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shouldershimmycity · 2 years

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Helium - Pt. 3 (Hangman x Mitchell-Reader)

Maverick never thought he would have children. Then he finds out he has a daughter, and he has to decide whether or not he wants to be a part of her life. But first, he has to get her out of enemy territory with the help of the man who will fall for her.

TW: Torture, biting someone's ear off, vague description of vomiting, discussion of child abandonment, screaming match, things get thrown, I make characters cry a lot and I need to write more fluff I'm sorry.

Inspired by the song Helium by Sia.

Prologue Part 1 Part 2

I'm so excited for this chapter, I think the one scene in here is one of my favorites I've written.

*****

Hands disgustingly slithered across your body, and you spat in the soldier’s face.

“Keep your hands off me, you slimy rat!” you warned, and the soldier simply laughed in your face. You were tied to a chair, he could do whatever he wanted to do to you.

“Or what?” his heavily accented voice was playful when he leaned in close to your ear. He immediately regretted it.

Teeth closed down on his left ear, and with a sharp tearing motion it was gone; his hands flying up to grasp at the now bloody area. It’s a fun fact to know that only seven pounds of pressure can rip your ear clean off. Clearly that was something he was never told, since his ear was spat out onto the cement floor by an indignant Mayhem.

Swearing in his language, the backside of his hands connected with your cheeks repeatedly. His blood smeared across your face with every blow, and eventually, mercifully, the other soldiers pulled him off.

The pain was blinding, and through every breath, you focused on the ceiling above; wet water marks staining the top of the room.

They wanted to know everything you knew, but you weren't going to crack. Your head lifted once more to see one of his affiliates with a knife in his hand. Panicking, you struggled against your bonds while he approached you, and the tip of the knife just pierced your skin as you took in a deep breath, steeling yourself for the sting.

Jolting up in bed, your heart was pounding a mile a minute, and your intestines felt like they were roller skating in your gut. The images from your dream flashed across your mind once again, and feet pounded on the hardwood floor until you found the small trashcan next to the desk in your house, stomach lurching. Pushing the trash can away after emptying what remained in your stomach into it, you grimaced.

It had been a couple nights since you had a nightmare, thankfully, but it was still hard to deal with. You had begun looking for a therapist, but your mother had interfered and dismissed one who was interested in having a session. She believed you didn’t need help, and that she could do the job herself; but you refused to share anything with her. The mission was scheduled for the end of the week, and that hardly helped your nerves. The top pilots in any F-22 detachment in the Air Force were arriving tomorrow evening, and you had to make sure they were able to not only fly with the Dagger Squadron, but get along with them. At the very least, they had to be nice to each other. How you were going to do that, you didn’t know

*****

“A… barbecue?” Maverick looked at you from the podium. Before the briefing for the day, you had presented your idea to him to get some feedback.

“Yeah, I have a few lawn games at the rental house, a relatively big yard, and I think it’s a fairly laid back capacity where people can get to know each other a little more personally. It’s hard getting thrown into something like this, but I figure maybe it’ll help break the ice. We only have a few days left,” your eyes were round with pleading and Maverick couldn’t help his small chuckle.

“I think that sounds like a fantastic idea, we played dogfight football as a team building exercise during our last training,” he explained, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Dogfight football?” you asked, and looked over to the door which had just opened. Rooster, Hangman, and Coyote all walked into the room, chatting about something animatedly.

“Good morning, how would you guys feel about playing dogfight football again?” Maverick asked, and the guys whooped. You raised your hands in surrender.

“I’ll let you take the wheel with that one, Mav. But give it back to Jesus when you can,” you laughed and Rooster snorted. Hangman had to agree with you on that one.

“Said everyone, all the time,” he commented, winking at you, and Mav huffed.

“Dogfight football it is, Pops,” you grinned.

Later, after training for the day had concluded, the clock read 15:00, and you opened the door to the briefing room, Scythe and Beegee walked through first, followed by Maverick, and then you waddled along behind them like a small child. In the grand scheme of it all, let’s not lie, that’s pretty much what you were. Scythe spoke for everyone to sit.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, you’ve been called to Top Gun to fly for a special mission with the Navy, as I’m sure you have heard from the grapevine, there was a hostage situation with a rogue faction of the enemy’s military. Their base is going to be weaponized at the end of the week. Your job will be to fly alongside the Dagger Squadron and give them air support in the F-22. Your aircraft is more technologically advanced than the F/A-18. That being said, these are some of the best dogfighters our nation has to offer. Two teams will be deployed. One will be bomb runners for the base, to ensure destruction of the target. The other will be in charge of destroying the weapons en route to the target. To our knowledge, there is nothing nuclear involved. Captain Mitchell will be mission leader for the Daggers, and Lieutenant Bailey will lead the F-22’s, now known as the Sabre Squadron. I understand that there are Captains amongst you, and you will outrank Lieutenant Bailey, but you are to treat her as the senior aviator for this mission,” Scythe concluded, and you couldn’t help but notice one gentleman sizing you up. He must be the Captain involved, and he didn’t look too pleased. Maverick sensed something off about him, as did Mayhem, but neither said anything.

“Lieutenant Bailey, the floor is yours,” Scythe stepped back and you clapped your hands together, clasping them warmly.

“Welcome! I understand that we have a few days here, and I have no doubt that we will be successful in this mission. That being said, I will be hosting a small assembly where there will be refreshments available and team building exercises will be performed. In layman’s terms, there’s a barbecue at my house tonight with games. The Dagger Squadron will be present, so please, I invite all of you to get to know them. It’s been a pleasure flying with them thus far.” Murmurs of approval swept through the room, and you were already feeling much more confident in yourself.

Maverick smiled at the conclusion of your speech, and everyone was dismissed for the day. You hoped everyone would show up, as the success of the mission relied on good teamwork. At the very least, you hoped that the Air Force and the Navy could work well together.

*****

Wheezing, you couldn’t get the rest of your story past your damn lips, and Maverick looked like he was about to cry from laughing, little noises leaving the man's mouth. You were pretty sure the sound coming out of your own mouth resembled a duck, but it didn’t matter as you were more concerned with the cramping in your abdomen. He had come over to help you set up for the evening, and when you both had finished you tossed him a beer, which turned into two, then three. You were waiting on Rooster to bring the meat and veggie burgers for the grill that Payback offered to man for the evening.

The door to your rental house opened, and your mom stepped onto the porch. She was visiting you for a few days here, and by visiting that meant she had called you insisting you pick her up from the airport after she had already arrived. You stood, belly laughs still making their way past your lips. It was completely possible you were a little drunk.

“Ah, Maverick! This is my mother, Emily Bailey, Mom this is Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell,” you introduced them, and he kindly shook her hand for show. She however, returned it stiffly.

“Maverick,” she greeted cooly, and you took notice of it.

“Mom, don’t be rude,” you demanded, surprised at her attitude.

“You’ll have to excuse us, sir. We have plans this evening that require our attention,” her smile was tight lipped. You tucked a strand of hair away from your face, confusion written all over your features.

“Mom, I’m having a get together here. I invited the two squadrons over for burgers and dogs? Remember?” you reasoned. She rolled her eyes at your perfectly reasonable tone.

“Must have slipped my mind, you’ll have to cancel,” her words were matter of fact, and you were growing irritated with her. As per usual.

“I’m not canceling an hour and a half before everyone gets here, Mom,” you told her, picking up your bottle from the wicker coffee table and taking a sip as she turned to you.

“Can I speak to you in the kitchen?” her words were direct and her tone was harsh, clearly bothered by Maverick’s presence.

“Why are you being so rude?! I was just having a drink with Maverick! Why are you so fucking defensive today?!” you accused her, slamming your bottle down onto the table.

“You know what?! Fine. You don’t want to spend time with your mother? That’s okay, you can spend time with your deadbeat father instead! Fine by me!” she snapped, storming past you and into the house.

Freezing, you couldn’t help staring after her and processing what she had just said. Your eyes bore into Maverick’s heart for the tiniest second, before rapidly following your mother into the house. Maverick followed behind you guiltily.

“What did you say?” you asked her to clarify.

“You heard me,” she said, putting groceries away. The anger began to bubble in your stomach, and you were truly afraid of what you might do.

“I– I don’t think I did, mom,” your words were still confused, but defensive.

“What? You didn’t hear me say that, yes, Maverick is your father? He’s known this whole time, dear. Get with the program,” she spat. You looked at Maverick, who stared at your mother in hurt and disgust.

“That’s not tru–,” he began but you held your hand up to cut him off. His expression was that of a hurt little puppy, but it made your blood boil.

“Office is down the hall to the left, sit there until I am ready to deal with you,” your voice was now colder than anything he’d heard from a person before, and he did as he was told. Truly you didn’t mean to be that harsh, but you were reeling. When the door closed behind him, you turned back to your mother, who stared at you in deadly silence for half a minute.

“Why didn’t you tell me who he was?” you imposed the question upon her, voice dark.

“I most certainly did tell you, you probably just didn–” she was sharply cut off by the pickle jar she had just bought flying across the room and shattering against the brick wall, the pungent liquid splattering everywhere.

“No! You don’t get to pin this shit on me, woman! I know that you didn’t tell me,” you began, inching closer to her, her genuine surprise only fueling the fire, “You knew this entire time, and you never thought to tell me more than the bare minimum?! You DEPRIVED ME OF A FATHER!” your voice raised so high that the grit presented itself. The sound was terrifying, and your mother had never seen you behave this way before. Her eyes flicked in the direction that Maverick had left in, but your own gaze never wavered.

“I am sick and tired of you gaslighting me and pretending like I’m a stupid little girl! You fucking lied to me because you didn’t want me to have another parent in my life who you couldn’t control! You deprived me of all the things that kept me heartbroken as a kid! You wanna talk about blame?! How FUCKING dare you! YOu,” you poked her in the chest, hard, “are responsible for a LOT of shit! Shit that I’m tired of taking the brunt of! SO get! The fuck! OUT OF HERE!” you practically roared at the woman who was now trembling beneath your gaze, and she grabbed her purse to leave as expediently as she could. The front door slammed shut, and the only thing that remained in the kitchen was the stench of dill pickle juice all over the floor. You didn’t register how violent you had been until after the door had closed, which was only another thing you were dealing with since your retrieval from enemy territory. Everything irritated you, and your reaction to it was all too strong. Basking in the stillness of her departure, your hands trembled irrepressibly with the rage you felt.

Your head was pounding, blood roaring in your ears and Maverick stood in the doorway once more. When the pickle jar had hit the wall, he had come running back out to make sure no one was hurt. He had seen everything, and the guilt he felt was immense. He’d seen that rage before, the trauma he experienced from Goose’s death caused him to fly off the handle on more than one occasion. Just ask Sundown. He recalled the way he had grabbed the RIO by his flight suit and growled in his face. Now, he couldn’t help but stare at you, silent, white knuckled and gripping the counter to ground your own fury. Taking a deep breath, you turned to clean up the glass but your legs turned to jello and Maverick caught you when you stumbled and fell to your knees. He kneeled before you, brushing your hair flat to your head in comfort; eye level with you. How could you have not seen the resemblance when now it was plain as day? You pushed his hands away from you.

“No. NO!” you insisted he stop touching you and being near you. “Stop.”

“Please, let me explain—“

“NO!”

“I am so sorry,” his words were little more than a whisper, and you stopped fighting him as he wiped the angry tears that now spilled over onto your cheeks. Shaking, your breathing was nothing shy of hyperventilation now.

“Why didn’t you want me?” the heartbreak in the sobbed question was evident, and it put Mav’s own heart through the wringer. It was no longer Mayhem speaking, but the inconsolable little girl who cried at the back of the class when everyone else was making father’s day cards for their dads, because hers had nowhere to go but the garbage. The little girl who picked the only thing she had ever made for him out of the goddamn trash. Pete felt every bit of that heartbreak from his own childhood, and it was fresh now knowing he couldn’t change it for his little girl.

“Why weren’t you there when I needed you? I needed you, Mav..”

“I never knew about you until the extraction,” he confessed, his own eyes beginning to drop tears, “I promise you, I had no idea. I found out, then I didn’t know how to tell you, and then we were put together for this mission. I didn’t know if you wanted me in your life after all this time. If I could go back, I would have told you immediately, because I see now that I was wrong.” He tucked your hair behind your ear lovingly, “If I had known, I would have been there for every sports game, ballet recital, graduation, heartbreak, birthday, and Father’s Day that you could imagine! I would have been there for all of it, but I was never given the chance, and for that I am so so sorry, May. I’m so sorry,” You were sobbing into his shoulder now, and despite the gut wrenching pain you felt whole.

“I’m so sorry, Mav, I’m so sorry,” your voice was thick with tears, and you shakily huffed when Maverick squeezed you into a comforting hug, telling you you had nothing to apologize for and shushing you like a toddler who had a nightmare. You were finally with your dad, but you wondered why you had to lose so much time with him. Looking over at the pickles that were strewn all over the floor and mixed in with glass, you smiled through the tears.

“I got pickles all over my kitchen,” the sobbed words turned into laughter as you looked at the little green things, and Maverick chuckled as well and wiped his own tears.

“Go clean yourself up, I’ll take care of the pickles,” Maverick stood, kissing the top of your head, “Do you still want people over?” You nodded, and took the hand he offered to help you off the floor to go splash cold water on your face in the bathroom. You had just changed your clothes when the doorbell rang. Peeking out your bedroom window, you saw Maverick open the door for Bradley holding the food, who was blissfully ignorant of what had just taken place in your house.

Everyone arrived soon after, and although Hangman had questioned your demeanor, you assured him you were just fine and plastered on a fake smile. Sometimes, it was real; like when Moose, a massive Air Force Pilot from Alaska challenged Coyote to an arm wrestling contest. Dogfight football was ingenious, and you had patted Maverick on the back for that one. Separately, Maverick had told Rooster what happened, and asked him to keep a look out for your mother, in case she tried to come back and make a scene. Throughout the whole evening he had an eye on the driveway or the door, which kept you calm to know it was taken care of. Once everyone had departed, you, Hangman, Rooster, and your father were sitting in your kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Mav asked, and Rooster was right behind him offering the same. After all, you were basically his sister now. You three had decided to keep the recent development quiet, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention right before training.

“I’ll be okay, the police station is right down the road in case something happens,” you encouraged, and he nodded. He and Rooster gave you hugs before saying their goodnights and goodbyes to you and Hangman, who wanted to spend more time helping you clean (which was really just an excuse to stay longer). Once the door was closed, the interrogation began.

“So, you’ve been off tonight. What’s going on?” He was genuinely concerned. Without an immediate answer, you grabbed a bottle of whiskey from your cabinet and poured two glasses.

“You’re gonna need it,” you handed one to him and he raised an eyebrow. The two of you flopped down onto the couch in the living room.

“You know how I said I don’t have a father?” you began after a minute, and Jake agreed with the question, “well I got into a huge fight with my mother about the way she was acting, and she used it against me. I, admittedly, got violent and threw a pickle jar at the wall, and I basically disowned her.” You took a big swig of the potent liquor in preparation for your next words. Jake seemed unbothered by the assault on the innocent pickles, but his jaw clenched at the way your mother had weaponized that against you.

“But, as it turns out, I do have a father, biologically and everything, and he has been under my nose for the past few weeks,” you made eye contact with Hangman to gauge his reaction. Ever so slowly, his eyes widened as he put all the puzzle pieces together.

“No…” he started.

“Yep.”

“No way!”

“One hundred percent.”

“No friggin way!”

All you could do was bob your head up and down.

“MAVERICK?!”

“I know.”

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

“Is this turning you off from me or something?” you asked him, teasingly, a sly smile on your face.

“No! I’m just… very surprised, but now a lot of things make sense…” he grinned slowly, “If anything I’m just a little more scared of Maverick,” he laughed and you facepalmed. He threw the whiskey back and gently placed the glass on the counter.

“Are you okay?” he checked in.

“Honestly, yes and no. I never want to see my mother again, but if anyone had to be my dad, I’m glad it’s him. At least he understands life, y’know?”

The both of you sat in comfortable silence for a while until you noticed Jake staring at you, a soft smile on his lips. Jake was so different from Hangman, it was startling.

“What?”

“You are so beautiful y’know that?” you couldn’t help the blush that found its way onto your cheeks.

“And I think I gave you too much whiskey, Hangman,” you laughed, standing to snatch his empty glass off the coffee table.

“Me? Never,” he stood to follow you into the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of a picture that was held to the fridge by a magnet.

You were clearly a bit younger, but not too much. A man stood with you, both dressed in flight suits. Your teal helmet was bright and your callsign was painted across it, the man’s deep red helmet had “Boxer” written in bright white letters. You looked so happy with him, laughing, and Hangman couldn’t help the frown that crept onto his lips. He wasn’t jealous, he felt sorry for you and for him. He looked like a good friend, and suddenly he’d been ripped away from you. Jake turned to you once more to find your back turned to him, busily finishing the dishes.

“How are you doing, really?” he asked, and the way you tensed up was miniscule but noticeable. After a few seconds of silence, you took a deep breath.

“Barely holding on,” you confessed, looking at him in the reflection of the window, placing the now clean potato salad bowl into the drying rack. You didn’t turn to look at him outright, and he crossed the kitchen to stand next to you, putting a hand over yours.

“I’m here for you, y’know,” he whispered tenderly, and after a moment you slipped your hand away from his to rinse the glass you had just been cleaning.

“I know, I know, it’s just… so much has changed over the past few weeks. Today alone has been life changing and I just don’t know how to cope like I used to. It’s like my resolve went into that cell with me and died in there with Boxer,” you angrily placed the glass you had just rinsed on the counter a little too firmly and it cracked up the side, not falling apart, but breaking all the same. It was a sad little metaphor for your life.

“Apparently my ability to not break shit also died in there,” huffing, you tossed the glass in a grocery bag and threw the grocery bag away before it could shatter, “I just… I don’t know how to piece myself back together, Jake.”

“Well, I’m here to help you figure it out, and so is Mav, now. I’d wager Rooster would be a good listener too, Bob’s sister is actually a psychologist,” he halfheartedly chuckled, putting his finger under your chin to lift your eyes to his, “my point is, you’re not alone anymore. You’re not alone and now you won’t have someone up your ass tell you you don’t matter all the time,” a lopsided grin projected onto your face, and Jake mirrored it.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your arm to comfort you.

“Thank you, Jake,” you said, sincerely, heart beating fast. The way he was looking at you just did something to your insides that you never wanted to stop. He made you feel so wonderful that sometimes you just wanted to squeal with joy. It was such an opposite feeling to every emotion you had to deal with as of late. Maybe it was the whiskey mixing with the want of his lips on yours, but you’d imagined that he started to lean in closer to you. Or maybe you hadn’t, because his lips are on yours, now. He tastes like the honey whiskey you had just poured him, and smells like smoke from the bonfire you had out back. His hands, which had been planted firmly on your waist, found their way to the small of your back and pulled you into his warm body. Your heart skipped multiple beats when his tongue swept against your bottom lip, and you gently nipped at his causing him to groan. His fingers found their way into your hair, ever so gently gripping while his tongue explored your sweet mouth. Eventually, he broke away to kiss down the side of your neck, and before he made it too far, too drunk off the whiskey and the feel of your soft skin beneath his lips, he pressed his forehead into yours.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked. That wasn’t very gentleman-like of me,” he huffed, and you kissed him hard once.

“Maybe I don’t want you to treat me like a gentleman would right now, Lieutenant,” you whispered against his lips, and that was all he needed.

*****

The blatant electronic screech of your phone alarm sliced through the peaceful silence like a knife, and you sat up quickly.

“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled, and Jake let out a small gravelly chuckle from the sheets next to you, his face pressed into the pillow.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he said, his morning voice making you smile.

“Don’t talk to me like that when you have another hour and a half to sleep in,” you groaned playfully. Ass.

He sat up and pressed a kiss to your cheek, sliding out of bed. You pressed your lips together to suppress a giggle at his little butt before he slid pants back on.

“I can drive you to work today if you like?” he offered, and you graciously accepted. Getting up to shower, you left him to his own devices while you prepared yourself for the work day. Upon opening the bathroom door, the smell of coffee and food greeted you.

Hangman was wrapping a ham egg and cheese on a plain bagel in aluminum foil. A travel mug full of coffee sat next to the coffee pot, cream and sugar next to the cup.

“I’m not sure how you take your coffee, but I made you breakfast!” he patted himself on the back, and you kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Jake,” you said, prepping your coffee.

You were gonna need it today.

*****

Headcanon that made me laugh while I was at work: Mayhem gets Maverick that stupid little "absent father" toy, completely as a joke, and it becomes a running gag gift between her, Mav, Rooster, Ice, and Jake.

*****

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etherealvoidechoes · 1 year

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Ne Cede Malis - REDUX - A Twist of Fate

Something I've been sitting on and then reworked it some more as the writing monster tries to bite me. Bite harder dang it.

Took the old version, but applied Find Your Light to it, including Asaru and Bradford being bonded, but keeping Jynn in a Proto-Chosen state. So consider this the new canon of this AU.

Now 13.9k.

Warnings for language, violence, references to alcoholism, and references to self-harm.

Can't say when I'll have the new versions posted on Ao3 and FF.net. May just append/add as a chapter to the old ones with the appropriate author notes.

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“Ho—how much longer… until we reach the outpost, Bradford?” Manson asked in-between gasps of air and grunts.

“Not much longer. Should see it when we reach the top of this hill.” Bradford replied.

“And then how far from there?” He sounded so exhausted.

“Oh, ease up.” Laney rolled her eyes. “Fresh ain’t killing you.”

“The humidity is.”

“Should install a fan into your Gremlin then. Just try to not get thrown out of Shen’s workshop.” She playfully teased, only to get a few curses slung at her. Yuri let out a boisterous laugh.

“You’re just asking for him to get thrown out of Shen’s workshop. Again.” Jody snickered.

“I didn’t know that was her workshop.” Manson said through gritted teeth.

“Go easy on the new guy.” Joshua shook his head. He grabbed Manson’s pack off his back and slung it onto his. Manson gave a quick thank you.

Bradford was leading a squad of about five, him included, through the backwoods of North Georgia. Partially into the Appalachian Mountains. Though it was a cool, spring day, a recent rain had saturated the air as Manson was not dealing with the humidity well.

There were some sound rumors there was a reputable Black Market dealer that made their home deep within the moments. In fact, they had turned an abandoned ADVENT outpost into their base of operations. A bold and dangerous play on their hand, but seemed like ADVENT didn’t care about this region. Barely any patrols ran through the mountain. Maybe the occasional dropship flew by, but not much happened. Hopefully, the trip was worth it. Heard the dealer may have been in possession of some sensitive equipment procured from an ADVENT facility. And they were always interested in getting their hands on sensitive equipment. No telling where it could lead them.

As they crested the hill, there it was. The outpost was off in the distance, just a few miles away. A white, grim covered building with several vines growing over it. The sun's rays glistened off one of those gaudy, golden statues of the Elders. A surprising sight. Those things were usually defaced or torn down when abandoned.

“This is a beautiful sight.” Asaru partially emerged from Bradford and peered around at the vast wilderness. Just so much greenery, bright greenery and colorful flowers blossoming all around. At least some of the Earth was untouched by what the Elders had done.

“It is.” Bradford nodded. One of the positives of running field missions. Getting away from the constant swarming hub of the Avenger and those metal interiors was always refreshing. Thinking of metal interiors, they needed to do some redesigning and decorating to make the place more lively. Maybe some black market contacts knew some carpenters? Could use some more wood paneling that wasn’t just the bar and crew’s quarters.

“I need… to catch my… breath.” Manson sat down as soon as they reached the top of the hill. He wiped the sweat from his brow before taking a swing of water from his canteen.

“Make it short.” Bradford glanced back at him and then at his watch. They still had a good amount of time before evening would hit. He wanted them to at least get halfway back to the Avenger before nightfall to set up camp. He rolled his eyes when Asaru chided him; yes he was being harsh, but they had a schedule to keep.“You’ve gotta toughen up, man.” Laney was still playfully picking on him. She found a log to step on to do some stretches to loosen up her legs. “Can’t have you on missions if you’re getting this tuckered out.

Manson furrowed his brows at her. “Not used to the humidity.” He was more used to drier climates. “Still getting used to carrying so much gear. I’m more of an engineer than a soldier.”

Manson was a new recruit to XCOM. A former ADVENT engineer fed up with the life and lies. He lived through the invasion as a teenager, and things never sat well with him. Of course, all the things the Elders did were wondrous, but it was all a lie. And then education They brought made his engineering interests flourish, but once he was older and found a job, he felt used. Eventually, catching wind of this XCOM made him want a way out of this false “golden” life. And there were a few others like him. It took some work, but they orchestrated a rescue from XCOM and delivered some equipment and valuable information into their hands. A few left to help with some havens, but most, including him, stuck with XCOM.

He flinched several times as Yuri patted his back.

“You’ll adapt in no time, kiddo.” He gave a reassuring smile in his slightly thick Russian accent. A jagged scar ran up the left side of his face, from lip to ear. His left eye was glassy, but there was a hint of life to it. “If you don’t, you’ll suffer Corvo’s wrath.” He wiggled his fingers and made an ominous “ooOooOoo” sound.

“Don’t remind me of him.” Manson huffed. He wished he never volunteered to join the more military part of XCOM. It was interesting, but he should have just stuck with the engineering crew, but there were hurting to have more people on the field. Corvo was a slave master when it came to training. He wondered how a man like him was married to Shay, who also helped with the training. She was miss peppy to mister cold… who had his own quirks. Annoying Bradford was one of them.

“Our blue friend sensing anything off?” Laney asked, as she went over to Bradford after stretching. She noticed their resident alien had partially emerged.

“No, just admiring the sights.” Asaru answered with a chuckle. “Earth’s natural beauty untouched by the Elders.”

“Ah, gotcha.” She nodded and smiled. “The Appalachian Mountains have always been -ahem- purdy.” She playfully jabbed Bradford’s arm.

He flinched, eyes twitching for a moment, before rolling them. “Laney…” A slight tinge of red appeared in his cheeks. Asaru laughed.

“Sorry, just remembering what slipped out during the briefing with Corvo and Shay. Channeling some of Commander Reeves and her brother.” She tried her best to stifle a snicker, but a snort slipped out. “Got stuck in that accent for a few minutes and Asaru didn’t help.”

“Yeah… yeah… yeah.” There was a slight dejection in his voice. He had Asaru to blame for random accent slips due to influences from previous hosts. But there was just something about Jynn, his old friend, their old Commander that came out strong. He never really had a strong accent, whether it be “southern” or “midwestern”, but because of Asaru, one was slipping into them at random

Hearing the dejection, Laney put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a good squeeze. “Hey, we’ll find her. Found her blue friend.”

“We will find her.” Asaru agreed.

“Right, thanks. Trying to stay positive… just miss her a lot.”

