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#or like one small thing ive been trying to do is train sunshine

thepixiediaries · 2 years

Note

🌧️ <- for the drabble thing!

rain is one of my favorite things <3

Send me emoji(s) and I'll write a drabble: 🌧️ Rainy day activities

thank u soooo much for requesting this && sorry for how long this took!! i was writing for a solid couple hours and before i knew it, this 'drabble' had basically turned into a flash fic hehe

these characters are from an as of yet unnamed steampunk fantasy wip ive been working on! its not particularly connected to the main story but i could see it being a short story/novella about them later on in the story. hope u enjoy <3

The sudden change in weather was a disappointment to Mitja. It wasn’t that he spent a lot of time outdoors but he did appreciate coming outside and being greeted with sunshine after being cooped up for however many hours he spent researching in his library, accompanied only by flickering candlelight.

Mitja was a man of routine. But while he was disappointed, this new weather didn’t particularly disturb him as it just meant he shifted that routine to accommodate the rain. As usual, he spent his time tucked into the armchair by the fireplace with a book in his hands.

On this particular rainy day however, Mitja was experiencing something highly unusual in the vein of an unexpected visitor. Nikolai had shown up on Mitja’s doorstep, completely soaked. Apparently, he had been caught out in the rain and needed to find shelter while the storm passed over.

Not wanting him to catch cold, Mitja had offered Nikolai a bath. So now, Mitja was not just reading but in fact, waiting for Nikolai. As he heard the familiar plodding of Nikolai’s footsteps behind him, Mitja closed his book and placed it beside him. He turned around to ask how Nikolai was feeling before stopping at the sight of him.

“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?” Mitja squeaked out, overwhelmed by the sight of Nikolai’s bare torso. The small towel wrapped around his neck did a pitiful job of covering the vast expanse of his upper body. Another, thankfully larger, towel hung dangerously low on his hips, forcing Mitja to look elsewhere.

The wound on his shoulder caught Mitja’s attention. Even though it was partially obscured, Mitja was intimately familiar with the shape of it. Three bullets had passed through the skin there. Nikolai was infinitesimally fortunate that none of them had pierced bone. Mitja often thanked the gods that he had been there to give him emergency care. As a result of what Nikolai liked to playfully call his “magic touch,” the wound had healed nicely. The newly-formed scar was pale in colour, contrasting starkly with his brown skin — a haunting reminder of what had transpired.

“Didn’t fit.” Nikolai answered, his voice gruff. For a moment, Mitja was confused at Nikolai’s interjection. Mitja’s thorough examination of Nikolai’s exposed body had forced his original question out of his mind. Recalling what he had originally asked, Mitja felt even more embarrassed at his shameful mind. Of course none of Mitja’s spare clothes fit Nikolai — he was built like Laocoon, sculpted in marble. Blood rushed to his cheeks as he thought about how Nikolai stood a whole head taller than him.

There was no denying that Nikolai flustered him. It was incredibly obvious from the way his body instinctually responded to his presence — and if the arrogant smirk plastered on Nikolai’s face was anything to go by, Nikolai noticed it as well. Mitja would never admit this fact out loud, if only to keep Nikolai’s considerable ego in check. In response to his knowing smirk, Mitja huffed, turning his head away in an act of play-defiance. It was a farce of course, because Mitja’s eyes stayed trained on Nikolai, looking up at him from under his eyelashes.

He had moved on from gloating and was busy drying his hair with the towel around his neck. Well, trying to, anyway. It became apparent to Mitja that the reason Nikolai was struggling was because he was avoiding using his injured arm. His heart twinged.

“Let me do it.” The words rushed out of Mitja’s mouth before he could stop himself. Nikolai cocked his head to one side, urging Mitja to elaborate. The action was so adorable, Mitja wanted to scream.

“Let me dry your hair.”

Mitja expected the ever-prideful Nikolai to protest but he surprised him by handing the towel over and plopping down in front of Mitja’s armchair without a single word.

Mitja smiled. Small victories. It felt good to be relied on.

He liked this, taking care of other people. Especially when it was a person like Nikolai, who rarely showed any vulnerability, even when he was in grave danger. It was comforting to know that inside the beast that was Nikolai Volkov, there was a human being — all soft and squishy.

Mitja thought the heat of Nikolai between his legs would be distracting but the monotonous rhythm he adopted when drying his hair soothed him. The repetitive motion allowed his mind to wander. He thought about the sheen of Nikolai’s silver hair — a bold declaration of his heritage. It reminded him of his own hair, dyed the most unremarkably dull brown he could find, and of the silvery roots that had begun to appear at the base of his head. Ever since he saw Nikolai so brazenly display that mark of his — of their — community, Mitja had begun to think that perhaps it was time for him to grow out his own hair.

Mitja paused mid-motion when he heard Nikolai let out a drawn out groan.

“Sorry, did that hurt?” Mitja asked, voice laced with concern and a sliver of guilt. He was a nurse, for gods’ sake, hurting people was the last thing he wanted. “I can stop if you’d like.”

“No, no.” Nikolai shook his head, then rested it on Mitja’s inner thigh.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. I… I like it when you do that.”

Struck by the sincerity in Nikolai’s words, it took a couple of seconds before Mitja resumed his ministrations, massaging Nikolai’s temple with the towel.

Mitja did not usually like the rain. But as Nikolai leaned into his touch, making small contented noises, he thanked the gods for sending this most fortuitous rain to him. And if he was being completely honest, for sending this man into his life.

#my work #drabbles #flash fiction #filled prompts #romance #queer romance #mlm romance #anonymous #my asks #wip: dogs of avalon

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thatonetransguyincanada · 1 year

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Character Writing Snippet:

Strawberry Kisses

Characters:

Blaine: A Rogueish young man whos lived on the streets his whole life and doesnt trust easily because of it. Except for Silas. He trusts his boyfriend wholeheartedly.

Silas: A sunshine boy whos favourite thing to do when not training is spending time with Blaine, his boyfriend.

(Warning: Spelling mistakes)

It feels like a dream.

The black and dark blues of night slowly edging away as the sun rises to bathe its warm glow over the land, painting streaks of pinks and oranges and yellows across the few clouds in the sky.

A chilling breeze tussles the grass on the ground, along with the leaves of the tree behind us.

Though the cherry on top of it all, is being able to be this close to him without worry of someone seeing us. Having his fingers play with my hair while soaking in his radiating body heat is just… there’s no other feeling out there that’d I want more. Well… maybe theres one.

“Ive… been thinking-“

“Uh oh.” Silas’ fingers still, “Should I go get someone? Do you feel okay? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Four fingers appear in my view, Silas’ face dressed in fake worry right beside them. I smack his hand away and scowl. “You asshole!”

A big toothy grin pulls Silas’ lips apart, a bark of laugher following after I push his face away. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.” I sit myself up right, his hand sliding off my scalp.

“Awe come on!“ Silas pleads while trying, and failing, to fight back that grin, “Im sorry. What were you thinking?”

“Nope. You lost your chance.” I try to scoot further from him, keeping my head turned so he wont see me struggling to keep my own smile at bay.

“Love Im sooorry! Please! I promise I’ll listen.” Silas tries again. “What if I gave you kiss? Would that be enough of an apology?”

Every cell in my body wants to crawl back onto his lap and try to taste how sorry his lips really are. But I dont. “No. You have to learn that your-“

I don’t get to finish my scolding when two python thick arms snake around my waist and pulls me back. A knee digs into my lower back, forcing me to arch my body so the position is semi confortable. I try to get out a “hey!” but my lips are captured in another pair, soft and warm.

Eyes flutter shut, a hand slides behind Silas’ head and tangles within his long hair. The taste of fresh strawberries is a pleasant surprise.

Silas smirks into the kiss, unfortunately breaking it. I try not to pout as my hand lulls free from the golden ocean and we pull away. “See? I’m really sorry.”

A small breathy laugh escapes me. “And apparently sorry tastes like strawberries. I wonder, do all your emotions have a different fruity taste to them?”

“Guess you’ll just have to do some tastes tests to find out.” Silas’ gives me a lazy smile with half lid eyes and I drown in his effortless intoxication.

This man is going to be the death of me. And I think im okay with that thought.

The smirk on Silas’ lips softens to a gentle smile to match his eyes, his hold on me loosening but not letting go. “What was on your mind Love? Im all ears this time, I promise.”

“Oh it’s…“ Heat rushes to my cheeks all of the sudden as my train of thought from earlier comes back. I shake my head and look off to the side at the sparkling dew drop grass. “It’s nothing. Just a silly dream.”

In my peripheral I spy a small frown where his smile used to be. “Dont say that. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”

My heart swells when I meet his gaze, and more blood runs up my neck to my cheeks and the tips of my ears. “Well, when you put it like that.” I readjust my body to be more comfortable on his lap and not have his knee digging into my spine any longer, pulling my gaze back to the rising sun. “I was thinking… I was thinking about what our lives would be like in the future. What our lives could look like because… I think I’d like to spend the rest of my life, with you.”

Only the morning calls of early birds and the occasional rustle of leaves catch my ears. Im torn between watching the sun and waiting for a response or to look at Silas and see for myself whatever expression he’s making.

“Are you…” Silas starts slow, his tone careful not to fluctuate, “Proposing to me?”

My eyes go wide, head snapping to Silas to see his own owl like expression. “No no no! This is not- I wouldnt- I mean not like this- not that I would out of the blue! I just-“

I want to board up my mouth so it’ll stop spewing the word waterfall that just wont stop. I want to find a hole so deep that I find diamonds waiting at the bottom while I die of embarrassment. Instead, I run a hand over my face and let out a groan.

A small nervous chuckle bounces Silas’ legs. “Phew! Okay just- just want to check cause thats what it was kinda sounding like. Not that theres anything wrong with that! We’ve just never… uh, the subjects never come up before.”

“I know. I just- I dont know.” My hand slides off my face, “You know how my lives been. Between stealing to survive and making sure I dont get stabbed in some back alley I never… I never thought love was in the cards for me.”

I sigh, cocking my head a little to look at Silas better. “Then when you walked into my life, you turned everything I thought I knew upside down. And I dont know how I’ll ever thank you.”

Silas’ perfectly kept brows pull together a little, a tenderness in his eyes that just says, ‘Awe Love,’ in them. “Blaine, you dont-“

“Yes, I do. I thought I was going to be alone forever and I thought I was okay with that.” Prickling begins around my eyes as my hand reaches up to cup my loves face. “You have no idea just how great of an impact you’ve made on my life and you probably never will. But I know. And I love you so much because of it.”

The tenderness stays in Silas’ beautiful eyes, a smile growing to match it as one of his hands rests on top of mine. He lets out a small breath, “You know, I could say the same about you.”

“Sure you could.” I offer him a smile.

“Hey. Im being serious. Before you found me that night-“

“Oh I found you did I?” I cant hide the smirk at hearing him FINALLY admit to the truth we’ve been debating for years!

“Yes okay you found me! Now shush! It’s my turn to speak.” Silas rolls his eyes with a bright smile that only seems to grow in shine within the morning sunlight. “Now, as I was sayyying. Before you found me, my life was stressful and… and lonely. Ive had all kinda of people walk into my life trying to get close to me for one reason or another, and ive probably had just as many walk out on me. Sometimes without even a word.”

My heart breaks seeing just the echoes of pain flood Silas’ features. He’ll never admit to himself how deep his hurt truly runs. He’s always let people in instead of keeping them at a distance like I have. And when those people finally showed their true colours in whatever way that was, Silas beats himself up over not realizing sooner, or even convince himself that somehow he was the one at fault.

“All except you. You’ve stayed with me through thick and think, even when I probably didnt deserve it.” His smile turns bitter, so I lightly run my thumb over his cheek. “You didnt see me as the son of some rich merchants or the star pupil of the academy. You just saw… me.”

“To be fair, I saw a lone guard in dire need of someone to mess with them.” We both start laughing, his light and rich and music to my ears.

When we catch our breath, Silas has his grin again. Some smaller pieces of hair slide over his shoulders to frame his face. His head is tilted at just the right angle to catch the sun light, giving him an ethereal golden glow.

“I love you Blaine. I love you so much.” Silas starts to lean down.

“I love you more than words can every explain.” I lift my head to meet Silas’ as we share another kiss in the early morning sun.

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ecoamerica · 20 days

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

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The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 23 - So Far From Who I Was

Masterlist; Chapter 22

Summary: As plans for operation in Stalsk-12 are underway, you and Neil can’t seem to find a common ground. His selfish plans overturn everything...

Warnings: Even more angst (sorry!!! swear it will be over very soon); swearing; some slightly dubious thoughts appearing in the reader’s minds but it’s nothing too serious.

Author’s Notes: Okay, I’m really sorry for the 10.8k, but it once again shows that I’m incapable of writing short things. This one is a wild ride and it was fun to write even if painful at times... I hope you’ll ‘enjoy’! Let me know how you liked it... and I promise... fun is near :)))

From that morning, when the precious intel magically appeared for you all to use, the metaphorical dice were cast. The last stage of the plan was officially on, and there was not much time to waste. After two days of chaotic talks, interrupted by training and trying to make sense of living aboard the icebreaker, you were told to meet with everyone else on the bridge for the official confab. Your war council consisted of TP, Neil, Ives, Wheeler, and yourself. And you were the first to admit that you had no clue what your job was supposed to be there. However, ignoring the deepening sleep deprivation, pounding headache, and weariness that has made home in your heart, you made it to the destination with time to spare. That morning the sky over the Barents Sea was overcast with heavy, grey clouds, increasing your internal melancholia and tiredness. Basically, life was hard. And you still contemplated joining the seals. Probably more often than any sane person should. But then you never really considered yourself rational. Sighing, for the umpteenth time this morning, you sat down on the sofa and relished in the solitude. In moments like this, without the oxygen mask making you feel close to suffocation, or the looming danger of losing your control around certain individuals, you were almost at peace. They never lasted long.

“Morning sunshine,” Ives marched into the room with a grin on his face.

He was one of the people you could tolerate. Still.

“Hi,” you cracked a smile of your own in his direction.

He took off the mask and opened up the laptop, preparing for the meeting. After a few minutes of companionable silence, Ives groaned, stretching his limbs exaggeratedly.

“The bloody bunkbeds are a pain in the arse,” you snickered at the comment.

“My condolences,” offering him a mournful expression, you stood up.

Wandering over to the panoramic windows, you took a moment to stare at a seagull diving on the horizon. Well, technically it was springing up from the sea, but you preferred to imagine the traditional way of things. Just to maintain a functioning brain.

“Not everyone is lucky enough to have a Prince Charming looking out for their comfort you know” the casual remark made you look up at Ives.

Sure as hell, he was grinning smugly, satisfied by how he has managed to catch you off guard. But that was not the most outraging bit…

“Prince Charming?” you repeated with a deepening frown, “Spare me please, I’d rather forget he exists” conversation was ruined.

Prince Charming, my ass. Unless those tended to be lying bastards that never knew what they wanted. Or terrifyingly beautiful idiots that should never be trusted. Well… fuck.

“Good luck with that” Ives patted you on the shoulder.

You knew that despite the nonchalance, he was someone you could count on. For a second, you contemplated asking him to punch Neil next time he shows up. However, all train of thought disappeared when the man himself walked into the room the very next minute. That same neutral smile on his face, blocking off any attempts to read his mood. His gaze slipped over you. A shadow of a frown as though your presence was not a pleasant discovery. Just brilliant.

“Good morning” Neil nodded in your direction.

You could see Ives hesitate as though wondering how much could have been overheard. You found that you did not care. Ever since your blunder in the kitchen, you came to a decision that you need not hold back. Neil never did, after all.

“Morning mate” Ives squeezed his shoulder in a greeting.

Before either of you were forced to initiate small talk, TP marched in, with Wheeler following at his heels. With the whole team on board, you could skip the awkwardness and begin. You took your seat on the side of the table and placed the dossier with plans right in front. That way, you could have an easy escape should it be needed. These days you could never know for sure. The first surprise of the meeting took place when you heard a scrape of the chair on your side, followed by someone sitting down. One look was needed to ascertain that it was the blonde bastard. Fab. You refused to give him any satisfaction of being caught staring and so you focused on the documents, reading the same set of instructions for the hundredth time.

“Do you want coffee?” his question took you by surprise.

Looking up into his blue eyes always felt too startling. Especially considering your history. But that did not seem to matter whenever your gazes met. That same jolt of electricity heightening your senses. Until you would look away again, Neil was everything you could focus on. On the periphery of your attention, you could see Wheeler prepare cups of the beverage in the small kitchenette. Right…

“Yes, please,” perplexed by his helpfulness, you gave him the tiniest of smiles.

In response, Neil only nodded and got up, joining Wheeler at the counter. That was surprising. Somehow you assumed that he would do everything not to interact with you like that. And yet he was willing to get you coffee, knowing full well how dependent on it you were. When Neil sat down again five minutes later and handed you the mug, you muttered:

“Thanks” your hands brushed for a millisecond, causing a minor heart palpitation.

Nothing new. He met your gaze again, smiling lightly. It was in the moments like this that you felt completely at a loss for words. The tenderness and attention felt like the old days, as though nothing happened. But it did. And it made no sense.

“Hope I got it right” breaking the silence, Neil gestured towards the coffee steaming underneath your nose.

He used to know your coffee order well. Unable to deny yourself the curiosity, you took a sip of the beverage under his watchful gaze. Of course, it was perfect, a spark igniting your body with energy. Ignoring the idiocy of the situation, you grinned at Neil over the brim of the mug. Conveying gratitude more than any words could. Judging by the glimmer in his eyes, he understood.

“Attention, please,” Ives’s annoyed voice brought you back to reality “You’ll flirt later,” you blushed furiously at the comment.

Shooting daggers at the squad leader, you focused all of the attention on the dossier again. Yeah…no.

The next hour was spent trying to make sense of the plans you all had been weaving since the intel came. The obvious parts were the facts: a deserted city in the middle of the Siberian steppe, the dead-drop in the cavern underneath the ridge, three ways in, and a lock, that was the crux of it all. The instructions from TP were ominous enough: no guaranteed way out for whoever would open the door. And that fact was the needed spark that day…

“So, temporal pincer” Ives summarized the last few minutes of the discussion, writing the words on the whiteboard “One team normal, the other inverted and they deal with the mercs. A splinter unit goes into the dead-drop and extracts the algorithm before the timer goes off” he added.

That was the obvious bit. You finished the coffee in one swig, feeling Neil’s knee bump into yours under the table. It was like this for the past hour. Sudden touches, making you wonder whether it was all intentional. Another form of elaborate torture. Or whether it was just Neil unable to control his long limbs as per usual.

“Kat is the backstop?” you asked the question, distracting yourself from the mess in your head.

“Yep,” jotting down the note, listening in to the squad leader, “That’s the simple stuff. What we need to figure out is how do we deal with that lock, and what about the splinter unit”

Fun. You skipped through the information again, hoping to find any source of inspiration in the materials.

“What do you mean?” TP asked, and you glanced up at him.

With the arms folded on the table and face frozen in a permanent frown, you could feel the tension radiating from him.

“They shouldn’t leave the field” Ives shrugged upon an inquisitive glare from the boss “It’s safer that way” the cold steel look in his eyes was foreign.

It was a terrifying realization that he was right. If you were to succeed, you had to make sure that it could not happen again. At least not in the linear sense. Looking around the people sat at the table, your heart sank. It could as well be that you were not coming out of this alive. Not all of you. TP had to survive if the story was to follow as it should. But for the rest of you, nothing was guaranteed. Enough to make the anxiety worse.

“Right,” TP’s sombre nod made you focus back on the moment “I don’t think we need to decide on who that will be this early,” he added, his gaze slipping over all of your faces.

Looking at the companions, you could see that everyone else was deep in thought. Mortality was never something you paid much attention to, preferring to stay sane by taking every day as it is and then moving onto the next. When you finished the university and started getting used to the idea that your future will be spent behind the desk of one of the governmental buildings in Whitehall, you stopped giving it much thought. Death would come when it had to, and that was it. But apparently not. Perks of choosing an unusual occupation. Feeling the stress levels elevate, you got hold of the passing thought. The damned lock that has been at the forefront of your mind since the news first came. Maybe now was time to voice the vague plans…

“When it comes to the lock… I’ve been thinking-”

“It’s rather obvious, isn’t it?” Neil’s interruption made you look up at him sharply.

What? You did not like the enigmatic smile gracing his features. As though you have missed something glaringly self-evident, and he was waiting for you to catch up. Impatiently, at that.

“Neil… elaborate please,” TP’s plea was dripping with tiredness.

Relatable.

“I’m the best locksmith out there” he shrugged smugly, ignoring your stare.

You did not like where this was going. Before you could find any words of response, Ives’s dry chuckle pierced the silence.

“Smooth, mate,” he added when Neil turned to stare at him.

“It should be me,” the blonde man pressed, annoyance seeping into his words, “Ives, you know that. Stop looking at me like that” he waved his hand at the squad leader.

The pieces clicked in your head. Fuck. He sounded too sure. As though he has already made up his mind. But…

“The person who opens the lock doesn’t have a guaranteed way out” Wheeler looked weary, as though she was scared about the direction of the conversation.

Exactly. The heart was hammering in your chest, slowly absorbing the reality. Figuring out the implications. No. You could not allow that. Even the mere idea was enough to make you nauseous. It was one thing to wish you did not have to deal with Neil, the other to consider that he would volunteer for something like that.

“So?” the nonchalance in his voice was terrifying.

He was still refusing to meet your gaze, but you persistently kept your eyes fixed on him. Urging him to give in. To be able to check this was actually happening. Because once Neil would lock his eyes with yours, you had a chance of getting to him. Until he said it to your face, you did not want to believe it.

“That could be a one-way trip,” TP voiced your thoughts, eyeing Neil warily.

You could see that he was surprised and concerned. Ever since they were stuck in the container for a week, a comradery has formed. Finally resembling what you were used to from them. But now Neil was willing to destroy it all. One-way trip. The ultimate sacrifice. No.

“Evidently,” another shrug.

That was the needed signal for your brain to kick back into action. To fight. Point out the insanity of the situation.

“Surely there’s a different way of dealing with this. We could send the locksmith before the splinter unit and-” your rant got interrupted with a sudden creak of chair to your right. Impatience.

“Why complicate something simple? I go in and open the door. That’s it” Neil flayed his hands around as though compensating for the tension permeating the room.

Wishing to dissolve it by fake excitement. Not on your watch. Urging your body to stop trembling, you garnered the strength to voice the obvious question. The one everyone seemed to skirt around for the past ten minutes.

“You don’t want to come back?” your voice wavered, betraying the nerves.

That was exactly what Neil needed to finally look you in the eye. With reluctance, he turned to you. When your gazes met, he flinched. Barely perceptible and yet there. Great.

“This isn’t about what I want or don’t want” you could tell Neil was just about keeping himself cool.

This could go either way. You found yourself on the tipping point, tiptoeing the edge. The fall never seemed so inviting. Almost as good as letting yourself drown in his eyes. Anything to ignore the reality.

“As if you knew what you want,” you muttered, aware he will catch on to the implications.

Neil clenched his jaw as his hand gripping the mug tightened. You have hit the mark. Top job. It took him a moment to respond. You could feel the gazes of everyone else fixed on you two. Their breaths were held as though afraid anything could set off the explosion. They were probably right.

“…Maybe you haven’t gotten the memo yet, but this isn’t about us anymore. If the task requires sacrifice, then be it” Neil finished the sentence with a hard look in his eyes.

Us? The emphasis he placed on the word made you blink in shock. On its own accord, your mind drifted back to the conversation in Tallinn. We’re just us. Me and you, was what he said back then. Only now, it was not that simple. Ignoring the ache in your heart, you swallowed hard, trying to find any traces of reason.

“But-” it was not meant to be.

Before you could add another word, Neil took hold of your hand, making you shut up. Shocked, you met his eyes, only to be paralyzed by the harshness of his expression. Your protests were not welcome. He has made up his mind.

“Darling, I appreciate the concern. However-” his tone was dripping with condescension.

The nickname felt like a slap. You tugged at the hand he still had in his grasp, cutting in sharply:

“How very patronizing of you” giving him the fakest of smiles, you added, “I had the illusion that you’re better than this… but well, as with most things I was wrong” a shrug to complete the insult “I still think there must be a way around it. There’s a reason why we got this warning” ending the torture of prolonged eye contact, you glanced around the table.

A silent cry for help. TP met your gaze, rapidly catching on to the desperation pouring out of your eyes. If anyone should get it, it’s him.

“Okay, hold on. Let’s suppose we do it as you say-” the boss interjected, putting all of the charisma into the sentence.

For nothing.

“Maybe the reason was that you need time to get used to the idea. Clearly, you’re the only one who opposes it this strongly” Neil was still looking at you only.

Cold blue eyes and lips twisted into a cruel smirk. That was the same man that fought with you on the highway in Tallinn. Terrible beauty. And yet, you could not look away, drawn by the gravitational pull that kept you tied to his side.

“What are you trying to say?” your voice sounded small.

The confidence was gone. The gloves were off. That was it. The explosion everyone feared. Judging by the way Neil leaned in closer, it was all part of the plan. Calculated and measured for the greatest impact. His knee bumped into your thigh. You froze as his nose brushed over your ear. Too close.

“That you lied to me a few days back. That you still l-” blood froze in your veins as you took in the meaning.

Before he could say the word, you hissed and lurched back.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the curse ripped apart the tense silence.

