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lesbian-deadpool · 4 years ago

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Saving Rosie

Part One of Two: “I’m Not A Spy.”

Rosie Betzer x Reader

Words: 5,768

Warnings: WWII (and everything that comes with that era), Nazis, spy shit, arguing, alludes to execution, sadness... I think that may be it.

Request: No.

Summary: You save the woman you have grown close to over the past few years you have been undercover as a Nazi general, and now you’re going to save her family.

A/N: Me, still broken after watching Jojo Rabbit almost a year and a half ago?? It’s more likely than you think... so, apparently I write Rosie Beltzer fics now lol

Also, just some lil notes. The reader in this is undercover as a male Nazi general, and they’re not actually German in this fic.

EDIT: I accidentally tagged this as a Natasha fic lmao. I fixed it now tho.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not My GIF)

***

"It's a lovely night for it, huh?"

For what? You weren't

certain. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe, it was the clear sky. The deserted streets, perhaps... what loomed in the following days to come.

Or maybe, just maybe. It was the woman by your side.

The woman hummed, a small sweet smile caressing her face.

"One of the better ones we've had in years. Came her strong German accent. A stark difference to yours, considering you no longer had to mask it. Around her, anyway.

Your smile mirrored hers as it brightened.

"It sure is."

"I can't believe it's almost over. And after so long..." she said, while you grunted, sitting down beside her on the small roof over the open attic window. "This unjust war is finally coming to an end."

"Okay, you're starting to sound like my commander now."

Rosie chuckled at your words, moving to softly lean into your side, keeping her head up to continue looking at the bright white stars that littered the midnight blue sky.

"Why do you always insist on meeting up here?" you grumbled, no malice in your voice, "It's a pain in the ass to get up onto the roof, from the outside, y'know?"

"You're a spy, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be good at this stuff?"

"Oh cheeky," you laughed, lightly slapping the side of her leg, with the back of your hand. Rosie's quiet giggles following your remark, "And I'm an undercover soldier. Those are two very different things."

"Still." She shrugged.

You sat in silence for a small while. Over the few years, you and Rosie had grown close. Meeting up on her rooftop, at the dead of night, where there was no chance of anyone seeing you together, this way, becoming an almost every day occurrence.

You knew you could trust her the moment you first met, almost three years ago. After you had stolen the identity of a Nazi officer, that looked starkly like you. Luckily, there was hardly any information about this person. So, there was less chance for your cover to be blown.

Soon, the resistance that Rosie had been deeply a part of was un-earthed to you, thanks to your informant and the letter she carried. It wasn't long after that you started working with them too. Helping them better than they could ever hope, thanks to the military resources and information you brought.

"What happened to your neck?" Rosie asked, pulling you out from where you were, deep in your memories.

A hand came up to rub at your slightly sore skin.

"My informant can be cruel..."

Rosie cocked a blonde eyebrow at you, wanting an explanation from you.

You sighed, getting ready to tell her.

***

Eyes burned into the woman from all sides as her heels kicked against the polished wooden, yet stained, floor. Her light brown hair shone under the glowing lights, confidence radiating from her just the same.

"Can I help you?" a German Soldier slid in front of her, she had to stop herself from sneering at the man. For both his being a Nazi and his sweaty stench. But instead, she managed a sultry smirk.

"I'm here to see your General," she replied, in a German accent.

"Don't bother," another Soldier, this one drunk and slightly swaying, called over, from where he was pressed into the wall a few feet behind her.

"I don't think your General would take too kindly to you stealing what they paid for."

"They're gonna have fun with you," he replied, blatantly looking her up and down. Like a wolf would, to a tiny bunny, ready to devour it whole. However, the wolf was not a wolf at all, the wolf was, in fact, the bunny, and the bunny was the actual wolf.

She would tear him to shreds, given the chance.

"The General is in the usual room," the original man said, "Fair warning, though. They're not in a good mood today."

The woman began strutting down the hallway, once again. Throwing, "Aren't they always?" over her shoulder once she passed him by.

When she opened the thick wooden door you resided behind, the sounds of your continued groan began pouring through the crack.

"Sometimes I cannot believe that you got this assignment," she uttered in her original London accent, with her back pressed against the now-closed door.

You finished your groan off and took a deep breath before you uttered your reply.

"Luck-of-the-draw, I guess," you spoke from the floor where you lay on your back, with a shrug, "That, or I look strikingly alike the guy who died. The Nazi prick."

She walked over to you, one foot rising to press her heel into your neck, your thyroid resting in the open space of the shoe.

A choking noise sprang from your mouth as you flailed your limbs around gently. You knew that if she were to press any harder, she would surely manage to choke you.

"You're not suited for this job."

The brunette pressed harder against your throat before she released you. Leaving you to turn on your side, coughing and spluttering.

"Well, no shit. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"You can tell."

"What was that all about?" You motioned to your neck. Red marks already making their way upon the tender flesh.

"We need to make it seem like we are having sex. Remember? I am supposed to be your hooker after all."

"You're a bitch, is what you are."

She scowled at you as you rolled yourself onto your stomach, sighing when you finally got to your feet.

"Where's the update?"

You hummed, almost as if you were remembering what you were here to do. Removing the crystal tumbler from your lips the whisky sloshing around inside. Reaching behind you, you pulled the file from where it was tucked into your pants and under your shirt. Handing it over to her.

"Is this it?" She asked, weighing the file in her hand, "It's very light."

"Yeah, and so's the information swimming around. Unless you wanna hear about the fish Agatha caught last weekend," you snarked back, moving to point at the file with the same hand that held your glass, "There's some good stuff in there. It's not much. But it's good."

"I'll take your word for it."

She tucked the folder into the long overcoat she wore, then you saw her eyebrows furrow.

"Aren't you supposed to take care of that?" She nodded towards the uniform jacket you had thrown across the room not long after you had entered it.

"You sneered at the fore-talked about item.

"I hate it and everything it stands for." You turned back to face her. "As soon as all of this bullshit is over, I'm burning that fucking armband. And then the rest of the fucking uniform."

"Real calm there, aren't you?"

"Don't start shit with me, Hannah." You took a large swig of your drink, almost emptying the glass. "I know that you wish you had somehow gotten this mission. But trust me, you don't fucking want it. The shit I've seen and done. The stuff that I've had to authorise, just to keep my cover. The fucking horror storied these monsters have told proudly, or as if they're fucking jokes." You were panting now. "You don't want that."

You had her startled into silence. Hannah had never expected this to come from you.

"How's the resistance?"

You grunted. Downing the rest of the brown liquor before moving to pour yourself another glass three fingers tall.

"It's going." you gave a heavy nod. "Still trying to spread the word."

Hannah hummed, slowly making her way towards you. Fingers coming up to razzle her hair, and wipe her lipstick, so it smudged onto her cheek.

"How's the blonde?"

"What-?" you were cut off when she wiped the red lipstick on her fingers across your own lips, leaving a smudge like hers there. "Ugh," you groaned, moving away from her palm, only to utter small obscenities and sounds of pain when her lipstick freehand messed up your short, slicked-back hair.

"What blonde?" you finally managed to ask.

"The one from the resistance. What's her name?" She clicked her fingers together, in realisation, "Rosie."

"Oh! Yeah, she's fine, and so are the kids."

"You seem to be taking a shine to her, from what I hear from the resistance. You and Rosie seem to be something of a dynamic duo."

Suddenly your shirt was ripped open, from the collar to your ribs. Making your eyes widen in shock.

However, you were used to this by now, so they soon returned back to their regular size.

"Yeah, we're friends."

Hannah hummed, something akin to a knowing smirk on her face. As she untucked your shirt.

"I'd keep an eye on her, though."

She opened your pants.

"She's being watched."

Breathless at what she just said, you stood stock still, watching as she walked towards the wooden door.

"Oh." Hannah stopped, her hand upon the handle, pulling some pieces of paper from her pocket and threw them to the floor, "I'll leave you to deliver the bad news."

And with that, she left.

***

You forewent telling Rosie everything from the mention of her.

Thinking it the best if she heard it differently.

"That really sounds like a spy meeting to me," Rosie said with a smirk, knowing it would annoy you to no end.

You closed your eyes before you could roll them into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled, "I'm not a spy."

"So, you've said," she giggled.

"You're drunk," you mumbled to yourself.

"What was that?"

"How are the kids?" you asked, clearly watching as Rosie groaned lightly. Her head down-turned, almost sad looking.

"Jojo's still obsessed with Hitler and everything. And Elsa's doing her best. But I can tell how much this is affecting her. And in what world wouldn't it?"

"She's strong." You nodded. "She'll get through it. We all will."

"And what about Jojo?"

Rosie turned to face you, hair swaying as she did. You could see the glazed look in her eye's, telling yourself to be extra vigilant with the woman upon the roof. You had to make sure she didn't fall off in her drunken state.

"Is he going to be like this for the rest of his life?"

Tears were building in her eyes now.

"Supporting evil dictators, wanting to take over the world, and fill it with hate?"

"No. No, of course not," you whispered. Reaching over, you clasped her cheeks between your rough, war-hardened hands. Wiping away her silent tears. "He's just a boy. A boy who wants to be a part of something, even if he doesn't understand what that is. What monster's he's following. He will realise one day. Trust me."

"I trust you." She nodded. "It just. It's hard. It's so hard. Especially when he plays up, like he did at dinner today."

"He did?"

She hummed with a nod.

"We're low on food right now. I had to go without to feed Elsa. But Jojo, he didn't know, obviously, so he took that too. Then he started arguing about his father-"

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. But luckily for you, she didn't notice your reaction.

"-I yelled at him... we made up not long after, but I still feel awful about it. I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not-"

"I am-"

"No. You're not," you said firmly. Grabbing her forearm, gently moving it side to side, to get your point further across, "You're such a caring and amazing person. Your heart is so big and kind. And you're an even better mother. It's like all of that is doubled for those kids."

"Thank you," Rosie whispered, tears in her eyes once again, before she moved to wipe them away.

"Anyway, you're way better than my mother. She abandoned me at a farm. I was lucky a cow didn't shit on me."

She giggled at your little joke.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"There's no need. I wouldn't change it."

Things were quiet for a few minutes when you suddenly remembered.

"Oh!" You reached into your pocket and pulled out three packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. "I guess it was just lucky that I brought these then."

"What are they?"

"Beef sandwiches, I thought you would like them."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," she spoke in something close to a moan as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

You gave a small chuckle at the woman seated beside you, "I'd thought you'd say that. I'll have to start bringing food over to these meetings of ours because it's not like I can do it out in the open."

"People would think something was going on between us," Rosie hummed.

"You're right about that. Everyone is so bored around here. Gossip is like their life sauce."

"Would you be surprised if I told you that it was the same before the war?"

"Not at all," you laughed.

Rosie finished her sandwich, and you dreaded what was coming next.

"I need to tell you something," you almost whispered.

She bumped her shoulder against yours when you didn't continue.

"Well? What is it?"

"It... it's about your husband..."

You watched her carefully as you said that, all the while emotions, flew into her while she processed them.

She held back more tears, ones from the look on her face that she had shed more times than she could count. Face contoured into one of concealed pain. Looking away from your gentle, caring eyes while rubbing her hands together.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so." You nodded, looking out before you, into the starry night sky.

That's when you felt a tiny jolt beside you. Looking over at the blonde, you watched as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered.

With a gasp and a wet sniff, Rosie wiped her tears away.

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, some members of a resistance was there, your husband included. None of them made it... they saved the people they intended to, however."

She nodded with a sad yet proud smile.

"How long ago was this?"

You swallowed. Hating the words you were about to say.

"A little over a year ago."

You winced when you heard her sobs, ones being held in so hard just so no one could overhear her cries.

And, sickeningly so, the worst thing of all was that you didn't know how to help her.

Placing a hand upon her back, rubbing small comforting circles into her shoulder. Feeling her lean into you, face now pushed into your neck.

"I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

You left not too long later, after already spending way too much time up on that roof.

Rosie wished you a "goodbye" with the promise that she would be fine. However, she didn't reply to you when you told her not to finish the rest of the wine. That she had been pounding for the majority of the day.

Before you arrived "home" and promptly collapsed onto the bed.

***

The afternoon sun was warm upon your face as you walked the streets of the German town. Watching as children ran around, women worked, and well, gossiped, and Nazi soldiers came and went.

Soon. You thought. This will all be over soon.

That's when you heard the murmured words from the women you had just walked past.

"Yes, the Gestapo. They're here right now."

"Who for?" the other woman asked, voice slightly higher at the aspect of such "juicy" gossip.

Sometimes it surprised you just how detached some of these people were from human lives. But then you took a step back and saw everything that was happening in the world. And you weren't surprised anymore. Just disappointed.

"The traitors wife. Beltzer."

And now you were scared.

"-They should be taking her to the square, right now."

It was like the world had slowed down as you turned to look at them, meeting their curious eyes.

The last thing you heard before taking off at a run towards the town square was a fading, "Like husband, like wife. I guess."

The people you passed by looked at you like you were insane. To see a, what they thought, General, sprinting down streets and panting like crazy, it set them on edge.

But you didn't give a damn about what anybody thought.

You just had to get to the square.

And quick.

***

By the time you got there, you had a light shine over your skin. Thanks to the sweat from both the running you had done and the worry that coursed through you.

"Remove your hands from her," came your faux German accent.

"She is a traitor to the Reich," one of the Gestapo's, seemingly the leader, replied assuredly.

"And what proof do you have of this?"

Rosie was terrified. You could see that as clear as day, no matter how she tried to keep calm. It was written all over her face.

So, you forcefully pushed their hands from the heavily breathing woman and pulling her to stand by your side and away from the group of men dressed in black suits.

"I'll have you know, we have very probable tips from some of the community-"

""Probable"?!" you shouted, causing the on edge woman beside you to jump slightly. To which you pulled her closer to you as a form of comfort. Your hand, coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Yes. Probable. We cannot have risks."

"Well, I say that it is bullshit."

"You have no jurisdiction or authority over our department."

"And I never said I did. I am saying that I vouch for this woman."

"But the tip-off's-" another man began.

"You choose to believe lonely and bored housewives over a General?!" You watched as their faces fell, and they tried to grab onto any straw they could to change your mind.

"There is still a chance-"

"There is no chance!"

"And can you be so sure?!"

"Do you really believe that I, a General, would be with her if you were right?"

"With her?" a third Gestapo asked curiously.

You knew what you had to do to get her back home, safe and away from the men trying to execute and make a spectacle of her. Just like the poor people hanging to your right.

"It means that I have been seeing her. Romantically, if you still do not fully understand, what I mean."

They didn't say anything for a few short moments, only stumbling and stuttering over their own voices.

"So, tell me. Who are you choosing to believe?"

"Uh. Y-You General."

"Good." You nodded once. "Now, I'm going to take her home. Goodbye, gentlemen," you spat. Turning on your heel, with Rosie under your arm, and walking away.

"Are you okay?" you whispered. Not drawing any attention to yourself or Rosie.

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving me," she replied in the same way.

"I wouldn't have done anything else." Your hand slipped down to the blondes dip in her lower back, helping to guide her back home. "Where are the flyers? Did you have any on you?"

"Yes. I threw them down the drain before they could see."

"Good. You did good." A squeeze to her hip before your hand returned to her lower back, just to keep up the appearance of the lie. "They're not gonna find them."

***

Rosie had relaxed more by the time you were at the bottom of her street when you saw a distinctly expensive car parked outside of Rosie's house. A car that everyone knows belongs to that of Gestapo's.

"Is Jojo home?" you asked, just stood there starring at the sight, with Rosie by your side.

"Yes," she husked.

"Shit."

And that's when you both broke out in a run.

You, being faster than Rosie, arrived at the building first. Barging through the door, with her hot on your heels.

Pounding your way up the stairs, only to come face to face with a gang of men, identically dressed to the Gestapo's, you had just saved Rosie from. Along with Jojo and Elsa, in clothes that didn't look like they belonged to her. Not to mention the demoted soldier, holding an identification book.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"What are you doing in my house?!" you and Rosie said at the same time. Your yell angrier, compared to her more so worried one.

"We are searching the premises," the lead man, who wore round glasses, spoke. Face confused as to why Rosie was still alive. But as soon as he saw the anger chiselled upon your face. He could take a successful guess as to who had stopped the execution.

"Mama, they were just checking Inge's identification," Jojo said as his mother rushed towards him. Her hands, on his cheeks, as she checked him over.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Rosie pulled Jojo along to bring Elsa into her side, just as you had done for her mere minutes ago. "Are you both alright?"

She gained words and nods of confirmation from the two children.

"I think it's time that you all left."

"But-" one Gestapo said, looking to Rosie.

"But nothing," you continued, "I'm sure your associates will fill you in on their mistake. Now, if you are finished, I ask that you leave this house."

"We were just about to, anyway," the leader said, leading the way out for everyone. But not before the ID was handed back to the assumed Inge. With you trailing after, to slam the door behind them.

You turned, leaning your back against the wooden door, sighing deeply.

"Are they gone?" Rosie called down, leaning over the railing, to peer down at you.

The stairs creaked below you, the layer of carpet doing nothing to quiet them. You spoke your confirmation, as you reached her, "They're gone."

The kids looked like they had just been caught with their hand's in the cookie jar.

"So..." the caring woman started, "You two know about each other."

They nodded.

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks, at most," Jojo said.

"How did you even find out about her?"

"I-I found the hatch-"

"He crawled in-"

"And I found her-"

"He was terrified."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Okay, enough," Rosie raised her voice, gaining the bickering children's attention.

Taking a breath, she ran her hands through her soft blonde hair.

"And you never told anyone?"

"No." Jojo shook his head. "I didn't want you to get into trouble..." It was at that point, he realised you were silently stood behind his mother, watching as everything unfolded and who you were.

Rosie caught this and looked over her shoulder at you.

"Don't worry," she told both of the kids, crouching down before them. Elsa's face one of mild terror.

This is when it hit you that these kids were exactly that.

Kids.

Kid's that were too scared of their mothers, or motherly figure, scolding them, than the actual, apparent danger that lurked not too far away.

"They're not going to tell anybody. They know. And won't let anything happen. To any of us." she manoeuvred to face you. "Right?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. I will do my best to protect all of you."

"Speaking of." She slowly rose to her feet, walking towards you.

The hand that Rosie placed upon your arm was gentle, almost like she was worried she would hurt you. Fingers curling into the jacket of the uniform you loathed.

"I have to speak with the General. So, you two stay up here. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good." She pulled you through the open door, but before she could close it fully, her head popped through the door, "Oh. And we're not done yet. We still have a lot to talk about."

Then the door clicked shut.

"You're really good at that."

"What?"

"Being a mother."

"I know. You've told me before."

***

Things had changed rather quickly when you arrived downstairs.

Sat upon the blue cotton cushions of the wooden framed couch. Watching as Rosie paced around in front of you, fingertips rubbing against her full lips, worry etched across her face.

Your eyebrows shot up, and your body straightened when she turned to face you. Arms now down by her sides.

"So, we're together, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you replied, German accent dropped, "But that was the only thing that would get them to back off and drop the suspicions against you."

"I know." She nodded, completely understanding. Before her minimal composure dropped, and the worry came back. "What do we do? Jojo obviously thinks you are a traitor now. What if he tells someone?"

"He won't." You stood abruptly, taking Rosie's shoulder's into your hands, squeezing them gently. "He didn't tell anyone about Elsa when he had so many chances to do so. Hell, he had the chance, not even five minutes ago. But he hasn't said a word, purely just to keep you safe... he doesn't understand that this could hurt him and Elsa too. He doesn't know what's happening."

"But this is different-"

"Yes, it is different. It's better he thinks I'm a traitor, helping his family, than him knowing I'm an undercover soldier."

"You mean a spy?"

"Don't you start with that shit." You pointed at her playfully.

Rosie's smile dropped when a thought popped into her mind.

"Do you think they will still come back?"

"It is possible," you said honestly, "Which is why we should leave as soon as we possibly can."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere that isn't here."

"What do I tell the kids- What do I tell Jojo?" she clarified.

"The truth. You tell them that they could come back and that we all need to leave because we could all be in danger."

With her head in her hand's, the blonde scoffed tearily, "God. This fucking war."

"I know. I know."

You pulled her into your chest, letting her cry into you. Arms wound around your torso tightly.

"I hate it, For so many reasons."

"I know," you repeated again, "I feel the same."

"When will it just end? When will people be safe again?"

Deciding that it would be best to tell her the truth, you said, "I don't know. Soon I hope."

And there you sat, for a small while longer, allowing the blonde to cry into your chest.

***

You had left.

Gone to go gather some of your things, thinking it best to stay with Rosie and the kids while you were forced to stay in town.

All the while Rosie, spoke to the kids about leaving.

"I don't understand why we have to go!"

Was what you were greeted with as you entered the home.

"Because it is not safe for us here anymore," Rosie's voice came, calm but firm.

"But they won't come back."

"That's not entirely true," you spoke, entering the kitchen. Placing the leather bag you carried and the wicker basket upon the small table against the wall, you continued, "There's always a chance, no matter how small."

The young boy watched you silently for a minute. Not knowing what to say.

"Trust me, Jojo. I know how all of this works. I just want to keep you all safe, so does your mother. And this is the best way to do it.2

Jojo sighed.

"Where will we go?"

Rosie looked at you intently when her son asked this, wondering the same thing.

"We'll get out of town first. Then we'll focus on a safe place for us all to go."

"Jojo, would you. Would you go to your room, please?" Rosie asked, "I need to speak with the General, alone."

Just as the blonde boy was about to protest, he was cut off.

"Now. I also have to start preparing dinner."

He huffed and walked from the room, bounding up the stairs rather loudly.

You felt bad for the woman as you watched her grip the sides of the oven, bow her head, and give a great sigh.

"Where's Elsa?"

"She's in her hiding spot." Then she turned to face you. "Y/N, K know that Elsa isn't Inge."

"What?"

"She got Inge's birthday wrong, and he didn't say anything."

Your eye's wandered as you took in the information that was just given to you.

"Do you think he will say anything?"

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, "But I don't wanna take any chances. It's too risky."

"I agree." Rosie nodded once. "So, when do we leave."

"As soon as possible. Tonight if we can. Only pack the essentials. And not yet, we can't raise any suspicions."

Rosie's only reply and indication that she had heard you were a good few nods.

And then.

"What's in the basket?"

"Oh," you said chipperly, "Don't worry about cooking. I brought dinner."

***

Turns out "tonight" wasn't a viable option for skipping town, as with loud, almost deafening sirens of dread filled the sky came the air-raid strike.

"Wouldn't it give us a good cover, though?" Rosie had asked, preparing for bed.

You had resigned yourself to staying over, as a sort of bodyguard, while still in town. And the threat was still very much weighing in the winds.

You looked over your shoulder at her. Being spotted by her through the mirror of her vanity, where she sat. Removing her makeup and then applying some face cream.

"I'm not the only one by a window," you told her. Then moved to peer through the window, at the moving lights in the black, midnight sky. "I'm sure I heard Elsa and Jojo in the attic watching them."

"They are," she confirmed.

"See. We're not the only ones. Too many eyes. A good distraction," you admitted, "But almost impossible. And with two kids added to that? No chance."

A hum came from Rosie.

"So, what are our options?"

With a sigh, you began explaining, "People will be too jumpy tomorrow, so our best bet would be the day after."

The blonde, now ready for bed, came over to you. Moving to stand right in front of you, looking out the window herself.

"Wouldn't it be too risky, staying here that long?"

It seemed it was your turn to hum, shrugging your shoulders.

"I'd rather stay here a few more days than risk it out there. But there is a good side to these change of plans."

"And what's that?"

"Now, we can sneak stuff to the car. And won't risk being caught doing it all at night. That way, all we have to do is get in, then drive off."

"Good plan. Partner," Rosie spoke in a slight mocking about sultry tone. Which only made you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah. Yeah. You're welcome."

"Seriously," you halted at Rosie's serious tone, raising your head to peer at her, "Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me." Your lips ticked up in a small smile before you lightened the sober mood and atmosphere. "And you definitely won't be thanking me if I accidentally kick you in my sleep."

Rosie laughed at your words, watching as you said into bed beside her.

"Do not worry. If you kick me, I'll just kick you out of the bed."

"Now that's just rude."

Waking up the next morning was strange for you, to say the least.

With the bright sun shining through the thin drapes, across the cosy room, and onto the bed. Duvet lumpy above your forms.

And then there was Rosie.

The blonde pressed up against your side, head resting on your shoulder, arms curled around one of yours, still fast asleep.

Now that.

That was very unusual for you.

But then again. You were too sleepy to process anything at that moment. So instead, you just watched her breathe soothingly, looking so peaceful by your side, with your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted in curiosity.

It was a wonder how someone could look so contest face asleep like Rosie was, with everything that is going on in the world.

The world wouldn't be that way for much longer, you thought, it was only a matter of time before everything was over.

And the same thing could be said for the blonde sleeping by your side.

The wooden door barged open, alerting you fully awake, as Jojo strutted in. Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you. In bed. With his mother.

You could see the slight anger in his eyes, purely out of protection for his beloved mother.

"Good morning, Jojo," Rosie said sleepily as she moved to sit up, looking at the boy with a sleepy smile.

You grunted as she pressed her palm into your abdomen to raise up into a seated position.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, nodding his head towards you.

Rosie looked over her shoulder at you, tired eyes evaluating you. Before she turned back to her son.

"There's something I forgot to tell you yesterday."

You watched the mother and child with slightly wide eyes, not uttering a word, just looking like you wanted to escape this situation.

"What did you forget?"

"The General here-" she patted your abdomen where her hand still resided. "-And I, are seeing each other."

It was a few good long moments as Jojo processed the words. You thought he was going to be angry. It would be natural. You would understand. He was a young boy, one who undoubtedly missed his father and would not be happy with his mother being with anyone else.

But you also had to understand that he idolised you, if only for your -albeit fake- position in the German military.

And yet, you were still surprised and confused by what he said next.

"A lion?"

Rosie smiled brightly, nodding her head, "A lion."

"A lion?"

That was the first thing you said that morning, and it was full of confusion.

But it fell on deaf ears.

Jojo nodded once at his mother before turning on his heel and walking from the room, without saying what he initially came in for.

"What?"

Rosie smiled at you.

"Come on, we should get moving."

The bed shook and bounced as she got up from the bed, preparing to get ready for the day.

"I'm so confused," you almost whimpered, only gaining a soft giggle in return.

***

Permanent Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro, @thelastavenger-3000, @mixed-fandom-mess,

SFW Tag list:

@peggycarter-steverogers, @natalia-quinzel,

(I didn’t know if you guys wanted to be tagged in this, but...)

#original work #original fanfiction #rosie beltzer x reader #rosie betzler x reader #rosie betzler imagine #rosie betzler #jojo rabbit imagine #jojo rabbit

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blahkugo · 4 years ago

Text

Rouge

Satori Tendō x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

Word Count: 2.5k

TW: Mafia AU, Dark themes, Blood play (an excessive amount of blood mentions in general), Knife play, Asphyxiation, Angst (?), mentions of death (no main characters), Just two psychopaths going at it tbh.

A/N: I’m so excited to be writing for @the-smut-pile’s newest collab, hosted by @present-mel, @pleasantanathema, and @linestrider. Please make sure to check out the rest of the masterlist here!

Every night, the smell of bleach stings your nostrils and prayers left unsaid weigh heavy on your tongue. ‘It comes with the job,’ they had warned you, had urged a ‘pretty little thing like you,’ not to take a position you couldn’t stomach. You didn't listen, of course.

Because death isn’t a stranger in your life, nor an old acquaintance you catch up with once every few years. It’s a friend that phones daily, a lover you scurry into bed with—the chill down your spine when you walk home alone in eerie silence.

As a doctor you saw it everyday, with every patient that prayed for pity when the pain became all too much. Cries of the sick plagued your every waking moment; who were you to deny them release? Their suffering ended the moment you injected the drugs.

But you’ve never seen death like this before.

“Daydreaming again, angel?” Tendō swipes a disinfectant across the cold metal counter, rubbing until pools of pomegranate red match his long, messy hair. Despite the dreariness of the task, an impish smile remains plastered across his face, the glint in his eyes unscathed by the scene you’d both just witnessed.

“It’s still Doctor to you.” Try as you might, your voice comes out shaky, your heart pounding so hard you’re worried it may actually jump out. That feeling never quite leaves you.

He straightens his gloves and out comes his signature laugh—that high, maniacal, chuckle that stops just short of a song. You’d rip out your car radio if it meant getting rid of it.

“You haven’t been one for a long time.”

The truth makes you shudder, but he’s right, of course. Once your license had been stripped away and you were on the run, your career had officially ended. An ‘Angel of Mercy,’ all the news stations had called you, yapping on for days when you were that week’s most wanted woman.

You don’t have the right to be called a medical professional and yet, you stand your ground. If it means getting him to quit with the dreadful pet name, you’ll say just about anything.

“Your boss calls me Doctor.”

“Because my boss can’t remember your name.” He meets your eyes, lips quirking upward at the little huff that escapes you, your furrowed brows spilling bits of frustration you so desperately attempt to keep bottled. The air hangs heavy with the shrieks of anger you wish you could unleash, all the words you don’t dare say aloud in fear of looking weaker than he already believes you are.

Instead of challenging you further, Tendō simply turns away, chucking the wipes in a bin and humming a tune far too cheery for a man who just ended a life.

When night comes, you dream of the older man who begged to see his children one last time and the laugh that sounds like a song.

—

The next day isn’t any better, because it never is. Ushijima’s moles bring in three more bodies for questioning; bodies, because you’ve been instructed to refer to them as nothing but. And they’re young this time, heavily tattooed kids that can’t be much older than nineteen—children that look so much like the thralls of young men you’ve learned to call friends, you have to avert your eyes when they send panicked glances your way.

You wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons.

“I’ll only ask once,” the gruff, even voice echoes within the small space. “Who’s your supplier?” Your boss is cold and calculated. He never wavers, never says more than he needs to. He’s everything you’d thought the leader of a crime organization would be and more.

Tendō hovers next to him, gnarled fingers twitching eagerly at the knife splayed between them. It’s his weapon of choice, because—as he mentioned your first day on the job—he can ‘take his time with them’.

The captives crack immediately, pleading helplessly for their lives as they vow they know nothing. They probably don’t, appearing to be nothing more than lowly thugs in a long hierarchy of vile men. It doesn’t stop what comes next.

As expected, Ushijima remains silent except for the soft sigh that leaves him. Tendō sighs as well, though it seems more pleased—euphoric, even—than bored. He presses a slender finger into the tip of his knife, watches as a bit of blood runs down his lean arm, paints a strip of his tattoos red, and drips onto the metal table.

“Are they ours now?” Ours. The word brings bile to your throat. Ushijima makes his way to the door, bluntly calling over his shoulder,

“Do what you must.”

You push up your glasses, Tendō grins, and the screaming begins.

—

Blood-stained lab coats are a staple of your wardrobe. No matter how hard you scrub, fingers raw and aching, the faded pinks never seem to give. You quit months ago, resorted to throwing the worst ones away instead of putting yourself through that hell.

This coat’s going straight to the bin.

Through every horrid interrogation, you’ve forced yourself to watch. You’ve never looked away, never dared allow him to smell the fear off of you. You hand him the tools, write the information on the clipboard, assist with cleanup and disposal, and answer any questions he may have—like the good little medical doctor turned mafia member you should be.

And Tendō smiles the whole way through. Even as dagger meets flesh, as pained cries shatter your eardrums, as your vision is clouded with red, red, red—Tendō smiles, humming a tune that you hear long into the next evening.

But today, when the third young man had looked you dead in the eyes and sobbed, begging you to tell his mother he loves her, you couldn’t help yourself.

Of course, the towering redhead didn’t fail to detect the misstep.

“Bad day?” He questions innocently, resting his elbows on the now spotless titanium table. His muscles ripple as he leans, boasting the thousands of dollars worth of art across his arms. It bothers you that you notice it, even more that he probably catches you gawking. He sees everything, after all. Everything but the blood still splattered across his body.

“Won’t be the last, for us at least.” Brows raise, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him. If at all possible, the wicked grin on his face widens.

“You’re exactly right.” And like clockwork, he laughs. Your hands grow cold, ice corroding your veins. He swipes his tongue over his lip, leaving a slick shine on his lips. When he rises and steps toward you, you stand your ground, though you so desperately long to run. “Why so serious?”

“They didn’t know anything,” you mumble under your breath, “and you tortured them anyways.” In all your months of working with him, this is the first you’ve complained—and you immediately wish you hadn’t.

Tendō moves even closer, as though entertained by your tiny outburst. Perhaps he’s been waiting for this moment, for you to finally break your silence. When he speaks, his tone is gentler than usual, but still holds every hint of mockery and nonchalance the bastard is known for,

“It’s our job, angel face.” Another step, another tiny breath you’re holding in, worried that the slightest of sighs might shatter your perfected image of faux indifference. He tilts his head to the side, peering down at you, like you’re- a child.

And the glass breaks.

“Enough.” You splay your hands in front of you, halting him in his tracks, just as he invades your space. “Enough of the patronizing looks, and the humming, and the stupid pet name that you know bothers me!” An accusatory finger is jabbed into his chest. “Don’t you feel guilt? Fear? Empathy? You murder people.”

Your chest burns, heaving with rage. Tendō’s half-smile still sits on his face, words of ridicule ready to roll off his tongue any second. But when you look into his eyes, there seems to be something more—an emotion you can’t quite place. Anger? Understanding?

His next sentence is whispered with such sobriety, you’re unsure who it is you’re speaking to anymore,

“People like us don’t deserve those feelings.”

“There is no us!” The claim may come out crazy, hysterical even— a woman covered in warm blood shrieking within a cold, sterile room. For once, you don’t care. “I’m not like you.”

Those words may be what set him off, hand wrapping around your chin and tilting it up so that you’re unable to look away. Fingers that incite panic and enact violence, fingers you’ve feared since your first day here, clutching you ever-so casually. “Exactly. You’re not like me.”

He doesn’t wait for your rebuttal, gripping harder at your face. “I’ve made my peace with who I am, but you,” his breath fans your cheeks, “you only pretend you don’t enjoy it.”

Then, Tendō’s kissing you. And to your utter surprise, you’re kissing him back. Heat rises within you, the hairs at your neck curling as your lips meet with a ferocity. His palms graze your lab coat—no doubt staining his skin with the blood it’s drenched in—before he’s peeling it off.

When you tug at his messy locks, the butcher smiles and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. He pulls you closer, hurriedly stripping you of your remaining clothing, until you’re left in just your panties. Hands roam at your supple skin, kneading at your hips, meshing into you wherever he can. All the while, your lips do the same, bleeding into each other until you’re unsure of where you start and he ends.

“No.” The command is stern, perhaps the most you’ve ever been with him. His eyes narrow in disappointment, limbs rapidly untangling from your body. You shove him backwards until his knees hit the edge of the table, nudge him again so that he falls against it, and grab a clean scalpel off the side counter. “No, we do deserve to feel those things.” His grin returns in full force—and he laughs.

This time, you don’t hate it.

“Deep down,” he grunts as you hitch a leg over his thighs and climb onto him, “you know that I’m right.” The scalpel’s pointed tip grazes his black tee, cutting through the material meticulously. You run a palm up his broad chest before pressing a finger to his mouth, smearing nearly dried blood across his jaw in the process.

