squeezing harder onto Izuku's face and that’s when you had enough. Energy surrounds Bakugo and Izuku’s bodies and you pull them away from each other putting them at a safe distance.

“Stop this right now. Both of you.” All Might says to them. They both look up and see you and All Might Izuku is surprised seeing his mentor and cousin and Bakugo is shocked seeing you. You could barely look at them upset with them and at yourself why did things have to be so difficult. You couldn’t choose sides being pulled into two opposite directions, Izuku being your family and Bakugo being your friend or maybe more. “I’m sorry. But I heard what you’ve said.” All Might apologizes walking towards the two of them you behind him.

“All Might.” Bakugo breathes out glancing over to you.

“When’d you both get here?” Izuku groans

“I didn’t notice before. I should have.” All Might says and Bakugo looks away

“It’s too late now. Why did you pick Deku?” Bakugo asks the three of you to look at the blonde. “It started when the sludge villain came, didn’t it. So why him?” You didn’t know Bakugo’s side of that whole event but when Izuku explained how he got his quirk from All Might that was included as well.

“He was powerless. But still more heroic than anyone else. I knew you were strong. That much was obvious. You were someone who could already fight. So, I decided that he should have the chance to stand in the ring.” All Might explained walking over to stand in front of Bakugo.

“But now you know I’m weak, too.” Bakugo chokes out you could hear him try to hold back tears, “I always wanted to be like you, which meant being as strong as possible. But look what I did to you. Look what I did to Y/n she has those scars because of me. Because I’m not good enough.” You bring your hand up to where your scars are; they were faded but the memories still lie there.

“This is not your fault, Young Bakugo. I was always going to lose my power. You couldn’t do anything to change that. You are strong. But I focused too much on your physical strength and overlooked what was important. This isn’t your burden.” All Might places a hand on a shaky Bakugo pulling him into his chest letting him cry. “I apologize. Sometimes I forget that you’re children.” Bakugo pushes away from All Might, his forehead creased, squeezing his eyes shut so no tears fall. “After being a hero for so many years, you learn a few things. Striving to be the best, like you, Young Bakugo. And caring deeply about people about reducing people like you, young Midoriya.” He looks at Bakugo before turning to Izuku, “Both of those feelings are necessary in a hero. Otherwise, they’ll never truly be able to represent justice. That’s why you admire his strength so much, Young Midoriya. And I know that’s why you’ve always feared his heart and spirit, Young Bakugo. Now that you’ve laid your feelings out on the table, maybe you can understand each other. If you have mutual respect and focus on making one another stronger, I’ve no doubt you’ll become the ultimate heroes, winning and saving people at the same time.”

Both Izuku and Bakugo look at each other. Bakugo looks at the ground and sighs, “Dammit. That’s not what I wanted to hear.” he falls back to sitting on the ground pouting. “You. You had the strongest guy in the world lay the groundwork for you. Don’t you dare lose again.”

Izuku nods “I’ll work harder so that I can beat you.”

“Okay, so talk. Who knows about you two?” Bakugo asks Izuku and All Might. 

“Recovery Girl and Principal Nezu do. As far as students go.. Only you.” All Might says

“Um about that, Izuku told me about this before all this so” You add and Bakugo looks at you shocked that you didn’t tell him and you knew before. “It was after Kamino Ward, he’s my cousin you think I wouldn’t know if he suddenly had a quirk after being quirkless for years.” All Might and Bakugo nodded at your explanation.

“And you don’t want this to get out. ‘Cause that would be bad. Don’t worry your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone what’s going on. Unlike Deku, I can keep my mouth shut. This will stay between us.”

Izuku looks over to Bakugo “Thanks, Kacchan.”

“I don’t deserve this. I should be down on my hands and knees begging for you to keep this secret for me. Yet here you are, being considerate and helping me out. Thank you.” All Might thanks the two of you.

“I’m not doing it for you. It would be a real pain if this got out and messed stuff up.” Bakugo stands up looking at you both of your faces showing different emotions and what you thought.

“Now that it’s come to this, I can explain what happened between me and Young Midoriya. That’s only fair.” And with that All Might told Bakugo his whole backstory parts of it you knew from when Izuku told you but more details being added into the story. “We all should be heading back, Aizawa probably waiting.” All Might said and the three of you nodded making your way back.

You walked down the main street All Might in front of the three of you Izuku to your right and Bakugo to your left. “If this got out people would be confused and they’d start wondering where the power is. You idiot. What were you thinking when you first told me about it?” Bakugo scoffs at Izuku, making him frown.

“It was my own choice to use up the last of my abilities. I said this earlier, but that was in no way your fault.” All Might said to Bakugo as you all kept walking  

“Yeah sure. It doesn’t change what I have to do.” All Might looks back to the three of you.

“True. You’re right about that.”

“Things aren’t going to be the same, though, Deku. You got that?” Bakugo looks past you to your cousin, “You’ve been watching me and everyone around you, absorbing what you see to get stronger. Well, I can do the exact same thing and keep getting better myself. I’ll go higher than even you, Chosen One.” Bakugo turns his attention to you, “And you just because you don’t have borrowed power doesn’t mean I won’t beat you either, got it.” You and Izuku both nod.

“Right, then I guess I’ll just have  to be better than that.”

“You what?”

“I have to go higher than you.” Izuku brings his hands up, this makes Bakugo upset

“Dammit nerd. I just said I was gonna be the one to surpass you.” He yells at him

“I know! And now I’m saying that I’m gonna go beyond that level.”

“What!?”

“If anything you both should be worried about the person walking between you two, I’m only getting started with expanding how strong my quirk is.” You add your two cents in making the situation worse as Bakugo yells at the two of you, and Izuku tries to prove he will be number 1. The rest of the walk back to height’s alliance was spent with Bakugo and Izuku bickering, and you laughing and adding fuel to the fire. When you got back to the dorms let's say it wasn’t pleasant for the two boys.

“You fought the night you finished the preliminary hero licensing exam?” Aizawa had the two tied up in his capture weapon, and when he looked pissed before you left those two would be dead if looks could kill, “I’m glad to see that you two have so much energy.”

“Aizawa, wait, hold up with those restraints. It’s my fault that they sparred in the first place.”

“You’re fault? And how is that?” Aizawa shoots glares at the two boys. Izuku looks like he is going to pass out and Bakugo is just always angry. You were behind All Might standing against the wall. It was awkward for you to be there like this was their problem. You didn’t want to deal with the wrath of Mr. Aizawa. All Might goes over to Aizawa and whispers something into his ear and then Mr. Aizawa loosens his restraints.

“I understand that they felt they had to break the rules. But this isn’t something I can just ignore. There must be a suitable punishment. Who threw the first punch?” You look over at the two if neither of them said anything, so maybe their punishments wouldn’t be worse.

“I did.” Bakugo rolls his eyes and you facepalm. This idiot is dead.

“I also went pretty hard. It wasn’t just him.” Izuku added.

“You’re both on house arrest. Four days for Bakugo, three for Midoriya. During that time, you’ll clean all the common areas in the dorm, morning and night. Plus I want a written apology,” Aizawa yells at the two bringing back his capture weapon around his neck, “If your injuries need to be checked out, head to the infirmary. But don’t rely on the old Lady’s quirk this time. Figure out a way to heal yourselves.” He finishes his scolding and sighs, “That’s all. Go.” You all nodded thank Aizawa and left. All Might said his goodbyes, leaving the three of you to head to your dorm rooms.

“You both are idiots. Your lucky Mr. Aizawa only gave you house arrest.” You scolded the two as you got in the elevator pressing the second floor and the fourth floor button.

“Yeah whatever.” Bakugo scoffed looking away. The door opened and Izuku walked out saying goodnight the door closing again before moving to your and Bakugo’s floor.

“I’m sorry I never asked how you were feeling.” you said both of you we’re looking forward now that Izuku was gone the atmosphere was weird between the two of you.

“Tch it’s fine.” Bakugo said. The silence was defending, the only sound filling the elevator was the occasional ding. The elevator stops letting you both out, and Bakugo starts to head to his room and you follow after him. He looks back seeing you follow after him. “What are you doing dumbass.” You both are now side to side.

“I’m going to your room.” You said like it was obvious.

“Yeah why.” He walked faster so you were behind him but you picked up your pace to be next to you.

“Cause I’m gonna help you.” You smiled, both of you standing outside his door.

“I don’t need your help. Goodnight.” He huffed closing the door on your face. You frown hearing him lock the door, leaning your head on the door you heard him shuffle around in his room.

“I’m gonna help you Kacchan whether you like it or not.” You heard him chuckle continuing to move around his room.

“Good luck getting in then.” You huffed looking at the door as if it would open with your stare. You sighed leaning your head on the door, come on think. Just let me in...please. You hear the door click and it swings open and you lift your head up. There was Kacchan sitting on his bed with his shirt off mid-cleaning the scratches he received in his fight staring back at you.

You immediately turn around your bright red face and say, “I’m sorry.” You hear him huffed

“Either get in here or leave. I don’t want anyone walking by.” You nod walking in backwards closing the door still keeping your back to him. “Are you gonna stand there the entire time or help like you said.” You smack your hands against your face pulling yourself together, calm down Y/n you’ve already seen him shirtless when at the pool. Same concept. You turn around keeping your eyes away from his chest walking over and sitting next to him on his bed.

“Jeez Izuku did all this to you.” You hiss looking at the cuts on his face and the very bad bruise on both his arms when he blocked one of his kicks.

“Like he isn’t better, couldn’t even beat me.” He hissed when you wiped around one of his cuts with an alcohol wipe.

“Sorry.” You finished cleaning one of his arms wrapping it in bandages moving to his other arm.

“How did you do it.”

You hear him say and you look up at him, “Do what?” He nudges his head to the door

“The door, how did you open it?” You looked at the door, you thought he opened it.

“I thought you opened it.” Your eyes widened, you just stood outside hoping it would open and then it did.

“Probably that freaky quirk of yours, you're like a witch or something.” He looked over you. You were focused on making sure his cuts were clean and the bandages were secure that he really was able to admire you. You were wrapping the bandage around his arm, a look of focus on your face, you looked tired but you stayed awake to help him. The scars littering up your neck were faded, some of the larger ones like the one running up your neck to right below your ear were more noticeable.

Bringing his hand closer he ran his fingers along your scars you froze looking at him and he pulled away, “It’s fine I just wasn’t expecting it.” He nodded, bringing his hand back running his fingers along your neck while you went to clean the scratches on his face, apologizing each time he hissed in pain from the alcohol wipe.

“I’m sorry you didn’t pass your exam.” You mumbled and he scoffed.

“Don’t give me your pity was my own damn fault.” You nodded placing one more bandage on his face pulling away, moving away to put the medical supplies away.

“What happened during your fight with Gang Orca?” You froze your back was to him but he could tell you were nervous.

“Nothing happened. I can’t really remember most of the fight anyway.” You responded placing the first aid kit under his bed.

“Really cause your face when Sero asked about it at the exam and your lack of a response usually means something did happen.” He scoffed, pulling his shirt back on.

“It’s none of your concern what happened anyway.” You turned around to face him.

“You say that but follow after All Might to me and Deku’s fight that wasn’t your concern, but that’s fine you can do what you want.” He says. Both of you getting frustrated at each other.

“Well If you told me what was going on I wouldn’t have to worry about you. That’s how a relationship works” You said.

“I don’t need to tell you shit, it’s not like I ever asked you to be my girlfriend.” Bakugo stated and you felt your heart drop.

“Well I never wanted to be your girlfriend anyway!” You yelled.

“Fine!”

“Great!” You both yelled at each other. You knew what you were saying was a lie but it hurt even more that he was agreeing with you and that made you even more angry. “Whatever have a great night Bakugo.” You hissed, storming out your anger boiling that you didn’t have control of your quirk for a moment.

In that few seconds the door slammed open and then behind you, a few of the items in his room fell off the shelves or his desk. In that moment the last thing Bakugo saw of you before the door closed was you covered in a dark red aura, a completely new energy coming from you.

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

When It’s Love- Joe x Reader

(One day in August of 2020 my favorite Van Halen song came on the radio and suddenly I was harassed by this idea so badly I screamed. True story. Anyway, here’s some more extremely reflective internal conflict romantic flash Joe fic. I put a LOT of work into this whole post ((including the first illustration)) so I really hope you like it! I had a lot of fun writing this bc of the imagery and descriptions of everything. You’ll see...)

(illustration(s) by @paper-sxn​ and myself)

Words: 2,798

Prompt: nah just read it and find out ^-^

-----

August 26th, 1988. Dublin, Ireland

The door on the rooftop of the restaurant opened, and a tall, anxious-looking man in a red suit walked out alone. He ran a hand through his dirty-blonded mullet, and shut the door behind him. Blowing out a breath, he walked up to the bar to order a single brandy. The bartender wouldn't have noticed it, but the casual, quiet tone the man used wasn't normal for him. It wasn't a facade, either; it was nothing but genuine.

He took the drink with much gratitude, slipped the bartender a bill, and told her to keep the change. She thanked him sweetly before turning up the volume on her small radio behind the counter.

The song that played proceeded to strike the man right in the heart.

"Of course," he thought with an exhausted and amused grin, "Perfect timing."

When he turned around with his glass, he was met with a glorious sunset of the late summer. Nothing but warm, soon-to-be-gold light engulfed him. He took notice of how it passed through his glass and the liquid inside of it. He gazed at the liquor for a moment, but he did not drink it.