The pain was unimaginable. You felt close to screaming. Helpless. Alone. Desperate. In love. All for nothing.

“As I said, sometimes feelings need to be put aside. Whatever they might be,” you heard his voice as though from afar.

Enough. Releasing a long exhale, you closed the folder and stood up. That was enough. He did not deserve the sight of your tears.

“Now, let’s assume I go, open the door for the splinter unit, and… What are you doing?” Neil noticed your movement a second too late.

The confusion on his face was almost laughable. Pity.

“What does it look like?” you scoffed, pushing the chair back onto its place “I’ve had enough of this sacrificial bullshit and personal insults” addressing the room at large, you added, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the range”

You noticed Wheeler’s sympathetic nod breaking in through the concern on her face. Ives looked pissed off, and you could not blame him for it. You have made quite the show. Again. TP just glanced at you, utterly perplexed. There was no logical explanation for any of this.

“You can’t just-” attempting protest, Neil took hold of your hand again.

You knew the purpose behind that. If everything else failed, he was well aware that touch was your weakest point. That previously it always worked. Not anymore. You met his eyes, encountering nothing but annoyance and frustration.

“Neil” Wheeler’s warning was a welcomed addition “Let her go,”

That was all he needed. Letting go of your hand, he gave you a final look. Something shifted for a split second. But you found that you did not care. Without a second thought, you bolted out of the room. The very last thing you heard felt like the final blow:

“She’s being ridiculous,” Neil muttered dejectedly.

She. Just that. With shaking hands, you closed the zip lock.

“And you’re stupid. Sit the fuck down,” Ives’s command rung out in the air behind your back.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you ran down the corridor. Fuck.

*** That day you have successfully managed to hide from everyone. Wheeler came to check up on you in the evening to, as she put it, make sure you have not taken the shooting practice a little too seriously. You could only offer her your tear-streaked cheeks and reddened eyes as you assured her that this would be the worst state she was likely to see you in. Was that a lie? Maybe. To put it bluntly, after the morning nightmare of a confab, death sounded like an interesting option. Certainly better than another week of Neil offering to get himself killed just because. You chose 2 am that night to finally emerge from the cabin in the search of food. Without bothering to touch up your bedraggled appearance, you tiptoed down the corridor, taking one extra look at the door of Neil’s room. Why? Fuck knows. The silence was encouraging. However, that confidence was to be your ultimate downfall.

The moment you dealt with the airlock leading to the galley, you knew that you were not alone. Neil was there, chatting to one of the squad members you vaguely remembered from the days spent in inversion. Dominic, or something. Briefly, you considered turning back around and leaving as though you were never even there. But when the men turned, and your eyes met, it was too late. Luck was never on your side.

“Hi,” you gave them both a nod and opened the fridge before either could take a longer look at you.

“Evening” Neil cleared his throat awkwardly.

After a pause, the men picked up their conversation in hushed tones while finishing sandwiches. Mindlessly you stared at the contains of the fridge, hoping to appear occupied. To be forgotten. But to no avail. You could feel someone’s gaze burning into the side of your head. Somehow you knew that if you dared look up, the blue eyes would be there. Ready to analyze you. To find weaknesses and strike when appropriate. You could only hope he would not do it with Dominic present.

Fridge held no answers. You closed it quietly and took hold of the granola bar from the cupboard. Only tea left now… easy. They were still talking. From what you could hear, it had something to do with the inverted weaponry and the training you were all forced to recap before Stalsk. You thanked the gods for the presence of the buffer, as you not so patiently waited for the water to boil. The false sense of security shattered seconds later:

“Thanks, mate. See you in the morning, yeah?” Dominic rinsed the plate quickly and started to put on the mask.

What is worse, Neil was not doing the same. Instead, he was still sitting at the table, smiling at the colleague.

“Yep. Can’t wait,” the fake enthusiasm radiating from him in waves.

But it seemed like only you could see it. Another observation for nothing. Your pulse quickened as you realised that it was only a matter of seconds till you were alone again. And the fucking water was still boiling.

“Goodnight, Y/N” Dominic smiled at you before moving to open the airlock.

“Night night,” your response came out too breathlessly.

Crap. Just like that, he was gone. It was you and Neil, staring at each other like two animals locked up in a cage. He quickly assessed your appearance, taking in the puffed-up eyes, tangled hair, and shaking hands. You wanted to ask him whether he was satisfied with his work. But that would mean admitting how much it hurt. And your pride was in the way. The kettle switched off. Neil’s taxing gaze stopped as his eyes widened.

“Is that-” that is when you realised.

Fuck. When leaving the cabin, you have not changed. That meant you were still wearing the only article of clothing that brought some comfort. Neil’s burgundy sweater. And he most certainly recognized it.

“Neil I-” his name was the only answer as you struggled for words.

Neil stood up and pounced, closing the distance. The malicious look in his eyes was terrifying. And inspiring.

“Why do you have my sweater?” to emphasize the point, he took hold of the material, drawing you near in progress, “I didn’t take you for a thief,” delivered with a cruel smirk.

With Neil that close and acting ridiculously, you realised that above all, you were tired. And had enough of this. Of him.

“I used the opportunity and went into your apartment,” a tight-lipped smile thrown in before he could interject, “Yes, I know, don’t worry, I haven’t stolen anything else,” you added, enjoying the surprise flashing in his eyes.

He forgot about the keys. Or did not think you would use them after everything. And now, when he realised how much you knew, it was hard to accept. That was encouraging. You waited for Neil to bite back, letting yourself stare at him without shame. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes lit up. There we go…

“You know that you’re not making any sense?” he blurted out the question and tugged at the sweater “You just- You’re telling me that it’s all over and yet here you are, wearing my clothes” another tug, bringing you just as close as the last time “I mean that’s one way of confusing me further” he finished on a whisper.

It took you a moment to recover. To realise that once again, you were too close. When that clicked, you took a step back and met Neil’s gaze. Too satisfied. His pupils were darker than usual, and that was worryingly enticing. Focus. Anger was the answer.

“Confusing you?” a sudden idea struck, “Fucking hell, you know what?” another step back, “Just take it, and let’s end this discussion” you started taking the garment over your head.

“What- Why are you...” much to Neil’s shock.

Good. The cold air hit your body as you took off the sweater and threw it in his face. You were eternally grateful to your morning self for putting on that tank top. Not much, but still preventing you from the walk back in only the bra. As Neil scrambled to pick up the garment that fell onto the floor, you added:

“I’ll give you back the keys tomorrow” you met his wide-eyed stare with pleasure, “There’s no need to stare. You’ve seen it before,”

Yet, the way his gaze roamed over your body was fascinating. There was nothing to see there, but still, he seemed transfixed. You took that as your chance to strike.

“Hell, you’ve even had your hand down my pants. Twice” Neil flinched, and you smirked, “Talking about wrong life choices and all that” it was nice to see him hurt.

For once. Even if it was another lie. He looked lost, unable to find a response to something like that.

“I-” a pathetic attempt at god knows what.

You took a final glance at him there. Clutching the cashmere sweater in his hand. Hair falling into his eyes. Shoulder sagged. Defeated. Confused. Finally.

“Goodbye,” you grabbed the mug and left before Neil had a chance of recovery.

The walk back to the room was cold. But probably worth the pain.

*** Sighing with happiness for the first time that day, you closed the door to the cabin and collapsed onto the bed. For the past three hours, you have been occupied with training that Ives made mandatory for all the mission participants, and you were exhausted. The only encouragement was the fact that the squad leader made sure your shift was different from that of Neil. What was even better, he did that without you needing to ask first. Just like that. And you were very grateful. Moments like those last two encounters in the kitchen were best avoided at all costs. Any contact was ideally off the books. Even when it hurt.

With the sweater gone, you had no more things to hold on to. Well, apart from all those memories and the ability to read him like an open book. Utterly useless skills like algebra or functions at this point. You have changed into the comfiest set of sweatpants and a hoodie, hoping to spend the next few hours marinating in your misery. But long before you could even think of the first reason to cry, a knock made you jump up. Who the hell…. Grudgingly, you got up and opened the door.

“Hey…” you did not expect him.

Despite everything, your heart was naive enough to stumble upon the sight of Neil. And his stupid hair. And the repentant look in his eyes. What even.

“What do you want?” you decided to cut the bullshit, meeting his gaze coldly.

The visit was certainly unexpected. As was the fact that he seemed apologetic. Meek, even. Neil shifted nervously before answering:

“Here’s the sweater. You can keep it” he handed you the garment with a tiny smile, “It smells more like you than me now, but…” trailing off, he shrugged.

The implications of that statement were too much to handle. As was the fact that he gave you back the sweater. You gaped at him, speechless. It made no sense. But the silence stretched too long, and Neil looked even more uncomfortable.

“Okay…” you accepted the gift, making sure your hands have not brushed.

“I’m sorry about how I reacted yesterday it wasn’t reasonable,” he added, with that contrite tone you were not used to.

Unreasonable? That was one way of describing what happened the previous night. You did not know whether it was the glaring lack of confidence radiating from him or as something as simple as the fact that you missed him. But you could feel the resolve crumble.

“I’d say nothing you do is reasonable… thanks though” mustering a weak smile, you stepped away from the door, “You can come in if you want,”

Risky. And something Neil did not expect either, judging by the way he hesitated before entering the cabin and closing the door. You sat down on the edge of the bed and observed his awkward movement. A look around the small space. His eyes slipping over the few personal items you had. The sparring gear you have carelessly thrown onto the floor. And the bin full of used tissues. How humiliating. Then he perched on the chair and met your gaze wearily. Without you even needing to ask the question, he answered:

“I guess it surprised me to see that you’re using something of mine after everything” the honesty was strangely comforting.

For the first time since the disastrous mission in Tallinn, you could tell that he was genuine. Open for you to read and interpret however you fancy. That was intriguing. Enjoying the way his eyes roamed over your features, you leaned back on the bed. Relaxed. Sincere. You could try that.

“It surprises me too,” shrugging, you pursed your lips, staring thoughtfully at the window.

You did not have to look at him to imagine the expression on his face. A little concerned, extremely curious.

“How do you mean?” the soft tone made you glance back.

Sure enough, the furrowed eyebrows and sparkling eyes were there. Neil crossed his legs, studying you intently. You could tell that he wanted to know. That this was probably the closest you would ever come to a normal conversation with him. Might as well use it.

“Well, the heart knows best,” offering him a sad smile, you laced your hands in your lap.

Here’s to hoping he won’t turn it on you. But when you dared look up at Neil again, you were surprised to see him stunned by what you revealed. After a beat, he found the words:

“I thought you don’t-”

Of course. Unable to stop the irritation gnawing at your heart, you scoffed, preventing him from saying something so wrong.

“I never said that,” you explained upon his wide-eyed stare, “But that’s beyond the point, isn’t it?” you sighed, hoping to make him drop the topic before it would drift somewhere dangerous “Why are you here?”

You took a longer look at him then. Taking in the denial painted on his face. He wanted to press on, to get you to explain things. Not today. Then, returning your taxing gaze, Neil offered you his wistful smile.

“I suppose I’ve missed you” the sincerity of the statement was terrifying.

You felt a painful pang in your chest, as though the heart itself was awaiting the tragic end to this conversation. Courage. For a second, you wanted to cross that meter of space. To… Yeah, what exactly? One memory of what he said in the kitchen a few nights back was enough to sober up. You had to be careful.

“...right” the next words were a result of annoyance, pure and simple “Are you sure there isn’t anyone better? Because I bet there are at least five people aboard this ship who would give you everything. Without questions asked. Maybe you should talk to them” once you were done with the rant, you faced Neil again.

He was gaping, speechless. It seemed like his sharp wit was missing. That was only good news for you. A myriad of feelings passed in his eyes. You could discern shock, offense, heartbreak, and most surprisingly, something darker. Contradicting the very next thing he said:

“If I was looking for that, I’d never come to you. Because I value you more. But I don’t expect you to believe me” the defeat in Neil’s eyes was confusing.

But not any less than you were at that moment. More than what? A cheap fuck? One could hope so. But at the same time, considering the multitude of instances when he seemed desperate to get too close, it felt like a lie.

“I don’t, so you got something right,” you admitted, hoping to keep the emotions in check.

His blue eyes were fixed on you with intensity, trying to read all that you were not saying. After a minute of excessive staring, you were the first one to give up. The last thing you saw was a smirk forming on Neil’s lips. As though he knew that you were close to breaking. Close to potentially doing something stupid. Jumping up, you paced to the window. Nothing but sea and sky. And the damned birds. But even that was better than being faced with what you have lost. After a few days on board the icebreaker, you got used to the casual outfits he sported. What was worse is that they did nothing to make this any easier. It only proved the theory that Neil looked good in anything. Well, fuck him. Only not literally.

With the silence stretching well past the point of awkwardness, you grasped onto the first passing thought, turning to Neil again:

“You’ve talked about… me with TP, haven’t you?” it was a strange change of topic, but also something that has been on your mind for a while “Because suddenly he seems to trust me and I’m not sure what the fuck happened” throwing in the expletive, you sat down on the floor with your back against the wall.

Neil eyed you curiously. He was strangely quiet, and you wondered why that could be. Whether it meant that for once, he did not know what to say. Or maybe because he already regretted coming to see you. Yeah, probably that second option.

“Yes, I’ve explained a few things on the way to Oslo” the diplomatic tone was mildly annoying.

He leaned back in the chair, making sure to face you in the new dynamic. Only the nervous foot-tapping was a sign that he did not like the direction of the conversation. Interesting.

“Such as?” pressing on, you took a moment to observe him.

These days he gave up on styling the hair as the wind outside would always blow it in his eyes. That was rather adorable. He unzipped the pullover, shifting in the seat. Tension spilling out in weaves as Neil waved his hand dismissively.

“It doesn’t really matter,” another remorseful smile.

So, he must have said much more than just the basics. Could he have admitted to things even you were not allowed to know?

“Well, you must’ve said some crucial bits if he’s now so eager to take my side” arching your eyebrow, you met his gaze purposefully.

Hoping he will catch on. Just like the matter of whatever it was between you, the battle plans were a clear no-go in this conversation. But that did not mean you could not hint at it. He had to understand that you were not going to give in so easily. That his suicidal mission was not getting a green light from you. The bait worked. Kind of.

“I said things that you and I should probably explain to each other one day” Neil’s grin did not reach his eyes.

Oh. He must have read the shock from your face, for his eyes glimmered dangerously as he relaxed on the chair. Your brain froze. Things? As in what? You both did and did not want to ask. Instead, you chose to attack.

“We won’t have time if you sacrifice yourself” simply put with a merciless stare.

Neil frowned, not expecting that kind of a dig. Before you could taste the satisfaction, his weary expression caught you off guard. Could that really hurt him? The cold of the wall was digging into your back.

“Let’s leave that for the meeting tomorrow,” a silent plea in the blue eyes “I don’t want to argue,”

He meant it. The tiredness etched onto his face told you as much. You were used to seeing the same kind of exhaustion every morning in the mirror. You could let him off.

“Okay…” a solemn nod before you got up and picked up the pacing again.

It was a strange feeling to be with him alone and yet not close. You realised that this was likely the first time since the early days when you were together somewhere private and were not even touching. It felt wrong.

“How did you like my place?” Neil’s question was like a much-needed grounding.

Swallowing down the discomfort, you turned back to him. The innocence was just a façade that he has put on for your sake. He expected an answer, and you did not know where to start. And then… the way his hair caught rays of sunlight was an inspiration.

“It was… enlightening,” you relished in the curiosity reflected at you, “For starters, I never realised that this is all fake” crossing the space in one leap, you ran your fingers through his hair.

Just like the old times. Only then, Neil would not shudder upon the initial contact. It took him a longer moment to recover. You smirked seeing his stunned face and resumed the movement, separating the strands slowly. You had no clue why this was the fact you latched onto. Blonde or not, he was a sight. But the idea that he dyed his hair would not leave your mind like the worst of brain worms.

“Ah, you’ve seen the photos” when he finally found the words again, his voice was hoarse.

As though whatever you were doing had some sort of an effect. A spark of confidence. You tugged at a strand sharply, the gasp making you bite your lip hard. A dangerous game. The words you have been biting back begun to spill from your mouth:

“It fascinates me because you act oh so confident all the time, and yet you’re pretending you’re someone you’re not” glancing down, you noticed the closed eyes and pursed lips.

It was definitely working. Whatever you even wanted to achieve. It was nice to hold power for once. To call him out on the bullshit you had to deal with every day.

“That’s just hair,” Neil protested weakly, grabbing onto your free hand and encircling the wrist.

Unable to stop the emotions bubbling under the surface, you scoffed:

“It really isn’t. I mean, why? It’s not like you have to scrape for attention” his eyes met yours with defiance, “Unless you’re compensating for something. In which case, that’s just ridiculous” the hit came with a visible flinch from Neil “And ever so manly” you perfected the punchline with a final tug on his golden strands.

That turned out to be a step too far. Before you could sense a change in the mood, Neil used the hold over your hand to bring you down. More accurately, to make you sit in his lap. Your brain caught up too late. Suddenly he was too close, with hands settling on your hips, securing you in place. Fuck. You opened your eyes, cursing the moment of weakness. Neil was staring right back, his eyes unreadable and dark. You messed up.

“What are you doing?” too breathless.

He caught onto that, rubbing circles onto your thigh, focused on you. It would be easy to get up and throw him out, ending this madness. But you found that you did not want to.

“I’m not sure. Say a word, and I’ll leave. But...” he trailed off, searching your eyes for something.

A protest, most likely. A clear-cut rejection. When he found nothing, he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours. So close. Slowly your willpower was waning. You placed your palm over his heart to feel the warmth.

“Neil, why...” unable to find the words, you stared at him with questions multiplying in your head.

What was this? Was it why he came? And why, despite the hurt he inflicted, you could not tell him to stop?

“Because you’re here. It’s all I need to start feeling like...” another open-ended response.

Adding on to the confusion. His heart was beating fast, breaths coming out shallow. With fingers still tangled in his hair, you urged him to keep eye contact. That was the only chance of telling whether he was honest.

“Like what? Like you could want me?” the words were hard to say out loud.

For a moment, you felt like this was Tallinn all over again. Like you were losing sanity just for the sake of getting something from him. The ever-present yearning getting the best of you. The only difference was that this time Neil was the desperate one. His hands roamed over your hips and thighs, causing worrying jolts of electricity. It shouldn’t be that easy.

“You know that I do,” a whisper, eyes overfilled with determination.

Did you? Now – maybe. Any other day – hell knows.

“Maybe once I did. But recently... I don’t think you know what you want. You’re just...” you offered him the honesty, absentmindedly running your fingertips over his temple.

Exploring all that was familiar yet missed so much. The creases on his forehead deepened.

“What?” Neil leaned in once again, nuzzling the skin on your neck.

The shaky exhale felt like a defeat. It was increasingly hard to think, let alone give him coherent answers.

“You’re not making any sense” that had to do.

Only it was whispered breathlessly. Not convincing.

“Maybe this will make sense...”

Before you could contemplate the meaning of his words, Neil kissed your neck, drawing out a shudder. One of his hands wandered underneath the hoodie. His fingers ghosted the skin. You have not realised how much you’ve missed it until you got it. As he got braver in his ministrations, teeth grazing over your pulse point, hands stroking your bare back, you felt intoxicated. Unable to do anything but pull him closer and let your hands venture underneath his black t-shirt. It made no sense. But as soon as a reasonable thought would come up, Neil would do something to make you forget. It could be a kiss right under your ear or fingers getting too close to your sports bra. Christ. No logic, just Neil being the sole reason for insanity. The heat travelling up your veins was getting too evident to be ignored. As he gave you a particularly forceful mark by sucking on the skin in the crook of your neck, you could not hold back a moan. It pierced the silence accompanied only by your shallow breaths. Neil froze as though he was not expecting a reaction that strong. His breath causing goosebumps all along your neck. For a second, you wanted to pull him even closer, to give permission to take everything he desires. Even without a promise that it would mean something to him. He raised his head, meeting your wild gaze with the darkened pupils of his own. The proximity was suffocating. Unable to make sense of your thoughts, you leaned in, hoping to get lost in a kiss. To buy some time before you would have to make up your mind. That is when Neil did something unexpected – he pulled back, with a strangely remorseful look in his eyes. Fuck. Alarm bells started ringing out in your head, harshly reminding you about the reality of the situation. As though nothing happened, Neil’s hands went back to the meticulous caress of your upper body. But you could not ignore the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach. What if this wouldn’t mean a thing? Suddenly it seemed like the worst mistake you could make. The previous frenzy was quickly replaced with dread. Not meant to be. You retracted your hands from underneath Neil’s shirt and pushed him back. It took all the strength available to deliver the next sentence with necessary firmness:

“I think you should leave,” you hoped to hide the pain behind the schooled features.

If he was surprised, he was very good at pretending. His eyes searched yours for a beat, and then he let go of you. His touch was already missed.

“If that’s what you want,” Neil’s voice revealed remains of passion as he nonchalantly smoothed the hair you have tangled.

That was the cue to get up. With cheeks burning, you turned away from him, doing your best to cool off and keep the scraps of dignity you had still left. Before you could risk a dangerous spiral, Neil’s voice brought you back to the moment:

“Too close, wasn’t it?” you frowned at the casual tone.

He was zipping up the pullover, staring at you with startling composure. As though the past minutes have not happened. As though he has not marked you as his for the umpteenth time. It was terrifying.

“What?” you gaped, trying to collect the thoughts and keep calm.

“We got too close. And you’re worried because for a moment you wanted more than you should” Neil shrugged upon your quiet gasp.

He could read you too well.

“Don’t do that,” a pathetic attempt at a plea.

But it must have worked for his expression softened. A small smile split his face as Neil pressed the door handle:

“Just thought you should know that I don’t mind. I don’t have much left to lose,” a parting remark, and then he was gone.

You covered your face with your hands, falling onto the knees when the remains of strength gave out. What a fucking mess.

*** What you did not expect to be the hardest feat of all before the meeting the next morning was making sure that all the bruises were covered up. You did not need to add questions and human curiosity to the list of your problems. After all, it would have been obvious to anyone with a brain. You fucked up, and Neil was the reason why and how that happened. As usual. That was best avoided since everyone on your war council knew enough already when it came to your relationship. Or whatever the fuck it was.

As you walked in, everyone else was already on the bridge, spreading the materials and preparing the whiteboard. Wheeler gave you a welcoming smile which at that moment was worth more than it should. Any expression of kindness was at a premium. You sat down, and before you could process much of what was going on, a mug of coffee appeared before your eyes. Just so. A second later, Neil took the seat next to you without acknowledging your existence. Cool. Perplexed, you looked around the room, locking eyes with TP. He shrugged as though exactly aware of your issues yet unable to help. That much was enough to make you feel a tiny bit better. After a beat, the boss spoke up:

“Before we begin… Y/N?” his question interrupted the first experimental sip of the coffee.

Perfect. Again.

“Yes?” you ignored the annoying spike of anxiety upon being the centre of attention.

“Is Mahir going back to meet Kat in Vietnam on the 14th?”

Ah, that. The little side quest that you have been given ages ago with close to no information towards its purpose. Thankfully, Mahir cooperated. No questions were asked as you arranged for him to invert in London and travel to Vietnam to be Kat’s aide. That kind of smooth operation was a welcomed change.

“Yep, as ordered,” you offered the dark-eyed man a small smile, “Turns out I am capable of not fucking up some things…” that addition was a product of spite.

It was rewarding to see Ives and Wheeler crack a grin at your comment. It made you feel less alienated, as though it was only the man on your right that had issues. And he might as well be ignored. Neil was being helpful in his silence too, moodily staring at the papers in front, refusing to lay his eyes on you. It was painful, especially considering the previous day, but it also meant you felt more at ease.

“It would be great if we could agree upon a few things finally,” TP interrupted the silence, looking at you all expectantly.

“Can’t promise you that, chief” you shrugged, aware of the way Neil shifted in his seat.

His knee bumped into your leg, starting the irritating dance you thought you had moved past. But, supposedly, laying his hands all over your body yesterday was not enough for him.

“I know. But let’s try” you focused all the attention back on the boss “Splinter unit,” the phrase fell between you all like a death sentence “Who and how?”

“The tunnel” you picked up the map and showed it to him, “That’s what the intel said” taking the sip of coffee, you added, “As towards who…”

One of the sleepless nights has been spent wondering whether you should not volunteer for that. The logic was that there was a reason why TP chose you as his link with everyone else. It meant his future version trusted you enough. But it also meant you were important. In those hopeless moments, it felt like maybe that was the purpose. And if it would mean no coming back? So be it. Death for the means of saving the world did not sound half that bad. Before you could express the thoughts, TP spoke up again:

“It should be me” his voice was emotionless.

“Why-” Neil’s voice rang out in the room.

You glanced at him, noticing the tension and worry radiating from him. It was a strange situation; everyone could see that. You all knew that TP had to survive. After all, how could you be at this point if he did not? He had to set up Tenet, hire Neil, Ives and everyone else, prepare the ground for the operation to unfold just like this. But then, considering everything you have been told about temporal paradoxes… could it be that simple? Or was Neil wrong, and what’s happened could also unhappen, so to speak? Too much. Your head began to pound.

“I’m the protagonist of this whole operation. The reason why you’re all here” that was convincing.