“You talk too much,” the hushed murmur tumbling from your lips doesn’t sound like you, is foreign and twisted, and too much like him to bode well for either of you. The muscles in his thighs tense beneath you, his hard chest rumbling in a silent glee.

Your fingers brush against his cheekbones and you gasp, losing all perception of who you are. It’s absurd, but the individual you knew before, the persona you so adamantly believed you could uphold, crumbles with a single, soft touch of his skin.

And it’s unfair, really, that someone so beautiful—covered in art, blessed with hair the color of sweet wine and a laugh that sounds like music—could be so utterly fucked up.

When you nick his cheek, observing the drip of blood that trickles down, you wonder if Tendō ever makes these comparisons. And when you lick at it, preening at the groan that leaves him, you wonder if you’re just as fucked up as he is.

All at once, you’re flipped beneath him, back crashing against the cool metal table. He climbs down and drags his pants off, yanks you towards him with one pull of your thighs, and presses against your core. A shiver runs down your spine at the heat, crazes you for something you didn’t think you needed.

“By the way,” Tendō speaks through kisses and nips at your neck, “you are just as fucked up.” Though you hadn’t realized you’d said that aloud, you’re unable to retaliate, only wrap your legs around his middle and moan at a particularly harsh bite. He soothes every spot of broken skin with his tongue, drifting downwards until his lips meet your cotton panties. “How cute.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting thi– Ah,” your complaint is cut short when he moves them to the side and licks a long stripe up your slit. And he doesn’t stop, lapping and sucking at your soaked cunt, holding you down with one lean arm when you writhe in response to the pressure. “God, fuck.”

“Satori, but I’ll take God too,” he smirks against your mound. It’s then that he inserts a lithe finger, then two, stretching you out until you’re tugging at his long locks, goosebumps raised as the warmth of his mouth intertwines with the cold beneath your back.

You’re panting, unconcerned with time or it’s passing, only his fingers, his tongue circling your puffy bud, and your steady ascension to the edge. Just as your legs tense, breath caught mid-mewl of his name, he stops. You lean up on your elbows, rut against him, searching for more—friction, movement, anything—but he doesn’t let up.

“Fuck- why?” Your cry is loud, whiny even, but you don’t particularly care when euphoria’s been ripped away from you so suddenly.

“Tell me I’m right,” he teases, eyes peering straight through yours. You whine again, a mix between a pained groan and ‘are you fucking serious?’ before he flicks at your bud once more. “Say it.”

And you do. Because, as strongly as you've denied it, you’re every bit as perverse as he is, every bit as infatuated by the idea of power, of playing God—of holding a life between your fingertips and choosing death.

The second the words are out of your mouth, he thrusts deep into you. Your fingers scramble for purchase, nails dragging against the table, then his back, as skin slaps against skin.

There’s nothing gentle about Satori, all lean, hard muscle and jagged edges, but the pain is just as blissful as the pleasure. His fingertips rub at your clit, other hand moving to wrap around your throat and squeeze tightly.

“Satori, I- I need more,” you choke out, lightheaded. And he complies, shifting you to your side and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. Your cries melt into his, sweat soaking your skin, your hair, the table, as he pounds into you over and over again.

“That’s it baby– fuck, let go for me.” He presses the long-forgotten scalpel against your throat—and your vision goes white. Electricity sparks through your spine, your tongue lolls out, and you swear you feel tears run down your cheeks.

He doesn’t stop, working you through the orgasm as your legs bind his waist. A few more thrusts and he’s following you, holding your hips against him so tightly, he’ll probably leave deep purple bruises.

He finally stills, chest falling against yours and heaving, allowing you both to catch your breath. Flashing a set of pearly canines, his wild grin and the glint in his eyes reappear. For the first time since you’ve known him, Tendō is completely silent.

And then he laughs, lawless and untamed, the howl of a hyena that sounds like a song—and you laugh too.

#tendou satori #tendou x reader #satori tendou x reader #haikyuu smut #satori tendo x reader #hq!!#tw blood #tw knife play #tw death #tw dark themes #tw dark content #tw asphyxiation #tw blood play

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giggles-and-freckles · 4 years ago

Note

SO EXCITED you’re taking whump prompts ahhh!! Maybe a damp towel against flushed, feverish skin or being picked up?

I am sorry, people–I know that you didn’t sign up for full-length one-shots when you opted for “PROMPTS,” but...how am I supposed to just stop writing Baby Ahsoka and Padawan Obi-Wan?

Obi-Wan sat up with a start, snapping his head around the room. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but hour six of staring at the same ridiculous texts of ancient Jedi prophecies had pushed him over the edge. He only hoped Qui-Gon would remember that the mindless research was on his request when Obi-Wan passed out in the training room tomorrow.

Ah-choo!

Obi-Wan’s gaze flickered quickly around the room again. He knew he heard something that time. But every corner of the room aside from his small desk was pitch dark. The archives had long been abandoned by every sane being hours ago. So where did that sound–

His attention was ripped behind him at the sound of a small, broken cough.

“What on–,” Obi-Wan shook his head, blinking. ”Er, hello.”

Big blue eyes widened in response. “Um.”

Obi-Wan quirked a suspicious eyebrow. “It’s a little late for younglings to be digging through the archives.”

“You’re not even that much older than me,” the tiny Togruta said with a heavy roll of her eyes.

The Jedi snorted. He absolutely was older than her. Twenty years, at least, by the looks of it.

“All right,” he said, diplomatically. “I’m here researching ancient prophecies. What’s your excuse?” He challenged her easily.

Her arms fell from their defiant state folded across her chest and hung limply at her sides as she deflated. “Uh, well–I…”

“As expected,” Obi-Wan barely managed not to roll his eyes. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the creche.”

She frowned in disgust. “I don’t need you to take me back. I can navigate the Temple on my own, thank you. I am six, y’know.”

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so?” he gasped, a dramatic hand to his chest. “My apologies for the insinuation, wise one.”

The youngling hesitated, seeming to teeter between deciding whether he was being serious or sarcastic. She ended on the former and grinned in response at the title. “Quite all right, youngling.”

Why, that little–

“I’m here on important business, but it’s very very confidential. Top-secret. The most exclusive–” Her words came out garbled and choppy, a result of her missing two front teeth. “If you don’t tell anyone you saw me here, I’ll even promise not to snitch on you for breaking curfew,” she smiled self-importantly.

Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped at the nerve. “Breaking...snitch–what?” He frowned. “Listen here, little one. I don’t know what rules you’re following, but they’re certainly not the rules that governed me when I was a youngling–many, many years ago,” he added the last statement with a hard glare toward the small Togruta.

She stared at him for several silent moments and Obi-Wan would have given a great many things to have insight in her thoughts at that time, but before he could say or do anything–

“Youngling!” Obi-Wan rushed to her, kneeling beside her small form, crumpled on the floor. “Are you...okay?”

His knowledge on healing was admittedly limited, but the Togruta suddenly shivering on the floor was absolutely not okay. Out of seemingly nowhere, she’d just...dropped. Her lip quivered with every shake and Obi-Wan was filled with painful compassion. He should have known something was wrong; she’d been sneezing and coughing since she’d walked in here.

“Little one,” he repeated, placing a tentative hand on her small shoulder. “I want to help you, but you have to help me, too, okay?”

She nodded weakly.

“What’s your name?”

“Ah–” A painful sneeze. “Ahsoka.” She shut her eyes tight.

“Okay, Ahsoka,” he nodded, trying to channel as much peace through his touch as he could. This was not the time to lose control, but here he was, a blubbering fool as this youngling lay helpless in front of him. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? What hurts?”

“Head,” she muttered. “Tummy. Arms. Feet.”

“It all hurts?”

“Gonna die,” she sighed, even while shivering.

If he wasn’t so scared she was right, he may have laughed at her ridiculous dramatics.

“You’re not going to die, Ahsoka,” he assured her, ruefully, laying the back of his hand across her forehead. “But you do have a fever.”

Obi-Wan frowned, looking around the room. There was no medical supplies nearby, and Master Nu had gone to her quarters hours ago. He could comm Qui-Gon, but he wasn’t sure how kindly his master would take to being woken for this.

He wasn’t even sure what this was. Obi-Wan didn’t even like kids; they were annoying, loud, and absolute menaces. But...as he looked at the trembling girl on the floor in front of him, his heart softened the tiniest bit. She didn’t seem so bad, this Ahsoka. Mischievous, for sure. Not someone Obi-Wan would have gravitated toward during his days in the creche at all. But she was...funny. Quick-witted. And–

Painfully adorable.

“All right, young one, I’m going to need you to stand back up so I can get you to a healer. Can you do that for me?”

She grimaced at the request, but made an effort to stand anyway. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but respect her determination. His hand caught under one of her arms and he hoisted her up to her feet, moving to let go, but she gripped the material of his trousers and collapsed into his leg.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “All right, then.”

He tried to step forward, but her arms only snaked around his leg, successfully anchoring his foot to the floor. His reflexes were the only thing to keep him from tripping over himself and collapsing.

“Ahsoka,” he sighed. “You have to walk...and let me walk...if you want to get better.”

“My legs are achy,” she whimpered, looking up at him with those big, blue aggravatingly commanding eyes. What could he possibly say to that except–

“Okay.” He scooped her up into his arms and began the jaunt to the Halls of Healing.

Ahsoka smiled at him briefly, her toothless grin shooting straight into his heart, before nestling her head into the crook of his neck. Once again, he was taken aback by how very warm she was.

“We’re going to make a pit stop,” Obi-Wan told her, quickly ducking into a ‘fresher off the side hall. Balancing the girl in one arm, he made a pathetic attempt to rip off paper towels, groaning in frustration until an entire towel roll from the other side of the room came barreling into his chest. He looked down at it in surprise before hearing a tiny giggle.

“Did you just–” He shook his head in half-hearted chastisement. “That’s not proper use of the Force, little one.”

“I was helping you, so it’s allowed.”

“That’s not how–” He shut his eyes, sighing deeply. He wasn’t about to pick a fight with a six-year-old. Finally, he managed to run the towels under running water and folded them into a neat square. Still struggling to balance the youngling, he placed it on her forehead.

She jumped at the cold sensation, but leaned into it, letting her head drop entirely into his hand. He couldn’t stop being amazed at the fact that her entire head practically fit in his hand.

“Better?”

She sighed happily. “I’m healed,” she croaked, before spazzing into a sneeze.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes with a snort. “Sounds like it.”

“No healers,” she insisted, even as her body shook again. “Medicine is gross.”

“You need proper care, little one.”

Ahsoka wrapped her hands around Obi-Wan’s, guiding him to keep the towel on her forehead as she curled back into his neck. He didn’t understand why she didn’t just take the towel and do it herself, but who was he to question the inner workings of a crecheling.

“No medicine,” she whispered, shivering against him. “Just need you.”

#my fic #whump prompts #obi & soka #PADAWAN obi & BABY soka #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #grandmaster and grandpadawan LOVE #star wars fanfic

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mkstrigidae · 3 years ago

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Current WIPs and Fic Concepts

I promised I would do this yesterday, and then I forgot!!! (I was very sleep deprived). Anyways, here are a bunch of the WIP premises that I have in my 'unfinished drafts' folder. Most have at least a few pages written for them, but I love them all! ☺️💕

- A Santa Clarita Diet AU (Jonsa) Takes place in sunny southern California, where a shitty dinner at a mediocre restaurant turns into a huge problem for Jon and Sansa when Sansa's heart stops beating. Although she seems fine, Jon is flabbergasted several days later as he watches his wife- who alphabetizes their pantry and refuses to let anyone wear shoes in the house- rip the throat out of one of the sleazy new partners at their law firm, eating half of him before anyone processes what's going on. Hilarity ensues as Sansa's inhibitions and filter disappear, Arya ropes an extremely confused Gendry into helping figure out what the hell is going on just because he moderates the zombie forum on reddit, and Jon tries to deal with the fact that the woman he loves more than anything is now a humanitarian. He really could use a drink. (This one is actually mostly complete, but i need to refine a few things- i really love it. It's as gory and irreverent as the show, so viewer discretion advised, but it's a BLAST to write).

- A Thor/MCU AU (Jonsa, Steve Rogers/Sansa)- Asgardian prince Aegon is banished to Midgard after one too many arrogant decisions, and is promptly hit by a van containing Dr. Sansa Stark, Dr. Barristan Selmy, and Margaery Tyrell- two astrophysicists studying wormholes and Sansa's best friend and pseudo-intern. Marg yells at him, he yells back, Sansa tases him, and Barristan didn't sign up for the kind of heavy lifting that getting a 200+ pound slab of muscle into the back of a van takes. And then Aegon's younger brother, Jon, shows up, in the middle of an identity crisis because, apparently, he's adopted. He wasn't intending to stay, but he's rather drawn to Dr. Stark and her brilliance, and against her better judgement, she starts to trust him, and maybe even like him. This story is in about three parts so far- the first is based on 'Thor' and the second on 'The Avengers' and are fully Jonsa, and the third started as a family bonding story between the Stark kids and Tony (Ned and Tony are second cousins, and Ned was really supportive of Tony in rehab without expecting anything in return), and accidentally turned into a Steve Rogers/Sansa Stark story, which is a pairing i am HERE for. A lot of this one is written, but it needs some fill in before publishing, although it's one of my favorites that i've written to go back and actually read.

- A Star Wars AU (Jonsa) where Sansa and Arya are Alderaanian princesses who are off planet when Alderaan is destroyed- Sansa as a senator and Arya as a pilot, both working for the rebellion, and jon is a smuggler who does not know how all of these people got on his ship and why two princesses are sassing him. His copilot, Tormund (yes he's a wookie), thinks it is hilarious. I started this one just the other day, and it's already thirty pages long, most of them involving Sansa and Arya sassing people. Dany is a leader in the rebellion, Roose Bolton is the emperor, and Barbrey Dustin is a disgruntled former jedi trying to live in peace on a remote planet until another Stark crashes into her life and harangues her into teaching again.

- A witches/magic AU (Jonsa) where the Starks run an apothecary and spellcasting supplies shop. Jon had been completely in the dark about magic before his mother confessed to being born into a family of witches. He finds himself traveling to her hometown, trying to understand her world more clearly, and what it means for him. On the way, he develops something of a crush on the red-headed shop clerk who brews the best headache potions in town. Featuring lots of magical shenanigans, this is one of my favorites in the folder :)

- A 24 hour diner AU (Jonsa) where Jon is a local mob boss, and Sansa works the late shift at Seaworth's diner to buy textbooks for the PhD she's working on in botany. Sansa's running from memories, and Jon has a soft spot for the red-headed waitress who always remembers how he likes his coffee.

- An East of the Sun, West of the Moon AU!!! (Jonsa) This is one of my fav fairy tales, and of course i couldn't resist Jon as a direwolf striking a deal with the starks!

- A Roomates AU (Jonsa)- Arya, Jon, Tormund, and Sam have been renting the same house together off Winterfell's campus for years- but when Sam moves in with his girlfriend, they need one more person on the lease. Sansa, about to relocate to Winterfell for grad school, finds out that her boyfriend has been cheating on her and that her housing plans have fallen through, all on the same day. Needless to say, she's a bit upset when she calls Arya to relay the news. There's a simple solution here, if Arya and Tormund can stop teasing Jon about his crush for five minutes. (any excuse to write tormund and arya roasting jon, tbh).

- A Fae AU (Jonsa)- When Sansa, a baker living in the city, washes her face in an enchanted spring on a camping trip, she gains the sight as a result. Suddenly able to see the fae underworld all around her is disorienting and terrifying. Sansa tries to conceal it- afraid of what might happen if the fae around her know that she can see them- but slips up, and catches the attention of Jon Snow- one of the lords of the unseelie court.

- A nuclear winter wasteland AU (Jonsa)- (?? I don't even know how to describe this premise, haha) where the Starks are living and running the Free Winterfell settlement in Siberia after a worldwide nuclear meltdown. Before the fallout, Sansa was one of the world's preeminent researchers in plant genetics and pathology, and works at the settlement to create newer, disease and radiation resistant crops to distribute for free to other settlements, aiming to break up the monopoly that Lannister Corp has on the market. Jon is a scavenger, searching throughout Siberia for his sister Rhae who disappeared several years previously. When he runs across Arya Starkovna, helping her fight off another band of radiation ravaged scavengers is just instinct- he doesn't think twice about it. In thanks, she brings him to the Winterfell settlement, where her brother Robb offers Jon sanctuary and resources, in exchange for serving as a bodyguard for Sansa when she travels to other settlements. Sansa is not particularly thrilled by this arrangement, but given that multiple parties seem to want her dead, she doesn't have much of a choice but to accept his company.

- A reincarnation AU (Jonsa)- of sorts. Robb is an archaeologist who finds a strange set of runes at a site up north, and immediately calls in Jon Snow- a historian and expert in said ancient language, as well as an old university friend of Robb's. When he arrives though, Robb shows him their most valuable finds- two mysterious ice blocks, with what appear to be perfectly preserved bodies from over a thousand years ago. No one could ever have imagined that either of them were still alive, but when the ice melts, revealing two very alive girls, the entire crew is instantly buried in NDAs, and given an assignment from the Westerosi government to figure out what the hell was going on. Sansa and Arya wake up, extremely confused about the world they live in, trying to adapt and mourning all that they've lost, even as the people around them wear familiar faces.

- Soulmates AU (Jonsa)- (Yes, another one, I love this dumb trope) Trauma surgeon and medical resident Sansa Stark is having a very bad day, and ends up meeting her soulmate during what she thinks is a mugging gone wrong. Fortunately, he’s not the one mugging her, just an intervening bystander, but she ends up slightly shot nonetheless. Sansa’s fretting about bleeding on the upholstery in his car, but Jon is a bit more worried about her injuries than the blood stains. He’s a bit confused when she threatens him if he takes her to a specific hospital, nearly has a nervous breakdown when she insists on doing her own triage, and is very charmed when she insists on ice cream after taking pain meds at the hospital. On Sansa’s part, she’s a little less concerned about being shot, and a bit more concerned about whatever weird first impression she’s making to her soulmate while high as a kite on pain pills. (this one just needs some tweaking to be postable- I'm not sure if it's going to be a oneshot or a series, but i love what I have already)

- A Demon/Archivist AU (Jonsa)- where Sansa works in the university's historical archives in Oldtown, and is learning to restore old texts with her fellow student and friend, Alleras (Trans Sarella is an amazing concept). When Joffrey Baratheon shows up with a pile of old books from his family's library to donate, Sansa is eager to get away from his sleaze, and accidentally takes one of the books home with her in her rush to leave. Unbeknownst to her, it's more than it appears, and when she leaves it open overnight, she accidentally summons forth Jon- an ancient, powerful, and extremely annoyed demon who is under a curse, and now hers to command. As Jon and Sansa try to get used to this new normal, the Lannisters (unaware that Joffrey had donated the tome) try desperately to find the book and it's owner, wanting Jon's power for themselves, and putting Sansa in considerable danger unless she can figure out how to break Jon's curse. Fortunately, she's a pretty good researcher, even if Jon is initially a bit of a grump. (This is based on a total wish-fulfillment mary-sue type premise for something I wrote when I was thirteen, and I revisited it and wanted to see what it would look like if i took it very seriously, and i am really enjoying it so far. It's a love letter to the terrible, heartfelt writing i was doing in middle school that created the foundations for my writing today, and so much fun).

The one that I am MOST excited about though:

- A Pacific Rim AU!!!! (Ned/Cat, Gendrya, Braime, Sansa/Jon Umber)-Twins Sansa and Robb Stark have always been completely in tune with each other, and when your parents are Jaeger pilots and your mother invented the neural handshake, what option is there but the Jaeger academy? Sansa studies to be an engineer, but ends up copiloting the Jaeger 'Winter Wolf' with her twin brother, after they lose Ned Stark to cancer. When Robb is ripped out of the conn-pod and killed by a kaiju while he's still connected to Sansa, she barely manages to kill the creature before stumbling back to shore, traumatized, grieving, and swearing that she'll never pilot again.

Unfortunately, the Kaiju don't stop just because Sansa does, and when the end of the world is imminent, Marshall Catelyn Stark orders both her daughter and former pilot Jaime Lannister (who lost his twin and copilot, Cersei, several years previously) back to Hong Kong for one final stand. Forced to face both her demons and an irate Arya, furious that Sansa had abandoned the rest of them after Robb's death, Sansa and Arya have to figure out how to pilot Winter Wolf together before the apocalypse comes for them all.

Featuring Marshall Catelyn Stark (commander of the Hong Kong Shatterdome, inventor of the neural handshake, former Jaeger pilot, and BAMF), Sansa x Jon Umber (Yes i know it's a rare pair but i've always kind of loved the idea of them, even though we know so little about him), Kaiju parts dealer and smuggler Petyr Baelish, bickering kaiju biologist Dany and theoretical mathematician Jon Snow, LOCCENT officer Theon, lots of snark, lots of angst and heartfelt conversations, and a weird friendship between snarky-grieving-asshole Jaime Lannister and kind-quiet-grieving Sansa Stark, who are the only two people in the world who know what it's like to lose a copilot and a twin in the drift.

Thanks for reading guys!! There are more, but some of them I just don't know how to explain quite yet, haha. I'd love to hear what you guys think about these!

#my writing #fanfics #fanfic wip #jonsa #jonsa fic

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amaterasususanno · 3 years ago

Text

WangXian - How the siege could (should) have ended

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Summary:

Wei Ying cares for the Wen remnants. He desires to protect them.

The world wants Wei Ying and the Wen's gone.

In consequence: The siege could never have been avoided.

But: Wei Ying's story could still have been another one.

Rating: M [To be safe]

Status: Complete

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31961272/chapters/79156201

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Since the day Wei Ying had confronted the different sects as they had planned his demise, the dark energy swirling around burial mount had grown several times heavier and harder to control – even though it had only been a few weeks.

Even Wei Ying himself could nearly not stand it anymore.

He kept seeing heart wrenching visions and haunting nightmares. His ears were filled with the wails of the dead. He could hear them pleading him to spare their lives. He could hear them cursing his name. He could even hear their blood rushing out of their bodies as the corpses he commanded ripped them to shreds.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he would see the murders he chose to commit – his acts as ‘war hero’ during the sunshot campaign, like the torturing and murder of worthless men like Wen Chao – and those he failed to prevent himself from causing – the murder of Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli and probably half of all his later kills, to be honest.

Only now did he understand that he had started to lose his senses somewhere along the path he had chosen.

He had believed to be in control of everything, but looking back, maybe he had already started going insane when he was first thrown into the abyss of the burial mount. He had just always been held back somewhere along the borders of being a genius before he could turn into a full-blown madman.

But now? What was there to ground him?

The sunshot campaign was over, Jiang Cheng wanted him dead just like everyone else, his shijie was dead – she had been slaughtered to save him and the people who had looked at him with admiration and called him the greatest war hero of the sunshot campaign, had all turned their backs on him now that they had started to fear his power. Even Wen Qing was gone, and Wen Ning had even died a second death.

And Wei Ying himself had lost all will to make the world understand, that he would not threaten them as long as they didn’t cross him.

Especially since they already gone ahead and crossed him anyway. After all they had dared to lay hands on the Wen-siblings, who had been innocent of all of Wen Rouhans’ crimes. They had even dared to continue trying to fault him for anything that went wrong anywhere – even though he and the Wens were only trying to live a peaceful life amongst themselves.

Besides, it was not like anyone would listen to him at this point of time anyway – after all he had killed a few thousands of cultivators a few weeks back.

And maybe the truth was simply cruel as life itself: A choice had to be made – there would be either the rest of the cultivation world or him. They didn’t want to live besides him. He couldn’t live besides them any longer either.

The hatred inside him had grown to strong – it overpowered all of his senses. It was numbing him, tempting him to do all the wrong things. No, at this rate he would just end up ending all of these cultivators miserable lives.

Wei Ying rose from his bed inside the demon slaughtering cave. He needed to get the rest of the Wens away from here. He needed to at least protect them from whatever war would follow between the world and himself.

Especially considering the fact that either the major sects would come here and try to kill him – taking the Wens down along with him even though they were only weakened people – or he himself would do something stupid and would end up endangering them, dragging them down to hell with him.

As he moved towards the mouth of the cave, Wei Ying found himself stumbling more than he was walking.

His head was full of noises again. His vision was dulled, the resentful energy gripped at his heart and mind. He could feel everything clouding up again.

Maybe the stygian tiger seal was partly at fault for that. It kept attracting the dark clouds around him even though he long since couldn’t deal with them anymore.

Maybe he had really created a weapon that no one should possess – him included.

Maybe Lan Zhan had been right. With everything. Maybe he should have listened to him. But then again, he hadn’t had a choice. He didn’t have a golden core anymore. He could only walk this narrow path in the darkness now – he could only rely on the dead and their hatred.

He had forfeited his humanity when he refused to die inside burial mount.

There was a saying befitting og this. And for him it had most definitely become true. ‘You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain’.

“Are you ok?”

Wei Ying looked up, his gaze found a strange red blotch of color in front of him. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes, trying to figure out who was standing on front of him.

But right now, couldn’t even identify the speakers voice – and suddenly panic kicked in. This could be an enemy!

Quickly reaching for Chenquin, all his senses kicked into an alarmed state of needing to kill the threat. He could feel the resentful energy bundling around the flute – and usually his targets fear would join the hatred he accumulated through his technique.

But right now, there was no fear. Who in their right mind could be stupid enough not to fear him? While he was off-guard due to shock, he felt something colliding with his right leg. A very familiar weight.

“A-Yuan?”

Suddenly his mind cleared again, his eyes free of whatever fog had blocked them before, his ears no longer filled with cries and death wishes directed at him.

Quickly looking at whomever he had nearly killed off, he saw granny Wen. His stomach churned. How could he have mistaken her for a threat? Especially when her lack of fear symbolized just how much trust she had in him, how strongly she believed he would not harm her.

“Sister, granny said I should come to you! She said you were looking out of it ever since you returned here!”

Looking down at the brightly smiling child twisted Wei Yings insides around even more. He quickly put Chenquin away, pushing his guild to the back of his mind so he could pick A-Yuan up, cuddling him close – already regretting having to send him far away to protect him.

“Is that so? What else did Granny say? Did she tell you how I returned?”

Trying to smile and not show that he did not at all remember his returning here, Wei Ying cast a short glance in the direction of granny Wen.

She smiled meekly, then uttered a sudden – and obviously fake – complaint about her back hurting and left.

Wait, what had she told the kid?

“She said you walked here looking like your soul had been sucked out! And you kept mumbling about random things like revenge, wanting to burn the world to the ground, oh and you talked about brother rich!”

The happy way the child chatted about all this made it obvious that he didn’t understand a single word of all that.

In fact A-Yuan seemed to only care about his dear ‘brother rich’, he nearly immediatly went over to telling Wei Ying just how much he wanted to see ‘brother rich’ again.

But Wei Ying didn’t listen anymore. He understood why he had been talking about the end of the world, or better yet: his wish to be that cause of the said event, but why would he talk about Lan Zhan?

Trying to think back on whatever may have made him talk about Lan Zhan, he remembered only bits and pieces of certain scenes.

Lan Zhan had stood among the rows of people discussing how to kill him – so Lan Zhan must want him to perish. Seemingly punishing Wei Ying by taking him back to Gusu was no longer enough to satisfy the man.

The ugly feeling of an all-consuming hatred boiled up inside Wei Ying. Why did Lan Zhan have to be this way? He had already wanted to punish Wei Ying when everyone else had still praised him. And now that everyone wanted him dead, even that overly honorable white marble statue of a man, decided killing him would be better than punishing him? And that even though the Gusu Lan Sect forbade killing?

But of course there would be exceptions. What a hypocrite!

“-mother and father.”

A-Yuans laughter ripped Wei Ying out of his thoughts. He had to blink a few times to progress what the child had just said.

“A-Yuan- what was that just now?”

The boy smiled even broader and ripped his small hands into the air, elated as he started to talk again – not at all minding that Wei Ying had seemingly not listened.

“Granny said you and brother rich had a special relationship! She always said you are happier whenever he is around – you will smile a lot more than usually. So I thought you must like brother rich just as much as me and that is why he should visit us more often!”

Still not comprehending what that had to do with the whole mother/father thing, Wie Ying shifted A-Yuans weight onto only one of his arms, so he could poke his nose with the other.

“Don’t talk such nonsense little radish. I am always a happy person, that has nothing to do with Lan Zhan. Besides, this has nothing to do with what you said before anyway, does it?”

A-Yuan scrunched his nose up, looking like a cute little bunny – especially when he went over to covering up his nose with his little hands – all in order to protect it from future assaults.

“It does! Granny said you liked brother rich like a mommy likes a daddy!”

Wei Yings teasing fingers, which had tried to catch A-Quan off guard and poke him again, froze in midair.

Wei Yings entire face fell and went pale.

What had A-Yuan just said? And why would granny Wen even tell such things to a child? What kind of old-people-joke was this?

Lan Zhan had never even just liked him, he even wanted him dead now!

So how could Wei Ying feel anything else than the desire to defeat Lan Zhan and be as far away from him as possible?

“Besides, he is my father, didn’t you say so yourself?”

A-Yuan may have been nothing but a child, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t smart enough to see when he could get a jab in. After all the kid had always been cheeky. And smart enough to use anything anyone ever said against them.

“I never said that!”

Not even knowing why he was defending himself against a mere toddler, Wei Ying went over to displaying a complete denial.

While he did so, a scene popped into his head.

Lan Zhan was walking through the village at the foot of burial mount with them. He was buying toys for A-Yuan – which earned him the nickname ‘brother rich’ from the child.

At some point A-Yuan had been hungry and-

Wei Yings memory flashed back to how he had found Lan Zhan that day in the first place. A-Yuan had run off somewhere. He had run straight into Lan Zhan.

And being panicked and the little child he was, he had started wailing at the man’s feet, clinging to his cloths.

A crowd had gathered, commenting about how ‘fathers would often be overstrained with their first child’.

And that scene, combined with the later one of them strolling around and Lan Zhan showering A-Yuan with presents, had brough a careless sentence out of Wei Yings mouth.

“The one with the money is the father, the one with the milk the mother.” – And in the context from back then, this made him the mother and Lan Zhan the father as Wei Ying normally provided A-Yuan with food and Lan Zhan provided the child with toys on this particular day.

Wei Ying flushed – God, why had he said that back then? That was super embarrassing!

“You should forget that again A-Yuan. Just call him brother rich, ok?” Wei Ying laughed it off, feeling a bit awkward. Looking back he was actually surprised Lan Zhan had taken all that so well back then. After all with his typical Lan-wits he probably hadn’t taken as long as Wei Ying to understand what his careless words had implied. The man really seemed to have a frightening self-control.

“Does that mean I should call you brother poor?”

The child had definitely seen Wei Ying losing control of the situation. And seemingly Wei Yings mischievousness and insolence had straight off been absorbed by the child.

“Just continue calling me brother. That is enough. And no, before you start calling me brother poor again, call me mommy. At least that gives me the image of someone pretty.”

Being jokingly diplomatic, Wei Ying shook his head, offhandedly noting how his conversation with A-Yuan, even though it most certainly had been a strange one, had somehow given him so much normality that his inner demons for once weren’t to be heard or seen.

Wei Ying smiled a bit more genuinely. The power this toddler had was unbelievable. It made it nearly inhumane to think about him being somewhere completely different than at his side someday soon.

But then again, that was the only way in which the boy had a chance to live and grow into a fine – or not so fine and more troublesome if he took after him – man someday.

“Oh well, never mind. Let’s join granny and the others for now.”

What followed wasn’t exactly what Wei Ying had expected. As soon as he had brought up the topic of the Wens leaving, he was hit with a hours long storm of ‘no’s and ‘we won’t leave you behind’s. Had A-Yuan not been there, the discussion would most likely have turned into a fight.

“Wei Ying, most of us are in no condition to travel anyway.” Uncle four gave Wei Ying a shrug. “We wouldn’t make it far anyway.”

Wei Ying had wanted to disagree, but before he could open his mouth, he felt a heatwave erupting in his left sleeve.

He quickly reached inside it, pulling out a burning talisman.

His face turned dark. The defenses of burial mound had been breached.

Someone was trying to sneak in. And ‘someone’ in this case was most probably an army of cultivators.

“Leave now!” Knowing it would be too late to run now but feeling more desperate to get the Wens out of harms way than ever, he rose up, making sure to make all of the Wens understand that the mount was under siege.

“We lived on borrowed time anyway. We have no issue with dying.” Granny Wen tried to calm Wei Yings down from his frenzied state but failed.

“And what about A-Yuan! Doesn’t he deserve to live!?”

Already holding Chenquin in an iron grip, Wei Ying could feel the resentful energy flowing into his body with the intent to swallow him whole and eating him alive.

And his soul offered no resistance. He wanted the strength, that the resentful energy could give him.

He needed it.

Else the Wens would die. A-Yuan would die.

“No, you must come with us then!” A-Yuan, even though he was much too young to understand what was going on, did so anyway. It broke Wei Yings heart and at the same time gave birth to even more hatred inside his body.

How dare the renown sects act as they pleased and even traumatize a child, making it understand the cruel twists of life much sooner than nature should ever have allowed.

“I will hold them up, I will follow you afterwards.”

Even though the darkness inside of him was starting to blur the lines of reality and hallucination already, Wei Ying made a last attempt on convincing the Wens too flee.

“You will only burden me if you stay around – my abilities aren’t suited to protect, they can only destroy!”

A ringing filled Wei Yings head. He could hear the resentful energy talking to him, updating him on how fast the enemies were closing in. They seemed to be numerous, intend on trampling everything down.

Wei Ying knew they didn’t have any more time to waste.

He turned, left the Wens and rushed towards the top of the demon slaughtering caves roof.

Overlooking the situation as much as possible, he took a deep breath and pushed all the air in his lungs into his flute.

A sharp shriek erupted from the instrument.

Hundreds of corpses rose inside the mounts abysses.

The already awakened dead bodies, which hadn’t already been fighting, lunged at the enemies.

Wei Ying played an aggressive, eerie tune, knowing full well that he was forcing too much resentful energy to move around.

With his instable state of mind and most importantly: his growing self-destructive tactics, he knew all this would backfire.

He suddenly knew he would die today.

All of his restraints broke – he decided to take as many his foes with him as possible, hoping to weaken them enough to give the Wens a last chance.

He closed his eyes, gave in to the darkness, surrendering in his inner struggle, letting the darkness eat away his conscience.

No cell inside him cared about the fact that he was about to murder about an estimated another few thousands count of cultivators just to save less than fifty elderly Wens and a child.

He didn’t care about truly becoming the devil they claimed him to be.

Whatever, in that case he would die as hollowed out shell of a man. This battle would turn him into a resentful spirit, his soul would have to be subdued by destroying it since cleansing would no longer be possible. But that was fine. May they shred his body and soul apart.

He drew even more piercing tones out of his flute, patching them into an ugly version of a beautiful melody.

He could hear the metal sounds of swords and sabers cutting through corpses drawing closer – music followed right after.

It was like an awful cacophony of war.

Wei Ying closed his eyes forcefully, focusing on producing wave after wave of corpses.

Finally, he had created so many of them that he could no longer control them with just Chenquin.

In a show of pure insanity, he fished for the two separated parts of the stygian tiger seal and put them together.

The resulting shockwave of dark energy blew even him off of his spot. He tumbled downwards, crashing down into the dirt, all air was knocked out of him. He tried to regain composure, but the seal was way too powerful.