“I know. And she was a pretty cool boss when not in work mode. Heck,” she snorted, “kinda miss how she would go off on the idiots. Dress them down. Especially the pranksters. Remember the Chryssalid puppet?”

“Oh, do NOT remind me of that day!” He never realized how mean of a hook the Commander had and then she nearly bit him when he had to restrain her from attacking the culprits.

A few minutes passed by as they all caught a break, discussed some things, and made quick checks on the local frequencies. No ADVENT activity for miles.

“Let’s get going.” Bradford was ready to go and Asaru had re-merged with him. He was already moving.

In about half an hour or so, they arrived at their destination. The outpost. It was quiet. Dead quiet. Just the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling.

“Hm.”

Bradford approached the door. He signaled for three of them to check the windows. The security lasers were down. Boards and tarps had replaced them, as there was no more power to keep them going. He gave another sign for Manson and Laney to have their Gremlins do some scanning. Better safe than sorry. Last thing they needed was them stumbling into a trap. Or a nest of Chryssalids. As they did that, he knocked on the door a few times in a pattern given to them by their sources.

“I have burned my tomorrows and my shadows.” And said the code phrase.

A few minutes passed… and no response.

“Hm.” He glanced over at Joshua and then Yuri.

“Lights out and the place looks empty on this side.” Joshua said.

“This side is dark too.” Yuri said.

“Backs empty.” Jody said, coming back from checking the rear.

“Hm…” He didn’t like that. He then looked back at their Specialists. Laney’s Gremlin had returned to her side.

“Reading no life signs but us.” Manson said. He was letting his Gremlin do more extensive scans. “Just cold on the inside. We’re the only hot spots.”

“Same here.”

“Hm.” Odd.

He looked at the door handle and gave it a tug. The door slide right open, with a bit of help. It stuck a few times and let out a grinding screech at one point. He winced. Somebody probably heard that.

Once fully opened… there was still no response. The place was empty. The lobby was set up like any other black market they had gone to. Several display cases containing various weapons, equipment, and resources. Dried meats handing off to one side. There were probably more items to be purchased in the side rooms.

“Hm.” He didn’t like this. His eyes glowed blue for a second. “Hm.” Still nothing. No other life signs. “Asaru?”

His eyes glowed again, this time lasting for over a minute.

“Nothing. No one else but us.” Asaru answered. “But something feels off.”

“Hm.” Always something. “Stay alert.” Cautiously, he entered. The others followed. He took in several whiffs and sneezed. Dusty. “Sea… salt?” But he was picking up a faint smell that was like the ocean in the room. Strange. Didn’t look like there were any candles burning.

His eyes glowed blue for a moment as he looked around. Still, they sensed nothing.

“Something is off…” Asaru repeated. “I can feel it.” Something was hanging loosely in the air, but he couldn’t put a tentacle on it.

“Picking that up too?” Yuri asked, nose wrinkling. Bradford nodded. “The air feels off.”

“Think it’s psionic activity?” He asked both Asaru and Yuri. Yuri was oddly sensitive to that. The doctors had done some tests. Said he had potential, and they were working on unlocking it with the help of their Templar Navla and then Asaru. Things were looking promising.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Could be coming from an artifact lying around. Still, we should be careful.”

“I think so. But it’s strange… and familiar.” Asaru said.

“Familiar?” Bradford thought back, just in case anyone was around that could be listening in.

“I can’t put my finger on it. I’ll study it some more.”

“Okay.” He then nodded at Yuri. “Agreed. Careful, everyone.”

They all slowly spread out, weapons at the ready for anything, as they searched the outpost for any signs of life. But Bradford stayed in the main room. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. No black market dealer would leave their place unsecured like this. They usually had bodyguards besides booby traps.

“Don’t touch anything.” He noticed Joshua was about to touch one case by the left wall. The man quickly apologized and backed away. Bradford didn’t take another step further into the room. Something still didn’t feel right. “The dealer could have some nasty security set up.”

“Way ahead of you. Daedalus, do your thing.” Manson has his Gremlin carefully scanning the room to pick up any traps. That blue grid touched every inch of the room. “Clear. Next room, pal.”

As the team continued to investigate, Bradford finally moved. He went over to the counter to see what was on sale. Some elerium, elerium cores, alien alloys, and torn down magnetic weapons caught his eye. Especially that elerium. “Hm…” They rarely had such a thing on display, especially the cores. You usually had to ask for those.

“Hey! WHAT TH—AAH— MM! MM!”

“Who was that?” He asked loudly. The muffled yells of one of his squadmates caught his attention. His finger hovered over the trigger to his shotgun. Eyes glowed again as he looked around. He saw the life signs of everyone. Almost everyone. Someone was missing. “Sound off! Everyone!” He ordered. “Sense anything Asaru?” He sent to him.

“I heard that! Still here!” Yuri said.

“Nothing odd on the scanners!” Manson said.

“Investigating!” Jody said.

“Joining her!” Joshua added.

No response from Laney. Of course.

“Laney is gone… Her life sign just suddenly disappeared.” Asaru said. “Someone or something is here! There’s an odd disruption in the air.”

“Be careful.” Bradford was leery and what Asaru said didn’t help the feeling. Things were looking like a setup.

As Jody and Joshua entered the room, they last saw Laney head to, no one was there. Minus her Gremlin that was frantically flying around a hole in the ceiling. Dust and debris trickled from it and a broken light fixture swayed back and forth just a little too fast.

“Laney’s gone, but her Gremlin’s still here.” Joshua said, turning on his comms. “Light fixture is swinging. Think something pulled her through the ceiling.” He cautiously moved over to that hole, turning on his flashlight at the end of his shotgun to see what was up there.

Then something fell from that opening and made several metallic tinks on the ground.

“SHIT!” Jody’s eyes went wide.

“GRENADE!” Joshua yelled. “WE GOT TROUBLE!” He swiftly turned and headed back to the door. A second later, the grenade went off, letting off a loud bang and tossing up a lot of dust and debris. It was a flashbang.

A second later, there was a scuffle, several yells, and gunfire.

“Dammit…” Bradford cursed under his breath. He heard several wooden boards snapping from the left and right sides. Manson let out a blood-curdling yell and then Yuri spitting out several curses and gunfire before he was silenced. They were getting picked off quickly.

“There are psionics at use!” Asaru finally figured it out. “Whoever this is, they are actively hiding themselves with psionics and snuffing out our allies with it.”

“Great.” Bradford mumbled under his breath. He wondered who it was. ADVENT with some Sectoids or some raiders who had a psion? With the former, he wondered if the Sectoids had learned a new trick. “Get read—“

Before he could move to find his teammates, he noticed a black and white blur swinging down from the ceiling. Then something hard hit his chest.

“AGH!” The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the ground with a solid thud. His shotgun clattered from his hands.

The world spun as he quickly tried to get his bearings. There was something else in that kick. It hit like a truck and was fogging his mind. Felt like psionics. A jolt arced across his body and mind. Definitely psionics. Asaru was quick at work, clearing it away. As his vision cleared, he saw what kicked him, dropping from the ceiling and heading over to him.

Shit. ADVENT.

They had a helmet that reminded him of one of those Stun Lancers. He pulled himself over to his shotgun and quickly grabbed it. Before he could turn it on his attacker, they were on him, kicking the gun out of his hands and planting a knee on his chest. The next second, they had on his hand on his face and in an instant the world blurred again.

He felt that familiar electricity arc across his brain as his ears roared and drums went at work on his skull. He noticed a blue glow growing around them and streams of energy traveling from him and up their arm.

Fuck, they’re the psionic! He recognized the unpleasant feeling over taking his mind, but this was different. He felt like he was growing weak. As if his life was being drained from him with each passing second. Hell, he felt like his skin was wrinkling, drying out as the seconds passed. A feeling he was all too familiar with when he and Asaru accidentally over did it one day. Luckily, the squad got them back to Avenger in time for treatment. Recovery was rough.

“Asaru!” He yelled in his mind.

“Working on it.” Asaru replied with a pained voice. “They’re quite strong… Draining us like a vampire.”

Need to get them off! Need to cut this connection! Desperately, he tried pulling their hand from his face, but they had one hell of a death grip. He frantically reached for his knife, but they were blocking it. He could feel the both of them growing weaker by the second. This was not how he wanted to go out.

“Get… off… me…” He spat as his eyes began to glow. A quick burst of energy should do the trick and knock them off.

“Hm…” They muttered as they brought their face closer to his, cocking it to the side. That was interesting.

“>BOSS! STOP!<“ He heard the flanging voice of one Hybrid somewhere in the back. So the one pinning him down was the head of this group. “>These people are XCOM!<“

Bradford understood what they said and wondered if he was hearing things. Why the hell were they telling them to stop? But he noticed something… The draining… the draining suddenly stopped.

“>XCOM?<” The one on top of him asked, turning their head.

“>Yes! XCOM!<“

“XCOM.” This time they uttered in English. That surprised Bradford. And they sounded female.

She carefully shifted to the side, making sure she still had him pinned as she checked his shoulder. That familiar blue, polygonal patch was there. “Hm…” She brought her hand back to his face, undeterred by the death glare and snarl he had going on. He winced when he felt a connection again, but this time, it felt like probing. A quick search through his mind. A gasp left her mouth.

“Dammit.” She then cursed under her breath. “>EVERYONE! STAND DOWN! THEY’RE FRIENDLIES!<“ She switched back to the alien tongue.

“You seeing… hearing this, Asaru?” He sent a thought to him.

“Yes… this is a turn of events.” Asaru was just as surprised as him. “There’s something… interesting about them. Familiar too.”

Familiar. That again. He wondered what that was about.

Who the hell are these people? Bradford wondered just who this was. Were they Skirmishers? Had to be with their flanging voices and calling him and his people friendlies. He was curious what clan had gotten the jump on them.

He still struggled under his attacker, wishing to be free, but barely had the strength to lift his hand. Oh, great. He noticed her bringing her hand back to his face. He closed his eyes expecting the worse, but… but he felt his strength returning. A sharp gasp escaped from his lips. His life was coming back.

“This is… interesting.” Asaru noted, feeling the life returned to the both of them. “Also sensing the others again and more. Looks like this one was hiding everyone. They’re a strong psion.”

A minute or two passed before she took her hand off his face and got up. And he felt like himself again, minus the soreness to his chest and back.

“Sorry… sorry about that.” An out of breath apology came from her. And she was speaking in English again. But there was no more of the flanging in their voice like the others. Like she turned it off like a switch. Sounded completely human. And oddly familiar. He couldn’t put his finger on it. There was also a strain to her voice and a slight echo. She was slightly hunched over. Did that life transfer reserve take the life out of her? The skin on the lower part of her face… her brownish-red skin looked unnaturally pale and wrinkled. And then, from what he could tell, her neck was black. Like it was burned.

“You stumbled into our trap. We thought you were some of the local raiders that have been plaguing the locals.” She extended a hand to him.

“Geez…” He quietly muttered to himself.

He eyed her, especially that hand, finally having a chance to study her. She was about a head and a half taller than him, for starters. Never had seen a Hybrid so tall. She wore ADVENT armor; repurposed and repainted black and white. And that helmet was different. At a quick glance, it looked like a Stun Lancers helmet, but it was very different. It didn’t have that red ‘glass-like’ visor, instead an onyx curved piece took its place. Then he noticed this Hybrid had hair. White and brown hair. Hybrids didn’t have hair. This one had to be special as they also had psionics. Blue psionics. He thought he and Asaru were the only ones with that color. What were the Elders up to?

He finally noticed the symbol on the right side of her chest. Those wings and a star. Skirmishers. Ambushed by Skirmishers. His hunch was right. What were the chances? At least to was better than ADVENT.

“You guys set up one hell of an ambush.” He said gruffly. Just how troublesome were the local raiders for them to set this up? He finally took her hand and got up.

Just as he got up, the other Skirmishers were entering the main room, ushering in his people. They were all battered, highly confused, and ticked off. Manson was cursing out one Skirmisher in Persian. He had a dislocated right shoulder, and the Skirmisher was holding a very banged up Daedalus in their hands. Poor robot was letting out several pitiful beeps. No amount of “sorrys” was going to make the engineer calm down.

“>Sorry, boss,<” One Skirmisher in black armor came over to them, “>I missed their patches. I should have waited to give the signal.<”

“>It’s okay.<” She raised her hand to silence them. “>We already planned on taking any who entered alive for questioning. Thankfully, none were killed.<”

With that conversation over, she looked at each XCOM member. They were all pretty banged up. Cuts, bruises, and dislocated joints. At least none are dead. She then looked at Bradford.

“Come back to our camp. Our medics can patch up any damage.” She offered. “And we have some supplies and intel we can share. Information on vulnerabilities to several outposts and some facilities nearby.”

“I think we should accept.” Asaru eagerly sent to Bradford.

Bradford crossed his arms. An apology, of sorts. He wondered if he should accept it. They came out here for supplies and anything dealing with ADVENT. He would rather not leave empty-handed. And it would be best to keep the peace. Last thing Betos probably wanted to hear was some of her people attacking him. Hearing another curse from Manson as Yuri, with the help of one Skirmisher, popped his arm back into place had him leaning towards accepting it. A quick patch up would be a good idea. Probably would spend the night with them, depending on how long it took. And he and Asaru probably needed a rest after that draining to be on the safe side. They had their life back, but who knew what the lasting effects could be?

“Everyone needs to recover. We need to recover. And we have questions for this one. I feel like I know that.”

That familiarity Asaru was picking up, and Bradford felt like he was feeling it too. It would be best to investigate that. Hopefully, their Skirmisher host would be more than willing to chat.

“We accept.”

————————————

“What’s your clan?” Bradford asked.

As they were following the Skirmishers back to their camp, and were nearly there, he had been studying their armor, looking for identifying markers for one of the clans local from the area. So far, he was finding nothing.

“I know a few in this region that Betos has informed me of, but not seeing anything on you guys’ armor that says who you are.”

“We don’t exactly have a ‘clan’.” Bastion answered. He had come to know her as ‘boss’ or Bastion. She was still wearing her helmet even though her subordinates had removed theirs as a sign of friendship. Must have been secretive. He was half tempted to read her mind, but decided against it. Asaru also chided him, saying it would be a poor idea as this Hybrid was powerful. “We’re more nomadic.”

“She’s being truthful. I can sense that.” Asaru said in his mind.

“Huh.” That was interesting and odd. Even the more nomadic clans had a name. At least Asaru could pick up there were no lies.

“You can call us Twilight Drifters.“ Attis, the one in the black armor, butted in. Looked like she was Bastion’s right-hand woman. ”Boss is a bit hesitant about a clan name, but we all felt like having some sort of name was better than nothing!” She let out a hearty laugh as she smacked Bastion’s back several times. Bastion grunted with each hit. She turned her head. The corners of her lips were twitching as they slowly turned into a frown. That just got another laugh out of Attis and there others joined in.

“Here we are.” Bastion said as she moved some brush out of the way. The camp was active. It was a series of cabins deep in the woods they had taken over to be their base of operations for the time being. A mix of Hybrids, some humans, and aliens were moving about and working.

“Attis. Turel. Get them to the medics.” Bastion instructed. “And Hol’tul and Ermes get the intel from Varkner and his crew. And get some food scrounged up and sleeping quarters prepped for our guests, just in case. ”

“Yes, boss.” They nodded and went about their duties. Attis and Turel were already barking out orders to the others to alert the medics as they led Bradford’s crew away.

“You,” she pointed at Bradford, “follow me.” She started heading over to one cabin off to the right.

He raised a brow, but shrugged. Probably had something to tell him. His ears only.

“Keep tabs on the others and be prepared for anything.” He sent to Asaru.

“Being cautious?” Asaru replied with a slightly teasing tone. Bradford rolled his eyes.

“Have too. That familiarity comment from earlier has me both curious and worried. Kinda feeling it too, but concerned.”

“Yes… right. I still can’t shake the feeling I know them.”

He soon followed Bastion.

————————————

After they entered the cabin, Bastion locked the door. Didn’t need their conversation being disturbed.

“Hm.” Bradford looked around. Looked to be her quarters and the situation room all in one. A bed shoved into a corner and then several maps plastered on the walls, along with photographs and various weapon crates, spread about. Reminded him of rougher times before he found the surviving remnants of XCOM. He didn’t miss them.

“Again, I’m sorry for the injuries my people caused to your people.” She as said as she headed over to a table. She placed her rifle on the table and started taking off her armor. The gauntlets were the first things to come off.

“It’s fine.” Bradford said. Well, it was to a point. But he could ignore it. They were still alive. “Just one hell of an ambush. How the hell did you hide from our sensors?” He was curious about that.

“Psionics.” She raised her hand, forming that very energy into an orb. “I can deaden our life signatures. Makes us untraceable to most sensors. Usually takes a strong psionic to pick up something is wrong.” With that, she let the orb disappear. “Though, somehow, you and one of your men noticed.”

“Strong psion indeed.” Asaru noted.

“Huh.” He wondered if Sectoids could do that. That could be a potential headache. Something to note for the future. Especially if ADVENT started fielding Hybrids with psionics. “We just smelled salt. Sea salt. Like there was an ocean nearby.” He still found that strange. “And…” He paused for a moment to raise his hand. Should I?

“You sure about that?” Asaru was hesitant.

“Want to stay in her good graces and gauge her reaction.” He sent back. A second later, he formed a few orbs in his hand, shifting them between his fingers. Just as blue as hers. “I’m a bit of a psion myself, and my man, Yuri, is a budding one.”

Bastion gazed at him as he displayed his powers. Studying him with great intent. “Hm.”

How he wished he could see the face behind the mask. She was good at hiding her emotions.

Just as she pulled off her last bit of armor, she felt woozy. Body wobbling for a moment before her legs gave out. She barely caught herself with the table, hands slamming down to stabilize herself.

“Dammit.” She grumbled under her breath.

Bradford raised a brow. He dashed over to her and helped her back up. “You alright?”

“It’s… complicated.” She grunted. She was out of of breath. “Thanks.”

“You need a medic?” He noticed she still looked pale. She shook her head.

“They can’t really help me.” Another grunt slipped out as she leaned on the table. She looked around until her eyes fell on something. “Can you bring that capsule over to me, please?” She pointed at a cylindrical device.

He fetched the capsule and handed it to her. She thanked him again as fiddled with it. The thing lit up in hexagonal panels that suddenly spun out. A white mist poured out of it. And something glimmered inside of it. She pulled out what looked to be a black crystal about the size of his thumb and sealed the capsule. The crystal had a blue shimmer when the light passed through it.

She gripped the crystal tightly in her hand and channeled her psionics. There was the sound of cracking until a loud snap was heard. Black, blue, and red liquid seeped from her hand. She opened her hand. The crystal was shattered, revealing the liquid came from with in it and a few shards had pierced her skin. Before a single drop could fall, the liquid retreated into those cuts; discoloring her hand to a pitch black. She took in a sharp breath as her body shuddered as the discoloration traveled up her arm. Just as quick as it came, the discoloration disappeared back to a brownish-red. But she looked better. Her skin looked more lively, especially around her face. That paleness was fading.

“Okay…” Bradford wasn’t sure what he had just witnessed. More weird alien stuff. This Hybrid is special.

“Hm. Something’s wrong with her.” Asaru said.

“You think?” Bradford felt like that was obvious.

“Yes…” He responded in an annoyed tone. He knew it was obvious. “Reminds me of me and my damage. Just a familiarity I sense deep within her.” He continued. “And the energy from that crystal seems familiar… familiar from one of our dreams.”

That made Bradford curious and concerned. He didn’t want to think of the unpleasant ones the both of them had been having as of late. A bunch of irritating and cryptic bullshit.

“Just who are you? What type of Hybrid are you?” He asked, pointedly. The question had been nagging at him for some time, and he wanted to cut to the chase.

“Hm…” She grimaced, turning away from him. Looked to be a sensitive subject.

“Look, I don’t mean to—“

“No, it’s not that.” She interrupted him. “I don’t know how to put this…” She glanced over her shoulder. Looking at him for a few seconds before turning her head away. “I think I know you… and you know me.” As she said that, she began to remove her helmet.

“What?” That made no sense to him. He’d never met her or her group before. Nor did her name ring a bell from some operatives Betos had shared with them. And it was a long list. Just who were they?

“I wasn’t expecting this.” Asaru noted, growing more curious by the second. “Perhaps someone from our past, an operative turned Hybrid, but recovered their memories?”

“That is… possible.” That never even crossed his mind. He knew some Hybrids weren’t clone born, but most could never recall their past; just fragmented dreams. That was for the best.

They watched like a hawk, curious to see what she looked like underneath as that helmet came off. A Hybrid having hair was still a surprise to him. As she removed the helmet, he noticed a few oddities. She had ears. Hybrids didn’t have ears. Then there were no ports from what he could see or those surgical scar lines from them. And there should have been ports, as those helmets connected into them.

She set her helmet down on the table, took in a deep breath, and let out a sigh. Almost like she was hesitant to turn her face fully to him. But she finally turned.

“Long time no see, John.” There was a warmness to her voice as she said that. “Can’t believe you’re alive.”

John? He never told her his first name. Maybe from the probing earlier? “How the hell–“ But as she turned, he paused. Those features, she looked more human than the average Hybrid, but some genetic modification was evident. Eyes spaced further apart and a bit larger, a flared nose, and an odd gauntness to her face. Reminded him of one of the Chosen, but with a more human looking skin tone. But there was something about those features that looked too familiar to him. The freckles… Why was her voice familiar to him?

“Impossible…” Asaru gasped in his mind. “It’s her…”

“What the… no…” Looked like the gears were turning in Bradford’s mind at the same time. He gasped. He knew her. They knew her. “Commander Reeves? Jynn?”

“In the flesh.” She gestured to herself, then outward.

“No. You can’t be…” No. That was impossible. Had to be. No way she could be the Commander they were searching for. No way this person was his missing best friend. In those dreams…. No. Nightmares. In those nightmares, he saw what she looked like. She was in terrible shape, a walking corpse. And here she was, not in that terrible state, but still equally concerning.

“You can’t be her.” He shook his head. But he was moving closer to her.

“It is her… I believe… I can sense it.” Asaru said. He was just as shocked at he was. But he was hesitant in his analyses, carefully scanning her being. Hidden tentacles reaching out. “She’s so… changed and… damaged. She doesn’t seem to be a clone… but that can be hidden, and I’m hesitant to do a deeper scan.”

“I am Jynn Gresham Reeves, Central Officer John Bradford.” There was a slight annoyance in her voice as she looked at him with hooded eyes. Saying his title and full name just a certain way seemed to make him snap too. It was her. But a sigh slipped from her lips. She could understand his disbelief. “Though… changed.”

He reached out to her, raising a hand towards her face, but he stopped. He quickly retracted his hand and turned away, covering his mouth. He tried his best to stifle his disbelief, his weeping. This can’t be her. But all those nightmares of her damaged and partially transformed appearance were playing in his mind.

She let out another sigh and shook her head. “John.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, but he pulled away. He couldn’t acknowledge her. He was barely acknowledging Asaru, who was trying to ease his emotions.

It was a minute or two before he turned to face her again. His eyes were bloodshot. Tears stained his cheeks.

“What the hell did They do to you?”

Jynn sighed. Them. She crossed her arms and looked away.

“A lot of things.” She didn’t know where to start. “They nearly killed me several times with Their experiments as well as being the brains behind ADVENT. Tactical advisor running 24/7 nearly nonstop for several years. Really should be brain dead from all of that.”

“So that theory…” Asaru paused and sighed.

“So that theory is true…” Bradford voiced what Asaru said in his mind. He was thinking it too. He had been always a bit hesitant about that theory, but all the data they had been gathering, mind probing he and Asaru had been doing on captured Captains, and just how ADVENT worked leaned towards it being true. And he hated the idea of it being true, even if it meant she was still alive.

“Won’t be surprised if they have a clone of me running the system or some brain scan backup, but I see there has been some breakdown that’s been happening since I escaped.” She then tapped at her chin and looked off to the side. “Though Maker said that probably wouldn’t work due to several reasons.” Shaking her head, a dark chuckle slipped out. She could see the Elders frantically working to make the perfect replica of her, but falling terribly. But she soon sighed.

“A clone? Hm… that may explain those discrepancies we’ve been picking up in the network off and on over the years.” Asaru noted.

“Great. Something else to investigate and deal with.” Bradford mentally grumbled.

“Raal’Maker…” There was a warmness to her voice as she uttered that name. “I have him to thank that I’m even alive. A rather benevolent Elder.” She still couldn’t believe there was a benevolent one in that Collective, and supposedly his mentor had the same mindset as him. Perhaps there were more levelheaded ones under his mentor. “He tried fixing the damage several times before they ripped me away from him again. Really, my health is still terrible.”

“Benevolent?” Bradford wanted to scoff. He recognized the name, but strongly believed none of those things were benevolent with what they did to the Earth.

“Trust me, he’s a good one out of Their mad Collective. Pretty much the only one who was truly concerned about my damn health.”

Health… Does she know about her split from Asaru? He rubbed his chin, nails picking at the prickly hairs, as he eyed her changed form. That paleness to her face was nearly gone. But her features. Her face looked to gaunt. “What about your health?” He almost didn’t want to ask, but he had to.

“I can’t put this lightly….” She looked away from him. “I’m dying, John.”

“What?” He knew she was going to say that, but part of him was still in disbelief about the whole thing. She repeated herself, which made him look away. So that was happening, just like Asaru.

“Think she knows it’s because you two split?” He asked Asaru.

“She may… but you should ask. Pry a bit more.” He responded. He wanted to reach out to her, but was hesitant.Was she truly the Commander Reeves they were searching for?

“Right…” He mentally sighed. Needing more gauging. He looked back at her. “Do you know why?”

“What the Elders have done to me…” She touched her face, pushing at her sharp cheekbones and the strange plating-like growths that lined them. “They’re careless. Tried turning me into a Chosen when I was still broken, even after Maker’s warnings.”

“What.” Now that… He wasn’t expecting to hear that. A Chosen. To imagine her as one of those abominations was impossible. But that’s why she looked the way she did. She had some of those familiar features akin to those deathless pests.

“Those fools.” Asaru hissed. Angered welled inside of him.

“A funny thing, almost a twisted irony of sorts. I’m more like Them. Parasites feeding on ‘lesser’ creatures to survive.” She shook her head and laughed. “Maker was right. Something like this would have happened.” She looked back at him. A pang of guilt entered her heart as she bit her lip. She fed on him. Could have gone too far and nearly killed him. But something about his energy was so good. “Sorry about draining you earlier. I try to incapacitate the head of the group first and was just a bit hungry.”

Bradford was about to say something, but quickly snapped it shut. He didn’t know what to say. There was a lot to process.

“At least that draining wasn’t instantaneous.” He cracked a joke. Mainly trying to cheer himself up. She chuckled at that, but soon sighed. “And there’s something else.” What else? He didn’t want to hear it.