Meanwhile, the small radio behind the bar was sounding off with a bit of static, "Everybody's looking for something, something to fill in the holes..."

Joe walked in a straight line. His left hand slipped into his pocket to anxiously fidget with whatever contents were inside of his famed red suit.

He'd only dressed up to this current degree just to make sure his outfit would be pleasing to you tonight. It was everything to him; this loudly colored look always held a place in his heart- and in yours. Hell, your relationship had begun partially because of it. The suit itself still held up in its style after all this time. Joe knew it was tacky enough, yet dapper enough for a date. It turned on his gentleman mode, which is what he suspected he needed the most right now.

He was your gentleman, after all. Just the thought of being yours made the edges of his mouth curl upwards into a bashful smile.

The singer, who was on break from tour for a short while, chose to focus this smile at the horizon before him. The slow and leisurely steps he took made him reach the edge of the rooftop where there was a ledge for him to put his drink down.

He smoothed his increasingly trembling hands over the cold cement of this ledge. He tapped all of his fingers against it. He crossed his arms on top of it.

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes when he let it rush out.

The smile on his lips remained as he did this, pondering on what you were probably doing back downstairs at your table. Dinner had recently ended, so you were probably tapping your fingers as Joe was currently doing, looking around for him, and looking around in your purse.

Joe also pondered on what you could've been thinking about, too. He didn't have any guesses, but he knew without a single doubt in his mind that you were not thinking of the same thing he was.

He was thinking of time, and how he could not waste it.

This Leppard- shrouded in his red cloth- knew he couldn't spend more than a few minutes up here. Yet, he wanted to get one last look around before returning to you.

Picturing his return made him silently chuckle to himself. He had never felt so happy to be thinking of you- never in his whole life.

"We think a lot, but don't talk much about it..."

He picked up the brandy, and took a small sip of it. The sweetness of it spread over his tongue as he immediately associated the flavor with a memory of you. It was tranquilizing almost immediately.

Nerves were a tricky thing to deal with. Luckily, Joe knew there was a less tricky solution for this.

Joe also knew he was currently on the wagon for the duration of this tour. It was for his own good- and the tour's own good- but he needed to make a quick exception for himself. Despite whatever guilt he may have felt while sipping his drink, he knew damn well that it was an essential exception he had to make.

"Til things get out of control..."

The only other occupants of the rooftop lounge- a couple sitting and chatting at a table some yards away- subtly captured Joe's attention. He turned his head to look at them, and again, he smiled to himself. Again, you overwhelmed his mind. Seeing this couple be a match together- a duo, a pair- it only reminded him more of how head over heels he was in his own way.

He also lingered on how much he loved the sight and feeling of being in a duo of his own, too. He could only imagine if you two looked as good as these strangers did from afar.

"Oh! How do I know when it's love? I can't tell you, but it lasts forever..."

Chills suddenly trickled down his spine, and Joe shivered. Something different was in the air.

"Oh! How does it feel when it's love? It's just something you feel together, when it's love..."

He felt his head jerk back towards the sunset, and an intense wave of nostalgia washed over him. The heart within his ruby suit plunged deep into his stomach, but was resurrected instantly.

The soft green eyes of the singer were frozen- fixed on the premature descent of the sun. His clean-shaven jaw fell slightly open at the sensation running through his veins.

"This is it..." Joe whispered.

He now found himself unable to move with goosebumps forming underneath the layers he wore. This was strange to him, since he had been close to overheated for the whole meal with you.

Slowly, he felt his hand go back into his pocket. He closed his fingers around the small shape inside, and he removed it with more caution than if he were handling a grenade.

"You look at every face in a crowd, some shine and some keep you guessing..."

Without looking at it, he rubbed his thumb over the soft covering and placed it inches from his drink.

"Waiting for someone to come into focus..."

With the same carefulness, Joe lowered his eyes to observe the layout before him. Just like that, all minuscule details of what he saw jumped out at him without warning. Every spec of concrete on the ledge was suddenly visible, every single ray of light the glass refracted was defined, every single line of his skin was ingrained into his retinas, and every microscopic hair on the small surface of the object was magnified. It was as if he were now looking at an iconic still life in a museum. If he were to frame this sight right then and there, he was sure it would be priceless.

For as long as he lived, Joe knew he would never forget this exact moment. The temperature, the wind, the colors, and the air; he'd forever be able to instantly recall them. Every detail was priceless.

"Teach you your final love lesson."

Joe took a photograph of the moment with his vision when he felt tears of joy begin to sting behind his eyes.

"No-" Joe said to himself as he frantically clasped his eyes into a squint and pinched the bridge of his nose, "No, not now... c'mon..."

A faint reverberation of your voice rang through his head like a clear, concise ring of a bell, "Yeah, c'mon sweetie. Not now..."

He looked back up at the sunset while blowing out a breath, and took another quick sip of his drink. Even in the most private of reflective moments, his conscience always had a habit of manifesting your reactions. You were always there to him; he couldn't live without you.

"You can't waste any more time up here..." your voice said more clearly, as if you were right next to him, "You know that."

"Can't waste any more time..." Joe said aloud to himself again with a shake of his head. He hastily hid the small item back in his pocket.

"How do I know when it's love? I can't tell you, but it lasts forever..."

Joe knew damn well he couldn't photograph this moment, despite how badly he wanted to. If only he could capture this new level of existence in some way...

He still couldn't see you, but he heard your voice, "Work with what you're given, Joey. Use your head. Use your hands..."

Joe's eyebrows perked up at the spontaneous idea 'you' gave him. Looking around, his eyes soon located a napkin on the table of the nearby couple. He knew he'd have to be quick, lest the real you suspected something of his absence. The imaginary scenario of your suspicion was enough to make him feel the same shiver of anxiety again.

Despite the nerves surrounding him, it was still the best thing he had ever felt.

A small voice of his conscience told him you were able to feel it, too. Perhaps, back down in the restaurant, you, too, were feeling a shiver down your spine.

"Oh! How does it feel when it's love? It's just something you feel together..."

Joe knew this internal voice; it was an emotion. He knew by pure intuition that everything it said was true. As it got closer to him, he felt his heart speed up. He knew the moment was getting even closer.

Your imaginary voice was back in his ears, "Don't worry, honey. I can feel it, too."

"Sweet Y/n," he whispered aloud as he shut his eyes against the setting sun, "Darling Y/n, don't you realize what's about to happen?"

No sound of you came closer. Instead, he felt your hand caress his face. When he opened his eyes, a vision of you was finally standing there with him.

You told him one word.

"Yes."

You vanished from Joe's conscience instantly with that syllable. It gave him enough confidence to set himself into motion.

Going through with his plan, the fidgety Leppard strode over to the sitting couple, asking if he could snag their spare napkin. They granted him permission, leading Joe to head back over to the bar counter.

After obtaining a pen from the bartender, he began to write.

He didn't write much, but he wrote what he felt he needed to. The vivid, mindful memory of the rooftop ledge was stored into every letter he scribbled down. If he couldn't take a picture of the feeling, he knew he'd have the next best thing.

The pen lifted from the napkin, and Joe fought to control his smile.

He took his napkin and drink back to the ledge after returning the pen. Holding up what he had written in front of him, he engraved the new sight of it into his memory instead.

"August 26th, 1988:" the cloth read, "Our lives are about to change forever."

He was immensely satisfied with it; the last object to be created in what would soon be his 'old' life.

"Oh, when it's love... you can feel it, yeah!"

Joe repeated his own written word, and the word the mirage of you had told him, "Forever... yes."

Lowering the napkin, Joe was face to face with the horizon. It was constantly changing color, but each transition was more and more radiant. The evening was perfect; nothing could've gone more correctly for him.

Well, maybe one more thing could still go correctly for him.

"Nothing's missing, yeah!"

A simple yet powerful guitar solo reached the far edge of the roof where he stood. It was rather funny to him. It reflected his plan a little too well; simple, yet powerful.

You both had always ended your meals at this restaurant by going up to the roof for a drink. No other place on earth screamed of you and Joe more than that rooftop did. Your dinner was over, so it was almost time to head up. It was routine, and it was unquestionable. It was simple; it was powerful.

There was a sudden burning in Joe's pocket- a burning sense of raw and extraordinary power. Joe quickly reached his hand back inside to pull out the object he'd placed on the ledge before.

“Yeah, you can feel it! Oh, when it’s love...”

He held it in front of him and fixed his eyes over its whole surface area. He found it hard to believe he was given control of such heavenly power, all delicately concealed within the case in his hand. It was the sword in the stone, but only you could wield it.

And that moment when you wielded it had to be perfect.

"Can't waste any more time," Joe gasped. His fingers clasped over the piece in his hand, he closed his eyes in reverence, and slowly touched it to his lips.

"When nothing's missing!"

Joe privately declared with his lips against the small, soft surface, "Nothing's missing."

"How do I know when it's love? I can't tell you, but it lasts forever..."

Joe re-filled his pockets without looking at any of the contents. The napkin and the soft-covered object both disappeared into the scarlet suit, and the remainder of his brandy disappeared into his mouth. Before he took the finishing sip, however, he raised his glass to the sunset in a private toast accompanied with a wink. Only one word was needed to make such a toast.

"Forever."

"Ooh, how does it feel when it's love? It's just something you feel together, hey!”

The glass was returned, and all things were finally in place.

“How do I know when it’s love? I can’t tell you, but it lasts forever- when it’s love...”

Just as Joe turned in the direction of the door he came from, he stopped dead and reached back into his pocket. There was one last thing he didn't take a final look at; one very small thing.

"Hey! It lasts forever...! When it's love..."

He pulled out the deep-colored item yet again. Only this time, instead of admiring its surface, he opened it.

The glorious star within was now admiring him.

"You and I, we're gonna feel the same together- when it's love..."

Each twinkle and every finest detail of it was, in every way, flawless. It matched the very twinkle in your eye Joe knew you'd bear once you finally witnessed it yourself.

"Ooh when it's love, baby..."

Joe believed it bittersweet that this would be his very last chance to gaze upon the raw, divine power before he decided to activate it.

"You can feel it, yeah!"

The second Joe would conceal the item again, he knew he would not be allowed to look at it anymore. There was a destiny for this particular object. It beheld a future so great, so magnificent, that Joe himself would not be able to look directly at it when the moment came. He wasn't chosen for an honor such as that.

The only person who was destined to see this divine piece in action... was you.

It was you, and only you; forever. And the greatest part- you did not suspect a single thing.

Sucking back the happy and nervous tears he felt coming on, Joe closed the small box and put it back into his pocket. His hand remained on top of it as he turned away from the sunset to go back downstairs. His fingers continued to rub over its surface, and he could feel the radiant force within it. It had the ability to permanently change your lives, and that's the exact power he was about to bestow upon you.

As he opened the door to head back down to you, his nerves threatened to make him freeze again. His heart vibrated in his chest as the magic of the item within the box engulfed him.

"We'll make it last forever!"

Joe's hand squeezed the edge of the door as he just barely glimpsed the now-radiant sunset. He was aware that the time had come.

It was, at long last, about to happen. Your lives were about to change forever. It was becoming real; it was becoming perfect.

Finally, after so long, Joe could say with complete confidence that he knew the name of the strongest feeling that had ever engrossed him.

Oddly enough, that feeling also shared your name.

"Ooh, it's love."

Joe squeezed the tiny, sublime box in his pocket. He whispered to himself just before he shut away the glory of the impending dusk:

"With this ring... I thee wed."

The end

(When It’s Love by Van Halen)

[lovelywingsart]

Forgotten Memory

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

So I did a few sketches of Emelia meeting the other lords(and Dimitrescu daughters) a while ago, and I threw in a little something for the Moreau one- well, here's what's basically the small follow-up that I teased for that one.

**Small reminder that I have a small 'Masterlist' for these!**

---------

*Warning?: Lost/regained memory, mentions of wanted parenthood, angst kinda?

Summary: A small, interesting discovery is made during a first visit to Lord Moreaus domain, leading to a heartbreaking revelation.

Emelia was silent. They had returned from her first visit with Moreau, and she had to admit, the 'Fish Man' was kind and rather fun to be around despite Heisenbergs dislike of him. The metal man in question sat at a separate table behind her, tinkering with what she could assume was an experimental piece for the Soldats with his hair in it's normal 'bun' for physical work. But her focus wasn't on him. No, it was on the tape Moreau had excitedly let her borrow. It lay on the corner of the table she had been sitting at, and though she had previously been sketching plans, she was unable to concentrate. Simply finding it at the watermill sent a chill of recognition down her spine, and she couldn't get that familiarity out of her head. It was as if it triggered... something. But she didn't know what, exactly. The cover of the movie alone was scarily familiar, but... she didn't know.

And so, here she sat in silence, staring at the cover of the yellowed and somewhat grimy case, picking at her brain for any possible lead. Not even the occasional German swearing behind her shook her from the concentrated phase she was in as Heisenberg caused a tiny shock among the wires he was currently fiddling with. She had been staring at it since she picked it up... She barely looked away from it on the way back to the factory, nearly tripping over multiple things while Heisenberg practically led her around. But she couldn't quite put her finger on why it was so familiar.

She was suddenly jerked out of her trance as she heard a rather loud 'FUCK', and she turned to see Heisenberg looking at his hand.