And in any other situation, you would have laughed at the prophetic overtone of the statement. But now other emotions were more prominent…

“Mmmm, I’m here because of him,” you retorted, pointedly staring at Neil,

“Only, he doesn’t care” that is when the man turned to look at you for the first time that morning.

Irritated. Fed up with your bullshit. Lips pressed into a thin line. Eyes glimmering dangerously. Nothing new.

“What are you-” the sharp edge to his voice was satisfying.

Any kind of reaction meant you succeeded at pissing him off. Somehow back then, it was the best thing that could happen.

“Just being salty. Don’t mind me” you shrugged, making sure to pat his shoulder quickly.

Another tiny stab. Neil’s eyes flicked to your hand in a flash and then back to meet your eyes. You could only give him a deliberate smirk.

“Anyways… The splinter unit will be two people” Ives brought back the topic with palpable annoyance, “I’ve got an obvious choice on my mind, but I’ll discuss that later with some of you” the definitive tone would have made anyone shut up.

Not you though. Not when there was nothing to lose, and you decided that you might as well have fun with this mess.

“Why so mysterious, huh?” another quip, all to make Ives look up at you with surprise.

He rolled his eyes, showing you exactly what he thought of your new approach to things.

“We’ve got a more pressing topic to deal with” nothing to play with there.

What a shame. Mouthing an apology at the squad leader, you could feel the tension surge. The more trivial topics have been already mentioned and moved past. Now it was the time for big guns. For another clash of the titans.

“Precisely,” Neil jumped at the chance and spoke “The elephant in the room is rather obvious” his eyes scanned the space with a predatory gleam, settling on you, “I mean, look at her… she’s barely staying quiet,” a mocking smirk to compliment the statement.

Presumptuous fuck. Despite the anger reaching a boiling point in your veins, you refused to give him the satisfaction. To show how much it hurt.

“Her?” arching your eyebrow, you met his gaze defiantly “Neil, that’s a low blow. Even for you” a passing flinch on his face giving the power to keep going “But yes, I’d love to know whether you’ve changed your mind regarding some important matters” you addressed the room at large, searching for support.

That concerned look Wheeler shot you was helpful. As was the way TP hunched in the chair, burdened with terrifying possibilities of Neil’s stubbornness. Maybe you won’t have to be alone in this.

“I’m going in,” the blonde man shrugged nonchalantly, staring you down, “The only thing you can do is help us plan how to make it work,”

The strategy was to alienate you. Make it sound like you were the only one protesting against his idiotic plan. Well, not on your watch. Now was the time to put all those sleepless nights to use.

“How to make what work? Your suicide?” you scoffed, taking pleasure in how he frowned at the word, “If you let me speak for once, I’ve got an idea” finishing the lukewarm coffee, you gathered needed strength.

“Go ahead, sunshine,” a sarcastic half-smile, begging to be wiped off his face with a slap.

Maybe another time.

“What if two people went first to take care of the lock?” your voice cut through the tension permeating the room, “You rarely send anyone out without a cover. Because it’s unreasonable. So why this time it should be different?” that was logical.

The most sensible of plans you could come up with. Two on the splinter unit; two to deal with the lock. More likely to find an exit or, simply, survive whatever was waiting by the dead-drop. You also had ideas when it came to who should accompany Neil. But those were best kept a secret.

“Because losing two is worse than one. Even you can do the maths” the unnecessary dig made you roll your eyes.

He was ridiculous. In moments like this, you wished you had never fallen for him. But there was no point in crying over the spilt milk.

“Two have greater chances of survival,” you counterattacked, stating the obvious.

The truth he was so gladly ignoring for his purposes.

“You’ve got a point,” Wheeler chimed in, making you both turn to her.

“Thanks,” you offered the brightest grin you could muster and searched for more backing on the faces of the fellow companions.

Before you could analyse the grave expressions on TP and Ives’s faces, Neil spoke up again:

“You’re also rather emotional…” another insult.

Fuck. It was getting increasingly hard to stay calm. But that was the only thing to do. Another scene before the whole team was certainly not desired. You took a deep breath, fighting to maintain composure.

“Neil, stop” Ives was your saviour of the hour, interrupting with the non-bullshit attitude, “I think this idea is worth going over. It’s not like we’ve got anything better,”

You vowed to send Ives a bouquet of roses if you were still alive after all this. Or better, take him out to a pub. Nothing was settled upon during that meeting. The chaos of you all trying to convince Neil to listen to your arguments was only interrupted with him throwing more offences at you. Apart from emotional, you learned you were also delusional. And a potential loose cannon that was best kept away from making crucial decisions. You debated putting all of those on your CV and asking him to provide the references. After all, Neil was the expert when it came to your skillset. After half hour of barely held-together discussion, Ives told you all to calm down and fuck off for the time being. At least until you could decide on something without jumping to your throats. You doubted that was even possible. You were resolved to drive your plan forward. And so was Neil.

When the meeting was over, you were the first one to leave, hoping to slip out before anyone could stop you. You made it as far as the corridor leading to the bridge when you felt someone grab your arm, making you turn around. Of course. Neil’s steel-blue eyes were staring at you coldly. He was getting ready to attack, and you did not want to let him. Before either of you could break the silence, someone stopped in the corridor, and the familiar voice spoke:

“You two should fuck each other already,” you scowled at Ives’s choice of words, “Or break-up. I don’t care, only don’t do this again” he gave you a long taxing look, with annoyance brewing underneath.

You could not blame him. Only that kind of comment was too much right now. With cheeks burning, you desperately searched for words. Neil found them for you:

“We’re not together” dead simple with a tinge of anger to it.

You took a look at Neil, noticing the frown set on his face. And the fact that he was still holding on to you. Fingers wrapped around your bicep, just enough force to make it seem questionable.

“Could’ve fooled me” the squad leader shrugged and walked off before either of you could react.

Great start. Yanking your arm free, you asked:

“What do you want?” you made sure to make him hear the irritation.

That was against the plan, and you doubted your ability to survive yet another confrontation. From the look in his eyes, you could also guess where this was going.

“I know what you’re doing. All I’ve got to say is don’t,” Neil stared you down, keen on intimidation, “I won’t let it happen” no room for discussion there.

Well, maybe with any other idiot. You knew it would come to it. The moment when you would have to admit that your plan involved going with Neil. And there would be no debate about it. It had to be you. Reasons? Inexplicable.

“Tough luck because I’m not letting you get killed,” you counterattacked, meeting his intense gaze without reluctance, “Or go in there alone,” a pointed emphasis, to show him you meant it.

You felt like you could win this one. Maybe even walk away without the tears in your eyes. Just this once. But then Neil did what he does best – changed the topic.

“If this is about what happened-” he reached out to you again, fingers curling around your wrist.

There we go. You were surprised it took him that long to mention the previous afternoon. His touch and the bruises were hard to forget, but so was the lack of affection in his eyes. As though you were just another hook-up. Someone to seduce, get pleasure from, and then leave without a word of explanation. Nothing more. You deserved better than this. With heart hammering in your chest, you responded:

“Not everything is about you trying to fuck me, Neil,” it was his turn to scowl, as though the words have hurt him.

It was only fair.

“Who said-” his grip on your wrist tightened, drawing you closer.

But that alone was not enough to distract you from the denial he tried to pass as the truth.

“Please,” you gave him a pointed look, “That was a mistake, and it’s best treated like one” swallowing down the discomfort, you let the statement fall between you.

You wanted nothing but to forget about it. Brush it under the carpet. The marks were enough of a punishment for a moment of weakness. Neil seemed to consider something quickly, weighting the options, before he nodded:

“Of course,” the formality had the potential to drive you mad, “I’m glad we seem to agree on something,”

For a second, you contemplated leaving the scene. You knew he would not follow, too caught up in the grudges and apprehensions to stop you from escaping. But you wanted to have the last word. To put to use the ability to see right through his act. Neil was staring at you with eyes narrowed, trying to anticipate the very next move. You were sure to surprise him.

“Think I have figured it out though,” he arched his eyebrow in a silent question “Why you’re so keen on doing something that stupid” his face fell, you took a step forward “It’s that hero complex, hidden under honourable acts and philosophical bullshit” pulling your hand out of his hold, you advanced to intimidate, “You think you’re past redemption. That you don’t deserve it. But you can’t give up until you save everybody else. That’s just who you are” the sheer panic in his eyes was fascinating “Only there’s me. An obstruction” Neil swallowed hard as you laid your hand on his shoulder; nearly there, “And you might not love me, but it still doesn’t mean I can let you do it” you gave him a final sad smile, brushing away a stray hair from his pullover.

Yours, judging by the length and colour. A quirk of fate. You were too busy contemplating the fact to notice a shift in his eyes. Denial. Disbelief. Darkness.

“My god… you’re so stupid” the sharp edge to his voice was dripping with venom, “How can you not see it?” Neil was looking at you as though you were an idiot.

Wow. Fighting the urge to breakdown, you took a deep breath. You should have known he had not had enough of hurting you. Always naïve.

“… thanks,” you chuckled dryly, holding on to the remains of anger in your system, “First ‘emotional and delusional’. Now this… you’re expanding your vocabulary” his silence was deafening, “I wonder what will be next… expletives?” the next statement came from the depths of your heart “It would be much easier to just admit that you hate me, and we could be done with this”

That childlike belief in the existence of love wanted him to say no. To deny that he could ever despise you in any way. But the innocence had to be buried if you were to survive.

“I’ll consider that” the cold calculation in Neil’s eyes was terrifying. It was truly over. Even if your heart felt like it was being ripped out. The edges of your vision were blurring, eyes burning with tears begging to be released. Not yet.

“Fab,” you brushed away the strand that was falling into his eyes, “As a final note… I admit that the worst mistake I have ever made was allowing myself to believe you’re worth it”

It was not exactly the truth. But the tiniest moment of passing shock in his eyes was a good enough response. For a second, Neil was speechless, stunned by your harsh words and the way you caressed his face. One last guilty pleasure.

“I’m glad you’re acknowledging it” his face split in an attempt at a smile.

It was broken. Dishonest. There was something fascinating in him at that very moment. The set jaw, eyes cold as ice; yours, but not at all. The beautiful and damned. Gently, you ran your fingers over his stubble, hoping to memorise his face in every way possible. The intensity of his gaze was beginning to drive you insane, offering eternal suffering if you were to make the smallest mistake. Never again.

“The cruelty looks good on you” you zipped up his pullover in one smooth motion and turned away.

The searing pain in your chest was the needed punchline.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #neil x reader #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part I/VII)

"sleepless nights"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: grief, nightmares, implicit PTSD

A/N: this is kind of... Fluffy(?) Somehow lmao. This story is based off this convo and these headcanons. If you wanna be tagged in the next parts tell me, and enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The first night I thought I was hallucinating; it wouldn't be the first time since the Battle that I had imagined someone was wandering around the flat.

The second night I was dubious.

The third night I was completely sure George was, in fact, staying awake.

So, when, during the fourth night, I heard him pass by my door for the nth time in two hours, I left the comfort of my soft blankets and stepped towards the door.

"What on earth are you doing?" George, who was already walking away in the living room's direction, jumped at my whispering.

He took a hand to his chest, shut his eyes and breathed deeply. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack, woman?" He leaned against the wall, his eyes still closed.

"Alright, sorry." I apologised. We kept whispering as if someone was sleeping in our house. "It's just— are you getting any sleep?"

His brown eyes finally opened, and as he stared into mines, I knew he, despite wanting to do so, couldn't find the strength to lie.

"I can't go near my room." He confessed, one of his hands running through his locks as his eyes welled up. "I— I tried, I just—" another deep breath, this one shaky.

I reached out to him from my door frame. The hallway wasn't that large, anyway; he only needed to slightly extend his arm and he would be able to touch my fingertips.

George looked at my palm hesitant, as if he didn't dare to hold it. "C'mon, I can't have you haunting our home for another night." With a resigned sigh, he finally took my hand, and I swiftly tugged him towards me, leading him into my room and closing the door behind us.

My dorm had a different atmosphere, and George felt it right away. Maybe it was because the room was certainly not the twins' making, or maybe because it was the furthest from Fred's, but in my room the air was less oppressive; it somehow felt comforting and homely.

I sat George down on the edge of my bed and took a proper look at him; his eyes were puffy and his nose red, but he was livid. I let my hand travel to his cheek, and he unconsciously leaned on it.

"I'm gonna go for a glass of water." I informed him, my fingertips wiping a tear that had spilled and was running down his face. "And I'll get your bags on my way."

"You don't have to." He muttered.

"Yeah, I have to, because you're not sleeping on this." I tugged on his overused shirt's collar. "Do me a favor; get a blanket from under the bed and place it on the divan." He nodded and complied, getting up as soon as I left the room.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I rubbed my eyes with my index finger and thumb whilst standing up and doing as Y/n had asked me to.

On the process of covering the divan with one of her soft, warm blankets, I realized there was no way on earth I would fit there.

"Why the puzzled look?" Y/n's voice breaking the silence so abruptly made me lost my train of thoughts. "Didn't mean to scare you." She apologised, handing me the promised —and very needed— glass of water, and throwing my bags over her bed. "You're not sleeping there." She clarified, motioning at the divan.

A frown formed on my face. "I'm not taking your bed."

"Yes, you are." Just as I was about to open my mouth and complain, she warned me, "Don't you argue with me, Weasley. We're both too tired for this."

"Alright, you win." I huffed, knowing it would be useless to try and talk some sense into her, and, in all honesty, I craved to lie down on a bed, and Y/n's looked so comfy and welcoming.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to bed?"

She walked to me tugging my hand so I was facing her instead of her mattress. "You're a mess." The girl mumbled under her breath, unbuttoning my shirt before I knew what was happening. "Off, now."

When she stepped away to reach into my bag, I kept doing what she had started until the piece of clothing was open. Y/n placed my pyjamas in front of me and quickly turned her back to my body before I could even remove my shirt.

"I really don't know why you keep doing that" the words were coming out of my mouth somehow more light-hearted, almost amused. "You've ran into me naked several times." I pointed out, completely undressed and reaching for my nightwear.

Y/n snorted. "That doesn't make it any less awkward." The ghost of a grin appeared on my face and I had to refrain myself from teasing her in any way. "Done?" I responded affirmatively un response and she turned around and removed my dirty clothes from her bed.

We both climbed into our respective resting places and threw our blankets over us before turning off the light.

"Y/n?" She gave me a sleepy hum, prompting me to speak. "Thank you." She mumbled something I didn't quite understand; my eyes closed surprisingly fast, and I fell asleep.

Something I was quickly regretting.

As comfortable as Y/n's bed was, and as much at ease as the atmosphere in her room had left me, the nightmares still haunted my dreams.

I jumped up with a yell I didn't know that had escaped my lips, sweating and panting, only to find Y/n close to the same state, somehow a little bit more calmed. We locked eyes, gleaming at the moonlight due to the not yet spilled tears.

I took a deep, ragged breath, and rubbed my face with both hands; I wasn't crying, I was just exhausted.

The weight on the bed shifted before Y/n's arms pulled me into a side hug; I leaned on her, throwing my own arm around her waist to pull her even closer. We fell over the bed like that, and didn't dare to move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up again. This time, though, no pants or tears were involved; I was calm and rested, something not very usual anymore.

After a moment, I realized the reason why I had woken up was probably the pain on the back of my neck. I blinked a couple of times in an attempt to shake the drowsiness off me before trying to switch my posture to one more comfortable.

I was then startled by a sleepy grunt that left Y/n's lips; I remembered then that we had somehow managed to fall asleep in each other's arms in the most uncomfortable position ever.

I managed to move her with me, without waking her up —and thank Godric for that, because the sight of her snuggled up to my side with our legs tangled and her hand on my chest was angelic.

A sigh escaped my lips when, due to the rays of sunshine that started to sneak into the room, she buried her face in the crook of my neck, hear breath fanning over my skin and sending chills down my spine.

Staring at the room's ceiling, I weighed my options; on the one hand, I could lay with Y/n a bit more and try to go back to sleep, but I risked falling into another nightmare; on the other hand, I could get up and go have a very needed shower, but I would have to leave the comfort of her arms and her room, and venture into our very own cemetery.

I went for the second option; I did crave a shower, and we couldn't let what once was the most cheerful flat in the Diagon Alley be covered by the darkness of grief forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

I was shocked —in a good way, of course— when, the next time my eyes fluttered open was not due to a nightmare, but to the bright, warm sunlight inundating the room.

George was nowhere to be seen, and I wondered if last night had been a dream. I dismissed that idea as soon as I propped myself up on my forearms, seeing his bags near the bed and his dirty clothes laying on the carpet.

The door creaked, announcing the ginger's arrival even before he hesitantly entered the room. "Morning." He offered me a small smile.

"Morning." I replied, mimicking his expression. "How long have you been up?"

"For about..." he checked the clock in my room, leaning against the door frame. "Half an hour. Just had a shower and I was gonna make some breakfast."

My smile grew a little wider at his newly refreshed attitude. "In high spirits, are we?"

He clicked his tongue, tilting his head to the side. "Turns out that getting some sleep does wonders."

"Indeed." I agreed, stretching before standing up and walking to him. "C'mon, I'll help you with that breakfast."

"I can do it myself." He assured me, walking right behind me in the kitchen's direction.

"Last time you tried to cook, you set fire to the table."

He groaned, grabbing a knife to slice the bread he had left on the counter. "You won't let me live that down ever, will you?" I shook my head no, turning on the fire before grabbing a pan. "I hate you."

"Liar." I placed my hand above the pan to check the heat before requesting, "Pass me the slices."

"I was gonna make you breakfast," he complied, nonetheless. "Not the other way around."

"Are you complaining?" I quirked an eyebrow at George, making him roll his eyes at me and turn to the cabinets consequently to reach for the mugs. "I was thinking—"

"You? Thinking?" Snort. "The world's ending." He stated dramatically, preparing the coffee.

"Twit." I flipped the nearly ready toasts before resuming my sentence. "I was thinking that we should reopen the shop." George stayed silent, leaning against the counter by my side. "I think it would... Help." I stopped again, carefully picking my words. "Getting the business running... I think— we can't— we need to do something, to stay occupied." I looked at him, awaiting for an answer, or at least a glance, but his eyes were fixed on his slippers. "I don't mean right now," he tilted his chin up to stare at the opposite wall, and then his head spun to me. "but I—"

"Y/n!" His eyes went wide and he swiftly pulled me away from the pan, tossing the burning bread into the sink. "Merlin's beard." I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing in defeat. "Trying to outmatch my kitchen pyromania?" George would have successfully lightened up the mood if I wasn't on the brink of a mental breakdown.

Fred had always been the one to cook. George wasn't even allowed in the kitchen for obvious reasons, and I myself had the attention span of a fruit fly.

"Oi..." George pulled me to his chest and my arms instantly wrapped around his middle. "What about we get dressed," he began, stroking my hair. "And we go have breakfast at The Leaky Cauldron?" I nodded against him, and he squeezed me tight before slowly pulling away. "We can start restocking when we come back, yeah?" I nodded again, catching a tear with the back of my sleeve before it could run down my cheek. "Then let's go." This time it was him who stretched his arm, offering me his hand, which I instantly took.

As we made our way back to my room, it dawned on me this would be one hell of a ride.

"Wait! The coffee!" I tugged him back to the kitchen.

"Shit!" We both jogged back in, rapidly putting away the coffee pot.

"I think we shouldn't cook." I stated. "At all."

"Agreed." He breathed out.

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keyboardink · 3 years

Text

“infuriating” [v]

[i] [ii] [iii] [iv] [v] [vi] [vii]

Kairi hates Loba’s guts, but that doesn’t stop them from flirting (or fucking).

pairing: kairi “valkyrie” imahara x loba andrade / media: apex legends

genre: SMUT!!, enemies to lovers / word count: 1.3k / rating: mature / warnings: graphic depictions of sex, pet names, swearing, hate sex

a/n: sorry this part is a bit late, i was on vacation with my s/o and didn’t have much time to write. hopefully this is worth the wait!

Kairi opened her eyes to warm-white sunlight flooding Loba's grand bedroom through the tall windows. The velvet curtains were still pulled open from before they had entered the room last night. Shit, she thought, really hope she doesn't have any close neighbors.

The puffy comforter had been abandoned and tightly tucked on the left side of the bed, leaving Kairi the space to stretch out as much as she possibly could. The distant whistling of a kettle whispered its way through the space beneath the doorframe. Kairi wasn't the type to stay after a one-night-stand, but the empty bed and the sounds resonating from the lower level signaled that she was too late to sneak out before her fling woke up.

Although the softness of Loba's bed was enticing, she stood up, the cold air causing goosebumps to spread over her bare skin. She slid on her full outfit from the night before and started down the stairs, hoping that whatever room Loba was in downstairs wouldn't be in view of the front door.

"You're not leaving, are you?"

Damn. Wishful thinking.

Kairi turned around to see Loba, a cup of tea in hand, leaning against the doorway next to the staircase she had just walked down. She was in a white cotton bralette with lace-lined edges and matching pajama shorts that looked more like underwear. Her hair curled around her shoulders and arms, framing her face with intricate spirals. With the sunshine illuminating her from behind, she looked almost angelic. Kairi had to stop herself from staring.

"What? Do you want a goodbye kiss or something?"

"Well, if you're offering..." Loba smiled. She shifted her weight on her feet and caused her shorts to ride up even further, which Kairi hadn't thought was possible with how small they already seemed. An image from the night prior flashed through her head - her nails digging into her thighs, almost leaving bruises from how tight she had to grip them to stop her from moving too much. She shook her head, shaking the thought out of her mind.

"I wasn't."

"Oh, come on. At least let me make you some breakfast as a thank you for the delightful time."

Loba turned, retreating to the stove. Omelettes and bacon sizzled on pans, decorated in herbs and vegetables, looking decadent enough to be in an advertisement. They were already almost done; she had made enough for both of them, assuming that the one-night-stand would turn into a morning-after-buffet. Kairi's stomach growled at the overwhelming aroma.

"So," Loba said, shuffling the food onto porcelain plates, "where were you heading off to?" She handed a fork and a full plate to Kairi, whose mouth began to water.

"What do you mean?" She asked, taking a bite. The omelette tasted divine, containing a perfect balance of ingredients that seemed to melt together effortlessly. If this was what each morning would provide, maybe she'd make this a regular fling.

"You seemed to be in quite a rush." Loba's full lips closed around her fork, drawing Kairi's attention and causing more memories to flutter through her mind. The way her mouth parted as she gasped, how soft her kisses had felt against her thighs. "Or did you just want to avoid me?" Loba asked pointedly, snapping her out of her daze. She then took another bite, waiting for a response.

"I..." Kairi suddenly hesitated, choked. All of her confidence from the night before had vanished. She was at her mercy, despite how much she hated it. She couldn't confess that she had tried to sneak past her, couldn't admit how she felt fury towards herself for letting herself get caught in Loba's elegant traps, for being lured in by her sultry voice, her lustful eyes.

"Little bird," Loba began, placing her plate on the counter. She took a step towards Kairi, reaching her hand out to fix her tousled hair with dainty touches. Her fingers followed down her jaw, stopping at her chin. She hooked a finger underneath it, forcing Kairi to look up at her. The pilot, with a mouth still full of food, swallowed quickly and stumbled in putting her plate down. Their eyes met, tension multiplying in the small distance between their faces. "Why do you hate me so much?"

Kairi was breathless. She felt her knees tremble beneath her, nearly giving out completely. There were a million answers she could give.

Loba chuckled at her silence. She took a step forward, causing Kairi to back up against the counter behind her. "Or am I mistaken?" She leaned in, her lips brushing against Kairi's ear. "Are you actually infatuated with me?"

Kairi scoffed. "As if I'd ever be."

"Really?" Loba's hands wrapped around Kairi's thighs, easily lifting her up to sit on the counter. She pushed her legs apart, tracing along the insides of her thighs delicately, slowly. She brushed over her center, making her breath halt. "Because this says otherwise, little bird."

"I can't stand you," Kairi muttered through gritted teeth, trying to resist temptation. Her body pulsed at Loba's touch, a pool beginning to gather in her underwear. Her fury returned, but she was already under the thief's spell, unable to regain control. Loba slipped off Kairi's pants with ease, letting them fall on the tile floor. The cold marble counter underneath Kairi made goosebumps ripple over her skin. Loba's fingers continued to dance along her thighs, only enforcing the chills she felt. When her hand pressed against her soaked, lacy underwear, Loba smiled at Kairi's stubbornness and the ultimate betrayal of her body. No matter what she said or how much hatred she felt, Kairi was desperate for her.

"Is that so?" Loba instigated, slipping a long, dainty finger past the border of her underwear to circle against her clit. Kairi's body shuddered as a gasp fell from her lips. "Tell me more."

Kairi met Loba's expectant eyes. She wanted her to prove her distaste. She wanted to see if it was just an act or if it was true, genuine hatred. Kairi's competitive spirit flared inside her chest. She had to prove it.

"You're infuriating," Kairi declared, willing away any whimpering or panting that would break the facade. "You're a snooty, fucking priss. You're a princess who gets everything she wants." She spat out the words like they tasted bad. Loba's finger hadn't stopped moving, and she hit a spot that caused her to bite down on her lip to stop a moan. "You think you're better than everyone else, when you're not. You're just a criminal with more money than you know what to do with, and-" Her breath hitched, a quiet whimper interrupting her train of thought.

"And?" Loba egged her on, a wide smirk spread across her lips. There was something tantalizing about having someone insult her while she had the power.