He could feel the corpses breaking free from their reigns, he lost his control over them in a lapse.

Horror-filled screams filled the air.

The corpses now attacked everything in their way – may it be an enemy or another corpse.

Realising this, common sense suddenly kicked right into Wei Yings gut. The Wens! They wouldn’t be safe with the corpses going rouge!

Just like he had struggled back then – when his sister had run onto the battlefield in hopes of stopping him – he fought to get the corpses to calm down.

He fought to get back onto his feat, fought to clear his mind enough to overpower the resentment in himself, fought to fish out the full potential inside him to revoke whatever hell he had summoned forth.

But there was only one calming thing coming to his mind. A song. A song he had never seen the sheet music off. In fact, he couldn’t even remember where he had the melody from either.

But he focused on the music in his memories and started to put a few handfuls of corpses to sleep.

He needed to reduce their numbers to prevent losing control. He absolutely had to.

Then a scream ripped straight into his soul. Granny Wen.

Dread filled him.

As he rushed to where he had heard the scream coming from, he forgot all about repressing the dark energy. The seal started absorbing more and more resentment in his hand.

He could feel it starting to twist his mind.

Shortly before he could drown in whatever dark pool the seal was trying to pull him into, he was faced with the sight of Nie Mingjue towering above a split-up group of the Wen remnants. About seven of them were lying on the ground. – dead. They had not died peacefully. All of them had gruesome slashes on their bodies. Blood pooled around them, coloring the dark earth of the burial mount crimson like the blood pool.

Rage blinded Wei Ying, his inner pain killing his sanity.

He used the stygian tiger seal.

The Wens peoples corpses rose up – attacking the Nie sect leader.

Wei Yings insanity didn’t allow him to see whatever happened to the other Wens, he could only hear that voice inside his head.

Demanding him to kill everyone who stood against him.

And he gave in, commanding all corpses to go on a bloodly murder spree.

Letting the seal take over, then letting the corpses go loose, he rushed straight at Nie Mingjue, kicking him down onto the ground.

Never had he missed his sword this much. He wanted to slit the man’s throat and let him bleed out more than anything else. He wanted him to face the pain of a sword like he had made the Wens face his saber.

But since he couldn’t fight with a sword anymore and didn’t have it on himself either, he decided to go another path – one for which he did not need a golden core.

With his free hand he grasped for sect leader Nies face, pouring an endless stream of dark energy into the man’s body.

He could Feel Nie Mingjues golden core growing corrupt inside the his body as he went into qi deviation.

Wei Ying could feel the man dying underneath him, but he didn’t stop. He wanted him dead – even if he was the older brother of a guy he had once considered to be one of his closest friends.

“Elder brother!” The call may not have addressed Wei Ying, but it warned him of the incoming attack.

Letting go of Nie Mingjue, Wei Ying jumped backwards, in a quick movement pocketing the seal and getting out his flute, lifting it to his lips.

Lan Xichen, whose original intent it had been to save his elder sworn brother, was forced to dodge the incoming rain of three corpses attacks.

“WEI WUXAIN!”

The new voice didn’t reach Wei Ying anymore, the haze around his senses had become too heavy – Wei Ying could only tell that someone had screamed something.

He however felt an attack incoming and promptly twisted his flute away from his mouth and into the way of the incoming swords strike, effectively blocking it.

The flute didn’t crack or give way.

Instead, its dark energy transferred straightly onto the weapon, running along its blade and reaching for the attackers’ golden core, wanting to corrupt it.

Jiang Chengs sense of danger warned him before he had even understood the situation fully, his golden core alarming him quickly enough. He jumped back, sheeting his sword and summoning his mothers whip.

The ring on his finger quickly transformed into a violet, crackling manifest of a lightning bolt.

Making an attempt to hit Wei Ying with Zidian, Jiang Cheng failed to pay enough attention to his surroundings – as Wei Ying dodged, the whip hit a big rock, which promptly cracked into two halves, of which one nearly immediately tumbled down towards them.

Jiang Cheng moved to the side, Lan Xichen reached for Nie Mingjue and jumped out of the way as well. The boulder hit two unsuspecting cultivators who had been further behind of them, fending off the corpses that threatened to come too close to the sect leaders.

Both of them were crushed into a paste.

Even the resentful energy all around them could patch them up well enough for them to rise up as corpses.

“Wei Ying!”

Still hearing nothing, Wei Ying lifted the flute to his lips once again, playing the attack melody he had once written for Wen Ning. The music enhanced the corpses in a hundred-meter radius of his own position. Making them faster, stronger and most of all more resilient.

”Wei Ying!”

This time the call was paired with someone closing in on Wei Ying – and that he most definitely took note off.

“There is fire!”

Now that he was aware again, he recognized uncle fourths voice.

Summoning a bunch of corpses to keep the three sect leaders in front of him busy, Wei Ying worked on finding out from where the fire was coming.

He quickly noticed it crawling up the back of the mount.

What a great strategy – the sects waves of cultivators came from the front while a fire ate away the only escapes routes the inhabitants of the burial mount had.

Trying to assess how great the danger coming from the flames was, Wei Ying looked around.

He only saw uncle forth and A-yuan.

Neither of them looking good.

“Where is the rest!?”

Dreading the response, Wei Ying rushed over to the two, taking A-Yuan from uncle forth when he hunched over in a fit of coughs.

“Slaughtered, smoked out, burned, drowned in the blood pool, or pushed down into the abyss. And I don’t have too much air left, my old body won’t be able to survive this.”

Wei Ying didn’t even try to convince Uncle forth that he would live. He knew very well that the man wouldn’t live through the night – even without the cultivators threatening his life on top of the flames smoke poisoning the old mans system.

Instead, Wei Ying clutched A-Yuan to his chest, noticing that the boy to be unconscious and running a high fever already.

Again he reached for the stygian tiger seal.

Weij Ying clutched it harshly, using the force of all the resentment in the air, that it cracked.

The crack immediately loosened large bits of the control the seal held over the corpses, making them grow even more fierce and bloodthirsty.

Wei Ying allowed the side effect of the crack, a painful backlash, to shake his body, ripping at his mind and heart.

He knew this little crack was enough to make the corpses all over burial mount run wild – feed only by resentment and not restrained in any form or kind.

Even Wei Ying himself felt the resentment taking him over more and more. But he didn’t allow it to overpower him. Not while he had A-Yuan in his arms.

Forced to watch on as uncle forth drowned in the resentment and died at its hands, he looked on as uncle forth became one of his corpses.

Giving a short whistle, Wei Ying gave uncle forth the command to protect A-Yuan and escape with him – to bring him somewhere far away and put him down at some families doorstep. Wei Ying would just hope the best from there on.

After he was sure the corpse wouldn’t defy his orders, he laid the unconscious toddler into the corpse’s arms.

A few moments later he found himself engaged in a fight with Lan Xichen.

Since his mind was still rather clear, he could easily see through all of Lan Xichens attacks. He had crossed swords with Lan Zhan often enough to know all the Lan sects preferred moves.

And mind you, Lan Zhan was much better than Lan Xichen when it came to fighting.

Lan Xichen lacked the fierce determination to come out as the victor. He was too soft. He tried to reason things out. To bad, Wei Ying didn’t feel like reasoning things out.

In fact, he managed to gain the upper hand and push Lan Xichen back more and more.

Only a little bit more and he would have him-

“Don’t move Wei Ying!”

Turning, surprised to hear his adoptive brother behind him, as he had never noticed him move there, he was even more shocked when he saw A-Yuan in Jiang Chengs grasp.

The purple clad man was holding the poor child by his ancle, letting him dangle down from his hand.

“Let go of him!” Not watching Lan Xichen in his panic, Wei Ying suffered a sidewards incoming blow to his upper arm, a deep gash ripping his flesh wide open.

He only felt a dull pain, the resentful energy had taken most of his senses out already.

His eyes stayed on A-Yuan.

“So, this kid didn’t get kidnapped by you? Is he yours?”

The way Jiang Chengs voice went from gruesome to pleased in a sickening way.

Wei Ying growled.

“Let. Him. Go. This is between you people and me. A-Yuan has nothing to do with this.”

“Shijie had nothing to do with this either!”

With that Jiang Cheng lifted the blade of his sword, pointing it at A-Yuan dangling from his other arm.

Wei Ying blackened out.

Within a split second he had lifted his flute to his lips, commanding all dead spirits of burial mount forth at once.

Vengeful spirits didn’t take as much effort to summon as corpses did, so Jiang Cheng found himself drowning in them within a heartbeats time.

He had to let A-Yuan go unless he wanted to be corrupted right on the spot.

Wei Ying rushed forwards, moving to catch the child before he quickly distanced himself from the scene, not wanting to risk his own spirit being overwritten.

As soon as he was a safe distance away, he looked at A-Yuan.

His breathing had gone from labored to shallow.

The child was dying.

And that was when Wei Ying finally lost it completely.

Now not only were all of the Wens gone, no, even A-Yuan would be dead soon. And he himself too.

And that was when it hit him. Yes, he had known he would die along, but he hadn’t had what it took to end his life right on the spot.

But now he had gained exactly that.

So may the suicidal mass murder start.

He fished out the stygian tiger seal and slammed it into the ground, kneeling down next to it – holding A-Yuan cradled to his chest.

Drawing in all the resentful energy he could accumulate, Wei Ying gathered it where his golden core would usually have been sitting.

After he was sure he had bundled enough hatred, he then proceeded to push it directly into the stygian tiger seal, intending to crush it once and for all.

He could see Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao, Su She and a bunch of other cultivators close in on him. They seemed to have gotten past the corpses.

But that wouldn’t do them any good. The spirits around Juang Cheng quickly washed over to them as well, giving Wei Ying the time he needed to execute his plan.

He only had to obliterate that evil-summoning seal. That way no one would be able to use it ever again – not him and not anyone else.

And everyone on this mount would be whipped out as side effect.

A-Yuan and he himself would perish due to the backlash of the whole affair. The rest of the cultivators, who were further away from the seal, would die due to the fierce corpses going absolutely rampant.

And the corpses that were left standing after all this was over would roam burial mount for all times, keeping everyone else away from it – that way no one could ever come here again and start to accumulate this raw evil energy, like he had done it after being dropped here.

This would be the final battle – taking out the grandmaster of demonic cultivation and all the sects who had been stupid enough to come here on this day. Or at least all the cultivators of said sects who were present.

The seal started to crack more and more. Wei Ying watched on, his eyes cold, uncaring – in the face of death he found himself calmer than ever.

Then suddenly, he saw a flash of a memory.

He saw the seals memories.

He saw the times he had used it.

He saw… Lan Zhan?

Focusing on that particular frame, he saw the battle a few weeks ago.

He saw himself going wild, loosing all sense and even consciousness as he blacked out and fought simply fueled by resentment. He saw what happened after his memory had stopped keeping track of his doings.

He had murdered nearly everyone. No surprise there.

Only a few were left standing – and even they weren’t really standing anymore.

He could see the poor few still living crawling on the bloodied ground, trying to get up as he towered above them, crushing the hand of a cultivator reaching for his sword.

Then he saw Lan Zhan.

He was limping, his usually pristine white robes were dirtied and bloodied.

His headband was slightly crooked, his hair no longer neatly styled – he no longer looked like an untouchable god. He looked… exhausted. Human.

“Wei Ying”

Lan Zhans voice was still strong, but it sounded pleading. It sounded like a ‘Please stop’.

Wei Ying saw himself, saw how he didn’t even take note of it. Saw how he was attacked once more.

And then he saw the impossible.

It wasn’t him who blocked the blow. It was Lan Zhan.

“Traitor!”

Wei Ying had absolutely no idea who that ruffled up guy was, but he seemed familiar. Su She? Maybe?

Lan Zhan remained quiet.

Wei Ying himself as well. He watched the memory, saw how his past self remained unmoving, looking like an angered corpse that was somehow still shedding tears.

“How can you defend him again! I always knew you weren’t as upright as you always acted! You court the devil by keeping that man alive!”

“No.”

The way Lan Zhan spoke made it obvious that he did not think of Wei Ying as evil.

Wei Ying couldn’t help but be surprised.

He kept on pressing down onto the seal, hoping to see the rest of the memory before the seal broke and he perished along with it.

He needed to know why Lan Zhan had been defending him.

And he did find out.

The memory progressed with Lan Zhan bringing Wei Ying from the battlefield.

Wei Ying could see how out of it he was, he could see that nothing would have ever reached him in that state, but Lan Zhan kept trying.

He was taking Wei Ying to a safe spot – a cave far away from the battle.

And as though that was not already enough, Lan Zhan started to take care of Wei Yings wounds, speaking soft reassuring words while Wei Ying kept trying to push him away, even cursing him.

But Lan Zhan tolerated it all.

And that was when Wei Ying got a glimpse of Lan Zhans eyes – in that memory he looked different.

And suddenly something clicked inside Wei Ying. Lan Zhan didn’t hate him.

But before the stone, that had been kicked into motion, could turn into a landslide, the memory showed its last scene.

Thirty three men appeared behind Lan Zhan, they demanded him to hand over Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan blocked them, even though they were clearly all elders from his clan.

He told them to step back – they did not.

He warned them not to try and touch Wei Ying – they tried.

Lan Zhan fought them all, striking them all down. In the end he said he would accept punishment for his crimes, he would go with them, but he wouldn’t let them harm Wei Ying.

Seeing how little choice they truly had, the elders accepted. Otherwise Lan Zhan could and probably would have cut them apart.

Lan Zahn faded out of the memory, just like the elders.

Tears suddenly filled Wei Yings eyes. But not because of himself.

He had been a student at Gusu Lan for long enough to know what punishment someone would get for hurting an elder and defying them.

And hurting thirty-three of them would mean thirty-three times the punishment: thirty-three lashes from the disciplinary whip.

Lan Zhan couldn’t have survived that.

Wei Yings emotions scrambled into place, finally he understood.

Lan Zhan had never accepted anyone breaking the rules, touching him or calling him by his birth name – but Wei Ying always got away with it – even if he was punished.

Still: Lan Zhan had never punished him any more severe than the rules asked for.

And back then when they had fought the tortoise of slaughter, he had refused all ideas that would have ended in Wei Ying sacrificing himself.

And much, much later, when everyone had called him a genius, a war hero, Lan Zhan was the only one who had told him off.

He was the only one who told him how much Wei Ying was harming himself.

So looking back, Lan Zhans ‘Come back to Gusu with me’ had probably never referred to a punishment.

Lan Zhan had wanted to help him.

Only an Idiot wouldn’t get that after seeing that memory.

Lan Zhan had looked at him with so much fond caring, there was no way that Lan Zhan didn’t care for him in one way or another.

Suddenly Wei Ying wanted nothing more than to see Lan Zhan and apologize.

Hopefully they would meet in death.

He pushed down onto the seal a final time, watching it crashing apart, finally giving in underneath the pressure and breaking into a million tiny pieces.

Wei Ying closed his eyes, accepting his fate with the last few tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Here I come Lan Zhan, I hope you can ever forgive me.”

When the wave of resentment came, it felt different than Wei Ying had assumed.

He had assumed it would rip his body into thousands of shreds.

He had assumed it would make him feel like he was burned and eaten alive.

He had assumed it would be an oppressive force taking all his life force from him.

But instead, all the energy crawled into his body, seeking a spot where it could be assembled and bundled – it didn’t want to be destroyed.

In consequence it didn’t destroy him either, it made him a vessel once again – like he had been before he had created the seal.

And instead of killing him off with the sheer amount of resentment that now swam around in his body, it formed something that felt like a golden core inside him.

He lived.

A-Yuan survived too. Still looking sick and weak, but breathing nonetheless.

And –

Wei Ying couldn’t believe his eyes.

Before him sat the one person he had been dying to meet.

Lan Zhan.

Ok, maybe he was dead.

“…Wei…Ying?”

Hearing the mirage in front of him speaking, Wei Ying tumbled forward, throwing an arm around Lan Zhans neck, crying into the mans neck as he pulled himself closer, nearly squishing A-Yuan between them.

“I am so, so sorry Lan Zhan, I misunderstood you – I take everything back. You were right, I was wrong – with everything. Please forgive my insolence!”

Wei Ying could feel Lan Zhan freezing up, could feel him flinch, then he felt something wet on his arm. The arm that he was embracing Lan Zhan with.

Before Lan Zhan could say anything, Wei Ying moved himself away and took Lan Zhan in.

He was only clad in sleeping wear. He was looking pale and sweaty. He didn’t smell like sandalwood like usually, instead he smelled of blood and bitter medicine. And there was blood on Wei Yings arms. Meaning that blood had to have seeped through Lan Zhan’s robe in his back and neck.

In fact Lan Zhan looked like he should be in a med bay instead of sitting around in the dirty burial mounts where his wounds could infect.

“Lan Zhan, I-”

This time Lan Zhan cut him off. “Minor wound. Don’t worry.”

Wei Ying went numb.

Wait.

The blood had come from Lan Zhans back and neck, right? Had these heartless Gusu People really whipped him thirty-three times? If so, how had he survived that?

But that much was clear as day: if Lan Zhan could bleed then he must be alive – in consequence both of them were alive. And on burial mount. During a siege on nonother than him – Wei Wuxian the cultivator who became the devil.

Wait, that actually brought forth many more questions. For example: how had Lan Zhan even gotten here? He didn’t look like he had participated in the siege after all.

Was that something the seal had pulled off? Some sort of ‘fulfilling your last wish’ joke?

“Wangji.” The shocked voice behind Land Zhan riled Wei Ying up.

How could Lan Xichen permit his brother to be punished this much and then act worried only a bit later!?

Without thinking about it, Wei Ying rose up and moved around Lan Zhan to block him from his brothers view.

“Wangji, I have already seen you. And even if I don’t know how you got here, please listen to reason and come here. You have been punished enough. Ask yourself – is this worth all your pain?”

Wei Ying was indignified at Lan Xichen ignoring him like this, but unwillingly he saw that Lan Xichen had a point in his words.

After all this was a siege against Wei Ying. And if Lan Zhan sided with him – should he ever do so – he would be taken down as well. And that was not at all acceptable.

Especially not now that Wei Ying was aware of how good and noble Lan Zhan truly was.

“Brother, Wei Ying is good.”

Wei Ying froze. Lan Zhan sounded like he was accusing his brother and the rest of the cultivators for having pushed Wei Ying into a corner – he spoke like he saw no wrongdoings in Wei Yings actions – like he believes Wei Ying was just exercising his right to defend himself and live. Like Wei Ying was just using the wrong means for the correct causes.

“Wangji!”

“I am impressed, how did you manage to twist the esteemed Hanguang-Jun like that? Since when have you two been this close?”

When Jiang Wangji stepped in, Zidian crackling in his hand, Lan Zhan stepped besides Wei Ying, showing no sign of intending to justify anything or rectify any accusations Wei Yings brother had made.

Wei Ying himself didn’t bother with his brothers’ words either. Instead, he just found himself puzzled as to why the vengeful spirits seemed to have been destroyed by the few cultivators in front of them.

They shouldn’t have been that weak.

And no one other than him should have been able to call them back – and he definitely hat not done so.

“Wangji, please.” Never had anyone seen Lan Xichen this pleading. “Return home with me. You shouldn’t let your feelings lead you onto the wrong path.”

“Not the wrong path.” Lan Zhans tone was harsh, unforgiving. “My choices.”

“Then go down with Wei Wuxian for all I care!” Jiang Cheng flicked his wrist and like a snake, Zidian shot forward.

It didn’t take a genius to see that Lan Zhan wouldn’t be able to dodge. He couldn’t block either. He had no weapon.

Without thinking Wei Ying moved, standing in between the whip and Lan Zhan, letting his back being frayed open as he faced Lan Zhan – shielding A-Yuan and Lan Zhan.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan made a move to reach for Wei Ying to stabilize him, but with his injuries the movement was too fast, forcing him back to his knees.

It had been a wonder for Lan Zhan to be able to stand in the first place anyway.

“Wangji!” While Lan Xichen only called out for his brother, Wei Ying went down with him, hugging the other man to his chest to help him take weight off his back. A-Yuan now lying across Wei Yings legs as he kept his back turned to his enemies so he could adjust Lan Zhans posture.

“It’s enough Lan Zhan. I understand. But that won’t change my crimes anymore. I will be convicted for them, so don’t involve yourself anymore. Thirty-three lashes are enough. I know you are the most righteous person in this world, but you shouldn’t have to suffer for my wrongdoings. Please don’t let your morals cause your death.”

“Don’t act like the generous hero here!”

A second lash came in, crackling down on Wei Yings back, but Wei Ying didn’t turn. He only looked at Lan Zhan. Trying to convince him of his words.

“Sect leader Jiang, let me handle this, please.” Lan Xichen spoke up, earning a huff from Jiang Cheng but the whip-lashes indeed stopped.

“Wei Wuxian, please let Wangji go. He has suffered enough on your accord.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s soft tone shocked all present people equally – just for very different reasons.

Nie Mingjue, who seemed to have been able to avoid qi deviation, was pretty sure that Lan Qiren would go into qi diviation pretty soon too. Now that he had heard the absolute devotion in Lan Wangjis voice, he suddenly understood why Lan Wagji and Wei Wuxian had continuously fought among themselves during the sunshot campaign. He may have been a savage man in his nature, but he wasn’t stupid. He could differentiate between fights caused by being too different and fights caused by emotional involvement and worry. He now understood their relationship to be of the second nature, not the first one like the world had always assumed.

Su She on the other hand saw the man he had assumed to be incapable of producing any positive emotion, an arrogant block of ice, speak as though he was trying to convey all his thoughts and feelings in just one name. And he remembered. Back then, when the Gusu Lan disciples had fought the waterborne abyss, Wei Ying had dived down to rescue Su She from said abyss. And when Wei Wuxian had been at risk of sinking as well, Lan Wangji had swoped down and dragged them both up even though that was just abut the most dangerous thing he could have done. Su She felt his insides go cold. Seemingly Lan Wangji had been all about Wei Wuxian even back then when they were all just kids – his weakness had never been studies or fighting, it had always been another man.

Jiang Cheng surprised himself: he couldn’t help but feel jealous. He suddenly saw how his own bond with Wei Ying had broken apart while Lan Zhan had managed to stick around even though his situation hadn’t been much different for Jiang Cheng’s own. It was an eye-opener. After all Jiang Cheng had faulted his brother for everything while Lan Wangji seemed to have chosen to believe in Wei Ying. Maybe this siege could have been avoided, had he chosen to have faith in his brother and given him backing instead of forcing him to go rouge.

Lan Xichen, in comparison to all others, was the only one who went downright pale. He could see his brothers love for Wei Wuxian so clearly, that he was sure everyone else would notice it as well. On top of that he saw his brother being more than just willing to die for his love. Right here. Right now.

“Lan Zhan, please don’t do this to me. Don’t make me watch you die.”

Even more than before, the surrounding people underwent sudden enlightenment.

Jiang Cheng’s reaction was immediate. He paled. He had never known his brother to be gay.

Nie Mingjue facepalmed. No wonder had that guy always flirted with every woman but never started anything. He had already suspected Wei Wuxian to be asexual during the war, but this? Yea, that certainly explained a lot.

Su She was more extreme in his reaction. He was simply and downright disgusted. But then again, he wasn’t surprised. Looking back at how Wei Wuxian had always clung to Lan Wangji nothing else would make sense as explanation. Wei Wuxian had wasted more breaths and eye battings at Lan Zhan than all the females around them. It was still a revolting discovery though – especially when Su She thought about the fact that Wei Ying had actually seen him naked once.

Lan Xichens stomach churned for another reason. So his brothers love wasn’t one sided. But even though this wasn’t intuitive: this actually made nothing better. Wei Wuxian would find his death after all. What about his brother then?

“Wei Ying.” I was amazing how Lan Zhan managed to convey so many things with just his name. Wei Ying found himself smiling even in this situation.

“’Then don’t make watch you die’? Aren’t you just too sweet?” Wei Wuxian belatedly noticed his tongue slipping up, but as always, he couldn’t stop his tongue anymore. “Well then lets both live happily ever after with our son?”

Before anyone could react to the ‘son-comment’, a sudden burst of resentful energy washed over them.

The destroyed stygian tiger seal had set the corpses into beast-mode after all.

The onlookers of the Lan Zhan-Wei Ying-scene turned, getting ready to fight.

Wei Ying lifted his flute as well, preparing for a draining attempt at subduing the corpses while moving A-Yuan off his lap.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan reached for Wei Yings wrist as he stood up.

“Lan Zhan, please let me go, I am the only one who can call them back.” Wei Ying shook his wrist lightly, but Lan Zhan didn’t let go of him.

“Will you live?” Lan Zhan looked at him seriously. His eyes intense.

“Good question, I don’t know.” Wei Ying gave Lan Zhan an easy smile, trying to keep the mood light. “But if I do nothing, we will both die. We all will.”

Lan Zhan remained unmoving at first, then he reluctantly let Wei Ying go.

“Thank you for your trust.” Wei Ying gave another smile and turned to face the corpses. He let his senses reach out and tried to sense in what areas of the mount the corpses still roamed free.

The answer was quite frustrating: Everywhere.

Taking a deep breath – drawing all the dark energy in his body outside and into his breath – he started blowing air into the instrument.

The quickest cultivators ahead of him immediately turned towards him. Nie Mingjue, Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen attacked Wei Ying without second thought – assuming he was trying to aid and coordinate the corpses. A moment later Su She started playing some attack music on his gequin.

The other cultivators remained still and unmoving, still facing the front so that they could see the incoming corpses and hold them off, while the others dealt with the Yiling patriarch.

Wei Ying made no attempt to defend himself, he even closed his eyes as he continued playing a connecting melody – trying to tie the corpses energies into a single string so he could calm them all in one go later on.

But his goals weren’t visible to his attackers, so Jiang Cheng – the only one who could deal physical damage effectively from the distance – lashed out with his Zidian first – attempting to stop Wei Ying from whatever he was trying to do.

His plan didn’t work out though. Lan Zhan caught the whip without hesitation, letting his hand be seared and his body be shocked. He nearly dropped to the ground again – after all standing and fighting weren’t exactly a piece of cake after those thirty-three disciplinary whip lashes.

But he remained standing, showing the incoming attackers a straight up glare for daring to attack his beloved one.

In the end, Lan Xichen was the one who saw that his brother would protect Wei Ying until the bitter end or die trying – so he swooped in and fought off Nie Mingjue and Su She while Lan Zhan kept holding onto Zidian, hereby immobilizing Jiang Cheng until the man finally gave in and retracted the whip.

Lan Xichen still remeined standing in front of his brother and Wei Wuxian – not at all liking the fact that he had to defend a mass murderer, but he would gladly do so for now if that meant his brother got to live.

“I am done. I can deal with them.”

Surprised at Wei Wuxians tone Lan Xichen threw a single glance at the black clad man. He was smiling at Lan Zhan.

“How?” Lan Xichen didn’t miss out on the fact that his brother by no way doubted Wei Wuxian, in fact his brother seemed worried about the man at most.

“A secret melody.” Wei Ying winked at Lan Zhan. “It has been playing in my head whenever I needed to calm down – and let me tell you: it works miraculously well!”

Lan Zhan gave Wei Ying a questioning look but let the vague answer pass anyway.

“Go.”

“I will.” With another smile Wei Ying passed by the Lan brothers and all other cultivators around them – except Lan Zhan they all tailed him with suspicious glances.

Wei Ying didn’t care though. He was used to mistrust. Besides, if he wanted to calm those corpses down, he couldn’t let his mind be disturbed.

So, he stayed serene, thinking of the music in his heart, closed his eyes and started playing.

Behind him Lan Zhan wavered, his eyes shooting open as he had to steady himself against a boulder.

That was Wangxian – the song he had written for Wei Ying! And as far as he knew, he only hummed it to Wei Ying once while said man wasn’t even fully aware.

How had Wei Ying remembered the notes?

And-

His heart jumped. Wei Ying remembered. Wei Ying had said this song had clamed him when he needed it. Wei Ying must have carried this song in his heart.

And most importantly: he used it to calm down the corpses around them – showing that his heart must have a strong attachment which he could write onto the corpses by plying the song.

Lan Zhan burst with love for this man.

He couldn’t stand by, he brushed his worried brother off, who had attempted to steady him, walked straight at Su She, took the guys gequin and joined Wei Ying – on his way already starting to play his own song. Effectively shutting Su She’s screaming about Lan Zhan’s audacity to steal his instrument up.

The cultivators could only watch on in bewilderment as they witnessed Lan Zhan and Wei Ying duetting a song all of them had never heard before.

It was a song these two obviously shared in between themselves.

And watching it was nearly scary: Lan Zhan was obviously boosting the effect Wei Yings music had, his pure cultivation nourishing Wei Yings demonic one.

One after another the corpses were put to rest.

Not only did they lose all life, they even sank right back into the earth, vanishing like they had never been there.

The duo played the song twice until all corpses were subdued, the resentful energy in the air fading – just like the resentful energy within Wei Ying and the energy all-in-all within Lan Zhan.

Shortly after having played the last note, Wei Ying wavered and fell unconscious. Lan Zhan caught him and went down with him, landing straight on the ground with his arms wrapped around Wei Ying.

When the other cultivators closed in in them, Lan Zhan glared at them – warning them not to make a wrong move.

And that was how – against all intuitions – Lan Xichen ended up bringing the Yiling patriarch to Gusu. Otherwise, his brother wouldn’t have gone back there for treatment himself.

In fact, because of that, the remnants of the siege, the rests of the major sects and a few others, had come together to discuss what should be done from here on.

Most of them still wanted the Yiling patriarch dead and Lan Wangji punished until he dropped dead, but there were also those who suddenly weren’t in favor of destroying Wei Ying anymore.

Like Nie Mingjue – he had seen how little evil intent had been inside Wei Wuxians eyes after he wasn’t threatened by them anymore. He had been there when Wei Wuxian had called the corpses off, clearly defending all of them even though he could simply have escaped alone. So, if they left Wei Wuxian alone, he probably wouldn’t be an issue at all.

Jiang Cheng was the same. Now that someone else had stepped up for his brother, he couldn’t really remain standing against him. And even if he couldn’t forgive him for killing his sister and her husband, making Wei Ying live and take responsibility would probably be more satisfying than just killing him once anyway. Besides, he had not forgotten his jealousy from before either. He wasn’t blind – he wanted his brother around. He had just denied that up until now – all because of his stupid pride.

Lan Xichen opposed a severe punishment as well – even if he only did so to keep his brother alive and in the best case scenario also allow him a live with his love.

Naturally there also where those who wouldn’t listen. Su She and Jin Guangyao wanted to execute a punishment ‘to set an example’, while others wanted ‘the evil removed from the word’ – all the while not knowing, that said evil was currently inside the Gusu med bay, arguing with Lan Zhan.

“Stop being so petty! I know you hate others touching you but the head doctor isn’t here right now and your bandages must be soaked if your clothes look like that! Let me change them already!”

“Wei Ying-” It was a warning, clearly, but Wei Ying couldn’t have cared less. “No, you are being unreasonable. Do you want your wounds to infect?” Wei Ying crossed his arms, looking impatient. “Or are you afraid of letting me see your wounds?”

Lan Zhan didn’t answer.

“Whatever it is Lan Zhan, get over it and let me help you. Please. I want to do at least that much after all the trouble I caused you.”

Lan Zhan looked like he still wanted to say ‘no’, but he didn’t. He was clearly affected by Wei Yings display of guilt.

“Besides now that you are my husband it is my duty to take care of you!” Wei Ying realized what he has said belatedly once again. Well, he just had to go and ruin it, right? Him and his loose tongue. He really should get rid of that flirting habit.

“Husband?” Lan Zhan looked deadpanned. His voice devoid of anything. But contrary to his expression, his eyes had taken on a dark sparkle.

Was he angry? Or maybe just on the way to getting riled up like when they were teenagers?

Suddenly very much desiring to tease Lan Zhan like he had done when they were young Wei Ying gave an enthusiastic nod, speaking enthusiastically. “Yes, husband! I mean you saved me, right? With that I am the damsel in distress, and you are my prince – thus a wedding is in order, right?” Wei Ying winked at Lan Zhan, puckering his lips in an act of expecting a kiss before he added a sweet sounding, “Besides we have a son already. And A-Yuan remembers what I said back then. Plus he said I was looking at you like a mommy looks at a daddy, so-“

Ah yes, there it was: Wei Yings teasing backfiring on him. He had not watched his mouth and was punished for it. And he most definitely had to fix that. As in right now.

“But then again, forget it, what do kids know?” Laughing it off Wei Ying gave Lan Zhan a small shove, making him sit down on one of the beds in the med bay, acting as naturally as he could, as he acted like he still only cared about changing Lan Zhans bandages.

“Children are honest. You are not.”

Surprised Lan Zhan would actually say such a thing, Wei Ying stilled his hands before they could come into contact with Lan Zhans robes.

“What is that supposed to mean? I will have you know that I am a very serious, very honest guy. That is why everyone likes me!” Wei Ying paused, then signed and corrected himself. “Ok, why everyone liked me. Past tense. The demonic cultivation gave my image a little blow.”

“Wei Ying?” Asking his ‘Are you ok?’ in the manner that was so much like him, Lan Zhan looked at Wei Ying in mild worry. He did not like the undertone Wei Ying had just used.

“Ah, never mind. It is too bothersome to constantly be surrounded by people anyway.” Wei Ying closed his eyes. “Besides, most of the people I knew throughout my life and actually liked are gone by now, so…”

Lan Zhan fell silent, not knowing what to tell Wei Ying to make him feel better. Social contacts had never been his forte. That was always more of his brother’s talent.

“But you know Lan Zhan…when I understood that you didn’t hate me, that was good enough. It made me happy.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes widened. “Never hated Wei Ying.”

“I know that now.” Wei Ying signed, this time reaching for Lan Zhan’s robes for real. “But I didn’t get that for a long time. In fact, when we were young, I thought you at least liked me a bit but as time passed, I was surer and surer that you hated me for acting the way I acted, saying the things I said and in short, well just hated me being me.” Wei Ying undid the front of Lan Zhan’s belt, careful not to rip at it in case it would pull the fabric of Lan Zhan’s cloths and drag them over his wounds or the bandages. “But at burial mount I saw a memory of the stygian tiger seal. It showed me how you defended me and cared for me after the last battle before the siege.”

“You didn’t remember that?” Lan Zhan sounded surprised, he even sounded a bit pained.

“No, sorry. My cultivation tends to block things out whenever I am going through phases where I feel dark emotions very strongly.” Throwing the belts aside as their backs where bloodied, Wei Ying bent down a bit more so he could start taking Lan Zhan’s robes off.

“How much do you remember now?” Lan Zhan caught Wei Yings hands, not letting him touch his clothes any further.

“Well, you saved me, cared for my wounds, spoke some words I do not recall but remember to be spoken softly and then you were led away for-” Wei Ying nodded at Lan Zhan’s robes, clearly meaning the punishment. “And now do me a favor and set my hands free, I need them to undress you.”

“Don’t.” Lan Zhan’s voice sounded strained – quite apparently so.

“Oh, come on Lan Zhan, I already undid your belt, so we are halfway there anyway. Besides, it’s not like I will peel you out of your pants.”

Apparently, Lan Zhan didn’t take it the humorous way. His grasp on Wei Ying tightened even more.

“I will wait for the doctor.”