"Are you alright...?" She asked quietly. He shook his head, sticking a bleeding finger in his mouth.

"Eh, I'm fine... damn thing shifted on me." He muttered. She was silent for a moment, seemingly spacing out until she spoke again.

"Would you like a bandage...?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." He shrugged, inspecting the digit once more before looking at the thing on his desk. "Wouldn't be the first time I've had the threat of losing a body part." His tone was almost thoughtful as he shifted his left leg. He then turned to face her. "What the hell is with YOU, anyway? You haven't stopped staring at that thing since we left the ugly freak. Usually you'd yell at me to wear gloves."

"Because you should..." Emelia rolled her eye slightly, "And he's a kind man, Karl. Don't be mean." she huffed, shaking her head as he muttered something under his breath. "No, I... I'm fine. Just thinking, is all."

"Ah. Well, don't hurt yourself." He smirked, turning back to his work as she glared at him.

"Twit..." she muttered, her eyes drifting back to the tape. She swore there was something about it...

She finally reached for it, holding it somewhat close to her face. She studied every detail. Every curve of the title letters. Every bit of the scenery. It wasn't until she turned it around to read the back that she paused, her brain picking out a few words to focus on. She simply closed her eye for a moment, only for something... a scene... to flash in her mind;

A woman stood in bright, almost entirely white scenery, holding a small child on her hip. Her other hand held that of an older child, and the childs other hand was held by a man. They seemed... happy. But she couldn't tell... The faces were simple blurs. She could only tell by the distant sound of laughter as the man and woman embraced, the two children huddling to them with giggles. The woman, she noticed, wore her hair longer with a ponytail to the side. No other features were clear. There was a sadness as the scene began to fade away, even as she desperately tried to clear the faces of the individuals.

Emelia jerked into reality once more with a gasp, making the man behind her jump with a startled swear.

"Fucking-" He started, shaking his hand again before looking at her with an irritated grunt. "What now???"

She stared at the tape in silence for a few seconds more before setting it down carefully and pushing herself to stand.

"N-Nothing, I..." she started, her voice wavering just slightly. Heisenbergs irritation all but disappeared as he watched her, switching to confusion.

"Emelia? What's wrong?" He asked, but she shook her head.

"I-I'm fine, I..." she tried, finally just running her hand through her hair and walking towards the door off to the side. "I'm just... tired. I'm going to sleep."

"... Oh." He replied, his confusion still evident. "Make sure you wake up, then."

She couldn't help but crack a small smile. It was always his way of saying 'sleep well'.

"I'll try."

~

Oddly enough, the bed wasn't too comfortable.

Emelia lay on her back, her arms behind her head while staring up at the dark ceiling. She had changed into her casual 'night' attire, thinking she could think better with the light off... But it only clouded her mind. The scene she saw kept playing in her mind. Who were these people? Why did she see them?? She let out a frustrated groan, moving her hands to rub her face. It had to have been a memory, right...? Was she one of the children? Was she remembering her family before this? Of course she had remembered small things as a child, merely second-long snippets of a foggy past that still wasn't entirely clear. COULD she have been one of the children?? While the thought should have calmed her, it only made her question more. If it WAS her original family, why couldn't she see the faces? She should have at least been able to remember her own... Not to mention the scenery itself was entirely different than she ever remembered... None of her memories were ever pure light. Something wasn't sitting right... But she thought back to the children she saw. They were happy... Laughing. They were all laughing a pleasant laugh, even the two adults, who she assumed were the parents. It was the joy of the scene that managed to calm her, and she couldn't help but chuckle from the silliness of it all.

She froze.

Wait.

She gave a confused hum, almost trying to repeat the chuckle. She then thought back to the memory, watching and rewatching the scene in her head, her muscles suddenly tense. Her attention was soon drawn to the woman. The woman's laugh seemed familiar as her face slowly became visible. Almost TOO familiar. It was almost like... Wait, that... Was...

No.

She bolted into an upright position once she saw the womans face clearly, her eye wide as the scene suddenly became uncomfortably clear.

The adult woman was HER.

But why?? HOW???

She threw the covers off her legs and pushed herself away from the bed, nearly ripping the door open with a burst of strength. She nearly ran down the steps, her breathing halted. How could that have been her? How could those memories be hers? She was older in that scene than she remembered to previously have been before all of this, and there was very clearly no sign of childbearing on her own body that she saw or knew of. Hell, she never thought she had BEEN with anyone like 'that' until recently, how could-

She startled Heisenberg once more as she pushed open the door to the workshop, making him jump as she briskly made her way back to the desk she had been sitting at. He spoke to her, but she couldn't hear him as she grabbed the tape and stared at it. Her... A family... Smiling, happy...

Another vision played in her mind, this one she had been familiar with. She was a child, tugging the apron of what she always assumed was her mother. 'Can we? Please?' Her small voice asked. She was a quiet child, that much she assumed from the memories she had unlocked before. She was already greeted with a kind smile as her faceless mother nodded. This memory she had seen, and it was always the same; she led the mother over, sitting on a fluffy couch in front of a large TV. A movie always played, but she couldn't see it... Until now. It was the same movie she currently physically held. But something changed... It was as if a new reel of film was cleaned in her mind, and she saw herself look up at the mother she cuddled to at the point where the memory would have cut off. 'I want a family like that!' She heard herself say excitedly. 'Just like that?' The mother asked, her voice warped somewhat. Emelia watched her child self nod. 'Yeah, a big one, just like that.'

It was then that the previous image of her older self played, vaguely hearing her child-self speak of her own family hopes over the laughter. And that's when it hit her with a wave of brokenhearted nausea. THAT'S why it was so bright... So happy... The vision wasn't a 'memory' at all. No...

It was a DREAM.

A dream...

No.

It was a goal.

A life goal her child-self had.

A goal stripped mostly once she joined the corporation before being taken Miranda years later. A goal that Miranda herself had more or less stripped ENTIRELY with no hope of settling down as soon as that goddamn parasite was embedded into her chest.

An important goal she had entirely forgotten about until now.

The realization hit her like a head-on impact from Sturm, and she dropped the tape. Her eye was wide, staring at seemingly nothing as her breaths came in quiet wheezes. She didn't even know she was crying until she felt a hand on her shoulder, jumping out of her thoughts with a gasp and whirling to meet the concerned face of Heisenberg. He seemed to jump back as well, startled to see face that pure sadness and anger. She could almost hear the memories of singing as she stared at him, her body trembling.

"Emmy??" He asked, taking his hand from her shoulder as if he himself had caused the tears that now streamed down her cheek. She was silent for a moment before her lip trembled.

"I... I remember..." she whimpered, taking deep breaths. Heisenberg paused before suddenly pressing on her shoulders.

"Sit." He said quickly, turning away to grab his own chair as she sat carefully. He brought the chair up in front of hers, sitting directly across from her. "What do you remember?" He asked, his voice genuine as he watched her. She forced herself to speak.

"Do... D-Do you remember... Uhm..." she paused with a shaky breath in attempts not to start sobbing immediately. She HAD to calm herself... "Do you remember when I... When I told you about that memory... The one when I was a child and the movie...?"

"I do... That was months ago." He replied, tilting his head. "What about it?"

"Th-There's... There's more..." she nodded to the tape on the table. "It... It was that... and... a-and..."

She finally broke down, covering her mouth as she let out a wavering sob. She nearly curled in on herself, only stopped by Heisenbergs hands on her shoulders. He then gently grabbed her face, leaning forward and making her look at him.

"Hey... Hey, look at me." He spoke. His jaw tightened as her eye met his, and he saw a painful recognition. "What the hell did that tape do?"

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally opening her mouth.

"... I... I wanted a family, Karl..." she whimpered.

He froze.

'Family'.

It was a word he grew to despise over the years. He hated it. He hated it with a burning, goddamn passion. The meaning of it was lost to time and trauma, and yet it sounded... innocent coming from her. It wasn't malicious like Miranda, or insulting like Alcina. It didn't even sound like a pathetic joke as it would have with Donna or Moreau. There was true pain behind the word as she spoke it, and he frowned as he watched her break down in front of him despite clearly attempting to hold it together. She always told him her memories... Hell, he encouraged her too. He knew what it was like, and he hated the thought of the same happening to her. But this time, he didn't know what to do. 'Family' was a sore subject around the factory. She let out a shaky sigh.

"I-I'm sorry, I..."

"No, no, just... Don't..." he started, only to sigh, himself. "Damn it-... Come here."

Emelia froze as Heisenberg pulled her into an awkward hug, though it wasn't enough to stop the tears. Instead, she reached up to hold his arms while her head threatened to fall onto his shoulder. He was silent for a moment, feeling as she almost curled to him, only stopped by the chairs. He couldn't quite think of anything to say. Nothing to help. Not even anything witty.

"... Keep talking." He said finally, feeling her breath halt.

"... What...?"

"I said, keep talking. Tell me about it... I guess." He managed. He felt her head shift while she managed to breath enough to sniffle.

"Is that a joke..." she asked quietly. He rolled his eyes.

"You really think I'd joke about that?"

"... Do you really want me to answer that..."

"Just keep talking, Emelia." He groaned. She was quiet before letting out a shaky breath and speaking.

"I-I... I remember..." she started, clearing her throat slightly and sniffling once more, "I remember begging her to watch it... I guess she never argued... Not that I could tell."

"Hm." He hummed quietly, setting his chin on top of her head. "How many times did you watch it, then?"

"I... I'm not sure... A lot, I suppose...?" Her voice was quiet as she sighed. "All I can hear is singing, I don't know..."

He raised a brow.

"Singing??"

"Shush..." she mumbled, earning a chuckle.

"So what does that have to do with wanting..." he paused. Hell, SAYING the word felt like poison to him... But she knew. She took a shaky breath before pushing away from him, wiping furiously at her eye as she sat back in her chair. She looked over at the tape for a moment with a frown.

"I told her I wanted a family..." she managed, reaching to pick up the tape and turning it over. "'A big one just like them', I told her... I guess I loved it enough to dream of it. Children, a husband... I suppose I could have had... SOMETHING like that with the corporation, but... NOW..." Her voice then gained a hint of bitterness as she leaned forward to put her head in her hand while holding the tape with the other. "It's impossible thanks to HER... And yet, I feel as if I still want it, now that I know..." The sadness quickly turned into a hint of anger as she lightly tossed the tape back on to the table. She was unable to stop the new flow of tears that started, glancing at her right arm. "Bloody hell... How damn stupid am I... A goddamn 'family' from THIS bloody mess..."

Heisenberg was quiet for once, watching as she wiped at her face furiously once more. What the hell was he even SUPPOSED to say to that?? That she was right?? No, he wasn't actively trying to upset her... Maybe he would joke normally, but even he knew that now wasn't the time. Oh, hell...

"Don't be hasty, Emmy. You've, ah... you've got a lot of life to live." He spoke awkwardly, clearing his throat slightly. "Or... um... something."

He jerked back as Emelia gave a disbelieving snort before choking back a sob as she looked to the movie again.

"'Or something'... Not like anyone would be willing to contribute while I'm like this..." she muttered, not seeing the look he gave with her voice still bitter as she frowned with a trembling lip. "That bitch stole every hope I had of being normal... I can barely remember everything still, and yet this is what I get when I do..." her voice lowered, but cracked with a mixture of pain and anger. It was a mix Heisenberg himself knew all too well. "I wanted a family and she tore that away for her own..."

"You could still-" he started, only to stop and snap his mouth shut as she looked up at him. What the fuck was he just about to say?

"I could still WHAT, Karl...??" Her voice was nearly pleading as she looked up at him. "Even if I tried, she'd still... She'd..."

She had to breathe. It felt as if her chest was collapsing in on itself as she doubled over with a sudden gasping sob. She was robbed... The life she once dreamed about wasn't at all possible. Even if she tried. Even if she somehow found a way, she knew it would be ripped from her again by the woman in selfish attempts to fix her own 'family'. And yet, she felt the distant longing she remembered feeling as a child... It wasn't until she felt arms around her once more that she started to look up, only to be nearly yanked off the chair as she was hugged with a sudden force and nearly brought into the man's lap.

"Don't say that." He growled quietly, making her freeze. "You still have a goddamn chance. Fuck Miranda and fuck her plans, she's not gonna do anything if you do." He paused for a moment. "She CAN'T do anything if you do, because I won't fucking let her."

Emelia froze in his arms, decently stunned. She said nothing, though couldn't help but curl into his shoulder as she fought off more tears. She knew he did it to make her feel better... And that's what seemed to hurt the most. He wasn't the most affectionate or reassuring person, especially with this. Sure, he had his odd ways of giving comfort, but it was never easy for either of them. But she managed to take a few breaths, returning the hug somewhat as he set his chin on her head. There was silence for a few moments before the reached out with a trembling hand and picked up the tape, looking at the cover with a light fondness despite her anger.

"... I think I'll visit Moreau tomorrow..." she said quietly, almost feeling his look of disgust.

"Why??"

"Unless you would like to watch it with me." She said simply, glancing up at him. He seemed to calm slightly, but still shook his head.

"You sure watching that is the best idea?" He asked, releasing his hold on her slowly. It was as if he didn't want to let go. She shrugged, wiping at her face.

"Potentially not, but... I don't know..." she sighed, pushing herself back on her own chair. She almost smiled as Heisenberg kept a gentle hold on her arms. "Maybe... maybe it would help... He said it was one of his favorites as well, I think it would be nice to have... willing company."