"And..." Kairi regained her composure, but she felt the anger and hatred fading, the flame inside of her still burning strong but now out of lust. "And you're fucking beautiful, and you- you feel so, so fucking good."

"That's my little bird," Loba praised, feeling victorious at breaking down Kairi's wall. She sped up her fingers as a reward. "Doesn't it feel good to admit it?"

The arrogant confidence in her voice caused fury to flare once again. "I didn't admit anything," Kairi snapped. "I still hate your guts."

Loba blinked in surprise. All feelings of praise and success had washed away. She saw the roaring fire in Kairi's eyes, and she knew then that she was telling the truth. Loba felt a pang of hurt, quickly replaced by annoyance.

"Fine," Loba said, seemingly unbothered. Her face was indifferent as she pulled away from Kairi, leaving her exposed and open on the counter. If she was going to be a brat, she would get what she deserved. "Suit yourself. The front gate closes at ten, so you might want to get a move on. See you at the games."

She dismissed Kairi with a wave of her hand as she turned the corner, disappearing behind the doorway. Kairi sat still on the counter in stunned silence. Then, after a moment, she gathered her things once more to leave like she had originally intended.

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ayo-cowbelly · 4 years

Text

Anakin Everlasting

read on ao3 here

wowww look at me, posting writing two days in a row... here’s to being productive

again, blame discord. those amazing angst-lovers keep inspiring me to write and make everyone sad.

hope you enjoy!

p.s. pretty sure it's a thing that jedi live a lot longer than average people, usually over 100 years. so that's why that's in there.

***

Anakin wandered throughout the temple. Not the Coruscant one, as you might think- no, he was on Yavin IV now. Years ago, the Jedi had decided to expand and, seeing as there was an unused temple on a lush planet, a planet that was strong in the Force- it was perfect for a new branch of the Order.

He stared out at the greenery, so different from what he had been used to. Even though he came to this place almost 100 years ago, Anakin couldn't find himself getting fully adjusted to the new environment.

Anakin was now surrounded by greens, blues, and browns, so different from the golds and tans he was used to. Those colors represented everything he loved, everything he'd lost, and that which he could not bear to see taken from him. That was why, even if it was a bit uncomfortable, Anakin had moved to Yavin IV. He has lost so much- and Anakin had never been good with loss.

Yes, time heals all wounds, and of course he'd spent time meditating with Yoda, learning how to let go; Yoda was the only one who could even begin to understand Anakin's plight. Despite that, however, he still found his heart aching when he thought of his friends, his family, and how they had left him.

Padmé had been the first to go. She lived to be 97, and Anakin never stopped loving her. As she got older, Padmé had insisted on Anakin moving on, finding a younger person who could keep up with him, now that she was too frail to even leave the apartment most days. He knew she'd be gone soon, so he promised he'd try to find someone.

It was the only promise he'd ever broken.

"I don't want you to mourn the moment you spent with me for an eternity," She had told him.

Anakin, tears in his eyes, whispered back, "You are my eternity, Angel."

That, even 1000 years later, was still true. He loved her, as many others in the galaxy had loved someone; fiercely, eternally, even if she was dead. Anakin and Padmé had a love that would always be real, be true, as long as he kept her memory alive as he traveled across the stars.

Anakin cried for days when Ahsoka died.

His first and dearest Padawan lived to be 117, and she had been feisty until the very end (only Leia had been able to keep up with Ahsoka in that regard- oh, Force, Leia-)

When she left, laying in her bed with soft condolences and gentle teases and whispers of "Don't forget me, Skyguy," Anakin had thought that would break him, as he held her now-limp hand.

Obi-Wan was worse. Obi-Wan, the oldest family member he had left, had been gone for a long time. His brother had lived to be around 124 (or maybe not, Anakin seemed to be getting worse at keeping track of time the longer his life went on). Obi-Wan had lived a long life, a happy life; and when his time came, he learned enough of the Force that he could still visit Anakin, sometimes.

Every once and awhile, the two could talk (it used to be always, back when Obi lived- but Anakin would be the only one who would get an always). But it wasn't the same. Not even close.

He'd never admit it, but Anakin cried for over a week when Obi-Wan faded away. At that time, he was sure he would shatter; If Padmé hadn't broken him, if Ahsoka hadn't, surely his older brother would.

Obi's death had to be the worst, he was positive.

He was so, so wrong.

Nothing could compare to the pure heartbreak that came with the death of his children.

Luke, who was bright like sunshine and serene like water- and Leia, who was pure fire and somehow engulfed everyone she met. They were the brightest parts of Anakin's life, both in the Force and not. They were the best parts of him and Padmé, and he loved them so incredibly much. And, being twins, Luke and Leia spent almost every moment together since their birth. Throughout their lives, it was rare to see one without the other, for nobody was as closely intertwined as they; save for Anakin and Obi-Wan.

So, when Death came for his children, Anakin had to watch as they left together (there was no other way they could go). He'd had them for an amazing 156 years, years he would forever cherish.

Now he didn't have anyone. But somehow, he was still whole. He hadn't broken then, and he hadn't broken when his later Padawans had died (death was hard for Anakin to think about. Even though he somewhat feared it, he also wanted it, if it meant he could see his dearest ones again). But Anakin knew Death would never claim him, so he made the most out of his eternal life (but it was a half-life, for what is a life without love?)

He took other Padawans, trained other students and treated them as his own. Though he knew it was a bad idea, as nobody could stay forever, they became his family. Just as Ahsoka once had, when she'd stepped out of a shuttle on Christophsis.

Anakin also found he was good at storytelling. Every night, he made his way to the Crèche and regaled the younglings with his stories. The now-legends of a beautiful queen, a wise Jedi Master, a snarky Togruta (who had become a Master in her own right), an exasperated clone captain; and later the stories of a brave young man and his fiery twin sister, the smuggler she fell in love with, and how through it all were two droids who were the best of friends.

He told the next generations about their adventures, how they found joy while fighting a war, and he told them of how they had managed to discover and overthrow the Sith. He taught them how to find the Light, find love, even when hope seems lost.

The younglings loved the stories, ate them up until Anakin had no more, so he'd retell them again. He told them to the children, to the Padawans, to the Knights, and even the Masters (even if they were old, most had grown up hearing of Anakin's adventures). His only rule for those who heard the tales? Pass them on, so the memories stay alive.

He taught them a truth he had discovered: Nobody is ever really gone, as long as you keep on telling their stories.

Anakin forever would.

He made his way to a special room he had reserved for himself in the Temple, for as Grandmaster (now that Yoda was gone, Anakin had become the Grandmaster. Yoda's death, of all people... that had hit Anakin harder than he'd thought it would. When someone who seems to be forever dies, said death is shocking) he could do such things.

When he entered, he looked around the room. He surveyed the pictures and trinkets that lay there, waiting for him.

By Padmé's picture, there was the old Japor snippet necklace- along with a small flimsi paper flower he'd once made for her, onboard a Star Destroyer while thinking of how he missed her.

Beside Obi-Wan's, there was a lightsaber that hummed. It seemed to have a mind of its own now, and the buzzing got louder as Anakin approached- or rather, his own blade did. Just as their users were connected, these lightsabers were as well. There was also a small holo of Anakin and Obi-Wan on Cato Nemoidia, just after that "business" that Obi-Wan always said "didn't count". In the picture, Padawan Anakin is grinning widely, arm slung around a very disgruntled Obi-Wan's shoulders.

Next to Ahsoka's lay her two lightsabers and the golden headdress she'd worn since she was young. Anakin remembers how he'd gently lifted it off her head at the funeral, for if he couldn't keep his sister, his beloved Padawan, then he would keep this small part of her.

Alongside Luke and Leia's (their pictures were one and the same, since they almost never did something without the other) there were their own 'sabers and two drawings the twins made when they were toddlers. If Anakin remembered correctly (as time went on, he found it harder and harder to look at such things) the pictures depicted their family- which of course included Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Rex, R2 and 3PO.

The two droids had been shut down long ago, finally going out of use just after Padmé's death.

The room housed other pictures, which showed the rest of Anakin's Padawans- including Ahsoka, there were six in total; But even though he kept all their lightsabers, he only had trinkets for two of them.

Uchani, who had been his second Padawan about 40 years after Ahsoka died, had been a quiet but strong Zeltron. She was a calm person, but there was spunk in her that rivaled Leia's. Uchani was amazing at calming Anakin down when he was angry, the gentle waves of her Force presence dousing out the embers in his. She had become his little sister as well.

Then there was Myn. A young Tholothian, Myn was brave and outspoken, and him and Anakin fit well together. He was the sixth student Anakin had taken, and though he loved all his students, Anakin remembered Myn vividly.

In all his eternal years, Anakin had not been prepared for seeing his Padawan die young. In battle, no less.

Myn was slain by a Darksider in the catacombs of Akiva. Anakin had been too late, moments too late; after cutting down the enemy, he watched as Myn's life dwindled.

Knowing Anakin well after ten years of training, Myn had wheezed, "Don't- Don't do anything- anything reckless, Master."

Anakin refused to look at the wound on his apprentice's stomach. "Myn, we need to get you to a healer-"

"Master- Anakin-" Myn coughed, and Anakin felt the tears in his eyes overflow and run down his face.

"No, please, not you too," Anakin said, but he already knew what the outcome would be.

"It'll be okay, Anakin," Myn murmered, and then he was gone, just like all the others.

Anakin shook off the memory of his last Padawan, and he sat down in the middle of the room. Rex's helmet (Rex, who had lived to be 105 once the accelerated aging was healed, had never stopped standing up for what was right. When his body failed him, he switched to words, fighting until the end. Anakin missed his twin so much), which Anakin had kept in as good condition as possible, stared back at him as he told his family of his day.

When he finished, he felt a presence behind him, and wasn't surprised to see the faint blue glow of Obi-Wan's ghost.

"It sounds like you had a good day, Anakin."

"I did," He said back happily. "But it's not over yet. I'm about to go see the younglings- care to join me, Master?"

Obi-Wan smiled softly. "I'd be delighted, Padawan mine."

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jiikyu · 3 years

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Taste of Marigolds In Bloom

Herb of the Sun — Or Marigold was often used during the Middle Ages as a love charm. Carrying one of these brightly colored flowers was thought to bring love. Though be warned for they are also poisonous. Chapter IV. Sitting in the back of a police car was not how you anticipated your night ending — And certainly not with Mirios arms wrapped around you all the while. You’re not sure how you got here. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ All characters are 18+ Yandere!Mirio x Fem!Reader(AΩβ) Y/N = Your Name F/N = Your Full Name E/C = Eye Color H/C = Hair Color

Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy Behavior / Delusions / Angst / Possessiveness / Violence and uh Fluff? First Chapter Here❦ Previous Chapter Here❦ Next Chapter Here ❦

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ “Oh hey!” Mirios leans his arm against the doors frame. “Isn’t this a lovely surprise.” “Hey, do you wanna come to Nabezos with me?” Your question takes him by surprise and he feels his arm slipping. It’s raining. “Sure, let me grab my jacket.” ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ The little droplets from above mean the sidewalks are clear of people, it’s not often you practically get the city all to yourself. When Mirio agreed to come with you to the popular restaurant off campus grounds, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. It wasn’t like you to swing by unexpectedly, at least not without some form of prior acknowledgement. Like a text. What’s even stranger was that you wanted to go to Nabezos, in the rain. Maybe it’s nothing to be get riled up over... The conversation flows in it’s usual lighthearted manor with you both throwing in the occasional jab. It’s normal. But if that’s truly the case then — Why won’t his heart stop hammering violently against his ribs? Somethings not right. He just knows it. Mirios pace starts to slow to a crawl, and little by little it all together stops. And you had been so close to making it to Nabezos, maybe two blocks down the sidewalk? Suddenly his appetite is gone. When there’s no respond to your corny joke do you turn to see the blond fallen behind. Everything about it feels so very wrong. Standing like motionless his yellow umbrella rests loosely in his grasp, shoulders slouching forward. But — You catch sight of something that freezes the blood in your veins. Tears threaten to spill from those blue pools. How had this happened? Only a few seconds ago were you chatting like normal. This proves all of your fears and suspicions, that there is something deep troubling Mirio. That’s why you were doing this right? You were going to do your best to gently coax out whatever was bothering him. Had you already messed up? The gap made between you wasn’t large by any means but by gods do you close it fast. Abandoning your umbrella to ground below as shoes splash against the wet pavement, now your standing before him in the rain. “Wait Mirio what’s happening? Why are you crying?” “Y/N...” His voice has been reduced to a rasp whisper, the usual optimism drained and you can see the bottom of the well. “Are you leaving?” Huh? The question confuses you even further. That cannot be the root of the problem, a small idle conversation between you and your friend could not have been the cause of this. “What? Of course not!” As much as you want to stay in Musutafu — Your words are not quite the full truth, are they? “Well I... I don’t actually know yet.” Do not make promises you cannot keep. The way he kneads his lip with his teeth, suffocating any sound from escaping, it does nothing but further shatter your heart into tiny fragments. If this continues you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to put the pieces back together. You’re about to speak again when the blond does the unexpected. Taking a deep breath he exhales, then the corners of his mouth upturn. It is nowhere near as radiant as his signature smile, and you know it’s not real. But now it’s his turn to close the gap. Taking the step forward Mirio dips the yellow umbrella so it no longer hangs over his head but yours. The thrumming of his heart drums against his ears, he’s sure you hear it too. “Y/N, what if I told you I don’t want you to go?” Oh. Wait? Does that mean? Oh. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “I —“ The soft pitter-patter of raindrops against the umbrellas canvas matches your own heartbeat. Fast and light, like suddenly you’re floating. You watch the collar of his gray gym shirt start to darken with moisture and droplets catching in that sunshine soaked hair. You swallow down your shame because — You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. “I would say, I feel the same.” You’ve never seen someone visibly light up the way Mirio does when those words leave your lips. The very words he oh so desperately needed to hear. Was that all it really took? No, he must be dreaming. “Really?” The single word is laced with so much hope it’s palpable, it’s followed by a sniffle as he brings his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. “Of course idiot!” Your own eyes start to blur and you blink them away before it’s too late. “Now stop it, you’re gonna make me cry!” Your fingers grab a hold of the umbrellas metal handle, just above Mirios hand. You push it towards him, so it’s no longer covering only you. “There, now we can both stand under it.” Sure, both of you have a shoulder that’s going to get absolutely drenched, but do you care? No. Mirios eyes go big when you do this and you swear you see literal stars dancing in those pools of blue. You’re so blissfully unaware that everything you’re doing only furthers you both down this spiral. He’s staring at you like you’re his entire world. And he wouldn’t change a single thing about you, for anything. “Aw you’re such a softy Y/N.” “Wha — You were crying first! You started it.” It’s not fair. He really does have the most contagious smile you’ve ever seen. Hand in hand you and Mirio continue to make your way to Nabezos, your own umbrella is left forgotten to the rain. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Dinner had gone so well that you’re left giddy and boy, does it show, your smile never once falters. Not even when the scent of cigarettes and alcohol starts to overflow your senses. Currently you’re leaning against the outside of Nabezos, the buildings bricks now having imprinted into your back. Awning overhang keeps you dry from the rain while your eyes stay trained to the bright screen of your phone. Sun having started its descent the color slowly begins to fade from the sky. But you’re not worried, campus is only a few blocks away.

And you have Mirio.

Now you’re just wait on him, who, being the forgetful man he is forgot his wallet at the table you had eaten at. Never in a million years would you believe someone as breathtaking as Mirio would return your feelings.

Your happiness leaves you blind to the world.

“Hey are you d-deaf or do you just think it’s cute to ignore someone talking to you?”

Huh? Only when you look up from your phone do you realize there’s a man, who you don’t recognize, staring directly at you. Your mouth is suddenly dry. The stench of booze and smoke is so strong your nose is set ablaze. You can’t help but take shallow breaths. When had he gotten so close? Were you really that oblivious to your surroundings? Your pulse is racing but you don’t move, maybe if you continue to ignore him he’ll leave you be. What a stupid idea. Suddenly your wrist is grabbed, phone slipping from your grasp and it falls to the pavement. And now you’re trying desperately to yank yourself from of his grasp. But his fingers have an iron clad grasp around your limb. “What sort of game are you trying to play?” He’s shouting at you and you have no idea what he’s going on about, you just want to get as far away from him as possible. Your eyes barely catch the flash of yellow that appears over the drunks shoulder and before you know it he’s no longer holding onto your wrist — Or rather he was flung off you by an impact to the gut. The stranger lets out a cry as his back slams against the hard concrete below. You listen to him cough and sputter for air, but you don’t look — Your eyes stay glued to your savior. Mirio. Besides the loud grunting coming from the man who just got his guts rearranged, it’s eerily silent. You cannot see the blonds face, so you can only guess what expression he wears... But something feels off and that scares you. You finally tear your eyes away from Mirio when you hear the other stand. The stranger regained his footing but why isn’t he running away? Isn’t it enough? Mirio hasn’t moved an inch since landing the first strike, standing between you and the man. A shield. Neither move for a while, just staring each other down and you can see the sweat beading down the strangers face. You never would have expected Mirio to be the one to break the stalemate. Basically just straight up breaking into full sprint towards the stranger before banking a quick left. “Oh shit —“ Is all the man manages while raising his right arm, taking shaky aim at the blond, some sort of liquid ejects from his fingertips? Mirio makes it look so incredibly easy to dodge, the inky black substance lands somewhere in the shadows. Forgotten. The man does not get a second shot. An earth shattering blow lands under his chin and you swear you hear an echoing crack of bone against bone. And just like that it’s over — Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Anyone would be knocked unconscious by the sheer force. But Mirio doesn’t stop. What if I told you I don’t want you to go? Those are the words that come to mind as your E/C eyes follow Mirios fist. Over and over again it connects with the strangers face. Time slows like some form of torture, you watch the man take each crushing blow. As you watch the blonds knuckles begin to turn a dark crimson. And you do nothing but stand frozen, a bystander, a participant. Even the ability to speak is lost to you. Only when the terrible sound of blood starts to bubble up from the man’s throat does Mirio finally release his white-knuckled grip from the shirts collar. Without the Alphas hold the unconscious body rag-dolls to the pavement below. God, does the sickening thud make you shudder in disgust. Now it’s just you — And the man who has only ever showered you with warmth and overbearing kindness. Towering over the bloody pulp of a man he stands with his back towards you, chest heaving as he attempts to recapture his breathing. Your mind is so vary far away right now but somehow, somewhere in your anxiety riddled state are you able to produce a single cohesive repeating thought. It’s something that comes so naturally it almost terrifies you, you might even loath yourself later for it... You cannot help but be frightened, not for the beaten man lying against the cold pavement, no your fears are for Mirios safety. For his sake. When he turns to face you you’re met with the burning blue of the ocean. And within seconds you swear you see the raging sea already starting to simmer. Your feet stay planted as your hero takes the first step towards you. Even if your life depended on it you’re not sure you’d be able to move an inch — Though it’s too late for that now, isn’t it? By the time you notice he’s practically all over you, but there is an invisible wall of tension that keeps him from touching. With the back of your shoulders pressed against the brick wall there is no escape from the cage of muscle surrounding you, thick forearms having rooted themselves on either side of your head. Every instinct screams at you, to run, to submit, to hide, to do anything useful. Maybe you’re broken. Instead, you find yourself entranced, E/C eyes trace along the scars of those very forearms keeping you trapped. The healed skin darkened where deep gashes once bled. Following the perfect blemishes to the meat of his shoulders you accidentally meet deep iris pools, completely and utterly awestruck. The expression Mirio wears is one you’ve never seen before. You want to tell yourself that it’s the shadows casted down by the looming cities walls — Or that’s it’s just the dark clouds raining down on you. But... You’re having a difficult time convincing yourself. “Are you hurt?” A low breathless whisper pulls you from muddy waters, dredged up from the murky depths of your mind. Was that Mirios voice? He’s close, so close, his ragged breathes ghost across the bare skin of your neck. Your eyes fall to the filthy lot concrete, where you’re barely able to make out the motionless mans shape. Why is it so hard to see? You hadn’t even noticed your eyes gloss over, fat tears already rolling down your cheeks. “M-Mirio you —“ The pain in your voice has his chest twisting in agony. Sharp thorns digging into the delicate flesh. Seeing you like this hurts worse than the searing ache in his knuckles. But it’s okay. Because you’re safe. The thin threads holding him back finally fray and snap. Mirios arms abandon the wall behind you, pulling you flush against his broad chest, muscled arms wrapped around your frame. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” His head rests atop your own, you feel his lips move against your locks as he continues to reassure you. “I’ll always be here — I promise.” You won’t ever have to be worry again. Being held only makes the flood tears worse, when your body melts against his so does the last bit pf willpower holding the dam together. Slowly you begin to hiccup into his shirt, your arms shakily wrapping around his neck, falling further into the embrace you feel his arms tighten. And now your balling in a empty public restaurant parking lot with a bloody unconscious body only a few yards away. The dying rain isn’t strong enough to wash away the scent of copper. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Blinding red and blue lights flash across the cities walls. When you speak with the police — Well actually, it’s not so much you speaking with them as it is you listening to Mirio tell them the details of what happened and offering a weak nod when they wanted your input. You haven’t spoken much since exhausting your lungs and draining a lakes worth of tears onto Mirios shirt. His eyes keep darting to meet yours between every couple of words. You watch on as the blond speaks clearly and calmly with the officers, you envy his ability to do so. He’s even able to smile as if nothing happened — You finally tear your eyes away, choosing to look at a lone anthill, inches from your foot. The weight of his jacket keeps you semi-warm as you stand under the overhang of Nabezos, the smell of ocean and sun clings to the leather, you pull the fabric tighter around your shoulders. You had watched as three first responders wheeled the stretcher to the waiting ambulance. As soon as its doors slammed shut the siren blared to life and the vehicle sped away. It was a good sign you tell yourself. A sign that the man was alive. The invisible weight on your shoulder lifts, if only by a hair. “Do you need a ride home?” The question snaps you from staring at the pavement. A male officer, possibly a Beta? It’s hard to tell in the rain, he has kind eyes. There’s no time for you to search for an answer before a firm hand finds itself planted the deputies shoulder. Mirio now stands behind the rather startled man, all smiles of course. Though something about the curve of his lips doesn’t sit well with you. “That would be great actually, can you give the both of us a ride?” It takes you a second to realize he’s answering for you. “We’re both headed the same direction.” “Of c-course.” The officer shakes away his initial fright by the time he finishes speaking. And you still have yet to process what’s happening. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Sitting in the back of a police car was not how you anticipated your night ending — And certainly not with Mirios arms wrapped around you all the while. You’re not sure how you got here. But what you are sure of is that there isn’t an inch of you that doesn’t smell like the Alpha. He’s been scenting you ever since entering the vehicle, practically pulling you into his lap. It’s not so uncommon amongst friends — Although, you’re no longer just friends, are you? His hand could wrap around your wrist two times over. The blond has a delicate touch as he traces the pad of his thumb over your skin, he holds you as though you’re porcelain. The entire time your eyes are glued to the red busted skin of his knuckles. An uncomfortable clearing of a throat breaks the moment. You had almost forgotten about the police officer who so politely offered the ride home. You blame it on overactive instincts, that this is probably the norm, it’s a lousy excuse and you know it. And a part of you, one that you’re desperately trying to drown under the surface until there is no oxygen left, knows instincts are not the only thing at play here.

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ When Mirio told you he’d be staying the night at your place you thought it had been an offer. Not a fact. You remind yourself that you know Mirio. Know that he would never hurt you, that he’s only looking out for you. That’s why you agreed.

So what if your every attempt to convince him you’d be fine staying alone was disregarded. Right?

You stare into the mirror, letting the sink fill with water. Paying no attention to the temperature you soak a hand towel into the ice cold liquid. Bringing the damp fabric under your eyes you wipe away the last remnants of tears marks. The soft knock on the door startles you from your haze, looking over you notice the shadow of what can only be a pair of feet peeking under the thin frame of wood. “Are you okay?” Mirios voice may be muffled behind the wood but it’s impossible to ignore the worry bled into every syllable. “Yeah.” Your own voice is still raspy from your crying, it reminds you how weak you truly are. “Just give me a few minutes... Okay?” “I’m here.” What you can’t see is the large hand pressed into the creases of door. “When you’re ready.” The outside noise seems to die down with that and you listen to the static of the running water as you strip out of your soaked clothing, peeling the wet material from your skin. The jacket that had kept you warm now hangs off the tubs edge. ... Mirio stands guarding the entrance of the restroom. Like a good boyfriend. Foot tapping nervously against the carpeted floor. This is all so new, usually the hero is in full control of his actions. But now — Every passing second is another nail plunged into his coffin, he might have really screwed up big time... And just when the two of you had finally become official. He doesn’t know what took over. But he does. When saw you cornered by some low life — He only remembers the feel of white hot burning rage coursing his veins and the look of terror in your eyes. He really dropped the ball hadn’t he? He doesn’t regret it. Not even for a second, he’d do it again, for you. His only regret is scaring you. Suddenly his foot stops its anxious drumming. It becomes apparent to him that — With you in the bathroom he has full range of your dorm, unsupervised. Not that he would do anything fishy, of course not! It’s just the first time he’ll get to appreciate your little temporary home.

A glimpse at the future you’ll share.