“You don’t trust me to do this properly, do you?” Wei Ying suddenly had lost all jokes and fun comments. He didn’t know why, but he was growing angry – the resentful energy escaping his body made that quite noticeable for Lan Zhan as well.

“Wei Ying-” That was a ‘no, that is not the issue’, a ‘I trust you’, an ‘I am sorry if I offended you’ – but Wei Ying wasn’t willing to listen. With Lan Zhan things always had to end like that. Ever since he had crawled back out of the burial mounts.

“Ok then, what is it if that’s not the issue? And don’t tell me it’s your hatred for touching as long you would let another touch you.” Wei Ying tried to pull himself free, but Lan Zhan didn’t let go of him. And Lan Zhan had always been stronger than Wei Ying.

Wei Ying still tried to free himself two more times. All the while Lan Zhan remained quiet, not willing to tell the truth.

“Yiling Patriarch!” Hearing the call of his title, Wei Ying finally managed to pull himself free, quickly using the chance to distance himself from Lan Zhan.

“Yes?”

“The child has woken up. He wants to see you.”

Wei Ying immediately forgot his anger, rushing towards where he knew A-Yuan to rest.

The boy had recuperated quite well. His fever had gone down, he had been clad in new clothes – and even through they sadly were the white mourning robes of the Gusu Lan sect and not something pretty, they were at the very least clean. A-Yuan had even had been provided with a few snacks.

By the time A-Yuan had finished them and gone back to sleep – strangely not asking for anyone of the Wens, which caused Wei Ying quite a few worries, even if it may just have been a trauma from the fever – the doctor had already changed Lan Zhan’s bandages.

That is how he ended in this situation: As he went back to join Lan Zhan again, feeling like he should inform him about A-Yuan’s health, the female doctor – who had just finished her work on Lan Zhan and clothed the man again – went straight up towards him and demanded him to take off his coat so she could change the bandage on his arm. The gash Lan Xichen had left there was quite nasty and bled quite a lot after all.

Not at all thinking about what he was doing, he undressed his clothes right on the spot – until he was only left with his pants.

“You aren’t exactly shy, are you?” The doctor smiled as she got to work.

“Me? No, I have never been the shy type.” Wei Ying send a semi-heartfelt glare into Lan Zhan’s direction, wanting to add a ‘not like the statue over there’ – he was taking the whole bandaging affair quite personally – but ended up with his words stuck in his throat.

Lan Zhan was looking straight at them – or him to be exact. With quite dark eyes. The look was close to an angry one but somehow different.

Anyhow, it went straight to Wei Yings gut, setting something alive in there.

Especially since Lan Zhan had his eyes everywhere but on Wei Yings eyes – he didn’t even know he had been caught staring.

“Oh, what is this? I didn’t notice it before when I wrapped you up for the first time.” The doctor ran a hand along the burn-mark on his chest. “It looks like the Qishan Wen sects coat of arms.”

“That’s because it is their coat of arms.” Wei Ying scratched his head, looking down at his own chest. “I got that mark when I pushed a girl out of the way. I haven’t seen her since though.”

“Do you want me to get you a cream for that? It may lighten up the scar.”

“That isn’t necessary. It has been healed for many years now anyway. Besides, I have so many scars that it doesn’t matter if this one if visible or not.”

“I see.” The doctor smiled. Her mien was a tat bit sad. “Take more care of yourself in the future. Your skin may heal but the tissue will never be the same once it was hurt that deeply.”

“Yes doctor!” Smiling in an easygoing way, Wei Ying watched the doctor disappear, then looked back at Lan Zhan, surprised to find him standing nearly directly in front of him.

“What is it?”

“When did you get so many scars?”

Blinking at Lan Zhan’s question, Wei Ying looked down at himself. “It’s not that bad you know.”

“There were a lot less.” Wei Ying looked up again, starring into Lan Zhan’s eyes.

“What? When did you ever see me naked before!”

Lan Zhan remained silent, instead just continuing to look at every single scar, his gaze hardening when his eyes found the burn mark on Wi Yings chest.

“You should have accepted that cream.”

“You sound like you really hate that scar.” Wei Ying laughed a bit, lifting his hand to feel over the scar. His skin had a strange texture there – much rougher and harder.

“I do.”

Surprised at Lan Zhan not only hating a scar, that was not even on his own body, and even admitting to it, Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan again, this time moving into his line of sight so that Lan Zhan’s eyes meet his own instead of the scar. “What? Why? Didn’t we agree back then that it was better for me to have it, than for MianMian to have it on her face?”

Lan Zhan remained silent.

“Hey, I am talking to you! You are being rude, you know!” Making a scene was one of Wei Yings strongest suits, so he went and acted spoiled – just like he had done so many times before.

“Besides, I don’t see why you would hate something I got because I was selfless for once!”

“That is not the problem.”

Not having expected that Lan Zhan would actually entertain him by letting himself be teased, Wei Ying smirked, forming yet another glorious plan inside his head.

“Well, what is the problem then? The one who I got the scar for?” He wiggled his eyebrows, hinting how he had teased Lan Zhan for liking MianMian back then in the cave of the tortoise of slaughter. “Ah Lan Zhan, rest assured, I never did and never will love MianMian, she is all yours.” He snickered seeing how Lan Zhan’s face shifted into something akin to annoyance.

“Oh and one more secret-” Deciding to add another layer to the teasing, Wei Ying stood straight, coming closer and closer to Lan Zhan’s face before he finally moved to the side a bit and whispered straight into the other mans ears. “-I would have acted the same way if you were the one about to be burned, we can’t have the most beautiful cultivator disfigured, can we?”

Instead of getting Lan Zhan to turn bashful or turn red or anything else that was cute, Wei Ying was shocked to see Lan Zhan flinch.

He immediately felt something wasn’t right. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have come that close to you. Or said that. Or done whatever I did wrong.”

Wei Ying stepped backwards, lifting his hands upwards in a show of ‘I give up, it was my fault’.. Lan Zhan didn’t react. Now this was bad.

“Lan Zhan? What is it? Talk to me please?”

Lan Zhan turned around and went back to the bed, Wei Ying could see how he was forcing himself to walk straight and upright. It must have been hurting his back more than anyone else would ever been able to bear. Or at least more than Wei Ying himself could have been able to bear.

“Lan Zhan, please don’t ignore me, ok? You know I say and do a lot of things, but I don’t mean them, so please-” As Wei Ying hurried after him, completely disregarding the fact that he was still half naked, Lan Zhan let out a shaky breath.

“That is also a problem, yes.”

Wei Ying froze. Just what had he done to mess up this badly? Before Lan Zhan had often been angry at him, but the silent treatment was new – and he did not like it, not at all.

“Lan Zhan, you are making me feel disliked again, I-”

“Disliked?” Even though Wei Ying had only tried to fix the situation by telling Lan Zhan what kind of misunderstanding would come from this, he seemed to have worsened it all. Lan Zhan was definitely in a bad mood now.

“Ok sorry Lan Zhan, I didn’t think about what I just said, forget it. I just-” Wei Ying broke off. What had he wanted? Why were things this complicated right now anyway?

“You know Lan Zhan, I just like you, so I want to tease you, I am sorry.” Giving up, Wei Ying rubbed his face, not knowing how else he should tell Lan Zhan that he was someone he regarded highly and had always wanted to be friends with. He just couldn’t control his tongue. But that changed non of his feelings.

“Do not say things you do not mean.”

“But I do mean it!” Exasperated Wei Ying found himself, for the first time ever, thinking Lan Zhan to be blockheaded and stupid. What would it take for Lan Zhan to take him serious for once? Sure, he joked around a lot but even he had his honest moments! Then it hit him, a genius idea.

“I know what to do to show you the truth of my words!” Rushing past Lan Zhan, Wei Ying went to the doctors table, snatched a paper and a brush plus the liquid ink, and returned to Lan Zhan.

In front of Lan Zhan Wei Ying ripped a piece of the paper off and started to write something onto it. “There! A truth-talisman! I developed it so A-Yuan couldn’t lie to me whenever I asked whether or not he had brushed his teeth!”

Lan Zhan gave him an empty stare, clearly not believing him – once again.

So, Wei Ying took the liberty to take Lan Zhan’s hand and put the makeshift-talisman on top of his palm.

Then he asked a question, his eyes glinted mischievously. “I presented you with two rabbits back in our teen days. Did you like them?”

“Yes.” Lan Zhan’s eyes widened hearing his own answer, his ears started to turn pink in embarrassment.

“See, you can’t lie with that talisman!” Wei Ying snickered at Lan Zhan before taking the paper into his own hands again. “And now ask me all questions you want an honest answer to, I won’t be able to lie or evade the question for once so use this chance.”

And Lan Zhan did. It was nearly a surprise with him being such a goody-two-shoes.

“Did or do you like MianMian?”

Wei Ying laughed; Lan Zhan was way too cute asking that question even though the answer was so obvious. “No.”

“Why did you push her aside then?”

“Because I didn’t what her face to be marred.”

“Would you have done that for everyone else too?”

“Hell no” Wei Ying made a face. For all he cared Wen Chao for example could gladly have been burned. And Jiang Cheng would have had to save his ass himself, sorry not sorry, but being saved was a sweet-person-privilege not an angry-person-privilege.

“Then why did you say you would have taken that burn for me then?”

“Because you being burned would absolutely not be an option – ever. It was bad enough that the Wen sect dared to break your leg back then. I was already angry enough at them for that.” Wei Ying huffed, in fact, yes, his answer reminded him just how angry he had been back then. He would gladly have broken Wen Chaos legs as thank-you back then.

Lan Zhan fell quiet for a moment.

Wei Ying moved his head to the side, looking puzzled. “Wait, aren’t you going to ask me if I like you? I thought that was what you didn’t believe coming from me first and foremost.”

Lan Zhan hesitated for a moment. He didn’t know if the answer to that question would make him happy, even if Wei Ying did indeed like him as friend.

“Come on Lan Zhan, just ask me. Or else I will be sad because you will never believe me that I like you.”

Lan Zhan half-signed, finally giving in. “Fine. Do you like me?”

“I do. You always have been and always will be my favorite person.” At first Wei Ying smiled, glad to finally be asked the important question, but as he heard himself answer he nearly suffered a heart attack.

What was that with the favorite person? Hey, hey, the talisman was supposed to make him say the absolute truth – how did something that mushy come out?

And how could Lan Zhan always have been his favorite person when at some point his shijie had been around as well?

Or…wait a minute – the talisman was making him say the truth.

Wei Ying blinked. He had just realized he was seriously stupid.

He liked Lan Zhan more than his siter because he wasn’t just a friend.

Only now did he noticed how much more of his time he had always spend on Lan Zhan than on all others – girls included.

And he had always cared about Lan Zhan’s opinion more than anyone else’s.

Plus, he had only been this fierce in all his fights and arguments with Lan Zhan because he assumed Lan Zhan wanted to punish him for his ways or condemned him and that was the absolute last thing, he wanted Lan Zhan to desire when it came to himself.

So yes, he was in love with Lan Zhan. Which was kind of suboptimal.

Couldn’t he at least have fallen for someone who might like him back one day? Fate really was cruel.

“Do not lie.”

“Lan Zhan, I literally can’t lie right now!” Ah, good, Lan Zhan seemed to be stupid in this area – just like Wei Ying himself. He hadn’t realized what Wei Yings words had meant. Lucky him – that spared him the rejection and the awkward atmosphere afterwards – plus the heartbreak. Wei Ying however still averted his eyes, sitting down on the floor leaning back with his face directed at the roof instead of at Lan Zhan – who was seated on the bed across from him.

“You make it sound like you love me.” Ok correction: Lan Zhan was neither obvious nor stupid in this area. But he was stupid in another area. He said his words as statement, not as question: meaning Wei Ying could evade the truth since he frankly speaking would not be lying.

“Well I guess-” Wei Ying couldn’t help himself and sneaked a glance at Lan Zhan, wanting to see how Lan Zhan may or may not take a confession – just as theoretical knowledge. He however broke off when he saw Lan Zhan’s Face shifting through dozens of emotions.

“Are you ok?” Asking Lan Zhan that question had come naturally to him but since he was the one holding the talisman and not Lan Zhan, he may not get an honest answer anyway, even if he asked him. Then again Lan Zhan had probably not lied once in bis life. After all it was against the Gusu Lans sects rules.

“Wei Ying, put the talisman aside if you don’t want to tell me. Otherwise, I will ask.” Confused about what Lan Zhan was even talking about – especially since he had just completely ignored Wei Yings question, which could be counted as rude, which in turn would be against the Gusu Lan sect rules – Wei Ying failed to put the talisman aside.

“Wei Ying, did you ever like someone?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.” Now that Lan Zhan had already admitted that much, Wei Ying suddenly had the desire to turn tables – especially since Lan Zahn’s last question for him had hit too close to home. Thus, he quickly took the talisman and slapped it into Lan Zhan’s lap.

“How many people did you like in your life Lan Zhan? Romantically I mean.”

“One.” As Lan Zhan hadn’t been quick enough to get rid of the talisman, he was forced to answer. Even if he was visibly not comfortable with having been made to admit that.

Wei Ying decided to make it up to him with a bit of his own honesty. “Me too. I only loved one person as well. Even though it took me half my life to figure that out.”

Saying it out loud was kind of embarrassing but seeing Lan Zhan’s surprised reaction made it worth it.

And suddenly Wei Ying went devil-may-care. He wanted to know who the lucky one was, who Lan Zhan was in love with, even if he had to admit his own feelings in turn. He was sure Lan Zhan would be too nice to force him out of his life.

Good thing that Lan Zhan was still holding the talisman.

And yes, Wei Ying knew fully well that Lan Zhan would be angry at him for drawing the next bit of information out of him – but whatever, he was a fool in love so he was allowed to do stupid things.

“Who is the one you love?”

Wei Ying had never seen Lan Zhan cast a silencing spell this quickly. Especially not on himself.

“That is cheating!”

Lan Zhan gave Wei Ying a that-question-was-off-limits-look. Wei Ying pouted.

“Fine, fine. Then another question, ok?”

Lan Zhan didn’t lift the silencing spell, seemingly afraid of the prior questions answer tumbling past his lips – or he was simply burdened with serious trust issues now.

“Come on Lan Zhan, I promise to be good. I won’t pull such a trick again. I will even tell you something more intimate about me, that you want to know as apology. So, pretty please, forgive me?” Trying his best to look cute and lovable, Wei Ying gave Lan Zhan the puppy dog eyes – which was ironic given Wei Yings fear of dogs.

But Lan Zhan remained unmoved.

So, Wei Ying did the only thing he thought to be possible.

He played the game with and against himself to get back on Lan Zhan’s good side.

“Did you ever attempt serious advances at someone other the one you loved?” Quickly snatching the talisman from Lan Zhan, Wei Ying made himself force-answer the truth.

And he was quite glad he added the ‘except the one you loved’ clause – after all he was quite sure he had been serious to a certain degree when flirting with Lan Zhan at times. “No.”

Putting the talisman back into Lan Zhans lap, Wei Ying smiled again, trying to get Lan Zhan to loosen up. “There you have it, I am actually quite a sensible man. So please talk to me again?”

But instead of talking to him right away, Lan Zhan seemed to progress what he had just heard first. Then he picked up the talisman again and pushed it back at Wei Ying before lifting his silencing spell and asking his next question – quite obviously happy that the answer he had priorly hidden had not tumbled out along with the question.

“Did you ever kiss someone?”

To say Wei Ying was shocked at such an intimate question would have been a grand understatement but given the fact that he was holding the talisman, he had to answer. And actually, he was surprised at his own answer – wasn’t it a lie after all? “No.”

Lan Zhan froze. “You lied. How is that possible?”

Wei Ying, still under the effect of the talisman, answered right back. “I didn’t and it isn’t. I never kissed anyone.” Well ok, as long as he said it like that it was true. After all he had not done the kissing – he had been kissed.

Wei Ying had never seen Lan Zhan look so furious as he did right now. “Do not lie to me. I know you have kissed someone before.”

“Lan Zhan I really can’t lie right now as long as you ask me something! Besides, how would you know whether or not I had-” Wei Ying broke off. Wait, wait, wait. The only kiss he had had and thus the only kiss Lan Zhan could know of was that one – or rather the series of kisses – that was stolen from him at Phoenix mount. And no one except him and that overly strong girl should have witnessed that. The resentful energy inside him was way to weary of all people to not inform him about another presence had there been one. So that only left…the girl?

Oh. Wait: had that girl gone running around telling everyone about that!?

Well, that made it kind of embarrassing.

Or wait, no, right: After that kiss Wei Ying had meet Lan Zhan and they had talked about kisses. Or rather Wei Ying had told Lan Zhan about how many kisses he had had and teased Lan Zhan about how his lips would probably stay virgin for the rest of his life.

Suddenly Wei Ying had to laugh – so that was what this was about. “Ok, I admit it Lan Zhan, I lied to you back then.” Holding up the truth-talisman to empathize that he was indeed telling the truth right at this moment, Wei Ying smiled even broader, even now still feeling amusement at his teenager self’s way of acting. “Back then at Phoenix mount-”

Wei Ying definitely saw Lan Zhan’s eyes dodge his at that – which was strange. Hadn’t he wanted the truth in the first place after all?

Choosing to ignore that detail, Wei Ying continued with his explanation. “-I told you I had already kissed dozens of people dozens of times, right?”

Watching Lan Zhan turn back towards him, like he had not expected this but something else to be brought up, but now that it was something else than what he had feared, he was interested again, Wei Ying just had to smile again. How could anyone be this cute at Lan Zhan’s age and size?

“Well, my dear Lan Zhan, that was a lie.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes widened once again, suddenly the tip of his ears shone a bright red. “So, your first kiss was…?”

By the Lan Zhan trailed off, Wei Ying couldn’t stop himself from answering anymore. His reflexes of putting the talisman had been too slow and he couldn’t silence himself, so yes, he was in for an embarrassment.

“My first kiss was stolen from me just before I meet you on Phoenix mount. I don’t even know who it was.”

Lan Zhan didn’t move an inch – but the way his eyes suddenly seemed to have turned into deep, dark swirling pools of something powerful, made Wei Yings mouth go dry.

On instinct he licked his lips – not realizing how sensitive his lips seemed to be. His stomach however knew – if that flutter was any indication.

And Lan Zhan, who seemed to be tracking his tongues movement with his eyes, wasn’t helping to ease that feeling inside him either.

So, in order to get his attention somewhere else, he did what he always did. He started to ramble. “Well but you know, it was really strange. You know, I was already cultivation the dark path back then but the resentment inside of me made no move to defend me. Thus the one who kissed me must actually have been someone who the energy knew and knew of that I trusted them.”

Lan Zhan kept starring down at Wei Ying, making the other one’s mind grow even more chaotic, casing Wei Yings rambling to worsen – with the worst part being that Wei Ying still held onto the truth talisman.

“But I didn’t have that many people whom I trusted enough to let them come that close to me. Basically, there were only my shijie, and she wouldn’t have kissed me, just no, besides she loved the peacock back then already – my brother, and oh Lord, believe me, if he was the one who did that I would castrate him, but I think I am safe from that ever being a real danger, considering that he doesn’t know anything about love and will probably be a single for life anyway – and well, then there is…you?”

Wei Ying stopped at that. Wait a minute, did this truth talisman turn him into a detective? First off, he found out with whom he was in love with – and generally even just that he was in love with someone – and now he seemed to be finding out who had stolen his first kiss from him?

But Lan Zhan wouldn’t do something like that, right? After all-

All of Wei Yings thoughts skitter to a halt.

Lan Zhan was no longer sitting on his bed.

He was down on his knees in front of him. His hands on his cheeks. His lips on Wei Yings. And he wasn’t going slow either – in fact he was quite aggressive.

Lan Zhan was devouring Wei Yings mouth. He kept going in for more, not even waiting for Wei Ying to respond to him as he separated their lips by the tiniest fractions to bring them together at another angle just a split second later.

Lan Zhan made sure to move his lips from side to side, giving Wei Ying the feeling of their lips being inseparable even if they weren’t glued into one position.

There was no shyness, no hesitation – just an obvious hunger and passion that did not seem to be like Lan Zhan at all. But it was very much like the heated demanding kisses he had received on Phoenix mount.

So, it had been Lan Zhan!

Suddenly feeling as though the sun had decided to rise from within his body at this exact moment, Wei Ying threw his arms round Lan Zhan’s neck, responding as well as he could with his mind not being able to come up with a single coherent thought or course of action.

But it seemed to do the trick for Lan Zhan. He let out a low growl, his hand leaving Wei Yings face now that Wei Ying was pressing back so fiercely.

Possessively, he slid them down Wei Yings naked sides, one hand grasping his hipbone while the other traveled to his lower back, pulling him flush against Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying felt electrified, his whole body was buzzing. His mind went places that had never been explored before.

“God, I love you, Lan Zhan.” Not even realizing how he has started babbling again just moments after Lan Zhan had started to kiss down his neck, instead of shutting his stupid mouth up, he clutched the talisman – which he still held in his hand – even harder, withering under Lan Zhan’s lips.

But the very heartbeat that the words had come out of his mouth, Lan Zhan stopped his ministrations, lifting his face back up to look at Wei Ying.

To others, Lan Zhan may have looked normal, but to Wei Ying, there was a whole other dimension written over Lan Zhan’s features.

The usually golden suns that were his eyes, had turned into deep rich amber colored honey. And even if his face itself remained pretty much unchanged, his ears were red, his breathing a little quick, his lips parted, and there was a fervor written right onto his soul, which spoke volumes of how much and how long Lan Zhan had been dying to kiss Wei Ying like this.

“Repeat that.” Lan Zhan sounded like he was demanding it and yet was pleading for it at the same time.

And even in his dizziness, Wei Ying understood how fragile this moment was.

So, he loosened his hold around Lan Zhan’s neck – startling the man for a second, probably making him fear that Wei Ying had come back to himself and was filled with regret.

“Don’t let your mind come up with something ridiculous now Lan Zhan.” Speaking oh so lovingly, Wei Ying showed Lan Zhan the talisman once again before he held it to his heart.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-Jun, you are the love of my life. You have been since I came to Gusu, even if I only got it today.”

Lan Zhan didn’t move, but he was listening. And he was yearning for whatever Wei Ying was willing to give him.

So, Wei Ying decided to make his confession a grant one. Lan Zhan certainly deserved that. “Lan Zhan, you are not only my sun, you are my entire solar system – without you the sky isn’t infinite and the earth has no gravity. You are my oxygen, and I am dying to breath. I will walk to the end of this earth for you, I will go to and through hell if that means I can earn myself a place by your side.” Wei Ying couldn’t help himself, his lips just started smiling on their own accord. “I liked you when I first saw you, standing there in the moonlight with that regal countenance of yours, those all-seeing beautiful eyes of yours and that smooth voice, telling me about all the rules I broke. Then I came to adore you when you sat in class, all serious, and before I knew it, I loved you when you and I were alone in the library – I loved being around you so much that I took more than one month longer to copy all the texts than I would have needed.” Wei Ying gave Lan Zhan a peck to the lips. “And in case you didn’t notice – I flirted with many, but you were the only one I ever gave a present to. These bunnies were like us, weren’t they? A calm and responsible white one and a quirky, troublesome black one. And even they were lovers. We must truly be fated, I-”

Way Ying had no chance to sprout any more words of eternal love.

Lan Zhan had already shut him up, diving in for more and more of the only substance that could drive him mad with desire. “Like you, adore you, love you.” Lan Zhan was whispering against Wei Yings lips, staying so close to them that his lips dragged over Wei Yings as he spoke. “Want you so much. Always have. Back then too.” And suddenly Lan Zhan went even further, licking Wei Yings lips, biting them, pulling them and finally parting them as his tongue infiltrated Wei Yings mouth.

A wanton sound came out of Wei Yings throat, taking both of them by surprise. But while Wei Ying for once nearly fell into the pit of feeling shame, Lan Zhan seemed to have decided that just one of these sounds wasn’t enough.

He quickly turned Wei Ying into an instrument, pulling all his strings, making him use his voice to create all kids of new noises.

“Want to bed Wei Ying.”

These words shot straight down to Wei Yings lower half – not that that part of him hadn’t already come very much alive anyway.

“Want to bed Wei Ying every day.”

Nearly going insane from all the sensations and words, Wei Ying could only throw his head back, letting Lan Zhan do as he pleased as he sucked on his neck, making sure to lay a very visible claim on his beloved.

“Then marry me Lan Zhan, I’ll be the first and lace face you see every day.”

Wei Ying was only half aware of what he was saying, but Lan Zhan made up for Wei Ying’s lacking attention, by searing Wei Yings words into his mind, making sure to hold Wei Ying to them.

“Would Wei Ying want to marry me?” Lan Zhan pulled back after he had created a satisfactory mark, going back to kiss Wei Ying, talking to him at the same time – being cattier now than ever before.

“Yes, of course, I would marry you on the spot if I could. I have loved you for long already, I have no doubt I will love you for the rest of my life.”

Wei Ying kissed Lan Zhan back with an equal amount of passion, sneakily moving his arms while Lan Zhan was drowning in the sensation of his beloved kissing him back with no less affection or passion than he himself felt.

Then suddenly, Lan Zhan felt his robes parting, his belts and outer garments sliding open as Wei Ying moved his hands underneath them.

“But you will have to live with me being naughty and flirting with you all day and night long.”

Lan Zhan had no complaint regarding that.

His world, his life, was not only in love with him, no he wanted to touch him and marry him too – it made something in Lan Zhan roar in triumph. He bend over Wei Ying, covering the others entire sight. Wei Ying softly raked his nails up and down over his bandages.

Surprisingly Lan Zhan couldn’t feel his back at all – it might have been the pain killers or just his drunkenness of what was happening right now, but either way, he saw no reason to hold back,

For once he went against schedule, against plans and the proper order of things, giving himself to his racing heart and pulsing body.

He pushed Wei Ying down onto the floor, ridding himself of his upper and inner garments at the same, leaving him equally clad or rather naked as Wei Ying was.

Wei Ying drank in the sight of him, and even with the bandages, he saw the most perfect man he had ever laid eyes on.

“Gods, how did I land you – what have I ever done to deserve you.” And with that Wei Ying pulled Lan Zhan back down, demanding to be kissed senseless – Lan Zhan gladly obliged.

At least until Wei Ying drew a leg up and – whether accidentally or not – brushed against a rather neglected part of Lan Zhan’s body.

Lan Zhan’s breath came out in a strained puff. “Wei Ying, if you don’t what to be taken right here, right now, I would suggest you stop playing with fire.”

“And what if I do want it?” Wei Ying took a lock of Lan Zhan’s hair and twirled it in between them. “What will you do if I want my husband to make me his in all ways he can?” Traveling up the smooth lock of hair, Wei Ying grasped Lan Zhan’s ribbon. “Oh, and will I have a ribbon like that too after I marry you? I always liked it on you.”

Lan Zhan turned feral, ripping his ribbon off and tying it around Wei Yings wrists, tying him up before hooking Wei Yings bound-up arms around his neck. “You can have my ribbon right now. You are my husband; you are allowed to touch.”

Wei Ying suddenly paled. “Wait! That is what it means!? God, I am sorry for all the times I just touched it and even pulled it off without even thinking about it!”

“Have always loved you, have always loved the feeling and sight of you holding my ribbon, have always wanted you to take it after you knew the meaning.” Lan Zhan’s mouth didn’t stop forming words, making him talk so much that Wei Ying felt tears welling up – Lan Zhan was so obviously so in love with him, that it wrenched his heart.

“I know now. But I won’t take it off again.”

Lan Zhan froze. But then Wei Ying laughed happily, seeing his games being successful for once. “I’ll just straight up keep it. You are mine! Let the world see. You will get my headband in turn!”

“Then hurry up and get your headband.” Lan Zhan kissed Wei Ying again, relishing in the knowledge that whenever he felt like it in the future, he would be able to claim as many kisses as he craved for.

Wei Ying was finally his; Wei Ying had finally come back to Gusu. And this time Lan Zhan would make him stay – giving Wei Ying the life he wanted right her by his side.

Lan Zhan could feel Wei Ying looked arms around his neck pulling him down with even more force, making him feel like suddenly everything in this world had found it’s place.

He had certainly found his. He smiled a rare but honest. “Do you remember the song you played before? To calm the corpses?”

Taken off guard by the question, Wei Ying tried to figure out where this was going as he nodded.

“It is a song I composed for you. I hummed it for you in the Cave of the tortoise of slaughter.”

Wei Ying stopped moving all along, his mouth open, his eyes wide. “You composed that? For me?”

“Yes.” Lan Zhan gave Wei Ying an endearing look. “I not only loved you back then, I was also aware of my feelings.”

“Are you teasing me Lan Zhan!?” Seemingly not believing it, Wei Ying smiled that happy grin of his. “I can’t believe it! Ah wait- you never told me the songs name!”

Lan Zhan nuzzled Wei Ying as he said, “Combine our names.”

“Oh, so wait, the top comes first, right? And with us, you are definitely the top, I am very sure of that much. So it’s Wangxian?”

Lan Zhan couldn’t help but fall even more for the man in his arms. “Yes.”

“Did you compose any more songs dearest?”

Lan Zhan smiled again, completely besotted. “I will play them for you on our wedding night.”

“Then I will take you to Lotus pier for our honeymoon!”

Lan Zhan hummed in agreement, imagining them side by side, clad in red.

He hoped the wedding would be soon.

And that his uncle would not go into qi deviation over this matter.

____________________

Autors note:

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked the FanFiction!

By the way, all sorts of feedback are very welcome :)

And please feel free to tell me if you have another scenerio in mind that I should attempt to write :)

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saturnznct · 3 years ago

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attack on titan!au, mark lee x reader

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: head injury, physical fighting (for training purposes), descriptions of death, mention of knives and cult

note: will be working through this series slowly! hope u all like this xx

nct dream aot au masterlist

The first time you laid eyes on Mark Lee was in that iconic dusty courtyard. Bearing in mind he was being ripped into by Commander Shadis.

‘And what about you, Lee?’

A twelve year old Mark Lee’s eyes shone with tears of fear. He was clearly somewhat sheltered from the horrors of this world; hailing from the town of Jinae, southern Wall Maria alongside fellow cadet Marco Bott. The two of them were the image of innocence, although they barely knew each other, both round-faced and freckly.

Mark had cowered beneath Shadis’ gaze, likely having never been spoken to in such a way, especially not by his loving family. You felt drawn to him. What was he doing here?

That night he barely said much, nibbling on stale bread. You could tell he did not want to eat, but food was scarce, so he kind of had to. He listened intently to the words of Eren Yaeger who spoke about his experiences with the Colossal Titan on that infamous day two years ago.

Days faded into weeks. You passed your own balance test with flying colours, as did Mark, who’s face would become screwed up whenever his feet left the ground.

While you formed a casual alliance with Sasha, promising to go easy on each other during combat training, Mark swapped anecdotes with Marco and sharpened his wooden knife with Reiner.

One day Commander Shadis had demanded you pair up with Mikasa (likely because he was sick of you and Sasha throwing fake punches) and you were so distracted by Mark that she easily flipped you over, an ‘oof’ escaping your mouth as you hit the ground. When your back makes contact with the sand, your head snaps back, hitting the ground hard.

‘Wait, I didn’t mean that,’ Mikasa mumbles, seemingly unsure as to what to do.

Everything goes pitch black for a split second. When your eyes do open, your head is spinning, black spots dotting the sky above you like stars. You hear Commander Shadis yelling for the first-aid specialist cadets.

Admittedly in that moment you had absolutely no clue who was part of that squad. At this point in your training years, you were especially focused on yourself, working on your own skills and specialities. But when Mark Lee comes barrelling across the training yard your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.

‘Are you alright?’ He asks you as soon as he kneels down beside you, ‘can you see?’

Mark sounds far more concerned and more urgent than you feel, which you find somewhat charming, but your head is still spinning.

‘Mark, remember the procedures,’ Thomas Wagner seems to be somewhat supervising him.

‘Oh, uh,’ Mark holds up three fingers and waves them around as if to confuse you a little, ‘how many fingers am I holding up?’

He’s peering over you, almost like a pet trying to get your attention. You feel your chest swell at how cute he looks.

You blink, trying to decide whether or not you should play up your injury for his attention or get up so you can continue training.

‘Three,’ you mutter, deciding that returning to combat training was worth more than gaining the sympathy of a cute boy.

Mark and Thomas exchange a look.

‘Do you think you can sit up?’ Mark asks, eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

‘I don’t know,’ you mumbled, ‘I’ll try…’

You prepare yourself to have to lift yourself off the dirty ground, but you jump about a mile in the air when he holds the back of your head in his hand, slowly supporting your head as you sat up.

‘I’m sorry, Y/N,’ Mikasa apologises quietly.

‘It’s okay,’ you croak, ‘it’s my fault.’

‘Come on Y/N, we’ll have to take you back to your dorm room to lay down,’ Thomas has a sharp tone of authority, so you don’t even try to argue.

‘Dude, she can’t even stand,’ Mark points out.

‘How about you carry her then,’ Thomas huffs, turning on his heel to deal with some other cadet’s grazed arm.

‘I-I-Is that okay?’ Mark stutters, hand still on the small of your back as he held you up.

You nod groggily, ‘it’s okay.’

And so he scoops you up in his arms, and you automatically cling onto his neck. Mark is incredibly gentle, hand under your leg splayed out as to not touch your thigh.

You’re sleepy at this point, so the walk back to your dorm house is slow.

Mark tilts you to the side to twist the doorknob, the door loudly creaking open.

‘Which bunk is yours?’

‘Right beside the window,’ you mumble, ‘bottom bunk.’

He walks you over slowly, almost as though you were a baby in his arms, before gently lowering you down into your bed.

‘Are you comfortable?’

You nod, shifting around under the duvet to try and get comfortable.

‘Good. I’ll send one of the girls in occasionally to check on you,’ he says, ‘I hope you feel better soon.’

And then he shuffles out, clicking the door shut as quietly as possible.

‘How’s your head?’

‘Huh?’

The cafeteria is relatively empty, it being late than the normal scheduled eating time. You had finished up with your cleaning duties a bit later than usual, hence why you were eating bread at nearly 10pm.

You had been interrupted by a certain Jinae resident.

‘Your head… have you been feeling better? I’ve been worried.’

‘You have?’ Your heart nearly skips a beat at the thought of him worrying about you, hoping that you’re alright, ‘I’m just fine Mark, all thanks to you.’

You don’t miss the way a pink blush creeps up his neck, and he avoids your gaze.

‘It’s what I’m trained to do,’ he brushes it off, ‘what kind of medic would I be if I couldn’t help?’

‘You’re incredibly selfless.’

‘Not really,’ Mark shrugs, ‘it’s the right thing to do.’

’Still selfless.’

He looks up at you then, trying to read your emotions.

‘I just mean that, in this world, people are selfish. People always care more about saving themselves than saving others. So you’re different, in that way.’

‘You think people care more about themselves than others?’

‘I-I saw a lot of things during the fall of Maria.. When my town was under attack, the titans had destroyed some of the houses, and there were people inside, who couldn’t get out. And they were shouting- screaming for someone to help them move the wood or the rubble but nobody listened. I told my dad to help them, obviously I couldn’t myself because I was only nine, but he didn’t. He told me that we had to leave ourselves, that we were responsible for ourselves. Now I know that those people died. They died because my father refused to help, because I was too weak. That’s most of the reason why I’m here, to help people if that were to happen again.’