"I wouldn't be 'willing'?"

"Would you REALLY be, Karl?"

He raised a brow for a moment before giving a huff, but he didn't speak. She couldn't help but give a laughing snort before sniffling. It was then that another thought entered her mind, and she pondered over if for a few seconds, chewing the inside of her cheek.

"I think I'm going to get dressed." She said finally, slowly standing from the chair. She was met with a confused stare.

"I thought you said you were tired?" Heisenberg asked, watching as she walked to the door with the tape clutched in her hands. She paused to look back at him for a moment.

"Oh, I am. But now I'm more angry than I am tired." She said simply. "Have you got any disposable Soldats?"

She felt a little better as she watched a broad, toothy grin form on his face.

"I can figure something out." He said, suddenly standing and moving over to his desk to grab something. "Go ahead, I'll meet you down there."

Emelia only nodded, going through the door quickly. She knew it might not help entirely, but she felt the deep need to destroy despite not showing it on the surface. Whatever he was able to put together, she planned on imagining Miranda's face on every single creature she tore apart while mentally preparing herself for the trip the next day. WOULD watching the movie help? Would it assist with more memories? Or was it the worst idea she had ever had? She didn't know, and she couldn't keep her eye off the case as she retrieved her own clothing. She felt the pulses of her mutation even before she slipped on her own shirt, eventually letting the tendrils of muscle expand and grow along her skin. The bone spurs were the last to form, allowing her to flex and adjust her arm slightly. There was a moment of silence as the muscle hardened, feeling her heart beat against her chest. She took one last look at the tape before letting out a growling huff, letting the anger of the forgotten memories flow through her as she finally walked out the door and ran down to the depths of the factory walls.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Recovering Your Catfish: Changes

Summary- 1.6k Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader. Being back home after the ill fated trip trying to cross the Andes has left your Frankie a different man. While he deals with the trauma, you are there to remind him he still has you. Thick and thin, you are with him the entire way. 

Warnings- None except uncomfortable flashbacks. 

A/N- this was just an indulgence @babiiface95​ has dragged me into for this man. I have no idea how accurate any of this will be, its pure just my fantasy with it. Also I have no clue why, but I see him living in Louisiana, so again I self indulged and that’s where home is for him. 

“We’re not dropping the money! Push it, it can go over that ridge.” 

“Fuck off Tom, you cant get this thing over it without blowing one of the engines.” 

“Get it done.” Tom grunted at him and Frank pushed the lever, making the Mil Mi-8 helicopter shake and rattle. Then it popped, the levers on the dash spinning out of control. They pushed it too hard. 

They were going down. 

“Frankie! Frankie wake up.” Gentle hands cupped his face and his eyes sprang open to a moonlit dim room filled with the rattling sound of an old AC unit trying its best to combat the midsummer bayou heat and failing miserably. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, but all he could feel was the permanent deep chill of the Andes that was forever ingrained in Franks memory. “Its a dream baby, your home.” 

“Fuck Y/N, I’m sorry.” He groaned, his hand raising to cover his eyes as he came back to the present. 

“It's okay. You were just mumbling in your sleep.” You smile softly and your touch turns to one that smooths along his cheek, and drops to gentle strokes to the side of his neck and rubbing his earlobes, feeling him start to relax now that he is awake again. In this lighting his brown eyes seemed almost black as he stared up at the ceiling, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. You settle back down next to him, dropping your hand to the center of his chest, which he covers with his own to clutch at it, like he was afraid you were going to let it go. “Do you want to tell me about it?” You offer him, sometimes Frank would share his dream, other times he wouldn't. 

“It was just when our engine blew. If I just had one of them cut that load, we would have made it over that ridge. Tom was so stubborn. Wanted the whole load. I knew it wouldn't make it… but I just kept following orders.” He admitted softly while you shifted in closer regardless of the stifling humidity. 

“All the men heard you Frankie, any of them could have dropped the load . Its not just on you, you warned Tom.” You reminded him softly, knowing he would continue shouldering the blame because he was the pilot. 

Frankie hummed to agree with you, but you knew it was simply to appease you for now. His head tilted to press a kiss against the top of your head. 

You sat outside of the therapist office, the windows rolled down and was sure to park in the shade, occasionally you would sip from your water bottle, waiting. Franks sessions usually ran 45 minutes to an hour and you worked it out so that you were here for him afterwards, he never liked being all alone after them, said that all the thoughts would get overwhelming. You were happy to do this for him and were incredibly proud of how far he had come from when he came home. 

You waited in the little office at Gerald’s Airstrip where Frank worked on and off since retiring from working Delta Force. The man who left on some “secret mission” he wouldn't tell you much about had been hopeful, promising life was changing for the two of you when he returned. 

How right he was. 

When the small plane landed and the door opened, you made your way out of the office. The first off the plane was the youthful face of Benny followed closely by Will, which you smiled and hugged them both tightly as they made their way off the steps. “Im so sorry” You whispered to each of them, a rub to their backs and a step back. “I'm so glad you are home though.” 

“We are to Y/N.” Ben went in for a quick hug once more and you embraced him once more before separating. The two of them splitting from you and you turned back towards the plane to see Frank making his way carefully down the steps and that's when you felt overwhelming relief. Giving a gentle sob, you rushed the last few feet and vaulted at him, hugging him tightly which he welcomed. 

He squeezed you into him and buried his face in your neck just as you did, your fingers clutching at the back of his shirt, taking a shuddering breath, just holding one another for a few moments till you pulled your head up, nuzzling against his ear. “Thank you for making it home Frankie.” “I missed you so much Mon Cherie.” he matched your grasp, like he couldn't lose you, couldn't hold you tight enough to him. Truth be told, after the time he left till he returned home had brought back so many memories of his Delta Force days that you wanted to put it all behind you. For good. No more secret missions, no more worrying if he wasn't going to make it home. Easing back enough to look at him, his hands falling to your hips as you cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing along the smoothness of freshly shaven cheeks. 

“You ready to go home Catfish?” you say his nickname with affection and he nods, his brown eyes softening the way warm chocolate would turn when melted. 

“More then anything please.” 

The therapist’s office door opened and you saw Frank drop his baseball cap lower over his eyes to block some of the midday glare as he made his way across the parking lot where you were parked. You turn the car on and ease out to meet him halfway, which he slipped into the passenger side next to you, going to buckle up. 

You never ask him how it went, Frank needed time to process his own thoughts before he was one to share, you knew he would come to you with it probably over coffee the next day or middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, the dark making it easier to face himself. Instead you treated it like it was a normal day. “I got to stop Breaux Mart for some groceries, want me to drop you off at home?” 

“Nah, I will come with you. We can stop at the fish mart on the way home, on me.” He offered and you nodded with a grin.

“Deal.” 

The market was not too busy, midweek usually wasn't close enough to the weekend for the crowds, which is why you worked your shopping time now along with his therapy sessions. It was all a part of Frank not wanting to be alone afterwards, but did not want to be in the overwhelming presence of people trying to go about there everyday lives, always in a hurry. 

Just like he had hurried through the jungle with his rifle against his shoulder, his heart pounding in his ears as he followed behind his team, spinning on his heels to be sure they were not being followed. The rain was drowning all sound, meaning he had to rely on sight alone. 

Hurry hurry hurry while loading the vehicle. 

His hand shot out and grasped your thigh, overwhelmed searing his chest. You didn't flinch at his sudden movement, just dropped your hand from the steering wheel while waiting at a red light and covered his. 

He didn't have to hurry now, didn't have to have orders screamed at him that it was life and death, they gotta move faster to get out of there. Never again, he was home. 

With you. 

He glanced at you to see you biting at the bottom of your lip as you maneuvered the truck through traffic to the supermarket you preferred to use. Letting go of his hand to use both hands on the wheel when turning. 

“I was thinking about making a lemon layer cake for this weekend.” You kept up an idle conversation, glancing at him. “So don't let me forget the lemons.” 

“No Ma’am, I won’t.” he promised as they both left the truck. Frank grabbed a cart on the way in, and you pulled out your list, steering him towards the vegetable section to start. You picked through leafy greens, picking up bundles and giving a slight shake to lose the excess water before slipping them into a baggie and setting them in the cart. The drizzle of water shot off near Frank making him wince when he felt the spray settle on his skin, closing his eyes to push the memory of rain water drenching him till his clothes clung to him in a suffocating way, heavier from all the rain while running. Even drinking water made him cringe now, remembering the saltier mix of sweat and blood streaming down his face unable to escape the taste of it with fresh rainwater. 

Suddenly he felt your hand slide against his on the cart, pulling his hand into his and giving a squeeze, leading you two away from the spray of the water, towards other vegetables. Somehow you always knew when he needed to be brought back to the here and now. Lifting your hand, he pressed his lips to the back of your hand in a silent thank you while you dropped in a few ears of corn. 

“We can do a boil this weekend if you are up for it.” You draw him back into the here and now. Fuck how did he get lucky to have you. 

“You know I'm never gonna say no to that. We got the seasoning?” he questioned and you give him a light push, laughing. 

“It would be a sin if I didn't have it on hand permanently.” You winked while grabbing other ingredients to use. Approaching the lemons, Frank pauses while grabbing a bag of fresh lemons and you reach to grasp one lightly through the netting, bringing it to your nose to inhale the fresh citrus scent. 

“Just what I needed, thank you.” 

“Anytime Mon Cherie.” 

[timextoxhajima]

Grounded: Level 2

Level 1 | Level 3

Member: Minho (Lee Know)

Genre: idol minho x idol trainee reader, angst cause is it a dana fic if there is no angst

Taglist: @licorice526 @jaehyvnsvalentine @lolwhatameme @felixn-recs​​

[D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 7]

There is an earth-shattering kind of pain in your chest when the staff pushes the door open into the dressing room, and your eyes are frantic to search for the one person you cared about. 

The crowds force you into the spaces between their backs, legs and bodies uncomfortably, bright fluorescent lights blinding you every time you tilt your head upwards. 

All you could think of was the tears that would be flowing down his face, the sheer amount of relief he’s drowning in when JYP said he would debut Stray Kids as nine. 

His parent’s voice echoes through the crevices of your skull, the words repeating themselves over and over and over again. 

“Minho made it.”

Your nose sours against its will, wanting nothing but to throw your arms around him and congratulate him for the one thing he had wanted for so long. 

A tap comes on your shoulders and you turn to see a swollen-faced Lee Minho grinning widely at you, his parents standing proudly behind him. The muscles in your face finally give into your overwhelming feelings, for there is nothing in the world you would exchange this look of bliss and happiness on his face for.

Minho pulls you into the hug before you can respond to him, his palm flat against the back of your head as you sob your eyes out on his shoulder. 

“Why do you always cry when I’m not?”

Annoyed at his cold words (though you know he’s just teasing you), he receives a slap in his chest as you pull away. “That’s cause you’ve already exhausted all your damn tears on stage, right?”

Minho sniffles, unable to stop that grin from surfacing on his lips. But your heart stops in its ribcage, unsafe from all the feelings that were diffusing through his body and into yours. 

[J U N E 2 0 1 8]

Where are you when I need you?

The last beat of NCT U’s The 7th Sense drops, and so does your butt to the wooden floorboard.

Of course this mental cry for help goes unheard. The loneliness was starting to eat away at your skin, like goosebumps in the cold weather and that horrid feeling of being lost with nowhere to go. 

The silence of the dance studio was on the verge of deafening you, and your reflection in the mirror looks like someone you never expected to see. You’ve lost the concept of time, because the studio is sealed. No windows, and the only way in or out is the door, and even then the nearest window was down the corridor. There’s virtually no way to tell how long you’ve been in here unless you’ve been staring at your phone. 

The other female trainees had left a few hours before, and though they did offer to bring food back for you before returning to their dorms, you know it would only hinder your progress. Stopping now will ruin your momentum. 

Knock knock

Your legs have long given up on you, so you could only pray that whoever comes in could read the lack of energy in your eyes when you look up. 

“I’m starting to get sick of that track because of you.”

A gasp leaves your lungs as you scrambled to your feet, nearly falling over because that’s how jelly they felt. “Yeonjun!”

The tall, brown haired boy had eyebags that could carry an elephant - it was a normal sight to see nowadays, and in his hand was a plastic bag which you could immediately tell was food. The scent of that hot soup was too recognisable.

“It’s fine, sit down,” The grin on his face pulls his cheeks apart as he gently shuts the door behind him. “How long have you been here?”

Yeonjun goes to the sound system and changes the music to something else besides your practise playlist before coming over to you, gesturing you to sit. 

“I walked in at 7am.”

Yeonjun freezes for some moments, eyes looking down at you with his shoulder blocking the ceiling light from your eyes. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Do I want to know what time it is?” Squinting your eyes as he shifts to sit down opposite you, the light finally getting through and interrupting your vision for a split second. 

Yeonjun pulls out a disposable bowl of soup and a box of sandwiches, a chicken salad and-- honey-glazed apples.

“I’m on a no-sugar diet--”

“And you’re still on your probationary contract, not even the idol one and yet you’re spending fifteen hours in the studio?” 

The revelation catches you off guard. Your last meal was a chicken salad that one of the female trainees had gotten you -- that was dinner four hours ago?

“Here,” He shoves the food across the space between you. Now, the smell was stinking up the whole studio, but you didn’t mind it one bit. Not when it’s conjuring all these weird noises from your stomach. “You’re obligated to finish at least the soup and fried chicken. I know you’re on a chicken salad diet so you can forget about that if you don’t like it.”