Waiting by the door for another minute he takes the first experimental step away from his post, waiting with bated breath. Nothing. The only sound is the continuous running of a faucet. It’s the only sign he needs to continue onwards, down the hallway. By all means it’s not a long journey, in only a few of feet does the blond find himself in front of a cracked door, a dim light streams through the gap. With a featherlight touch he pushes it open to reveal what he’d hoped for. Your bedroom. He’s not disappointed, the room is so very you. It smells like you. Even when Mirio’s absolutely drained he can’t help but admire every little detail, even down to the lone sock lying forgotten in the center of the floor. A tired smile makes its way to his lips as he goes to pick it up, tossing it in the hamper sitting only a few feet away, a smile resting pretty on his features all the while. How forgetful you were. He doesn’t mind this, in fact quite the opposite — He can’t help think it’s quite domestic. Who knew he’d windup such a hopeless romantic? Before the blond knows it he starts to wonder what living together would be like. It really can’t be helped.

Mirio can almost envision you seated at his table waiting while he cooks your favorite meal, it might take him a couple of tries to nail but he’s anything if not persistent — Or perhaps, waking up to morning kisses with your legs tangled in knots. Maybe one day a couple of children that share both your and his qualities pop into the picture. He understands how silly it is all is, that he can’t help but feel as though he’s already been living this life with you. Too bad it doesn’t last. The sweetest of daydreams are cut to shreds when blue eyes catch the unmistakable flash orange and white of a bottle. On your nightstand are your suppressants, sitting carelessly for all to see. After staring for what is probably considered far longer than normal a not so innocent thought just sort of floats its way into his system and... Suddenly Mirio’s being crushed under the weight of something tremendous and hideous. Guilt. He could never. Everything’s falling into place, just the way it’s meant to. But — Some stranger had basically gone and flipped his world upside down in the matter of seconds. That drunk bastard leaning in close you, probably whispering dirty words to you... His fist clenches into a tight ball, knuckles still burn from the impact of skin against skin. God only knows what that creep was gonna do? That filth had tried to take you from him, there is no mistaking. Was it some sort of cruel joke, turning the best day of his life into one of the worst? A bead of sweat breaks along his brow as blue eyes continue to stare down the bottle of white pills. Fear has got Mirio in a chokehold and right now it’s a losing battle. You are someone he wants — No, needs to protect, that’s why he can’t stop but think... What would he do without you? He doesn’t notice his fingers have started moving on their own volition. Mirio cannot picture a world without you.

#mirio x reader #yandere mirio #bnha mirio #yandere bnha #mywriting #SO EXCITED TO POST THIS YA'LL #it really should have been split in two but whatever #theres one☝️ chapter left this is ur warning☺️

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misshoneybee · 2 years

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⟣ 𝑊𝐸 𝐿𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑁 𝑇𝑂 𝐿𝐼𝑉𝐸 𝑊𝐼𝑇𝐻 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑃𝐴𝐼𝑁 ⟢

— 𝐼𝐼𝐼. 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑉𝐼𝐿'𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑇𝐴𝐼𝐿𝑆 𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝑌𝑂𝑈 𝐺𝑂𝑇 𝐴 𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑁 𝑀𝐸

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter II — Chapter IV

❧ Pairings | Post-Infinity War!Steve Rogers x Original Female Character, Minor Original Male Character x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, canon-typical violence/injury, themes of mental illness (depression, anxiety, ocd, ptsd)

❧ Wordcount | ~5k

❧ Disclaimer | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best, But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me ( Peace | Folklore )

May 19, 2018

Forty-five minutes later, after changing out of his own pajamas, Steve sat in his office with Maggie's employee file and a cup of coffee that Natasha had brought him when she'd overheard an employee talking about Captain America carrying some girl across the building just after dawn. He'd accepted the beverage but rebuffed her knowing look as he scanned down the page for the phone number of an emergency contact; it almost felt like an invasion of Maggie's privacy when he read through the details that he didn't feel like he should know, like the fact that her parents had died in the battle of New York just six years earlier.

He felt a weight on his chest when he saw she'd only been twenty-one when she was left on her own; she'd been younger than he was when he'd lost his mom. Running a hand over his beard, he leaned forward, resting an elbow on the cool glass surface of the desk as his tired eyes read more, unable to look away from all of the new information.

"See the thing about her dead parents?" He looked up to see Natasha back in his doorway once more, taking a sip from her mug as she watched him.

"How did you know?" He raised an eyebrow at her, leaning back to look less interested than they both knew he was.

"I make it a point to google everyone who lives around here." She shrugged nonchalantly before a small smile spread across her lips. "She's a nice girl, seems like you'd like her."

He was incredulous, shaking his head at her antics. Even when they'd been on the run together, Natasha hadn't stopped trying to find him a girl.

She'd been successful a few times but life on the run wasn't exactly conducive to relationships.

"Romanoff, she's unconscious in a hospital room." He tried to reprimand her, he felt his cheeks turning a light red behind his beard as he quickly moved on. "I'm just trying to find her emergency contact to call them."

She nodded, carrying on as she gestured for him to look further down the page, "That's her best friend. She works with Dr. Cho."

He registered that she had definitely looked at Maggie's file at some point and he'd have to talk to her about boundaries again.

"Helen Cho?" Steve raised an eyebrow at the familiar name.

"Yeah, some kind of prodigy, apparently." Natasha didn't move, watching Steve read through the information while he carefully tried to control his microexpressions as to not give any of his thoughts away to the trained spy.

Tracing his finger down the page, he found the name and quickly jotted down the number so he could close the damn folder and stop feeling like he was learning too much about her without her consent.

Like the fact that her full name was actually Marguerite Brynn Hall, not Margaret like he'd assumed, or that she had served in the Peace Corps in Ukraine after her parents' deaths. Or that she was allergic to penicillin or that she had graduated first in her class with her master's degree.

He couldn't help but want to know everything that wasn't in the file too.

"Okay. Bye, Nat." He spoke without looking up and it was like he could hear her roll her eyes at him before she finally departed, leaving him alone to make the call.

He gave a quiet chuckle before dialing the number he'd written down, looking out the window and absentmindedly watching the almost silent world outside.

The phone rang several times before a chipper voice answered on the other end of the line. "Hello?"

He sat up straighter, "Hi. Is this Poppy Stewart?"

"Yes? And who am I speaking to?" Sitting in a lab in Chicago, Poppy looked down at her phone and made a face at what she saw; the call was from an unfamiliar, New York number. With her luck, it would be some debt collector or someone trying to steal her identity.

She should have known better.

"I— uh, Steve Rogers." He sounded awkward as he tried to introduce himself.

Immediately she was suspicious, standing and turning away from her classroom, "Like 'Captain America' Steve Rogers? That Steve Rogers?"

Her green eyes were wide with curiosity. Of course, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility; Maggie had told her about her recent move to the Avenger's facility and she'd mentioned that several of the heroes were also temporarily living there while they tried to figure out their new plan in the wake of the decimation, but why was one of them calling her?

"Yeah." He paused, unsure whether or not to continue. "I wanted to talk to you about Maggie—"

"What about Maggie?" Poppy felt her stomach drop as she cut him off, the wind swiftly taken from her sails. She gripped the side of a lab table, her happy inflection finally wavering and falling away as she dreaded his response. Her thoughts began to race.

What could have happened to her? They'd spoken only the day before. Of course she was hundreds of miles away and couldn't just drive there in this moment. Had there been an accident? Had she gotten hurt? She couldn't keep the fear from her voice once she finally inquired quietly, "Did something happen to her?"

"No! I mean—well, yes, but she's okay." He was quick to respond, knowing his initial statement probably wasn't the best way to approach the topic. "She passed out a little while ago."

"Passed out?" Poppy raised an eyebrow.

"Fainted." He confirmed with a quiet sigh, "She hadn't slept in two days. She's in the medical center now. They had to stitch her hand up because she cut it pretty badly on some glass but they have her on a sedative for now and she's resting."

Poppy exhaled quietly, feeling her heart break as she blinked back her tears with a shake of her head, "Why wasn't she sleeping?"

Steve paused, feeling like he should maintain some of her privacy, but this was Maggie's emergency contact and best friend; she had no one else. At least, not at the moment.

"She said she couldn't stop thinking about 'them.'" He tapped a pen on the desk absentmindedly, flipping it again and again as he turned her words over in his head.

"Of course she couldn't." She knew that Maggie would work herself in to an early grave someday.

The survivor's guilt following the death of her parents had nearly killed her, so of course this was affecting her on a brand new, much larger, scale. Poppy's attention was taken as one of her undergrads called her name. She paused and held an annoyed finger up to her student, slightly exasperated as she thought, 'Is data analysis truly so difficult?'

"Could you have her call me when she wakes up? I just need to know that she's okay."

"Yeah, of course." He made a note to himself.

She hated that she couldn't be there, and she knew her request would irritate Maggie, but her words spilled out before she could second-guess herself, "And...could you make sure she isn't alone when she wakes up? She likes to pretend that she doesn't get scared but she hates hospitals. Like, she really hates them. She complained about going after a fucking car accident when we were in college so I just know she'll be upset about this. And I know you're probably busy doing 'you' things but maybe you could have someone else like Pepper—"

"I can be there." His voice was kind but firm as he cut off the rambling girl. A part of Steve felt strangely protective over Maggie despite not yet knowing her well at all.

"Thank you." Poppy let out a quiet sigh of relief at his promise, some of the tension leaving her shoulders as she exhaled. "I appreciate you calling me."

"It's not a problem. I'll call you if anything changes before she wakes up." The two said their goodbyes and he sank back in his chair.

Since the decimation, there was no set schedule or things he had to do. Everyone had just been trying to stay afloat in the new world. Standing, he grabbed a book and some paperwork and made his way back to the small, hospital room where the brunette slept silently surrounded by a symphony of soft sounds that came from machines that matched the beat of her heart or measured her blood pressure.

He didn't know when she'd wake up, but he knew that she wouldn't be alone when she finally did.

There was a slow, steady beeping that cut through the mostly silent air. The soft mattress cradled Maggie gently as she blinked awake after hearing several hushed voices from across the room. Of all the beds, hers was the only one that was occupied within the spacious room. The dim light streaming through the shaded windows allowed her to see everything clearly as her eyes adjusted to being open once more.

Beside her, in an armchair that had been pulled close to her bedside, was Steve Rogers. His focus was on the book in his lap as he read it silently flipping to a new page and she watched as he silently mouthed the lines to himself unaware of his audience. Several feet away, Pepper, Bruce, and Natasha were all speaking with one another.

Maggie opened her mouth to speak but it was incredibly dry. Spotting a bottle of water on the table beside her, she began to lean over and stretch her arm out to reach for it but her movement didn't go unnoticed.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." There was a small smile on Natasha's face that didn't quite reach her eyes as her raspy voice broke the atmosphere while Maggie struggled to sit up in the bed, feeling like she was being weighed down by several cinder blocks that had been placed on her chest.

Looking over at her, Steve quickly sat his book down and leaned over to help her, one of his hands resting on her back gently as he guided her into a sitting position. She rubbed her tired eyes as he uncapped the water bottle she'd been seeking and handed it to her with a small smile that she returned gratefully. Maggie accepted it wordlessly, looking around at the other visitors as she tried to piece together details that didn't quite fit.

"How long was I asleep?" Her voice was hoarse from not being used; she cleared her throat before taking a sip of the water. It was silent as they all exchanged glances; unsure of who should speak first. Her nerves began to prickle quickly when the fog from her mind slowly dissipated and her consciousness returned in full.

She blinked, trying to remember events that simply weren't coming to mind, when she heard the beeping of her heart monitor pick up its pace as she slowly became more anxious. Her quiet voice wavered, "When did I get here?"

Bruce was the first to respond, moving towards her as he pulled the small penlight from his pocket and turned it on, "You don't remember?"

Looking down, she tried to retrace the steps of her timeline: she'd finished at her office around five in the evening, she'd gone back to her room and showered, then she laid down to sleep. She remembered tossing and turning for hours before going to get a glass of water to take a sleeping pill but then it was like her slate had been wiped clean.

"I...remember getting a glass of water last night." She sounded uncertain, looking up at him as he held her chin still and used the light to perform a quick examination on her eyes and mental status.

Had all of that been a dream?

While he watched her pupils dilate in response to the bright light, his kind voice was low as he responded, "That was really early this morning."

Maggie's brows drew together and she shook her head, pulling away as he tried to finish her assessment, "No, that doesn't—"

"Maggie," Pepper walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed. She felt a pit in her stomach and she knew that she wouldn't like what Pepper had to say. The woman's soothing voice couldn't soften the blow from her words as she took her hand gently, "Steve found you in the kitchen after he woke up. It looked like you'd collapsed and when we had Friday look at the security footage, you'd been there for almost two hours before he found you."

"Two hours?" Her voice cracked and she felt herself deflate. Pieces of the early morning came back to her in flashes: glass shattered on the water-covered floor, a bloody handprint on her leg, a cabinet knob digging into her shoulder.

"You cut your hand pretty good on the glass, so they stitched that up for you." He nodded to the hand that Maggie hadn't even realized was currently wrapped in a thin layer of white gauze. Blood rushed to her cheeks, making them burn red-hot in embarrassment.

She hated being taken care of and this was her worst nightmare come to fruition.

She took stock of the multiple pieces of equipment that she had been hooked up to in her unconscious state. An IV had been placed in the back of her hand, a blood pressure cuff was squeezing her arm periodically as it took the vital. There was a pulse-oximeter on her finger and leads from a heart monitor had been placed on her chest to track her cardiac activity. Her comfy pajamas had been replaced with a hospital gown at some point and her feet were now clad in the 'fall-risk' socks that had traction grips on the bottom.

Curling her toes, she cringed and looked down at herself; she felt more than humiliated before she realized that no one had actually answered her question. "How long was I asleep?"

Steve checked his watch and frowned before looking up at her, "You kind of...fainted—" Maggie groaned and leaned back on the headboard, wishing she could sink into the cushion of the bed and never reemerge from its depths. She met his eyes as he continued, "And then Bruce put you on a sedative so you'd actually get some rest. So, it's been about twelve hours."

She shot forward when she realized that she'd missed an entire day of work, she knew that it was all hands on deck. She quickly pulled the wire leads from her chest and through the neck of her gown, wincing as the adhesive pulled away from her delicate skin but she didn't care. Before she was able to pull the needle from her hand, Steve had quickly covered it and gave her a scolding look with the shake of his head.

"Maggie!" Pepper's voice was firm as she grabbed Maggie's other hand once more, "Stop."

She could feel her lip quiver as she closed her eyes. She hate that she cried when she was angry or embarrassed; this was no one's fault but her own. Steve quietly let go of her hand and she used it to swipe away some of her tears, "I missed a whole day of work. I was supposed to have a call with—"

"I had it rescheduled." Of course she had. Pepper was always three steps ahead of everyone else, including her. The older woman's thumb soothingly ran across the back of Maggie's hand, avoiding the cannula that protruded from it, as she continued, "You needed rest. You're taking tomorrow off and you can start back Monday, if Bruce clears you to."

The man in question was speaking with a nurse, checking Maggie's current numbers against the ones from early this morning.

"I'm bribing him not to." Natasha chimed in, almost teasingly, as she sauntered towards the bed. She paused and met Maggie's eyes with a tight smile on her lips, "I'm glad you're okay but don't pull this shit again."

With a small nod, she left the infirmary, most likely heading to a meeting. That was about as warm as the Black Widow got.

Pepper's phone rang and she sighed quietly, giving Maggie's hand one last squeeze before standing to take the call to another room.

Steve was still leaning forward as he watched the scene in front of him unfold. Maggie turned to face him, toying with a loose string on one of the blankets. Some of the events from the morning had come back to her in echoes, "You carried me here." Her voice was soft as she recounted what she remembered, "I'm...so sorry about everything."

"What?" Steve tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow at her. He was taken aback; an apology was the last thing that he expected to hear.

She stifled a yawn and shook her head as she murmured, "I didn't mean for all of this—"

"Maggie, it's not your fault." Interrupting her, his voice was firm. He rested his elbows on his knees as he looked into her eyes, "You didn't do anything wrong." He shook his head at her familiar need to be the strong one, "You can't be everything all of the time, sometimes you have to let other people take the wheel."

"But I—"

"—can't always control everything." There was a note of finality in his voice when he finished the sentence for her.

Though the two didn't speak often, it was as if he could read her like a book. It was almost unnerving how he knew her so well in such a short period of time.

Changing the subject, he sat back a little as she settled back into the bed. "You need to call Poppy later."

"You told Poppy?!" Maggie groaned, cutting her eyes at him.

"She was your emergency contact!" Steve was almost defensive as the incapacitated woman cut her eyes at him. The glare that was piercing America's star-spangled-man-with-a-plan was almost deadly but he had to tamp down a smile that threatened to rise at her response.

"She will never let me live this down." She grumbled, laying back and settling into the blankets once more, pulling them up over her chest, "I'll call her tomorrow and if she calls before then," she jabbed a finger towards him, "you get to deal with it."

"Deal." He chuckled, watching as she readjusted the blankets, pulling them tighter around herself.

"Captain Rogers?" Maggie's gentle lilt saying his title got his attention once more.

He shook his head with a half-smile, "Steve. I think we're past titles."

"Steve," She agreed, giving a sweet smile in return as her eyes became heavy once more. Her breathing was becoming slow and even as sleep began to take her again, earnest as she continued, "Thank you. For everything."

"No problem." He whispered as she closed her eyes and gently gave her cold hand a reassuring squeeze as she drifted back off to a dreamless sleep.

Even sleep couldn't make her let go of his wide, heavy hand that held her own.

May 20, 2018

Maggie buzzed around the small kitchen, trying to distract herself in one of the only ways she knew how: cooking. Using a knife, she quickly chopped whatever vegetables she was able to find in the fridge before sautéing them in a pan with she'd doused with a green-golden swirl of olive oil. She grabbed a box of pasta from the pantry and read over the label, contemplating how much to make before settling on dumping the entire box into the bubbling water that waited below. She hummed softly to the eighties pop-rock playlist that she'd quietly turned on from her phone as a distraction.

Since leaving the hospital earlier that morning, there was no doubt that she felt better. It was like a switch had been flipped. After everything was said and done, she'd slept for almost twenty-four hours straight.

Each time she'd woken up, Steve Rogers rested in the chair beside her bed, usually awake and doing mission reports or reading but several times she'd caught him slack jaw in his sleep, his head resting back on the headrest as soft snores came from his mouth. Her sunken cheeks and eyes had been reanimated with the hydration that the IV had given her, she no longer felt like she was on the verge of collapsing where she stood, and she had finally regained an appetite.

As she moved around the kitchen, Maggie worked on autopilot. She'd been released on the condition that she would take it easy, and make some attempt at relaxation, before returning to work on Monday morning.

Never one to completely obey orders, she'd returned to her room and, after a shower to rid herself of the sterile smell from the infirmary, began unpacking her things from the brown cardboard moving boxes. Making the unfamiliar space slightly more welcoming had been a feat in itself as she hung pictures and organized her books on the shelf alphabetically. It had been an all-day event; she hadn't noticed that she hadn't eaten since that morning until her stomach rumbled loudly while she sat on her bed, admiring her work.

"Please tell me you made extra." Maggie was taken from her reverie by Natasha dragging a stool out from under the table and sitting down. Crossing her forearms, she rested her chin upon them as she watched the younger brunette move around the kitchen. The two had spoken some in passing but hadn't had much time to get to know one another.

"I definitely did." The quiet exhale of a laugh passed through Maggie's lips, "When was the last time you had a vegetable?"

"I had chips earlier and potatoes are a vegetable, so then." Natasha quipped back with a shrug.

"Okay, so it's safe to say that you don't remember." Maggie shook her head as she tossed the pasta and rainbow of vegetable into the creamy, lemony sauce before covering it in a heavy blanket of parmesan shavings that fell like snow.

She plated the food and slid the dish in front of Natasha who accepted it eagerly. Quickly stabbing several noodles with a fork, she unceremoniously shoved the bite in her mouth before letting out a groan of satisfaction, "This is the best thing I've had all week."

Maggie grinned, spearing a piece of broccoli on her fork, "Considering that I've only seen you eat sandwiches or frozen pizza since I moved in, I'd hope so." The warm food was comforting in some way; the act of cooking had always been soothing to her.

"Mm, where are you off to?" Maggie looked up at the woman's words, following her eyes to find Steve entering the common area, wearing a pair of khaki pants and a tight, white tank top with a towel tossed over his shoulder. The sight of him made her face feel warm. "Hot date?"

"Yeah, with this." He held up a razor, running a hand over the facial hair that he'd been sporting over the past several years while on the run. There hadn't been many opportunities to shave while evading capture. "I think it's time to say goodbye to this thing."

Natasha gave a disapproving frown, before speaking around a mouthful of food, "I liked the beard."

"Me too." Maggie chimed in, smiling over at Steve who met her gaze. She'd seen photos of him before, always clean shaven like a classic, military man but she couldn't help but find the thick beard incredibly attractive.

"Maybe I'll grow it back someday." He chuckled, continuing his way to the bathroom.

The two women ate in a companionable silence only broken by guitar strums and synth notes from the musical stylings of The Cars. After several songs, Maggie sat up after hearing a dull rumble. She drew her eyebrows together and glanced over at Natasha, a matching expression on her face. Through the window, in the distance, Maggie caught sight of a small but bright light and a large shadow above it as the dull noise grew to a roar, beginning to shake the building. "What the hell is that?"

Natasha was already grabbing her jacket, quickly making her way outside. Maggie followed in suit, seeing Pepper far ahead of everyone as Rhodey, Steve, and Bruce made their way out to see what the commotion was as well. The six of them stood near the landing area of the grounds, waiting with bated breath as they watched what looked like a glowing woman slowly help a large spacecraft come to rest on the ground after the landing gears deployed.

A ramp opened from the bottom of the ship and two figures stood at the top, illuminated from behind as it slowly unfolded. Without a doubt, it was Tony. A robot-like woman with blue skin helped to hold the frail man up as they carefully made their way to solid ground. Her breath caught in her throat and she watched as Steve and Pepper took off in a sprint towards them. She felt like she couldn't move as Rhodey gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

He was home.

Although worse for wear, Tony had somehow beat the odds and come back to them.

May 21, 2018

"Uncle T," Maggie stood from the chair she'd been residing in for the past hour, exasperated as she followed the sickly man who'd somehow gotten someone to bring him a wheelchair, then decided he needed to talk to everyone else at the compound. "What the fuck are you doing?"

She grabbed the tower to which his IV was attached and put a hand on the back of the chair as he attempted to get away, rolling her eyes and mumbling, "Pepper is going to kick my ass." Quickly, she moved the drip bag to the chair's attached pole and made sure it hung securely before ensuring the coast was clear.

"She'll know it was my idea." Tony gave a small shrug, silently grateful that he didn't have to exert his already limited energy to push himself across the building.

Maggie took the handles and pushed him through the halls, keeping her eyes peeled for any nurses that would be unhappy with his silent escape, "Where did you want to go, anyway?"

"Living area. I need some type of nutrition that isn't liquid," He gave a disdainful look at the IV bag, "And I asked Friday to get everyone there."

"When did you have time to do that?" She raised an eyebrow though he couldn't see her, shaking her head.

"When you were telling the nurse she didn't know how to do a mental status examination and stole my chart."

His response was quick; if the examination hadn't been conclusive, she could tell that his faculties were obviously still intact.

"She was doing it wrong." Maggie defended firmly while slowly rolling him backwards into the elevator, careful not to jostle him too much. She knew he hated being treated like he was fragile but she'd never seen him look quite so ill.

"Was she? Or did you just want to do it yourself?" She could almost hear the smirk in his voice when he quipped back.

"Shut up." She grumbled, no longer having a defense as the ding let them know that they'd already ascended the floors.

"Don't tell me to shut up, young lady. I'm on my deathbed, or in my death chair—" He struggled to look back over his shoulder at her and, although he was only trying to make a joke, Maggie felt a pit drop in her stomach.

She stopped short, turning his chair so he was forced to look at her stern expression as she crossed her arms over her chest, "Don't say that. Don't ever say that." He bowed his head, feeling moderately guilty for the joke as the young woman reprimanded him in the empty lift, "I know you're kidding, but you're not dying. Not now, not anytime soon. Get it?"

"Got it." He nodded, acquiescing her request.

"Good." She gave a short nod before pushing him out through the doors and walking him down the hall in a tense silence before she finally broke it. "If you're done being a drama queen, I'll make you lunch."

"Thank god."

"It's gonna be bland because you're still delicate and I'm not dealing with you if you get sick." She teased, only half-joking with the older man as she parked him at the table between the living area and kitchen.

"Yeah, that's a fair trade." He shrugged.

She turned on the stove, quickly grabbing a pan and soup from the fridge that she'd made a day or two earlier. As she sliced some bread, she glanced over at him, rubbing his tired eyes behind his thick rimmed glasses.

In that moment, she couldn't help but realize exactly how similar she was to her pseudo-uncle. Losing their parents before they'd really gotten a chance to know them. Always using false confidence and humor to mask any past trauma and the constant, paralyzing fear of failure. Never not working.

Sitting the bowl and plate in front of him, she gave a gentle pat to his shoulder before the ruins of the tattered team filled in. Standing aside, she watched as they got down to brass tacks. The already-tense conversation quickly took a turn, Tony's irritation radiating around the room and filling any empty space that it could. She winced as the clattering sound of glass broke the mostly quiet room before Tony ripped his IV from his arm and continued his rampage, finally standing precariously on his own.