‘I think your dad just cared about his family.’

‘In the refugee camps, I saw people steal food from other families, have knife fights over money and blankets. We were all in the same position, displaced and traumatised. I don’t know why people were so unwilling to help each other.’

‘Where are your family now?’ Mark asks innocently enough, but you feel your heart sink a bit.

‘My dad was sent out on the recapture mission, you know, when they tried to retake Wall Maria. He died.’

‘Oh I’m-‘ Mark looks at you with wide eyes, as if he had no idea how to react.

‘I don’t really feel any way about it,’ you admit, interrupting him, ‘he was comfortable letting those people trapped in the houses die terrified. I’m sure he had enough time to prepare himself for death before he left, and as he rode his horse out of Trost. I knew he was going to die when he said goodbye to me, and I was quite numb to it then too. My mother left me and my siblings alone in that camp and went to work in the interior to actually make money. I imagine she’s a prostitute or something. I don’t know. I don’t hear from her.’

‘Does she know you’re here?’

‘Maybe. My siblings may have told her. Anyway. Enough about me, what about you?’

‘My older brother is in the Military Police,’ Mark explains, ’the grand jewel of our family… I think my parents want me to follow in his footsteps. But I have no idea what I want to do yet.’

‘Do you think you’ll get in the top ten?’

‘Probably not. I’m not as fit or strong as Reiner, or even Annie. And I don’t have Armin’s brains or intellect. I’m kind of just in the middle.’

‘You have Eren’s will,’ you point out, ‘you care about helping people.’

‘You’re really comparing me to Eren?’ Mark chuckles.

‘I’m not saying you’re arrogant, just that you have the passion.’

‘I know. I just don’t think I have the passion for being a member of the Military Police. I don’t think they really help people as much as I want to.’

‘They’re very culty,’ you grimace, ‘so weird.’

Mark chuckles, ‘you’re not wrong. Every time I see my brother he’s walking around the interior with a huge gun, probably bullying some random kids.’

‘Do you know what regiment you want to go into?’ You ask.

‘I’m still weighing my options,’ he shrugs, ‘the Garrison always seemed like the easy route, just patrolling the streets and sitting around all day. But now they’re basically partners with the Survey Corps. If the walls get broken, they have to fight alongside each other. Either way, I’m fighting titans. It’s mainly just a decision of how often I want to.’

’Wall Rose hasn’t fallen,’ you point out, ‘it’s been nearly three years.’

‘As time goes on, it gets more likely,’ he remarks darkly, eyes fixed on the table, ‘by the sounds of it, this colossal titan seems intelligent. Who knows when it will decide to strike next. Our lecturer said that titan behaviour is incredibly unpredictable.’

‘Don’t you think we’ll be prepared enough to fight by then?’

‘It’s the Royal Government that comes up with the evacuation and fighting strategies. They care more about the preservation of the interior than those in the outer walls. They probably half-arsed the whole plan. As for our training, remember what Commander Shadis said on our first day. Most of us will just be titan feed in the end.’

‘You’re strong though, Mark,’ you state gently, as if he were sobbing and you were trying to console him.

‘You think so?’

‘I know you are. I watch you fight for future every single day.’

Mark stays silent, mulling over your words.

‘You really inspire me to try harder myself. And you’ll be an incredible soldier.’

When Mark continues to be silent, your eyes dart around the room. You catch the gaze of Sasha, who is stuffing her face with the tiny amount of leftovers.

She wiggles her eyebrows at you teasingly, before getting up and walking out of the cafeteria.

‘Nice one Y/N!’ Mark yells as you land a kick on Sasha’s shin, prompting her to fall to the floor clutching her leg.

‘Ow, Y/N!’ She shrieks, ‘I thought you said you would go easy on me!’

‘No titan will go easy on you, Braus,’ you hear Annie comment flatly.

Sasha huffs while Mark comes up behind you, gently turning you around by your elbow and giving you a high ten.

‘You’ve gotten so much better recently,’ Mark compliments, ‘I’m so proud of you!’

’Thanks Mark,’ you grin, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat by his words.

‘Yeah, nice going,’ Sasha grumbles, wiping down her now dusty thighs and shins, before turning on her heel and walking off to find Connie.

‘I still feel as though my fighting skills are a bit lacking to be honest,’ he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

‘Really? Who have you been practicing with?’

‘…Armin.’

‘Ah.’

‘Not to say that he’s weak or anything- he’s definitely not. There’s just a certain level you can get to where you just can’t improve anymore.’

No, I know what you mean,’ you try to empathise.

‘Maybe we can practice together? I-I mean, your usual partner is kind of… limping away, and I just think that you’re really great at this kind of stuff-‘

‘Mark,’ you giggle, reaching out and touching his shoulder, ‘it’s okay. We can fight. But just know, I’ll win.’

You take a few steps back as he laughs nervously. You drop your smile for a much more intimidating glare, raising your arms up.

‘Ready, Lee?’

Mark nods, awkwardly holding his own arms up to mirror your own.

You both stare at each other for a few seconds before either one of you strikes. You lunge forwards at him, swinging your right arm around his neck, to trap him in a headlock. He splutters in your ear, flailing his own limbs around in an attempt to wriggle out of your grip, but fails to do so when you throw out your leg and clip the side of his ankle with your foot, sending both of you to the ground.

He lands first, back impacting against the ground with a thud and a grunt from Mark.

You had imagined that he would let you go as he tumbled to the ground, but he doesn’t, clinging onto your arms and bringing you down with him.

A split second later, you’re also making contact with something, but not the ground. Your abdomens clash together, causing you to make an automatic ‘oof’ sound.

It takes you a while to adjust to the situation. You’re face to face, legs tangled together. There’s orange dust in Mark’s hair, sweat glistening on his forehead, eyes squinting while trying to get used to the sun, cheeks and nose red with the heat, lips-

There’s a few moments of silence, the two of you studying each others faces.

‘Ar-are you ok?’ You stammer, and for a few seconds he does not respond, still just staring at you.

‘Oh! I’ll get off,’ you shake your head, unraveling your twisted legs and clambering off of him, much to Mark’s silent disappointment.

‘Uh, you did good!’ You murmur, ‘just, um, try not to be caught off guard, next time.’

When you turn to walk away, you don’t fail to notice the way Krista and Mina are sitting on the steps of the watchtower, whispering frantically to each other.

You don’t see Mark for a few days after that. Training becomes infinitely more rigorous, since you were split into four groups and sent to different parts of the forest for field training.

You had spent several days trekking through the rain and snow with your backpack on, and afterwards spending a few days recuperating.

Mark was in a different group than you, hence why you did not see him. It feels weird that he’s not there, like there’s a part of you missing, but overall you somewhat enjoy your few days away.

It also gives you the perfect opportunity to completely forget about your weird moment during your fight, and focus on building relationships with other cadets.

‘You don’t think Marco is cute?’ Mina exclaims with wide eyes.

‘No, I mean he’s ok-‘

‘Just okay?’ Hannah Diamant replies, absolutely stunned at your indifference.

‘She only says so because she has her eyes on Lee,’ Sasha teases, sticking her tongue out when you turn to glare at her.

‘Do not!’ You argue.

‘Do too!’ Sasha is in fits of giggles, ‘and he clearly likes you too.’

‘I doubt it,’ you mumble, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed.

’Nah, he definitely likes you,’ Mina chimes in.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain blonde had been paying a bit of extra attention to your conversation.

Hence why you were here now, violently stabbing at your dinner with a fork, glaring holes into Krista Lenz’s back while she whispered to Mark Lee.

‘I thought she was going out with that Ymir girl?’ You don’t have a clue who’s speaking to you. Your brain is swimming with anger, so fuzzy you can hardly think straight.

When Krista goes to whisper in Mark’s ear again, she places a hand on his shoulder, after which you’re plotting ways in which you could cut her fingers off.

’I wouldn’t worry,’ Sasha shrugs, ‘we know, and I mean we all know he’s in love with you.’

‘Even if you’re right, which you are not, I’m not her.’

‘Don’t be so worried you idiot,’ Mina half snaps half chuckles, ‘you’re gorgeous. And a total catch, obviously. Mark Lee would be dumb to not want you.’

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

‘What the actual fuck,’ you mutter, sitting straight up in your bottom bunk bed, coming centimetres from smacking your head.

You whip your head in the direction of the source of the noise.

And there he stands, Mark Lee, in the purple night at your window.

‘What the hell?’ You mouth.

He beckons, asking you to come outside.

You give him an incredulous look, trying to be as quiet as physically possible while getting out of bed and putting on your jacket and boots.

‘What sort of time do you call this?’ You exclaim, exasperated.

‘The best time to go to the lake.’

You can’t help but notice the smirk on his face as he turns on his heel, walking down the gravel path.

You quickly look around for possible bystanders, before following him.

His lantern lights the way as you walk down the hill in a comfortable silence, arms swinging at every bump and skip in your step.

The lake is glittering at this time of night, especially because of how high and bright the moon is in the sky.

‘I like to sit and have picnics in the moon rather than the sun. The food doesn’t melt and I don’t get sunburned.’

‘We’re having a picnic?’ You practically squeak, eyes widening to basically the same size as the moon above.

‘Well, uh, no, we are in a food shortage,’ Mark stammers, ‘but I did swipe some bread from Armin. Well I mean, he gave it to me, said he would take one for the team or whatever…’

’Thank you Mark,’ you interrupt him, grinning uncontrollably, ‘this is really sweet.’

‘But if it’s any constellation, I would’ve loved to have made you a picnic. When they take back the wall I promise I’ll make up a nice spread of food.’

‘Where’s all this come from, Mark?’ You wonder aloud.

‘I’ve just had a realisation recently,’ he admits, gulping.

‘What is it?’

‘I really like you, Y/N,’ he confesses, taking both of your hands in his and rubbing them with his thumbs, ‘and I know that you probably don’t feel the same, and that we definitely have much bigger things to focus on, but-‘

You cut him off by practically launching yourself at him, kissing him.

For a moment he is stiff as a board underneath you with his surprise, before relaxing and reciprocating your kiss.

For a while you sit there, under the watchful eye of the moon, eventually peeling away from each other when you become breathless.

‘I like you too, Mark. Being with you takes me away from this horrible reality. And I don’t know what the future will be like, but I know that I want you in it.’

‘I feel exactly the same way,’ he whispers, still holding your hands.

‘We have to pick our regiments really soon. I think that I might join the survey corps,’ you say, staring out into the lake.

‘I’ll go wherever you go,’ Mark murmurs, rubbing your cheek with his hand, which you lean into.

You sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, your head resting on his shoulder, Mark occasionally turning his head to kiss your hair.

‘What made you decide to tell me this now?’ You ask.

‘Well, let’s just say I got some encouragement from Krista and Sasha.’

’I should’ve known,’ you chuckle, ‘I’ll get them back later.’

Mark laughs, perking up slightly as though he had remembered something.

‘Ready to crack open the bread, baby?’

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talas-starlight · 4 years ago

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Scarred Spirit - Zuko x fem!reader (pt.2)

SUMMARY: reader faces the consequences of interfering with the Agni Kai (emotionally and physically)

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: angst. Torture, semi nudity (NOT sexually) –traumatising!! physical and some mental abuse. Violence. Mentions/descriptions of death. Crying. Swearing. Ozai being a literal nutter. Azula being nutter 2.0.

A/N: THIS IS A REPOST FROM THE AUTHOR OF THIS FIC - I had some complications with the original blog this fic was posted on so please show this some love,, ALL FUTURE CHAPTERS FOR THIS FIC WILL BE POSTED HERE!! hi friends!! Thank you to everyone who showed some love to the first chapter eep! Anyway I’m really scared for y’all to read this one, but!! I’m aiming to have the gaang in the next one so if you hate this I’m sorry but I didn’t want the story to be rushed so I couldn’t bring myself to skip this :// Please read the warnings!!

Also! In this part italics are internalised thoughts 😊

OTHER PARTS: pt1 / pt3 / pt4 / pt5 / pt6

MASTERLIST: Here!

The Fire Lords command echoed throughout the room, encompassing the crowd in a thick silence.

Zuko let out a small gasp, one only you were able to hear. After experiencing just a fragment of the physical pain he endured, you didn’t want him to make any decisions he would regret, especially if he was considering to defend you. You didn’t deserve it. Burnt, dead skin, blisters across your left side in the hot atmosphere around you. Your heart begins to tighten and rip you apart all at the same time, realising how much pain you caused for taking all of those lives.

Continuing to kneel on the floor of the duelling platform, you’re frozen, filled with disgust as you finally acknowledge the person you became. From your first commission four years ago, you were numbed to the experience of taking someone’s life. Seeing the life fade from someone’s eyes as you plunged your flame lit sword into their chest, you felt nothing. It was as if it were just a switch inside of them, nothing more. One moment they were there, the next they’re not. You recall Zemin’s reaction when you recounted the events of your first kill, and he didn’t make it seem like it mattered. His only response was to scold you for showing off because you didn’t need to light your sword on fire to kill the man.

Managing to push through the new thoughts and emotions that have awoken within you, your mind travels back to the boy behind you. Despite what you’re currently feeling, it will never amount to the emotional pain he has after being attacked by his father. Fire Lord or not.

Continuing to face the floor, you can’t bring yourself to even glance at Zuko, barely managing to croak out, “Forget who I am. Stay alive, that would be enough.”

You feel his stare to the back of your head. You wish you could turn around and say something, anything at all, maybe even hold him. Anything to get rid of the disgusting, vulnerable, and isolating feelings within you. You wanted to tell him he didn’t deserve it, even if you didn’t know who he really was. Because as much as you hated to admit it, you were afraid. So fucking afraid. Zemin never taught you what to do in these situations, especially anything involving saving the Prince’s life.

Unknown to you, Zuko’s right arm cautiously reaches out to take hold to the back of your robes. So close his fingertips graze the fabric, but not close enough. The two nearest guards rushed to grab you while everyone in the crowd stared at your figure on the duelling ground.

With one guard on either side of you, they grabbed your arms and shoved you off the platform. Hissing, and failing to shove down a pathetic sob ripping through your half-burnt throat, you fall onto your hands and knees. A moment later, the guards were back at your side, dragging you through the door you couldn’t bring yourself to walk through minutes earlier.

Freedom feels like a distant, pathetic dream.

You try to take in the palace around you as they drag you to the right. Connecting where you are to the map, you saw last night, becomes increasingly difficult as the prolonged burning sensation on your skin begins to fog your mind. It’s no use keeping your eyes open. The dark colours of the palace give you a headache. You want to pass out. Give up completely. But Zemin didn’t lock you up in a pitch-black, underground labyrinth, for three months when you were eight to learn nothing. Instincts kicking in, you allow your eyes to close and begin to count your movements, listening to your surroundings.

20 steps forward.

Turn left.

15 steps.

Turn right.

You notice the guard to your left has a weaker hold on you than your right. Possibly about of disgust for holding your arm, or maybe to cause less pain. You assume the former.

18 steps.

The guards come to a stop.

You feel the guard to your left, slightly turning her body towards you. “Hey, maybe we should stop for a bit. I think the kid passed out.”

Ah, so maybe the latter as well then.

The guard to the right scoffs at her suggestion. “Don’t worry about it. She’s not completely out yet, she managed to keep moving. Probably just weak from the pain. Stupid kid. We’ve got a long way to go, and the Fire Lord will want her towards the top of the prison.”

Still unconvinced the female guard persists, “Shouldn’t we be taking her to the infirmary? These are really severe burns.”

There’s a pause. Only for a few moments, but enough for them to weigh up their options. “We should, but the Fire Lord would end us if we did that. We’ll just send a healer to the cell after we get her there.”

The guard shakes you, forcing you to open your eyes. Guiding you out of the palace, you squint your eyes as the sun blinds you, eventually able to make out a tall tower-like building before you. Entering the darkness that lies inside it, you struggle to keep up with their pace as they wind their way further and further up the spiral. Making it to a cell, the guard to the right drops you instantly making you crumble to the floor, eliciting a subtle dig to your hip. You’d forgotten all about the dagger strapped around your waist under your robes—the one you used to kill the general.

While the guard is holding your injured arm tugs you back up, you decide to act while one of them is preoccupied. Balancing on your right leg, you swing your left leg around, slamming into the back of their knees, making them fall. You quickly take out the dagger from underneath your robes, flipping it in your hand and using the blunt of the handle to knock her out in the head. The thud to the guards’ head alerts the other ahead of you. By the time they’ve processed what happened, you ran to them, kicking them in the stomach propelling them into the cell they recently managed to open. Running towards them you drop to both of your knees, arching your back as you slide under streams of fire passing above you. Rookie move on their part. Bringing your torso back up, you send a punch to their face knocking them out cold.

You grab the other guard and drag them into the cell as well and swap your robes for their uniform. It’s too large for your adolescent figure, but its good enough. Taking the keys, you lock them both in there, closing the main door on your way out in hopes no one will notice them in there instead of you.

Breath, you still have a long way to go.

With determined strides, you make your way past other guards in the prison, praying to the spirits that for once they’ll be on your side. Following the steps you memorised in your head from earlier, you end up back at the point where they led you from the arena. From this point, you decide to go in the opposite direction to which they took you. To the left.

Stay calm y/n, you’re going to make it.

You find a door leading out of the castle, and you can see the palace gates in the distance.

Holy Spirits! So… I would have made it out in time if I left the Agni Kai… That doesn’t matter anymore, you’re going to make it out now.

Walking out into the open, you force yourself to suppress a scream of pure joy. Time began to slow down as you saw the gates coming closer and closer. So close you started wondering where you’d go once you made it through.

Those thoughts were abandoned when you hear screaming from behind you.

“Close the gates! That guard is the traitor! Don’t let her out, and close the gates!”

No. No, not again. No, no, no! Fuck!

Breaking out in a sprint, you push yourself harder and further than any training exercise Zemin put you through. You let out a painful scream as if it would make you run faster than the guards at the gates, slowly pushing them shut. Nothing could compare to how much you wanted this slice of freedom. After just a few hours of being in the miserable palace, you were convinced you’d rather walk and swim to the Northern Water Tribe without any food or water, than have to spend another moment here. Mind going into overdrive, you don’t seem to hear or even register the fact that there is a group of around twenty guards behind you, ready to take you down.

With an echoing clang, they seal the gates shut. You falter, slowing down as waves of desperation and hopelessness consume you, yet unable to bring yourself to stop completely.

No, please.

One guard managed to catch up to you in your moments of weakness, throwing a strong punch to your head before you have time to react.

WEEK ONE

It had been a week since you were caught (again) and imprisoned in the Fire Nation jail cell and quite frankly, you were bored. After your stunt when you were first brought here, they ensured that you would never have access to any sharp objects, serving food in wooden bowls with only your hands to eat. Bold of them to assume you didn’t know 21 ways to use the bowl if you truly desired to kill them. No one spoke to you, not even the healer who came in wordlessly the first night to treat your burns. You lay on your right side, staring up at the ceiling admiring the small light that came through the poor excuse of a window.

I wonder if Zemin was worried when I never came back. Would he be worried? No that’s a stupid question, of course not. If anything, he’d be annoyed that I damaged his reputation by getting caught… I still hope he got those gold pieces though, at least then I can slowly waste away in here knowing I don’t owe him any more money. Maybe he could finally fulfil his dream and go to Ba Sing Se. He used to always guilt me into learning a new form of fighting, groaning on about how he gave up the money he had to move there and start a new life with the woman he loved, to raise me. Idiot. He never had an obligation to raise me in the first place, I’m probably from nowhere, and my parents were probably mediocre people in the grand scheme of things. Who even were my-

Cutting off your train of thought, one of the guards walked up to the cell and unlocked it, another quickly grabbing your wrists, and latching them in chains. “The Fire Lord has ordered to speak with you.”

You crack a smirk, “Oh goodie, I think I’m ready for a rematch!”

“Shut it kid, you’re lucky he ordered that you can’t be disposed of… yet.”

Am I lucky? Being burnt alive and having access to a non- waterbending healer and a bowl of old rice is lucky? Oh great Spirits, thank you for gracing my life with these blessings from the great Fire Nation.

What. A. Load. Of. Shit.

Leading you to the palace, you make it into the throne room. At this point, you wanted to laugh at their efforts to scare you.

Really? Dark Lighting and a fire wall right in front of the throne you sit high and mighty? If only I were an Airbender, then I could huff and puff until you fall into the flames.

A guard standing near the Fire Lord is the first to speak. “Bow before your Fire Lord!”

Spitting on the ground, you look at Ozai in the eye. “I will never bow before you!”

He laughs.

“I know you are the one who killed one of my generals before the duel after acquiring your blade. It’s quite interesting how you managed to get to him without any bending, I must find and congratulate whoever your trainer was. Lucky for you though, the general was of no value to me and easy to replace. I will also show you mercy for what you did at the Agni Kai, only because it was my disgrace of a son you protected, and just like that general, not anyone truly valuable to the nation. Regardless of your crimes, you have already proven yourself a very great asset for a mere child. For that, I will grant you the ultimate freedom, free of any ties you have with the low lives outside of the Capital. Instead, you can directly serve your Fire Lord as my personal assassin. I will have the best swordsmen train you. Taking your abilities to new heights, you wouldn’t even begin to imagine for yourself. I will make you unstoppable. For a non-bender, that is.”

Based on the confident yet bored tone of his voice, you could easily assume he didn’t care. Yet his golden eyes narrow down towards your figure. Waiting. Testing to see if you dare defy his wishes. The offer is objectively easy. Technically, all he is asking of you is to do the same thing you’ve been raised to do, just under his allegiance.

Zuko flashes in your mind. Tears streaming down his face, and begging his father for mercy. “I will never kill for you! I would rather relive the burns you gave me every day than stand by your side!”

He sighs. “If that is what you wish. Maybe over time, you will learn what a great honour it is to be offered such an opportunity, let us meet again next week.”

The guards, as if they were expecting this, shoved you to your knees, ripped off the top you were wearing, and the bindings across your chest. Frozen as the warm air from the flames around you hit your chest, you were mortified. Knowing other guards present were intently watching you be humiliated in front of the Fire Lord, you forced yourself to control the urge to vomit the contents of your prison food on the floor. Quickly bringing your arms and hands to your chest, you winced at the sudden movement from your left arm.

Without any time to mentally prepare, both guards ignited streams of fire to your back. Instinctively you hunch over, attempting and failing to avoid the flames. Unbeknownst to you, everyone in the palace all the way to the kitchens, froze as your haunting screams echoed throughout its halls.

Through your tears and screams, you faintly heard the Fire Lord speak. “You will learn to agree, and you will comply.”

THREE MONTHS

Despite crying every time it happened, you became accustomed to the burnings every week you refused Ozai’s offer. You began to lose any emotional feeling when it happened, robotically going through each step.

They bring you to the throne room.

You say no.

You take off your shirt and bindings for yourself.

The guards burn you.

You cry.

Ozai watches you as if he had better things to do with his time.

Although today, hours after the ritual, you received your first guest that wasn’t a guard or a healer. You knew who they were after sensing them as they hid behind a pillar in the throne room every week. Sensing them through the body heat within them, a gift you always had since you were little. Theirs was crackled with so much anger and hatred; it was so unique to everyone in the palace, you barely had to think about it.

“What do I owe the pleasure of the one and only Fire Nation Princess being in my worthless presence?”

“Shut it scum!”

You let out a small laugh. “Ooo scum? That’s a lovely nickname, but honestly, a little bland, don’t you think? You ARE the Fire Nation princess after all, why not add a little spice to it?”

She didn’t seem to like that. “ENOUGH! You want spice?!” Shooting a streamline of fire from her fingertips, she shot at your head. Luckily enough, you weren’t in front of Ozai or defending her brother, so you swiftly dodged her shot.

Not giving her the satisfaction of retaliation, you sat in the middle of the cell, closing your eyes and crossing your legs. You began to meditate, trying to block out the irritating sense of fire within her.

She walked up to the bars, staring down on you. “I hope you know that my dear brother Zuzu won’t be coming back any time soon.”

This was the first time you’d heard about the Prince since the Agni Kai. She paused, waiting to see if she got a reaction out of you, but you were a trained assassin for Spirit’s sake, you had more control than that. Letting out a deep breath of air, you knew all you needed to do was stay calm.

“You do know what happened to him after you failed to protect him, don’t you? Oh! That’s right if I do recall correctly, you were so paralysed with what you had done, you didn’t even spare him a glance!” She let out a laugh as you remained still.

“Awww, yes! Poor Zuzu doesn’t even know what his ‘saviour’ looks like and he never will! You want to know why, scum?”

Not really but I guess I don’t have much of a choice.

“Because he will NEVER come back. He will NEVER step foot into the Fire Nation again because he was banished to capture the Avatar! It’s a bit ironic, don’t you think? All your pathetic little life, you have been KILLING to get out of here, gain your freedom, and you’re never going to get it. You’ll die in this cell. Yet, on the other hand, Zuzu wants nothing more than to come right home and stand by father’s side! That really does top it all off, doesn’t it, scum? You have trapped yourself here, to save someone who only just wants to come crawling right back. And if he ever did by some miracle, capture the Avatar? He would look you in the eyes and burn you himself for being such a traitor to this Nation.”

You tensed for a second, keeping your eyes closed you quickly regained composure. “Okay Azula, you’ve had your fun. That’s enough.”

She smirked with a sinister glint in her eyes. “You embarrassed him that day. You took away the little bit of dignity he could have had if you just let him get all his scars… Or at least let him die getting them.”

Enough.

“You will forever be a reminder of what should have been his. You’re going to die here for nothing.”

Enough.

“You thought you could do some good in this world? You were wrong! Your one poor excuse for saving someone’s life will always mean nothing! Zuko doesn’t care if you saved his life! He hates you! He hates you for taking away his dignity! You will die with him hating you! Your hope for doing good in this world means nothing because he is searching to take away the one thing that would end this war, even though they’re already dead!”

“THAT’S ENOUGH, AZULA!” Opening your eyes, they snapped from your usual e/c to a blinding golden light. The fire you trained for so long to control reached its tipping point and exploded from every pore in your body setting fire to anything in its wake. Azula rushed away from the bars of your cell as it melted around you. Feeling your hair raise in a halo of fire, you raised your right arm as a blast fired right next to her head. A warning shot.

The guards outside of the cell who have been watching you since you were imprisoned, stared in shock. Not once had you shown any indication of being a fire bender.

Generally, in this state, you were unstoppable. A force even Zemin didn’t 100% know how to train, leaving you to your own devices. However, these weren’t normal circumstances. You have been tortured weekly, barely given any food or water and countless wounds that aren’t even close to being healed. After the sudden use of intense energy, you felt yourself passing out, allowing the guards to grab you quickly.

***

Groaning as if no time had passed, you found yourself chained up on a boat. “Am I going to be executed?” You weren’t sure if you were worried or hopeful at the possibility.

The female guard you knocked out on your first day in the palace sat next to you, letting out a sigh. “No, but you might as well be in your condition. You’re going to Boiling Rock, into The Cooler.”

SEVEN MONTHS

The guards came by the Cooler to deliver your food. They usually throw it to the ground and leave, but it seems today they received news that was too good to pass up the opportunity to torment you.

“Did you hear that kid? They tracked down your poor excuse of a trainer and killed him. Figured if the best he could produce was you, he wasn’t even worth sending to Boiling Rock.”

You remained curled up in the corner, unmoving as they laughed their way down the hallway. As their laughs slowly died down, you realised how pathetic you let yourself become.

Why did people have to keep dying because of you? You wanted to scream. Burn this stupid icebox down with your hands. Set the whole place to flames. But you were tired. So, so tired. You didn’t even have the energy anymore to cry when they burned you every week. Regularly being exposed to entirely polar elements began to fuck with your body. It didn’t know how to function anymore. Physically and mentally.

Despite being four months since your encounter with Azula, her words continued to spin in your mind every day. What seemed to break you the most was that you knew even if she were right, you’d do it again. If you could go back, you knew you would jump in front of him every time if it meant he was alive. Knowing he was far away from this hell hole brought you a weird sense of peace, regardless of if he was searching for the Avatar or not.

Unlike him, you weren’t far away from this wretched place. You were helpless.

Grabbing the old and cold bowl of rice, you finished your meal for the first time in three weeks.

EIGHT MONTHS

The guards walked in to take you to the palace for your weekly offer, and for the first time, you were already standing. After placing the chains to your wrists, they took you out of your cell just like they did every week. While travelling back to the Capital, you continuously persuaded yourself, this was the only way. You knew, deep down, this was the right choice. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

Entering the throne room, you make your way up to Ozai. Holding eye contact as the flames burn between you.

Bowing before him in the most traditional Fire Nation bow you can muster. You bring yourself back upright, stance and face stoic, contrasting the satisfied smirk on his face. For the first time, he doesn’t bother to make his offer.

“I am at your full service, and ready to comply my Fire Lord.”

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading this or coming from my old blog!! please follow this one and stick around, I am currently working on the third chapter and a lil sokka oneshot :)) and to my taglist, i love you all, thank you all so much, i’m so sorry that you all have to deal with me rn and im so so sorry <3

TAGLIST:

@slythergirlimagines @mangoberry43 @eridanuswave @whiskeywinter89 @callums-keith @kaylove12 @simplyfandomish @khaleesi-of-assassins

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twilitty · 4 years ago

Text

Moonlit ch.2

This is the second chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3.9k words

previous chapter

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella Swan is introduced to a possible new friend and receives a gift. The doctors new family may not be as well adjusted to small town life as Charlie would like.

Chapter Two

The next morning I wake up to a growl of thunder beating against the inside of my skull. I had a night of thankfully restful sleep for once, only waking up to get a glass of water. My hands are clasped against my chest, fingers knotted in annoyance as I hold back what likely will be a spill of expletives. Why must there always be noise? Why can I not sleep soundly and awake soundly, just once?

I open one eye experimentally, hoping the sun has already arisen and I won’t be missing out on any leftover sleep. My room is shrouded in darkness. The expletives, swear words crude enough to make a priest gag, spill out in a muttered breath and my hands squeeze against each other once more before reaching for my alarm clock. The red numbers blink back at me and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light before I read the time. Nine in the morning. I look back to the window where my blinds are drawn closed, but still no light, even filtered through the canopy of clouds, peaks at the edges.

The thunder, which had gone quiet after waking me up initially, rolls again for a moment before silencing itself. Only, was it thunder? It sounded heavy, like machinery but with a deeper growl. Was there construction nearby? I didn’t recall any on my few trips up and down the street, and I question why there would need to be any construction anyways. It’s not as if this is a booming neighbourhood with a subdivision being built.

Charlie knocks against my door, quieter than yesterday. “Bella, it’s time to get up.” You’d imagine that with my age being nearly twenty and my status as a legal adult I’d be allowed to choose my own time to wake up. My annoyance dies down quickly when my thoughts bounce back to Phoenix, waking up early each morning to drive Mom into her early morning classes. Nine in the morning really isn’t that early, in fact, it allows me time to get some chores done before class. “Someone has dropped by.”

My lips contort into an annoyed pucker. Who would have stopped by? Mom had warned me before the move that nothing but rumours and nasty mold comes from Forks. Apparently her quick marriage to Charlie, and even quicker pregnancy with me, was enough gossip to fuel conversations for years. I remember a trip to Forks at eight years old, a woman had stopped my mother in the grocery store and asked her over for coffee. “They just want the inside scoop,” Renee had told me afterwards, “Give them anything and they’ll find a way to make it ugly.”

My bare feet brush the ground and a flash of cold spreads up my shins. Apparently, even in spring, the weather is dangerously cold. I tell Charlie I’ll be downstairs in a moment, pulling on a pair of jeans and thermal socks. I was hoping for a relaxing day alone, just me, my sweatpants, and the laptop. I compromise on the socks, regardless of who is downstairs, my toes will not be cold today.

I pull the blinds open, the lawn stretching out beside the house is bathed in shadowy darkness despite the morning hour. The forest that lines our property, secluding us from the neighbours, is eerie and mysterious. The green tones that I initially found alien and too bright are now gone and replaced with navy. I wait a moment, staring into the trees, my thoughts rambling into fairytale imaginations.

My brain conjures an image of a man, tall and insidious, stepping out of the tree line, long claws attached to his fingers and a nasty grin revealing pointed teeth. His shirt is ripped in the front, a long tear reaching from throat to navel and from inside the shirt tufts of hair stick out. No, not hair, fur. He growls menacingly.

I close the blinds quickly and blink against the pictures my brain throws at me.

The landline rings downstairs and startles me, a jolt of anxious adrenaline surging through my cold feet and up into my heart. Maybe one of the reasons I enjoyed Phoenix’s barren, plain landscape was that I would not be subjected to such terrible thoughts. I remember being twelve and watching Scream with my mother, she was on a horror movie kick and had rented a whole stack of DVDs for us to watch. That night when I was tired but my eyes refused to close as I didn’t want to imagine what could be lurking outside my bedroom window. Crawling into my mother’s bed, she ran her warm palm against my forehead and hummed a song until I calmed down.

“Bella,” she had said quietly, the nurturing lilt of her voice expanding my heart, “We live in a desert. You can see for miles and miles and miles, if some bad man was coming we’d see him from forty minutes away.” I giggled quietly into the comforter, our bodies pressed against each other in near sleep and my mother’s hands maneuvering through my hair with expertise.

Now, I look out at the grassy lawn from a crack between the blinds. It resembles the set of a slasher movie, the forest borders it with every possibility my imagination can muster. I can see a man from four seconds away, not forty minutes.

There's a chorus of male laughter from below and I sigh, assuming this is my cue to go downstairs and meet with whoever has stopped in.

Charlie is sitting in the living room, facing me and his back to the television which is decidedly blank. On the couch is a head of glossy, black hair. Beside him is a wheelchair with an older man sitting in it, a mug clasped between dark hands. I curse whatever forces brought these strangers into the house so early, I am not in the mood for interaction. I was hoping for a bowl of oatmeal and a quiet morning.

“Hey!” Charlie braces his hands on his knees and pushes out of the armchair. His face is split in half with a grin. I can’t recall him smiling this large in the past week of my stay. The two men turn, facing me with warm smiles.

One of them is older, perhaps Charlie's age, his mouth creased with smile lines and his eyes wrinkled with sun damage. His skin is a warm russet brown, his eyes deep-set behind pronounced brows and a large smile. Bright white teeth stare back at me as my brain picks over his features, how do I know this man? I know almost immediately that he’s Quileute, from the Reservation to the west of town. I vaguely remember trips to the beach with Charlie and eating hotdogs over fires with some of the children from the area.

“Do you remember me, Bella?” He asks in a deep, commanding tone. His voice transports me back to the beach, collecting colourful rocks with the other kids and being called to dinner. Billy Black. He lives in a small, red house with a large kitchen perfect for gatherings. He’s older than I remember, but my last time being here for any substantial time was nearly four years ago.

“Dad, c’mon,” the boy says with a sarcastic eye roll. He stands from the couch, his height towering mine by a few inches and his broad shoulders slumped forward happily. I wonder how tall he’d be if he stood to his full height. His voice is deep, not as deep as his father’s, but still an indicator of the family resemblance. Where his father is strong and sure, this boy is aloof and casual. Jacob Black. “She hasn’t been back in ages, she probably blocked your nasty attitude out of her memory.”

I bite back a smile, but Billy laughs and shoots Charlie a look that says, kids, am I right? I step forward and extend my hand to Jacob, who takes it gratefully in his own and gives a soft shake. His hand covers mine and is most definitely a few degrees warmer than I am. “Jacob Black, we used to make mud pies together.”