Jynn raised her hand and let her psionics flow freely from her hand. It took on the shape of a thin, four armed humanoid creature. Looked kind of like the Elders.

“I’m missing a part of me. Something happened that day they captured me at the base. I was connected to some being that was helping us. Guiding me.” She tried to explain. “When that Muton grabbed me… I disconnected to that being and haven’t been the same since.” She closed her hand and let the figure dissipate. “Even the Elders knew of whatever was connected to me. Called it the ‘Ascended One’ or something like that. Disappointed it was no longer connected with me when They started Their experiments and got me hooked up to their war machine. But They were still looking for it.”

“She knows.” Both he and Asaru thought at once. It was her.

He looked at the figure she made one last time before she let it disappear. Looked exactly like Asaru.

“I take it…” He paused, trying to find his words. Should Asaru reveal himself now? Both were conflicted about how they should do it. “I take it you’re looking for this thing?”

She nodded. “Been at it for a few years now. Why my group moves around a lot.”

He let out an exasperated sigh as he moved over to an open spot on the table and leaned onto it. He rocked back and forth. This can’t be happening. But it was. Somehow, all of this was happening.

“So, what have you been up to?” Jynn switched topics, hoping that would soothe his mood. She didn’t want to dwell on the subject for any longer. Hated thinking about her poor state of health. “I see XCOM’s still alive in some capacity.”

“We’ve been fighting back.” He nodded. “And we’ve been looking for you.”

“Just like every other fact on this pl—“ Her ears and eyes perked up. “You’re been… you’ve been looking for me?”

“I didn’t believe you were dead for a second.” He looked at her. He still couldn’t believe it. “They captured you for a reason that day. And the information we found reinforced that… and then some dreams… visions I had.”

“Huh. Really?” She was surprised to hear that. Even more surprised when he said yes. She was touched. He still believed she was alive in this mad world and probably a few others. But the dreams comment was… strange. “How many thought you were crazy? Wasting resources looking for a ghost from the past?” She knew there had to be a good amount of doubters irritated with him and whoever else was insistent that she was still alive.

“A good handful.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

She laughed at that. She could only imagine his irritation at all of those who probably called him and the others crazy.

“Also…” She slowly stifled her laugh, clearing her throat for a moment. She looked at him from head to toe, eyes flashing blue for a second. “How long have you been a psionic?”

“Huh?” A question he wasn’t quite expecting, even though he had showed that off earlier. He was just about to ask her a question. Looked like that had to wait.

“How long have your been a psionic?” She repeated. “You showed me a little earlier and then when I pounced on you, I picked up on it, too. You even resisted me. Don’t recall any tests back in the day from Vahlen showed anything, but then again, we were all busy and I wanted all tests to be allocated to the soldiers.” Couldn’t waste resources on testing just any personnel. Her eyes fell, narrowing into a glare as she thought of the doctor’s eagerness. “And she really wanted to test me… makes me wonder what things would have been like if she did.” She grumbled under her breath.

“This may be the way to tell her.” Asaru said. “Maybe she sensed me and is hesitant to ask?”

“We’ll see.” Bradford replied.

Bradford cleared his throat. Where to start? How to start?

“It’s something… I acquired a few years ago.” He said. “The whole affair was a surprise, really.” Surprise was an understatement. That day was a massive headache, but a great boon to the Resistance.

“A semi-stress or trauma based awakening?” She asked. She knew those could be a nasty way of learning one had psionics.

“Not exactly.” He shook his head. The day was stressful. “I’m actually bonded to… a being. That’s how I have psionic abilities.”

She raised a brow. Did she hear that right? “Repeat that?”

“It’s best if we showed you.” He took a step back. “Asaru.”

As he stepped back, Asaru emerged from him. That tall, slender Ethereal floated towards her. His bulbed tendrils drew close to her, but hovered just a few inches from her body. She gasped at the sight, backing away slightly.

“Hello, Commander Reeves.” He said to her.

“You.” Just the very being she had shown Bradford minutes earlier. She reached out to him, touching his chest. Soft, slightly gelatinous like a jellyfish and almost like he wasn’t there. Like it was just air there with a hint of mass. In turn, he gently touched her arm. He was there, really there. She wasn’t seeing things. She could feel him and that energy felt so familiar.

Trembling eyes jumped between Bradford and Asaru. “What? How?”

“It’s a long story, Jynn.” Bradford sighed. “Short story is my crew, I, and the Templars found him and the people that were protecting him a few years ago. I was the only viable host for him because of his damage. We’ve been bonded ever since.”

“Damage?” She had so many questions, but hearing that caught her attention.

“Our sudden separation damaged me.” Asaru said. “Damaged us both. Our bond ran deep.”

Jynn opened her mouth, ready to ask more questions, but closed it. She didn’t know what to ask first. Really, what could she ask first? She shook her head. The separation. She knew she was the reason behind for sudden separation that day. Those memories had become more clear overtime with her freedom. She recalled that she was growing more aware of Asaru as the War raged on. And the Ethereal didn’t stop that. No longer wanting to be a silent guide once the Elders were stepping up Their attacks. And then they captured one of Them.

Just so much happened those happened weeks, if not days, before the base fell. The Elder they had captured and what they said. Many cryptic warnings, threats, and expositions. Somehow They had also sensed Asaru inside of her and were adamant that she turn herself over to the rest of the Collective immediately. She thought nothing of it at first until the same Elder and the others started plaguing her mind with unsettling nightmares. If she only knew what would come next after that interrogation killed that Elder.

She shook her head again, sniffling. Tears already forming.

“Gosh…” Some of her old Cajun accent began to slip out. That made Bradford raise his brows. He hadn’t heard that in a long time. “Gosh darn, I’m… I’m so sorry.” She shook her head. “I did this to the both of us.”

“It’s okay.” Asaru reassured her. Touching her face with one of his tendrils, followed by a hand. “You did not know that would happen. I did not know.”

“I… I…”

“Your quick thinking gave this world more time.” He hushed her. “If They had the both of us… things would be so much worse for this world and so many others. They would have Their own Mosaic.”

“Mosaic.” She growled at the mention of that word. What a horrible machine. So many, if not all, Zudjari enslaved by one of their own. Feeling an anger well up inside of her, she took a step away from him. “They’re still actively working on trying to replicate and ‘improve’ upon it. Mildly thankful that the Fragmenta they’ve tasked with replicating and restoring the Zudjari technology they’ve found have been purposefully dragging their feet.”

“Really?” Asaru wasn’t surprised by what the Elders were doing, but to hear the aliens there were working with were purposefully stalling the development of that infernal machine was interesting.

“Fragmen- what?” Bradford asked. An alien name he was unfamiliar with.

“Hard to describe them. Sapient pieces of metal, interstellar gas, cosmic dust, and who knows what else.” She answered. “They have an extremely thin truce with the Elders, but make their displeasure towards the known with every meeting. Feels like they want to kill the Elders.” She wondered how that truce still existed. Perhaps they were waiting for the right moment to break it and strike against the Elders.

“That’s… interesting.” He rubbed his chin. Aliens that hated the Elders, and these sounded fairly powerful if they had a ‘truce’ going on with the Elders. He wondered how their war went with the Elders… if they even had one. “Can we consider them friendlies… to a point?”

“I’d consider them allies. The only Elder they seem to like working with is Raal’Maker.” She shook her head, but chuckled. It always came back to him. “Also his mentor and those under his mentor. Oh! And one more pleasant Elder, a part of the Earth occupation. Her name is A’Va’pur. Probably another reason why the Earth’s environment isn’t totally screwed over.”

“Another ‘benevolent’ Elder?” He questioned.

“‘Benevolent’ Elders?” Asaru added. Bradford still didn’t believe that was possible.

“Trust me. Despite everything the current sept occupying Earth has done, the ones I spoke of are quite nice.”

“That is interested.” Asaru tapped at his “chin”. “She speaks the truth. I sense it and so can you.” Asaru picked up no lie from her. Bradford sighed.

“If you say so.” He had to see it to truly believe it, though he could feel the same thing as Asaru.

“So what was that crystal?” Asaru asked. He hovered over to that canister that contained that strange crystal she used earlier. A tendril touched it.

She looked over at him. “Something Raal’Maker supplies me with.”

“You’re still in contact with that, Elder?” Bradford asked, surprised to hear that. She nodded.

“Raal’Maker and I have distant contact.” She said “He provides me that,” she pointed at the canister, “when he can. And some other gear. Lots of dead drops. His brethren as watching him like a hawk. They believe he may have a hand in my escape. He didn’t.”

“Exactly what is it?” Asaru was curious. It had a strange energy to it. Almost as it had a form of sentience to it. Benevolant… and malevolent.

“The crystalized blood of the Weavers is what he told me.” She said. “Something about it can sustain me for a while.”

“Another group of aliens?” Bradford asked. She nodded.

“A nickname given to them by other species they’ve interacted with. A benevolent bunch that helps others. Kind of like you and your species, Asaru.” She tapped her lip. “I think I remember Maker mentioning your kind and them have met before on good terms.”

“Really?” That was interesting. He longed to meet more of his kind. Now, he really wanted to meet this Maker. “But…” He looked back at the canister and then her. A few tendrils reached out to her. “I sense a… malevolence in this blood. That very malevolence courses through your veins.”

Her mouth pulled back into a grimace. She looked away. “That…”

Bradford raised a brow. He moved closer to the both of them.“What is it?”

“Let me show the both of you.”

She reached up to her collar of her under armor and pulled it down. From the chin down, her skin was black. An unnatural black. Like something had charred it black. And there was something else. Eyes. Sharp blue eyes that looked like tattoos were near the center of her neck. Four in total. But there were some others on her neck where more eyes could be, except they were closed.

“Goodness…” Asaru hesitantly reached out to her.

“What the hell…” Bradford moved closer to get a better look at it.

“A gift from my ‘benefactor’. A Weaver of questionable morality and methods.” She questioned if she could even call it that. “Something the Elders fear and it equally hates Them for some transgression They committed against it… him… I don’t know. And then several other species They’ve screwed with his ‘friends’ with.” She shook her head. “Feels pity for me for what They’ve and has helped stabilize my form to a point… against my permission.”

This Weaver hated the Elders? At first, Bradford thought they may have had another ally until she continued to describe this being. Sounded like she didn’t like it. Trusted them even less.

“How does this connect with the crystalized blood?” Asaru asked. A pair of his tendrils were touching the marks on her neck.

“Somehow, his blood is mixed in with the other Weavers. The Weavers as a whole are deeply connected to one another. Raal’Maker does his best to filter it out, but he can’t get rid of it all.”

“So this ‘benefactor’… this ‘benefactor’ helped you?” Bradford asked next.

She nodded. “He helped stabilize my health and reverse a good amount of damage that was done… with what he had to work it… And he’s made more offers to heal the damage, but I don’t trust him. I’ve refused them.” She really didn’t trust it, though its words were sweet and soothing. “The Elders fear it for a reason, though They’re not innocent from Their crimes.”

He picked at his lip as he listened. This being had the ability to heal her, but only so much. And was making offers to heal her, but with a catch with what she said. “I take it this being is still making offers?” She sadly nodded.

“He’s patient… Scarily patient… The offers haven’t stopped.” She shook her head again; arms tightly wrapping around herself. “Sometimes… Some days… I’m tempted to accept them just to be me again. Human once more.” It was such a dangerous temptation, and she had a feeling if she accepted, something terrible would befall her.

“Damn, Jynn…”

How long had she been suffering? Living such a tortured existence? A cosmic plaything from the sound of it. This is so much worse than his fears of finding her in some lab dissected like some animal and… hopefully dead.

He reached a hand out to her. Out to her neck to get a better look at himself, but retracted his hand. Instead, he stepped forward and hugged her. Hugged her tightly. He felt like it was the better idea. Felt like she needed a good hug. Jynn froze, arms open and drawn back. She was hesitant to touch him. She had been waiting for this, but not so suddenly. A sigh came out as she wrapped her arms around him. Nestling her chin against his head as tears streamed down her face.

Asaru drifted away from the two, wanting to give them some space. He could sense their shaky emotions. And a deep turmoil and conflicting within Bradford. That love he had for her. It would be interesting to see if he ever brought it up. He wondered how they would tackle that. For the time being, he looked around the room. Especially towards the map and intel she had pinned on the wall.

During the time, she looked at his features. How the years and stress had aged him. She wondered if the scar on his cheek came from the day the base was attacked. Probably wasn’t his only scar from that day and over the years. She ran his fingers through his hair a few times. Seemed like he didn’t mind. In fact, seemed like he welcomed it with the happy “hm” that slipped out. It surprised her to see him let his hair grow a bit, but he had an odd haircut going on. Partially shaved, starting just above his ears.

“About the hair…” She said, breaking the silence. Fingers toying with the little ‘tuft’ of hair. “Interesting cut.”

“Felt like letting it grow out.”

“But the partial shave?” She asked next, fingers feeling the border between the shaved and non-shaved side. He just shrugged. He didn’t really have an answer.

“Huh.” She just chuckled. “The little tuft is cute.” She flicked it.

“I have to ask…” Bradford said, pulling his face back to look at her. There was a question nagging at the back of his mind. Why hadn’t she reached out to XCOM? “Sounds like you’ve been free of the Elders for some time and been running with the Skirmishers for a while…” His voice trailed off, wondering how he should touch the subject. He shook his head. No scratch that. The answer is obvious. “Scratch that question…”

“What’s the question?”

“No, no, no…” He shook his head again. “The answer is obvious why you never contacted us. Never contacted XCOM. What’s happened to you. How you look.” He could barely imagine how that would have gone, especially if they didn’t have Asaru. Probably a hefty amount of disbelief. Part of him was still in that territory.

She sighed hearing that. He was perceptive. “That’s exactly why… and then I didn’t know if it was being run by survivors or just a bunch of bandits stealing the name. I’ve run into quite a few of the latter.”

“Ugh… tell me about it.” He hated those bandits the most. They already had to deal with the doubters who thought XCOM was a part of the Council and Earth’s leaders that sold out the Earth to the aliens when they were betrayed by them. That was a headache with the Reapers’ for the longest until Volk finally straightened things out. “Having to clear XCOM’s name in some regions is a pain in the ass.”

“I can only imagine the trouble.” She chuckled.

The two continued to stay in each other’s arms. Bradford eventually brought his hands went up to her face to examine her features. This new form twisted by the Elders. Like the Chosen, but a proto-form of sorts. But there were so many familiar features. Those freckles. It was her, but… she was so changed. And dying. He ran his fingers down her jawline, expecting to feel any remnants of pulled ports under the skin, something some Skirmishers did once they were freed. But there was nothing. It was smooth, besides that wrinkled skin that reminded him too much of Dhay-Vol’s, the Warlock, face. Why did she have to look like them?

She seemed unfazed by him doing that. Almost expecting him to do that. She welcomed it. The touch of an old friend. His hands felt nice. A bit rough from calluses, but nice.

“At least they let me keep my freckles.” A little joke to lighten the mood. He chuckled for a moment before the sadness returned.

“Hmph.” He let out a snort, shaking his head. At least she could make a joke out of such a terrible thing. “How kind of Them.”

A question nagged at the back of his mind. Something she said earlier. They’re careless. Tried turning me into a Chosen when I was still broken, even after Maker’s warnings. Just why did the Elders risk doing such a thing?

“Why did the Elders do this?” He asked. She let out an annoyed snort.

“They wanted an asset and weapon in more ways than one.” She explained. “XCOM was coming back. What better way than to have the leader of said group be the one to crush it?” The Elders enjoyed doing that. The Hunter was a fine example of that. A Reaper turned against his own kind. “Kon-Ris…” She shook her head. There was sadness in her voice. She pitied him. “They don’t care if they have to break you to remake you. Even when one of their brightest advises against it.”

“…Why.”

Hearing that just hurt him deeply. To imagine, if she was still in Their clutches, she would be one of those Chosen. Having to fight an old friend for Earth’s freedom. How would have that gone? What would they have done if they had learned of her identity? What would he have done?

As he continued studied her features, he felt another pang in his heart. The woman he loved had been tormented by those Elders. And despite seeing her like this, he still loved her. He dropped his hands down to her shoulders. Head lowering, gaze fixed on the ground, as he dug his fingers into her shoulders. She sigh and patted his back. She hadn’t let go.

“I never got to tell you…” He paused, hesitant to continue speaking.

Should he tell her? This could be my only chance. She is dying. How long will she live if this can’t be fixed?

Asaru turned his attention towards him, sensing what was about to do. “Careful now. Steady yourself.”

“Tell me what? John?” She noticed something glisten, falling to the floor. Tears again. They must have been flowing.

He tightened his grip again as he took in several shaky breaths. He raised his head. Those tears were flowing, just streaming down his face.

“That I love you.” He finally said it. Fighting off any hesitation that wanted to come through. Felt like an enormous weight was taken off his chest.

She blinked once. Then twice. Eyes darted around, landing on Asaru, who quickly turned away, before focusing back on him. He looked serious. Did she hear that correctly?

“W-w-what?”

“I love you, Jynn.” He repeated himself. More confidence in his voice. “I’ve had these feelings since we were teenagers.” Sometimes he wondered how she never noticed it back then, but she was rather oblivious to guys flirting at her kin high school. “Just kept it under wraps when we met again because of the Invasion. Couldn’t have them getting in the way. Kept it strictly business.”

“Uh…” Her mouth hung open. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. This was a revelation to her. Her lack of response did not surprise him. Probably not the best time to tell her, but he needed to get it off his chest.

“I am such an idiot…” She let out an exasperated sigh.

“Huh?” Not the response he was expecting.

She shook her head and smacked her forehead with her palm. “My mother was always the one to point out guys that had a crush on me and I’d just ignore her. She did the same with you!”

“Really?” He asked, holding back a snort in-between sniffles. She nodded.

“Hell!” She smacked herself again. “Explains why my dad was fine with me hanging out with you so much and inviting you on trips.”

“Really?” Another surprising detail. He and Mr. Reeves had a friendly relationship, but he found her father to be a rather intimidating person when he was younger. “He did scare me.”

“Seriously?” She held back a snort.

“To a teenager, a military man like him was very intimidating.”

She thought for a moment. A snort slipped out. “You’ve got a point there.”

Eventually, after the declaration, Bradford pulled away from her. Almost having to pry himself from her grasp. He didn’t want to move away, but he needed to breathe. Just so many thoughts and emotions were going through his head. He paced around the cabin as he rubbed his face.

At least she didn’t negatively react to me sharing my feelings. He was happy that didn’t sour the mood.

As he paced, he looked around the room. Eyes falling onto the maps, photos, and blueprints that Asaru was looking at. One photo had a big red circle around it and a quick note scribbled next to it that said “SEND TO BETOS”.

Betos.

“So how long have you been with the Skirmishers.” He asked. He had stopped in front of the photo that had the note. He noticed another photo circled and an arrow pointing to a location. And another note saying, “SCOPE OUT MORE. HIGH SECURITY. HIGH PRIEST IS HEAD OF SECURITY. MAY BE THE PLACE. WILL NEED BACKUP. KEEP IT STEALTHY.”

“About five years or so.” She said. “Still not fully one of them, to be honest.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, how I’m more nomadic for staters and I’ve never told Betos my identity.” She explained. “She never pressed me again once I told her it was for my safety and hers if she never knew it. Last thing I need is the Chosen knowing who I’m with. Especially Jax-Rai.”

She and her group had far too many close calls with the Assassin. She was thankful Jax-Rai never used her psionics like Dhay-Vol. Would have figured out who she was ages ago, but thankfully her identity was still hidden from them. But she piqued their collective interest. A psionically capable ‘hybrid’ was running around with the Skirmishers. That caused a new set of problems for her.

“Those things.” He grimaced. He had received some intel from the other factions that those three were hunting something for the Elders, but they didn’t know what. The information was always classified on another Network they had no clue of how to reach. Now he knew it was her.

“It’s amazing you’ve managed to avoid them for so long.” Asaru said.

“They’ve been annoying.” Which was an understatement. “I avoid Dhay-Vol the best I can. Trying to hide my psionic signature when he’s on his hunt is nerve-wracking.” She hated him the most. Had to fry his brain on a few occasions just to escape. Somehow, he was still oblivious to her identity. Should have picked up her psionic signature from her attacks. But maybe her benefactor, that Voice, was hiding it? That thought crossed her mind many times. He could have altered her signature ever so slightly to aid her.

“Jax-Rai is a pain and I think I’ve pissed her off with how much my people and I have escaped. And we’ve bested her a few times… .” She shook her head, but chuckled. “Though I think she enjoys the chase. Exhilarating is how she’s described it.” Such an odd comment to receive after besting her. “Kind of like her brother, Kon-Ris. Though not as mad…” She bit her lip. “Hunter… I feel like he’s figured out who I am… but is keeping it secret for some reason.”

Bradford couldn’t imagine the amount of stress she was under, having to hide from those three. But her comment about the Hunter interested him. The wildcard of the siblings.“He’s figured you out?”

“Think so. Said a few things he shouldn’t know about me. Enjoys calling me Gresham and brings up XCOM a lot.”

“That’s interesting…” Asaru noted.

“And he hasn’t told the others or the Elders?”

“Hates his siblings and hates the Elders even more… Probably some part of his brain blocks the info from the Elders.” She was curious how They hadn’t picked that detail up yet. “He’s always been a wildcard for the Elders after an incident with the Reapers happened that made him more flippant. Why he hunts ADVENT and aliens too.”

“We’ve noticed that a few times.” Asaru said. “He is an interesting one. Almost as if he has a split personality.”

“I believe he does, literally.” Jynn said. “I’ve heard several voices in his head. Mostly the Elders, but there’s this small voice. Crying for help. Trying to remember who he was. I believe that may be the old him.”

“Huh.” Both Asaru and Bradford responded. Something to look into later. Questions from Volk.

“So what’s this? Noticed Asaru staring at this intently.” Bradford pointed at the photo with the note of wanting to scope out some facility with high security. And the photo showed that. There were standard Troopers and MECS all over the place.

“The possible clone.” Asaru said as he shifted his attention back to the photo and intel.”

“Hm?” She went over to see what he was pointing at. “Oh that. Yes, I have a feeling that’s where they may have my clone or ‘backup brain’ running. Want to take it out. Disrupt their tactical information Network again.”

“Ah.” Bradford simply nodded. He would have to ask about that in greater detail another time. Still couldn’t believe that theory was true. Explained how ADVENT worked like a well-oiled machine since they were founded.

“So, when’s the raid happening?” He asked.

“Still in the works. Have to scope it out more and request backup from the local Skirmisher clans.” She shook her head. “Though I want to keep it stealthy as possible. Don’t want them teleporting the asset and any other backups out of the place before we get to it.”

“Hm.” Smart. He knew he had some facilities he had people scouting. Get as more information as you can before striking. But there was always a risk. He thought for a moment as he rubbed his chin. “Well, you could… join us. Join XCOM.” He suggested. “We’d be glad to back you up. Glad to have you back.”

Asaru looked at him when he said that. He was thinking of them making the offer, but was unsure, sensing a deep unease within Jynn about her current form.

She blinked a few times as her eyes went wide. Both brows raised high. He has to be kidding. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“XCOM is your home.”

“John…” She wasn’t sure of that anymore.

“Our medical team may be able to help you.” He almost sounded desperate as he said that. “Hell, the Templars may be able to help you! You and Asaru need to re-bond!”

It was a tempting offer, and the latter was true. She could sense they both needed that, but she wasn’t so sure.

“What will your people think of me?” She asked. “Is there anyone there besides you that knows me?”

“Corvo Samaras.” He quickly responded. As if he was prepared for that question. “He was one of the training officers that moved between the bases fairly frequently. Got nicknamed the ‘slave master monk’ by most of the recruits.”

After naming him, he started naming more. Soldiers, doctors, engineers, and other staff that had survived the downfall of all the bases. She covered her mouth as she listened to him. But from her trembling eyes betrayed her. She recognized several of the names.

“So many of you… so many of you guys survived.”

“And we’re still finding more as the years pass by.” He smiled. “Most haven’t given up the fight. They’ve been eager to join up with us.” He chuckled. “And you’ll be surprised with who’s running the Templars.” Mentioning that made his smile grow into a grin. That was still a surprise that day. He still wanted to get Geist for being cryptic for all those years.

“Yes, that was quite the surprise. He hasn’t changed much.” Asaru agreed.

She looked away, bitting her lip. Join them? It was such a tempting offer. XCOM was her home. But so much had change. She had changed. “But what will they think of me?” That was something he didn’t want to think about, but knew it would be a problem.

“I know some back on the ship will be hesitant. Some won’t agree…” He knew several were still quite anti-alien; including Hybrids. And some still questioned his bond with Asaru. They were barely tolerant of the Skirmishers and any aliens that had defected. Given the opportunity, they would kill them. It was rough keeping that from happening with some meetings and joint missions.

Sensing his mind drift off to the darker parts, Asaru placed a hand on his shoulder. Bradford glanced at him and nodded. He needed that. Needed to stay positive.

“But you…” He gestured to her. “You’re alive.“ He felt like that was the only thing that mattered. “I don’t think I can let this chance meeting be a secret… Can’t just suddenly drop the search for you. Some will question that.”

He had a point there.

“I don’t know.” But she was unsure. She turned away, taking a few steps away from the both of them. “I have to think about it.”

He reached out to her, but stopped himself. “Just think about it.”

“But I must ask… which part of you is asking this?” She glanced over her shoulder. “That military side of you? Or the part that loves me?” That declaration was still on her mind.

He looked away, closing his eyes. He placed on his chest and clutched it. “Both.” He couldn’t lie. He didn’t want to lose her again.

“Hm.” She looked at Asaru, who only nodded, confirming what he said. That’s… concerning. But made sense. It just made her leery. And something else bothered her. More personal.

She paced around the room as she mulled over his offer. It was so tempting, but she had her worries. But she also knew she and Asaru needed to re-bond at some point. She could sense he was doing fine with Bradford, hovering in some sort of stable condition, but there was still that lingering damage to him. It made her heart hurt.

And then what would her people think? She couldn’t just leave them behind. She shook her head. Like they would let that happen. They would follow her to the ends of the Earth, no matter what. They told her that on several occasions. Swearing their loyalty to her despite her protests. They were beyond grateful that they were free of the Elders’ enslavement.

She looked back over at them. Both had busied themselves with looking at the intel and discussed some things.

“Maybe…” She muttered as she went back over to him. “Maybe I can join… rejoin XCOM. My people and I can join you all.”

“Hm?” Both glanced over their shoulders. Looked like they were deep in thought. It took both a moment to process what she said. “Would they be fine with that?”

She nodded. “My people are flexible. Practically have sworn their loyalty to me. They listen to me first before listening to Betos.” That was a headache, but somehow they worked around it.

“That is interesting, but XCOM can always use more people.” Asaru chuckled.