As he tried to make his way to Steve, she was grateful that Rhodey grasped his arms, holding him up in an attempt to reason with him. She looked down at the table in front of her, listening as he pushed past his old friend to continue towards the man he had once considered to be one.

Standing, she watched anxiously as he gripped the glowing apparatus in the middle of his chest and pulled it off forcefully, shoving it into Steve's hand. While Tony spoke, she watched Steve's expression flicker between regret and hurt, the lines on his forehead deepening with each blow dealt by Tony before he dropped to the floor.

She hadn't even had time to respond before he'd been returned to the hospital wing, that Maggie was now well-acquainted with, only minutes after he'd fallen. Pepper had met them there, Maggie looking properly reprimanded by her for letting him leave to begin with.

"Just keep me in the loop." Pepper sighed softly, rubbing Tony's arm gently as she gestured to the waiting room. With a nod, Maggie made her way out, following behind as the defenders of the universe discussed their next course of action.

In the evening, after listening to the remaining team's plan, she made her way back to the hospital room through the maze of hallways and doors. Through the glass, she saw Tony still asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath he took. With her head resting on her arms, leaned over the bed, was Pepper. Knocking gently on the door, she saw the older woman startle slightly before sitting up and waving her in.

Maggie didn't completely enter the room, electing to stay by the door and relay the information that she'd gathered. Her voice was soft, not wanting to wake the exhausted man who was deep within the trenches of sleep, "They know where he is, that Thanos guy." She still had a hard time believing any of this was real: aliens, other world, traveling through space. "They're going to find him. They think that...maybe they can fix everything; make it the way that it was before."

Pepper nodded, taking the information in stride as she brushed a hand over Tony's scruffy face, her thumb caressing his cheek gently. Maggie looked up to the ceiling with her eyes closed, silently sending a prayer to a god, that she didn't believe in.

Maybe the team could do it—maybe they could fix this mistake. But after the sun had come and gone the following day and the team had returned with their heads hung low, she knew that that was finally it.

This was defeat.

2 notes · View notes

villainsunoo · 3 years

Text

my heart wants you, i want your love more

its that sungki fic ive talked about (part 1 of ??? bc im not done w it but i wanted to post some of it) just listen to stray kids mixtape: oh the entire time thats my explaination

tagging @many-gay-magpies @honeyseungz @given-taken bc i think you guys might wanna see it 👉🏽👈🏽

In the glow of the afternoon light shining through the sheer white curtains, he seemed unreachable. There was a soft glow all around him, like a halo surrounding him, and it stopped Riki in his tracks. As if going any closer would burn him, as if touching him would be sacrilege.

He stood there for a while, long enough that he was sure Sunghoon must have noticed, just staring at him in awe. Then, as abruptly as he had stopped, he walked on past the older vampire, crossing the room to leave. Thoughts of wanting Sunghoon to reach out and stop him from leaving did nothing to slow his brisk pace.

Still, his head turned to look at the elder on instinct. The man in question seemed to have not even glanced at Riki, but there was a small smile gracing Sunghoon's face, one that definitely hadn't been there before, and suddenly Riki felt like a child. He whipped his head back around, tips of his ears turning red— and found the couch much closer than he remembered it being. With his head too muddled for his otherworldly reflexes to kick in, he rammed his knee against the side of the couch. No matter how deadpan his face was, his red ears and neck gave him away. Sunghoon, who Riki assumed still wasn't looking, would know anyway, having known Riki for centuries now. He was too embarrassed to even steal one last glimpse of Sunghoon before he teleported out of the room.

It was a different room, made obvious by the lack of furniture and of Sunghoon, but it looked similar. The soft sunshine filtering in through the white curtains caught his eye once again. He walked closer, taking the fabric between his fingers. It wasn't the curtains themselves that fascinated him, though. It was the way the light shone down on Sunghoon through it, the way it highlighted the sharp edges of his features and softened the curved lines, the way it made his skin glow. Riki's grip on the curtain tightened, feeling a warmth rise slowly in his chest again. His breath caught in his throat as he recalled the way the sun shone into Sunghoon's red eyes, bringing out the colour that contrasted his pale skin, the same way his lips did. Riki shook his head, as if doing so would get rid of his thoughts somehow.

How long had he been harbouring these feelings? Years, decades, maybe even centuries. No matter how long it had been, it always felt new. The way his slow heartbeat would pick up its pace at the sight of the older vampire, the way his train of thought would halt, replaced by thoughts of how it would be like to have his feelings reciprocated. He would always end up like this, alone after embarrassing himself in front of the man he adored, daydreaming like a teenager. He did get turned as a teenager, so maybe he was doomed to be like this forever.

He could barely recall his earlier days, when he first became a vampire. He knew he still looked about as young as he did back then, just a little taller and with wider shoulders. His face looked a little more mature too, hardened with the experience of many centuries. Maybe that meant he did change a lot. Sunghoon, however, liked to still insinuate that he hadn’t grown much, that he was still a child. It was a little insulting, and if he had an ego, it would certainly be bruised. But he'd been alive for so long now, gone through so much; ego was a long forgotten concept. Still, it made him think a little too hard.

Was it that he was still childish and immature? Was it because he still looked so young? Worse even, would Riki having grown and matured change anything, if Sunghoon still thought of him as a kid regardless? Would it be off-putting for Sunghoon to find out what Riki really feels about him? Maybe he already knew and he was being polite by not saying anything about it, subtly rejecting Riki in that way?

He rested his against the window, the curtain being the only thing protecting his hair from burning. His deadpan expression melted into one of frustration, lips forming a frown, a deep sigh escaping. Being in front of Sunghoon did make him feel younger. Like he was still a hard-headed, clumsy teenager. No matter how eloquent his speech had become over the years, his tongue felt like lead in his mouth whenever he tried to speak to Sunghoon. In the end, he always sounded like his 15-year-old self that Sunghoon liked to reminisce about; all jumbled sentences and words that don’t fit quite right in the context. Maybe it should be enough that Sunghoon would get a fond look in his eyes whenever that happened.

Maybe a confession was in order. If only to get it off his chest, get it out there, so he could get closure, so he could move on with his eternal life. Maybe then he could find someone else to pine over, someone who won't make his heart feel like it was blooming one second and breaking the next. A stable love. Something that sounded increasingly hopeless with Sunghoon. Then, maybe, when that emotional rollercoaster is over, he could go back to normal around Sunghoon.

But he couldn't help but feel like it would be pointless, like his heart would go back to Sunghoon anyway. Like his love for Sunghoon gained sentience and would return his heart to the elder no matter how hard Riki would try to escape it. Another sigh escaped him, louder and more dramatic, as he fumbled with the curtain slumping against the window sill. Maybe it wasn't a stable love he wanted, anyway. Just Sunghoon's. Whatever kind of love it may be. His heart seemed to only want whatever kind of love Sunghoon would have to offer to him. If Sunghoon even wanted to, that is.

"And if he doesn't? What would you do then?" And now he was criticizing his feelings like he was scolding a child. Yes, what then? What then, Riki? You'll just keep giving him your heart anyway, that's what. And so, a new problem arose. Confess now to get it out there, so that Sunghoon could decide what to do from there, or keep it to himself, forever pining after someone he deemed impossible to reach. Literally forever.

He would die of heartbreak instead of living many more centuries like he would have been able to if he hadn't developed these feelings for Sunghoon. His lips pushed into a pout, brows furrowing more and more the more he thought about it. Why did he have to go and complicate things for himself by catching feelings?

#hope the readmore works #this is LONG

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eleanor-devil · 3 years

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Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.14 - Tears of Regret

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05

Naruto was reading the complete report on the interrogations, Shikamaru standing beside him, neither of them speaking. With each word he was reading the blond was feeling his heart getting heavier. "I... absolutely, completely messed up..." he mumbled finally, shaking his head. "Naruto..." his advisor began with a sigh. "Don't be so hard on yourself..." "And how can I not?!" he exclaimed as he jumped to his feet and began pacing back and forth. "It was my responsibility to keep that child safe! And I failed, I couldn't protect him from those bastards..." There was a pause before the Hokage painfully added. "Or from the villagers..." "You couldn't have known..." "Shikamaru." Naruto gave him a knowing look. "Lame old excuse, and you know it." The Nara didn't say anything else to that. Naruto paced for some more, and turned again to look at him. "I want to hold a second meeting. Inform the clans and tell them that attendance is mandatory, we will tolerate no excuses." Shikamaru nodded. "Any preferences of when?" Naruto thought about it for a minute. "I would've loved to have them dragged out of their beds right now, but let's have it at sunset. Everyone will be present by then."

"On it." Just as Shikamaru walked towards the door, it opened suddenly, making him come to a sudden stop. Seeing the person standing in the doorway, Naruto immediately walked over. "Sasuke..." "Lord Seventh." Shikamaru bowed his head slightly before walking out. As soon as he was out, Naruto asked in a low tone. "Where is Orochimaru?" "I followed him, like you wanted." the Uchiha said seriously. "He went to his son's apartment, and he didn't come out." The Hokage was still tense. "That means he saw those graffitis..." "Oh, he did." The look in the obsidian eyes hardened. "He stared at them for a good while, too. He decided to take no action, but I don't know for how long this silence will continue." The blond closed his eyes for a moment and let out the breath he didn't know he was holding until then. "We have to keep an eye on him. If he decides to strike..." "It is not like he doesn't have good reasons." At the look his friend had given him, the man huffed. "But in any case, I am going to keep close tabs on him. I will keep you informed." The Hokage nodded. "We will have another meeting at sunset." Sasuke didn't say anything, simply nodded. When he opened the door, he almost bumped back into Shikamaru. "Naruto..." the advisor said, almost breathless. "The trackers are back." The blond's eyes widened for a moment, and before he knew it, he was already pushing through his advisor to get out of the room. In front of the office building, he found out that already a dozen people had gathered. And indeed, the trackers were approaching, Konohamaru in the lead, carrying an... unconscious...? dead...? He couldn't be sure, but he was carrying a woman, and something about the look on his face... made Naruto almost cringe. There was also another prisoner as far as he could see... He walked forward to meet them, his eyes on the woman who was on her feet. "Is she...?" "No." the answer came from Konohamaru, and hearing his voice... the blond now knew that something was indeed wrong. "Yoshida Suzume was this person." he indicated the woman he was holding. A moment of silence fell upon the gathered. So many questions came to Naruto's mind, but he didn't voice them just yet. Instead, he turned to one of the jounins. "Take that woman to the hospital." Then another one. "And take the other down to the interrogation rooms." Then he turned to the trackers. "I expect your reports to be delivered tomorrow at the latest." "Yes, Lord Seventh." they said in unison. "You may leave." As they turned their back to go, Naruto spoke once again. "Konohamaru... I would like to speak to you for a moment." The young man nodded and turned around to follow him into his office. The Hokage was watching him intently as he closed the door. "What is wrong?" he asked at last when he turned around properly to face him. "Excuse me, Lord Seventh?" the brunet asked, sounding genuinely confused. "I can see it in your expression... What happened there? Something is troubling you..." There was a pause. "I... I’d really rather not get into this right now." "And I’d really rather not have you in this state of mind.” His look softened. “You know you can tell me.” Another pause. Naruto just waited patiently, hands clasped beneath his chin. "You know, Lord Seventh..." the brunet said at last, not looking up. "We are trained as ninjas, capable of withholding our emotions. But sometimes... sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way. For me especially, tonight..." Naruto didn't say anything for a moment, but felt a small lump forming in his throat. "Konohamaru..." "That woman said he... h-he..." the jounin gulped, it was only too clear that he was having a hard time to continue. "She told me that in the end, he was crying..." Shock reigned supreme on the blond's face as he registered the jounin's words. "H-he... what...?" He was trying, hard, to regain his composure, but it had become a hard job... almost impossible... "She told me a lot of things... Just to bring me down, I guess, but I knew those words were lies... but... When she said that, I knew it was true... What they did to him... What we did to him..." "Konohamaru..." Naruto sighed as he brought two of his fingers to pinch his nose... Honestly, it was all that took him to remain calm... He could understand only too well what could have gone through the poor boy's head... How many times had he felt so heart-broken that he just wanted to run away and never look back? How many times had he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of all the hatred? He had promised himself... the moment he had accepted the boy into Konoha, that nothing like what he had gone through would happen again... That was exactly why he had put up a decree even before the child arrived, forbidding anyone and everyone to cause him harm... He felt like he was falling apart to see that he failed... and not just only a little, he had failed miserably... Trying to ease his mind out of those thoughts, he concentrated his attention on the young jounin again. "You can't let this get to you." "Can’t I?" Konohamaru continued, and his voice came out tired, strained... even with a bit of self-loathe if he had to guess, which made the Hokage frown slightly. "How was I any different toward him compared to the villagers? Did I treat him right, did I make him feel wanted?" His voice faded away as he closed his eyes and shook his head. "What good am I as a sensei...?" The blond sighed again and closed his eyes for a moment before getting up and walking towards the jounin. "You are the best sensei I could ever think of for them," he said firmly, causing the brunet to look up at him. "There were no other options. And I never regretted my decision." He grabbed his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "So you made a mistake, everyone does. All you have to do is keep believing in yourself and get right back up." "Some mistakes are not easily reversible though, are they?" Konohamaru said, with the hint of a bitter smile himself. Knowing that no words he said would help and only being sure that time alone could ease the heavy burden on his shoulders, the Hokage let him go and stepped back. "We will have a second meeting at the sunset..." "I will be there." the jounin said, almost in a cold tone. Then he sagged a little. "Lord seventh, if you may... I'd like to... go see him..." Naruto nodded. "You may leave." ... The raw rays of sunshine embraced the hospital building, as if to completely cover what the darkness of the night brought, to right the wrongs. The man's steps were neither too slow nor too quick, he was just striding forward as if a divine order was directing his steps. He quietly made his way to his student's room, his heart thumping loudly. Was he still there? He had to be there, right? He had to hear the news, he had to know he wasn't forgotten, he had to know he was cared for... He stopped for a minute before the room and gazed inside, just to make sure. Their positions weren't changed. Mitsuki was still lying motionless on the bed, the only thing reassuring them being the steady sounds. Boruto sat with his back to him, straight and unmoving. Sarada was sitting by his left side, facing the sensei, her head on the bed, although Konohamaru could see her eyes were open, just staring at their friend. It was a surprise to him that Shikadai was still there too, sitting next to Sarada, but a pleasant surprise. Gathering the courage that he didn't know had suddenly vanished, Konohamaru grabbed the door's frame and slid it open. The three pre-teens turned at the sound. "Sensei..." whispered Sarada. "Hey..." it was all he said as he approached them, pulling out a chair and finding a spot to sit next to Boruto. He stared at his youngest student for a long while, the night's events playing in his head, marveling at how brave this boy had been... reckless too, yeah, there was no denying that... But to face those monsters, completely isolated... He put his hand over Mitsuki's, careful about not touching the IV. A broken smile etched on his face and he had to gulp before he whispered, "Hi there, kiddo." "I…” he heard Shikadai say, and the boy paused for a second before continuing. “I will just be waiting outside…” He could only very clearly hear the reluctance in his voice, even when the Nara started to rise from his chair. Konohamaru was surprised for a moment but that quickly went away as the soft expression returned. He smiled a bit at the young boy before shaking his head. "No..." he said. "I want him to know that we're all here." Shikadai relaxed back in his chair while his students didn't utter a single word, simply staring at their sensei and then back at their friend. The look in the jounin's eyes hardened a little as his gaze, too, drifted to the unconscious boy. "You better prepare yourself for a good scolding when you wake up, Mitsuki." The children were clearly taken aback, both by his words and tone, he could see the shocked expressions on their faces. "W-what do you mean, sensei?" Sarada asked, gulping. "Why...?" "He was attacked..." Shikadai said cautiously, eyeing the sensei wearily. "It's not like..." "It's exactly what it sounds like." the brunette explained simply. "Your friend here thought it was a brilliant idea to engage five jounins in battle for the safety of the village." There was a deafening silence. "...five...?" the Uchiha mumbled finally in a tiny voice. "But that... was he...?" the blond wasn't even able to put together logical sentences. "You mean to tell me... What kind of stupid logic was that?!" he finally burst out. "Why would he do that?! How could he even believe he could win against such odds?!" "That's something only he can tell us... I can't wait to hear the whole story from him, either." Konohamaru went silent again as he looked back at Mitsuki, trying to gather his thoughts. "We did it, kid," he continued. "We got the last member of that damned squad..." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the kids shifting, now interested. Sarada's fingers curled a little more around Mitsuki's hand. Konohamaru tried to choose the right words, just gazing at the blue haired boy's face. "I'm sorry..." he whispered after a second. "I am sorry we weren't there soon enough. I am sorry you had to face them alone, even when you shouldn't." He sighed. "And I'm sorry... that you ever felt you were truly alone..." This certainly caught their attention. "Sensei...?" whispered Sarada, curiosity but also worry filling her ebony eyes. Shikadai also shifted in his seat, sitting up straight, a frown in his features. "What do you mean... he felt truly alone...?" The young man looked between their faces sadly, this was going to be hard for them. He closed his eyes for a second as, unwelcome as it was, the woman's words about how Mitsuki was... crying... came back to him. He opened his eyes again, looking at the child lying on the bed and lightly squeezing his hand. "One of those damned ninjas..." he began, his voice broken. "She had the power to block sounds. Together with a strong genjutsu they trapped Mitsuki in a place where we couldn't even hear him... couldn't even know he was fighting for us..." He heard the three slightly gasp as their attentions immediately drifted towards their sleeping friend. Konohamaru had to sigh before continuing. "But it seems that he didn't... know about that trap… so they taunted him... about how no one was coming to his rescue, even though he was so close to us..." He felt his lip tremble for a moment but he quickly regained his composure. "Mitsuki... believed that no one was coming to help him... that he was completely alone..." “Damn…” the Nara mumbled, forgetting momentarily the presence of the jounin. Sarada brought a hand to her mouth, the other still tightly grabbing her friend's hand, and tears began to fill her eyes. "No..." she whispered, unable to truly comprehend how that must have felt. They had completely ruined him... The villagers, those ninjas... No one coming for his help... She started shaking with sobs. What did Mitsuki ever do to deserve these...? Boruto was trembling, and tears filled his eyes as he tried to gulp. "How could you ever think we would leave you alone...?" he whispered, so quiet that his voice barely reached his own ears. For a moment Konohamaru let go of Mitsuki's hand before wrapping one arm around Boruto's shoulders and extending the other arm to touch Sarada's hand. He smiled brightly at them. "That's why we need to stick together, to let him know that we're all here for him. Alright...?" "Mitsuki..." Sarada began, trying to pull herself together. "We... we are all here. We are with you... We will see this together..." Her voice trembling, she couldn’t go on . "We will always be here for you..." Shikadai supplied, finally finding his voice again, although the mere effort hurt as he spoke. "Even if you get bored of us at one point, we will stick by you anyway," Boruto said with a strong determination, also trembling a little. It might have been their imagination... but the moment they said that, it felt like the heart rating machine's beeps rose for a moment before returning to normal. Had Mitsuki heard them...? Had he felt that? The sensei gave a small laugh at that, gazing fondly at his younger student. "That's right, kiddo... You are never alone." He didn't know how much time passed, but after a while, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and got up. "Get some sleep, you three." he said, but he wasn't sure if they would listen. Boruto couldn't help himself as a small, sad smile adorned his lips. "Sensei..." he said, not taking his eyes away from his best friend's face. "Thank you." ... Hanabi was preparing to greet the new day, her mind smoothly, effortlessly going over the daily ordeals she expected to face with the Hyuuga. Not long before Himawari had dropped in - not that she stayed long, only long enough for a quick breakfast with grandpa, and then she was off with her friends from the clan. She really didn’t expect anything big to happen today. The general atmosphere in the clan was pretty mild considering the past few days, and she was content that none of her brethren betrayed her decree about obeying the Hokage’s orders regarding the recent hostility around Konoha. She really didn’t expect any visitors either. That was why the knock on the door came as a surprise. She walked briskly to the entrance, and for a moment was at a loss of words when she saw who it was. “Konohamaru…” she mumbled, still not knowing what exactly to say. It had been precisely three days since they last talked. She knew it wasn’t really a big deal, their brief disagreement in the meeting was just that… brief and insignificant. It had been on her mind for a while actually to make things up with her lover. But the blank expression on his face now, one that sent chills down her spine, made it clear to her that that wasn’t his purpose right now. The jounin raised his head barely to meet her eyes. “I didn’t want to go anywhere else…” And then he began to slump forward. “Konohamaru!!” the woman exclaimed, now truly alarmed as she adjusted herself to support the weight of the brunet so she could carry him inside. That was when she got a good look at his back, and a gasp escaped her lips. She didn’t know he had been on a mission… the cuts didn’t look too deep but definitely needed some disinfection. The jounin didn’t react much as she carefully carried him to the sofa. It was when she made to get up and get some supplies that his hand grabbed her wrist, gently but enough to make her stop. “Stay… I’m fine…” “You’re hurt.” she tried to reason, but didn’t pull her hand back. The look in his eyes was so… tired, so lost that the woman started to get restless… just what was going on…? “This is nothing.” Konohamaru mumbled finally, and then averted his eyes. “Nothing compared to…” “Konohamaru…” “He very nearly died… they didn’t even care he was just a child… He was so severely injured… he almost died…” the man had begun shaking, while Hanabi found it almost impossible to breathe with each one of his words. “And now the medics don’t even know whether he will wake up or not…” The Hyuuga was so shocked that she couldn’t even find her voice. “W-what…” she gulped. “Who are you talking about…?” “And all because he decided to fight…” he continued as if he didn’t hear her. “Mitsuki… as always, he put everyone’s safety before himself and decided to fight… even when we made him run away…” His voice caught, and his next words were almost lost. “Even when I made him run away…” “Oh my God…” Hanabi whispered, bringing her hand to her mouth. She didn’t know the full scope but… what he was telling was horrible… And Konohamaru was still not meeting her eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on his trembling hands. “Hana… what have I done…?” And just like that, the woman couldn’t hold back her tears. Sitting gently next to him so as not to hurt him more, she put her arms below his and hugged him tenderly. “Sorry… Oh my God, Konohamaru, I’m so sorry…” After just a heartbeat, the Sarutobi put his hand over hers. Neither of them said anything, they didn’t need to. They just let the still morning serenity engulf them. “I don’t know how to live with that… I should’ve protected him against even the village but I did the exact opposite…” Hanabi’s hands tightened a little more. “Don’t… don’t be so hard on yourself, we all made some hard decisions… But I never thought it would actually come to this point…” “I don’t think any of us did.” was Konohamaru’s soft reply. The Hyuuga snuggled a little more to her lover as silence once again dominated the space in between them. “Is… is there anything I can do for you…?” she finally whispered against his back. “Just stay… please...?” The jounin’s voice sounded so fragile then, almost like that of a frightened child’s. It was almost hard to watch the ever so collected Konohamaru crumble like this… Knowing him so well, Hanabi could see that what he had witnessed had really ruined him… Feeling like her heart was breaking into pieces, she leaned in gently to place a kiss on his hair. “Always.” Pulling back slightly to tend to his wounds, it became unnecessary to talk any further. After a short while, she felt him beginning to relax and lifted herself from the sofa, making him lie back down so that he could sleep off the night's events. ... It was about two hours later that Himawari came back. The young woman was shocked when she heard the door bang open and stomping footsteps made their way inside. She quickly looked at her boyfriend but he hadn't even flinched, out cold. She quickly made her way out of the room and silently closed the door just as she heard Himawari's angry yell. "And don't you ever come back! I don't wanna play with any of you anymore!" Hanabi winced when the door slammed shut, loudly. When she got there, she saw her niece was literally fuming. "Hima! What happened?" "They are all a bunch of idiots!" the eight-year-old cried out in frustration. "I never want to see them again!" And with that, she stomped to her room. After a moment of stunned silence, Hanabi decided to follow her. The youngest Uzumaki was sitting on her bed, arms crossed and a serious pout in her features. The young woman slowly sat on the mattress. "Hima... what is it?" "It is those boys! Like they know anything better!" "Why don't you tell me from the beginning? But it's better if we try to keep it down, okay? Konohamaru-san is here and he is sleeping..." "Oh..." Himawari blinked, and bit her lip. "I'm sorry... I just thought, seeing that onii-chan is never around nowadays... they had training or something..." Hanabi gulped inconspicuously, not knowing what to say. The dark look returned to the blue eyes of the girl after a moment, and she began to speak. "It's about Mitsu-nii... It was all good at first, we were just playing some games, but then that stupid Shoji came and asked me whether or not we were still speaking with Mitsu-nii and I swear, auntie, I didn't think anything of it! I said of course we are, me and onii-chan regard him like a brother, and that was when another one laughed and said we should better say goodbye to him then!" For a moment, the Hyuuga felt her blood running cold. "W-what did they mean by that...?" Surely, the news shouldn't have reached yet... If they did, though... "Some nonsense about how he should get out of Konoha, how he doesn't belong here! Ha! As if!" Her voice had risen again. "And I told him to shut his mouth, that Mitsu-nii does belong in Konoha and a brat like him has no sat in it anyway!" Her look became even darker. "That's when he said... they already had their say in it." "And by that..." "They boasted about how some of the older children ganged up on him yesterday night and how that was what he deserved!" The girl was so angry that she was shaking now. "And I didn't mean to... Well I did, but... I hit one of his chakra points. Serves him right, though." She frowned again, deep. "Don't worry about that now." Hanabi was angry... really angry... Yes, they had agreed for the exile but not for these despicable harassments, she had made it very clear! How dare any Hyuuga disregard this?! But she couldn't let her emotions show now... "I wish I could go see him now," the girl continued, oblivious, sadness in her tone. "He must be feeling really down... He will need some cheering up, and I know I'm the only person!" The woman now had a lump in her throat. "Himawari..." "I know, I will go find onii-chan, I'm sure they're just hanging out somewhere... It's so unlike onii-chan to pass up a chance to visit you though, auntie, so I wanna know what's keeping him, too..." Then she smirked a bit. "Maybe he's just busy helping Mitsu-nii against those jerks." Finally, Hanabi just reached and pulled her in a hug, burying her face in her hair. "You will know soon, sweetheart..." But it would be best for Himawari to hear it from her parents. ... The sun had lowered its position in the sky, dying the heavens in shades of crimson and pink. The people who entered the hall were talking to each other in hushed voices, gazing at the front to where Naruto sat behind his desk, his head bowed a little forward, resting on his hands clasped in front of him. Even from a distance it was clear that he was wearing signs of weariness, and a grave look adorned his features, making him seem older for his age. The serious and sad aura he seemed to be reflecting was almost contagious, as every single person standing around him kept their silence, too, almost as if the scene was not a meeting, but the gathering by someone's deathbed. The people looked at each other curiously, but didn't say anything more as they sat down. Honestly, the young Nara couldn’t help but admire Lord Seventh for his near perfect composure. Yes, they were all trained to keep their emotions bottled. That was the first rule after all if you wanted to become a ninja. Still, after yesterday's events, a night that almost ended up in a tragedy, even his father had asked him not to attend the meeting, just like how Sarada was excused. But no... Shikadai especially wanted to come. He needed this, he needed to look in the eyes of each and every one person who had been so supportive of his friend's exile, of the countless harassments that drew him very nearly to his death. He needed to look at them and remind himself his reasons to become a top-class ninja. His reasons to protect these people because otherwise... it felt like he might as well quit right then and there. “Hey there, loser,” he then heard a voice, signaling that his resolve was going to be put to test much sooner than he expected. “You really wouldn’t want to mess with me now.” the boy muttered in a low and tight tone, so that only Ichiro and his teammates could hear him. “Awww, and why is that? Don’t tell me your girlfriend dumped you? Where is she anyway?” "Is that really all you can think about right now?" His snarl was so unlike him as he turned to face the Sarutobi, who was visibly taken aback by his hostility. "You are a chuunin, your village just received an attack and all you can think about is harassing people and making petty talk? While people put their lives on the line?" He turned his back with a disgusted sneer before folding his arms. "What a joke." Seeing that Ichiro was about to make a very angry comeback, and a few people sitting nearby turning around, his other teammate, Namida, stepped in between the two boys and put her hands on the older boy’s shoulders to restrain him. “Enough with this. We’re obviously here for a very serious reason. Don’t turn this into a mess.” Well, at least his teammates were smart girls, Shikadai should give them that. Naruto looked at all of the people who had gathered over his fingers, having a much despised dejavu as he took in the faces. A couple of minutes passed in silence. He lowered his hands. "How was your day?" he asked in a low voice, a voice which was almost devoid of emotions. His words were met with an even denser silence. Naruto stood up slowly, and walked to the front of his desk. "How was your day?" He repeated, this time loudly. "Was it sunny? Windy? Was there rain? Tell me." Everyone looked at one another, completely taken aback. Why was the Hokage asking that kind of a question all of a sudden? "It was... nice, I guess." someone said finally. "It rained almost non-stop from the night though." "Well the sun did come up - I think it was generally a nice day." Naruto nodded to himself while people kept murmuring. "I'm glad you, at least, can see and feel how beautiful the day supposedly was." He said and stopped, while the people in the meeting room just kept staring at him. "Because..." he continued, and his voice took a softer tone. "One of us was not able to see it. Not today. Maybe... not ever." There was a silence in the room, most in it not understanding a word at all. “What…?” Namida started to say, the first in her team to react. Before she could continue, though, her gaze caught the expression on Shikadai’s face. It was sad, so sad… almost heartbroken… His words floated back to her, people put their lives on the line… What did the Nara know that they didn’t…? "What... pardon me for asking my lord, but what is it that you mean?" Naruto opened his eyes and the look was so cold that it caused almost everyone's blood to freeze right there and then. They... had never seen such a look in their Hokage's eyes... so cold... so distant... "Konoha... made a very, very grave mistake..." Naruto whispered, in a voice which wouldn't be heard normally if it wasn't very quiet in the room. "The price of which was almost too high for us to pay." The villagers were more confused than ever now - the Hokage was sure speaking in riddles. The people exchanged glances, none of them daring to question what their leader's words meant. "The child... that more than half of you," he gestured to the clans present. "wanted me to exile over something beyond his control..." he continued before he faced them again. "Is, in this exact moment, in a deep coma after he nearly lost his life trying to protect our village from a barbarian attack." The silence was abruptly broken as once again, murmurings filled the room. Only a limited number of people in the room knew about the events of the evening, for others, it was a big shock. "An attack?" One of those among the Akimichi asked, baffled. "By whom?" In spite of himself, Shikadai couldn’t help but feel that his disgust only grew. The attack, it was all they can still think about… Not the boy who, no thanks to them, almost died to prevent it... "Rogue ninjas of the cloud and survivors of the sound," answered Kakashi simply, knowing Naruto had very little patience right now. "And the attack, like your Hokage said, was stopped by a thirteen-year-old boy." Naruto immediately cut in. "Who, if I might remind... left the village in the first place because of your clans' constant harassments." "Excuse me, Lord Seventh..." Naruto immediately recognized Sarutobi Kichiro's voice among the others, and he instinctively stiffened with the strong feeling of dislike. "But how is it exactly our fault? We didn't force that child to leave." His tone was practically indifferent, no regard for the child who was in such a critical condition... Naruto hit with his fist in such force against the table that it left a crack. "Not your fault...? You, Kichiro, have a big nerve in talking... because I have gathered proof that at least the Sarutobi were under YOUR direct orders to make that child feel unwanted!" He punched the table again, another crack... "Despite MY strict orders that Mitsuki was to be left ALONE and out of this matter!" “They… they have no proof my grandfather started all these,” Ichiro started in a simulation of his old cocky, superior tone, but it was all too clear that he was feeling uncomfortable. “We weren’t the only clan to-” “You were the most vocal though, weren’t you? Even right now.” It was still pure venom in the young Nara’s voice, no mercy, as more and more people turned to stare at their small group. Konohamaru was trying to keep his temper under control until this very moment, when his clan leader decided to speak, and right then, he just snapped. "My student..." He whispered, his tone so cold and hateful that Kichiro actually did a double take. "...just almost died right before my very eyes... They were about to announce him dead... So, by any right, tell me who has been mercilessly harassing him, so I know exactly who I will never have the misfortune to speak to again." Kichiro was sweating... hard... the frown on his face clearly gave away how guilty he was in the matter... Before anything else could be said, a clear, female voice rose in the room. "Lord Seventh," Hanabi spoke. "I was one of the few people that knew about what was happening yesterday and therefore, I have taken measures. The Hyuuga involved in those despicable harassments will be given the proper punishment, it does not matter if my clan voted in favor of the child's exile, I would never allow such a thing to go unpunished." She bowed. "I apologize for what distraught my clan caused to the child." "Excuse me, Lord Seventh, but... rogue nins? What business would they have, attacking a village as strong as Konoha?" It was a pretty valid question, although the subtext was clear enough. Kakashi felt the need to intervene before Naruto could say anything. "They aimed to disrupt the peace and assassinate Lord Seventh, therefore creating chaos in the village." Gasps rose in the air followed by whispers and mumbles. "Assassinate someone as strong as Lord Seventh? They wouldn't make it!" "Perhaps... but until they reached Lord Seventh, how many innocent people would have been lost? How many children would have died in a clearly planned out killing?" said Kakashi. "We have more than enough strong ninjas who would defend the innocent... It seems to me like the child's intervention was unnecessary..." "Not when you couldn't even hear their screams, you wouldn't be able to protect people." Kiba growled, his eyes hard as steel. "Correct me if I'm wrong, because I really... really hope for your sake that you are not trying to call the child stupid in front of me." "And what makes you SO sure that the child was not involved in the attack and was betrayed?" someone suggested. "You said yourselves, some were ninjas from the sound village, found by none other than Orochimaru, who, oh so coincidentally is the parent of that child." "You bastard..." Konohamaru was about to make his way over to the low life who had just said that, and two people, one of them being the Yamanaka in his own team this morning stopped him before he could move. Ryu turned to look at the person who had just spoken, a great distaste in his eyes. "I interrogated the two rogue ninjas that were captured myself. I hope none of you will ever have to experience such a thing happening to your child... How that boy was mercilessly taunted, beaten even after he was defeated and on the ground... and even then he wasn’t afraid to do what it takes to stop them." Having watched Shikadai all this time and noticing how almost all the color drained from his face, the haunted look in his eyes… Namida couldn’t help it anymore. Leaning forward, she put her hand on the young boy’s shoulder, just a reminder that he wasn’t completely alone here. She didn’t know the scope and extent of his suffering but in her eyes, no one should suffer such a big burden alone. At the unexpected touch, Shikadai flinched and turned back to look at her. His stiff posture relaxed just a little when he saw the intention was friendly, and although he turned back to the front of the room to continue and watch the unfolding of the events, he didn’t shrink away from her touch. "Well anyone betrayed would-" The phrase wasn't even finished... there was a huge "CRACK" which scared everyone in that room, what had that been?! "ENOUGH!" They heard a strong, female voice yelling. The faces slowly turned towards the direction to face a very angry Tsunade... hell, maybe very angry wasn't the correct way to put it... she was beyond pissed! Some even gulped... they knew well the former Hokage's temper... "I was there, I saw that child's life almost slip away between my fingers, I KNOW the gravity of those wounds and I guarantee you that if I could, I would make each one of you idiots, who keep mistreating a poor child, have those wounds for the rest of your lives!" The woman was seething, literally trying to calm herself but it was hard. "If anything... Show some respect for a child who almost give away his life so that you ungrateful morons could rest at your homes safely instead of fighting for your lives on a hospital bed! Be grateful for each one of your breath, because a child was selfless enough to take the brunt of a vicious attack that could've turned into a village-wide catastrophe!" Her fist was shaking, but she quickly controlled it. Naruto's eyes were hard as stone, his lips set in a firm line, he hadn't even flinched for a moment at the woman's outburst. Quietly he stood up. "I believe we have all made our point clear here." He started to walk away before stopping in his steps. "I don't think I need to say that those involved in the harassments will be punished for breaking the decree..." "H-Has..." There was a moment of hesitation which caused Naruto to turn and face the one who had talked. "D-Does Orochimaru know what happened...?" "Heh... so now you're scared..." mumbled Kiba under his breath. "He's the kid's parent, of course he was informed." The restlessness in the meeting hall was now perfectly tangible. Naruto felt sick that these people were more concerned about another possible threat rather than the well-being of a dying child. "So for all of our sakes... Pray for the child to be safe and for Orochimaru to not find out for what particular reason his son ended up in the hospital." And with that Naruto left the meeting hall, followed by the others. Leaving behind restless clans whose voices soon started being heard in a mix of confusion but which Naruto refused to listen and completely ignored...