“Bullshit,” There was no hesitation to claim the food on the floor he’s presented to you. “I could eat a cow right now.”

“I guessed.”

Yeonjun helps open the containers, forcing the scent to waft through the stale, slightly-sweat-smelling air and through your nostrils. Your joints are on the verge of falling apart but letting yourself come apart would mean resignation. 

“Were you on the way back?” You ask right before you slurp up the soup, Yeonjun picks at some of the fries that were in the same bag as the fried chicken. 

“Nah, I came from the night market.”

“Oh,” The memory of honey-glazed apples flashes through your mind for a split second. A fleeting moment; too fast to process or delve into the feelings involved. “What are you working on tonight?”

“Rapping. I have an evaluation tomorrow.”

“Haven’t you been getting first for those? And shouldn’t you be resting instead of pushing yourself over the top?”

Yeonjun raises a brow at you. “For someone who’s spent God-knows-how-long in this studio, you sure have a lot of things to say.”

A bite of the honey-glazed apple melts in your mouth. 

“Anyway, when’s your first monthly evaluation - or are they only going to make you do it if you sign an idol contract?”

“Probably only after I sign the idol contract.”

Yeonjun hums in response, helping you rip open the boxes of sandwiches.

“So,” He starts again after a while. “Are you going to sign it when they ask you to?”

The thought was already intimidating in your head, and Yeonjun putting it into a proper sentence only made it worse. 

“Bold of you to assume they will ask me to sign an idol contract.”

“Bold of you to assume BigHit wouldn’t use you as a source of income.”

A low chuckle escapes your throat as you finish one of the honey-glazed apples. 

“Seriously though,” He places down the box of sandwiches and leans back on his hands, legs stretching out and eyes landing on yours. “What are you going to do when the idol contract’s on a desk before you? You’ve been on probationary training for what? Six months now? You would’ve wasted all your time and sweat if you don’t sign that contract.”

“But do I want to remain in public scrutiny for the rest of my life though?”

“Was that what you were worried about when you first joined? Was that what went through your head when Minho joined JYP?”

The name jolts you into an uncomfortable zone. You haven’t seen him since he debuted - because that’s how busy he was. It’s like he’s got no life outside that building and in cars that bring them back and forth entertainment buildings looking pretty for a bunch of fangirls. It’s like you’ve been left alone to deal with this trainee life on your own but you don’t have a single strand of hair on you that blames Minho for the situation you are in.

You encouraged him to go for it; he encouraged you to audition for BigHit and you signed that probationary training contract. You were sitting in a pool of your own decisions, but why does it feel like you’re sitting in a pool of sad tears?

“It was Minho’s choice to sign that contract and get to where he is now, you know that, don’t you? It’ll be the same for you. It’s your life, your choice.”

“I know,” You pull the sandwiches to yourself. “I was the one who encouraged him to do it.”

Yeonjun’s silence feels prickly on your skin, mostly because he’s made you feel guilty for something that Minho would’ve probably done otherwise any way. But the boy can probably read you - he’s noticed that you literally stop functioning normally every time he brings up the person who inspired you to continue dancing and be a part of this industry. 

He knows better than you try and comfort you, because that would mean he agreed. “You do realise that him becoming a celebrity was his choice and not yours? It’s his responsibility now, the same way it’ll be mine when I debut and the same way it’ll be yours if you choose to do it.”

Shoving the last bite of the sandwich into your mouth, you pray that the chewing is going to prevent the tears from being choked up. 

“Why do we choose to do this to ourselves? Work till the sun rises and get barely any sleep... for what? Pretty costumes and flashing lights and no privacy?”

His breathing is a little raspy in the dry, air-conditioned room, so you look up to match his gaze. His eyes were slightly furrowed and thinking - he knows what you mean. 

“Because it’s what we want for ourselves. It’s our dream to stand on the stage and perform because we love it. It’s not about the fame or the fortune - well, for some people, maybe but--”

A smile stretches across your lips.

“If you keep thinking of it this way, then this isn’t for you, y/n. I hope you’ll know what’s best for yourself.”

The smile remains on your lips but your gaze feels like its faltering. You can feel yourself zoning out from chicken salad that you’ve eaten over and over again in the last six months. 

Does Minho even think about you the way you think about him?

[N O V E M B E R 2 0 1 8]

“y/n!” The jolt awake is surprisingly contained; it doesn’t earn the attention of anybody else in the classroom when Hyunjin shoves you out of your day slumber. 

“What do you do in that building to the point where you can’t stay awake?” 

“Ugh,” The disgust is shown on your face when you discover a stray line of drool down the corner of your mouth, staining your black and yellow uniform. You wipe it off without much care and wipe it over your blazer before turning to Hyunjin. “It’s called training. I thought you’d know better.”

“And I do,” Hyunjin whispers back without looking at you, eyes plastered to the worksheet on his desk. “But I’m literally knee-deep in Get Cool promotions.”

“Your point being?” Rolling your eyes to yourself, you pick up your pen and begin copying whatever was on the whiteboard - not that they were even relevant. 

“My point is: if you’re going to become an idol but you’re going to die throughout schooling while still a trainee, how are you going to survive after you debut?”

“For the record, I’m doing better than you in most our subjects. Despite me sleeping in class.”

Hyunjin mutely snarls at you, baring his teeth like he was a dog. The teacher’s sudden eye contact stuns you, but luckily the school bell comes to your rescue and Hyunjin instantaneously shuts his notebook while rushing you to fasten your steps too. 

“Okay, no- I have a serious question for you,” Hyunjin has his hand out in mid-air with the other clutching the strap of his bag as the two of you make your way out of school. SOPA days were relatively short, especially when ten percent of the school’s population were either idols or idol trainees - you included (though you haven’t signed any idol contract).

“Will it warrant a kick in your nuts when you ask it?” Pulling out a bun from your bag, you stop by your locker and hold it in your mouth while unlocking the metal door. 

“Maybe,” He admits, leaning against the locker. You can see from the corner of your eyes that there were other students staring at him as he walked by - it was Hwang Hyunjin! Main dancer and visual of the one-year-old group Stray Kids, and if you think public scrutiny only comes in after debut, you couldn’t be any more wrong.

BigHit’s already given you one of those lessons - don’t make your name a household name before you even debut. Unfortunately, your candid friendship with Hyunjin’s stirred up some stuff, and many facts about your life have already been made public.

BigHit trainee, ex-dance crew member for BTS with Lee Know from Stray Kids, one of the 20 girls who received the casting call, BigHit’s first female trainee who passed only through dancing. Just what do these people not know about you?

“How long has it been since you’ve met Lee Know hyung?”

The name strikes a chord in you against your wishes. Your nerves falter for a moment as you shove the textbooks back into your locker, but your system turns back online after some moments. 

“Didn’t we agree not to mention his name here? Half the school already knows who I am, I don’t need them to know we actively talk about Minho.”

“No, I just-” Hyunjin watches you dump the last of your notebooks and textbooks in your locker. “I’ve never heard stories about you from Lee Know... all I remembered was you showing up at the finale and then our debut showcase.”

“And that’s the last time I met Minho in person. He’s not a great texter so let’s not have that conversation,” You shut the locker door and side-eye Hyunjin, hoping that he doesn’t pick up the pang of hurt and missing you have for Minho.

But Hwang Hyunjin isn’t emotionally unaware, is he?

“You mean to tell me that you last met Lee Know hyung at our debut showcase?”

Choosing not to engage, you take off in the opposite direction, heading for the exit of the school. 

“Hey! Where are you going?!” 

“BigHit!” You yell back without turning behind. “Where else?!”

“This conversation’s not over, I’m warning you!”

“Oh, boohoo!” 

[D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 8]

The night market is nauseatingly reminiscent, with all the wild flavours wafting about in the air and people crunching on fried Oreos or drooling over some spicy tteokbokki. It feels like you’re back home in your hometown. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t get into trouble for frolicking about in public?” Watching him pay the stall holder for the cheese fries, you cannot help but gleam at his innocent grin on his lips. 

“Nah, I’ve asked Soobin if it’s alright.”

“Soobin?” A frown conquers your forehead, for you know that Soobin doesn’t exactly have the greatest power over Yeonjun. “Soobin’s literally the last person who would tell you you can’t do something.”

A cheeky grin surfaces on his lips, but not as much as his eyes whelm with mischief. “Exactly.”

“So, how long more do you have before-”

“My introduction film’s going to be released in Jan.”

A short pause at the realisation of the lack of time you have with Yeonjun before he debuts. The situation stabs you in the spine and forces chills through you - it’s happening all over again. 

“If you’re worried about losing time with me, I hope you know that I’ll still try my best to come back to help you with your training if you need it.”

A dry scoff runs off your tongue, the heat from the cheese fries Yeonjun wasn’t even bothering to offer you coming out in puffs as he struggles with the temperature. 

“Well, I shall be honored that BigHit’s number one trainee is willing to be my personal coach.”

Yeonjun finally stabs a fry and offers you the stick. “This personal coach is picky with who he wants to help, so be--”

The abrupt stop in his words surprises you, because he’s doing nothing but staring straight ahead of him, at the crowd. 

“Yeonjun?” You wave your hand before his eyes. Yeonjun points through the crowd, beckoning you to follow his direction. 

It takes you a few seconds to notice what - or who - he’s looking at as the crowd challenges your vision. Then you see a black cap and a black mask that should’ve been adequate to hide his identity - that was the purpose of that disguise anyway.

But never in a million years will you forget those feline, brown orbs. 

Minho. 

[hklnvgl]

but for their voices (ii)

(for the first week of the Mister Impossible Countdown by @pynchpromptweek : Adam’s College Experience! tw: past child abuse)

2/4 | ao3 |  from the beginning

Ronan and his lips were back in town.

Benjy kept telling everyone who cared to listen how wonderful this coffee shop was, so Adam had suggested it as a meeting place. It was cozy and full of plants, and even though it was quite busy they managed to get a quiet table.

The only problem was their menu was huge and full of options, and Ronan’s greeting hug had overwhelmed Adam enough to effectively leave him unable to choose anything from this long list of things he’d never tried before.

“I’ll just have a cup of coffee,” he eventually said, when Ronan had grown bored of pretending to read his own menu and had moved on to tearing paper napkins apart.

“No cake?”

“I had a big lunch,” Adam lied, because what was he supposed to say? I’ve never actually had red velvet nor carrot cake and these are all quite expensive anyway, so I’ll just make myself a sandwich when I get home and be done with it?

Ronan shrugged. He stood up to go order, allowing Adam a moment to take a deep breath.

This was going to work. He was going to make it work.

Ronan slid back into his chair. He brought a tray with two cups of coffee, no pastries in sight.

“They’re out of fucking donuts,” Ronan said. Adam hadn’t asked.

Adam should have prepared a list of conversation topics.

“So how’s the farm?” he asked, after a few silent moments, because most of the texts Ronan had sent him since they met were random facts about his animals and his crops and a surprising amount of information about garden power tools.

Ronan shrugged. “You know, it’s a farm. There’s always shit that needs fixing and stuff to buy and stuff to sell. You should come sometime.”

Adam stilled. “Where was it again?”

“Virginia. You’ll like it, I think. I’ll take you to watch the sunrise from the top of a barn and everything. Best shit there’s in the world.”

Adam nodded, dumbly, because Ronan had this little smile on his face when he talked about his farm. About Adam in his farm. He’d promised himself he’d never go back to Virginia, but he was used to breaking all kinds of promises by now. He’d also promised himself he’d be a new Adam once he started college, and here he was, freaking out because he’d been invited to a boy’s home.

“As long as your parents don’t mind—” he muttered, not really sure he wanted to make the commitment, feeling bold and daring at the same time because he actually longed to see the place that had raised Ronan Lynch.

Ronan’s laugh was sharp. “Nah, you don’t have to worry about that. At all, man.” His grin grew larger. Colder, too, matching his icy eyes. Adam tilted his head. “They’re both dead, so—”

Great. This was why Adam didn’t normally ask about other people’s families. There was all kinds of shit out there that people didn’t want to see brought up by strangers when trying to relax in front of an overpriced cup of coffee.

“Sorry,” Adam said. Why had he thought coming here was a good idea? He should leave the talking to Ronan, who probably knew how to speak to people without making a mess of himself.

“It’s alright. Well, it’s not, obviously, but it’s been some time, and I’m better now. Keeping myself busy helps, and all that.”

“Yeah.” Adam wanted Ronan to stop talking. He didn’t want Ronan to tell him more about his family or about what he’d lost. Those were things that were supposed to stay secret. You weren’t supposed to bring them up and wield them around like they were some kind of unescapable truth. You weren’t supposed to show strangers your pain. Because that’s what they both were, right? Strangers. You didn’t owe anything to strangers, and Adam wanted to keep it that way.

Because if Ronan trusted Adam with this, wouldn’t he also expect Adam to give something of himself in return?

“My dad was murdered,” Ronan said then. All trace of a smile had disappeared from his face. It made him look older.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat.

What was he doing? Why didn’t he stop Ronan?