“Huh.” Bradford nodded. Looked like she never lost her commanding skills. That made him smile. “Have to figure out the logistics, but we can always use more people. Though integrating more Hybrids is going to be interesting.”

“And there’s always that…” Asaru shook his head. That was a constant headache, no matter what.

“Guess we’ll just have to see what happens when you introduce us to everyone.”

“Right.” He said, then sighed. “Think I need to send a warning first so a few of the levelheaded staff can help me. Got a radio I can borrow?”

“That sounds smart. And yes, we do.”

Bradford looked at his watch, then over to the window. Through the slits of the curtain, he could see the sun disappearing behind the trees as the sky darkened. He let out a yawn before rubbing his temples. Looks like the effects from the ambush were finally kicking in.

“Think we may be staying for the night.” Was probably for the best. Never fun trekking through a forest in the night. Anything could happen.

“It would be wise to do so. We need to recover.” Asaru said.

“Sleeping quarters should be prepared for you all by now.” Jynn said. “And we should have plenty of food to go around.”

“Thanks for the generosity.” And he meant it.

“It’s what we do.” She smiled.

“Back to joining… rejoining XCOM… I would like to snuff out the local raiders before leaving. A bunch of psychopaths.” She said. A hiss slipped out as she wrinkled her nose. The world was already hard to live in with ADVENT running things, and some people just had to make it worse. No ounce of empathy. No sense of remorse. Everyone was fair game as they pillaged any camp, haven, or ‘authorize’ settlement they came across. Especially the weak. “Also, I’m waiting for some of my people to return from supply runs. Should only be a few more days.”

“I think we can help with that and we won’t be leaving this region for a while, so we can wait on those supply runs.”

“Sounds likes a plan.”

She then gently patted his back a few times before heading to the door.

“And Asaru.” She turned to him. In a way, she couldn’t believe he was there. She was so happy she no longer had to search for him.

“Yes?”

“I know we need to re-bond, but I don’t think we can do that anytime soon.” She sighed. “I feel like we’ll only hurt each other further. A downward spiral of draining will occur.”

“I also sense that.” He nodded. “I believe we’ll need a medium to facilitate the bond… but also your body needs to be healed.” A few tendrils touched her body. “Your conversion, barely at the halfway mark… I question if this can be undone or should it be allowed to finish…” And he didn’t like the idea of it being finished. A new form forced onto her by the Elders.

“Maker believes he may be able to reverse this…” And she prayed he could. “If not,” she tried to hold back a sigh, but one slipped out, “he has selected a few species that would best suit me to complete this transformation and purge the Elder DNA from my system. Right now, he’s trying his best to get the heat off of him so we can properly meet.” She wondered how long that would take. “Though he has his worries about how the process may go.”

Bradford closed his eyes tightly, hearing what she said. The chance of her condition being unreversible tore at him and hoped it could be done. “Is he worried about lasting damage affecting the process?” Bradford asked.

“That’s one thing, and then one of the methods he’ll be using.”

“What would that be?” Asaru asked, curious.

“He’s been cagey about it, but I think it deals with the blood of the Weavers and their DNA. And I understand why… But I’m willing to take the risk.”

“Really?” Bradford questioned, with a hint of worry in his voice. “Are you sure?”

“I just want to be me again. Not some abomination of a weapon of the Elders.” She shook her head. “Hell… hell… I’ll take another Hybrid form that doesn’t have Their touch and broken DNA.”

“Hm…” He was worried, but it would be a discussion for another day.

“Now,” she clasped her hands tightly and forced a smile, really wanting to change the subject, “let’s get your current crew updated on who I am and what’s going on.” She then unlocked the door. “And then go from there.”

He nodded and followed. Asaru merged back with him. “It’s going to be interesting telling them. Laney may remember you. She’s another soldier that spent most of her time in the main HQ.”

“Laney?” The name didn’t ring a bell.

“Laney Stavros. She was a medic. Still is a medic.”

“Still doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Maybe seeing her face should jog some memories.”

“Maybe.” Hopefully it would do the trick. There was a glimmer in her eye. She was somewhat excited to meet a survivor from the old base.

“Also…” She paused as she opened the door. “We’re going to have to talk about this… love… thing.” He was waiting for that.

He nodded, a small sigh slipped out. “I know.”

“It could become quite troublesome when I rejoin and th—“

“I know.” He cut her off. He knew the risks. “I’ll try to push it to the side, but…” He paused, sighing as he looked away for a second. He turned back and looked her in the eyes. “I don’t want to lose you again. Okay?”

Her brows scrunched together, part of her lips turned into a grimace. “Hm.” Her eyes flashed blue for a second. She was picking up a lot of strong emotions from him. And a lot of conflicting ones. “Yes… And you still feel this way, especially after seeing how I am now?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in his voice.

She closed her eyes and huffed. What to say? She didn’t know what to say. Now she was feeling conflicted. She felt something deep inside of her. Almost as if she felt the same way towards him, but wasn’t so sure. That part of her was a mess already. And then her current state of health wasn’t helping. She couldn’t reciprocate those feelings… for several reasons.

She sighed deeply, closing her eyes tightly. “I want to drink, but can’t.” Damn Hybrid makeup.

“Jynn, no.” He put a hand on her back. “I know the feeling, and that leads nowhere good. Trust me.” That was a hard habit to break, and he still needed to be careful. “And then your Hybrid make up. Alcohol oxidizing into formic acid. Go blind and die. Give or take some steps.” He shook his head, remembering that being explained to them. Just how much of it was a side effect of how the Elders built the Hybrids or did They do it on purpose as a control method. He was leaning towards the latter. “Thooooough”, he extended that for as long as he could as he leaned closer, “some of our resident chemistry majors may have figured out something Hybrids can imbibe in. It has become a rather lucrative bargaining item.” What some would do in their spare time… and for love.A snort slipped out from her. “Well… we’ll discuss this later. All of it.” Her voice trailed off as she continued out the door.

“Understood.” He nodded and followed. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Don’t make me regret it. All of this.” Though she didn’t feel like she was going to. This all felt like a new start, that light shining, burning through the depths of an ensuring darkness.

He chuckled. “I can’t promise anything. Just don't count your chickens before they hatch.” A yelp slipped out. Eyes flashing a quick blue, she gave him a slight shock of energy.

“Jerk.” She was grinning.

“Missed you.”

“Missed you too.”

#writings #Xcom #Xcom 2 #Xcom wotc #Fic: Ne Cede Malis #Proto-Chosen Commander #Ship: Breaking Protocol #Ship: Surface Tension #John Central Bradford #XCOM Bradford #XCOM Asaru #Asaru #*Jynn Gresham Reeves #OC: Jynn Gresham Reeves

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chibitantei · 1 year

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@epitomees / (Makoto to Naoto for the sister verse) sends:

It must be fate's hand which played the cards of two separated sister's birth dates. Only a few days apart from each other and divided by their year. One older, the other younger. Finding out this information was more of a hassle than Makoto imagined, due to Sae's strenuous schedule. Her lack of presence in the apartment was a setting the younger Nijima grew into once their last, living parent passed away. Alone, empty, a lack of familial connection at such an age impacted a person greatly come their young adult years.

The question begged Makoto: what about Naoto? The black sheep of this deteriorating family, as seen in the eyes of the eldest Nijima. Her visits amounted to snide bickering and dirty glares, along with abruptly departures without much of a single goodbye spoken. Nothing learned, nothing shared, and Makoto fell in the middle of it all. Alas, her own voice fell below the constant noise pollution and arguments.

But not this time. After learning of Naoto's birthday just days after her own, the brunette set a goal. Unfortunately with little knowledge of Naoto's preferences, there wasn't a lot of options to work with in such short time. Basics gifts were out of the running. No doubt it'd show a lack of empathy or care in Naoto's eyes....if she truly did care about Makoto in such a way, too. Something more complex, or perhaps a gift as complicated as the detective herself.

The days passed with little luck. Juggling her other responsibilities, on top of picking out a decent present scrambled Makoto's thoughts into a anxiety-induced concoction. Something, anything...

It's not until the day before the deadline an idea finally sparked to life. Once student council duties were completed, Makoto set her sights on visiting Jinbocho. Naoto's a studious type, judging by her attitude and personality alone, but quick-witted and sharp-tongued. Scanning the many sections inside the nearest shop brought the brunette towards the small games section tucked near the children's book shelves. Her eyes caught sight of several puzzle games, some ranging from a measly two hundred count to one thousand. Seven hundred was fairly complicated, and the one held in her hands depicted an overview of Akihabara. Challenging, and fun at the same time.

One present down.

More wandering brought Makoto into the fiction section, each book alphabetized by name and date of publication. She pulled out a few piquing her interest, scanning the inside cover for a brief description of the stories written within. Nothing caught her attention so far, or moreso, for Naoto's fascination. Not until a pink-covered spine grabbed Makoto's flitty gaze. The Factory, a book written by Hiroko Oyamada. Characters found themselves working in a factory making anything known to man; furniture, buildings, houses, you name it! A surreal and strange tale of the working environment, and the inescapable effect of separating work life from home life. Bingo!

She quickly made her purchases, with an added birthday card set on top, then set out for home. The next day arrived with little fanfare. Nervous anticipation kept Makoto's nerves tight especially once the last class ended for the day. She texted Naoto that morning to briefly meet her once school was over for the day. Once inside the student council room, away from any prying eyes or stragglers, Makoto handed Naoto the bag full of goodies.

"...I had no idea how close out birthdays were..." They really were sisters, weren't they. "...I'm sorry if this uh...pulled you out of any case work or..." The air already was tense once the younger detective stepped inside. At this point, it was choking her, which made it even harder to get her words across. "But. I wanted to be somewhere alone and..." Not at home. "...quiet to give you this..." It's left in Naoto's care now. Whatever she decided to do with her presents, Makoto wouldn't be angered or sad.

"...happy birthday." A hand rested on her opposite arm, with her eyes staring down at her tight grip. "I hope...your day has been well."

Naoto's Birthday | Closed

She had to thank Niijima-san for preventing a future where she was left in an orphanage with no hope of escape. What she had now was preferable, but every so often, Naoto wondered if it would have been better if she was sent there instead. While she had lived with them until her departure, she kept personal effects to a minimum. Knowing she could be shunted to another location at any time made it difficult to put down any roots.

So indeed, the current situation was the best solution. Away from those she shared no blood in common with, peace and quiet to greet her after a long day. There was nothing to long for. But worthless sentimentality kept her tied to a family whose ties should had been severed long ago. It seemed to be fraying, and she hoped that chapter of their lives and hers would be closed, never to be thumbed through again.

However...

On her birthday, a date she had never shared, only left vague, a text message coupled with a name she wasn’t sure how to feel about appeared on her phone. To meet at Shujin. Prestigious prep school, carried a weight her current school did not. Declining or accepting waged war and after a few minutes of careful deliberation, acceptance was the victor. She fired a quick message and proceeded to cast it into the depths until the bell rang.

She arrived and stayed silent as Makoto spoke. Noting the shyness that had overtaken her, Naoto took the bag and looked inside. A jigsaw puzzle of Akihabara, not too easy, not too difficult, although more than a thousand wouldn’t have posed a challenge. The next item, a book, The Factory. She heard of it before, knew that it was kafkaesque. She had read a few novels of his, although she never owned a single copy. This would prove to be an interesting read. The last was a simple card with a simple message.

At first, she wanted to ask, How did you find out, but it didn’t appear appropriate. “Thank you. These were thoughtful,” was what she settled on, and knew there had to be more.

“Sometimes, I wonder what if things had been different.” But thinking about what can’t be changed won’t solve anything, she nearly voiced, but omitted. “Eventually, we will go our separate ways, but I’ll treasure what you’ve done for me. However, no matter what has happened, I am glad it was you that I spent those years with. The thoughtful elder sister I always wanted.”

She didn’t smile nor did she approach for a hug, but for once, she hoped her sentimentality shone through, hidden as it was. “We’ll see each other somewhere out there. Or you can drop by my apartment again. Take care, Niijima-san.”

#Ask Status: Answered #epitomees #epitomees ; makoto #v: You Got To Keep On Living #Event: Naoto's Birthday #long post #(they're trying their best...)#(something like that)

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fluffy-critter · 4 months

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#crosspost #busybee

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gateliquor4 · 2 years

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#detailing

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106days · 2 years

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Friday was my last day in Amman. Got up and said goodbye to those on the tour continuing on to Israel via the Allenby border crossing, then walked to the cafe I went to the Friday before in downtown. As I walked I fed whichever cats popped out with the dry food I'd picked up the day before. The first was hesitant - I had to leave the food in the middle of the road for her and back away. The second and third ginger ones - one was cautious and wouldn't approach, until his bold little pal ran straight up to me and started eating. The fourth and fifth; the tortie was a mama and was extremely friendly - she kept brushing up against me - so much so that the long haired one came up and took her food while she was busy with me. They fought a bit so I tried to separate their food and left them in peace.

Once I got to the cafe I stayed there a while, drinking a delicious cold brew and writing postcards. Wandered the route back to the centre of downtown to meet Jen and Nina at the hotel Nina was moving to. We walked through the fruit and veg souq back up King Faysal Square, turning into the little side street that is host to Habibah Sweets - famed for their kunafeh. It was gooey and syrupy and had delicious toasted, crispy wheat on top, sprinkled with pistachio, and it was heavenly. It also burnt my tongue, cus I was too eager to eat it.

We walked around some of the shops a bit more before climbing up one of Amman's many hills to a place called books@cafe, recommended by a friend. It was a lovely place that occupied the first floor of a building in an otherwise residential and unassuming street, with an airy outdoor terrace and a nice view out.

Rehydrated with some juice before saying goodbye to the girls and taking myself back to the hotel, to grab my bags and get in an uber to the airport. Due to a very long story, I was flying business class for the first time in my life, on the shortest flight I have ever (and am likely to ever) take. That didn't matter though, because I got to the airport with 3 hours to spare and as I had a business ticket, had access to the Royal Jordanian lounge. Because I am a pleb I had literally no idea that this was a thing. Whilst I would've liked to have gotten shitfaced I still had Israeli customs to navigate, so sagely opted for two cocktails over 2 hours and nothing more.

The flight itself... I have been stuck longer on a delayed train between Redfern and Town Hall than we were in the air. That is not an exaggeration. It was an 18 min flight time. The scenery was beautiful, though - flew over the Jordan River where it meets the Dead Sea.

Everything went exceptionally smoothly at the airport. I'd been warned in advance by another friend (a Jewish friend, no less) of what Israeli immigration could be like. The customs officer could not have been less interested in my presence. I think the only thing she said to me was ciao, as she handed my passport back.

Because Israel is still doing PCR testing for entry (which they're getting rid of next month), not only did I have to pay to have a test done in Jordan in the 72 hours before departure, but for a test to be done at the airport on arrival too. Again, the apathy and disinterest involved from the person who did me was breath-taking. I also don't know why they're enforcing this if the entire populace has given up on covid. I've not seen a single Israeli wearing a mask and there's no such thing as social distancing. Unclear to me why they're testing tourists but whatever, rules are rules. That was all pretty smooth sailing too.

Once I got out of the airport though? Not so much. I arrived in Tel Aviv on Shabbat. This means that no public transport runs - the train station at the airport was shuttered, and there's an extremely limited bus schedule in the city only. Stood in a taxi line for about an hour. Finally got one. My driver had bad English, handed me his phone to type in the address. I saw that the language the maps app was set to was Russian, asked him if that's where he was from, in Russian. Cue a half hour conversation in my awfully broken Russian with an Azerbaijani Jew from Baku, who'd lived in TLV since his teens. It was interesting at least, and I felt cogs turning in my brain that are very, very rusty. It cost an arm and a leg, and at first I thought I'd been ripped off... but then I checked taxi prices again and nope, that's just how outrageously expensive Tel Aviv is - made pricier by Shabbat.

Got to my guesthouse and dumped my things before heading out on a walk around the area. Went up and down the stretch of Rothschild Boulevard nearby, up the street that leads to Carmel Market, down Allenby Street and around. Pockets were pumping - one pedestrianised street was filled with people lining up for or already sitting at restaurants and bars. Other parts were more or less deserted. There's a municipal rule that prohibits retail from trading during Shabbat, except, seemingly, for these 24/7 supermarket stores called AM:PM. Went in to get a gauge on prices... holy moly. I'll never call Australia unaffordable again. Oy vey.

How excellent my time in Jordan was, was both unexpected and totally not. I think of the four countries on my route to the UK, Jordan was where I was most excited to go. Before I'd arrived I kept thinking of those first moments I'd experience in the city, and how it would feel to finally be in the Orient. It did not disappoint. The goats by the main highway into Amman and camels literally moments from the centre of town; the thousands upon thousands of beige stone apartments perched around the city; the crisp, cold, dry air on that first night; the call to prayer before sundown as the wind blew; the kids playing on makeshift swings adjacent to roads filled with furious, honking taxi drivers... And it only got better from there.

Shopkeepers don't harass you. They invite you in. If you decline, their response 9 times out of 10 is "welcome to Jordan." I never felt unsafe. The men who served me at cafes and restaurants were patient and joked with me when I didn't understand the currency, or what exactly I was ordering. The men we encountered in the desert were calm, hospitable, and wore the most genuine smiles. The women I met - which granted, were much fewer - weren't shy. They were helpful, curious, kind, bold. The women I observed were fascinating, the younger ones often wearing elaborate make up and toking away at a shisha with friends; the older dragging hard on a cigarette with a Turkish coffee at a roadside cafe; the ones in between usually trying to wrangle a child or three.

I don't think I have a single complaint about my time in Jordan. If you haven't been, and it's within your means, you gotta go. I hope I'll be back one day.

#travel #jordan #amman #israel #tel aviv

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genshinlover101 · 2 years

Note

Hello I just found your blog and I love it. Has nothing to do with hyper fixation on Genshin at the moment lol. If I could make a request, could I request Ayaka crushing on reader who is a close childhood friend of her and Ayato. Please, thank you, and have a wonderful day 💕💕

Ayaka Crushing on a Childhood Friend of the Kamisato Siblings

Character: Ayaka x gn!reader

Warning: none

A/n: fdahfjk thank you so much <3 I hope you’re still in the mood for Genshin by the time this is posted, also tyty u as well have a good day

• Since the loss of her parents at a young age, Ayaka missed out on a lot of important socialization tips. She never had a proper childhood, never had any true friends, never had any romantic interests. And as much as Thoma was there for both of the siblings, he didn’t count in her mind. Poor guy.

• That was until Ayato brought home a new face. It was you, immediately she cowered behind a pillar, you were different from her sheltered life. You made her heartbeat so fast she didn’t know what to do whenever she saw you. She didn’t even know what she was feeling for goodness sake.

• You’d always be so open and kind to her, she wasn’t sure if it was because she was Ayato’s sister or because you also were interested in her. If you saw her hiding as usual, you’d seek her out, playing house with her crafted straw dolls when none of the maids would.

• When you grew older your relationship still maintained the same. She was still shy, but bolder than before. She craved new experiences, curiosity eating up her mind to have a normal life. As her childhood crush manifested and grew stronger, she projected all her feelings onto you.

It was Tuesday 5:00 pm, you and her brother should’ve been done by now after dining together at Kiminami as you always did. She even checked to make sure everything was perfect. Going to the mirror to check her hair and makeup, making sure the headquarters wasn’t messy, and that she sat doing her work as a lady should to show she was responsible.

Only to check her pocket watch once more to see the clock struck 5:05 pm. She groaned believing you were never going to come, her upper body lay resting on the table. Because of her brother’s role, he was always on top of his schedule, never a minute late. That was until she heard the door creaking open and some giggles shared between two very familiar voices.

Ayaka shot up from her laying position. Her eyes wide as she tried to concentrate on her paperwork, pretending as if you two weren’t there. As always, the shy Ayaka wouldn’t interact with you unless initiated, you side-eyed her hoping one day she’d greet you first. “I’m going to get some matters situated quickly, you can stay here and relax for a moment,” Ayato told you.

You nodded as he left the building from where you had entered. Now it was only you and Ayaka alone. Not wanting the atmosphere to be any more awkward than it already was, you approached her slowly, your legs moving in a slow march. “So Ayaka-,” you said starting a conversation. “May I take this seat?” You asked pointing at the pillow beside her.

She shyly nodded, “please,” she murmured barely making eye contact. Her eyes flowing in any direction other than you, her head lowered into her documents.

“What’cha working on hmm?” you inquired feeling rather bored. Ayaka’s gaze still fixated on the paper rather oddly. Her grip on her feathered pen grew tighter as she felt her breath stop yet her heart beat faster.

“It’s nothing,” her replies were always short. Sometimes it made you wonder if she hated you... even as a child she was not very talkative unless another person was present. Regardless, she was still an interesting girl in your eyes, a strand of her hair sticking out from when her head was on the table.

You took the liberty to brush it down into place with your hands, the sudden interaction made her make a slight eep sound. Her face being shrouded in light pink as she tried to back away. Your hand floating in the air a little confused to her quick reactions. “Why didn’t you join us for dinner tonight Ayaka? You know I missed you dearly,” you teased in an effort to change the topic.

“I-I’d rather not say,” she said grabbing both of her chopped curtain bangs to hide her face.

“Hmm- suit yourself. You know how rigid your brother can be,” you continued. “I think it’s much enjoyable whenever I’m graced with the presence of my beloved Shirasagi Himegimi,” She bit the bottom of her lip, her mind going crazy. Should she take your words as flirting? Or were you just being nice to her? It was always like this whenever you spoke to her alone. She cursed herself for being so timid at times like these.

#ayaka x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #kamisato ayaka

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myherowritings · 3 years

Text

PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month.

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place.

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of.

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista.

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores.

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do.

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour.

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack.

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming.

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?”

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!”

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.”

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot.

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.)

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.”

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?”

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now.

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?”

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.”

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.”

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded.

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.”

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either.

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit.

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.”��

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.”

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.”

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility.

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter.

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through.

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?”

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron.

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!”

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?”

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.”

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning.

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.”

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude.

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

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aimless-imagines-for-fun · 3 years

Text

Heat Up

Pairing :: Rick Flag x short/petite fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+ Content, NSFW/SMUT, Size Kink

Word Count :: 2,439

Summary :: Rick isn’t too happy Digger tries to tease you

A/N :: I was gonna make a fic about someone else, but then I saw The Suicide Squad trailor and goddamn Joel Kinnaman. I love that tall beautiful bastard. Also, I’m not super happy about the title, but it was all I could come up with, meh

As Amanda Waller’s assistant, you had to deal with a lot daily. It wasn’t just about making sure she got her black coffee right when she walked into the building and managing her scheduled meetings. You had to ensure everything, and one, was in order for her. If someone told you they were running late, you forced them to be on time. You carefully inspected each report and corrected them before turning them into Waller. You got her any top-secret document she needed and kept it hidden. Hell, you even helped her with Task Force X, going through the list of criminals and writing down a thorough analysis of each potential member’s abilities.

Despite working for a woman who was heartless and calculating, you were as timid as a mouse. You rarely spoke to others unless you needed to. After working for Waller for several years, you found it best not to make any personal relationships with the people you met. She warned you most didn’t last very long and very few could be trusted.

One person who had stuck around though and Waller seemed to even trust Colonel Rick Flag. You two started working for her around the same time, and yet, you could barely hold a conversation with the man.

When you first met him, you constantly felt overwhelmed whenever you were left alone with him. It didn’t help that he appeared rather intimidating, with a serious expression almost always on his face, and towered over you. He was 6’2’’, and even in your favorite pumps, which added a good three inches to your height, you were still, smaller than him in frame.

However, regardless of your inability to speak around him, he continuously tried to start conversations with you and be friendly towards you. His constant attempts helped you grow used to him, but your face always heated up and you grew ridged when he got too close when you were alone. You didn’t understand the feeling, nor did you didn’t hate the feeling. It confused you.

Rick was absolutely perplexed by your meek behavior, especially since he’d witness before how assertive you could get when it came to getting something done for your shared boss.

So it was no wonder he worried about you whenever Waller brought you along to see the Task Force X members. They were psychotic criminals, and you were like a slab of meat to some of them. You almost always wore a skirt or dress with a pair of pumps or oxford flats. Rick would be lying if he said you didn’t look perfect every hour of the day.

He used to wonder if you were actually as innocent as you acted outside of work. Then, he saw you run as fast as you possibly could when Harley tried to give you what she called ‘wholesome safe dating advice’.

Since then, Rick did his best to make sure you were at least arm’s length away from any psycho. He even went as far as stepping right in front of you when someone got too close. Somehow, standing either beside you or a bit in front of you had become a habit of his when he noticed you were uncomfortable.

Like now.

Waller sent you and Rick to a hidden ARGUS base hidden in the woods. Rick was obviously there to lead the team. You were there to give them their mission and an extensive overview.

There was a row of chairs for each Task Force X member to sit in. You stood in front of them with a large screen behind you, displaying various diagrams and photos for the mission. Rick stood off to the side, just behind all the seated members.

You looked away from your presentation, the projector turning off and the lights on. “So, are there any questions?”

Harley’s hand shot up. “Did you want me to continue giving you dating advice now or would you prefer I write it all down and give it to you later?”

Your eyes squinted and your lips curved downward just a bit. “What- no. That has nothing to do with the missions and I don’t need your advice…” Your voice trailed off, at a loss on how to deal with Harley.

Rick took a step forward. “Harley, stop it,” He warned her.

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Fine, but only because I think someone has a major crush on you (Y/N) and I wanna see if he makes a move.”

You were silent for a moment, processing what she had said before your eyes widened upon realization. Surprised, you couldn’t stop yourself from confirming what you had heard. “What did you say?”

“Nothing!” She sang, springing up from her seat.

“Hold on, now I’m interested too,” Floyd chimed in. “Now just who do you think it is that has a crush on lil ol’ (Y/N). I mean, no offense,” He glanced at you before turning his head back to Harley, “but she’s too skittery.”

Digger hopped up from his seat, shaking his head. “Nah mate, that adds on to her appeal.”

He started walking towards you and instinctively you started to back away until your back was against the wall. As he was getting closer, Digger’s hand started to extend, reaching out for you.

“See, it makes it fun to try and catch her.”

You shut your eyes, ready to scream the second he dared touching you. Instead of feeling what you thought would be cold dirty fingers, you heard Digger begin to plead.

“Woah! I was only joking around! Let me go!”

Eyes now wide, you saw Rick hoisting the Aussie up in the air by the collar of his shirt. If looks could kill, Digger’s head would be gone.

“What are the rules?” He asked in a cold tone.

“No escaping and no disobeying,” Digger said quickly.

“Oh! Also no annoying or vexing you!” Harley added.

Rick still held Digger up. “And?”

Confused, Digger looked at Floyd for help who nodded his head towards you. “And-and no touching or teasing (Y/N)?”

Rick released Digger, throwing him towards the door. “Everyone out. We leave at zero one hundred hours.”