“Best in town,” Charlie adds in from the back of the room. I smile.

“No, no, I remember you guys,” I tell the Blacks. “It just took me a moment.” Charlies sits back down in his chair and motions for me to take a seat.

“Billy and Jake just stopped by,” my father explains. I sit beside Jacob on the couch, a cushion between us. But, even with the provided space and the lack of physical contact, I feel heat come off of him in waves like a radiator. I wonder if he’s sick. “Jake here is a mechanic.” A furious blush settles under the boy's brown skin as his mechanical skills are brought up, this is my first time hearing of his expertise. I remember his sisters being twins, both tall and beautiful with matching smiles. They were almost two years older than me, Jacob had followed closely behind and was only born in the same six months as me. Of course, now that I try to remember, the date falls short in my memory. It’s possible he has a career as a mechanic somewhere on the Reservation, but he mustn’t work in Forks. I hadn’t seen a single mechanics garage in town.

“No, no,” he looks between me and my father with an apologetic smile, “it’s just a hobby. Something for fun.” Billy tsks at his son, shaking his head in a way that makes me believe this conversation has occurred before.

“Hobbies can bring in money, hobbies can turn into jobs,” the older man says with a scolding tone. Jacob just shakes his head crookedly, not responding. Charlie takes this as his cue to interrupt the trajectory of the conversation, and I’m grateful. I haven’t spoken to these men in nearly four years, that last place I want to be is in the middle of a family feud.

“Well, now, there was a reason I brought up Jake’s skills,” Charlie interjects with a wave at the large boy next to me. “Bells, go take a look outside.” My fingers twitch anxiously in my lap at being thrust into the center of the conversation. I was hoping I could slide under the radar here, not end up in the middle of it.

It takes great restraint for me to get up from the couch and not stumble over my ankles in the act, my clumsiness reaches new heights when I’m being watched by a room of people. Even if there are only three people in the room. The window at the end of the room is open, the curtains pulled to the side, and when I reach it my gaze falls on a group of kids biking down the street with a rainbow of helmets. Apparently, the dark sky doesn’t scare them the way it does me.

They pedal quickly, little screams of delight just barely audible through the thick glass of the living room window. They pass the porch and disappear behind a large red truck parked out front of the house. I blink. It’s still there, rounded fenders and shiny door handles, long bed, ancient grill adorning the hood. It’s beautiful. “Is that your truck, Billy?” There’s a chorus of laughter behind me, the men’s baritones mixing and producing a flaming blush starting at my neck and creeping up into my face. I turn to look at them, my stomach clenching as I turn away from the beautiful vehicle. “What?”

“It’s yours, Bella,” Charlie tells me. The breath I was holding leaves my lungs through my gaping mouth, I struggle to close it and take an experimental inhale. “Bella?” I turn and look back out the window, the glorious truck still sits there staring at me from across the dark lawn. I can only imagine how beautiful it is in the sunlight.

“I- it’s mine?” I ask. Another series of laughs echo through and then footsteps come up beside me, Jacob stands looking out the window. “You made it?” I question, looking up at him.

His shoulders shake silently and his lips press together as he tries to compose himself, I’m not sure why he finds my comment so funny but it reignites my blush. “I fixed it up, yeah. But, don’t get too excited. The thing runs at sixty miles max, push her further than that and you’ll be walking home.”

We all go outside quickly, me leading the pack with an excited skip in my step. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall on my face or stumble over my words as I spoke my thoughts aloud. “It’s so pretty, I love it! Jake, I have no idea how you could make it look so perfect.” The truck sits against the curb, its red paint flaking in places around the tires, but even more perfect than I could have imagined.

The sky is a disturbing shade of grey, a fact that irritates me more outside than it did in the house. Why does the weather have to ruin such a perfectly good moment? But I spend the majority of my time on the vehicle, petting its sides carefully like I might damage it. Finally, seemingly having had enough of me quietly admiring the vehicle, Billy tells me to hop in and check it out on the inside.

Jacob produces a set of keys, no automatic locking mechanism, and twists it in the truck's door handle. He holds the door open for me, producing a hand to help me in. I take it gratefully, stepping up into the driver’s seat and letting myself sink into the seat. Jacob closes the door on me, but my thoughts are lost and focused only on how much I love this truck.

“So,” he says after opening the passenger door and climbing up next to me, “You ever driven a truck before?” I shake my head, fingers curving experimentally around the thin steering wheel. I can see myself now: driving down the empty highway, the sun blinding against the dry pavement, window down and hair blowing, radio blaring. It’s exactly what I needed, a way for me to get around without needing to borrow the cruiser (which, yes, is illegal) or have Charlie drive me around.

“I can give you lessons,” Jake offers, fingers clasped in his lap, drumming a tune against the opposite knuckles. “If not that’s cool, but she drives a little funny.” “She?” I ask, eyes leaving the steering wheel momentarily to watch his face. He notices, the serene expression dropping from his face and replaced with a quick upturn of his lips.

“Uh, yeah.” He palms the back of his neck roughly and seems almost apologetic. “I have a thing for cars, y’know, so naming them is kinda part of the deal.” I can barely make out a faint red tinge over his cheeks. “Wait, hold on,” I can’t contain the giggle that slips out but firmly press my lips together before trying again. I can only imagine the toothy smile I’m giving him, a girl all too excited over some old truck. Only, this is the perfect old truck. “What’s her name?”

“Betty,” he responds sheepishly, his hand still massaging the back of his neck. “But if you tell anybody that I’ll have to kill you.”

“That’s okay, Betty is our secret.”

And, just like that, I now have a secret with someone. Does this make us friends? Regardless of whatever it makes us, my heart sings happily from within my chest, excited to think that maybe Forks won’t be as lonesome as it’s been this past week. Maybe Jacob and I will become friends and bond over Betty and I won’t only have Charlie and school and books.

“Well, before you accept her turn the keys,” Jacob instructs. I oblige, setting the keys in the ignition and giving them a gentle twist. A roar of mechanical thunder envelopes us. I nearly leap out of my seat in surprise, the loud rumbling of the engine settling in my ears and blocking out all other noises. Jake says something but I can barely hear him from over the thunderous growl of Betty. I turn the keys back and the truck dies down with one last rumble. “She’s loud,” he says obviously.

“She’s perfect.”

Jacob hands me a spare set of keys after we get out, telling me that he’ll be back the day after tomorrow to give me my first driving lesson in the truck. Charlie was all too excited with that idea, even though I already have my license and know how to drive. In fact, other than illegally borrowing the cruiser with Charlie’s permission, I have never committed an illegal act involving a vehicle. If memory serves me correctly, Charlie has two speeding tickets from his youth.

But, I don’t argue against Jake's offer. In fact, I thank him profusely and promise to pay him for the lessons. “Bella,” he says in an exasperated way, as if we’ve known each other for years and I always say such supposedly outlandish things. “Why would you pay me for something I’m offering to you?”

We’ve stopped in front of the Blacks vehicle, a large brown and beige truck which seems to only be a decade newer than the red one. This isn’t saying much for the brown vehicle as the red one could be from the fifties. Billy is wheeling his way down the driveway with Charlie walking beside him, laughing emphatically at something his friend had said.

“That’s crazy,” I respond with a shake of my head. “That’s like me not paying you for the truck.”

“Yeah, I know.” I take pause at this, the words welling up inside my brain and the meaning lost to me for only a moment. Then, like finally finding the missing puzzle piece under the table, I understand what this means and the picture is clear.

“You- I- This truck isn’t free.” The words stutter out of me, the first two the beginnings of messages I abandoned immediately after starting them. This truck, though old, is not cheap, and neither is Jakes’s skill. I should pay him for labour if nothing else, but I know he doesn’t want to include that in the bill. He doesn't want to send me a bill.

“It’s a gift,” he states simply with a shrug of his wide shoulders. Billy pulls up beside me, slapping away Charlie's hand as he tries to adjust his chair for him.

“Careful, Swan,” the older Black warns with hostility. “I have more muscle in these arms than you do in your entire body. Touch the chair and you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Jacob helps Billy into the passenger seat, folding up the wheelchair and securing it into the truck bed with quick hands. Charlie stands beside me, shooting fiery threats back and forth with his friend until Jacob climbs behind the wheel. “Storm coming through,” Jacob says with a wave towards the dark sky. “If you need any help with anything, tying stuff down or moving let me know.” Charlie thanks him for the offer and I lean in to thank him again for the truck and the lessons. I also assure him that the argument over billing is far from over and that he’ll get an earful the next time we meet.

The rest of the day is spent restlessly. I log into my online classes but my attention is continuously claimed by my truck in front of the house. The sun never shows itself, content with hiding behind the cloud coverage. I’m sitting in the living room when Charlie gets home for dinner, my book discarded on the couch somewhere beside me. I reach for it once I see his cruiser pull into the driveway, deciding it would be better to look busy than to look like I’m obsessing over my new means of transportation.

“Bella?” He calls, the door shutting behind him with a creak. At some point I’ll have to oil all the hinges in the house. It’s that or I go clinically insane from the constant noise.

“Yeah, just in here.”

He comes in bearing a brown bag with the Forks Diner logo written on the side. “I brought dinner, it’ll be on the stove.” I nod and thank him, telling him that we can eat together once he’s down and out of uniform. “Well, actually, I won’t be eating until a bit later.” His moustache twitches irritably and he disappears into the kitchen to drop the food off.

“Are you meeting with Billy?” I ask, knowing this isn’t the case. It must be an issue with work causing him to feel stressed. And when he comes back into the living room from the kitchen I’m able to see the tension holding his shoulders in place. “Did something happen at work?” “It’s nothing to worry about,” he assures me, but his words do anything but. So much for police chief being a boring job. “Just those new kids in town, the doctors children,” he waves a hand in the air as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Kicking up trouble in their first week here, something about racing.”

“Oh.” I pull my knees under me and turn to face him fully, my arms hanging over the back of the couch like a child.

“Anyways, no big deal I’m sure they’re just used to city life or something.” But, my fathers tone indicates that he most definitely does not believe his own words. In Charlie's books a bad apple is always a bad apple, and he’s probably dreading all the other trouble these kids will kick up. “I’ve just gotta go check-in with them, make sure it doesn’t happen again.” His hand moves towards my arm, as if to pat me goodbye but it stutters midair, falling back to his side awkwardly.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, biting on it as he mutters a goodbye and leaves through the front door without looking at me again. I wonder when this will get any easier.

Renee left Charlie a year into their young marriage, taking me away to live with her in Arizona. She had given me partial reasons over the years for her leaving, talking of them being too young, the weather too wet, how she wanted a life where she could be free from responsibilities. I’m not sure whether it dawned on her that a child constitutes a responsibility, but she took me to every yoga class and rarely left me with a babysitter.

My mother was never too keen on Forks, not that I fault her for it, the weather leaves much to be desired and there’s virtually nothing to do. But, because of her disliking I rarely visited my father, my first extended visit being when I was twelve and stayed the entire summer as Renee travelled with her then-boyfriend. I came back to a scrapbook of kissy photos and pressed leaves from her travels, all I had to show for my trip was a runny nose and a strong distaste for hamburgers. One can only eat so many burgers before the novelty wears off.

taglist: @musingsofvenus @maybesandohnos

#twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #jasper #the twilight saga #carlisle #twilight saga #smeyer #2008 #twilight renaissance #fanfic #jacob/Bella #Bella/Jacob #Jacob x Bella #Bella x Jacob #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #mine

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 4 years ago

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One Thought, Only Video Game. (That still hasn’t announced its early release date plox I just wanna play please :cry:)

I guess while I’m sulking I can continue the reread or something.

[No. 15 - Vs.]

So we’re back at the yacht with the crew, the boat still being surrounded by villains who have yet to approach. Mineta is freaking out about Izuku’s plan from last chapter to fight the villains in the water, saying that Izuku’s contradicting himself after implying that the villains are strong enough to kill All Might. He then suggests their only hope is to hide until heroes show up to rescue them.

Honestly, I’ve seen a lot of Mineta hate in the fandom, and did participate in it more earlier on. But the more time I actually take a look at his character, the more I realize that he’s actually got some great potential as the straight man / reality ensues to the rest of the cast who play to their shounen setting more faithfully. If you just cut out most of the perversion and worked in more scenes of him commenting on the shounen setting in a semi-meta function (like not outright referencing comics or anything, just the ‘this is crazy!’ from a IRL view on shounen shenanigans), he could have been a lot of fun, maybe even played off of Aoyama or sommat.

Alas, that is not what we got. But maybe, in the course of this reread, I can pick apart the stuff about Mineta that could make the base for a good character, and maybe I can eventually use those pieces to make a new Mineta, a likeable Mineta. That’d be a crowning point in my career to be sure.

But yeah, like, Mineta kind of has a point here from a non-shounen POV - 'If these guys are strong enough to fight the top hero and possibly kill them, then maybe we shouldn't try fighting them ourselves when we're newbies and just try and keep away until actual trained heroes show up.' Like, their specific situation makes it impossible even without envoking shounen stuff, but, strictly speaking, he’s not wrong here.

Anyways, Izuku sort of completely glosses over Mineta’s panic, instead turning his attention to the villains and remarking that all of said villains are suited to aquatic combat. Mineta complains about Izuku ignoring him, but Tsuyu catches on to Izuku’s point - the ringleaders must have recruited their team knowing about the USJ’s different environments. Izuku determines that their intel had told them that much, but with how careful all their planning had been, one odd point sticks out - they warped Tsuyu into the flood zone.

There’s a moment of silence between the three before Tsuyu tells Izuku to take his time, and Mineta just demands Izuku’s point. Izuku exhales and apologizes, then clarifies his point - the villains must not know about the class’ quirks! Tsuyu has a moment of surprise as the manga briefly flashes back to Tsuyu’s comment in the classroom about being at home in a flood. Tsuyu concedes his point - if they’d known about her frog powers, they’d have dumped her into the fire zone.

Izuku determines that because the villains didn’t know about their quirks, the strategy to handling them became ‘scatter and overwhelm them with numbers.’ Mineta’s shown sweating in fear as Izuku continues - the villains have the three beat in numbers and experience, so there’s only one way to win - exploit the lack of knowledge about their quirks. He then points out how the villains not trying to get on board supports his theory, while then thinking to himself how that also means that the villains aren’t underestimating them.

Now we get some fun quirk talk! And Mineta being Mineta. Sigh.

Tsuyu’s quirk is pretty versatile! She can jump high, stick to walls, stretch her tongue up to twenty meters (and wield it like a prehensile limb, as we’ve seen already). She can also ‘spit up her stomach to clean it’, which was something debated in the NWA server for a bit before we determined that it meant that she can just throw up on command, not that she actually expels her stomach like a starfish or sommat. Finally, she can secrete a poisonous fluid, though ‘poison’ is a stretch when it really just stings a little.

Mineta gets hung up on the ‘secrete’ part (why), while Tsuyu notes the last two aren’t that useful, so just forget about them. Izuku notes that she’s strong and that he underestimated her. Izuku then explains a bit about his own quirk - mostly just ‘super strength but after I use it it messes me up, basically a double edged sword.’ Which, simple, but to the point.

Mineta silently pulls off one of his hair orb thingies and sticks it to the wall of the yacht, then explains that the balls are really sticky, and that if he’s feeling good, it’ll last all day. New ones grow in where the old ones were on his head, but if he pulls too many, he starts bleeding. They bounce off of his own body without sticking to him.

(I will give him credit here, the wording for his explanation for his quirk is not skeevy as it’s made out to be in the dub. For all we know from this, it could just mean ‘in good health’ or ‘in a generally positive headspace / mood,’ not… other stuff.)

Anyways, after four panels of silence, Mineta freaks out and repeats his statement that they have to wait to be rescued, and that his quirk is terrible for fighting multiple opponents. Izuku tries to calm him down, saying that it’s a great quirk, they just have to think of how to make use of it.

The yacht gets attacked by one of the villains, water slamming up the middle and basically ripping a massive hole through the middle. The villain states he’s getting bored and ‘let’s finish this thing’, his arms reforming / part of the water. Tsuyu notes the villain is strong, and managed to split the boat in two, all while the three of them try to hold on to each other and keep from sliding down the now angled deck they’re on.

Mineta, in tears, does a but of a battle cry and starts tossing his quirk balls into the water below, all three students and all the villains watching on silently as said balls sploosh in. Mineta freaks out some more as he turns to Izuku and points out how nothing seemed to be accomplished, while Izuku is stressed that Mineta’s panic gave away his quirk to the enemy. Izuku then realizes that no, the villains are on guard now, trying to splash the balls away without touching them. A plan sparks in Izuku’s mind. Down below, that shark villain notes that the kids only have a minute before the boat sinks and they’re all chum.

Again, Mineta proving to be a surprisingly apt straight man to the other two. Why aren’t those two scared? They were just middle school kids not all that long ago, why are they in a life or death situation so soon? (And then he ruins it with being a pervert. Sigh.)

At the same time, Tsuyu kind of has a point as well. They all came to UA to be heroes, and the fact that they signed up for it and got in by fighting robots kind of weights those who get in more towards the side of people who are likely to see trouble and jump in rather than those who run away. So Mineta being entirely cowardly and wanting to run and hide sort of… belies his purpose being in the hero course at all.

And then of course the second half of this page, just as good as the first:

Another moment of Pro Hero Deku, Symbol of Hope shining through early Izuku’s nerves and doubts. You can see the moment Mineta realizes Izuku is just as scared as he is, but is acting in spite of it. Which will in short order inspire Mineta for his part of the plan to make their escape.

Another small thing that I really find interesting from this is the choice of quote Izuku pulls from All Might’s documentary - ‘The moment when the enemy thinks they’ve won represents your best chance.’ This is something that actually comes up several times going forward in the manga - most notably, All Might’s fight with AFO at Kamino, wherein he fakes having nothing left in order to make AFO’s guard drop, then uses all his strength to take AFO out in one shot.

I think, though, that this interview came before All Might’s first fight with AFO, since I doubt he had much time or interest in them after his injury. And in turn, I think this might be a small hint to All Might’s first fight with AFO, even if not intentional - I wouldn’t be surprised if AFO thought All Might was defeated after that blow to his stomach, but All Might managed to surprise him and take him out while he was overconfident in his victory.

Am I reading too much into random little things again? Probably! But it’s fun.

We get a little bit of a view from the villain’s side of things, with one villain commenting on the ‘little one’ whining and how the kids ar a bunch of babies. The villain who took out the boat, who seems to be the leader of their group, I guess? Says Shigaraki said not to get careless - it’s not their age that matters, but their quirks… and clearly the villain’s quirks have the advantage in the water.

And then we get Izuku enacting the plan. What’s the plan, you ask?

Do what Kacchan would do, of course.

One of the villains scoffs and determines Izuku’s just a dumb kid, and that as soon as he lands, they’ll gut him. Izuku, meanwhile, is thinking about how no matter how big a smash he pulls, the villains have them surrounded, so he can’t hit them all. He also determines that even if they make it out of the flood zone, there’s more villains to worry about, so he can’t afford to sacrifice a whole arm. As he starts falling towards the water, he has his fingers prepped with power and ready to flick, frantically muttering to himself to keep the egg from exploding.

Back on the deck of the ship, Tsuyu is poised to leap, Mineta tucked under her arm. Mineta is internally stressed over how he saw Izuku shaking, he knows Izuku’s as scared as he is, so how??? Meanwhile, Izuku calls out his attack - a Delaware Smash - and, well.

RIP to that glove. And the Flood Zone. And his finger.

The villains are all blasted away with the water, while Izuku swears over his busted finger before calling out to Tsuyu and Mineta. Tsuyu leaps from the deck, grabbing Izuku around the waist with her tongue as she soars past. We get a rather graphic up close shot of Izuku’s finger, bloodied and bent backwards from where it should be. Very graphic, what the fuck.

Mineta’s reaction to the sight is shock, followed by him shouting again and throwing a ton of his quirk balls into the water, all while thinking about how Izuku is always doing the coolest things. Mineta just keeps tossing them in among the villains as he notes that that’s all he can do in comparison.

The water starts to get sucked back into the middle by gravity and the vacuum from the blast, dragging the villains and the quirk balls, with the latter sticking to the former, and in turn sticking the villains to each other. The villains freak out that the balls are sticking to them and can’t be removed, and then in being stuck together in one massive blob.

As the villains are all sucked into the middle, Izuku explains that by delivering a strong shock to the water’s surface, it spread,s and once it rushes back into the center…

Tsuyu’s one-liner count: like ten at this point, IDK I haven’t been counting. She’s just taking every chance she gets and running with it.

And I love Tsuyu’s little ‘good job’ to the other two for their parts in the plan. What a great little moment to end the chapter on. See y’all next time on ‘Shigaraki continues to traumatize school kids.’

#chapter 15 #usj arc #readthrough #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mineta minoru #asui tsuyu #midoriya izuku #some really good early nods to the balance between fear and bravery #and how they're two sides of the same coin in the end #and mineta is almost actually cool in this #besides his like two or three annoying moments #sigh

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daemour · 4 years ago

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You’re Still My Universe pt. 1

Title: You’re Still My Universe

Pairing: Jinyoung x ???? to be determined GOT7 Member

Genre: Fluff, hint of angst, parent au

Warnings: Sexual jokes

Word count: 1849 lol

Summary: Jinyoung's life is devoted to his son. But the first time he's been separated, so many other people barge into his life and start taking up what little free time he has left.

Honestly this is me winging it so hahahaha i suffer every day

“Yugyeom, you can’t go out like that,” Jinyoung almost hisses at the young child but manages to hold onto his last shred of patience. “We wear pants outside of the apartment. Pants, Yugyeom. Pants.” With each word, Jinyoung emphasises more and more.

The little demon that Jinyoung called his son turns around with a big grin on his tiny face. “Pants are stupid!” God, how could he look so innocent and endearing at this moment? Jinyoung could rip his own hair out but Yugyeom was smiling at him with such a sweet grin.

“They are very stupid, but we must wear them, all right, Yugyeom?” To Jinyoung’s relief, Yugyeom finally skids to a stop on the floor, slipping a little because of his, quite frankly, adorable bunny socks that he received for his birthday. “Can you go put on pants for me? Then we can go to the park as I had promised.”

Yugyeom nods, still with a smile on his face, and runs off toward his room. Jinyoung practically collapses into the bookshelf. Why Yugyeom had so much energy, even more so as a four–year–old, confuses the hell out of him. But he loves his son.

The day he had gotten custody of the one–year–old whose mother (and Jinyoung’s ex) had died in a car crash, Jinyoung had fallen in love. The tiny child had looked up at him and asked where ‘mama’ was and Jinyoung swore that he would take care of this child to the best of his ability. Yugyeom managed to surprise him every day, and Jinyoung often surprised himself with how he dealt with Yugyeom being a child.

“Daddy!” And there is his little hell child again, tearing through the halls once again. Yugyeom runs straight into the side of the couch, and Jinyoung almost laughs at the sight. “Can we go now?” Yugyeom is practically undented, getting up just as quickly as he fell over and coming over to tug at his father’s hand.

Jinyoung just sighs, letting his son drag him over to the coat rack. It was hung way too low, but Yugyeom had insisted that he be able to reach it. He’s just whipped for his son, letting Yugyeom help him put on his scarf. “Ready to go, Gyeomie-ah?” Jinyoung smiles down at his son, who nods eagerly.

“I wanna go to park!” Jinyoung laughs out loud, eyes crinkling. Yugyeom has no time for his father’s adoration though, he has an agenda, and that agenda is to go to the park. Jinyoung opens the door, letting Yugyeom pull him out.

“Wait a little, Yugyeom, I’ll need to lock the door.” Yugyem huffs a little, but ever obedient, waits, tapping his foot impatiently. Looks like Yugyeom has picked up a couple of his father’s habits. Jinyoung finally finishes up, and Yugyeom almost immediately takes off like the hellspawn he is. Thankfully, Jinyoung was now used to his son’s abundant energy and takes Yugyeom’s small hand in his.

“Baby, you can’t run off like that, all right? I don’t want to lose you,” Jinyoung reprimands gently, and Yugyeom nods, though he was more focused on sucking on his bottom lip wetly to try to make a fart noise. Jinyoung sighs. He’ll just have to keep a closer eye on the kid.

The park is almost a block away, and Jinyoung has to refrain from scooping Yugyeom up on the sidewalk. He’s always been wary about letting Yugyeom near cars after what happened to his mother. What if dying in a car crash ran in DNA? He knows he’s being too cautious, but Jinyoung didn’t want to lose Yugyeom.

“Daddy, you have a stupid grin,” Yugyeom chirps from beside Jinyoung, sweaty hand still grabbing onto his father’s palm. Jinyoung thinks maybe he could throw Yugyeom to the wolves instead.

“Don’t be mean, Yugyeomie-ah,” Jinyoung half-heartedly scolds the child. He’s too soft on him, honestly. It’s shown when Yugyeom pays no heed, instead just pressing his mouth to Jinyoung’ hand and licking it. Jinyoung can feel a little bit of his soul die.

Thankfully, they reach the park with no more licking or insults from Yugyeom, and Jinyoug lets Yugyeom’s hand go with only a little hesitation. Yugyeom, though, has no hesitation and immediately streaks toward the swing set. Jinyoung has no trouble keeping up thankfully, the swing set is straight ahead and Yugyeom isn’t doing any weaving between people.

The park is actually pretty empty, it being a weekday. Yugyeom didn’t start school for another two years, and Jinyoung was ready to monopolise his time with his son. He couldn’t even imagine a world without his son now that he took care of him. Yugyeom was all he needed.

“Daddy, come push me!” And it may be a little selfish, Jinyoung thinks as he makes his way over to his son, it may be a little selfish but he wants to be the only one Yugyeom depends on. As Yugyeom smiles up at him, head hanging back like it might drop off, Jinyoung’s heart almost melts.

He just loves his son. “Yugyeom-ah?” Yugyeom turns back, legs kicking in the swing.

“Yeah, Daddy?”

“I love you.” Yugyeom squeals and makes grabby hands at Jinyoung, and Jinyoung, always soft for his son, takes his little hands and kisses them.

“I love you too!” Yugyeom slurs out the words, leaning forward and giving Jinyoung a big, wet kiss on the hand as well. A very wet kiss. But Jinyoung loves it anyway, giggling and pressing one more kiss to the top of Yugyeom’s head. This time Yugyeom sighs with a little pout. “Daddy, I wanna be pushed.”

Jinyoung barks out a short laugh, returning to his place behind the swing. “Your wish is my command, little prince.” Yugyeom grins, toothy and wide.

“You can be my knight, daddy! Knight Daddy!” Yugyeom smiles up at Jinyoung once again and Jinyoung can’t help but press a kiss to the top of Yugyeom’s head once more. The kid giggles once more, twisting in his seat as the swing comes to a halt. “Daddy! You’re my knight! No kisses!”

Jinyoung snorts but assumes a face of stoicism. “My liege, I shall do what you request.” He bends into a kneel, and Yugyeom giggles happily.

“I wanna find a king! A prince has a king!” He pauses, and Jinyoung peeks up at his son. “Daddy? What’s a liege?” Jinyoung holds back a snort, Yugyeom would not have been amused.

“It’s what a prince is to a knight, someone who is more powerful.” Yugyeom is pleased with the explanation, hopping off the swing and toddling around. Jinyoung follows him closely behind.

Yugyeom is looking for another friend to play with him, and Jinyoung feels slightly sorry he took Yugyeom on a weekday. He had a lot of work lately, so today was the only free day. Thankfully, Yugyeom still seems to have the time of his life climbing around on the empty playground anyway.

Jinyoung lifts him up to do monkey bars and Yugyeom squeals in delight. He’s glad the kid is having fun; though he works at home he is often too busy to spend time with his son and Jinyoung always feels bad. He knows Yugyeom loves him but he worries sometimes.

“Hi!” Jinyoung snaps his head up. He had set Yugyeom down to tie his shoe and his son had run off and was talking to some stranger who was jogging on the path around the park. “Can you be king?” Oh, God. Jinyoung is mortified.

He quickly walks up to Yugyeom. “Yugyeomie, don’t bother strangers, all right?” He picks up his son, much to the child’s chagrin. “I’m really sorry,” he apologises to the man as Yugyeom squirms a little.

The stranger just laughs a loud laugh that Yugyeom immediately mirrors with a wide smile. It’s a domino effect, and Jinyoung can feel the corners of his lips pull up as well. “Are you missing a king?” Before Jinyoung can respond, Yugyeom nods empathetically.

“I’m a prince and daddy is a knight! Can you be king?” Jinyoung can feel his face heat up and the man smiles wide and pretty.

“Yeah, I can be a king. Did you know my last name means king?” Yugyeom grins at that, squirming even more. After getting a tiny hand in his mouth, Jinyoung finally sets Yugyeom down.

“King? Really?” Yugyeom is way too excited about this fact. “Are you a king?” The stranger laughs again.

“No, little buddy, it’s just my last name. I’m Jackson Wang.” Jackson squats down and offers Yugyeom a hand. Yugyeom takes it gleefully and shakes it, grinning wide at Jackson.

“I’m Yugyeom! And this is Daddy!” Jackson looks up at Jinyoung with a short breath of laughter.

“Hi, Daddy,” he says a lot more sultry than needed and Jinyoung chokes on his spit. Jackson giggles again, seemingly never running out of laughter.

“I’m Jinyoung,” he corrects—is it really correcting?—and Jackson stands up, offering a hand to Jinyoung as well. Jinyoung shakes it with a slight smile. Jackson was a very handsome man, Jinyoung wouldn’t deny. He had a good face with strong features, and Jinyoung couldn’t help but be drawn to him.

“Are you the father of this cutie?” Jackson nods toward Yugyeom, who makes grabby hands at Jinyoung. Jinyoung bends down to pick Yugyeom up with a groan. Yugyeom was getting bigger, Jinyoung would have to get more clothes for his son soon, and maybe work out a little more too. All his son wants, it seems, was up, down, up, down.

“I am,” Jinyoung answers, and with that, Yugyeom reaches out and extends his hand towards Jackson.

“High five,” he chirps and Jinyoung laughs softly. His cousin, Wonpil, had gotten Yugyeom to start asking everyone for high fives, and it was rather endearing. Jackson apparently finds it endearing as well, giving Yugyeom what he asked for with an even bigger smile.

“How old are you, Yugyeomie?” The nickname slips out of Jackson’s mouth easily and Jinyoung has to hold back a smile at how cute the interaction is. Yugyeom beams right back at Jackson, holding up one hand with all fingers spread.

“I’m four!” Jinyoung chuckles.

“Baby, that’s five fingers.” Yugyeom laughs, ignoring it, and Jackson snorts as well.

“I’m not a baby! I’m a prince!” Yugyeom pouts at his father, and Jinyoung laughs.

“Apologies, my lord.” His son is appeased, grinning up at his father and patting his cheek. If it was anyone else, Jinyoung would’ve found it condescending but Yugyeom was an exception.

“Can you play?” Yugyeom immediately turns to Jackson with a big, moon-eyed, grin right now. He has never so much seemed like a big, friendly, puppy at this moment. Jinyoung mouths a ‘sorry’ at the man, who just smiles indulgently.

“I always have time to play,” he agrees, and Yugyeom beams, wriggling out of Jinyoung’s arms and holding out a hand to Jackson. Jinyoung watches with a fond smile as Yugyeom tugs Jackson across the playground when–

“Daddy, you’re supposed to be my knight!” Jinyoung has been summoned.

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abarbaricyalp · 4 years ago

Note

prompt idea for sam/steve/bucky

sharing clothes :)

All Caps, my love (this was so fun to work on because it really highlighted how differently I write them when Steve is involved)

Set in the same universe as You Don't Have to Read My Mind (to know what I have in mind) which means Nico and Hattie make a return and silver fox Commander Rogers is around

Read on AO3!

The Other Be Other

It was Nico who noticed it first, so he didn’t say jack to anyone. Well, not right away. It took him three days to break and scoot his desk chair into Hattie’s cubicle. “Hey, did you see Barnes the other day?” he asked.

Hattie’s eyelids actually fluttered. “Fuck, he looked so good,” she said. “And smelt good too.”

Nico scrunched up his nose. “He smelled like fried fish. Anyway, did you see that shirt he was wearing?”

He let Hattie think. Let her mentally redress him. “It was that blue fishing shirt, wasn’t it? Over a white t-shit. He had it open.”

“Yeah. It was a blue shirt with darker blue sharks on it,” Nico said.

“You pay a lot of attention to him. Hey, if you’re into Barnes, I’m not backing down. You’ll have to fight me for him,” she teased.

Nico blushed furiously and then willed it away because he didn’t want to explain why he was blushing or let Hattie think he was blushing because he had a crush on Barnes. “No, that’s not what I meant. Wilson was wearing the same shirt two weeks ago when he came in to file the newest report on Walker.”

Now Hattie scrunched up her nose. “Fuck that guy,” she said and Nico almost laughed.

“I would’ve thought he was your type.”

“As if,” she said. “So what? Barnes and Wilson have the same shirt.” Nico cut her an unimpressed look. “You think Barnes and Wilson are wearing the same shirt,” she clarified.

“Listen, everyone already knows Barnes wears Wilson’s Air Force hoodie,” Nico said.

“Someone said it was the new Falcon’s.”

“It’s not Joaquin’s,” Nico said quickly. Too quickly. Horrifyingly quickly.

“Oh my God, do you like the new Falcon?” Hattie asked.

“We’re not talking about the new Falcon,” Nico said. “We’re talking about Wilson and Barnes.”

“Barnes and Wilson,” Hattie corrected.

“Wilson is Captain America. He comes first.”

“You think so?” she asked with a wicked grin.

Nico blushed so hard he thought he might actually spring a fever.

* * *

“Why are you wearing that, Barnes?” Sam asked from the driver’s side of the car.

“What, you don’t like it?” Bucky asked, tossing his duffel bag into the backseat and climbing into the passenger side. “You left it in the dryer. It was the first thing I grabbed.”

“Grab your own clothes,” Sam said.

“Damn, you’re about to have Steve go down on you, can you lighten up?” Bucky snorted. “You’re high strung.” He leaned over to kiss Sam sweetly and then tried not to laugh when Sam turned it all sorts of filthy. “Save it for Steve, tiger,” he teased. “He whined all night last night about missing you and you not bein’ around to get on the phone with him.”

“He’s been up there for a week,” Sam said as he rolled his eyes. Sam had also kind of been kicking himself for managing to miss the call last night, though. It was probably why he was so grouchy this morning. “Four more hours,” he added.

“I have to swing by HQ and drop off our reports for this mission,” Bucky reminded him.

“Right, you have to do that. I’ll drop your ass off and go get my man.”

“Hey, he was mine first,” Bucky said.

“So I’ve got time to make up for.”

Bucky shoved Sam’s shoulder and got a reaming about car safety even though they were barely on the road yet.

* * *

It happened again a week later. Wilson and Barnes had been in and out of the office, always so, so, so loud. There was always an argument to be had, always a fight to pick with Fury, always something embarrassing to say about Commander Rogers. Nico couldn’t figure out why they spent so much time around the office. Rogers worked in a whole different building and Fury wanted nothing to do with either of them, as far as he could tell.

But there they were at 11 AM, complaining that it wasn’t lunch yet. At 3 in the afternoon, tempting people to leave early. At 9, right after official-opening, with coffee for everyone but Fury, who wasn’t around to see their joke anyway.