It’d happened all over again—he kept manipulating people into thinking Adam was this kind soul, selfless and gentle, with a heart big enough to carry other people’s problems and sorrow and make it all better. He’d done it with all the friends he’d made since arriving at Harvard, and then he’d fed them all these stories about a wonderful Adam Parrish who was reliable and generous and very far from the true Adam, who was just sitting there at this diminutive table while Ronan poured his heart into the open for Adam to pick the pieces he liked and destroy the rest.

Ronan shouldn’t be telling all this to Adam.

He didn’t know where Adam came from and what he was capable of.

“I used to drink a lot, back then. It got pretty bad—I fucked a lot of things up.” Ronan’s fingers drummed against the table. Adam wondered if taking them into his hands would shut Ronan up.

“I’ve never actually been to a farm,” Adam said.

Ronan blinked, as if realizing he was still there, and all the things he’d said, and how he’d said them to the wrong person.

But then he smiled, because Adam was good at what he did, and he’d tricked Ronan, too.

“Fucking town boy. It’s settled, then. You have to come.”

Adam felt something warm pool in his stomach. Shame, probably, but also having Ronan’s eyes meet his.

When they finished their coffee, Ronan dropped Adam off at the dorms before heading to Gansey’s off-campus apartment.

Adam knew he should say something before Ronan left. Something equally important as what Ronan had so carelessly told him, or at least something more substantial than the bickering they were currently having about Ronan’s taste in music.

Ronan deserved Adam’s truth. As usual, Adam couldn’t afford to pay the price.

He leaned over the gearshift and cupped Ronan’s face with his hands. He waited one, two, three beats, but Ronan didn’t move. He didn’t shove Adam away or turned his face.

Adam kissing Ronan’s lips was Adam giving him the pieces of himself that he could part with. It wasn’t near enough, Adam knew. But Ronan’s cheeks were flushed when he left, so perhaps it could work for a while.

At least, until Ronan saw the real Adam beneath.

(next chapter)

[overwatchworks]

That Pretty Face:

Inspired by art done by a good pal, they always draw the Blackwatch boys for me and it keeps my sanity.

It had been weeks. Weeks and weeks and Jesse had not truly thought about him since they had picked him up in pieces back in Hanamura. He had been busy. Mind occupied with other things. Genji Shimada was not the only thing being built from the ground up again.

Red eyes, silver metal covering most of his face, white and black synth skin. The Blackwatch insignia on his chest, outlined in glowing crimson. He looked angry. He looked resigned. Jesse didn’t blame him.

"Your life in return for your services". Jesse had heard the story, knew the drill. He’d had the same talk.

Death or Blackwatch. They were basically the same thing.

It had been weeks. Weeks and weeks and Jesse had not truly thought about him since they had picked him up in pieces back in Hanamura. He had been busy. Mind occupied with other things. Genji Shimada was not the only thing being built from the ground up again.

Guard duty was taking up his time now. Protecting Dr. Liao while she worked tirelessly on the AI that would, as she said, save the world where she could not. Jesse had seen enough of the world to know it could not be saved, but he was not about to tell her that. This was her life’s work, and who was he to dissuade a little bit of good in a world so riddled with evil. A world where people murdered their brothers in cold blood, left them shattered, left them for dead.

Just a few perks of the job.

The only reason Genji Shimada was back on his radar was because he was standing with them for training. Red eyes, silver metal covering most of his face, white and black synth skin. The Blackwatch insignia on his chest, outlined in glowing crimson. He looked angry. He looked resigned. Jesse didn’t blame him.

Your life in return for your services. Jesse had heard the story, knew the drill. He’d had the same talk. Death or Blackwatch. They were basically the same thing.

He was a cyborg now, wires hanging off the back of his head and whirring with each movement. The only parts of him that were obviously human being his left arm and what little of his face was still showing. Even that was mutilated with scars and marred by tubing. But he was a sight to behold when training. Fast, unbelievably agile. Ruthless. Violent. Every movement calculated and striking to kill.

It was beautiful, in a terrible sense. Clearly, Genji was skilled, but clearly, he was also unhinged. Pushing his body to the breaking point, steam coming up from odd places and eyes gaining dark circles as he overworked the human parts past their limits.

The weeks passed like that, training and missions going the same way. Genji liked to rip things apart. Genji liked to rip himself apart. Coming back with sparking wires sticking out of his arm and chest, blood that was too dark and glistening dribbling from holes in his armour. Covered in it. Some of it was his. Most of it wasn’t.

Jesse was generally assigned to missions with him, and generally they went well. Genji was quiet, the comms hardly ever going off on his end besides to give a general warning or a check in. He knew Jesse’s name, though, which surprised him the first time he used it. They had been caught in a crossfire, Talon ambushing their escape route and bringing in a sniper. Jesse had heard her rifle winding up, saw the laser sight flash to his chest. A single spot of red.

“She’s on you, McCree!” Genji had called, voice sharp and accented. Concerned, even. And then, of course, he had been shot. The bullet was armour piercing, but he had managed to move out of the way enough for it to not hit anything vital. Something he could survive, something Dr. Deorain had healed fairly quickly on the ride back to base. Genji had watched her work on him for a while, gaze boring into Jesse every time he looked up at the ninja.

For the first time, he wondered what was under that mask. If anything even was under the mask.

His eyes were expressive. They were pretty, all long lashes and dark intensity. They could be soft, at times. It was rare, but it happened. Mostly when Genji thought no one was looking, when he thought no one would notice the human parts of him anymore. Jesse did. But he did not let on just yet. They were not quite close enough for that. He didn’t know if they ever could be. Not in this line of work, not with what they had to do and the promise of death at every corner, a mission always a hairsbreadth away from going in the wrong direction, a bullet always missing them by the skin of their teeth.

Jesse loved it.

Jesse hated it.

Genji did too, he had learned, was born and bred for it. Made for it when he was born a second time, unable to escape the fate of a warrior, an assassin. Jesse wondered if he was bothered by that. The fact that his life was nothing but war and blood and death. Had asked him about it when they were stuck in the med bay together, drugs in his system making his lips looser than they already were.

Surprisingly, Genji had answered.

No, I am not bothered by it. I grew up knowing it was my fate, my duty. But I do resent it, and what it has done to me. What I have lost and had stolen away from me.

Jesse had listened raptly, the sound of Genji’s voice soothing in a way. Robotic, accented. Soft. His eyes were soft in that moment too. Lost in memory, perhaps. Jesse did not look too far into it.

Genji had gone quiet again after that, shifting where he could with the wires attached to his neck linked up to a computer behind him, something pumping modified biotics into the tubes in his arms, on the ports of his stomach. Uncomfortable, but not because of everything he was hooked up to.

I don’t know if I quite understand your situation, but never bein’ a normal kid? I get that. Nothin’ was ever normal for us except a weapon in hand and aimin’ it at someone else. Bein’ told to shoot. I guess in the grand scheme of it all, makes us no better than the bad guys, huh?

Genji looked back at him, assessing for a long moment.

We are not bad, we are just doing what we have to in order to survive. Kill or be killed. Join us or die.

I wish it wasn’t like that.

Another long moment passed, Genji gripping the edge of the examination table, eyes downcast.

Me too.

It was a long time before they spoke like that again. Missions kept them busy, and then training when they were not scheduled for them, Jesse occasionally going to meetings with Reyes while Genji went to the med bay with Dr. Ziegler to continue his modifications. They would pass one another in the halls. Jesse gave a tip of his hat and then added a wink until Genji finally began to acknowledge him back with a slight nod or raise of his brows. He liked to imagine there was at least a bemused smile under that faceplate when his eyes scrunched just a bit. Maybe.

They sparred together, started to train together after Reyes saw how well they worked as a team. Genji was good at quick, agile attacks up close while Jesse took on the long distance and range targets. Genji protected Jesse, and Jesse protected Genji in return. They got closer. Near death calls tended to do that to folks.

Genji talked to him more. Jesse told him stories and would get a few in return on the rooftops where the air was crisp and the sky was clear. Genji tried on his hat. Genji laughed. Just a small, quiet chuckle, but it left Jesse staring for a little too long. Genji noticed, Jesse tried to pretend his red cheeks were attributed to the cold as he snatched his hat back and drew it low over his eyes. He did not see the way Genji’s had softened again.

The next morning had them sitting in an airship, waiting to be dropped into a volatile zone overrun by null sector forces. They started out okay, but slowly, everyone got tired. They were only human, they made mistakes, slipped up. Null sector did not.

Genji did not.

Jesse was shouting into the comms for evac after he had to watch their third agent get shot down by a bastion unit, gunfire and static the only thing he was hearing in return. Jammed signals, bad luck. He dragged the corpse of a friend behind a building and had to leave it there, or they would all be one by the end of the day.

“We gotta get to higher ground where these things can’t jam our comms!” he called, Genji turning to him and nodding once before taking off towards the highest building. Jesse did not need an explanation, not between them. He motioned to what was left of their drop team.

“Move outta this hot spot! Stay behind cover, don’t leave one another’s backs unguarded. Get down that alleyway and take the first left, it’ll take you behind that main square, got it? We can find a place to hide out there, there’s just too many of these damn things here when we don’t have a shield!”

Jesse ordered, wishing not for the first time that he had someone like Reinhardt with him. Or at least a fully outfitted team like Overwatch always sent in. That would have been nice.

As it was, they had to run, Jesse getting everyone accounted for that was left before following up on the rear, eyes peeled for any sight of Genji.

He turned, gun spinning in hand and resting at his side as he counted the omnics marching towards him. Fifteen. He could do it. Six shots went of in tandem, six perfect bullet holes steaming through the first line of omnics. Jesse reloaded and did it again. Finished off the last two and ran down the alleyway, catching up with the rest of his team, ignoring the throbbing starting up behind his eyes.

“Bought us a little time. Come on, keep movin’.”

“McCree, we need more medical personnel,” Martinez urged, setting an agent down against the wall.

“Where’d Frazier go?”

“Dead.”

“Dammit.”

“There’s too many wounded right now if we need to make a quick getaway. Did Shimada not make it...?”

“Nah, he’s callin’ in evac for us. Stay here and do your best to patch everyone up, can you do that for me?”

Martinez nodded shakily, pulling out her med kit and going to the worst of the wounded in the group. Jesse made to check on the others, then saw a flash of red above them in his periphery. Genji landed in front of him not a moment later, the sound heavy, blood dripping down his shoulder. He did not seem to notice.

“It was all static, but I was able to find what was jamming them,” he reported, pointing to a building further into the hot spot. “I can get in there and take it out.”

“You ain’t goin’ back in there alone, that’s not how we do things around here. I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need you slowing me down,” Genji bit out.

“How about we not think about it like that and instead say, ‘wow, thanks McCree for havin’ my back for me in case I get in over my head like I always do’, yeah?”

“I can do this by myself, you will only get hurt following me!”

“And what happens if you get hurt alone and then we all get killed ‘cause you couldn’t stand havin’ to take help from someone?!”

“Hey, boys, how about instead of arguing about it, you both hurry up and get us out of here. McCree’s right about one thing; if we don’t get out of here soon, we’re all toast, alright? We have people dying!” Martinez interrupted, glaring at the two of them as Jesse sighed.

“Come on,” he grumbled, moving in the direction of the building Genji had pointed out. Genji fell in stride with him after a moment, eyes shifting to him. Crimson narrowed darkly.

“If you die, I won’t let you rest peacefully.”

Jesse snorted, gaining a devilish grin.

“Darlin’, I ain’t ever planned on anythin’ but another spot deep in Hell when I die. Peace wasn’t even on the radar.”

Genji did not offer him a reply, simply quickened his pace and took off, leaving Jesse to follow behind with a sharp eye. They slipped past the rows of null sector stationed in the plaza in front of the building quietly, Genji motioning to a window just outside of their surveillance. He climbed into it, leaning over the edge with a hand outstretched. Jesse took it. Hauled himself inside and took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Genji waited. Static was running through the comms this close to the jammer, giving Jesse a headache. It was a large structure, pulses of blue light that shimmered leaving it in intervals.

“Damn...How’re we gonna take that thing out?”

“A detonator,” Genji offered, Jesse frowning.

“You wanna lure one of them in here?”

“It’s the best option we have. I cannot get near that thing, it interferes with my cybernetics.”

“And you were plannin’ on doin’ this alone?”

Genji merely glared, then pointed again. “There are three posted just outside the entrance. It should not be hard getting them inside.”

“But this signal will jam them too, right?”

“Not if we move them manually.”

Jesse stared at the ninja, sitting back on his thighs and pushing his hat up as he faced him fully.

“Lemme get this straight. You wanna shove one of them in here, somehow push them close enough to the jammer so that when they explode, it takes it out, all the while not letting the massive amount of null sector troopers out front know that we’re here?”

“Well, actually, I was thinking we let null sector do it for us. They have more fire power than we do, and if we stay behind the detonator, they will shoot it. They are programmed to neutralize enemies, no matter what is in front of them. We can take advantage of that.”

Jesse blinked. Frowned and ran a hand over his beard, chewing on his lip.

“Is it bad that I think that might actually somehow work?”

“Only if we do it right.”

“Alright. Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

It took some finagling. Genji’s steps were stuttering as if his limbs were not synching with the rest of him when he got too close to the jammer. It was just the two of them. Jesse was sweating. But they got the detonator inside the door, and it was hell unleashed as soon as they did. Genji knocked it in with a kick, Jesse shooting at the null sector omnics running in after him.

“Go! Get behind it now!” he shouted, Jesse ducking towards the jammer. Genji deflected, stumbled, found his feet again. It was close. A lot of cover fire from Jesse’s end needed just to get him behind a wall. He was shaking his head, blinking hard. They needed to get out of there.