All of the criminals walked out of the room. Rick followed to make sure the door was closed once they were out, and locked the door.

You stepped away from the wall, straightening out your black pencil skirt. “Thank you for earlier Colonel Flag.”

“Rick. We’re alone,” He corrected you.

Around others at work, you addressed each other professionally: Colonel Flag and Ms. (L/N). Alone, Rick had started trying to get you used to calling him his name to be more comfortable around him.

“Right, thank you, Rick.”

You were about to clean up and reorganize your notes when you noticed Rick still seemed upset. He had the same annoyed expression he had when the criminals were around and his arms were crossed over his chest.

You cocked your head to the side. “Is something wrong?”

“What were you going to do?” He started walking forward.

“Pardon?”

“What were you going to do if he touched you?”

Your brows furrowed. Why was he asking this? “Most likely yell at him and push him away.”

“And then?”

“And then what?” Now, you were starting to get annoyed.

Rick stopped a foot away from you, eyes piercing down at you. “What if he didn’t stop?”

“He wouldn’t dare continue.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’ll keep me safe.”

Quickly, you realized what you said and turned your head to avoid his gaze. With a blush creeping onto your cheeks, your heart started to beat faster when he took one step closer to you.

Rick gently grabbed your chin with his thumb and index, turning your head to face him. You looked up at him with your large (E/C) eyes and that odd tingling feeling started up.

“What if I’m not there to keep you safe?”

“You always are.”

Like a flip was switched, Rick suddenly knew why he constantly wanted to make sure you were always alright. You worked for a harsh realist like Waller, but still naively believed good always prevailed. He wanted to make sure you never lost the blissful joy most did when they faced the harsh reality of the world.

His head lowered towards yours until his lips were pressed softly against yours. It was a simple kiss at first. Rick was unsure of how far he could go until you gently returned the kiss. Your hands went up to his chest and he lowered to your waist to pull you closer.

Wrapped in his arms, the odd tingling feeling turned into a warm little flame. You wanted to stay held like this forever.

When he pulled away, you lightly gripped his shirt and tugged. “Rick, I want more.”

“Are you sure, because it might be sweet now, but if we keep going-”

Without letting him finish, you pressed another kiss against his lips. Again, you two sweetly kissed for a few minutes. Then, you felt one of his hands lower down to the round of your ass. A small gasp escaped you upon being lifted, your legs wrapped around him for support. Your skirt bunched up revealing your thighs as a result.

Rick pulled away from your lips, begging to trail down kisses to your neck.

You knew what you two were doing, more importantly, where, was inappropriate. Though with your mind clouded, you didn’t care. You only wanted to make sure you two wouldn’t be disrupted.

“The-the door,” Your murmured,

“Already taken care of,” He said, lips pressed against your neck.

Rick started walking slowly, carrying you over to the row of chairs. Before he took a seat, he put you back down on your feet.

Suddenly, the world spun and you were now seated on his lap, back pressed firmly against his chest. His arms hugged you close to him while he continued to kiss your neck.

Due to your skirt bunched up, you could feel his denim jeans below you. With heat growing in you, without thinking, you started to move your hips in his lap.

A small chuckle left him. One of his arms released its hold on you to start trailing up and down the side of your thigh. “Is this why you’re always so tense when we’re alone?” His hand moved to your inner thigh, coming closer to your core.

Your hands shot up to cover your blushing face. Was this why? You never quite understood why before, but it was starting to make sense now.

Rick’s other hand pulled your hands down. When he wrapped his arm around you again, he made sure to keep your arms down as well so you couldn’t hide your face.

“Come on now, don’t be shy. It’s just us.”

“Mmm!”

You bit your lip feeling him begin to rub your clit through your damp panties. You started to squirm a bit, a clear bulge forming and pressing up against you. He pushed the fabric to the side, inserting only one finger. You moaned softly, your legs spreading open and welcoming him.

Rick pushed in his one finger as deep as he could before pulling it completely out and sticking it back in. This time, his finger curved in you and you felt your cunt tighten. When it did, he stuck a second finger in you. His fingers pumped at a consistent pace, and you kept your moans at a low volume.

You could feel his hardened erection through his jeans pressing firmly against you now. With his fingers still pumping, you started moving your hips along to feel his covered length.

Rick let out a quiet curse, the tightness of his jeans too much. He let go of his hold on you to unbuckle his pants and release his cock.

“I tried to get you ready, but,” He pulled his fingers out completely, both hands now gripping your hips and lifting you up, “this might still hurt a bit.”

He started lowering you down on him and your eyes widened once he had gotten just the head of his dick in. The further he pushed in, the more pain you felt, your eyes growing glossy as a result. He lowered you until you were seated on him again and he was fully filling you up.

You could feel your pussy aching and tightening around him, never being filled up this much before.

“Christ you have a tight little cunt,” Rick gritted out.

Honestly, he surprised himself you managed to take all of him in, but he knew you were in pain. He wanted to give you time to adjust to his length, even if your clenching walls were driving him mad. Though, you could tell by his tight grip on your hips, staying still was driving him mad.

To distract yourself from the pain, you turned your head back to look up at him and pulled him down for another kiss. This time, his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring the wet space.

During the kiss, you finally started bouncing up and down in his lap. He helped guide you, keeping you at a steady pace.

With your tight pussy squeezing around him, Rick couldn’t keep the pace you had set. He started thrusting his pelvis up and moved you down on him faster. Eventually, you were no longer in any control while he fucked you. Then, he pulled you out completely and rammed back into you, slamming you down.

“Rick!” You screamed, a sensitive spot now hit.

He did it again and again, your screams growing louder each time he hit your sweet spot.

Each of your breaths was growing heavier, and his fast pace was now ragged. He hit you once more and your head fell back against his chest, a loud moan leaving your lips. Your cunt clenching and finally releasing around him.

With just a few more thrusts, Rick’s hips bucked into you and he held you still for one moment so he could cum inside you. You felt his cock pulse with each hot spurt in you, causing a shiver.

After, he moved you only a few more times slowly for you each to ride out your climaxes. Once done, he pulled you off of him and stood up.

Rick wrapped an arm around your shoulder, holding you close to him as you each steadied your breathing.

“So, I take it you’ll start acting normal now when we’re alone?” He asked you.

“I’ll probably heat up thinking about this.”

“I’m fine with that too.”

#joel kinnaman x reader #rick flag x reader #joel kinnaman smut #rick flag smut #rick flag fanfic #fick flag fanfiction #rick flag imagine

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aquaticrunner · 3 years

Text

Modern Academic Rivals to Lovers | Edmund x Reader

Request by @generalblizzarddreamer : Hey love! I don't know if you're inspired to write Narnia right now but could I have academic rivals to lovers with Edmund Pevensie? Maybe Edmund could be a law student and the reader is a journalism major? Thanks so much if you do it! | Word count: 2.9K

A/N: I did not mean for this to come out so long but I loved the idea and just kinda ran with it. I hope you like it! I had a lot of fun writing it. I’m so sorry it took so long but I’m finally out of school so I’m catching up on all my requests.

I stood up from the small desk I was sitting at in the university library and stretched my arms up above my head. I’d been sitting at this desk for at least two hours and still felt like I hadn’t made much progress on my project. I decided to go searching for some more sources and scanned the section closest to me. A book title on the top shelf caught my eye and I reached my hand up to grab it. Just as my fingers brushed the spine of the book, another hand reached over and swiped it. “Hey!” I shouted, immediately cringing at the loudness of my voice in the quiet library. I looked over at the thief who had taken my book. The guy seemed familiar like maybe we’d had a few classes together. He had dark, curly hair that had grown past his ears and an easy smile that probably made most people melt.

“Hey yourself.” He said, chuckling as he started to walk away. I bit the side of my cheek in frustration and made the impulsive decision to follow him. “Excuse me, but I need that book.”

He stopped walking and smirked at me. Despite how attractive this boy was, it infuriated me. “Well, so do I.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I saw it first and there’s only one copy.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “You saw it first? What is this, primary school?”

“Seriously? Just give me the book.”

I could see the smile in his eyes as he just looked at me and said, “No.” Then he turned around and walked away again.

I decided not to follow him this time and walked back to my desk, fuming the whole way there. He was the most arrogant and obnoxious guy I’d ever met and I didn’t even know his name. I tried to focus on my project again but gave up after about 30 minutes. I packed up my stuff and walked back to my dorm. When I made it back, I checked the time on my phone. It was only 8:15. Too early to go to sleep. I scrolled through the contacts on my phone until I saw my best friend’s name. I pressed the call button and put the phone to my ear. She answered after the first ring and asked what was up. “Do you wanna go out?”

I woke up the next morning with a slight headache and my mouth dry. I picked up the water bottle that I keep beside my bed but it was empty. I sighed and stood up. I ventured into my small kitchen area and filled up the bottle in the sink. As I drank the water, my mind drifted back to last night. My friend, Valerie, and I had gone to a small club and stayed out till about midnight. I had pretty much gotten over my encounter with that guy at the library. I looked at the clock at the wall and cursed when I realized that it was almost 7:30. I only had 15 minutes to get ready for my morning class. I threw on some jeans and a t-shirt and brushed my teeth. I rushed out the door, barely checking to see if I had the right notebook. I walked as fast as I could to the humanities building and breathed a sigh of relief when I made it with 3 minutes to spare. I took a seat in the front row where I always did and smiled at the boy that always sits next to me. I opened my backpack and grabbed my notebook, thankful that it was the right one. I opened the notebook to a blank page and sat a pencil next to it. I was waiting for the professor to walk in when someone else caught my eye. It was the boy from the library! So we do have a class together, I thought. I waited for him to see me but his eyes stayed focused on his path and he sat down in the middle row. I turned my head quickly in case he saw me looking at him.

The professor walked in a minute later and I tried to refocus my mind on what he was teaching. This class was already boring to me. I knew that research and writing were important, but this class felt almost too basic. As the professor talked my mind drifted to the boy sitting behind me. I wondered if he had noticed me yet, if he was as bored as I was, or if he was paying attention and didn’t notice me at all.

“Does anyone know the answer?” I was snapped out of my thoughts when the professor addressed the class and averted my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t call on me. “Anyone at all?”

“A research question is focused, complex, and arguable.” My eyes widened when I realized it was the boy from last night.

“Yes that is correct, Mr… ?”

“Pevensie, sir. Edmund Pevensie.”

The professor nodded and went back to lecturing. My eyes stayed glued to the boy, Edmund. His eyes snapped to mine and heat immediately rushed to my cheeks and I turned back to my notebook. Now he’s going to think I’m obsessed with him.

When the professor dismissed class after what felt like forever, I threw my stuff in my bag and rushed out of my seat. I made it out the door and thought I was clear and my path was blocked. “Excuse me.” I said, trying to get past.

“Avoiding someone?” His voice burned into my soul and I jumped back.

“No. I just have somewhere to be.” My eyes drifted up his chest as I leaned up to meet his eyes.

The corner of his mouth ticked up and he narrowed his eyes at me. “Right. I’m Edmund by the way. Figured I should introduce myself after you called me a thief.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are a thief. And I heard your name. Everyone in class did.”

This time, he smiled completely. “So…?”

I looked at him, unsure of what he was wanting. “So what?”

He stared at me blankly as if he was trying to figure out if I really didn’t know or if I was messing with him. “Your name?”

“Oh. It’s Y/N.” I don’t know why it surprised me that he wanted my name. Was he trying to be friends or something?

“Well, it was nice to meet you Y/N.” And with that he turned and walked away. Why is he always doing that?

I rolled my eyes as he left and walked back to my dorm, throwing my bag down in the living room. My roommate, Elle, walked out and raised her eyebrows at me. “Someone’s in a foul mood.”

“I am not!” I shouted defensively. She just looked at me and my shoulders sagged in defeat. “Fine. I met this guy and he’s a total jerk.”

Her eyes lit up immediately. “You met a guy?”

“Seriously? That was not the important part of that sentence.”

She laughed. “Well I can’t remember the last time you said the words “met a guy.”” She said, using air quotes around my words.

I sighed and walked into my room, looking over my schedule for the day. I had one more class and a club meeting later that day.

“Hey would you wanna grab lunch before my next class?” I asked her, walking back into the living room.

She shrugged, “Sure. I have nothing better to do.”

We ate in the campus cafeteria and I went to my corporate communication class. Now I was on my way to one of the meeting rooms on campus for a debate club meeting. It was my first time joining a club and I was definitely nervous.

I walked up the stairs of the building and into the room that was on the announcement. A tall girl greeted me at the door with a large smile. “Hi! Are you here to join the debate team?” Her enthusiasm was almost scary but I smiled back and nodded as she handed me an instruction packet. “Great! Feel free to sit anywhere.” I thanked her and took a seat near the middle. Normally I liked to sit in the front but I was a little too nervous tonight.

I looked around for anyone I might know and noticed a familiar boy with dark, curly hair. You have to be kidding me. Ever since our interaction at the library Edmund seemed to be everywhere I was.

He was busy talking to a group of kids at the back of the room. He caught my eye and waved at me with a smirk on his face. I clenched my jaw and turned back around, facing the front of the room.

The girl who greeted me when I walked in had now moved to stand behind a small podium. She cleared her throat to catch everyone’s attention and I sat up a little straighter in my chair. She spent the next hour describing what the debate club was like, our meeting schedule, and how often we attend competitions. “Now there is a sign-up sheet being passed around. Please write your name and phone number on the sheet.” She handed the clipboard with the sheet on it to the boy on my left and he handed it to me when he was done. I wrote what she instructed and passed it to my right, not paying attention to who was beside me. Once everyone was done she announced that the meeting was over and we would receive a message for our next meeting time. I sighed and stood following the small crowd out the door.

“Hey Y/N!” I looked to see who was calling my name and of course it was Edmund.

I kept walking, pretending I hadn’t heard him, but he caught up to me almost immediately. “Hey, I didn’t know you were interested in debate.”

I shrugged, “Well you don’t really know that much about me at all.”

He put his hand over his heart in mock hurt. “Ouch. You wound me.”

I smiled condescendingly. “I try.”

“You don’t like me, do you?” He asked.

“I don’t have any feelings toward you.” I said in response.

“Riiight. Is this about the book?”

I sighed. “No. I don’t care about some stupid book. Look, it's late and I have to go. Bye.”

I walked away from him and headed back to my dorm for the night, trying to concentrate on my project.

The rest of the week went by quickly with limited interactions between Edmund and me. Finally, it was Friday and I was ready to take a break. However, before I did that I needed to buckle down and finish the project that I had been procrastinating. I packed my stuff up and drove to the library. I spent hours there and by the time I finished, it was dark outside. I packed my stuff up and stopped by the vending machine on my way out. I reached the doors and pushed, but was surprised when they didn’t open. I pushed again and started to get nervous when they still didn’t open. Maybe there’s another exit. I walked away from the doors and searched the perimeter of the library looking for another set of doors. When I didn’t find any, I walked to the center of the library where the help desk was located. “Hello?” I said, hoping someone would answer me.

I heard a voice from behind me, “Please don’t tell me we’re locked in here.” I cringed, knowing who it was going to be before I even turned around.

I slowly turned to face him. “It’s starting to look that way.”

“Do you have your phone?” He asked me.

“No. I leave it in my car when I’m studying. Don’t you have one?” I asked, crossing my arms defensively.

He waved it in front of me, looking annoyed. “It’s dead.”

I wanted to bang my head against a wall. “Great,” I said sarcastically.

“Maybe we can use the library phone?” He suggested and I nodded, walking around to the other side of the desk.

I picked it up and attempted to dial a number. Instead of hearing the phone ringing, all I heard was constant beeping. I groaned when I read the inscription at the bottom of the phone.

Edmund leaned over. “What is it?”

“This phone only connects to other phones in the building. No one else is going to be here at this hour.”

“Well, guess we better make ourselves comfortable.” He took a seat on one of the couches and propped his feet up on a nearby table.

I took a deep breath and sat down in a chair across from the couch.

He stared at me from across the table and I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. “Why are you looking at me?” I finally asked.

He shrugged. “I’m trying to figure out why you don’t like me.”

“By staring at me?”

Edmund laughed and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease just a bit.

“So are you going to tell me or not?” He asked me.

I bit my lip nervously. This is going to be a long night. “I never said I didn’t like you.”

“So you’re acting like this because you do like me.”

“No!”

“So you’re rude to everyone?”

“I am not rude! I don’t dislike you. I just have no interest in talking to you.” I finally said.

“Why not? I’m hilarious.”

I snorted in response. “I doubt that.”

“You’re judging me based on one interaction. That hardly seems fair.” He said. I looked away, not wanting to admit that he might be right.

“Well it was one rude interaction. First impressions matter.” I said in my defense.

“Okay, well I’m sorry I took the book you wanted. I needed it for a project.”

“So did I.”

He laughed, but it sounded dry. “Whatever.”

I bit my lip, guilt starting to settle in my stomach. Maybe I had judged him too harshly.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have judged you so fast. Maybe we could be friends?” I asked.

He half-smiled and I felt slightly relieved. “We can be friends.”

I smiled at him for what felt like the first time and he smiled back.

“Let’s play twenty questions.” He said, sitting up suddenly.

“What?”

“Twenty questions. I ask you a question and then you ask me one.”

I curled my hair around my finger nervously. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You can ask me first.”

I sighed, knowing there was nothing else to do anyway. “Fine. What’s your major?”

Edmund laughed. “Okay, starting off easy. I’m pre-law. What’s yours?”

“Journalism.” He nodded, and I sat for a moment, thinking of my next question. “What’s your family like?”

Edmund smiled and his fondness for them was written clearly all over his face. “I have two sisters and a brother. Lucy and I are the youngest and then Susan and Peter. We’re all really close. I don’t get to see them as often as I like but we text all the time.”

I smiled, surprised at such a genuine response. He cleared his throat and then asked his next question. “What’s your favorite food?”

I laughed and tried to think of a genuine answer. “Pizza. Yours?”

Edmund thought for a moment. “I love anything sweet. Why are you majoring in journalism?”

“Well… I’d like to have an impact on the world. I like discovering the truth and telling real stories. Why do you want to be a lawyer?”

“To defend those who can’t defend themselves, obviously.” He said, jokingly.

I laughed again and thought of my next question. Edmund and I spent the rest of the night talking and laughing. I had seriously misjudged him. He was actually very pleasant to be around. Eventually, we fell asleep and when the librarian woke us up the next morning I was embarrassed to find that Edmund and I had moved together in our sleep. The librarian apologized profusely for not checking before she locked up and then Edmund and I were on our way out of the library.

He walked me to my car and I grabbed his arm before he turned to leave. “Thank you.”

He looked at me curiously. “For what?”

“For making last night a little better. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d been locked in by myself.” In a moment of bravery, I leaned forward and hugged him.

Edmund hugged back and I could feel the warmth radiating off of him and his heart beating in his chest.

I leaned back slowly and Edmund kept his arms around me.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

I nodded and Edmund leaned forward, immediately capturing my lips with his. The kiss was passionate and I could’ve sworn I saw literal sparks. I wasn’t sure how long it lasted but I was sure it wasn’t long enough. He leaned his forehead against mine and I smiled at the closeness.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” He asked me.

“I would love to.”

He kissed me on the cheek then began to walk back to his car.

“Hey Edmund!” I called. He turned back to face me. “Thanks for stealing my book.” A smile broke out on his gorgeous face and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Anytime.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie edit #edmund pevensie fanfic #narnia #chronicles of narnia #narnia edit #narnian #narnia edmund #edmund pevensie x reader #narnia x reader #x reader #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie imagine #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #modern edmund pevensie #modern narnia #narnia au

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obeymeluv · 3 years

Text

The Baby Assignment [Beel]

Not gonna lie, I wanted to do Mammon next but I love this big guy, so... The names for his sons (again, from “The Boys as Dads” post) were pulled from Wikipedia after a bit of research. I wanted to see what other names and history were tied to Beelzebub and I found Hesperus and Baal.

Apparently “Baal” was used to refer to Beelzebub in the Hebrew Bible. It was technically a title meaning “Lord” but could be used to reference specific demons. “Hesperus” comes from Testament of Solomon where Beelzebul (not Beelzebub; at some points throughout history these two were separate entities and at other times they were the same figure with different names) talked about his old high-ranking status in heaven and how he was tied to the star Hesperus.

Mammon’s probably going to be next, but I have to do more name hunting.

Beel is secretly excited to be partnered with you. He’s kind of curious about how the kid will look. More human? More demon-like? The two of you stand in the circle and not one but two babies explode in little clouds

Unfortunately, they’re already crying. Whether they’re hungry or the flash of light hurt them, you don’t know. Beel’s already giving this low, comforting purr and shrugging out of his jacket to swoop them up like some little papoose. This quiets them a little.

He can’t help but giggle because they feel like little hams in his arms. Tiny roasted Devilbirds. They look on the bigger side for Devil babies but they’ve got cute round faces and big sparkly eyes already tinging with that orange glow he gets at nighttime. They are carbon copies of Beel and he’s a little sad he doesn’t see the ‘you’ in them.

They wiggle a bit in the temporary papoose but settle when one arm breaches to grab a tiny, pudgy fistful of his shirt. There’s a few moments of ‘open, close, open, close’ where you think the baby is making biscuits against his chest but he finishes up with a firm grab.

Beel ties the papoose around you so he can carry the magic trunk back to the house. You take great care in keeping the light away from them and don’t know quite how to feel yet about that orange tint to their eyes. They observe you with much interest. They’re still cute though.

You’re walking back to the house with Beel and the others when the jacket blob starts to move. You think they’re getting restless (maybe need air?) and peel it open just enough to see what’s going on. They’re trying to tear a hole in your uniform to latch. They want skin-to-skin contact. One of them has their arm down your uniform top. The other is trying to jam their hand in there, too.

You just hold them close as you walk to the House of Lamentation. You bet by the time you get there, you’ll be missing a few buttons.

Beel sets up the trunk in his and Belphie’s room (Belphie’s seriously considering relocating to the attic for about a week) and helps you sit down. He undoes the papoose to find they’ve ripped a decent chunk out of your school uniform and are trying to hide between the fabric and your body. They’re holding hands, their other one either tucked under them or latching onto you somewhere else. It’s really cute and Beel goes beet red.

If you’re female, this gets Beel extra flustered because--for some reason? Demon brain and baby hormones?--he’s thinking about you breastfeeding two kids and being pregnant with another one.

Is he gonna be one of those guys that wants lots of kids? Probably.

He opens the trunk in search of jumpers or something that will help them keep their heat and is surprised to see insulated bags of squeeze-type baby food. All KINDS of food, actually!

He’ll have to try some for quality assurance. Does it actually have substance?

Those kids get it honest because they’re literally only an hour old and they KNOW what food packages sound like. Your uniform tears a little more because suddenly two little ginger-headed babies are watching his every mood like a hawk, heads thrust out of the little hole they made.

Beel is not a fan of opening tiny baby food portions. His hands are very big and this is a problem. He ends up puncturing the cap with a fang and squeezing some out. It works, so he hands it over.

These kids snatch food like Mammon taking a grim, okay? Watch your fingers.

Suddenly there’s a little fussy fight breaking out in your top because one baby has one and one baby has nothing. Beel can’t get the second one fast enough. He just shakes it outside the hole and hopes the empty-handed one takes it.

You tell Beel to help you out of your uniform since it’s basically ruined. Boy heats up real bad, touching your skin and everything. Big boy has it BAD!

The kids hiss and growl and cry until you set them in his jacket and make a nest. Then they’re back to being content little angels, gumming and sucking on the little pouches

“I hope all this eating means they grow fast,” Beel smiles as he takes the empty pouches and looks in the trunk again. It’s imbued with magic that only lets the ‘parents’ open it so there’s no accidents. He’s looking for other flavors as you hug the jacket nest.

Somehow you end up with a tiny little hand tangled in your hair as they try to pull you into the nest. You just lay in the middle and they lounge on you. They are BIIIIG on contact. Like to touch all the time. Very snuggly.

You’re kind of shocked but Beel is big into photography. He never answers you when you ask why, but he’s very diligent about taking pictures. They’re not always the best quality but boy never misses a moment.

After about three pouches apiece, they’ve moved onto Beel. They like to snuggle around his stomach and you joke about his ‘baby bump’. You take the pictures now.

By the end of the night your name has a sound. They are grabbing at you and Beel at the dark, giving calls and trying to wake you up. They want to eat again.

This goes on for days 2 and 3. The twins are more active at night since their eyes don’t hurt and yours and Beel’s sleep schedule are officially messed up. Day 2 they are very vocal with their demon vocal chords, so you basically need a translator. Day 3, you’re used to their nightly disappearances and sneak down sometime after them to see Beel digging through the fridge.

“Apple? See? Apple. Ap-ple.” Beel apparently like smothering them in forehead kisses. He’s passing the food between them and suddenly it’s just three demons cooing over a piece of fruit. They’ve inherited the biting instinct because all three of them bite it at the same time.

He was fixing to wake the house with a happy yeowl about the fangs but had some sense that someone was behind him, so you’re gifted with the sight of three demons still holding onto an apple. “They go’ fanfs,” is what you think you here. Beel technically got the first purr with that one.

When the fangs come out, the food fights start. If you feed them with a spoon or fork it is LITERAL begging for them to let go so you can get more food for them.

Feeding them is a two person job, not because there are two of them, but because one of them needs to attract the biter with a different food so they let go of the utensil.

They get teary and screechy when they’re not fed fast enough. Hesperus’ first word was “MO’!” (more) as he’s slamming his little fists on the feeding chair and puts a crack in it. Baal takes full advantage of the surprise and latches onto the spoon Beel almost drops. Another struggle ensues.

Between Day 3 and Day 4 they have the muscle strength and build to fully walk themselves. Half of the time they “skitter”. For some reason they don’t like walking upright.

Previously, you could only tell them apart with the brothers’ help (demons can differentiate demons). Now you and Beel have a color-coordinated system to tell the twins apart.

They seem to take after their Uncle Belphie and hide in unusual places. The only way you and Beel find them are by walking around the house and shaking various packages of food. You think this is a joint effort to eat more.

Baal says ‘thank you first’ and is the gentle teether. He likes to cuddle like that. Hesperus is an avid climber that prefers to latch

Half the time you don’t know if the twins are cuddling and scenting or play fighting. They’re more energetic than you expected.

Ironically, there favorite person is Mammon. He runs fast when Lucifer scares him and they like to chase him. When they want to sleep, they go to Uncle Belphie. He’s just not energetic enough to play with.

They’ll grab anyone’s leg and sit on them. They like to be carried like this.

Asmo only managed to get a blurry picture of it, but somehow the twins managed to get Lucifer to drag them around by sitting on his cape. It was very cute.