#boruto:sacrifices #boruto #sarada #shikadai #mitsuki #konohamaru #naruto #boruto fanfiction #naruto fanfiction

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enragedbisexual · 4 years

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this is 4 all u stevetony &/or cherik stans who also love taylor swift !!!

first of all folklore is a masterpiece & there r so many songs that r totally anthems 4 these pairings so here’s a wildly long lyric post 2 make u cry

from the 1:

“you know the greatest films of all time were never made // i guess you never know, never know // and if you wanted me you really should’ve showed”

“in my defense i have none // for never leaving well enough alone // but it would’ve been fun // if you would’ve been the one”

“you know the greatest loves of all time are over now // i guess you never know, never know // and it’s another day waking up alone // but we were something, don’t you think so?”

“persist and resist the temptation to ask you // if one thing had been different // would everything be different today // we were something, don’t you think so?”

from cardigan:

“you drew stars around my scars // but now im bleeding // ‘cause i knew you // stepping on the last train // marked me like a bloodstain, i // i knew you // tried to change the ending // peter losing wendy”

“and when i felt like i was an old cardigan // under someone’s bed // you put me on and said // i was your favorite”

“but i knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss // i knew you’d haunt all of my what ifs”

“i knew i’d curse you for the longest time // chasing shadows in the grocery line // i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired // and you’d be standing in my front porch light // and i knew you’d come back to me”

from exile:

“i think ive seen this film before // and i didn’t like the ending // you’re not my homeland anymore // so what am i defending now // you were my town // now im in exile seeing you out”

“im not your problem anymore // so who am i offending now // you were my crown // now im in exile seeing you out”

“so im leaving out the side door // so step right out // there is no amount // of crying i can do for you // all this time // we always walked a very thin line // you didn’t even hear me out (you didn't even hear me out) // you never gave a warning sign (i gave so many signs)”

“all this time // i never learned to read your mind (never learned to read my mind) // i couldn't turn things around (you never turned things around)”

from my tears ricochet:

“and if im on fire // you’ll be made of ashes too // even on my worst day // did i deserve babe // all the hell you gave me?”

“’cause i loved you // i swear i loved you // till my dying day // i didn't have it in myself to go with grace // and you’re the hero flying around saving face // and if im dead to you why are you at the wake // cursing my name // wishing i stayed // look at how my tears ricochet”

“and i can go anywhere i want // anywhere i want // just not home // and you can aim for my heart, go for blood // but you would still miss me in your bones // and i still talk to you // when im screaming at the sky // and when you can’t sleep at night // you hear my stolen lullabies”

“i didn't have it in myself to go with grace // and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves // you had to kill me but it killed you just the same // cursing my name // wishing i stayed // you turned into your worst fears // and you’re tossing out blame // drunk on this pain // crossing out the good years”

from mirrorball:

“ive never been a natural // all i do is try try try // im still on that trapeze // im still trying everything // to keep you looking at me”

from august:

“i remember thinking i had you // but i can see us // lost in the memory // august slipped away into a moment in time // ‘cause it was never mine // and i can see us // twisted in bedsheets // august sipped away like a bottle of wine // ‘cause you were never mine”

“back when we were still changing for the better // wanting was enough // for me, it was enough // to live for the hope of it all”

from this is me trying:

“i didn't know if you’d care if i came back // i have a lot of regrets about that // pulled the car off the road to the lookout // could’ve followed my fears all the way down // and maybe i don't quite know what to say // but im here in your doorway // i just wanted you to know // that this is me trying”

“and my words shoot to kill when im mad // i have a lot of regrets about that”

“ and it’s hard to be at a party // when i feel like an open wound // it’s hard to be anywhere these days // when all i want is you”

from illicit affairs:

“and that’s the thing about illicit affairs // and clandestine meetings // and longing stares // it’s born from just one single glance // but it dies and it dies and it dies // a million little times”

“and you wanna scream // don't call me kid, don't call me baby // look at this godforsaken mess that you made me // you showed me colors you know i can’t see with anyone else”

“don’t call me kid // don’t call me baby // look at this idiotic fool that you made me // you taught me a secret language i can't speak with anyone else // and you know damn well // for you i would ruin myself // a million little times

from invisible string:

“and isn't it just so pretty to think // all along there was some invisible string // tying you to me?”

“something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire // chains around my demons // wool to brave the seasons // one single thread of gold tied me to you”

“hell was the journey but it brought me heaven // time, wondrous time // gave me the blues and then purple pink skies”

from betty:

“but if i just showed up at your party // would you have me // would you want me // would you tell me to go fuck myself // or lead me to the garden?”

“if you kiss me // will it be just like i dreamed it // will it patch your broken wings?”

from peace:

“no, i could never give you peace // but im a fire and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm // if your cascade ocean wave blues come // all these people think love’s for show // but i would die for you in secret”

“would it be enough // if i could never give you peace // your integrity makes me seem small // you paint dreamscapes on the wall // i talk shit with my friends // it’s like im wasting your honor”

“and you know that i’d swing with you for the fences // sit with you in the trenches // give you my wild // give you a child // give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other”

“i'd give you my sunshine // give you my best // but the rain is always gonna come // if you're standing with me”

from hoax:

“stood on the cliffside // screaming give me a reason // your faithless love’s the only hoax i believe in // don’t want no other shade of blue but you // no other sadness in the world will do”

“you knew the hero died // so what’s the movie for // you knew it still hurts underneath my scars // from when they pulled me apart // you knew the password so i let you in the door // you knew you won so what’s the point of keeping score?”

“you knew it still hurts underneath my scars // from when they pulled me apart // but what you did was just as dark // darling, this was just as hard // as when they pulled me apart // my only one // my kingdom come undone // my broken drum // you have beaten my heart

#can’t believe i actually took the time 2 do this #i am so annoying PLS SKSKDJ #stevetony & cherik have a lot of similarities #think xmfc & civil war yknow #so lyrics that work 4 one #usually work 4 the other #stevetony #stony #cherik #xmen #marvel #mcu #taylor swift #folklore #im rly hoping i make some new mutuals from this post #cuz anyone who loves these idiots & also taylor ??#has immaculate taste

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spideyanakin · 4 years

Text

The World Isn’t Quiet Anymore - Part 2; Mae Govannen

Peter Parker x Elf! Reader Lord Of the Rings Au

Chapter 1 - The Fellow Ship Of The Rings

Part 2 ~ Mae Govannen

Series Masterlist 🍒

Normal Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

Barely 48hours had passed since the eleven of you had started your quest to Mordor. You felt like you had been walking for days, but that was something you would never admit to Legolas.

You seemed to be glued to your cousin as you walked through the tight pathways of the forest, the two of you cracking jokes every so often.

Peter looked at the two of you as Legolas crashed to your side sending you crashing into Gimli. Legolas looked at you with an innocent smirk while you and Gimli grumbled, not too happy that the two of you made contact.

"They seem close?" Peter asked Sam as he admired you pilling up leaves on the side of the road, a small amount of jealousy pilling up in his stomach.

Since the council, Peter couldn't take his eyes off you. Your elven traits seemed to attract him like a moth to a flame. Your mysterious elf eyes seemed to chimer in the light of the day and Peter wished he could just get lost in them.

He wanted to get to know you, but Legolas didn't make it any easy. First you would always be glued to each other like magnets and second, he intimidated him so much it made Peter's fear of Sauron disappear. But when he thought about so did but so did you. He felt so small next to the two of you. He had seen what elves could do, and he felt weak and powerless next to forces of natures like you.

"Yeah, they're cousins," Sam said. "But they're more like brother and sister if you ask me." He continued before bringing his eyes back to the road.

"Oh." Peter's face seems to lit up as a weight fell off his stomach as he felt like a ray of sunshine had just lit up his chances with you. He let out a small sigh of releif, Legolas intimidating him a little less then before.

He let his gaze come back to you. You were crawling behind Legolas the pile of leaf in hand. He saw you as you were dropping all the leaves inside his shirt, making his face twist in surprise.

Legolas started jumping up and down trying to remove the leaves from hit attire. He glared at you with a mischievous look as he walked up to a puddle of dirt and threw some on you, accidentally hitting Aragorn on the way.

"Can the two of you stop your acting like children." He said all playfulness in his tone leaving as he wiped the dirt off his face.

You and Legolas looked at him like children who were getting grounded. A flash a fear passed through both your eyes as Aragorn looked more then serious.

"But she started it!" He pointed to you and you scoffed in surprise.

"That's not true!" You stated and jumped in frustration.

"Legolas mea cildë idë" Legola's face fell as Aragorn tried to end this pranking war. You smiled as Aragorn was on your side. You let your tongue out to mock him just to annoy him some more.

"Legolas I saw you."

"Anat-" Legolas pleaded finding it unfair that he was taking the blame.

"But-"

"Legolas." Aragorn warned.

"Y/n" Aragorn turned to you with a warning look telling you to stop making faces at Legolas before he started walking again.

You shoved Legolas's arm one more time before walking across the group to catch up with the Hobbits and Peter.

You gave Peter a small smile and walked towards him. Peter had caught your eyes the second you walked into the council. He looked nothing like any humans you had seen, and you could feel the pureness of his heart.

"Mae Govannen Mellon nin." You greeted with a cheery tone, eying Legolas to make sure he wouldn't prank you again.

"Well met my friend."

"Sorry?" He asked as he turned his head towards you, getting lost in your eyes as you made eye contact.

"It means, well met my friend." You smiled. "It's kind of our way of saying hello," you explained

"I like it." Peter smiled loving the way a smile looked on your face.

"How's the quest treating you so far." You chuckled and quicked a rock.

"Not so bad." He smiled and eyed the road again.

"Glad to know." You looked at the road too, silence falling between the two of you. You let the fresh breeze hit your face as you continued walking, your long elven hair flowing in the wind, sending Peter knees weak for you.

He looked at you one more time, trying to not let his stair linger too much. Peter couldn't get you off his mind and so many questions rised in his mind. First, he wondered how you could look so perfect, you had been walking for almost 12 hours straight and you didn't even look tired, while he was feeling miserable and thought he probably looked like a dead orc.

Peter didn't know much about elves and that intrigued him even more. He knew you were stronger fighters than anyone in this fellowship, and that you were more immortal too.

That sent Peter into a swarm of question on your age, wondering how old you truly were, even tho you looked like you were barely 20 years old. The only true piece of info he had was that Legolas was you older cousin. But Peter had no idea how old the elf prince was.

"A question I always had." Merry walked next to you his hands tight on the strings of his backpack.

"Yes?" You asked with a smile.

"Is eternity boring?" He asked while skipping a step in his walk.

"hmm" You looked up to think. "Good question." You looked back to him. "Well, were pretty patient beings, I guess. Plus the world always moves and changes. I mean Legolas is almost 3000 years old and he's seen a bunch of wars. I mean im barely 2880 and ive seen almost 10 wars, fought in like half of them." You pushed a strand of hair behind your shoulder as if to brag. "Life isn't that boring when your immortal." You remarked and the Hobbit's face fell.

"Hey, I have more than 70 years ahead before I turn 3000, we're only 50 years apart remember." Legolas replied from the the other end of the group.

You chuckled at his remark and continued your walk next to Peter and the Hobbits.

Peter's eye lit up with surprise as he got the answer to his question. You were 2880 but didn't look a day over 20.

As you walked your hand softly brushed Peter's sending sparks to both your arms. Both of you pretended like nothing had happened and continued your road, following where ever Gandalf was taking you.

You brushed your arm with your other hand, the vibrations of Peter's touch still lingering.

"When can we stooppp." Pippin asked dragging his arms on each side of his body.

"We can stop when we're up this hill." Gandalf replied while pointing to the top with his stick.

You heard a grunt from the two little Hobbits as the road was getting steeper. You chuckled at the two of them before you stared at the orange sky.

You woke up being not so comfortable as you were laying under small rocks scattered on the ground. Your eyes fluttered open as you smelled some bacon and sausage being grilled and heard the soft sounds of swords clinking together.

You shifted before standing up, soft chuckles waking you up even more.

"What?" You deadpanned as you turned your head to face Legolas.

"Nothing, just didn't think you would sleep on our first day."

"I needed sleep ok? Just because mister slept right before he was sent to Elrond's council doesn't mean every elf on middle earth has the same sleep cycle as you." You deadpanned and he smiled happily happy he made you mad, before walking away towards the end of the rocks to admire the view.

You grumbled something in Elvish before braiding your hair for the day and folding your covers.

You stretched and drank some water before taking a look around the group. You saw the Pippin and Merry getting trained by Aragorn, as Gandalf was looking at the far off mountains. Sam was cooking and Frodo watching the sword fight. You turned around and saw Peter sitting on a hightop rock, watching the view too. You smiled at the sight and decided to join him.

"Mae Govannen" He said as he stopped you walking towards him.

"Mae Govannen to you too mellon nin" You smiled as you sat down barely a meter away from him.

A peaceful silence fell as you scanned the mountains. You looked back to Peter was opening a pack of Lembas.

"You want some?" He asked you as he handed you a piece.

"Thanks" you took it from him with a smile and took a bite, the familiar taste filling your mouth.

"No problem."

"So tell me, Peter. How's the ocean lands?" You asked taking another bite of Lembas from the small piece he gave you.

"Nice." He shrugged. "Loads of oceans." He smiled.

You chuckled at his joke and shifted in your stop, subconsciously moving closer to him.

"I've been there a few centuries ago." You recalled. "Very nice place. Just wondering if it changed much." you smiled.

Your use of words made Peter stop for a second. He remembered you were more then two thousand years old which hit Peter with nervousness again.

"I don't know if it changed much." You awkwardly chuckled "It's pretty peacfull I guess."

You looked back to him sensing his sudden burst of nervousness.

"You don't have to feel nervous around me Peter. Im just an elf."

"That's the thing. Your so much more skilled than me. You intimidate me so much." You let out a soft burst of laughter.

"Ah, you don't have to worry. Im just like you on the inside. Maybe a little wiser." You winked.

Peter felt himself relax as you made things easy for him. You seemed to always say the right words, making Peter feel in peace with you.

"GET DOWN!" Gandalf screamed as you barely had time to look in front of you before hundreds of birds came flying towards you.