Jesse was taking most of the attention from the null sector troops, staying just close enough to the detonator to ensure it was being pushed towards the jammer. And it was working. The detonator’s armour was falling, bright, fiery oranges and reds being revealed, the whole thing starting to shake. Jesse ran from it, back towards the window they entered through.

“Genji! Come on, it’s gonna blow any second!”

Genji looked up, eyes widening a bit, the red in them flickering. He tried to take a step, flesh hand going to his head when his leg buckled.

“Shit...” Jesse muttered, glancing at the detonator. He had time. He could make it. Peacekeeper sang as he ran. Ran for his life, ran to Genji. There was another window by him, they could go out that way. It lasted a lifetime. It lasted a second. Jesse grabbed Genji when he got to him, tugging him back up to stand.

“Come on! Just focus for me a little longer, alright? I need you to get up to that window and help me up, okay?”

“O-okay.”

The stutter was not intentional, Genji’s voice sounding more robotic than usual. Voicebox glitching. He blinked some more, then climbed the wall, reaching down for Jesse. His hand was taken, and they jumped from the window. Jesse jumped from the window.

Genji was not behind him.

“Genji? Genji!”

The detonator went off. Rubble flying, chunks of concrete, dust, fire. Jesse was blown back, arms up to cover his face. He felt debris hit him, his armour bending and cracking. Hit the ground and curled up, covering his head, eyes squeezed shut. When the rumbling stopped and the world was no longer shattering, Jesse finally glanced up. Ears ringing, dust in his lungs. He picked up his hat, blinking hard, coughing. Shook his head and ran into the rubble, calling for Genji but not hearing himself say it. Sound slowly started to come back to him, though, it was eerily quiet. Just the crackling of flames and debris falling.

“Genji! Come on, Shimada, where are you?!”

Jesse paused when he saw Genji’s sword laying toward the centre of the blast and he ran to it. Stumbled a bit, grabbed it from the ground. And there was Genji, lying just ahead of it, cybernetics sparking, blood running off his arm. From his nose. From his lips.

Jesse stared.

Genji’s faceplate was nowhere to be seen, scars littering his cheeks and around where synthetic met human. The bottom half of his jaw was black synthskin and mesh. A bruise was forming around one eye, cuts above it bleeding down his temple. With his eyes closed like this, he could almost be sleeping. Jesse stepped closer, kneeling beside him. Rolled him over and tilted his chin to the side, shaking him gently.

Pretty. Gods, he was so pretty.

“Genji? Hey, come on, do me one last favour and don’t be dead...Come on, bud...”

Genji’s eyelids fluttered, taking a shuddering breath in.

“Oh thank god. Alright, alright I got’cha. I’ll get us outta here.”

Jesse took his arm and hauled him over his shoulders, grabbing his katana once more and standing. Genji was heavier than he looked deadweight. Limp.

“You’ll be alright, we just gotta get back to the team, okay? Just hold on.”

Jesse did not even notice his limp until he was back in the alleyway, ducking behind cover and keeping one arm over Genji’s legs so he would not fall. Eyes peeled for any sign of danger. Three detonators going off all at once, destroying a building and the jammer within it was bound to draw in swarms of null sector. They needed to get out, and fast. Jesse tapped his comm.

“This is Agent McCree callin’ for immediate evac to Blackwatch team A-1207. We got lots of wounded and this place is about to get real hot. Does anyone copy?” Static was his only answer. Genji groaned softly, Jesse glancing at him.

Head hanging just off his shoulder. So close Jesse could see the veins under his eyes, the way his cuts were beginning to tack up. How long his lashes were, the little white scars by his temple that looked too old to be something he got from his brother or the cybernetics. Jesse’s comm crackled, drawing his focus back to the present.

“McCree, this is Fio, I copy. Commander sent me in to pick you all up when comms went down, said it was too risky leaving you like that. Been having to fight my way around null sector’s anti-aircraft weapons. I’ve got your coordinates, ETA five minutes.”

“Fio! You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice, sweetheart,” Jesse laughed breathlessly, Fio giving a chuckle back.

“Glad to hear you’re not dead, cowboy.”

“Don’t jinx me, now, I still got five minutes to survive.”

“I think you’ll manage. Hang in there.”

Jesse grinned, making it back to the team and setting Genji down gently. Something felt off about letting anyone else see his face, though, so he wrapped his scarf around Genji’s shoulders and neck, his head hanging down into it and covering what normally was hidden. It felt like a violation of privacy, in an odd way. Jesse didn’t think Genji would have wanted to be seen by anyone, not even him.

Fio landed on time as promised, taking what was left of the team back to base. Jesse’s body was beginning to hurt, adrenaline wearing off and leaving him exhausted and throbbing. His foot was messed up, and his shoulder. His armour was torn in some places, but it had done its job for the most part. Bruises were all he would be left with instead of bullet holes and a punctured lung. His nose was bleeding. It took Martinez coming over to him to tilt his head back and press some gauze beneath it for him to notice.

Jesse was too busy looking at Genji to notice much else.

He was patched up, made Martinez move on to someone else after insisting he was alright, that everything else could wait until they got back to the med bay. The ride home was long, and Jesse slept through most of it.

-

His scarf was returned folded neatly, Genji presenting it to him without a word. His faceplate was back, eyes shifting to look at anything but Jesse. Jesse, who grinned and took it back, leaning against the doorframe when Genji did not immediately run off.

“Lookin’ all shiny and new there, bud. Good to see you up and movin’ again. You saved us back there with that idea of yours, you know.”

Genji stood there for a moment, nodding after another.

“I could not have done it alone. I know I said otherwise, but. I needed you there.”

Jesse tisked and waved his hand goodnaturedly.

“Aw, shucks. Makin’ me feel all special now.”

“Do not get used to it,” Genji huffed, his eyes crinkling just a bit. Jesse could imagine a smile on his face now. How good it would look, how pretty he would be with it.

“But thank you. For pulling me out of there. And for that,” Genji motioned to the scarf, arms settling across his chest.

“Anytime. We’re a team, yeah? I got your back when you need me, alright?” Jesse hesitated only a moment, reaching out and placing a hand on Genji’s bicep, squeezing lightly before letting go.

Genji watched his hand drop. Eyes flicking up to his, stance shifting. He set his shoulders and nodded.

“Alright.”

“I’ll see you at trainin’, then.”

“Yes, see you then.”

Jesse slipped back into his room when Genji turned to leave. Ran a hand over the scarf. Set it on the foot of his bed and went to finish typing up a report, Genji on his mind. Jesse smiled.

~~

[lovehugsandcandy]

One-on-One: Rematch (Part 2)

A/N: Remember when i wrote the first one of this and I was all like “WHY can’t I write anything short?!?” And NOW we’re at part 2 of a 16K word hot mess and that annoyance over three thousand words seems so quaint. (Part 1 here)

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~4,000 words

Rating: N*FW (Sex-not explicit (I think?) but it’s there. Swearing.)

Summary: When Langston made it to Nationals, Ellie planned on spending the entire time studying in her room. It didn’t end up quite as planned.

Ellie hoped it was out of her system, that her temporary insanity had run its course and she would return to her normal focus and drive, but Ingrid ruthlessly guilt-tripped her into attending a party that night. Apparently, there were parties every night, various hotel rooms and bars teeming with players and associated hanger-ons, and Ingrid was never one to be left out of a party, especially when they were celebrating a Langston victory.

She was dabbing concealer on the mark at her collarbone when Ingrid walked in, fixing her with a penetrating stare. “You know… you know what you’re doing, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hooking up with a player? Who is it?”

Ellie blinked; her reflection looked as startled as she felt. “I don’t...I don’t know what you’re-”

“I’m not stupid.” Ingrid swiped a brilliant red over her lips, pursing them in the mirror. “You stayed out all night and showed up exhausted to the game with a hickey no makeup can hide? Seriously?”

“It’s not….” Her cheeks were as red as Ingrid’s lipstick.

“Ellie. Listen. Hooking up with players is...complicated.” She turned to fully face Ellie, hip resting against the sink, eyes imploring. “Be careful. They are in it for one thing and one thing only. And you’re never the only one. They always have fans in and out of their beds and we can’t be seen with them, anyway. It’s always temporary; no matter what, there’s always an expiration date.”

“I don’t…”

“Everyone hooks up here. Playoff week is like Candyland but then everyone goes back to the real world. And hookups with players, whether Langston or opponents... it doesn’t translate to back home.”

Ellie swallowed, hoping that it was the bathroom lights that were making her look so washed out.

“But...the guys are all in their peak physical prime so the sex is verrrry good,” Ingrid purred, wolfish smile alighting her face. “But don’t fall for it. Cuz that’s alllll they want.”

“I…” She inspected her nails.

“Ellie… I know…” Her voice was kind, confiding. “I know what you were like in high school and I have really loved seeing you come out of your shell, watch you meeting new people and having a social life. I just... I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t.” She looked up to meet Ingrid’s gaze head on in the mirror. “It’s not like that. It’s…” Images and sensations flashed through her mind, the glint in his eyes as he tracked her movements, the curve of his hand as he pulled her back into bed. “You’re right. It’s just sex. Really.”

Ingrid’s sigh echoed through the bathroom but, thankfully, she dropped it in favor of a sassy lipstick kiss on the mirror. “Fine, fine. Ready to go?”

Ellie didn’t answer the question, only dutifully followed Ingrid out the door, hoping that the party was worth giving up an evening with her nose in theorems and formulas.

It wasn’t.

The party was everything she dreaded; she could barely see through the bodies crowded in the penthouse suite. They forced their way through the crush, avoiding the flailing arms on the dance floor and cheering bros piled around a beer pong table before finally stopping by the makeshift bar. 

“What do you want?” Ingrid wrinkled her nose as she looked over the selection, finally picking up some fruity spikes seltzer with dainty fingertips.

Ellie hummed absentmindedly, “I’ll have a water.” She looked through the crowd again, spying players from all the teams milling and laughing, other cheerleaders she recognized from earlier in the season. But not everyone was there, apparently; she stood on her tiptoes, stretching to see over the crowd, trying and failing to avoid looking for a certain smirk.

“You are so boring.” Ingrid chided and then grabbed her arm. “Oh, there’s Jack. I’m gonna go say hi. Be right back!”

Ellie didn’t even have time to say goodbye before Ingrid was off, weaving through the crowd, trained like a honing missile on the upperclassman she had been fawning over. Ellie sighed, leaning against the table. It would be an interminable night.

As she was nursing her drink, she felt a gentle nudge at her side.

“So are you on a women’s team or are you a cheerleader?” 

She turned and immediately flushed as she realized that the boy next to her fit every single qualification of tall, dark, and handsome. Were all basketball players this cute? Of course, he was tall but the chiseled cheekbones? The dark scruff teasing its way down his jawline? She had to replay his question in her head.  “Oh... cheerleader.”

“I should have guessed. It’s a prerequisite to be gorgeous, apparently. Who do you cheer for?”

“Langston.”

“Ah, we beat you guys three weeks ago. And if we both keep playing well, we’ll see you in the finals.” She nodded, but a familiar figure pushing through the crowd stole her attention. He was engrossed in an intense conversation with a tall brunette; even from here, she knew they were talking strategy, Colt’s eyes lighting up as they parried ideas back and forth. His eyes swept the crowd as he walked past the dance floor, nodding along as his friend spoke, but he stopped as soon as his eyes locked on hers. She swallowed, unable to look away, as he bid farewell to his friend and walked over, positively swaggering, every step filled with the unbridled confidence owned solely by boys who threw the first punch because they knew they would throw the last. She wished she were more stoic, able to pretend that he wasn’t affecting her, but the swoop in her stomach made it impossible to think of anything else.

However, when he sidled up to them, she was surprised that he turned instead to the boy in front of her.

“Logan?��

“Sup, Kaneko?”

“Toby was looking for you.”

“What?”

“He said something about that play you guys were drawing up. With the hand-off at center court?”

“What did he-”

“I dunno man, something about trying it while dribbling backwards?”

“What?” Logan’s eyes widened. “I gotta... I’m sorry.” He turned to her and panic flared on his face. “I have to go.”

Once Logan rushed away racing through the crowd on a mission, she flushed under Colt’s gaze; he narrowed his eyes. “What in the world you talking to him for?”

“What? What do you…” She lifted her chin to shoot him a challenging stare. “Wait, you jealous?”

“Jealous?” He rolled his eyes. “Ha. If I were, I would have just given him a black eye.”

“Why do you care who I talk to?”

“I don’t.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, deflating under her scrutinizing glare. “I am shocked to see you here.”

“What do you mean?”

“This doesn’t seem like your kinda place,” he scoffed. “I figured you would be in your room studying.”

“This doesn’t seem like your kinda place. I figured you would be in your room brooding.”

“Ha. That hurts..” He shrugged, eyes intent on her. “I mean, nothing was really going on in my room.”

She bit her lip. “Ingrid wanted to come and, after my vanishing act yesterday, I figured I should spend some time with her.”

“Well then, where is she?”

Ellie pointed to the dance floor, where Ingrid’s heavy make-out session with the Langston forward was definitely an NCAA violation.

“Hey, I know him.” Colt ducked his head to see through the crowd, rolling his eyes. “He got so huffy about a pick I made that he tried to punch me. They had to stop the game to find his tooth.”