They’re pretty much Beel’s shadow. They like to follow him and he regularly uses them as extra weights in his routine. Sometimes they run around the yard together. Beel tries to teach them how to play Fangol but they end up trying to gnaw the ball to death and end up wrestling for it. “At least they’re active,” he mumbles as he picks you up to keep you out of harms way

They fall asleep in the grass, fangs still trying to dig into the ball.

Day 5 and 6 they become strong talkers and always insist on going long walks. They want to look at alll the stuff! They’re probably at the age of four or five (maybe six) and Beel deems them behaved enough to see some of his favorite restaurants in the Devildom.

You eat so much you think you’ll be sick. You have three boys who will gladly help you with the rest. They fight over an extra-hard crunchy baguette and don’t seem to have the concept of sharing at this point. They’re fussing and butting heads and Beel notices their horns are breaching.

You bag everything to go and Beel offers to fly you all home since you’re absolutely stuffed. He barely hears it, but a tiny little whine is trying to harmonize with his wings. One of them has grown wings (it was Baal).

That evening is spent with Beel and Belphie gently bumping them with their horns to coax them out.

You’re constantly portioning food and trying to make it fair. Beel is a good mediator. He won’t let his kids starve by any means but if they won’t share after he’s explained (and re-explained) why it’s nice to do so, he just eats the thing so they have nothing to fight over

They learn that lesson in the dead of night when they sneak down for their own raid and use each other (and the cabinets/drawers) like a jungle gym to get to the good stuff. Whatever they grab, they split. When Beel catches them, some kind of chocolate thing over his face, Baal looks unapologetic and Hesperus just asks if he wants a bite

Beel is not a disciplinarian. You will have to do that.

Overall the boys are very helpful. They will help bring in groceries and clean up the yard with their uncles. They really love doing the latter because the find all kinds of bugs. They try to give them to Mammon and Lucifer but both of them hate them. A lot.

Belphie notices them and pays them in food to put bugs in Lucifer’s office and bed. No regrets. Satan joins in on this with fancy foods from his foodie connections. They are the unofficial mascots of the Lucifer Sucks Club

Day 7 involves visiting some of Beel’s club activities and the members being absolutely in love with the kids. They get them tiny Fangol jerseys and they run around with the ball. It’s a good day with lots of cute pictures.

They try to hype of the twins and put them on their shoulders but it was here you learned Baal doesn’t like Hesperus getting too far from him and DEFINITELY doesn’t like him being around a bunch of strangers. You don’t know if he thought they were taking him away, but they definitely got dive-bombed by a tiny flying ginger.

Beel has to console him and keep them together for a few hours until he calms down. Simeon overheard the commotion (actually: heard it from Solomon, who was told by Asmo) and offered to make some Celestial Treats to “share the heritage” since Beel is technically an angel.

The twins also love Luke TO DEATH and he is extremely stressed out. They’re cute but very strong and accidentally kind of rough. They chase him too. They want to climb on him; one is enough to knock him off guard and two practically smother him. Send help.

Simeon is absolutely in love with them and the boys cuddle him and shake him down for sweets as nicely as they can.

Diavolo may not be as close to Beelzebub as he is Lucifer, but he still wants to see the children. Demon children are a beautiful thing (and he wants an excuse to get out of work)! On Day 8, Barbatos whips up a very fancy meal which the kids are all for. They like playing hide and seek with Diavolo. You and Lucifer both about shit a brick when they take to climbing on chandeliers and up into the crevices of the castle. Hesperus learned to fly that day, and refused to come down for Lucifer.

Day 9, Barbatos and Simeon invite them to a garden-style orchard to pick fruits and vegetables. They boys are covered in dirt and have leaves in their hair but they are very proud of what they picked and can’t wait to make things to eat (they look very cute in overalls).

Somewhere between Day 8 and 9 both boys have gotten into the habit of shucking off their shirts to let their wings stretch out. When they don’t feel like talking, they sound off with their wings. Beel has adopted this habit and can usually be seen shirtless or in one of those muscle tees with the holes in the side.

On Day 9 the boys decide they want to make a big buffet for the class since Beel took a lot of pictures. They know basic knife skills and have special protective gloves and things like that. Beel bought you all matching aprons. The whole thing goes relatively smoothly; you have a family tray ‘for sampling’, and a bigger portion that will be taken to the class

All bets are off when it comes to making desserts. It’s hard to get the batter into the pan before they’re trying to “lick the bowl clean” (it’s not even empty). You end up with two chocolate-smeared demons that Asmo very reluctantly lets into his bath. You help wash. Beel supervises and is prepared to catch these crafty, sweet gremlins in towels.

Day 10, you make your way to the classroom. The boys want to dig into the buffet (”But your friends are doing it!”) and they almost forget to do the report. They talk for a little bit, pause for a snack. It’s pure bribery. They are finished and rewarded with more food. Beel strings up all his photos at the front of the classroom as the boys sit in your lap and eat.

They make their way to the summoning circle and the teacher has a hard time determining their age. These two are built like brick houses. Are they in the upper percentile for everything or actually older? They’re either very tall eight-year-olds or the age limit goes above 10. Results are inconclusive.

You get a B that is argued to an A on Satan and Lucifer’s behalf. The teacher tried to argue that they were a little unruly and showed a lack of discipline but duh, they’re kids!

Hesperus growled something out in pure demon and you’re not sure what it was. Judging by Belphie and Satan’s expression, it’s probably something a parent wouldn’t want their kid to say. Who knows where they picked it up from?!

Baal just looked like he wanted to bite the guy’s nose off, and has taken a protective mantling stance on Beel’s shoulder.

You walk them to the summoning circle and the twins are just as sad as Beel. They want to stay. Baal is crying silently and can only manage to bring his horns out and bump heads. Hesperus makes you promise to cook lots of food ‘for when we come back’ and that he’ll even wash dishes if you promise.

You give them kisses and wipe Baal’s tears away, to which he gently teethes on you. Hesperus just hugs his brother from behind, the two disappearing in thick clouds of smoke.

The class goes on casually as people pick at food and gush about the twins. You stay behind with Beel to pack up the uneaten food. He’s very solemn as he’s taking all the photos off the board, handling them with care.

“So, uh...why the photos?” you’ve tied up the last bag and have it sitting on the big catering trays Simeon lent you.

“I didn’t want to forget them like I did Lilith...not that I ever really forgot her. Sometimes it’s just...hard to remember her clearly. You know, to remember everything from before. It happens when you’re over five thousand years old.” he’s trying to smile sweetly for you but you can see the pain in it, “I just wanted to keep them with me. I didn’t get that option with her.”

Ooh boy have the floodgates opened for both of you! You hold this big six-something demon boy like he’s one of your babies and he’s never been more grateful. He feels your tears in his hair and you both have a cathartic cry. There’s no where comfortable to snuggle so you opt to heal quietly at the House of Lamentation with some of the leftover food.

It’s a quiet affair, hiding in Beel’s room. You catch him constantly touching your stomach but don’t say anything. His hand is warm and large over your stomach. You’re on the edge of a food coma when you hear him mutter, “Maybe one day.” as he gives it a little pat.

#Obey Me!#Obey Me! x Reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Beel x Reader

299 notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

sun in the shadows (03)

word count; 12,706

summary; trying to make some headway on the study leads to an interesting revelation, and progress in your friendship with noah.

notes; if this part is a little sucky, I apologise. it was a last minute addition that I created because I realised I wanted to include some extras.

warnings; brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, but it’s very mild.

The weather was improving, the drizzle of the winter and the grey skies overhead were getting lighter, the showers of rain were getting less frequent and the winter was moving on. Spring was making itself known, bulbs of daffodils were finally taking root in the soil, and green was sprouting from the earth that had been frozen over and dead only a couple of weeks ago. The watery floors were drying up, limited ice was fading away, and graduation was sitting right on the horizon for you all.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag, rooting through the contents to find a place to slip your file inside, all your notes for the class you’d be having were inside, and there was a blank page for your next session waiting to be filled out. Once it had its place, albeit getting a little bit crumbled against the other content, you removed your wallet, a few coins jingling in the bottom, and you hoped it was enough for two coffees.

There was a coffee stand not too far away, and you were hoping an extra shot of coffee before you went in might get your brain working a little faster. Only a couple of feet ahead of you was a face you recognised, a dark jumper to match dark denim jeans, a pair of boots for motorbike riding that were beginning to scuff along the edges and the toes. He was hanging over his money, a brown bag holding a pretzel and a tall cup, the tell-tale tag of a teabag hanging over the edge, and he walked away.

Joining the back of the line, you watched him go, sitting not far across the quarter with his headphones on, settling on one of the recently repainted memorial benches. He pulled the tab on eh coffee back, opening it up and a cloud of steam left the drink, curling up into the air that still held a slight chill, drifting away to disappear as he blew against the surface of the drink. In his other hand was his phone, scrolling aimlessly on it as a way to keep himself disconnected from everyone else around him and prompt nobody else to join him. His bag was out on the bench too, pushed a short distance from his body in an attempt to take up the rest of the space to deter company.

Ordering a simple set of black coffees, and finding you had just enough change for a muffin too, you waited patiently for your order, an assortment of condiments and the double-chocolate treat you’d paid for being handed to you first. There was a grinding, the slight screech of the machine as it crushed the beans to create two black coffees for you, plastic lids sealed on and two cardboard jackets fastened around them.

Balancing the load between them all, you headed over to him, using your knee to nudge the bag up the bench until it bumped his leg, and he jerked slightly, looking up to see you. Offering him a beam, his narrowed eyes lightened a little, and he sighed. Putting down his phone and moving his bag to the floor, he lifted the headphones away from his ears, and let them hang around his neck. Sitting yourself down, he slumped back into the wood, and you scooted up to sit closer to him, placing the spare coffee you’d bought for Stiles on the floor away from your feet.

“Hey, Noah!” He gave a short nod, still a little uncomfortable, and he turned to face you more. “So, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

You shrugged, opening up the bag of extras and searching through for a couple of sweetener packets, and a wooden stirrer. “I didn’t. I was just gonna’ grab a coffee before class and head to my hall early, because, y’know, studying at home is distracting.” Your hand waved off the statement, finding the packets you wanted, and clutching your cup between your knees for stability. “So, anyway I was going to text you when I got there, but then I saw you, so I figured I’d come and say ‘hey’!”

“Right.”

“So, hey!” You waved a little before taking the top from your coffee, and leaving it on the bench beside yourself. “I ask once again, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“Well, since I am the most popular guy at this college, I’m pretty busy.” He smiled a little at his own joke, particularly when you gave him a laugh, and your brow raised.

“Oh, he’s got jokes today, huh? I like it, I can roll with that.” Tipping the sugar into the cup, you added a couple of packets, before stirring it slowly. “I take it you’re free, then. I was hoping we could squeeze in some study stuff this afternoon. I have a class in a couple of minutes, but I wanted to see if you were free?”

“Well, I’m free all day. I had a six AM class.” His face screwed up at the idea, and you could feel his pain, having spent the entirety of your sophomore year with a teacher who held lectures at six AM so she could avoid her morning sickness before class, and rush home for it afterwards. Professor Anderson going off on her maternity leave was the best thing that had happened to your education that year.

“Great, I’ll sort it with Stiles, and we’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds like a thrill. I can hardly wait.” He smiles, the sarcasm just like his brothers as it came through, and you repaid him for the joke with a chuckle. While the two of you had made progress, you could tell he was still a little unsure around you. You were polar opposites and he didn’t take well to that, the atmosphere that you brought with you could be a little too much for him to handle sometimes, you couldn’t stop the guilt that was eating at you a little. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a look on your face like you want to talk about things. Just warning you, I’m not good at that heart-to-heart stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that.”

“Shut it.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, and you grinned cheesily in reply to him. “You can tell me, though. Can’t promise I’ll help, but..”

“It’s nothing weighing me down. I just wanted to apologise. I clearly interrupted your free time. You got yourself a little pretzel to eat in silence, and everything.” He offers you a blank look at your slight dig, and you only winked, waving the muffin in a bag that you’d bought, and taking a sip of your coffee once the lid was sealed back on. “People usually like it when I stop by to see them, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, really.” His words were strained, the response bringing you no relief as he forced them out, and your frown remained. “I’m serious, okay? It’s alright.”

You were trying your best but learning the lines with Noah was different to you. Upon starting college you’d been thrown in at the deep end of socialisation and a whole world you’d never quite had access to before. Coming from a smaller town that had always limited your expectations was tough, and you’d taken it differently from the way Noah had. You’d had so many experiences, becoming legal to drink and venturing beyond your comfort zone, truly leaving home and facing the idea of having your life laid out before you, the first time truly having your heartbroken, and being too far to simply collapse into the arms of your mom or dad for support when things got messed up.

“When does your class start?” You jumped, lost in your thoughts as you slumped back into the bench, and you sat up straight again, turning to find that Noah was already looking at you, eyes scanning over you slowly. It was a good reminder, time had been slipping away from you and in the ease of his peaceful and quiet company, you could have sat there for hours.

Checking your watch, you sighed, lifting your bag strap back up onto your shoulder more securely, and packing everything you had with you inside, leaving you to hold a coffee cup in each hand. “In about ten minutes.”

“How about I walk you?” He picked up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and you nodded, a warmer feeling at his offer blooming where cold guilt had been. Standing up and making sure not to spill any of the scalding coffee onto your hand. Peering around the busy campus quarters that was more filled now than it had been for months, the lighter weather tempting groups to come out of their dormitories and the cafés to gather outside instead.

He fell into step beside you, toes scuffing occasionally on the slightly uneven stonework of the quad, before it fell away into smooth concrete pathways on the way to your lecture. The grass alongside each path was growing greener, dull colour fading away into something brighter. Paper crinkled beside you, the cup of tea in his hands being finished and the cardboard cup was crushed between string fingers, knuckles even paler than usual as he crumpled it up, and as you approach the closest bin, it was disposed of.

Your fingers flexed around your coffee cup, almost having forgotten that it was there as the heat from the two began to fade away a little. Taking a sip, the refreshing burst of sweetened caffeine was like a spark to your system, and you revelled in it. “How do you take your coffee?”

You lower the cup from your lips, swallowing your mouthful, and you couldn't stop the rise of your brows once you turned to look at him. “Creamer, usually. I like a caramel flavoured one. But, since I’m not big on creamer in packets or from street vendors, this one just has sweeteners.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and your lips pressed together tightly to try and contain the smile you wanted to let free, silence forming between you both for a moment, a further gathering of steps as the two of you went on, your building coming into sight again. “Did you watch the news last night?”

“Is this small talk?”

“It’s an attempt at small talk.” He winced, and you chuckled, a small smile on his features as the fear of judgement or humiliation washed away, and he gave a sigh.

“Okay, let's try this.” Your mind spun, searching for a track of something to talk about, and a thought clicked into space. “If you could watch one genre of movies for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Comedy. Like, comedy-action. You know, ones like ‘Jumanji’ or something?” He was quick with it, certain about his answer, and you nodded.

“Yeah? That was quick. How come you’re so sure?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, one hand coming up to hold his bag strap, swinging it to the side to be able to get inside, and fish out the paper bag with a pretzel inside. “I guess I just think they’re good for you. Good for the soul. They have action and it keeps you a little on the edge of your seat, but it’s funny. It's easy-going, when you’ve got anxiety, or you’re having a bad day, or you just want background noise, they’re perfect.”

“Alright. Fair enough. Okay, tricky one.” his eyes narrowed a little, but an amused look passed over his features while he waited. “If you had to choose specifically between comedy and action, which is it?”

“It’s got to be action. Because comedy usually means Adam Sandler or Seth Rogen, and some of their comedies are good, but some are jus-” He paused, jaw dropping a little, and his hand came out, pausing in front of your to bring you to a halt too. A smile curled on your lips, and he looked shocked. “Holy shit, you’re good!”

“Ask a basic question that people are passionate about, it always leads to more options, and everyone always wants to talk about something fun.” His head shook slowly, as though he was in disbelief, and you took a dramatic bow, trying not to spill the coffees in your hands as you giggled. “Give it a go, I bet you can do it.”

The paper in his hands crinkled, your footsteps taking up again, and the two of you were making your way towards the building once again. Taking a bite from his pretzel, a piece torn away with his teeth, he thought it over. “Does your family have any secret or ‘famous’ recipes?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Kudos to you, Noah.”

“Thank you. I thought about it for, like, eight whole seconds.” He grinned, the joke moving away from you both as you left it behind, and you thought about his question.

“Maybe it’s not my family recipe, just a personal one, but I’m great at making lasagne.” He scoffed, and you nudged him with your elbow. “I’m serious! I make a great lasagne!”

“You don’t seem like a cook to me, is all! You seem like the sort of person who’d manage to burn a pit of water.”

“You can’t burn water, an.. oh, I just got it. You jerk.” It was a joke, your nose screwing up as you stuck your tongue out at him, thanking him a second later as he held the door open for him. The bright lights of the outside changed to artificial lights in the halls, not as much coming through the windows as trees outside managed to cast shade into the building. “Well, I can cook. I love to cook, and I’m good at it. Especially lasagne. My family are generally the only ones who have ever had it, and thanks to that insult, you’ll never have it.”

“Oh, woah, no! You have to let me try it now. Prove me wrong, or I’ll be forced to believe you’re bluffing.”

“You’re sneaky.” You scoffed, students filling the hall and filtering in from different sides of the building, lectures in different halls all waiting to take place, and you stepped to the side of the corridor once your doorway was within reach. “If you’re lucky.”

“I’m betting on that.”

Glancing back, Stiles was already inside, as expected. Stiles Stilinski had never once been on time, he was either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, and since he’d spent the night with Derek, who was an early bird, you’d figured which one today would be. His head was slumped on his hm half-asleep and on the verge of drooling as he sat there, and you chuckled, turning to Noah. “Thanks for walking me. Also, thanks for small-talking with me.”

“Thanks for the advice on small talk.”

“I’m gonna’ head inside, but, I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded, confirming the times with you, and lingering a moment longer. It was quiet, but not so tense, and he rolled on the balls of his fete, the half-eaten pretzel in his hands was seemingly abandoned as one hand tucked into his jeans pockets, the other hanging limply while holding the delicacy by his side.

“Thanks for sitting with me. This wasn’t so bad. It was almost fun.”

“You know, one day, you’re gonna’ tell me you had fun with me. I look forward to that day.” He smirked, your head tipping to the side at the expression.

“If you’re lucky.” He was repeating your own words back to you, and you beamed at the chance. Backing away from him slightly, you fixed him with the cheekiest glance you could as you walked through the doorway.

“I’m betting on it.”

You could hear his laugh once you were gone, into the classroom and beginning to take the steps up to a seat beside Stiles that he’d reserved for you, his bag sitting on it. He’d already gotten his equipment out, notepads and pencil laid out in a somewhat organised mess on top of the desk.

Placing the two coffees down, you moved Stiles bag to the floor, tucking it behind his chair and a soft snore made itself known from him, the boy not doing well with early mornings but he never had, not once in your years of knowing him had he handled it very well, so it was no surprise.

“Opening up your bag, you dropped your notebook down onto the surface with a loud ‘slapping’ sound, and he jerked upwards, flailing as he did, and almost knocking the coffees over. Blinking quickly and shaking sleep away, he looked around, eyes wide as he finally focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” He chastised you, leaning back in his seat and holding a hand over his heart. “I was dreaming about high school, I thought you were my lacrosse Coach waking me up for falling asleep in class again.”

“Maybe I am.” You winked, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Drop and give me twenty, Stilinski! Right now!”

“Don’t do that, it’s eerily accurate.” He cringed, shuddering a little, before a wide smile replaced the horrified expression that had morphed, and you pushed a coffee over to him. “You brought me a coffee?”

“Yes, I did. It’s bribery.”

“Oh? What am I being bribed for?” He was curious, rooting through the bag of condiments for it and taking the plastic lid from the cup, steam curling out into the air. Taking an ungodly and certainly unhealthy amount of sweetener and sugar packets to load into his coffee.

“Your free time this afternoon. I’m thinking about getting some of my study done, I can get all the work for the next couple of sessions sorted now, but how do you feel about being asked some later?” He tipped them in, a drop of coffee flying up over the edge and landing on the desk as he stirred his drink with vigour, that same hyper excitement that he always had.

“Can’t I just fill them out now?”

“It’d be better if I could get your responses with Noah.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and making a scene of it, but there was a smile that told you he already agreed.

“You should have brought me two coffees, but fine.”

You let out a victorious ‘aha!’, and shook the little brown paper bag that was still sitting on your half of the desk at him. “I also brought you half of a muffin!”

“Only half of a muffin?”

“Well, it was none, but since I didn’t eat it yet and I’d feel bad eating it in front of you, I decided to share it.” You tore it in half, pushing half across the scratched and vandalised wooden surface to him. Crumbs were left along the surface, and Stiles pressed the pad of his finger along them to gather them all up.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, what I meant was; wow, a full half of a muffin!” He cheered, much more enthusiasm, and you nodded.

“Much better.” At the front of the classroom, your tutor entered, door slamming behind him as he kicked the wedge out from underneath, and his case was placed down on the desk. The room began a hushed quiet, save for the loud slurping of Stiles with his coffee beside you.

“You know,” Your best friend didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, everything he did was more like a dramatic stage whisper on a Broadway show, and a few dirty looks were sent his way. The professor was used to this, a year of experience and advice from previous tutors guiding him to ignore Stiles’ fidgeting and chatter. “You’re going to have to convince Noah to do this.”

Slumping down in your seat a little more, you turned your head to him, nibbling on your half of the muffin. “I already did.”

“What?” This time he was hushed, the man standing at the front near his desk, trying his best to give extra advice to everyone and answer any common questions that he’d been emailed. You’d have to catch the after-class notes in your emails. “When d’you do that?”

“This morning before class. I saw him while getting coffee for you and we walked over.”

Stiles huffed, his brows being pulled together slightly. “Okay. Damn, he was my last free shot at getting the afternoon off.” You grinned, pinching at your friend’s cheek, and he smacked your hand away. “Quit it, I’ve told you not to do that before.”

“In case I pinch your moles off?”

“That's where my power is. My funny is in my moles.” He hissed, only making you laugh more, and you covered your mouth with your hand over his silly superstitions.

“Whatever, freak.”

“Hoe.” He snarked back, and you grinned, punching at his shoulder as best you could from this angle, and he reached up a hand to rub at it. “So, if we’re doing this, I at least want to do it at my place. I’m going out this evening, I gotta’ be ready. Derek’s sisters are coming up to visit.”

“It won’t take long, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out his phone and keeping it ducked from view. He was texting his brother, letting him know to be ready, and at what time your class would be ending, giving him a little time to prepare. Opening your book up and flicking to the page you had marked, it was a journal written about the study of the ways that twins raised in different households could grow up similarly, and you were hoping to adopt some of the content for your study.

“So, what’ve you got done so far?”

Stile sighed, flicking open his notebook, and you were shocked by the fact that he was already at the end of it. There were pieces of paper stuck in, a list of book references on one of the tabs down the side of a page, and only a few blank pages left at the back.

“Oh, wow, okay.” You stared at your notebook, barely reaching a quarter of the way through with the notes you’d been making, and it looked like Stiles was ready to start making progress towards a conclusion for his hypothesis. “So, you’ve got a whole lot done, then.”

“Yeah, well, I want to spend as little time in a prison as I possibly can.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pages crammed full of information as he flicked through to find a blank one. “Plus, I didn’t want to go and interview inmates on my own, so I wait until Derek has free time to go with me, and I get as much done in those sessions as I can.”

“You’re gonna’ be done weeks before I am.” You pouted, your pen twirling at the top corner of a page, drawing a collation of pretty flowers to form a border, and he chuckled.

“I have easier test subjects than you do. They’re already guilty and behind bars, they’re more than happy to open up. You’ve gotta’ deal with Noah.”

“That’s true.” You grinned, thinking back on the conversation you’d had with the other twin that morning. When he was alone, it wasn’t so bad, he talked more and he wasn’t so worried about judgements, but as soon as there was someone else who might hear, he completely closed down.

“Hey, seriously, we have ages left. You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

“I’m just freaking out a little bit, because this is the last hurdle, y’know?” He nodded, and you could see whatever it was he was thinking practically swirling in his eyes, because Stiles’ emotions were open to read like a book.

“It’s terrifying. It’s, like, what the hell are we supposed to do when we finish?”

“I don’t know.” Your head dropped to your hands, fingers soothingly rubbing at your temples. A large hand landed on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. “What I do know, though, is that if I don’t get on with coming up with some more content, I’m never gonna’ finish this study in time.”

“Well, put your headphones on and come up with some questions.”

You did as told, plugging your earbuds in and choosing some classical music that would make it easier to concentrate. Opening one of your survey works back up to the page you’d left off at, your eyes began to flicker over the pages, picking out the useful information. Once you had a list built, you had a foundation to work from, questions to create and organise into groups, different sessions being able to come together.

Beside you, Stiles’ hand never seemed to stop rising, a constant dialogue with your tutor as he checked his work and ironed out any kinks in his study. He was also full of chatter and laughter, getting along with everyone around him and asking about their works, making you turn your music up several times just to be able to concentrate. But, by the end of the session, when Stiles was tugging your earbud out and telling you your class was over, you had a solid three pages worth of questions that had been split up into sessions, and ready to be worked through.

“Pack up and get ready to go. I have plans to get ready for.”

Stiles already had his bag in his arms, notebook tucked inside and pens and pencils put away, two empty coffee cups and a muffin wrapper sitting out, which he quickly gathered up, once his bag was on his shoulder. He was gone, walking past you and down to the waste bin at the front of the hall to dispose of them, his fingers tapping idly on his thigh once he was done.

You gathered your belongings, packing them away and curling the wire of your headphones back up neatly, making sure everything had its correct place in your bag, before following him down and out of the steps.

The halls were filled once again, the two of you navigating through crowds to the outside of the building, and you followed him in his diversion across the pathway, all the way to his car. Some students had already left, spaces beginning to empty out as a bottleneck effect took place at the only entrance and exit to this carpark.

“Where’s your car?” The dirty blue jeep was one of the only ones left in the parking lot, Stiles looking around for your vehicle, and you sighed.

“Don’t get me started on that hunk of junk.” You growled, stomping a foot on the floor as Stiles laughed. Opening the driver’s side door, he hopped up inside of it, legs dangling from the chair. “I’m trying not to use it as much. It splutters when it starts up and I have to try it a whole bunch of times, so the less I use it, the closer to graduation we can get before it eventually taps out.”

“You ever think about just getting it fixed?”

“Oh, big words from the man whose engine is held together with duct tape.” Your hand rubbed over the hood of the car, a slightly dusty layer that made you cringe, and you wiped your hand off on your jacket to stop it.

“Touché.” Stiles only smirked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to my place. I’ll be waiting for hours if you walk.”

He slammed his car door once his legs were inside, leaning over the centre console to pop open the passenger side door as you rounded the car, and he was sparking up the car before you were even fully inside. Slamming it shut, he was reversing from his spot as you clipped in your safety belt, swinging his car around, and you gripped onto the edge of the door. “Easy there, fast and furious.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody is around.”