There was Sam at two in the afternoon, wearing a leather jacket that was so out of place in the middle of DC in the dead of summer in the heat of the afternoon. Nico could sweat just looking out the window. But, Sam looked really, really good in the jacket, so Nico couldn’t fault him for suffering through the heat to wear it.

Damn, maybe it was a Falcon thing with him.

And maybe Nico did watch Sam a little closely. Maybe he kept his eyes on Sam’s back while he leaned on a cubicle wall that was not strong enough to support him and all that muscle. Maybe he stared at his smooth skin and the way the jacket pulled over his shoulders and--

There was stitching around the arm of the jacket. Nico blinked a few times to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light, but there was definitely blue thread holding the arm of the jacket to the rest of it.

And actually now that he was looking at the jacket and not Sam Wilson, he recognized the pattern on it, the weird ribbing down the sides, the golden buckles on the back to adjust the waist. He’d seen that jacket before. On the news. Several months ago, he’d had to pour over news footage of a Serpent Society...attack? fight? because Barnes had been part of it and his dumb report had said, I know there’s video footage of this. That’s my statement. So Nico had needed to put together a fucking highlights reel of Barnes’ action to file the report.

He’d gotten in trouble for it too.

He pulled the file up on his computer and watched the footage for a second to make sure it was the same jacket. And it was, except Barnes had ripped the sleeve off of his to show his metal arm. The left arm. The arm resewn onto this jacket.

The video suddenly cut into sound, making Nico jump. Sam Wilson looked over at him, at the footage on the computer and Barnes flipping over cars to avoid gunfire in that jacket. He reached over to shut the player off on Nico’s computer. “You work too hard, kid,” he said. “Barnes is never gonna give you a day off if you don’t take it.”

“Ha, how’d you know he’s always stuck...I mean, assigned Sergeant Barnes’ reports?” Hattie asked.

Sam shot Nico a knowing look and Nico panicked, thinking Sam knew that Nico knew about more than the $100 on his desk and a missing file. But that was impossible. It was just because of the note and bribery.

Bribery from Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Jesus, what was his life?

* * *

“This was a eight hundred dollar jacket,” Steve scolded. The irritation on his face, coupled with his silver hair and those damn broad shoulders, was doing all sorts of things to Sam that Sam didn’t want to analyze too deeply. He mostly wanted to sit back and snicker at Bucky getting in trouble.

“I’m just gonna rip that arm off again,” Bucky said boredly, one leg tucked under him on the couch where he was lounging, the other thrown over Steve’s back. “Why blue thread?” he asked eventually.

“To shame you into not doing this shit again,” Sam said.

“Color theory,” Steve answered.

“There’s no color theory to using royal blue thread in a black jacket. It’s not even navy,” Bucky said.

“You wanna do it?” Steve asked.

“Obviously not. Can name a lot of other things I do want to do though.”

Steve threw the jacket at Bucky’s face instead of answering. Sam jumped up to snag it before Bucky could toss it across the room.

“What’re you doin’?” Bucky lilted up at him, turning bright blue eyes towards him from the arm of the couch. Sam reached out to stroke his thumb over Bucky’s jaw and then down his arched neck.

“Gonna wear it ‘til it stops smelling like the two of you,” he said. And then gasped and dropped the jacket as Steve was suddenly right on top of him, pressing him to the wall and kissing down his neck.

“Damn, I’ve gotta tear more shit up more often if this is what it gets me,” Bucky hummed and did something with a zipper and his metal hand that Sam could guess at but did not want to tear his eyes away from Steve to confirm.

* * *

“Holy shit,” Hattie breathed, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.

To read the reports from the heroes was one thing. Nico had read about so many bones sticking through skin that the image had started to lose its gruesomeness. He’d never been in a firefight and he’d only been a baby during the Battle of New York and during the Triskelion event in DC a few years after. Sure, he’d been around for the Blip, had struggled through five years without half the population, and then struggled through the next years after everyone reappeared, but that wasn’t the same kind of trauma as this. And he’d still only been a kid. He didn’t know what was going on then.

Now, watching from every screen in the room and occasionally out the window, he knew he was watching something terrible. He didn’t personally know any of the heroes, but it felt like watching friends being beaten and knocked down.

“Was that Hawkeye?” someone asked.

“No, that was a girl.”

“Who’s wearing Captain Marvel’s star?”

“Oh God, Spiderman just fell.”

“Wait, the new Falcon caught him.”

“Is the Hulk still fighting that thing in the ground?”

“Yeah, Thor’s still knocked out too.”

“Where’s Captain America?”

Nico pinched his arm until Hattie reached for his hand to stop him. Suddenly, a flash of red, white, and blue crashed onto a roof, drawing the attention of whatever mystic hell demon was leading the fire and brimstone charge on downtown DC.

“Oh, shit, hell yeah, Sam Wilson!” someone cheered and then everyone groaned when some lizard-like-thing knocked Sam flying with a spiked tail to the midsection.

“Wait,” Hattie said, mostly to Nico. “That’s not Sam.”

And, yeah, that was an understatement. It wasn’t his outfit and even the cowl couldn’t hide that it was a white guy under all those stars and stripes.

“Fuck, is Walker really gonna try it?” Hattie asked.

“It’s not Walker,” Nico said. “Walker doesn’t have access to the Falcon wings. Or the original Cap suit.”

Not-Wilson, Not-Walker, Not-Captain-America struggled to his feet, holding his arm around his ribs, to face the demon thing. A news drone flew closer so the coverage could pick up on the creature rasping and snarling out words.

“Captain America, you’re the one we’re looking for,” it growled.

“Yeah,” Not-Cap said, nodding his head tiredly. “That’s what I heard.”

“Oh my God,” Hattie breathed again.

“It’s Barnes,” Nico confirmed. Wearing a sleeve and glove, clean shaven, in the red, white, and blue. In the wings.

“Is he...is he acting like...bait or something? If that thing wants Cap…”

Nico shook his head. “No, not bait. He’s a red herring. He’s distracting it for Sam.”

“We want a pure soul. A fine example to be made.” The creature’s voice suddenly changed, along with its face, talons growing from its hands, a tail curling against the roof they were on. “The righteous ones make the best sounds when we flay them.”

Barnes grimaced. “You’re gonna be really disappointed in the sounds mine makes then,” he said. In a blink, he had a gun drawn from an invisible holster and shot the creature. It howled and writhed and smoke rose from boiling lesions on its body. Something splashed back on the drone and almost immediately, the drone went out of service.

On another screen, another news source, another camera, the lizard that had attacked Barnes earlier scrambled across the roof towards him again and Bucky went flying back, literally. The wings lifted him into the air, but not quickly enough. The lizard leapt up too, caught claws in Bucky’s leg and scored gashes down his thigh and calf as it fell away and then tried to climb back up. Bucky shot at it with the same gun he’d shot the demon with but it had less effect. He kicked at the lizard’s head with his good leg and urged the wings to take him higher. Again, the lizard scored down his leg and Bucky was obviously in pain as he tried to kick it free again. Eventually he must have hit a soft spot and the thing fell off, taking chunks of uniform and God knows what else with it.

This camera was too far away to pick up any words, but Nico saw Bucky’s hand go to his ear, to a comm. Then he was flying back down to the same roof. Another drone swooped in and everyone moved to the screen broadcasting that channel.

“Humans are messy creatures,” Barnes said to the struggling figure on the roof. It shifted again, acid and fluids and skin staying behind on the roof as it turned into something with feathers. “I don’t think you’ll be impressed with many of our souls. They’re all fucked up in one way or another.” He blinked tears and sweat out of his eyes and Nico wondered how badly he wanted to take the cowl off. He hated having his face covered. It was one thing he did manage to write in his reports.

“You’re a liar,” the creature said.

“You’re not the first to call me that,” Barnes agreed. “Definitely the ugliest though.”

“You’re a child playing dress up. You’re not Captain America.”

“Nah, they gave the job to the more good looking guy,” Bucky agreed and took the gun out again.

Nico wasn’t sure if he took a step to get closer or if his messed up leg finally gave out, but in the split second that he had to readjust, another animal demon, something catlike and long, lunged at him, at his arm, and sent him sprawling onto the roof.

“Bucky!” someone in the room cried as the demon towered over him, lifted itself on oily wings, talons like swords pointed to Bucky’s body as he tried to crawl away on a bad leg and bad arm.

And then something even darker crashed into the demon mid-air. The Winter Soldier? That wasn’t possible. Bucky was on the ground. But there was that silver arm, the heavy black tactical gear, holsters in every size and shape. That fucking mask that Nico wanted to burn himself the longer he read Bucky’s reports.

“That’s Sam!” Hattie shouted and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Her other hand tightened in Nico’s and they both stepped closer to each other. Sam grappled with the demon in flight. He was far nimbler on the wings, more dexterous and faster. He had something silver in his hand, a blade of some kind. Occasionally it glowed and it was the only way Nico could tell the demon and Sam apart, to find an end to the black wings and find Sam’s stealth wings, to make sure Sam was still in one piece.

The blade glowed as it made contact with the demon’s midsection and Sam wrenched it all the way up its body. Ichor and acid spilled onto the roof and now Nico’s hand tightened in Hattie’s as the news drone panned down quickly to watch the blood fall. To watch Joaquin pull Bucky out of the way, using the Falcon wings as covering as he did so.

The drone refocused on Sam, who had the stealth wings driven into either side of the demon’s neck, another weapon in his hand, something beaming and sharp. Redwing appeared directly in front of the drone before Sam made contact with the demon. The body fell out of frame in a split second and then Redwing was gone too.

Sam just about crashed down to the roof. There was blood running the length of his face and a swollen eye, scratches down his weapons arm. The kevlar was torn apart, but he seemed to be in one piece. He ripped the mask off of his face, jaw and mouth protected, no broken bones or loose hinges, yanked away the silver cast he’d had on his left arm, and there were no injuries on that side either.

Demonic creatures squealed and writhed where they’d been, decaying into blood and ash and stone. One was too close to Joaquin and Bucky, but it stopped too, claws just short of Joaquin’s jetpack.

Sam was running over to them before the wings could even retract fully. He skidded to his knees by Bucky’s body, lifted him up, held him close with an arm around his back, the other hand going to the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky reached for Sam’s arm with his human hand, covered in blood, bones sticking out of his forearm, elbow smashed visibly. Still, he put his hand on Sam’s arm, tried to squeeze it.

Sam brought their foreheads together.

* * *

“Stop moving,” Steve said. Normally, he would have snapped it. Reminiscent of a thousand bad nights in their apartment in the thirties. Stop moving, Stevie, you’ll upset your lungs. Stop moving, Stevie, those knuckles are never gonna heal. Stop moving, Stevie, you’ll press your cold toes against my leg again.

He reached over for the water cup Bucky wanted and helped him drink it slowly. When Bucky started to cough, Sam jolted awake on his other side. “What’s happening?” he asked, blinking blearily and scratching at the gauze over his eye.

“Bucky never learned how to swallow,” Steve said.

All three of them took in a breath to make a joke but none of them actually said it outloud. It felt too wrong. The air was still too raw. Everything about them was still raw.

Raw. Flayed.

Steve turned and retched into the sink on the other side of the room. A moment later, Sam’s hand found his back and gently rubbed between his shoulder blades. He was using the left hand, Steve figured. There were no bandages rubbing on Steve’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said for the millionth time in the twenty hours since the fight. “I should have never sent you out.”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve,” Bucky sighed. “There were a dozen other heroes out there. Most of them kids. We weren’t gonna sit around and do nothing.”

“I told you to make the sacrifice play. I told you to fight through it.” When Sam dropped something over his shoulders, something warm and smelling of disinfectant but also Sam’s cologne, he curled his fingers in it and hide his face against it.

“Yeah, ‘cause we’ve never been hurt before,” Bucky agreed. “Get over here, you dope,” he said and patted the bed with his metal arm.

Steve and Sam went back to the bed. There was enough room for Steve to sit with one leg kicked down the bed and the other resting over the edge, on the floor. Sam carefully sat on his lap like Steve had been the one in the fight. Like Steve might be hurt. Steve hugged his arms around Sam’s midsection and rested his cheek on the back of Sam’s shoulder, wrapped Sam’s blanket around him too.

“You know,” Sam said and then had to reach for the water himself. Sulfur was hell on the throat as it turned out. “You looked damn good in that outfit, Barnes,” he tried again. “But don’t go getting any ideas about changing your name.”

Bucky laughed, soft and a little pained, metal arm going around his ribs again. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “I’m banging fifty percent of all Captains America. If I took on the mantle, I’d skew my own numbers.”

Steve tsked on his other side and ran a hand through Bucky’s hair gently. “Behave, Barnes.”

“I’m sure there’s some sort of toy out there that’s supposed to emulate the Winter Soldier,” Sam said. “You could probably technicality your way out of it. Plus your own fingers,” he pointed out. “Then you’d be up to sixty percent.”

“Jesus,” Steve breathed and turned his eyes Heavenward. “Neither one of you would’ve done the job for what that thing wanted,” he said.

“Wow, Rogers, was that a joke about our near-death experience?” Bucky asked. But he couldn’t keep the faux outrage up. He grinned and reached for Steve’s hand against Sam’s thigh.

Steve kissed Sam’s shoulder and then brought Bucky’s knuckles to his mouth. “I’m so fucking happy you’re both okay,” he whispered softly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if anything had happened.”

“Nothing did, Steve,” Sam said, turning to catch Steve’s lips on his. “You had a solid plan and we executed it like you said we would. We’re a good team.” He kissed him again and then reached over to rub his thumb along Bucky’s wrist so he didn’t feel too left out.

“Besides, if anything did happen, you’d become the first American to have to go to hell to get his lovers out. It’s normally a Greek thing, I think,” Bucky said.

Steve rolled his eyes, exasperated and so, so, so lucky in love.

* * *

“Do you think...they’re in trouble?” Hattie ventured, staring at the locked office door that they’d all been barred from coming near when Wilson, Barnes, and Rogers had walked in two hours earlier.

It had been three weeks since the Spawning, as people around the office, and literally no one else, was calling it. In that time, Nico had seen neither hide nor hair of any of them, or even really Fury. All of their projects had been granted stays of deadline and Nico had even been invited into a committee to sort through the reports of the Spawning. Mostly because Wilson and Barnes were both involved and that was basically only his M.O. now.

He hadn’t seen Fury call Wilson, Barnes, and Rogers in. Granted, they weren’t in their normal office space. The committee had actually been moved to Commander Rogers’ building. He’d been the commanding officer of the mission to take down the Spawning, so it was just easier to stay at his beck-and-call.

“It’s not Rogers’ office, is it?” Hattie asked.

Nico flipped another pencil into the ceiling. “No. His is a big corner office with all the windows.”

Hattie stood on her chair and yanked three pencils down. “So whose office is that?” she asked.

“Hat, I moved over here at the same time you did,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I know you’re cozy with Torres and he knows shit like that.”

“I am not!” Nico insisted like he always had to when the subject came up. “Besides, he’s Air Force, not Shield. Sam gave him the wings. He’s a freelancer.”

“Too bad. There’s no money in freelancing. You’ll have to be the bread-winner.”

Nico dragged his hands over his face. A pencil fell from the ceiling and hit him in the head. “Maybe it’s an empty office. A meeting room. Maybe they’re having a National Icons Meeting.”

“Maybe. I have to pee. Text me if anything happens?”

Nico gave her a half-hearted salute and slouched down in his chair. Of course, almost immediately the door opened and Steve Rogers stepped out.

Nico was so entirely fucked once again.

Because Steve Rogers was disheveled. Unkempt. Messy. Taken apart. Wrecked. In a very good way.

Nico brought his hand over his face but kept looking through his fingers.

Steve Rogers’ hair was sticking up every which way and there were at least three hickies on his neck. And one on his shoulder, which Nico could see because he was in that damn shark shirt, unbuttoned and half off his shoulder. There was a whole entire bite mark around his collarbone.

Steve Rogers looked around the hallway and glanced over the office and didn’t see Nico apparently. He tugged the shirt on straight and buttoned most of the buttons, except for two that Nico was pretty sure were missing at the top. And then, and then, he put on the jacket with the ribbing and the buckles and the dumb blue thread.

Steve Rogers ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Just in time for the office door to open again and to have Bucky Barnes, with a lot of skin showing, appear and say loudly, “You took Sam’s underwear,” and haul him back into the room with the metal arm. Nico heard the door lock.

He slowly crawled out of the office, ran into Hattie in the next hall.

“Hey, did anything happen?” she asked, drying her hands on her pants.

“Nope,” Nico squeaked unconvincingly. “Just got sent home for the day.”

“Sweet,” she said. “Wanna go get some lunch?”

Nico nodded silently even though he wasn’t sure if he should try eating. He really needed to ask for that transfer.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #steve rogers #the falcon and the winter soldier #captain america #all caps #writing

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heli0s-writes · 5 years ago

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Ugly Christmas Sweater Party

Summary: Bucky (sort of) agrees to wear an ugly Christmas sweater, but what he ends up wearing is much worse. This is for @holy-captain‘s 1.2k writing challenge! Congratulations, Liv and thank you for hosting! I’m so sorry it’s late!!

Pairing: Exasperated!Bucky x ChaoticDumbass!Reader

Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 1.8k

It’s supposed to be a fun and light-hearted thing—a season full of shiny-glowing-fantastic-twinkling excitement and ruddy red noses and misty breath in the chilled air. A season of joy and celebration, of spiked eggnog, fuzzy striped socks, and sliding down the compound hillsides on Steve’s shield.

And he’s screwed it all up.

It sinks in like the swollen marshmallows in his now cold cocoa, drooping to the bottom where the rest of the sediments lie. Outside, snowflakes gust and whip, blanketing the pine trees and skeletons of shrubbery in white flurries. Red holly berries peek out where they can and glare at him with their crimson eyes.

His phone lights up with picture messages of Steve and Sam, hurriedly trying on a cluster of sweaters in preparation. Horrid renderings of cats on ornaments. Oversized slouchy sleeves flecked with tinsel. Santa’s dreadful ass-crack peeking out of a chimney.

Bucky grumbles and turns his phone face-down, leaning back in his chair to stare at the Christmas tree in the corner. He wants to scream and put his leg through the damn thing.

Soft footsteps draw his attention to the hallway when you emerge, blinking slowly as you stifle a yawn from behind your hand until you see him. Then, you scoff and disappear back down the hall.

“Wait!” Bucky calls, leaping from his seat and nearly knocking the tepid mug from the table, “Damn it, wait!”

You’re gone. Stomped back to your room and even if he starts running now, he wouldn’t be quick enough—only getting the slamming door on his nose. He’ll try anyway.

Bucky slumps against the panel, pushing his chest against the cold metal of it and his cheek until his words come out smushed into his teeth.

“C’mon!” A pathetic whine of your name before he sticks his fingers underneath the slit of the door like a cat, wiggling the bent tip back and forth. Incredible. The Winter Soldier sprawled out all over a corridor, begging for forgiveness over this.

Only silence replies; you’re probably on the bed, thinking about scratching his eyes out. He can practically see you flicking him off with both hands. You’ve never been this upset before, and it deeply troubles him considering the dynamic of your very friendship spun on the axis of one single truth: Bucky’s the annoyed one. You’re the fuck up.

And now he has no idea what to do.

One week of it and he’s completely lost; the start of it all—December 1st when Tony announced: Ugly. Christmas. Sweater. Party.

Two days before Christmas, the team will be gathering in the common area for a white elephant gift exchange, and sweaters will be judged based on ugliness. What a stupid idea.

The winner will be awarded with “no team meetings for a month” and Tony’s personal stash of bourbon as long as no one touches his whiskey.

Upon the proclamation, you had clapped your hands together and grinned, “We’re gonna win this damn thing.”

And Bucky, being regular Bucky who ignores your half-witted ideas and short-sighted fixations, muttered, “Whatever,” and went back to thinking normal-person thoughts.

For the next several weeks, you dove into your knitting, the needles clicking together faster than he’s ever seen, weaving sparkling black and bright cherry red. The rows were tightly bound, looped and coiled expertly until he could finally make out the shape on the front of it.

He really did love your sick sense of humor—although he’d never admit it—funny, twisted, always brought him a bit of joy.

“Fuck no,” he had laughed at the image of a mutilated deer, antlers dangling silver ornaments showcasing his sigil. “I am not fuckin’ puttin’ that on. It looks like hell.”

“You agreed!” And then the needles and yarn hit him right in the nose.

On your way out, a low chuckle came from the corner of the living room where Steve sat sipping a cup of steaming chai. “You know Christmas is her favorite holiday?”

A snorting laugh bubbled the surface of Steve’s tea, “Good goin’, Buck.”

“Last Christmas” is on, blaring synth beats through the halls. George Michael croons sweetly, longingly, grieving an unrequited love before jingle bells ring in the scattered percussion.

Bucky hears your voice as you carol along to possibly the cheesiest song of all time—infuriated and baffled that you won’t speak more than two words to him but will sing your heart out to this crap. George Michael, Wham! and all of England can eat his whole ass.

He trudges from his room and into the den where the lights are dimmed and the table is set with snacks and a crock pot of hot chocolate. A dish of pine cones sits in the middle, flanked by a merry snowy village filled with little ceramic teddy bears and reindeer. On the edge is a deflated Santa Hat filled with paper scraps and pens for the voting process at the end of the night.

It is seven-thirty and you are standing next to Sam with bent elbows, wiggling your hips to the chorus, sliding back and forth on the polished floor in fuzzy socks. The two of you are facing the window, pointing at the flurry and a mountain of sludge that was previously a horrid misshapen lump of Snowman Steve.

Bucky squints a little, alert when he sees two matching sweaters—black on the back. Hell no, he thinks.

Sam turns around and Bucky’s worst holiday fears are confirmed. One innocuous “Oh hey, man,” and all the warmth drains from him.

On Wilson’s chest is that terrible disfigured deer you constructed, its antlers spearing out from its head to reach all the way up to his shoulders.

Bucky flies across the room and before either you or Sam can do anything about it, he’s peeling the hem of it over Sam’s head, kneeing him in the groin, and taking him down onto the floor. “What the hell!” Sam yells, struggling to get out of his grasp. “Shit—get off—Barnes!”

“A red star isn’t even your fucking symbol!” His hair is in his eyes along with Sam’s elbow, their limbs and joints knocking into each other in the wrestling bout. The sleeves and front are being stretched terribly, but neither of them seem to notice.

“Hey,” Your calm voice calls from above them—falling on four deaf ears. “Hey,” You try again, and when it doesn’t seem like two grown men can stop aggressively fondling each other over a damn pullover, you raise your hand and decisively land it across the back of Bucky’s head in a deafening crack.

A swell of multiple shocked gasps rises from behind you and when Sam and Bucky freeze, they see the rest of the compound’s inhabitants staring at the scene like a disfigured Nativity display. They also see your palm, at the end of your motion, resting next to your shoulder.

Bucky gingerly rubs his wound. “Ow,” He grumbles.

“Room… now.” You command, pointing your finger down the hall. Wilted, he shuffles away dutifully, saying nothing to the others as he passes. When he’s gone, you look scornfully at Sam and your beloved jersey, loosely hanging at the edge of his torso, pulled nearly apart.

“Voting starts in twenty, kid,” Tony mentions breezily.

“Yeah,” You reply through gritted teeth, “Don’t worry, we’ll be there.”

Steve coughs behind his hand awkwardly when Bucky steps back out, the once snugly-fitting sweater around Sam hanging collapsed and loose on Bucky’s right side. You’re close behind, bouncing on your heels and smiling as if nothing had gone wrong. Steve’s not sure which is worse: your wrath or glee.

“You, uh, you alright?” He calls quietly.

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Right, Buck?”

Bucky swallows, “Uh. Yeah.”

He has no fucking idea; when you shut the door behind him, the sweater in your hand was calmly unfolded and held up to his shoulders, damage assessed by a calculating mind. Bucky still has no clue what possessed you not to scratch his eyes out that very second.

Then, you looked him up and down and said, “Put it on, Barnes. Show’s about to start.”

And if he was a weaker man, he’d be shaking in his goddamn boots at how calm you are.

The team gathers around the tree, various colored pens and torn scraps in hand as they evaluate each other’s attire. Natasha is boldly displaying a patchwork kind of cardigan with what looks like the Michelin man ominously hovering behind a tree. Tony, of course, has custom-ordered a perfectly sized wreath knitted around his arc reactor heart. Steve has completely missed the Christmas memo (or is perhaps the politest Grinch on Earth) wears blue, the tiniest hint of gold tinsel woven through.

And Sam -- stupid, stupid Sam-- who didn’t plan on being robbed of a perfectly knitted sweater five minutes before the voting process, is out of the game.

Bucky is about to write your name down, because a medium part of him feels guilty for hurting your feelings while a much larger part of him feels apprehension about what exactly might happen if you lose, but you suddenly dig your hand into his pocket.

All five fingers shove deep until your fist is gripping tight and your knuckles stab his thigh.

“Hey! No hanky-panky during voting!” Tony is scandalized.

A vicious snap of his pocketknife swings open and before he knows it, your left hand is fisting the yarn on his chest and your right is ripping it straight through. The room falls silent when you do it a second time and Bucky’s at a loss for words until the breeze hits.

Chills.

A tendril of AC sneaks through the two open holes you’ve carved and goosebumps bloom all over his chest. Dread settles in his tummy.

His nipples are pebbled and exposed for everyone to see and with a quiet click of the blade retracting, you tuck it back into his pocket.

“Let the voting begin.”

No one moves. No one makes a single sound and the whole place is quieter than a crypt until a shrill wheeze squeaks out of Sam’s nostrils. Through the choked snickering and the slowly building crescendo of everyone else’s laughter, Wilson admits, “They’re browner than I thought they’d be.”

There’d be no need for a voting process, Bucky knows. You’ve stolen the show – or rather, his nipples have stolen the show, and the once-worthy prize is now his Sisyphean burden to bear. He closes his eyes and counts to a million.

Screw exemptions from team meetings, Bucky thinks, praying desperately that when the bourbon is bestowed to him, by some miracle of sweet baby Jesus, he’d be able to get shitfaced again.

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #mcu #bag of tricks helios #Livs1.2KChallenge

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peach-the-owl · 4 years ago

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Far from Home

??? & Child!Reader

Why’d this idea come to me? I don’t really know, I guess I just kinda like writing obscure things. Did I write it anyways? Yes. Absolutely. Stepping just a little out of my comfort zone for this but I think it’ll be worth it. Does it follow canon? Probably not, but I tried to keep it close.

WARNING: This goes from 0-100 pretty fast (does that count as a warning? Whatever I’ll keep it here anyways)

Caleb has been working on a spell with Essek for a while, they'd explained what it was but you got bored and stopped listening after a bit, you were pretty sure it had something to do with space and time and that’s all you knew. It was almost complete all they had to do now was a quick test run to make sure nothing would go wrong for future uses, they were very focused as magical energy began sparking to life. You were enthralled by what was happening as the energy built up stronger and stronger, too enthralled in fact to notice the looks of concern shared between the two spellcasters. That short moment of concern and hesitance was enough to send the spell haywire, bolts of magic flying every which way, one of them coming towards you and before you could react your struck by it the last thing you hear as you blackout is someone calling your name……

Slowly your eyes crack open again immediately noticing you were outside looking to the sky, strange. You get up and look around finding yourself between some unfamiliar buildings, stepping out onto the street didn’t help either as nothing looked familiar to you. There were only two solutions to this problem for you, either you were somehow sent to Rexxentrum in a area you hadn’t visited before or this was some weird dream, you quickly pinch yourself… nope not a dream. You begin to wander aimlessly in hopes of finding something even remotely familiar to you, as you’re walking you start hearing bells but they weren’t soft, happy musical bells they were big, loud warning bells and you look around confused. A loud crash directs your attention to a tall tower where perched on it was the biggest ancient white dragon you’ve ever seen, far bigger then the one you saw from Mythburrow. With a fierce roar the dragon blasts its icy breath into the tower, chaos ensues as screams of terror rip through the streets, people were rushing in every which direction but through the crowd you see the dragon push off of the tower shattering it as it falls to the streets below. You didn’t know where to go or what to do, it’s not like you weren’t used to tense situations but this felt larger then anything you’ve seen or done before. The crowd of panicking people seemed to mostly come from an area where a giant ancient green dragon now stood unleashing a cloud of poison in its wake as it was attacking something or someone but it was hard to tell for sure as you were being pushed along with the crowd. The constant pushing and shoving of people causes you to stumble to the ground, no one paying you even a glance as they try to get as far away from these dragons as possible. You can feel ever stomp on your hands and kick to your sides as your basically being trampled, you curl in on yourself for extra protection as you carefully crawl your way out of the mass of people. It dawns on you that you might not even be in Wildemount anymore, but there was a time for those questions to be answered later as you hear a loud sort of explosion in the distance. You finally make it out of the crowd a bit battered and bruised but otherwise alright and make your way though the gaps between buildings where less people were still making their way through. Another explosion of fire, this time much closer to you goes off and out of it flies an enormous ancient red dragon, instinctively you duck down and throw your arms over your head for cover as it flew over you, pieces of flaming debris falling to the street in its wake. The dragon then slams into a large structure you could only think to be some sort of palace, hearing glass shattering, then you hear its booming voice tear through the city, feeling the need to cover your ears afraid you might go deaf.

"MOVE ON UMBRASYL! I CLAIM THIS IS MY DOMAIN NOW!" Who the heck was Umbrasyl? You didn’t know and you didn’t care, none of this made any sense, all you really wanted now was go home and be in the safe embrace of anyone from the Mighty Nein. A wave of heat hits you like a wall as flames pass the exit to the side street you'd stopped in leaving your right side singed, but you figured yourself lucky as those who were once running by now lay burnt or piles of ash. You hadn’t realized you were this close to the center of this city but then again you had no sense of direction in this place either, doing everything you could to ignore the sight and smell that lingered through the streets. Screams and shouts of commands could be heard in the distance, you couldn’t make out what was being said but you used it as a guide to find any source of help. Another surge of flames comes barreling down the open streets you ducking out of the way for cover but the building was unstable from the previous hit and it starts collapsing in on itself. You hurry to get out of the way before you get crushed, a large piece of flaming roof comes falling towards you making you wonder if this was how you’d die. Apparently and thankfully that is not the case as you are yanked away mere moments from an untimely demise.

"Are you alright child?" You take a second to catch your breath and look to your mystery saviour, hoping they were someone you knew. Before you was a man with thick dark hair dressed in velvet robes, you unfortunatly didn’t know them but you were still grateful for their help.

"I-I’ll be ok, thank you for saving me." Your voice was still shaky from that scrape with death.

"Oh, don’t thank me just yet. Now tell me, where are your parents?"

"I don't know, I don’t know where I am or what’s going on." Strangely you felt more panicked about all this unfamiliarity then you did the actual danger of this dragon attack.

"It's alright, you’ll be alright. What’s your name child?" The man calmly hushes you and gives you a smile, despite the situation you found it infectious and give your own to him.

"I'm (y/n), what’s your name?"

"You may call me Gilmore, now follow me and stay close." He holds out his hand for you to take and with no other options you take it now relying on a man you hardly knew to guide you through this city. As you carefully made your way around you notice your new friend scanning each area you come across very carefully as if looking for something or someone. "Where are they." His voice sounding just above a whisper.

"Where are who?" Your innocent question pulls Gilmore from some of his thoughts.

"I’m looking for some friends of mine, a bit of a colourful bunch with the tendency to make rash decisions." You weren’t sure if he worded it that way to try and lighten up your current situation or not but it caused you to giggle a little, these people sounded kinda like Mighty Nein to you although at this point you were certain they weren’t the same people. "Oh by the gods they didn’t." A look of horrified realization comes over Gilmore as he looks to the palace. His attention then goes back to you for a moment, his gaze now darting between you and the palace as he contemplates something.

"Is everything ok?" You could feel your panic set in again as Gilmore places a hand on his head a look of uncertainty on his face.

"I’d hate to put you in harms way child, but I can’t just leave you here either."

"Oh! I’ve been in plenty of dangerous situations before with my friends, I know how to handle myself." You strangely cheerful comment earns you a raised eyebrow and half-amused expression from him.

"What sort of people raised you?"

"Trust me they’re one of a kind, but they mean well." You hear Gilmore give a slight chuckle at this.

"Alright, I’ll have to take your word for it for now but we must still tread carefully." You nod in understanding and follow his lead as you now make your way to the ruins of the palace. Once you’d reached what you assumed were the front doors you cover your nose from the heavy smoky smell that still rose from the expired flames that had raked the area. You could see people coming to the area with gold, treasures, weapons, anything really, some emotionless others fearfully placing them down before heading off again. A faint sound of distress directs your attention back to the interior of the palace hurrying in you see now the gargantuan dragon snarling at a woman and three children around your age. Everything that follows happens so fast you feel as though you’re spectating your own actions as Gilmore directs the dragons attention away from the lady and kids while you, using some tips you had learned from Nott help them sneak away from the danger. None of them seemed to comment on being helped by another kid but you had to guess that things were already stressful enough to have to worry about such small details (get it small, because kids… I’ll see myself out). Heat and flames filled the room and you see Gilmore’s body skid across the ground smoking, a pool of blood quickly forming around him.

"PATHETIC HUMAN WELP." Even when not shouting, the dragons voice felt as though it could shake the foundation of this place. Seeing the dragon now lose interest you quickly spring into action.

"Child come back here, it’s danger to run out there." The lady whisper-yelled to you.

"Someone has to help him." You simply state running over to Gilmore, perhaps you’ve been in one too many situations where you've had to drag someone from the Nein away from trouble because this pulse of adrenaline was the first familiar feeling you’ve had in awhile. When you reached him you began to pull him back towards the entrance, you try to focus on your goal to ignore the blood that was starting to cover you. You see the lady take a breath before rushing to you she places her arms in a way to act as support and continues to carry him to the entrance. With her doing that you dig through your thoughts and remember something Caduceus had taught you, so you start look for anything that could help at least slow the blood flow. Your eyes land on a torn and slightly charred piece of a flag and figure it’s the best choice for now, grabbing it you run back over and place it on the wound Gilmore immediately gives a grunt of pain and winces instinctively grabbing at the wound, at least he seemed to have more focus now.

"Are you alright?" The woman asks.

"Don’t worry about me right now, we need to get to safety." With a shaky arm Gilmore points in a random direction. "There, we'll have shelter if we can make to my shop." The woman nods and starts moving towards where he’d pointed, you and the other kids following behind.

"You were really brave back there stranger." The boy says to you.

"Uhh, thanks. I learned a lot from my friends." You replied.

"That's cool, I’m Gren by the way, Gern Tal'Dorei." Was he trying to impress you? You weren’t sure but if the last name was anything to go off of you now knew where you were. But wait… you’d read a little about the Tal'Dorei family or at least seen mentions of them in stories and they were much older then the people in front of you, did this mean you were somewhere in the past too? "So what’s your name?" Your snapped out of your thoughts.

"Oh! Sorry, my name's (y/n), just (y/n) is fine."

"Hi (y/n), I’m Illiya." The shorter of the two girls introduces herself with a sheepish wave, well maybe short wasn’t the right word since you were the same height as her.

"Hi Illiya."

"And I’m Odessa, it’s a pleasure to meet you (y/n)."