“What?” Ellie peered through the crowd. “No, it was our center you fought.”

“Nah, different game.”

“Wait… how many times have you fought someone on my team?”

“Hmm…” he pondered, eyes narrowing, “I mean, how many times have I played you?”

“Wait…”

“Twice a year in the regular season and once in the playoffs last year, so what is that? Five?”

“You’ve... you’ve been ejected from every game you’ve played us?”

“Sweetheart… I’m ejected from about half of the games I play.”

“How are you still in the league?”

“I’ve gotten a lot of warnings.” He glanced around the room. “But people here have done far worse than me.”

She wasn’t stupid; she had heard horror stories of the trouble athletes had gotten into. It was one reason she had consciously avoided players until... well, until now. Players were not in the plan. But now?

“You wanna get outta here?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I mean, we could stay and play drinking games and get wasted…” He nodded at her water. “Or we could not.” She smirked, holding his gaze as he ducked his head to whisper in her ear, “So, do you wanna get outta here?”

“Yeah, I do.” She really did. With one last glance across the dance floor to ensure Ingrid was occupied, she followed him back to the exit, eyebrows flying up when he clasped her palm to lead her through the mass of bodies. His hand was warm, strong, and entirely too solid for a fling with some collegiate athlete; she held tight anyway. 

She eyed him closely as they walked to the elevator. Now that the roar of the party was receding, Ingrid’s words rang loud in her brain. “What did you mean when you said you noticed me?”

“What?”

“The first time we played you. This season.” The sports page said it had been his best game all season; she didn’t remember a thing except for flashcards on enthalpically driven reactions.

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean, when you were so busy studying that you didn’t even say hi to me? You ignored the star of the game?”

“Oh my God, you are so full of yourself.”

He laughed, looking far more relaxed than he had at the party; instead of being on guard, he looked almost boyish, young, eyes gleaming in the elevator lights. “When I first saw you, you were berating your friend.”

“What?” Of all the things she was expecting, that was not it.

“Your roommate? Ingrid? She made some mistake in her hand placement of a hold and you were trying to fix it before the game. And then you made the team try to retry the jump flip thing?”

“The what?”

“Christ, I don’t know what it’s called. You jump in the air and flip around and three people catch you before you crater onto the court. You made them do it repeatedly until you thought it was perfect.”

The doors opened, and she stepped out, glancing over at him.

“I honestly couldn’t fucking tell a difference any of the times you did it.”

“I…” She followed him down the hall, brow furrowed. “I thought you would say something about the skirt.”

“I do like the skirt.” He reached into his pocket for the key, eyes on her the entire time. “But you’re tough. You didn’t take Ingrid’s shit. Hell, you don’t take my shit. You have high expectations of others, but you expect perfection from yourself. You’re smart and you don’t let anyone stand in your way.”

The door opened with a ding and she stumbled in, unsteady. Apparently, Colt’s talents at surgically cataloguing and exposing the strengths and weaknesses of others was not confined solely to the court.

“What? Why do you...?” he asked.

She blinked, inhaled slowly, exhaled slower, and finally spoke. “You sound like a fortune cookie.”

He laughed again; thankfully, his head fell back so he missed how weak her return smile was as her eyes drifted to his jersey, tossed in a heap on the floor. The championship game was in five days.

If that was her expiration date, then goddamn, she would make the most of it. Straightening, she stalked over to him. “Did you bring me here only to talk?”

He looked down to where her fingers were touching his arm and then caught her eye. “How about some dirty talk?” She rolled her eyes, blush flaring, and he stepped even closer. “How ‘bout some things that definitely wouldn’t be on a fortune cookie?”

Her breath stopped as he ducked his head, lips tracing her cheek, neck, lower, following a trail of red as far as it went, then lower as they fell to the carpet.

They didn’t make it to the bed.

And when security banged on their door to inquire about a noise complaint, Ellie could not stop stuttering apologies, Colt could not stop laughing; once they left, it became his mission to make her scream even louder.

He succeeded.

~~~~~

Ellie woke up slow. Her muscles ached, the best kind of sore, and she sighed in satisfaction. The room was gauzy around her but, as things slowly came into focus, she realized her head was pillowed on a muscular chest, legs intertwined, sunlight just starting to crawl up the starched sheets.

“Colt?”

His eyes were focused on his phone, staring intently at something flashing across the screen. He didn’t move.

“Hey, Colt?”

Finally, he looked down and realized she was awake. “Oh, hey.” He pulled out an earbud. “Morning.”

“Morning. What are you so focused on?”

“Hmm? It’s game tape.”

“What is it?” She sat up, curling into his side to peer at the screen. “Oh my God, you narcissist. Are you watching yourself?”

“Ha ha.” He wrapped his free hand tighter around her waist and sighed, “It’s the game against Williamsburg. See him #42?”

“Yeah.”

“He torched us for a double-double. That’s not gonna happen again.”

He hit play, and the video ran, zoomed in on the player Colt referenced. Ellie had learned a lot from cheering at game after game, but she was no expert. However, even she could tell he was their best player, watching him drain three after three. She squinted at the screen. “What is that weird thing he does with his hand?”

“What weird thing?” Colt hummed.

“The weird flick thing. With his wrist.”

“Huh? What are you…” Colt moved the video back a few seconds to watch. And did it again.

“That! You see that?”

“Yeah….” He sat up slowly, eyes trained on the screen. “He does it before his pump fake. Holy… how did you…”

“Biomechanical engineering, remember?”

“Damn…” he finally turned to her, eyes gleaming, and the awe in his voice made her flush. “I am so fucking keeping you around!”

And when his lips crashed into hers, she could almost forget the twisting in her gut that reminded her of their expiration date, her plans, and the fact that no one was keeping anyone around. 

Almost.

 ~~~~~

Ellie was tucked back into his sheets when he sauntered out of the bathroom. She stared. It had been a while since she had seen him in actual clothes.

“Are you going to the other quarterfinals games?” he asked, toweling his hair.

“Uh…..no? Why would I?”

“I dunno. I go to all of them.”

“Why?”

“Well, we play whoever wins the afternoon game and I think it’s gonna be Williamsberg. Good time to scope out the competition.”

“That’s very strategic of you.”

He leaned over the bed to kiss behind her ear. “I’ll show you strategic.” Then, his tongue parted her lips, stealing her breath until there was a pounding on the door.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” a feminine voice hollered from outside.

He pulled back. “Give me a second, for Christ’s sake!” He turned back to Ellie and kissed down her jaw, sloping down her neck. “I’ll be back, ok?”

“What?” she whispered.

“Yo, Kaneko, let’s go.” The girl from outside pounded on the door again.

“Will you be here when I get back?”

Her eyes widened. “If you’re going to both games... you want me to stay here until 10 tonight?”

The kisses returned to the side of her neck, lower, and she tangled her hands in his shirt. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Fine.” She couldn’t help but return the smile, laughing as he flashed her one last wink before ducking out the door and settling back against the pillow.

She lounged for a while, flipping back and forth between channels and seeing what appeared to be every single Picta image ever posted before she snuck out, hotel key firmly in her pocket, and made her way down the stairs to duck back into her own hotel room.

Ingrid greeted her with a raised eyebrow. “Where have you been?” Her eyes immediately found the hickie on Ellies neck and she leered, “And what, or who, have you been doing?”

“Oh my God, stop.” Ellie barely glanced her way before sticking her head in her backpack, rummaging around for a couple textbooks. If she was hanging out in a strange room all day, she might as well get some studying in.

“Seriously, though. Are you...Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes! Yes yes, jeez, yes. I’m having fun. Isn’t that what you want for me?”

“Yeah, but…” Ingrid frowned. “I just worry. You’re so set on studying and school and after school...I don’t want some loser meathead to ruin it for you.”

“He’s not-” She had to physically bite her tongue to stop herself from refuting the phrase. Colt was a lot of things, a walking ball of contradictions wrapped in tight muscles and fast fists, but meathead loser was far from it. Unfortunately, Ingrid’s raised eyebrows suggested she knew exactly how Ellie would have finished that sentence. She sighed and started over, “He won’t ruin anything. I have a plan and I’m sticking to it. He’s just….” She had to inhale a shuddering breath to power through the rest of the words. “He’s a fling. It’s just sex and, after this, everything is gonna go right back to normal. My future plans are fine.”

“Ah yes, Ellie’s seven step plan to get her doctorate and take over the world.”

“Not the whole world.” Where were her highlighters?

“I worry about you.”

“I’m fine. It’s all fine.”

But even when Ellie clutched her books to her chest and headed out the door again, even when she did her best to keep her head high and fight back the blush, Ingrid did not look convinced.

Ellie didn’t know how convinced she was herself.

~~~~~

The only sound in the room was the ESPN announcers droning on and the scratch of a pen over dense words. She had nearly finished the chapter on thermodynamic principles, sprawled over the bed with her toes buried under warm sheets, when the door opened.

“Hey, how were the games?” She finished writing out a formula on an index card, checking to make sure she had noted the correct number of atoms.

“Good. We’re gonna win it all this year, you wait. Williamsburg looked rough.”

“What about Langston?!?”

“Yeah, I don’t…” He sat next to her, trailing off as he noticed that the television was on. “Ugh, turn that shit off.”

“What do you mean? They’re talking about the playoffs.”

He reached for the remote but she held it over the side of the bed, giggling as he flailed. “Look, Langston, there we are. Future champ-Hey! Red and gold. Wait, that’s you!”

“You know they replay this shit, right? They showed it already.”

“You’ve seen it? Don’t ruin it for me, big shot.”

She glanced over at him and his jaw was set, eyes hard.

“Colt?” He didn’t move, eyes looking through the television in front of them, sour lines painted across his face, even though the announcer was droning on about his court vision and passion. She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey, I can turn it off.”

“It’s fine, whatever.” He shook his head and sighed, eyes looking past the tv, past the wall. She frowned. “I just wonder sometimes... does he fucking see this shit? He never watched a fucking game, he never fucking showed but now, that asshole... he cares so much about the family name, the family legacy and now, when people look up Kaneko, it’s me. It’s me they see, not that asshole.” He blinked furiously, still staring straight ahead.

She hit the power button, dropping the remote on the floor to straddle him, cupping his cheeks to look him in the eye. “Colt.” He didn’t even blink, staring straight through her. “Colt.” She thumbed his cheekbone; he didn’t move. “Kaneko.”

“You’ve…” His eyelashes fluttered slowly as he gazed at her. “You’ve never called me that.”

“Isn’t that what your teammates call you?”

“It hits a little different when you say it.”

“Huh? How so?”

“When people say it to me…” He swallowed, hard. “When people say it to my dad...I’m used to it being hollered or screamed. Not...” He trailed off.

“Not what?”

“Not all sexy.” His gaze softened when she glared, and his voice dropped so she had to strain to hear. “Not like it means something.”

“You’re the only Kaneko that means something.”

She gasped as the room spun, landing on her back as he hovered over her. “Call me that again.”

“Kaneko,” she gasped and his lips found her neck, lower, sharp pinpoints of white pain as he found the bruise on her collarbone.

“Again.”

“Kaneko,” she moaned and a tense hand dove into her hair, tilting her head to the side to drive teeth into her sensitive neck. Her hips bucked.

“Me, my name,” he growled into her ear and her vision dimmed, consciousness fading to the only things that mattered: his hands rough on her hips and his voice a rasp in her ears.

“Colt. Cooolt. Kaneko. Colt, please!” He ripped the shirt off his head and her clothes followed, flying through the room, textbooks slamming on the floor, a flurry of motion until she was underneath him, nails digging into his back. He slid inside of her and she screamed, pressure building as his name fled her lips, along with epithets far too vulgar for daylight, as he worked her into a frenzy and then an explosion, when names and sight and anything except for white-hot pleasure was meaningless.

~~~~~

At least when she woke up next, it was still morning. But, by the time they got their act together, breakfast in bed followed by a shower and, a few hours after that, another shower, it was no longer morning, sun high in the sky as Colt grabbed his wallet. “You ever been to Nationals before?”

“Nope.” She shrugged. “Freshman, remember?”

He smiled, grabbing his key from the desk. “Then let’s get outta here.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. See the sights. You don’t have a game until tonight, right?

“Yeah… our semifinal match. I need to be at the arena at 7.”

“Good. Come on.”

She was confused but followed, escaping the hotel to make their way into the city, avoiding the crowds and the press to hop a bus downtown. They grabbed lunch at the waterfront, Colt threatening to push her in the river, hands solid around her waist as she laughed and laughed and laughed. He bought her ice cream and then wiped vanilla on her cheek; his tongue was absolutely indecent as it licked it off, entirely inappropriate for a crowded street. She couldn’t bring herself to complain through her flush. He followed her through small shops, grumbling bitterly the entire way, but she still snapped a photo of him in prop sunglasses and a cowboy hat before he put her in a headlock, pulling her out the shop door as the bell rang merrily over their heads. 

And when she arrived at the arena, 20 minutes before game time, clutching her uniform in both hands, he pushed her against the closed doors to thoroughly map her mouth, lips pinned to hers as hungry hands roved her body and her Langston blue-and-whites fell to the pavement as she pulled him even closer.

And during the game, she had no idea what the score was, registering neither her routine nor the Langston victory; her mind was far away, and she felt distracted, disembodied, until she was sliding the key into the lock and was falling back into his bed.

.

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