“Except for me, and I’d like to live until graduation.” His eyes rolled, hitting the brakes and flicking on the indicators as he was leaving the parking lot, moving out onto the main roads. There weren’t so many other cars, the mid-afternoon meaning the other students were mostly in class, in bed, or eating their lunch. College was a weird time, and while you’d loved it, you couldn't wait to regain some kind of normality. “Can we swing by my place? I need to swap out my books. I don’t want to carry all these around.”

“Okay, but be quick! I have to be ready by six and out the door by six-thirty. Derek will kill me if I’m late for this.” His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel as he changed direction to head to your place instead of his own. The space between you both was filled with the radio, the simple tunes of classic 70s anthems, the songs Stiles had grown up with, his dad’s favourite records and he played them constantly. He knew all the words, mouthing along and banging his head, pausing occasionally to check the mirrors and the roads between dancing in his seat.

Rolling the window down as he slowed in his approach to the building, afresh air swept into the carbon of the car, the slightly musty smell of the older car was something you’d miss when it was gone. The shade of the concrete cover overhead was chillier than the sunny roads, and he swung himself haphazardly into a parking space.

“I’ll turn the car around and wait here, cool?”

“I won’t take long, promise!” Hopping from the car and closing the door, you leant on the open door frame, and Stiles slouched in his seat, as he usually did. “Lydia and Ally should both be out, so there’s nobody for me to even talk to.”

“Good, because you’re chatty.” He teased, and you flipped him off, a quick walk as you headed away from him to the stairs. Once you were there, you were taking a quick jog up the sets of stairs, headed for your floor, and balancing your books in your arms carefully. Rooting through your bag to find your keys, they were at the bottom, jingling tantalisingly for you to find.

Leaving your books on the countertop of the kitchen, you shifted through them, taking the notebook you needed and leaving the rest, piling them back up and taking them to your bedroom Abandoned on the desk, you rushed to change, throwing on a bigger and warmer jumper to get through the rest of the day, phone in your pocket and a bag on your arm. Passing back through the kitchen, you were ready to grab the notebook and bag you’d left there, keys hanging in the back of the door, and you eyed the freezer.

You’d made a bet, a point to prove, and you were certain that buried somewhere deep in the bottom, you had a frozen lasagne from the last time you’d made it for Allison and Lydia. You had a few spare moments, and so you moved over to the freezer, opening the door and crouching to scan over all the shelves.

Running your fingers over frozen plastic, you searched for the right one. Tinfoil crinkling in the back, behind a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a tray of alcoholic ice cubes, was a tray of lasagne. Pulling it out, the cold chilled your arm, even through the layers of your hoodie, and you used your foot to close the freezer while wrapping the tray in the nearest tea towel for an extra layer.

Placing your notebook over it and holding it in both arms for security, you clicked the latch onto the door, keys in your pocket and bag on your shoulder to let it swing closed behind you.

Stiles saw you coming, his head snapping over to the metal door between the stairwell and the parking lot when it fell open, backing through it and his brows raised. Opening up the passenger side door, he took the lasagne from you when you handed it over, climbing back into the vehicle.

“This is cold. What is it?”

“Lasagne.” You settled it onto your lap once your safety belt was on, folding the towel underneath to keep your lap from getting chilled and painful, and he nodded. The engine was still running, and taking off the brakes, he was pulling out of the space again.

“So, not that I don’t love a home-cooked meal, but I’m going out for dinner. Why the traybake?”

“I have a point to prove to Noah.” You were looking out of the window, but you could feel his gaze on you, making you a little uncomfortable, and you turned to face him. His eyes were flicking between you and the road, brows furrowed, a stare like he was trying to figure you out, before he let it go. “He told me I looked like I couldn't cook, and it’s a battle I’m going to win.”

“Well, alright then. Save me leftovers?”

“We’ll see.” You winked, and he grinned, eyes flicking to the tray in your lap, before back to the road.

It was only a short journey, the distance between your place and Stiles’ building was short for a walk and even shorter in a car, on the edges of campus and conveniently placed, and it had been one of the building blocks of your friendship with him An easily accessible study partner, somewhere to hang out with, someone to walk home with you after a night out, someone to share a cab with, or simply knowing there was a friend so close to you.

“It’s going to be weird not living around the corner from you in just a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed, pulling into his one building sparking area and it didn’t have the luxury of being covered or underground, it was exposed each flat having allocated parking spaces, and Noah’s bike was parked underneath the shelter, you could see it from here, with a clamp around the wheel and covered from the impending and risky weather of the early months. “I have a feeling that you’ll end up living next door to me someday.”

“You do?”

He parked the car, arm behind your head as he reversed into it, ready to make a quick getaway on the next morning, or this evening, when he would invariably be late. In true Stiles Stilinski style. “Yeah. Especially after I rock whatever gown you want me to wear for being your maid of honour, someday.”

“Lydia is going to fight you for that role.”

“I will fistfight her for it.” He challenged, and you grinned, clambering down from the car as Stiles had parked a little too close to someone else on your side. With your bag on your shoulder and lasagne in one hand, you tried to squeeze around the door without scratching someone else’s paintwork.

Stiles’ arm was slung over your shoulder as you set off toward the building, the elevator being fully functional, and it was a refreshing change not need to take the stairs up to your place, or risk your life in a rickety elevator.

Throwing his keys down on the kitchen counter, they slid all the way across and to the other side, hitting the floor, and he grimaced when you turned to stare at him. “I’ll pick those up later.”

“Uh-huh.” The sounds of video games and music were coming from behind Noah’s door, though it wasn’t fully closed, only pushed halfway, and you hoped that was a sign that he was still in a good mood. Leaving your bag on the edge of the couch that was facing away from you, your hands rubbed together, glancing around at the environment you were still getting used to. “You should put this lasagne in now, so that it’s ready for after the study. Medium heat, leave the full-on tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say ‘hey’ to your brother.” Stiles’ face scrunched up, a mumble of ‘good luck’ as he picked up the tray, lifting it over his head to look in at it from underneath. Wandering toward the sounds coming from the hall, you knocked on the edge of the door, pushing it open a second later when you heard the game pause, and the music following it. Leaning on the doorframe, Noah turned to face you, brows raising slightly, and he shifted in his chair. “Hey.”

“Hi. It’s, uh, time for the study stuff, then?”

“Yeah. You okay?” He shrugged, turning back to his game and closing it off, leaning forwards from where he was sat on his bed enough to turn the console off.

“I didn’t realise we’d be doing it here. It feels more personal, somehow.” He had a large hoodie on, comfortable in his own clothes as he wore a baggy and warm outfit, the same way you often had when everything started to feel overwhelming.

“Well, this study is going to get pretty personal.”

“I know that. It’s just that right now, it feels a bit like I’m naked, y’know?” You chuckled, a momentary smile on his face flashing past, and you were glad to see it. “I just feel exposed.”

“This study is gonna’ do that, but I promise that I’ll try and make it as easy as I can. I’ll break it up, I’ll make it comfortable for you, and we’ll stop whenever you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“That’d be great, actually.” His hands rubbed together, sleeves hanging slightly down over his palms, and he looked a whole lot less terrifying right now than he did with the armour of a bike and a leather jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good, because I need you in high spirits. I brought a lasagne and I have a point to prove.”

You backed out of the room as he advanced toward you, the door closing and leaving you both standing in the hall, and he smirked down at you a little, a disbelieving expression. “You really brought that?”

“You bet I did. It’ll be ready by the time we finish.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started, huh?” He hopped over the back of the couch, settling in beside his brother, who scowled at him as his drink spilt down his shirt from the impact. Taking a seat on the other side of them both, your legs folded underneath yourself in the armchair, finding a glass of water laid out for yourself on the table, courtesy of Stiles.

They looked so different and yet so similar in this moment. You could understand how people may have confused the two of them before their styles became so radically different. In the beginning, before Noah turned to leather and a sleeve tattoo, when they both wore hoodies and band tees and had clean pale skin. With the sleeve of tattoos covered, and the pair both wearing hoodies, one with an etching across the front and the other with a faded logo from being washed one too many times,

Laying out your books, it was more of a note you’d keep to yourself, and following from that was your recorder, coated in the front pocket of your bag so as not to get crushed. Switching it on at the side, the red light flashed on to green blinking once to let you know it was active. “Can you guys do your confirmations for me while I get set up?”

“Surely can.” Stiles sat forwards, leaning down a little with his forearms braced across his knees, as opposed to Noah, who slumped back into the cushion. “Stiles Stilinski, happy to be recorded.”

“Noah Stilinski, aware of being recorded.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his brother’s dead tone, clearly not having as much fun as Stiles was, but you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, why don’t you guys tell me what it’s like to live together at college.” There was a beat of silence, and then a set of matching laughs from both of them, the two starting at one another. There was a look between them, one you didn’t quite understand, and it seemed like some kind of twin-telepathy communication.

“It’s, like, exactly the same as when we were in high school.”

“Uh, what?” Stiles interjected, and Noah turned to look at him. “It’s nothing like high school!”

“Yes, it is!” Noah insisted, and you smirked, picking up your water and taking a sip as the two stared in shock at one another. “We lived together in high school, we played video games, I did all the cooking and you did all the cleaning while dad was at work. The only thing that is different is that we can’t cheat from one another’s homework anymore.”

“We don’t drive to school together anymore, we’re on opposite sides of campus!”

“That so doesn’t count.” Noah scoffed, and Stiles twisted on the couch, his hand gestures much more emphasised than that of his brother’s and you watched the debate go down. “You can’t name any more than that.”

“I take that as a challenge.” Stiles’ head rolled side to side. “Our schedules don’t match up anymore, and we haven’t had our usual movie nights in almost six months now. I can’t bring Derek over because your room is right across from mine-”

“My room was across the hall from you at home. You just didn’t date in high school or have anyone to bring home.”

“Low-blow. Unlike some people, I didn’t want to traumatise my brother in high school by bringing someone home, for that.” Stiles reached out mid-sentence, swatting at his brother’s shoulder, before continuing; “Uh, let's see. Oh! We don’t talk anymore, you didn’t ride your motorbike so much at home, you used to ride in the jeep with me. It’s like a totally different world now.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” There was a palpable kind of feeling in the air, something between them that was sizzling with electricity, before Stiles sighed.

“It’s no big deal. The difference is just that we’re both so busy now.”

“That was really good, actually. Thanks.” The two seemed to have forgotten you were there, both flinching and turning to face you again, matching sets of honey-coloured eyes in varying shades were fixing on you again. “Speaking of what you said, though, does it ever make it hard for you guys when your class times are so different?”

“Hard to do what?” Stiles squinted at you, face set in a frown that his twin normally wore.

“Hard to hang out, talk, have that whole brotherly bond going on.” Your clarification did little for Stiles, his brows still pulled tight and frown never moving, but Noah’s face smoothed out.

“Oh.. well, I g-”

“Totally.” Noah pressed, and once again, Stiles’ head whipped around to look at his brother. “Don’t look at me like that. You basically said it, anyway. We don’t talk so much anymore. We barely know each other. You don’t even tell me about your podcast, anymore.”

“You never listened!”

“You used to tell me your problems, not broadcast them to the world with jokes and humour! I missed two episodes, and you just stopped keeping me updated on it.” The moodier twin crossed his arms over his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the environment you had unwittingly created. “I don’t know. Just feels like we used to talk a lot more.”

They both went silent, and Noah shot you a pleading look, but there was something darker behind it. It almost felt venomous, angry or defensive, as though to say ‘I told you so’ about it being more personal now that they were home. Stiles was occupying himself with pulling a loose thread on their couch cushion out and making it that much worse, distracting himself from it all. “Well, how about something a little bit lighter. Just some questions about hobbies. Stiles, what inspired you to first start a podcast?”

��Well, as you know, I never stop talking.” He smirked, Noah laughing beside him, and just like that, the awkward air between them both was completely evaporated. “I had a lot to say, I had a lot to get off of my mind. At first, it was just to get my thoughts out there. It was kind of like a recorded journey for myself, and to share with my friends from back home. But, then other people started listening. I thought it was going to be the end of my college social life, a social life that I was developing for the first time ever, and they liked it. I was just talking into a mic and getting things off of my chest, making no sense while telling stories and bitching about my homework and suddenly I had friends. It got a whole lot of followers and I made new friends,”

He paused, offering you a wink for the comment, and you beamed.

“-and I was going to parties, I met my boyfriend at a pep rally, and everything just kinda.. blossomed. The more I got out of it, the more inspired I was to keep going. I ended up making multiple videos a week, all differently themed. Sometimes movie reviews, sometimes songs, sometimes just talking. That’s how ‘Mischief Mic’ was born.”

“Alright. That was awesome.” Stiles bowed as best he could from sitting on the couch, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. “Okay, Noah, have you got any hobbies that you didn’t have in high school that you found when you came to college.”

“Not really.”

“Not even one?” You pushed, and the arms folded over his chest tightened, his gaze going to the floor, socked toes pushing into the twist cable rug. He took his glass, swigging all of it, the water draining from the glass in nervousness, and you could hear the crickets inside your mind chirping to fill the silence that had formed.

“No. Not really. I’m going to get more water, feel free to continue.”

“Uh, okay.” You pressed your pen down into your paper, drawing a line through the question on your paper as you realised you’d have no answer to that question when you listened back on the tape at a later time. “Stiles, back to you, then.”

Your next question came, and went, and Stiles was more than happy to answer them. Occasionally, Noah would answer a question, you’d be able to pin him down long enough to get a straight answer out of him, but there seemed to always be something that he needed to mess with, or fix. Almost half of your questions for him had a line drawn through, and you would have to ask them another time, and get a whole extra session in without Stiles, dragging the study out.

It was going to take you twice as long to get through it all if every time you had to ask them separately, and had to spend your time trying to force him to sit and answer. You were missing half of the information that you needed to be able to compare to Stiles’ answers, you couldn’t answer without them.

The clock ticked by, leaving you with all of your questions for Stiles answered. On a blank page, while Noah had once again been tinkering with something in the kitchen, you’d rewritten up all over the crossed out questions that would still need answers. You had doodled on the corner again, waiting for him to come and sit back down, a collection of hearts and flowers, the occasional bee or ladybug, even a couple of misshaped stars, forming a banner across the top of the page.

When he finally came to sit back down, he huffed, eyes moving to the clock as though he was waiting for this to end just as much as Stiles was, and you gave up.

“Okay, how about we just finish this up?” You had reached the end of your tether, not even bothering with the rest of the questions that were written down for him. “We got almost two hours in, that’s perfect.”

Noah sighed, something like an apology in his look as your eyes met his and he shrugged lightly. Stiles only nodded, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall, and he was grinning when he came back. Tearing a page out of your notebook for each of them, you passed it over, blank paper sitting before them, and you searched for a pen or pencil in the bottom of your bag for each of them. Placing your pen down before Stiles and a pencil in front of Noah, they both leaned forwards, picking them up. Switching off your recorder and packing it away, you were left with the two staring at you expectantly.

“Okay, Stiles, come fill yours out in the kitchen. You can’t discuss these ones.”

“Oh, some mystery. I like that.” He picked up his paper and pencil, heading over to the kitchen counter, folding the sheet in half as he did, and you nodded. Standing from your place behind the coffee table, your bag slumped a little more from where it had been propped against your leg.

“Okay, I want you both to try self-diagnosing yourself.” Stiles gasped, a little excitement lacing it, and his pencil was already moving over the paper. Noah, however, looked a little lost, looking to you for guidance. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to use professional terms, just, describe what you think, I’ll be able to figure it out, and if I can’t, I’ll ask you about it at some point.”

He nodded, pausing, not quite as eager to get into the activity as Stiles was, before the pencil finally met the paper, and the slow scratching of graphite over paper filled the silence.

Moving away to the kitchen, you searched for plates, and a dish, laying them out on the counter before moving to the oven. A wave of hot air into your face once you pulled the door open, and when it cleared, you search for the kitchen towel you’d brought with you. Wrapping it carefully around the edges of the tray inside, you pulled it out, resting it atop the oven and closing the door back up.

Flicking off the handles, the light inside went dead, and Stiles loomed up behind you. “Smells good!” He presented a piece of paper to you, your eyes flicking over what he’d written once you’d taken it from him, and everything that he’d written about himself seemed completely accurate. It wasn’t a surprising self-evaluation, Stiles had spent almost four years studying this, just like you had, and so it was bound to be accurate and professional. Even if his handwriting looked a little bit like chicken-scratch.

Noah was still working on his, and Stiles was picking at the edges of the tinfoil, trying not to touch the glass of the casserole dish and burn himself, and as soon as he had some foil pinched between his fingers, he was pulling it back. “Wait, Stiles, watch out for the-”

“Fucking steam! Oh, my God, that’s so fucking hot!”

His hand snapped back, half unpeeled as all the steam from inside clouded in the air, and his hand was clutched to his chest. He was glaring at the pot, before moving away and running his hands underneath the cold tap at the sink, his thumb rubbing over wet skin to soothe it.

A second later, Noah was appearing, placing his paper face down on top of Stiles, which now lay on the kitchen counter. “Well, now that I’ve been scalded by pasta, I’m going to go shower and get ready.”

“M’kay.” He backed away, and Noah leaned on the counter beside you.

“Looks good, but does it taste any good, is the question.” The twin you were left with was teasing you, your eyes finding him, and you raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me something to serve it up with, alright?”

He smirked, pulling open the drawer behind him and searching for a serving spoon. Slicing it into pieces, you dished it up for him, a large slab on a plate, still steaming with cheese that had only just stopped bubbling. He grabbed a fork, and one for you too, waiting patiently as you served yourself, and put whatever was left into a dish for Stiles, covering it back up and leaving it to cool.

“Okay, prepare for the best lasagne of your life.”

Picking up the papers and your plate, the two of you moved back to the couch, sitting opposite one another, and you waited with excitement. Taking a piece off of his plate with the edge of his fork, he raised it, blowing cold air over it for a few moments, before taking the bite. There was a tense few moments, while he chewed, face unreadable, before he was swallowing the mouthful.

“Well?”

You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, a smile on his face at the desperation you showed for his answer, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. This may actually be the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“Yes!” Your hands went up in the air, cheering excitedly and he laughed at your reaction, holding his hand up when you forced him to, palms slamming together in a high-five. He was tucking in again, and you reached for your plate, excited for the meal you had made, Taking a large piece on the tip of your fork, you tucked in.

The sound of Stiles’ shower was running in the background, and he was singing loudly, a song that you were certain was a TV show intro but you’d never seen the show, and there was a chance it was something from Disney Channel. Picking up the pieces of paper again, you turned Noah’s around to face you.

You’d had an expectation, you knew what you thought he was going to write down, and yet you were somehow surprised and entirely not surprised at the same time. It was what you expected but with a twist. He had confidence in what he’d written about himself he was sure of it, and while there were definitely elements that you’d disagree with, there was a lot of truth to it, and you frowned, reading it again.

Noah was watching you do so, the scrape of forks over plates as the lull in chatter came back, and you place the two pieces of paper into the front of your notebook, making sure that it was all sealed tightly away. “Is it alright?”

“It’s just not what I expected from you. But, it’s perfect.”

“That feels like a backhanded compliment.” He smiled softly, but he looked nervous, and you shook your head.

“Not at all, it just means that you have a better grasp on this whole thing than I thought you did.” It was the truth, and while you didn’t want to reveal so much to him about it all without compromising your work, but it made sense. “It just feels like with the way today went, like you weren’t really so interested in it, so I didn’t expect such an accurate self-diagnosis from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed, pushing what was left of his food around the plate, and you copied him, appetite dwindling. “It’s just that when you’re here, in my apartment, and you’re asking questions about what changed and making me confront everything, it feels like real therapy. You said it was going to be casual, and this didn’t feel casual.”

“I get it. I really do, and it’s okay. I can just email you the questions you didn’t answer, and you can get around to them whenever you feel up to it, alright?” He nodded, shaking off the evening’s stress. He continued to eat, polishing off the meal that was laid out before him and settling his hands over his stomach once he was finished. There was a satisfied smile on his face, and your empty plate was soon stacking on top of his own. Leaning forwards a little, you caught Noah’s eye, and one of his brows arched up. “I can try to make it more informal, in the future.”

“That would be great, actually.”

You smiled, the consolidation made between the two of you, and your ears picked up on another sound. “Hold on, is Stiles blow-drying his hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, head turning to the closed bathroom door where his brother resided. “He thinks it makes his hair fluffy.”

“He gels his hair, though! Why does it matter if it’s fluffy?”

“He’s insane. Don’t you know this, yet?” Noah scoffed, and your giggles carried you back into the rest of the chair as you settled back into it. The evening was still waiting to come in fully. Comfortable quiet fell between you both again, and Noah moved away to take the plates to the kitchen. He left them in the sink, water running to wash them up, before storing Stiles’ lasagne in the fridge.

The aforementioned boy moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, skidding on the floors a little and clutching the towel to his waist as he hurried, making himself late with the extra-long shower and the blowdrying of his hair. Noah was washing up the plates, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, and you took that as your cue. The night was over, that much was clear, and you’d be willing to bet that he was more than eager to get back to his alone time.

Taking your bag and double-checking that you had everything, you swung it up onto your shoulder, and made your way toward the door. Hearing the shuffling of your feet, Noah turned, drying his hands on the towel beside him. “Are you going?”

“Feels like I should. Stiles will be going soon, anyway. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

“I don’t have anything to do, if I’m being honest.” He cringed at his own words, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie and making his way over to you. Undoing the catch on the door, he pulled it open, leaning against it and you linseed in the doorway.

“Since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna’ get a coffee with me?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second, and his fingers tapped anxiously on the wood of the door. “As a study subject, or..?”

“As friends.” You confirmed, his lips a thin line for only a second, before pulling up at the sides in a smile.

“Then, yeah. I’d like that.” He looked down, sweatpants and mismatching socks on his lower half, and there was a tint on his cheeks when he looked up. “Just give me two seconds to go change, alright?”

He darted away before you had a chance to reply leaving you there with the words frozen in your throat. Stiles was clattering around behind his own door, and Noah’s door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the doorway. Your hands tapped against your thighs as you waited, bag swinging on your shoulder, and only a second later, one of the doors was opening.

To your surprise, it was Stiles, flapping the flannel on his body to shake out any creases, and he stood before you. Doing a little twirl from where he stood, he began to button it up down his front, looking somewhat smart. It was a nice black and white one, no rips or tears or stains like most of his other ones, and the black stood out prominently against the white, thick patterns with flecks of grey within it.

“How do I look, then?”

“You look great, Sti. I’ve never seen you wear anything so plain before. There’s no colour.”

“Yeah, well, this is a new flannel. It’s my best one, and the skinny jeans are Noah’s. All my skinny jeans are blue or red, it was this or khakis.” He was nervous, resisting the urge to mess with his freshly-styled hair. “The place we’re going to is kinda fancy, but I don’t feel fancy enough for it. I’m gonna’ do something stupid like drop my glass and smash it or make a joke about something dumb.”

“Haven’t you met his family before?” You teased, and he huffed, searching for his keys, and finding them under the counter where he’d never bothered to pick them up from.

“No, not really. I’ve met his mom because she comes to visit a lot, and of course, his little sister, because she’s a sophomore here. But, he has a lot of family. His extended family are coming to graduation, but this is his older sister and his dad, and his uncle, and I’ve never met them before.” His keys were tucked into his back pocket, and his phone followed, your gaze moving over him.

“You got a blazer, Stiles?”

“Uh, yeah. One that my dad made me promise to bring, I wore it to my senior prom.” He shrugged, hands smoothing over his front. “You think I should wear it?”

“Go get it, show me.” He nodded, moving back to his bedroom, and you were waiting for something with orange and blue stripes to come back out, which wouldn’t surprise you. In fact, you’d always imagined Stiles going to his senior prom in a Beetlejuice suit. Noah emerged from the other side of the hall, hangers scraping over their post in a wardrobe as Stiles searched for them. “Did Stiles go to prom in a Beetlejuice suit?”

Noah paused, rolling the edges of his hoodie up, charcoal grey skinny jeans that were only a few shades lighter than the ones Stiles had stolen from him on his legs, and a pair of his usual scuffled boots. “What?”

He was laughing, loudly, shaking his head to hide his grin. “It’s a legitimate question! I have this mental image of it!”

“Unfortunately, he did not. My dad made us both go in three-piece formal suits. He saved up to have them custom made. Said that every man should have a smart suit.” He shrugged, crouching to start tying the laces on his shoes and Stiles reappeared. Over his shoulders was a dark black suit, crisp collar and pressed edges, and it was a beautiful piece of tailoring.

“You look good, Sti. Very smart, but casual. Like a polished version of your usual self.”

“Yeah? Good enough to meet Derek’s family?” His voice shook, and you wished you could ease him more.

“Totally. You look great.” He thanked you both, and Noah grabbed his wallet from the side, and his house keys, letting them both hang in the front pocket of an oversized hoodie.

“You ready to go?” He offered, hand on the top of the door, and Stiles’ head snapped up again from where he’d been checking his phone, presumably looking for texts from Derek.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re getting coffee!” You beamed, and Noah nodded, stepping a little further out of the door with you.

“Oh, well, have fun. I’ll text you updates about how it goes. I might need bathroom-break pep-talk during the night.” You waved to him as you went, wishing him ‘good luck’, before the two of you were wandering down the halls. Thumbing the button for the elevator, the doors popped open, and you were stepping inside along with Noah.

“So, you wanna’ show off those new small talk skills to me, then?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of something.” He hummed under his breath, glancing up to the top of the elevator and looking around at the posters on the walls for inspiration, and he seemed to find one. Turning his attention quickly back to you, you prepared for what he’d found. “Have you listened to any of the student bands? There’s been a lot of them growing, lately.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually.” There were several posters up around the inside of the elevator, different coloured flyers, some on shiny paper and some on smooth matte, varying fonts and designs, it was dizzying. “I haven’t, I’ve never been to see a student band. I should do that before I graduate, though. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a couple.” The door clicked open, the two of you stepping through it. Out into the setting chill of the evening that was threatening to break its way in. He chose the direction you’d be going in, heading toward the coffee shop on the side of campus that had been the first the two of you had met at when beginning the study. “Some of them are good, some of them are kinda’ average. They usually play at the bars on the edges of campus or in the places in the city, the less well-known, kinda’ alternative places. They can be fun.”

“You going out optionally to a night on the town? I’m shocked.”

“Uh, no!” He protested, grinning at you. “I’ve never been for a ‘night on the town’, and I never will. However, going to one of the few small bars around here that aren’t practically a nightclub, to listen to covers of good songs and get a pint without worrying about anyone bothering me or mistaking me for my brother, that’s nice.”

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll go to one sometime.”