You stepped down the rock in a hurry Peter following right behind you. You accidentally tripped and ended up on the floor on top of Peter.

Your face heated up in a shade of bright red as your faces were barely inches away. You looked up and saw the birds coming right for you, your only safe option being to duck onto Peter.

You looked from the birds to hit face and gave him an apoplectic smile as you dropped your body weight onto his ducking your head in the crook of his neck. Without thinking, Peter placed protecting arms around you waiting for the birds to leave.

The second they left you rolled out onto the floor your face a shade of deep scarlet.

You awkwardly stood up and eyed Legolas who was giving you a weird look from the other side of camp. You ignored it and pretended not to know what he walking about as you fixed your clothes and walked towards your bag.

"Spies of Saruman" Gandalf stated and all eyes were on him except you and Legolas who were sensing something in the wind.

-taglist-

@averyfosterthoughts @emmaloo21 @ifntelyinspirit @slytherinambitious @anapocalypseinmymind @r0binbuckleys

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grimweaver · 4 years

Link

~*~

Lucien and I were met first with a washover of festive sounds in the streets, muffled no longer once the heavy doors of the smith shop groaned outward; a few common percussion and wind instruments playing along with loud, happy-drunk singing, laughing, and cheering. As it had at roughly the same time the previous nights, the air was beginning to thicken with a mostly pleasant mix of the usual scents; smoke billowing from grills and clay ovens, charred and baked goods, perfumes, and hard-partying bodies.

Immediately in front of us was a little more than a dozen laborers that were sent out for us, and standing out amid them was a stout figure— a bosmer with slicked back brown hair, wearing a brown cotton vest over a white peasant shirt that was tucked into dark brown capris, and a pair of doeskin shoes. He gave himself away when he bounced up and down as he pointed at us, shouting: “LOOK! LOOK! LOOK!” It was Dorandil, assuming the role that he had already been playing since the start of it all, except under a different name: Norabil Windthorn. “ BY AZURA! BY AZURA! BY AZURA! It’s the G—!” One of the female workers gave the bosmer a firm and deserving smack upside the head. At least he had enough brain cells to understand the message in the scolding strike and come up with a decent correction. “...Great Dancing Duo !” he finished, rubbing the back of his head, then joined the workers in helping Jahruu and Hennia with their things.

“Ah! Master Atterius and the lovely Lady Nelvani !” the voice of Ocheeva called out from our left. We turned to see four people in bronze scale armor, with burgundy cloth wrapped around their shoulders and faces, and draped over their heads to cast dark shadows over their eyes—not an inch of flesh could be seen.

Each individual called out their name.

From Ocheeva: “Stone-Scale!”

From Teinaava: “Ebon-Claw!”

From Bremman: “Denarius Saxtus!”

From Farwil: “Sreth Rellintilys!”.

In perfect unison, they saluted by pounding their right fists against their chests, bowing their heads, and shouting together: “ At your service! ”

It attracted some attention from some celebrants nearby. Those who understood that the masked man was Atterius whirled completely around and cheered ecstatically as they pointed at him. Lucien gave them a smile and wave, then urged us all to get a move on before some real crazies started coming out of the woodworks to commence a blocking and grappling frenzy— that was part of the reason why he wanted us to leave so early. The other part was the fifteen-minute walk quickly becoming a forty-minute one— there was very little flow control on the public grounds, so the pathways had become a jumbled mess far worse than anything we had encountered before— people, shoulder to shoulder, jumping and bumping into each other as they threw marigold petals into the air and at each other. The vendors were a bit more aggressive in their efforts to grab attention from people walking by—instead of just sitting behind a counter, they were actually getting in front of people and intentionally blocking their path. Thankfully, our ‘bodyguards’ did an excellent job of getting a pathway cleared for us and shielding us from an onslaught of zealous Atterius fans.

When we got through the bulk of the crowd, just a little ways past the Guild Traders, a cool flush of gratefulness went through my being and relieved the swell of rage mixed with nausea— our amusement of the inner-city partying had disintagrated when we entered the outer rim of the bulk, where the cloud of stagnant air had a mild undertone of bile, curry flatulence, and undiluted beer-sweat.

“Thank All the Powers !” I blasted as I gasped for air. I owed gratitude to military aquatics training as well, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hold my breath for 2-3 minutes at a time. “A second longer in all of that and one of you would be wearing my eggs and bacon!”

“T’h-h-yeah!” Farwil chuckled with a cough. “Agh… I think we’d all have worn each other’s breakfasts!”

“There they are,” Lucien said, pointing to a group gathered near the first lamppost beyond the market square. All but one kept their gaze fixed on the plateau ahead— an effeminate male with long and wavy platinum-blonde hair, wearing a robe made of quilted white silk, jeweled rings on every finger, layers of necklaces made of gold and glass beads, and a steel-plated belt over a dark red sash. He motioned to the rest and pointed back at us. “By the Black Nights of Boralis! What breathtaking beauty!” he cried out, and that’s when I knew who it was: Vicente!

“Speak for yourself… Fabiere ,” Lucien replied, suppressing a chuckle he looked him up and down.

“Oh!” Vicente blasted, grappling at the shirt of his robe. “Are you talking about this old thing?? It’s so-o-o-o last week. And this sand-caked bird nest that used to be lovely locks of pure sunshine??” He fussed with his hair and looked at it with feigned disgust, before daintily slapping it away from his face with a light, hauty grunt. “I am rather embarrassed by it all… but thank you!”

There was an eruption of laughter all around, even Lucien couldn’t hold back his. Vicente was doing a good job of getting into his character.

“Astaunne is right,” Gabrelle said. “You two look amazing !”

The whole group voiced their agreement.

“Indeed… Nine still my heart,” Farwil said, “you… um… no others among us… could accentuate the finery so well.”

“Thank you, Sreth,” I replied, trying not to think about all the unshareable things that were probably going through his head, and turned to face him directly. “ Please … promise me that you’ll stick to the plan and remember everything instilled in you...by… um… your training at the Fighters Guild—our survival depends on it.”

“I’ll promise to try ,” Farwil replied, returning the back-pat in a respectful friend-and-comrade sort of way that did not give me the creepy-crawly cringes. “I’ll do what I must, if I have to do it. I’ll not forget the good point you made… about… our ‘top priority’.”

“Ah… right. Well that’s… good.” I sighed. “I just… that thing I was going to tell—“

I was interrupted by Lucien nudging me with his hip.

“What??” I snarled at the Speaker, and I was cheeky enough to glare up at him too. “I wasn’t going to actually say it yet.”

“Say what?” Farwil asked.

“Never you mind now. Just… just try to stay alive, please… please. I will… I will tell you after uh… our ‘performance’.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I sensed confusion and annoyance rising in him again. But he nodded and replied, “Alright.”

“Let us be on our way ,” Lucien said, this time using an insistent tone of voice to nudge me, and gestured for me to hook my left arm around his right. With noble grace, I accepted his arm and kept deep beneath the surface an immense thrill over its feel.

“Atterius, ” Farwil seethed.

“For the sake of appearances, sir,” Lucien whispered to him. “Please... do permit me.” Even then he preserved diplomatic humility, conscious of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary’s dependence on the Dark Brotherhood’s good relationship with House Indarys.

“Agh-h-h-fine,” Farwil replied. I sensed there was more he wanted to add to that, perhaps something similar to what he had said before back in Taneth: “Just don’t forget what I told you back in Cheydinhal!” But he probably remembered that I was short on patience with his threatening words towards LaChance and swallowed them.

~*~

Where the road began to curve towards Sentinel’s northwest entrance, we joined the steady stream of guests and entertainers making their way up the wide sandstone walkway that was built into the side of the plateau. Most arrived on rickshaws, elephants, camels, and horses, but our unit remained on foot— one of the things that Atterius was known for was his humbleness.

We were cheered on by crowds of people lining the path to the gates of Surraiah’s property. Bursts of marigold petals, several dozen at a time, flew out from people's hands and cascaded from the treetops and the ledge of the cliff wall. I almost wished I had taken my sandals off, thinking about what a wonderful textural experience it would’ve been to feel the supple flower petals crunch beneath my feet. I was distracted from the temptation by the massive drums and horn instruments blaring from the center of Surraiah's party, which could be heard from a mile in every which way; it lifted my spirits up to a height untouched by the fears that had me minutes ago, or any regard to the true identity and reality that I had left at the doors of the smith shop. I felt as though I was truly becoming the person that I was pretending to be, to the point of not giving any second thought to tightening my grip on LaChance’s l arm and giving the parent shoulder a few affectionate pats to express to him my excitement over a welcome fit for royalty.

“Enjoying yourself, Lady Nelvani?” Lucien asked, drawing up a small grin as he mildly gave return pats to the forearm hooked around his right.

“Damn right I am!” I cried out, bouncing a bit like a school-aged child as I waved back at the crowd. “Come on, Atterius! Let yourself be raptured up into the moment! We might never know a night like this again!”

“Actually… we might .”

My head snapped from the crowd and to Lucien’s masked face. “Oh? What—?”

“Hush, now,” Lucien barked through his teeth as he faked a smile, giving a quick nod to the upper end of the walkway. “We’re almost there. Get your head out of the clouds and focus on the task at hand.”

“My mind can occupy multiple places at the same time,” I argued. “Stop worrying.”

Lucien’s head whipped around and I could feel the heat of his intense scowl permeating through the mask.

I corrected myself. “I mean… yes, sir .”

We all kept an outward calm as we reached the top and followed the line of guests, but I’m sure I wasn’t the only one with a head full of hornets, watching the guards without blinking or breathing as the distance between us and them shortened, two people at a time. Whenever I felt the surface give slightly to the pressure, I smiled and acted as though the shakes were caused by sheer admirition of Surraiah’s home; the grandeur and mesmerizing details in the moulds, ceilings, and floors that spoke of a wealth that had been accumulated and preserved throughout generations.

“What’s with all the extra security??” asked someone ahead of us.

“A necessary precaution; that’s all we’re at liberty to say,” answered one of the guards, holding a clipboard up to the couple’s faces. “Negative. Move along, and enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you!”

To ease my mind, I turned my attention to the beautiful multicolored metal embellishments along the wall made of sun-bleached sandstone. But just as I was beginning to relax, Farwil gave my arm several frantic jabs with his elbow.

“What, Sreth??” I snapped at him, at a volume just under that of the surrounding clamour.

“Remnants… all of them,” he hissed.

“Remnants? You mean… daedra ?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?? How can you tell??”

“It’s something they all wear to generate an illusion. I’ll explain later… when or if I can.”

I nodded, then turned to Lucien. “Did you hear what Sreth said?” I asked him.

“Of course I did," Lucien answered, phenomenally calm. "I hope he’s mistaken… but… he's likely to be right.”

"Do you think that means… you-know-who is also here?"

"It might. But that doesn't change anything. Do not, under any circumstances, deviate from the plan unless I instruct you to. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

(CONTINUED)

#the elder scrolls #tes oblivion #lucien lachance #elder scrolls stories #the dark brotherhood

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svankmajerbaby · 4 years

Text

ok so

warrior nun has consumed my brain so here I Will Express My Thots Regarding It

probably spoilers i guess

so what i wanna talk about specifically is about the characters, which is really what sold me on the show (besides the gorgeous cinematography and the fact i went to andalucia on january and i recognize a lot of places and churches ive been to and i love watching it)

so first, of course, Ava: i think shes one of my new favorite characters, ever?? not only does she have Big Bi Vibes, shes actually really good at balancing snarky-coping-mechanism-humor. her narration and flashbacks do a great job at explaining just how much of it she had to use to cope with the awful nun that cared for her in the orphanage; as she said, its "small victories" to mock and insult the woman who verbally abuses her. but, besides that, humour is also a bonding mechanism, too: little is said of Diego, who was Avas closest friend for probably most of her life. it explains to a certain point why she has a bit of a childish side, but it also shows just how empathic she is and her relative ease to make friends. then. theres the issue that some of my favorite types of protagonists are those who may be tortured, may be sheltered (idk) but who manage to keep fighting on, love life and are in awe of it, remain positive and even spread their positivity to others. i really like when these characters have a clear enthusiasm -im so bored of dismissive, snarky, nihilist protagonists -but Ava is like. a ray of sunshine. her happiness at being out of the orphanage, at being free and able to experience everything is so contagious, i kept smiling through the first few episodes. even later in the season she finds the humour in any situation, she remains amazed by what her fellow warriors can do, and just. shes a goddamn delight. i love her and love how she grows from an overexcited teenager running for her life and evading her responsability to accepting her role as a saviour -and even willing to die to stop the cycle of "chosen ones" halo bearers.

and now Mary. my god, Mary. shes just a type of character i hadnt seen before and i didnt know i would love so much. her first appearance is crying as her best friend (and maybe something else??) dies in her arms. for the rest of the series Mary will be characterized as The Badass, a title she readily accepts. but shes also vulnerable and willing to expose herself and her emotions in order to bond with others -while also wary of being manipulated through them, as in the fight on the docks with Lilith. Mary is just a beautiful combination of this softness and kindness that has to be balanced with the fight for survival; she came from such painful places, being forced to struggle to stay alive: and yet she isnt afraid of love, of being loved: she is a realist, deeply aware of the circumstances she is in, but this doesnt deter her from ever doing the moral thing, to protect others, to fight for them and not only for herself. the fact theres a whole episode dedicated to her bonding with Ava, talking about her life and her deeds, makes it obvious to me that she is The character who mostly embodies the values of the Order of the Cruciform Sword -quite ironic, since while she is a member, she isnt one of the ordained nuns. that independence she has kind of defines her character, too -smart enough to know not to trust the church and to also fight alongside her friends for what she believes in.

and so we come to Lilith. the original Chosen One. she exists in a world defined by purpose and sacrifice: she has seen how the Warrior Nuns end up killed, and still she wants this -to be basically a martyr in a "holy war" -because not only is it her birthright, what she had been raised for her entire life, what her family has been doing for generations -but also because it is her purpose. that is her sole destiny, the only thing she sees herself fit for. this doesnt mean she is evil, though, or self-centered. its true that Lilith can be too one-track-minded, to the point of being able to kill; but she clearly views her being the Warrior Nun, the Halo Bearer, as the only way to ensure the continuity of the community and to save the world. her whole life has been consumed by this "holy war"; and, by what Mary said, its something that her pride has been feeding ever since Shannon was chosen instead of her. she should be the one. she should have the honor to suffer and die for the world. and this is her tragedy, to be honest: despite having friends, despite being loved by her fellow nuns, she feels she needs to be this hero for her life to make sense. it has been her entire life. and when someone else took that purpose from her, everything that is left is anger and anguish.

and this is a nice segway to Beatrice, whos just. while Mary is what a Nun of the OCS should be, and Lilith is what she thinks a Nun of the OCS should be, Beatrice is what a Nun of the OCS probably is most of the time. someone who, while not as self sacrificing as Lilith, is completely devoted to her life in the Order. and, as she explains, most of the nuns are much like herself: hiding past lives, cloaking secrets, trying to find a purpose in the community where they can devote their lives to something greater than themselves. its a way of coping, of keeping on, of finding love and friendship and happiness alongside girls like them. but Beatrice is one of those who arent as hidden and reserved: she yearns for understanding, for a friendship that goes deeper than surface level. this is not an attempt to diminish her relationships with her other friends; she displays the capacities of a good leader, and clearly values her fellow nuns. but theres a clear pattern of her shutting off vulnerabilities in order to be the best at what she does -overachieving, in a way -not with the intent of fulfilling a purpose, like Lilith, but to be seen as "good". as she tells Ava in that magnificent scene, Beatrice comes from a conservative background from where she had learnt to hide everything that could be seen as improper, as bad. she fights the hardest and stays the strongest because she cannot let herself fail: if she is exposed, if her flaws are revealed and her emotions uncovered, she risks her place in the community -where she has built her entire life around, where she managed to escape from her previous life. and so her story is one of opening up, of learning to go that extra step and allowing herself to cry, to be soft, to be vulnerable with others, to share her fears instead of masking them.

finally, none of these issues seem to be a problem for Camila. i dont have a lot to say about her because i think shes still got room to grow as a character, but i like how shes simultaneously "the kid" of the group, and the smartest one from a technological standpoint. shes probably the one who finds the OCS a place of friendship and community, just like Beatrice, while also being a place of deep, untapped knowledge. she is very interested in studying the history or the Order, of knowing what is the divinium, of how the Warrior Nun comes to be. she is not afraid to be vulnerable, nor to be honest about her thoughts and feelings: i feel she is the one who closest follows Mary's example. shes just less focused, less trained, less finely tuned as the rest of the nuns. and still she manages to be a really good fighter, so im just really excited to see where her character will go next.

#warrior nun #some other day ill dissect a few other aspects i liked like shot composition and foreshadowing and stuff

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kaitlynpcallmebeepme · 5 years

Text

I’ll Fight For You

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Fight scene, explosions, hurt descriptions, starving self, swearing I think, nursing organ facts (tell me if you think of any more), fluff, and a hint of angst

A/N: This is the work I have for @keepingupwiththeparkers for her 4,000 follower writing challenge.

#kuwtp4kwc

Thinking about making an origin story for Gargoyle. The good title I thought of I want to save for my series. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Requests are open and Messages are open if you want to chat. The gifs came from google, so credit goes to the person who made them. I don’t own Gargoyles the show either.

Background: Only slight endgame spoilers for this description. In my world, Carol snapped the gauntlet to kill Thanos and made it through the time machine, but left the mind and time stone so they could bring Vision back and returned the soul stone to save Natasha, and Steve didn't go back in time. Avengers Tower was bought back until the compound could be rebuilt and remained as a kind of a base since Queens is closer to the tower than the compound.

Tag list: Send me an ask if you want to be added.

@trashinaglass and @peter-pan-hoe ♡

Dialogue prompt:

8. “I thought I’d lost you”

Word count: 1,860

The intel was terrible at best. When have you ever heard of a hydra agent defecting. That didn't matter anymore. What mattered is that your team, the Avengers, got the intel about chemical weapons Hydra was developing and get out of the base as quickly as possible.

Taking revenge on the people who tortured you is one of the sweetest things ever. You were Y/n. Last name you never knew. Part of a species of bat-human hybrids that you were the sole survivor of, thanks to hydra of course. Mainly a human body with slightly pointed ears, retractable claws, an echolocation trackability, better hearing, sharp teeth, bat-shaped wings protruding from your back, skin that can turn to stone, and slight healing powers, which were amplified if you turned completely to stone for some time. You took the name Gargoyle after Peter showed you The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It was his job to catch you, Steve, and Bucky up on all of the pop culture stuff you missed.

You and Peter had the bottom floor almost cleared with the task of searching for hostages. You liked the curly-haired nerd. You two were around the same age when the Avengers raided the Hydra base you were kept captive in. He was the one to hoist your bloody body over his shoulders and carry you out of there. You both valued stealth and sticking to ceilings. You both often trained together and we're interested in both of your talents, yours of which was blacksmithing and Anatomy. You both tested your powers to see how far you could push each other and discover what your limits were. Peter could spend an hour upside-down before he started to feel fatigued and your healing ability worked better if you have a lot of what was hurt. For example, a kidney would heal a lot faster than a heart because there are two kidneys and one heart.

Okay, back to the mission. No hostages or test subjects have been found as you and Peter kept making your way around your floor. It was mainly storage rooms with few people in the hallways. Not as exciting for you, but you didn't want to go into a room where you two couldn't handle what was inside.

You and Peter got on the ceiling in front of the last room you had to check off your floor. When all of a sudden the door burst open on its own and the air was filled with bullets. Two big guys with miniguns. TWO?!?! Normally it would be one and a lot of smaller henchmen covering him. You looked at Peter for some silent sign of a game plan. He drew a 'Z' with his fingers and pointed to his web shooter. Then made the cracking fist motion with his hands. You nodded and made a silent prayer that this worked because you hated having to play fair when taking out minigunners. Peter shot the two guys with taser webs, which brought them both to the floor. You two then dropped down and started going ham on betting these two up. You just hit the back of their head until their occipital lobe knocked out their vision. Fury would be by later to arrest everyone, but you wanted to make sure they stayed down. You cut up their arms and legs a bit just so it would make it difficult for any of the men to escape. You disarmed the miniguns and Peter webbed down the guys as best as he could.

"Wonder what they were guarding?"

"I don't know Gargoyle, but we better be careful."

You gently pushed the door open revealing a planning room covered in blueprints. Some were for cannons and others were for what looked like experiments. Turning humans into other creatures, which in turn would be used for Hydra.

"Make sure to have Karen scan all these."

Before you could analyze the plans in front of you, you were knocked to the ground. Your body went into full fight mode preparing to stab whoever tackled you. Good thing your mind caught up to your instincts and realized it was Peter who was on top of you. Your senses were thrown off as all you could hear was bullet shells hitting the ground and an AK-47 going on full blast. You extended your arm and hit a button to make a small sharp disc fly out from above your wrist. The disk shot under the table and took the last man standing down. You kicked the gun away and gave the guy a few scars with your Assassin's Creed wrist knives.

It was only then when you realized that Peter didn't get up. He was groaning in the middle of the floor where you left him. He was on his side, but you could see the number of bullets in his left side. You turned Peter over and realized he's bleeding a lot faster than he should be.

"Hit near the pancreas and spleen. Shit." If there was one thing you remembered from all your time studying Anatomy, it was those two organs have a lot of blood going through them. "Nonononono. Kid, you gotta stay with me. You gotta stay awake." You hit his face a bit to keep him conscious.

You didn't want to move him because that could make it worse and you were definitely not qualified to remove bullets on a battlefield from an advanced human. So you did the next best thing. You held the button on your earpiece. "Code Blue. Underoos's been hit. I repeat. Code Blue. Underoos's been hit."

"What? Where are you guys?" Tony's panicked voice wasn't helping your demeanor.

"Basement; in a room full of blue-." Your eyes grew wide for a split second as you saw the guy who shot Peter with a grenade in his hand and his thumb in the ring.

"Hail Hydra."

You didn't have time to think. You scooped up Peter and ran as fast as you could before the pin could be pulled. You both barely made it to the doorway before the whole room exploded. You wings protected the two of you from most of the flames, didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"Kids, you ok?" There came the Dad voice from Clint again. Clint, you liked to call the perfect mix of sass and fatherly advise.

You slowly lifted your wings but kept them up to keep the rubble dust out of your eyes. You looked over at Peter who you could tell was still losing consciousness. "We're fine. The basement's clear. I can run him back to the quinjet and rush him to the medbay of you guys can meet me there."

"We're done here. Everyone meet at the jet and we're rushing the kid back. Do you need cover?" Natasha was one of the few people to keep Tony's mind straight besides Pepper.

"No. I can run him back up. The basement's clear." Just as I scooped Peter back up and started to run to the stairs, remote turrets came online. "Of people."

Your bare feet skidded across the dirty floor as you made a break for the Northwest stairs while trying to avoid the bodies that littered the floor. Your wings covered you both, but the bullets that hit your legs still hurt. Your heart pounded in your ears as the only person you were worried for was Peter. Did he lose too much blood? Was his body healing around the bullets? Would he ever wake up from this? You pushed your thoughts to the back of your head and focused on running.

The snow of Ireland made your bare feet bleed, but you were numb to pain at this point as you layed Peter down in the jet. You tried to focus all of your healing energy to your hands, but it wasn't helping. You just decided to step back and let Bruce and Tony try their hardest to help as F.R.I.D.A.Y flew you back to the tower.

They took Peter to the Intensive Care Unit and only when they gave him a transfusion of blood and took all 12 bullets out of his side were you allowed to see him. He had a slight concussion and his face was bruised from the fall. You couldn't do anything to help him but hold his hand with the IV still in.

"Do you remember when we met? It was my first day. Still getting used to the compound. You were hanging from the ceiling as I was quenching a blade in the garage and scared the shit out of me I almost left the blade too long in the oil. I was a mess then. Still thinking that I was undeserving of love. That hydra had used me too much that I wasn't worth anything anymore. Even before Hydra my parents never made me feel good about myself." A shaky breath left your cut lip as you let tears silently slip out. "You're too good for this world Peter. You go out of your way for the little guy. You made me realize no matter how many people kick you in the jaw, even if it's one person or just yourself that wants you to keep going, you get the hell back up. I am that now for you. Please wake up. Please. Just don't be dead. Please." You were crying waterfalls at that point that any words you tried to make came out shaky.

"You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me ha... ha-ppy

When skies are gray

You'll never know dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

God please don't take

My sunshine away."

A week he was asleep. A week too long. His body was healing fine and fast. His brain just needs to realize he's ok and wake up. May visited a lot and talked to you. She felt like another mother to you. In fact, all the women you met through the Avengers were your mother. Well, Shuri was a little older than you, so she's your older sister. You refused to eat and got ticked off at anyone who tried to get you to. Of course you couldn't die, but starving was slow and it hurt. Eventually, Wanda had to put you in a dreamlike trans in order for them to put an IV in you. You couldn't leave Peter, you couldn't.

One morning you woke up from the side of Peter's bed and saw his eyes open and him sitting up.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I woke up in the night and the nurse brought me water and said you haven't left me since I got here." His hand went up and whipped away a tear that you didn't realize was falling.

"You got me there Parker. Don't ever scare me like that again. I thought I'd lost you."

"I won't and you can't get rid of me that easily." He kissed your forehead as you kept smiling through the tears. "Now we better eat before we get suffocated in Aunt May and Mr. Star's hugs."

"Agreed."

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