"Pleasure to meet you too." The greetings all felt a little awkward and tense, maybe if things weren’t as bleak as they were you’d all be laughing. The rest of your walk was in an uncomfortable silence as you passed destroyed buildings and hid from potentially dangerous looters. The sky was dark by the time you reached your destination, being a destroyed shop, you all approach cautionsly having seen some men wander away from the ruined buildings. Gilmore, half-supporting his own weight, shuffles over to a broken but still intact bed resting in the farther corner of the broken building.

"Please, help me move this." You all help shove the bed over revealing a trapdoor underneath and with what little strange he had Gilmore lifts the door open. Looking down you could make out about three figures in the dim light, a half-elven woman with thick glasses steps forward.

"Who-who goes there!" She holds out a wand threateningly but lowers it when she takes a better look at everyone. "I’m so sorry, please come on quickly." You all make your way down the ladder being sure to hide and close the trapdoor once you’ve all made it down. "Empress Salda, it is good to see you and your children are alright."

"Barely, but thank you." The woman, who you could now guess was this Salda nods, the half-elf lady then looks at you.

"And who’s this?"

"I found this one alone on the streets, they were actually… quite helpful with our rescue." Gilmore comments through heavy breaths, leaning against a wall still clutching onto his wound.

"Hi, my names (y/n)." You introduce yourself for like the fifth time today.

"I’m Sherri." She replies, putting a hand to her chest.

"Cherry?" You repeat her name, wondering if you’d heard her correctly.

"No no, Sherri." You mouth "oh" and nod to her, she then turns her attention to Gilmore and starts doing what she can to help patch him up while the others try to settle themselves for the rest of the night.

Night falls and while the adrenaline from the days events had worn off leaving you tired you just couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. All you had right now where your thoughts swimming around in your head. We’re you really in the past? If so then that spell really did work. But what now? How were you gonna get home? Did you have to wait for the spells effect to wear? Would the spell wear off? Could you even get home? Were you stuck in the past permenantly? The longer you thought about it the more panic of never being able to return home crept into you. You lost track of how much time had past, paying little attention to the two people Sherri was originally with opening the trapdoor leaving this little underground bunker. Odessa, Illiya and Gren tried to help by playing little made up games, you mindlessly played along not really paying attention anymore. The muffled sounds of yelling and battle could now be heard from above you. Scooting yourself into a corner you let yourself have a good look around the room seeing the other kids huddle close to their mom, who defensively pulls out a dagger and Sherri looking very nervous and concerned next to an unconscious Gilmore. You pull your legs up to meet your chest, as selfish as it may sound all you really wanted was to just leave and go home where things were familiar, where dragons weren’t destroying everything, and where strangers you hardly knew weren’t the only people you had for comfort. You just wanted to go home.

The trap door swings open…

To be continued…?

I feel a little cruel just leaving it there but that’s all I have for this right now, should I do a pt. 2?

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art-gelato · 4 years ago

Text

Twice as Shiny

1. a little worse for wear, practically walking on air

Ratchet bit off a curse halfway. “If that young idiot is hanging his hopes on Starscream, of all mechs, I’ll kill him myself.”

Miko supposed that Ratchet was probably the only one around who could get away with calling Optimus Prime either young or idiot. “What hopes?” she asked. [AO3] [prev]

Miko had been given strict orders to stay out of the med bay ("I mean it, Miko," in that commanding Prime voice), so of course she set about getting in as soon as she was left unsupervised. Her timing was perfect—she approached the door to the converted storage unit just as Ratchet was exiting, and she slipped through the door behind him as he headed towards the other end of the hallway. Inside were a few beeping monitors, and a makeshift stretcher-thing that was too high up for her to see onto properly. She craned her neck, but she could only catch glimpses of a few sharp silver angles and the wings that poked out over the sides.

Undeterred, she clambered up the stretcher, which looked like it used to be some heavy-duty machinery that lifted really big stuff—probably aircraft, if its current use was anything to go by. She reached the platform with little difficulty, and found herself at the occupant's pointy feet. He wasn't moving, and his eyes were closed, and plus his wrists were chained to the rails, so she figured it was safe enough. She half-jogged along the platform until she reached his shoulder, and gave the armor plating there a nudge with the toe of her shoe. When that didn't elicit a response, she kicked him.

There was a low hum of activating machinery, and his eyes slowly opened. The creepy red glow of them was unfocused, though, and his gaze drifted aimlessly around the room before finally settling on her. "You," he croaked, and she wondered what was going on with his voice box to make it sound so crackly. It reminded her of the way Raf sounded after he pulled an all-nighter to finish his extra smart-kid homework.

She didn't like that. It made him seem more like a person.

"Me," she said, hands on her hips. "Got a problem?"

He stretched his jaw back and forth, like he was trying to get used to his own face. "Can't even remember your name," he said eventually. "But I suspect you have a problem with me."

"Duh," Miko replied. "Maybe it has something to do with all the times you've tried to kill me and my friends!"

Starscream sighed, a staticky rush of boredom. "Get in line, sparkling."

"My name is Miko," she said, giving his shoulder another kick. She wished it would leave a dent, and then maybe he'd stop looking at her with that cross between mild annoyance and vague amusement and take her seriously.

"You think I care?" Starscream asked, one side of his mouth twisting up in a mocking smile.

"I think you'd better!" Miko snapped. "Because if you do anything else to hurt my friends, I'm coming for you."

Starscream rolled his eyes. "I'm shaking." He sounded more awake now, and his attention shifted to take in the room properly. "Where's the medic? I'm surprised my new benevolent masters saw fit to allow you in here alone."

Miko crossed her arms. "They know not to underestimate me."

He looked her up and down, which didn't take him long at all. "You snuck in," he said, and his grin was almost genuine. "Nice to see a healthy disregard for authority in the youths, at least."

She burned with rage at the thought of Starscream approving of any of her actions, and she opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind when-

"Miko! What are you doing in here?"

"NothingI'mnothere!" Miko yelped automatically, scrambling for the edge of the stretcher. She tripped on Starscream's wing, but before she could fall, Ratchet's hand was there to catch her. His fingers closed carefully around her, and he carried her out the door and deposited her in the hallway.

"We'll talk later," Ratchet said through gritted teeth, and slammed the door shut.

Miko let out a long groan, then pressed her ear to the door. Ratchet was speaking, sounding way grumpier that usual. She hadn't even known that was possible.

"-a day to make sure the transplant takes. Absolutely no transforming before then, or I'll rip that T-cog right back out of you with my bare servos."

"Charming," Starscream drawled.

"If you want a smooth talker, go back to Knock Out. Optimus will be here soon to get those coordinates from you. No," Ratchet added, apparently cutting off Starscream before the former 'Con could object, "we're not waiting until you're cleared for flight. There's too much at stake. The T-cog will take, I just don't want you to strain it. Ready or not, you're giving us-"

"Miko," said a deep voice far above her.

Miko jerked away from the door and looked up. She hadn't even heard Optimus approaching—he might be twenty tons of solid metal, but the guy was stealthy. He was also very, very good at making her feel guilty when she was doing something she wasn't supposed to. Maybe it was because he didn't actually try to make her feel guilty. He just would be disappointed, but he wouldn't say he was disappointed even though it was written all over his face. Sometimes she wished he would just get mad about stuff, because she knew how to deal with angry people, but he was too nice for that.

"I went in while Ratchet wasn't there," she admitted, so it wouldn't all get drawn out.

Optimus made a contemplative sound, then crouched down so they could talk easier. She liked it when he did that, because she really felt like he was paying attention to her. Not many adults gave her the courtesy. "Starscream shouldn't be disturbed too much right now," he said. "I know you're curious, but he did just have surgery."

"I'm not curious," she said, a little too defensively. "I was making a point."

Optimus gave her a bemused look. "And what point is that?"

Miko punched her palm. "I'll scrap him if he even thinks about double-crossing us."

"I see," Optimus said. "Was he suitably intimidated?"

"No," Miko grumbled, scuffing her shoe on the concrete floor. "But I'll show him."

Optimus reached out and placed a gentle finger on her shoulder. "Starscream is our ally, at least for now," he said. "Perhaps showing him some compassion will be a more effective way to keep him so."

"That creep probably doesn't even know what compassion is," Miko said, crossing her arms.

"All the more reason, in that case," Optimus replied with a small smile that quickly faded. "However, I would prefer it if you stayed away from him."

"Aw, c'mon!" Miko whined. "If he's gonna be here, I'm gonna run into him! What, am I supposed to leave the room if he walks in?"

"Starscream is dangerous, intentionally or otherwise," Optimus said. "He's not used to being around humans, and any of you could get hurt if he isn't careful. And if he is planning to betray us, you children would likely be his first target as the most vulnerable among us."

"If?" Miko echoed back at him, hooking air quotes around the word. "OP, he definitely is. This is Starscream!"

And Optimus… hesitated. He was quiet for a moment, clearly trying to decide how to reply. "Under normal circumstances, I would agree," he said at last. "But as it is, I am certain he no longer feels any loyalty to Megatron. He's on his own side now, and I'm hoping…" Here, he trailed off, his usually steady gaze turning inward.

Miko put her hand on his finger, still resting on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Optimus?"

Optimus closed his eyes and took a deep breath (or vent or whatever it was giant robots did). "My apologies," he said. "I don't want to concern you."

"Hey, no, it's okay!" Miko said, grabbing onto him tighter, with both hands, as he began to pull away. She couldn't actually stop him, but the attempt made him pause nonetheless. "If you wanna talk about something, I'll listen. You have a hard time being vulnerable around the bots, cuz they look up to you and stuff. But you're not my boss, you're my friend. I'll listen." The words fell out of her, quickly, desperately, before she could think about them. He always gave off an aura of distant leadership, even when he was being nice to her. Now, she'd caught a glimpse of something more underneath, something small and sad and almost scared, and she needed to know.

"I- believe that would be unwise," Optimus said, and now he did pull away. Miko's hands felt empty and cold. He must have seen the disappointment on her face, because his own softened. "Miko, the strength of your heart is admirable, but this is not a weight I can lay on it."

Miko clenched her fists. "Gimme- gimme something I can do to help, at least." Because she could see it—he needed help, and the problem wasn't something punchable, or shootable, or even medically fixable. It wasn't something any of the Autobots could help him with, she was sure of it. She wasn't certain she could help either, but she wanted to try.

Inside the med bay, Ratchet and Starscream were arguing, their words muffled but the vitriol coming through loud and clear. Optimus' eyes flicked in the direction of the closed door before returning to Miko. "This is not your war," he murmured. "Perhaps you can see things in another way."

With that, he pushed himself back to his full height, and Miko knew the conversation was over.

She threw her arms out and shouted at him anyway. "What the scrap is that supposed to mean?"

Optimus just gave her a faint smile and opened the door.

"-not a prisoner my aft! Take these chains off me right fragging now, Hatchet!"

"Sit still, you insufferable glitch, I told you-"

"I hate to interrupt," Optimus said, and that shut them both up.

That was one of the many things Miko thought was really cool about Optimus—his ability to just stop people right in their tracks, no matter what they were doing. Often just by showing up. She aspired to have that kind of power someday.

But she knew the start of a boring conversation when she saw one (something something keys, something something coordinates), so she skulked off. Bulkhead would certainly be looking for her by now, anyway. It was almost dinner time, and she had to be home in half an hour or her host family would… worry, or something. Who knew.

Besides, she had some stuff to think about.

The next day was a Saturday, which meant normally Miko would have slept in past eleven. But this Saturday, she woke up with a weird knot of anxiety in her gut around eight and couldn't fall back asleep, so she shot a message into the group chat with Jack and Raf.

u guys up?

Almost immediately, Raf responded. Wow, I'm surprised you're awake.

cant sleep, Miko typed back. i wanna head over to base u in?

Yeah why not, Jack said. My shift isn't until later anyway

Is something going on? Raf asked. I mean, besides the stuff with the Omega Keys.

Miko's thumbs hovered over her phone for a minute before she settled on a reply. idk lets talk on the way

After that, she sent a message to Bulkhead, asking him to pick the three of them up. Then she rolled out of bed and got ready as fast as she could. She pulled her hair into its second ponytail as she crept quietly down the stairs, hoping no one from her host family was around. Luck was on her side as she snagged some breakfast from the kitchen—they tended to sleep in on the weekend as well.

"Oh, hey, hun," said a voice behind her. "You're up early."

Miko's groan was muffled behind a piece of toast. So much for luck being on her side. "Morning, Mrs. Jones," she said, not bothering to swallow her mouthful of bread first. She poured coffee into her travel mug and dumped in a few heaping spoonfuls of sugar. Then she added cream, screwed the cap on the mug, and shook it.

"Big plans for the day?" Mrs. Jones asked.

Miko turned around, looked Mrs. Jones in the eye, and took her time washing down the toast with the coffee. "Yup," she said, popping the 'p'—a neat trick to insert attitude into a simple word that she'd picked up from some of the girls in afterschool detention. "I'll probably be back late."

Mrs. Jones had a tense smile. Miko wasn't sure if it was always like that, or just always like that for Miko. "Hanging out with your friends… James and Roger?"

"Close enough," Miko said, and was saved by the honk of a horn outside. "I gotta go. See you, Mrs. Jones." She brushed past the older woman and hurried out the door.

Sure enough, Bulkhead was waiting by the curb. She was usually last to get picked up if one Autobot was getting all three of them, but when it came to Bulkhead, she had automatic dibs on the passenger seat. When she opened the door, she saw Jack behind the wheel and Raf in the back seat. Both boys gave her a wave.

"Morning, guys!" she said, feeling a sudden surge of energy as she hopped in and deposited her travel mug in the center console. "Okay, so, something super weird happened yesterday."

"Seatbelt," Bulkhead reminded her.

"Weird how?" Jack asked, simultaneously.

Miko huffed and buckled herself in, and Bulkhead began to drive. "So I snuck into the med bay after Screamer got his appendix removed or whatever," she said.

"That's where you were?" Bulkhead exclaimed, then added reproachfully, "I was looking everywhere for you."

"And you didn't look in the one place I was told not to go? C'mon, Bulky, you know me better than that."

"I-" Bulkhead paused. "Yeah, that's on me. Wait, Starscream didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No, he was just, like, kinda rude," Miko said, flapping a dismissive hand. "The weird thing happened with Optimus, actually. I was listening at the door after Ratchet kicked me out, and Optimus came up and gave me one of his dad lectures about compassion and stuff. That's the boring part. But he seems really convinced that Starscream isn't gonna double-cross us. That's weird, right? Like, double-crossing is what Starscream does."

"Mmph," Bulkhead said. He'd never been particularly good at subtlety. All three kids' full attention was immediately on the steering wheel, Raf even leaning forward through the gap between the front seats.

"Do you know something?" Miko asked.

"N-o," Bulkhead replied, drawing the word out into two uncertain syllables.

Miko drummed her hands on the dashboard. "Yes, you do! What's going on?"

If a Jeep could squirm, that's what Bulkhead would be doing. "I don't know!" he insisted. "Not anything specific!"

"But you know something," Raf said.

"Okay, okay," Bulkhead said, able to weather the worst Decepticon interrogations but caving under the pressure of a few determined juveniles. "I was with Prime when we went to negotiate with Starscream for the keys. Then halfway through, just when Starscream's threatening to go to Megatron out of spite or something, Optimus sends me 'n Smokescreen back to base! I don't know what went down, but after that, Optimus brought Starscream right into the base. Now we can't treat him like a prisoner, but we still have to take turns babysitting him just in case he decides to cause problems despite our deal—which! We don't even know the full terms of! We're getting what we want, but there's no way Starscream only wanted his T-cog replaced. Sure, we're not hunting him for sport either, but there's gotta be more, right? I think he and Prime hashed something out, but for some reason Prime ain't telling!"

The end of his rant was met with a few moments of silence.

"You… really needed to get that off your chest, huh," Jack said eventually.

"Maybe!" Then Bulkhead sighed. "Things have just been weird around base, y'know? It's great- beyond great that we've got this shot at bringing back Cybertron. But having Starscream with us for it feels…" He trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Icky?" Miko suggested.

"Icky," Bulkhead agreed.

Miko took a slow sip of her coffee as she thought. She couldn't bring herself to tell Bulkhead the last thing Optimus had said to her, and she wasn't sure why. Maybe because it had felt like it was just for her. Or—no, that wasn't right. It just wasn't for the other Autobots. That was why he'd said it to her. Because he couldn't say it to anyone else. It had been a moment of… weakness, or something that could be easily perceived as weakness.

But she couldn't figure this out on her own, and Jack and Raf had just as much insight into how Optimus' brain worked as she did.

"Would anyone know what OP is thinking?" she mused aloud.

"Ratchet, maybe," Bulkhead said. "He's known Optimus the longest. Since before the war, before the Primacy, before everything. If anyone's got a clue, it's the doc. He won't talk to us about Optimus, but maybe he'll talk to you."

When they got to base, the Autobots were holding a discussion in the main area. They stood around a stack of crates which the four Omega Keys sat atop, fused into a pyramid shape with a holographic blue orb floating above the point.

"-all the good a map does us," Arcee was saying. "We can plot routes through the wastes as much as we like, but that doesn't change the fact we can't even get there."

Bumblebee chirped something.

"Because using Megatron's spacebridge worked out so well for us last time," Ratchet replied wearily. "We've been over that already."

"They've been at this since before I left to pick you guys up," Bulkhead muttered to the kids. "Talking in circles. I was ready to make up my own excuse to get out of here by the time you texted me."

Smokescreen, separate from the rest of the Autobots, was the first to notice them. He was clearly on Starscream duty, since he and the former 'Con were leaning back against the wall to the right of the entrance. Smokescreen seemed unsure if he was disappointed about being left out of the argument or relieved. Starscream just looked bored.

"Hey!" Smokescreen called out, jerking away from the wall and making half a step towards Bulkhead and the kids before remembering his task. He glanced expectantly over his shoulder at Starscream, who made a big show of rolling his eyes and pushing out of his slouch to follow Smokescreen over to the newcomers. "They're all kinda deep in it," Smokescreen said apologetically.

"It's a wonder you lot ever get anything done," Starscream grumbled. "I've spent the last half-joor reorganizing long-term memories just to break up the monotony."

"If you would like to add your wisdom, Starscream, you are welcome to," Optimus said, his voice cutting easily through everything else. Nearly all the bots in the room jumped in surprise, and Starscream's wings flared upwards.

Then he settled them back to their default position, and slowly turned to face the rest of the Autobots. All of them were glaring at him, with the exception of Optimus. "I doubt my insight would be appreciated," Starscream said.

Arcee scoffed.

"Could you think of a way to access the spacebridge without alerting Megatron?" Optimus asked.

Starscream was quiet for a moment. Miko couldn't see his face, but his hands were clenched behind his back, one wrist caught tightly in his clawed fingers. "No," he said. "And whatever trick you used to sneak around him last time won't work again. He's a fast learner. You'd have to defeat him first to get to the bridge safely—but if you had the means to do that, you'd have done so already. Wouldn't you have?" That last bit felt pointed somehow, but the meaning was lost on Miko.

Optimus, as always, was unfazed. "Any other ideas?"

"Oh, I don't know," Starscream snapped. "I don't suppose you picked up any ancient artifacts that can just magically transform your groundbridge into a spacebridge?"

"The Forge!" Smokescreen blurted. "What about the Forge?"

Now everyone's attention was on Smokescreen, and he grew uncertain when no one said anything. "It could do that… right?"

Starscream tilted his head, turning to look at Smokescreen in an exaggerated motion. "Are you referring to the Forge of Solus Prime?" he asked, incredulity dripping from his tone. "It's real? And you have it?"

Smokescreen opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Well," Bulkhead said. "I wouldn't say we… have it."

"That would work, though," Arcee said. "Wouldn't it?"

"I don't see why not," Ratchet replied.

Bumblebee let out a string of beeps.

"You just have to get it?" Starscream echoed. "Get it from where?"

The room fell silent.

"Ah," Starscream said, putting the pieces together. He straightened his back, suddenly exuding smooth confidence. "Well, that shouldn't be too hard."

"Oh, yes," Arcee said, cold and acidic. "Stealing a powerful artifact from Megatron will be a walk in the park."

Miko had already begun sidling around to where she could watch the full show, and she could see the shift in Starscream, like he was coming to life. Before, he'd been idling, only physically present because he had nowhere else to be. Miko was intimately familiar with the feeling—it was how she passed most of the time in school.

Now, the thin slash of his smile sharpened with purpose, and a low fire blazed through him, burning away any submissiveness in his posture. Even his eyes seemed to glow a little brighter. "Why not?" he said. "I know the Nemesis inside and out. I know where Megatron hoards his treasures. I know all the past guard shift schedules and I can accurately predict possible future ones. Even after going rogue, I was able to sneak aboard and raid the energon stores without getting caught. And with Hot Shot's favorite toy-" He gestured to Smokescreen. "-I could be in and out like a ghost."

"No way," Arcee said, taking a threatening step towards him. "There's no way we're letting you anywhere near the Nemesis. Especially not with the phase shifter."

"My apologies," Starscream said with false sweetness, mirroring her step forward with one of his own. "I wasn't aware you had another flight frame readily available. The Nemesis, in case you've forgotten, is quite high up."

Smokescreen shuddered. "Extremely high up."

"Arcee is right," Optimus said. "We can't trust you on a mission like this. Not alone."

"Not at all!" Arcee exclaimed with a swift chop of her hand, her glower fixed on Starscream.

Optimus laid a hand on her shoulder. "We have no other way to get aboard. Soundwave would detect the energy spike of a groundbridge. But if Starscream could carry someone-"

"Who?" Arcee said. "Bulkhead? You? I'm the only one small and light enough for him to…" Her eyes widened with realization.

"No!" she and Starscream shouted at the same time. They gave each other appalled looks.

Starscream coughed into his fist, struggling to regain his composure. "I could probably carry the yellow one."

Bumblebee jabbed a finger at Starscream as he chirped something distinctly displeased, his eyes narrowing.

"…carry Bumblebee," Starscream corrected himself through gritted teeth.

"You'll need speed and maneuverability on your side," Optimus said. "The less weight you're carrying, the higher the odds of success."

"Then don't make me carry anyone at all!" Starscream snarled.

Arcee's hands curled into fists. She began to move forward, opening her mouth to retort, only to be stopped when Optimus' grip on her tightened.

"Starscream," Optimus said, his voice somehow both soft and warning. "Compromise." It sounded less like an order and more like a reminder.

Starscream's wings flicked one after the other, as if he were physically trying to shake away his agitation. Then he took a shallow breath and straightened his spine, his hands going behind his back again as his stance became more formal. "Very well," he said, tone and expression carefully neutral. "I understand why I cannot be allowed alone on a high-stakes mission. Logically, Arcee is the best choice for infiltrating the Nemesis with me." His gaze shifted from Optimus to Arcee. "It would be foolish, at this point, to allow personal feelings to stand in the way of the restoration of our home planet."

Arcee's face contorted in fury—Miko felt scorched by her glare just by being in vague proximity to Starscream. Then she closed her eyes, breathing deep. When she reopened her eyes after a couple of moments, the harsh boil of her anger had reduced to a simmer. "Fine," she said, and looked up at Optimus. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," Optimus murmured, and followed her out of the main room.

After the two of them were gone, an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Bulkhead, Smokescreen, Jack, and Raf were still clustered by the entrance, and the rest of the Autobots were by the Omega Keys. Starscream stood alone between the two groups, looking in the direction Arcee and Optimus had left in with a strange, unreadable expression on his face.

Miko decided to take action. She strode over to Starscream. "Hey, birdbrain," she called out. "You'd better not pull any tricks on Arcee."

Starscream didn't so much as twitch, eyes still fixed on the hallway. "What would you do?" he asked, sounding oddly far away.

This threw Miko for a loop. "Huh?"

He blinked, coming back to himself, and looked down at her. "What would you do?" he repeated irritably. "If it was just you and me. If you had no weapons, no powerful friends at your back. What course of action would you take? How would you, alone, damage me?"

Miko opened her mouth, but her mind was blank. Heat rose to her cheeks.

"Back off, Starscream," Bulkhead said.

Starscream's eyes widened, and he swiveled his head towards Bulkhead. "Are you seriously telling me you've allowed these organics to follow you onto the battlefield multiple times, and never gave them the tools to defend themselves?" he asked, his irritation congealing into outraged disbelief.

"Hey!" Miko said, crossing her arms. "I took out an Insecticon, you know!"

"And just how did you do that?" Starscream said, and Miko knew her answer wouldn't hold up under the weight of his condescension.

"Wheeljack's ship," she mumbled anyway.

"So you can use your surroundings, at least," Starscream said, which wasn't exactly the scathing insult she'd been expecting. "But you won't always be so lucky." Then, to her surprise, he dropped to one knee. At the sudden movement, every Autobot in the room started towards him, and he waved a hand. "Relax, I'm just going to show her something." He crooked a claw at her, beckoning her closer. "The other two should know this as well."

Miko exchanged uncertain glances with Jack and Raf, and then the three of them warily approached. Smokescreen and Bulkhead followed, while the rest hung back and watched.

Starscream traced the tip of a claw down a seam on the outside of his ankle. For a Cybertronian, it was too small to easily access, but Miko figured she could probably stick her arm in there. "Cybertronians vary massively in design, but there are always gaps at the joints, to allow for movement," Starscream explained. "Inside those joints, you will find sensitive wiring, especially in complex areas like this. If you find yourself facing an enemy you can't beat, your goal should be to cause enough of a distraction to facilitate an escape. In that regard, ankle joints should be your prime target. Use a tool, something sharp or hooked, and long enough to get to the circuitry. Just don't actually reach inside, since that would be an excellent way to lose those fleshy little servos of yours."

"You mean hands?" Miko asked.

Starscream ignored her, continuing, "The combination of pain and surprise should be enough to buy you time. If you're lucky, you may even impair your enemy's ability to give chase, albeit mildly. However, when you are so much smaller and weaker than your opponent, every advantage counts, no matter how slight." He rested his forearm on his knee. "After that, run. Not in a straight line—our motion algorithms can easily track you. Keep your movements unpredictable and seek cover. Anything that puts objects between you and your pursuer, preferably something that disguises the direction you're headed in. Find somewhere to hide, and wait for backup."

While Starscream was talking, Raf had ventured even closer to peer through the seam Starscream had indicated, trying to get a better look at circuitry. "Cool," he breathed.

"Was nothing like that ever explained to you?" Starscream asked. The annoyance, which had begun to fade during his lecture, was back full force.

"We've gotten the 'hide and wait for backup' talk a few times," Jack said.

"Unbelievable," Starscream said, aghast. "How did I never manage to kill you?" His tone was weirdly impersonal—a little frustrated, but mostly marveling at what he seemed to view as a massive oversight.

"Well, thank you," Miko said, and realized that she meant it despite his last remark. "For telling us all that."

Starscream gave her a hard look, as if trying to assess her sincerity. When he found her guileless, his eyes flicked away, discomfort crossing his face. "It's about time someone did," he muttered, and pushed himself to his feet.

At that moment, Optimus and Arcee returned, and Starscream stepped away from the kids. Miko turned her attention elsewhere, trying to ignore the fact that she hadn't felt threatened at all while being so close to him. He was a creep and a jerk, and he probably had some sinister reason for giving them potentially life-saving advice. Yeah.

Yet she couldn't help thinking about yesterday. Starscream's voice raspy after waking up. Optimus talking about compassion and war.

Miko shoved her hands in her pockets, stepping over to Jack and bumping shoulders with him. He bumped shoulders back, and she felt a little better.

Arcee still looked furious, but also a lot calmer about it. She clapped, a sharp sound that shot across the room and drew all eyes to her. "Alright, everybody," she said. "Let's plan a heist."

While the bots plotted, Miko totally thrashed the boys at Mario Kart. The three of them were, under normal circumstances, pretty evenly matched at video games. Today, though, Jack kept shooting worried glances at Arcee, and Raf's attention faltered every time Bumblebee spoke. Miko couldn't blame them, because she was anxious, too. She just channeled her anxiety differently. That was, directly into kicking ass at Mario Kart.

Eventually, Jack had to leave. His shift started at 4, and by then the planning was over, so Arcee took him. She looked like she was dying to get out of base anyway. Miko couldn't blame her.

Now, Optimus and Ratchet were looking at something on one of the big screens, and Bulkhead and Bumblebee had joined the remaining kids for TV time. As for the last two mechs in the building…

"You don't have to shadow my every step," Starscream snapped.

"You're pacing," Smokescreen said. "It's making me nervous."

"If you don't leave me be," Starscream said, his wings vibrating with tension, "I'll give you something to be truly nervous about."

"Starscream," Optimus said in reprimand, not even looking away from whatever he was working on.

Starscream let out a low growl, flexing his claws like he was aching to sharpen them on something. "Ratchet," he said, his tone cajoling. "Hasn't it been a day already?"

Miko and Raf watched from over the back of the couch, the monster truck rally on TV forgotten. "What's he mean?" Raf whispered to her.

"Docbot's making him wait a day before he can transform again," Miko whispered back. "Overheard it yesterday."

Ratchet was close enough to the couch to hear the hushed exchange, and he gave Miko a taste of his best glare before he turned it on Starscream. "Not quite," he said.

Starscream responded by taking on a pose that could only be described as 'toadying'—bent slightly at the waist, one hand curled over the other in front of his chest, his wings dipped to a nonthreatening angle. "Surely a couple of, er, hours won't make much of a difference. We need to make sure I'm in top condition for this mission, after all. With such a skilled medic as you, I'm sure I'll be-"

"Alright, alright," Ratchet said, holding up a hand. "Just stop doing- that, and we'll head up top."

Starscream straightened up, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I wanna go," Miko said instantly. The only times she'd seen Starscream or any Decepticon transform was either from far away or while she was worried about her immediate safety. Without the threat of danger, there was no way she was gonna pass up the chance to see a giant robot turn into a fighter jet up close.

"I'd like to, as well," Raf said, apparently having the same thought.

"No," Ratchet said.

To her surprise, Starscream backed them up. "Oh, what's the harm, doctor?" he purred. Miko wondered if he was physically capable of not sounding like he was up to something sneaky at all times.

Ratchet squinted, looking between Starscream and the kids. Miko and Raf smiled at Ratchet, giving him their best puppy dog eyes.

"Fine," Ratchet grumbled, and he extended his hand to the kids. "But I'm gonna hold onto you. Ap-bup-bup!" he added when Miko opened her mouth to complain. "I'm not leaving you anywhere you can get accidentally squished."

Miko groaned, but Raf was already clambering into Ratchet's waiting palm, so she followed.

They took a cargo elevator to the top, which creaked ominously at the weight of two Cybertronians. Ratchet didn't seem worried, though, so Miko tried not to worry either. At one point, she thought she saw Starscream watching her from the corner of his eye.

The ceiling above them opened, and the platform grated to a halt once it was level with the flat rock around it.

"Nice view," Starscream remarked, casting a judgmental eye over the desert expanse. "So this is where your precious base is."

"Don't make us regret letting you in," Ratchet said, and held out a small disc to Starscream. "Optimus tell you about this?"

"Oh. The tracking device." Starscream's lip curled slightly, but he took the disc.

"Put it wherever," Ratchet said. "You can take it off, but we'll know if you do."

Starscream fiddled with it. "And if it gets damaged in the field?"

"Comm us and explain."

"Would you believe me?" Starscream asked.

Ratchet let out a harsh sigh. "Optimus will, at least."

Turning it over one last time in his fingers, Starscream said, "I suppose that's the best I'll get," and slipped it under a ledge in his chest. He cricked his neck, stretched his arms, and walked right up to the cliff's edge.

He inhaled deeply, his wings twitching in anticipation. Then he clicked his heels together and did a neat little about-face, giving the kids a smirk just before he tipped backwards off the edge. He transformed as he fell, and Miko found herself holding her breath as he dropped out of sight.

Engines roared, and Miko couldn't help whooping as he shot straight upwards, so fast the gust of wind he created made her and Raf stumble. Starscream must have heard her, because his wings waggled in what felt like acknowledgement. He kept going up, up, nosecone pointed to the clouds, until she had to shade her eyes to keep watching him. Abruptly, his engines cut out, and he seemed to hang suspended for a moment before toppling backwards again. Miko gripped Ratchet's index finger as Starscream spun around and around, plummeting towards the ground in freefall.

"Relax, kiddo," Ratchet said. "He's just showing off."

Miko couldn't tear her eyes away. How could falling like that be showing off? And then, just when she thought Starscream wasn't going to be able to pull up in time, his engines fired and he righted himself with a quick flick of his wings. He turned freefall into a graceful dive that hooked around the tall mesa that disguised the Autobot base, only half of one wing visible like the fin of a shark as he circled them. Then he was up and away again, doing loops and flips and barrel rolls, all because he could. For the sheer joy of it.

She wondered what that would be like, to have the wind as a friend and gravity as a plaything. She wondered if she could get him to tell her honestly.

"Hey, Ratchet," Miko said, still watching Starscream. "Optimus said something to me yesterday."

"Go on."

"It was after you kicked me out of the med bay. He seemed sad about something, so I asked how I could help, and he said that this isn't my war, and maybe I could see things another way. But then he wouldn't tell me what he meant."

Ratchet bit off a curse halfway. "If that young idiot is hanging his hopes on Starscream, of all mechs, I'll kill him myself."

Miko supposed that Ratchet was probably the only one around who could get away with calling Optimus Prime either young or idiot. "What hopes?" she asked.

Ratchet let out a heavy sigh. "He's got this notion of ending the war without winning or losing. Where both sides come back together to rebuild the world better this time. It's-" He made a frustrated grinding noise. "No one else would think it's possible. I sure don't. But he hopes." His free hand clenched, and he sounded so old and tired as he murmured, "Primus save him, he hopes."

Raf crouched to give Ratchet a comforting pat on the palm, but Miko just kept holding onto his finger, still watching Starscream. She didn't really know what any of that had to do with her or her ability to see things another way, and yet… she had a strange feeling she was starting to kind of understand.

Maybe it was something about the way Starscream cut through the sky. Exuberance radiated off him—there was nothing calculating or scheming in the twirl of his wings, the gunning of his engines. He'd been on the ground for so long, and now he was celebrating flight. She couldn't deny anymore that he was just another person, with his own motives and dreams and history. And if Starscream was a person, what about the rest of the Decepticons? She knew plenty of people did plenty of bad things for plenty of reasons, but she was used to applying that mentality to humans. It required another shift of thinking to apply it to alien robots, especially when she'd been taught by most of the Autobots that Decepticons were just plain bad.

And maybe they were bad people, but Miko was starting to think that maybe it wasn't all that simple. If Optimus thought there was a way to reconcile their differences, maybe… maybe…

Miko didn't know. But she was going to find out.

"Alright, pack it in," Ratchet said into his comm. "That's enough fancy flightwork for today. Save some fuel for your mission."

Starscream veered back towards the mesa, transforming again as he landed. "Killjoy," he said, but he was grinning, exhilarated and sincere. Then he caught himself, and the grin shifted into a haughty sneer.

Miko came to a decision. She wasn't sure if it was the right one, but that had never stopped her before. "Woo!" she crowed, throwing up horns with both hands. "Starscream, that was awesome!"

Starscream gave her a startled look, then quickly composed himself. "Of course," he said, lifting his chin. "I'm the best there is."

But some of the sincerity had returned to his smile, and Miko knew she could do this.

#transformers #transformers prime #starscream #starscream tfp #optimus prime #autobots #writing counts as art

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