“You should, I think you’d have fun.” The two of you weaved between other students, the small talk keeping up between you both as he did his best, and while it was sometimes a little stuttered and stalled, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. It wasn’t until the two of you had entered the coffee shop that he fell into tight silence again. The crowds, the rush of chatter from other groups gathered around the tables, and the friendly greetings of baristas whose chit-chat diverted to him due to his allegiance with you.

“What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Uh, just a black coffee.” He choked out, eyes flicking over all the boards, so many options up there, and you chuckled.

“Really, just a black coffee?”

“I’ve never really experimented. I just ordered whatever was the quickest and the easiest.” He confessed, already glancing back over his shoulder at the queue that was forming behind you both. “What would you recommend?”

“Hm, well, do you have a sweet tooth?” He only nodded, scratching around his cuticles on one hand and staring down at the flesh growing red, and you took his hand. Lowering it back down to his side, the hand formed a fist, flexed nervously, and you let it go, squeezing comfortingly first. Turning to the barista, she was still waiting patiently, and your eyes moved over the boards overhead. “Two mint and dark chocolate hot cocoas.”

“That sounds really good, actually.” He leaned down, mumbling the words into your ear to make sure you heard the quiet tone over the talk in the small coffee house.

“And, two croissants, too.” She rang it up on the machine, and you leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any of the warm and fresh ones straight from the oven?”

“We made a fresh batch about twenty minutes ago, they’re cooling. I’ll get them from the back for you.” She finished it with a wink, passing the card machine over to you once you’d produced your card from your wallet. Swiping it across the reader, you moved to the end of the line, and she moved away to begin preparing your order as someone else took over at the counter.

She was working, creating two beautifully constructed hot chocolates for you both. Placing them down on the counter before you, once they were garnished with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, she disappeared into the back room. Taking one of the ceramic plates with her, you were happy to see her bypass the glass cabinet with the older ones in, and only a moment later, she was coming back. Two fresh croissants on a plate, still warm and soft to the touch, and she handed those over as well.

Noah had been scouting for a place to sit, choosing which was the best one, and he carried both of the drinks while you carried the pastries, guiding you to the seat he’d chosen. It was tucked away in the back, a small loveseat sofa with a low sitting coffee table in front of it, and as soon as the paper cups were down on the surface of the table, he was dropping down into the seat.

“It feels like rush hour on the highway, but with coffee.” He mumbled, and you settled onto the couch beside him passing him his drink over, and he stared at it curiously. “What about the whipped cream. Do I eat that first? Scrape it off? Mix it in?”

“Any of the above.” You grinned, taking a wooden stirrer from the condiments tray in the middle and beginning to stir the cream into your hot chocolate. He placed it down, copying your actions, stirring slowly and trying not to spill any over the edges, but it was an impossible feat to achieve. Sticky droplets left over the edges of your cups and his, creating rings on the table that you had to mop up with tissues. “Okay, try it. This is one of my favourite orders here. It’s bitter because of the dark chocolate, but also sweet. Reminds me of you.”

“Now, that one is a backhanded compliment.” He muttered, taking a sip of the drink, and your lips rubbed together.

“Not everything is a backhanded statement, you know. I didn’t intend for it to be mean, it’s just the truth. You’re all dark and moody, but I can already tell you’re sweet on the inside.” You sipped your drink to finish your statement, and he filled the time where he didn’t know what else to say by pulling a chunk off of his croissant. Chewing on it idly, he settled back into the cushions, and you lifted your legs up to fold underneath yourself as you turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me a lot of questions today.”

“You didn’t answer many, though. You kinda’ have to give me this one.” He scowled falsely, but nodded, licking a flake of pastry from his lower lip. “Not that I think you need it, because personally, I think you’re just fine, but why are you so scared about therapy? The idea of it, anything to do with it, it makes you so closed off. Even more than usual.”

His eyes moved over the room, nervously, before scanning both you and the table, and you put your drink down, holding open palms up to him.

“No recorder, no study. I’m just curious.”

“Okay.” He sighed shakily, and slumped back. “Well, after my mom died, my dad made me and Stiles have therapy when we started acting out. We had a therapist who came to the house, and she was great, don’t get me wrong, but I hated it. I didn’t want her to tell me how to grieve or mourn, and I didn’t want her to tell me how to move on. Stiles needed all the advice he could get, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it my own way. Now, the idea of therapy, brings back all those feelings of sadness and pressure and stress.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You reached out, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and his gaze fell to the contact. “Genuine sympathy and sorrow, not just that thing girls do that you hate.”

“Stop hanging things I’ve said over me, I don’t remember half of them. I blackout in social situations.” He grinned, moving past the moment, and you withdrew your touch.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I understand the nervousness of being in a study.”

“Yeah?” He picked up the rest of his croissant, a large chunk of it being eaten, as he waited for you.

“Yeah. When I moved here, I was so nervous. I was beginning to take my course and I didn’t really have any friends, and there was a senior who needed freshmen for her study.” Noah grinned, settling in for the story and sipping his drink. “She was doing a study about the difference between kids who travelled far from home for college alone as opposed to those who were still close to home, and whether it impacted social clubs, grades, all that. To be fair, it was an awesome study.”

“It sounds like it.”

You smiled, swirling the cup in your hands to gather any loose powder that may have begun to separate and gather at the bottom. “Well, I got drawn into it. She was a senior, and she was nice. I had no friends yet, I was in a flat-share with Allison and Lydia and three other girls who were all too busy getting adjusted to college themselves. So, this senior, she invited me to a party, and then another one, and suddenly people started wanting to be my friend because I was the freshman who hung out with seniors. I figured it would all drop away when her study ended and she didn’t need me anymore, but by then the whole social hierarchy had done its thing, and there I was.”

You shrugged, and Noah was hiding a shit-eating grin behind his mug. “So, you were just a little freshman lab rat, then?”

You scoffed, your laughter mixing with his, and the two of you were left in subtle amusement. His laughter was cut short, though, brought a rapid halt when a set of legs bumped against your table on the other side, followed by two more behind them.

“Hey, girl!” One of the girls on the cheer team, a lacrosse player behind her and a girl who you recognised from your psychology class texting on her phone. “Saw you over here, wanted to know what your plans for the evening were. We’re going to do some karaoke and get some food, you wanna’ come?”

Your eyes moved to Noah, whose attention was fixed on the floor again, as though the splintering wood was of utmost interest. “Maybe another time. I think we’re good here for now.”

“Oh, you sure? I think it could be super fun, you should both come.” The invitation was now extended to you both, and you shook your head at her despite it.

“Seriously, you should go, if you want to,” Noah whispered, and when you turned back to him now, he’d dared to look up, chewing on a lower lip that would go raw, but he met your gaze.

“No, I’m sure. I’m having fun here.” You held his gaze for a second longer, before turning to her, and confirming your denial, and she smiled, promising to make plans with you soon, before she was walking away. Noah was fidgeting beside you, shuffling in his seat, and you could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. “I’m serious, Noah. I’m having fun, and I’m perfectly happy here with you, right now.”

He was trying not to grin, a smile that was being bitten back on the inside of his cheek. “Well, for the record, I’m having fun too.”

“What was that?” You cupped your ear, challenging him to repeat it, even though you had heard it perfectly, and by the look on his face, he knew the game you were playing.

“I said I’m having fun. I won’t deny it.”

“Two victories in one day, for this gal. I’m breaking down all your walls, Noah Stilinski.” You poked at his cheek, and he swatted your hand away, taking a bite from your croissant as punishment, and you tried to snatch it back from him.

“Two victories, one loss. You’re not getting this croissant back, now.”

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wonderwomanfantasy · 3 years

Text

mine to keep

I’m in a mood so it’s angst o’clock

Alpha!Hawks x Omega!Reader

warnings: agnst, talks of vilonce, swearing, abo things

word count: 1,300 (about)

summary: you are Kiego’s only weakness, and he does everything he can to keep you safe but sometimes his best just isn’t enough.

You had been Hawks’s first fan. He had just been 18, just starting his work as a pro hero and he was still an unknown name in the world at larfe. Just some teenager with wings. You were walking home struggling to carry all of your groceries and well, he had nothing better to do.

“Need a little help?” he asked swooping down in front of you. You flinched, seeing an unfamiliar Alpha aper in front of you. “With your groceries,” he said.

“Oh sure, thank you,” you said handing a few of the bags to him.

“No problem, that’s what heroes are for,” he said beaming.

“Well thank you for taking time out of your busy hero schedule to help me,” you said kindly. You had been the first one to ask for his autograph, and even as he got bigger in the hero world, he would still make sure to spend time with you and make sure that you were doing okay.

Keigo didn’t really know what the two of you were, you were close, sure, but you were an omega, would you really get close with an Alpha like him under normal circumstances? He certainly wanted a little more than to be just friends. He didn’t know if you felt the same way until you called him to help you during your heat, and he was more than happy to come to your rescue one more time.

Hawks wouldn’t pretend that being a hero’s partner was easy, but you never seemed to mind, and he couldn’t be happier to have you by his side. Although he still sometimes wondered if you resented him for keeping you out of the limelight, if you’d like to be a celebrity like him, or if you understood his worry. You were quirkless, and an omega, he couldn’t help but get overprotective when you were involved.

But even if Hawks did his best to keep you safe and keep the media’s attention off of you, sometimes he failed. There were rumors that Hawks had a lover, why else would he stay suspiciously single when models and heroes threw themselves at his feet? There were even accounts that he smelled like an omega from time to time.

Hawks thought he’d done an okay job keeping you safe, but it seemed he was wrong. Hawks had been working the Keres case for months now. Keres was a nasty little slime who got his kicks kidnapping and torturing defenseless Omegas, it made him sick but now he had finally caught him. Keigo was proud of himself, He had worked his ass off and nearly got killed, but it was all worth it.

“Any last words before you spend the rest of your life rotting in prison?” He spat clapping quirk canceling cuffs on his wrists and shoving Keres down in a chair and locking him down. while he waited for backup, he was too badly hurt to take care of it himself.

Keres just laughed. “Shame you caught me today instead of yesterday,” he said.

“Why do you say that?” hawks asked, not really all that interested. Hawks closed his eyes and thought about if yesterday had been some kind of anniversary.

“(Y/n) (L/n) she’s a pretty young thing, didn’t get nearly enough time with them.” Keigo’s eyes snapped open.

“What did you say?”

“(y/n) (l/n), they live alone in that big stone apartment building on the corner of fifth and blossom, apartment 307,” he said and hawks felt his heart drop into his stomach, he hadn’t seen you in a few days but that was normal- you would have called if you had been in trouble, he would have known.

“Oh that got your attention didn’t it birdy,” Keres teased leaning forward in his chair.

“I’d been watching that one for a while when imagine my surprise, the number two hero comes waltzing into their arms. I knew they were something special, and I’m glad you agree. I knew then I just had to have em, add them to the collection.”

In a flash there was a feather pressed against his throat, hawks’s head was spinning.

“What did you do to them?” he demands,

“Ohh hawks you’ve spent how long looking for me? You know what I did to them,” horrible images flashed in front of His eyes, he had spent hours looking at the victims, tortured and killed in the slowest ways possible. He felt like he was going to throw up imagining you in the same position.

“But if you’d like, I’ll tell you how they screamed,” Keres hissed, his eyes wide with glee.

“Oh I can smell you getting mad Hawks, such a bitter scent that is why I prefer omega’s, much sweeter and they never get mad, just scared, your little plaything was so scared Hawks, shame I didn’t get the chance to finish them off,”

Something caught in his throat, that was right, Keres liked to keep his victims for days, if he took you yesterday, then you’d still be alive. Hawks couldn’t wait for backup anymore, and he didn’t give a shit how badly he was hurt he had to find you before it was too late.

Keigo burst into your apartment trying to look for any clues, but he was so emotional he could barely think, at least there wasn’t any blood. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was your bloody corpse. He was panicking, he knew that he also knew that he needed to calm down if he wanted to make any progress but he couldn’t help himself.

You had been there for him since day one, He loved you more than anything, it was driving him insane to think that some sociopath had gotten his dirty hands on you, and it was all his fault. If he had just been there to protect you.

“Keigo?” you squeaked reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. Keigo jumped about a foot in the air before whirling around. You were just there, a little concerned, but fine, not a scratch on you.

“Keigo what- oof” your words were cut off when he pounced on your pulling you into a bone-crushing hug his wings coming around the back to cage you against his body. He was trembling and before you could say anything else his legs gave out and both of you collapsed to the floor.

You could hear how ragged his breathing was and feel his tears hitting your shoulder, even if you didn’t know what was wrong you knew he was hurt. Hawks had your arms pinned to your side so you did all you could, and purred softly and mushed your cheek to the top of his head, letting him hold you as he cried and shook.

“I thought he got you, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” he sobbed through a shaking breath as he tried, and failed, to calm down.

“No one got me Keigo, I’m fine, I’m here,” you said, finally wriggling your arms free of his grasp so you could cup his face and whip away his tears.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he breathed as you brought his face to yours and carefully scented him. It was a lot easier to breathe with your comforting and familiar smell surrounding him.

“But you didn’t, I’m right here,” you soothed. Hawk’s arms went lax around you, all his energy and adrenaline gone. Even though he was calmer now, Hawks didn’t let you go for the rest of the night.

#hawks x reader #bnha hawks #keigo x reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia abo #my hero academia head cannon

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achillieus · 3 years

Text

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

quick note: i wrote this back in 2018 after meeting sebastian in greece but i redited it now, so if you see any mistakes or typos please tell me :)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

part: 2/6

(other parts) (masterlist)

It’s Monday when they come back from their small trip to the south. You’re watering the jasmine in your balcony when you hear the engine of Argyris’ car slowly shut down and see two figures getting out of the back seats.

It’s him and a blonde woman. You remember meeting her that night in the terrace. You’ve learnt that she’s a great actress and will play the other main character in the film.

When she notices you looking at them, she waves.

“Hey, Sebastian it’s your friend there.” She gives his shoulder a soft nudge.

We’re not friends. That’s what you almost yell back at her.

His head shots up, smiling.

He’s always smiling. It’s getting annoying.

You can see him going through his bag as he calls your name.

“Look, I brought you some traditional sweets.” He’s holding a small wrapped up package. He starts wiggling it in the air.

He looks so jolly and proud of himself. It makes your throat dry.

And before you can control it, you laugh. You can’t see it from where you’re standing but he bites his bottom lip at the sound.

Two hours later he’s sitting in your kitchen devouring half of the pastries he got you.

“These are actually so good, how can you not like them?” He says and it comes out all garbled. His mouth is full of sugary dough.

You do like them. But he does too. And you can find them anytime you want here. You doubt it’s the same in New York.

“They’re just not my favorite,” he nods “but thank you anyway.”

“Well let’s say you owe me,” you furrow your brows in confusion “and will repay me by sending me some of those once I’m gone.”

He laughs before taking another bite.

And as you stare at him, you notice that he’s different. His gaze is tranquil, his voice is soft and he has some cream at the corner of his lips.

Like that, he looks more like a guy you met at college than a well known actor.

Like that, we could be friends, you think.

You talk a lot. He tells you about his time in Romania and his first audition. It makes you realize you are far more interested in acting than what you thought. You tell him how you think team Iron Man is the superior team. He gasps, as if he is hurt.

He doesn’t mention his girlfriend. You don’t ask about her. It’s easier for both of you this way.

A stifling heat rises to your body as you walk under the burning sun. You don’t realize how Argyris gets you to give Sebastian a tour around the city, but you can remember a pair of light eyes pleading you.

You can easily hear him humming to himself. You turn to look at him. He’s wearing a hat and his forehead is sweating. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re in a very good mood today.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well I’m stuck with you for the day so what choice do I have?” You shrug.

He makes a face at you. You crack and a huge smile forms in your face.

He leans closer, mouth to ear and then he speaks.

“You know, I can’t tell if you hate me or just like me too much.��

His breath hits your cheek.

You try not to blink at the sudden foreign touch.

His words find your skin and they’re so clear and powerful. Suddenly you’re an open page to him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits for an answer, a nod, a glance.

You are still standing close, the city sounds doing nothing to ease the heated silence between you two.

He realizes you’re not going to give him any response so he lowers his eyes.

And then, when he looks up again, it almost feels like he gives you mercy and agrees to let you get away with it this time.

He smiles.

“So where is Acropolis?”

When he’s lying on your couch after six hours of being a tourist and under the summer sun he looks exhausted. Still he’s his typical talkative self.

“You are always so pumped.”

“And you rarely are.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?” you ask each other at the same time. It seems like you are two different sides of the exact same coin. One body. One heart.

“Today was nice.” He stretches his arms. “Thank you.”

You open the window. There is barely any wind out there. The air smells of hot cement and flowers.

The man on your couch has closed his eyes, breathing softly.

You try to ignore him over and over for the last days. Until you cannot ignore him anymore; your world has come to an end.

So many people know who Sebastian Stan is.

Only few will ever know him like this; falling asleep on a cheap brown couch with his hair messy, his chest rising and falling and his mind empty of thoughts.

These are photographs of your memories now.

An involuntary smile spreads across your face at the thought.

You see him swift and his hand clenches tightly around a throw pillow.

“Stop looking at me like that you creep,” he says.

“Come closer,” he means.

The sun is long gone and he’s still asleep when there’s a knock on your door. It’s Argyris.

“Please tell me he’s here.”

You nod and motion towards Sebastian’s drifted away body.

“When I left you this morning, I didn’t actually think you’d last this long together.” He tells you the moment he sees him.

The words fall out of his mouth too easily for your liking. “But I should have known better.”

You don’t understand much. You take a step out of your door. You don’t want to wake him up.

“Do you know how many times he mentioned you while we were away?’

Everything stops and falls quiet in the hall.

The words choke you. You shake your head.

“I need you to be smarter than him.” He says and touches your shoulder. “His world moves too fast for people like us.”

It’s effortless not to look at the man in front of you. It’s hard not to shallow his saying.

He wakes up an hour later. He looks at you and it feels sacred. His eyes are still red and the pillow has left a mark on his left cheek.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep here.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it was rude, you should have yelled at me to wake up or something.”

“But you looked tired.”

You carry on with doing the dishes and you hear the couch squeak as he stands up and steps towards you.

The water is refreshingly cold on your skin and the soap smells like lemon.

His hands find your waist and his touch is burning. You wish he disappears. You wish he stays for the night. You don’t even know what you’re wishing for anymore. He comes closer and rests his head on top of yours.

And then he wraps his arms around you and you get flashes of days and nights where there was not enough air for you to breath and your ribs ached.

His action is not so noble. It feels like his body steals all the rationality you have. But it gives you this feeling that there will be no more starless skies at night. And that’s enough for now, so you don’t complain.

His skin feels soft and he smells of sweat and vanilla. Somehow you find that alluring.

He looks at you for a second, like he’s trying to memorize your face. And then he pulls away completely silent.

You try to understand what he’s thinking but he gives nothing away. You were never good at reading people.

You blink and he’s almost out of your apartment.

“Goodnight” he shouts.

“Goodnight” you whisper.

You close the window. You wonder how he will spend the night. He probably won’t sleep soon. He just woke up.

But you can’t sleep either. You just move around in your bed. You sink into the sheets and try to close your eyes.

Your phone buzzes.

He follows you on Instagram.

I need you to be smarter than him.

You go through his profile. You want to think he’s doing the same. You want him to do the same.

His world moves too fast for people like us.

You sigh. Perhaps there could have been a time when you would have stayed away from him, but you can’t pretend to ignore it for much longer. And you’re scared of it. And you’re scared of him.

But you’re more scared of how hard it’s for loneliness to fade. And you wish this doesn’t end like a greek tragedy.

One day of the following week you go out for coffee. The curly haired woman comes with you. You don’t understand why. And while you’re adding more sugar to your espresso, she tells him she loves his acting. She uses all kinds of adjectives to describe it; hopeful and poignant, celestial.

You like the way she talks. She sounds beautiful. You almost envy her abundance of words.

But Sebastian stops listening.

He watches the way your fingers wrap around the sugar box. He can see your nerves and your synapses move underneath your skin and he thinks he’s watching a dance show.

He will never tell you, but it’s then; under the morning sun and with sugar in your hands, that he feels his heart beat with the power of cymbals for the first time.

He thinks you don’t have to know.

He’s wrong.

You learn the girl is an actress herself. They’ll be in the movie together. They look stellar together.

Looking at them, gives you a violent feeling that wrenches your stomach around.

You can’t hate her for that. You feel like it’s more your fault than hers. That feeling however, grabs you by the shoulders and doesn’t let go. You try not to let it show.

But for some reason when Sebastian almost touches your palm, you look at her and you’re certain this is entirely mutual.

You make a silent agreement to not include him in any of this.

“You were extremely quiet earlier.” He says as you reach the building you call home.

He wants to spend time together until his scheduled shooting. You don’t complain.

“You always say that.” You try to joke. He looks right at you.

And then you notice that his eyes aren’t the color of the sea. They’re more grayish blue. They’re like a frozen lake in December.

“I know,” he starts messing with his hair “But you can’t deny you barely talked back there.”

When you enter your apartment, he immediately throws himself on your couch. These last few days it feels like he owns that right spot there in front of your big window.

“I’ve told you, I talk when I have something to say.”

He smiles at your words.

“Then I must be lucky you talk to me.” He whispers softly.

You sit next to him. If you move a little closer you could touch him, feel his warmth. You don’t.

You never thought of how easy it has become to talk to him. You don’t keep your thoughts locked and your teeth clenched around him. And that’s a novice feeling for you.

You let your eyelids fall close and lay back.

There’s a language between you two. It starts with secret glances and whispers and now it contains words that build and ruin bodies and souls.

Sometimes you want to say them all together. Sometimes you just want to open your mouth and let everything flow out but then you’re scared you’ll make him mad. Or you’ll make him love you.

You can’t decide which is worse and that’s enough to stop you.

“What is this thing between us?” He sounds all tender-like, but his blood feels heavy at the moment. He’s not sure if he can keep breathing. He regrets the words that leave his lips, when it’s already too late.

You have the answer figured out long time before he asks. But you’re not ready to give it to him.

“I don’t know” you open your eyes “I don’t know.” You repeat.

He doesn’t tell anyone but sometimes he feels nauseous before a shooting. You can clearly see that now. His pacing up and down the room and his roaming eyes give him away.

You are surprised. You never thought he could be nervous. He looks so confident and radiant all the time; you sometimes forget he is still a regular human being.

“You have no reason to worry.” His lips twitch.

“I know.”

“But you still worry.” You grin and catch his arm to stop him from moving.

The look he gives you is acute.

“You have no reason to be sad,” he starts, without breaking eye contact “but you still are.”

You feel naked and hug yourself close.

It’s very strange to have someone scratch everything from you and see your raw truth. You’re not certain it’s something you enjoy. You wish it didn’t make you quiver.

Sebastian wishes he could scratch deeper under your dermis and your fingernails and slither there between your muscles and your heart where blood runs thick and melancholy hasn’t conquered yet.

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.

“You didn’t say anything hurtful.”

You worry your words may come out bitter. You don’t want that.

“It won’t last forever.” he says and then your name appears in his tongue. You like the way he says it. It almost sounds like poetry. “You won’t be sad forever.”

You smile and, in that moment, you aren’t a worldwide known celebrity and a girl in her early twenties. You are just two people seeking comfort.

The same night there’s a party for the first day of shooting. You don’t feel like going, but he doesn’t let you stay home.

What did you do last night?

Went to a party with Sebastian Stan, typical Thursday night.

You can picture the look on everyone’s face. It makes your lips turn upward just a little.

“I told you to be careful.” The voice sounds almost far away but your neighbor is standing right next to you as he mutters.

“I am.” You say with a laugh. He crosses his arms.

“No, you are here, watching him starry-eyed.”

Your fingers start playing with the rough fabric of your dress.

“I don’t know how to stop it.” You whisper.

He tells you to not entail yourself in something you don’t know the way out of. But what does he know about solitude and rushed breaths?

What does he know about a pair of eyes that look like a frozen lake?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

He’s watching you from afar while you talk with Argyris. He notices how your chest moves along with your breathing in a way it looks like it’s made of pure glass.

For a while he thinks of staying there and keep observing you but then Argyris leaves and you’re all alone. And he starts walking closer to you.

All eyes are on him as he goes through the main dance floor. The curly haired actress stops moving to the beat and follows him with her gaze.

They both reach you.

And you know he’s moving towards you before you can see him. It’s like your body is aware of his presence madly fast.

His eyes seem darker under the hazy light.

He grabs your hand.

You almost heave.

“Let’s get out of here.” He breaths.

You walk for some time. It’s late and Athens is quiet around that time. There is only a soft broken sound of cars and you think about that time you saw a car crash happen in front of your eyes.

You sit close in an old dirty staircase in a forgotten back alley. The city has a lot of those, but people don’t notice. They just walk past them, always in a hurry.

Sebastian sighs heavily. He looks at you in a way it makes you think he’s trying to memorize everything. The way midnight air caresses your body, the way red lighting falls in your hair from that street lamp. He looks at you for an indefinite and long period of time and it feels exquisite.

You place your fingers on his palm and the world flickers. He’s still wearing the rings they gave him for the movie and they feel cold against your skin.

“Do you ever miss Romania?”

The question startles him.

“Every day.”

You nod. Maybe he knows more about sorrow than you give him credit for.

“I remember the dog fence and our neighbors’ daughter and the orange sky through my window, minutes before sun set.”

Your hand locks around his and you stay silent for a while.

“This is the Lyra constellation.” His eyes light up as he looks up.

You remember reading about how much he’s into space. It’s intriguing.

“Where?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead he picks it up and guides it with his own. His body moves closer. There’s no cold in the air.

As your eyes search for the stars that your hands point at, he watches you and he’s certain that one day he’d love to lay on his back, with you on his side and show you all the little dead planets in the sky. Show you the secrets of the universe.

And he feels like this is the type of beauty that musicians try to write songs about.

“Ah!” Your grip becomes tighter and you smile. “I can see it!”

He laughs at your childish enthusiasm.

You laugh too.

And then you let your head fall on his shoulder, your hair touching his bare skin. You don’t blame them for making him wear sleeveless shirts for the film.

You can him feel shudder at your sudden motion, but then he exhales and his muscles relax.

He observes the features of your face from this angle. He almost traces them with his fingers.

“They’re probably going to kill me for stealing you away from the party.” You whisper.

“I think I was the one who grabbed your hand and left.” He laughs again and you can feel his chest pounding.

His phone buzzes. He doesn’t look at it. He closes his eyes.

“Δείξε μου όλα τα αστέρια. ”

He doesn’t understand a word but your voice sounds too close. You feel too close. And that’s almost tearing him apart.

“What does that mean?”

You turn to look at him. The neon sign on the old building behind him keeps trembling.

“It means, show me the stars.”

And he does. And he feels like he could burn alive.

And you will never tell him; but you still think of him when you catch a glimpse of burning stars.

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