#the conversation that final snippet is from does make me wanna put my head in my hands | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

captainsimagines · 4 years ago

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To Topple A Giant || Chapter Seven

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 7 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; strong language; canon-level violence (explosions); mentions of alcohol poisoning; mention of Infinity War/Endgame deaths; perceived domestic partner abuse (no such thing actually happens!); concussions and minor injuries; mentions of arranged marriages; mentions of drug smuggling and human smuggling; lying; ANGST!

Word Count: 14,100+

A/N: So close to the finish line...

Spain, 2024, 5:07 pm.

“Get the damn ice cream, Peter. I’m not holding you back.”

The kid sped down the sidewalk as fast as his feet would let him, skips in his steps and ignoring the chastising yells from Bucky.

“You’re letting him have sugar?” Bucky whines, sluggish in his own steps. The Spanish summer sun was blaring, burning your forehead and building the same cold craving in your throat. It was just the three of you, carefree but melting, happy but annoyed with the constant proximity of each other. The villa (if you could call it that, it was more of a cottage) was listed as having three rooms - not the two you were stuck with. Bucky was at the last inch of self-control, begging you to switch with him - if only for one night - because ‘the kid fuckin’ talks in his sleep, doll! One more night and I might smother him.’

It was Bucky’s idea to take a little vacation. A year after the blip and only a few months after Peter’s world was turned upside down, a vacation seemed like the best choice. Preferably somewhere that was quiet and somewhat rural - somewhere you guys won’t be easily recognized.

So the three of you packed and flew across the pond. In all honesty, you hadn’t even told the rest of the team where you were going besides Wanda. One day you were greeting them in the common room and preparing lunch, the other you were throwing your suitcase in one of the two vacant rooms in this little Spanish cottage. The three of you were truly off the map in terms of late notice.

“Let the kid live. He’s having a mid-life crisis at eighteen.”

“I’ve had more mid-life crisis’s than his age combined. He’s not special.” The pointed look on your face had Bucky sighing in small defeat. “Okay, okay.”

These past two weeks in shared solitude, even if this trip was supposed to be relaxing, was beginning to melt into a tiresome routine. Well, just nights. The days were mild at best. And to make matters worse, you and Bucky had been dodging the team’s calls, messages that you left for voicemail. Bucky had clicked ‘end call’ more times than he could count and his excuse was always, ‘ the kid doesn’t want to leave, doll.’ Even annoyed with Peter, Bucky wanted only the best.

It was only a matter of time until your phones were tracked and you were forced to come home. Everyone probably knew where you were anyway - you weren’t exactly hiding. But since you already got a good two weeks in, you figured they had taken some sympathy.

“Think we can get him to visit a museum today or something?”

Bucky shrugged, lining up at the coffee stand near the ice cream cart. “Saw him checking out banana bread recipes last night. Seems more like a baking day.”

You could go for some banana bread. Ordering two iced coffees and making more miscellaneous small talk while waiting for Peter to order, you studied the streets of Spain. The country had suffered greatly when, cruelly, more than half their population disappeared. Left in proper ruins, no one believed it would ever recover. But then there was an election, a change in the structural government, and it just… did. They rebuilt themselves better than any country had, in your opinion.

It was a rather calm day with minimal people out and about. It was exactly what you guys deserved after every mission - in your case, after a long month of PR recovery after that bar fight alongside Sam.

“You bake, Barnes?”

He smiled fully, “Any chance I get.”

“You guys want anything?” Peter yelled out, bouncing lightly on his heels as he waited. You waved him off. “You sure? It’s pretty cheap for summer prices!”

After rejecting Peter’s dozen ice cream questions and offers, the three of you decided the heat was a little too much to bear, even with sunscreen. Peter spoke most of the way. Something about that banana bread.

Bucky, being the baker, helped him choose the best recipe of the four Peter had bookmarked and soon the kitchen was only half dirty with eggs and mashed bananas.

“What do you mean a cup of baking soda, kid? Use your eyes,” Bucky yelled in second hand embarrassment. “I don’t think a cup of baking soda goes in anything.”

“Read right here, dude,” Peter poked at his tablet. “A cuuuu... okay. Okay, I see what I read wrong.”

“You two better be making me some good ass banana bread today. I don’t want to throw up!” You had opted to let the two men have their fun in the kitchen. You tried to bake, but you were more of a cook than anything else.

“You could be reading out the directions.”

“I could do a lot of things,” you respond with the emphasis on “could”.

The doorbell interrupted your no-so-real argument. Peter snickered, “You could get the door.”

With a displeased grunt and a straightened middle finger to the kid, you opened the door to find two people who were definitely not invited. Clint, with this magical and massive smile on his face and Steve, with his eyebrow cocked and arms crossed.

“Oh, would you look at that. Guests! Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Now, how and why?” Bucky groaned. But his actions contradict his words as he went to give Steve a hug, covered in flour and all.

“Hey, Clint,” you mumbled, purposely ignoring the super soldier side-eyeing you. “Care to tell us what you’re doing here?

Clint returned your warm smile, “See, Cap? They’re safe. Can we go now?”

Steve rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest in a rather demanding way. “We’re here to take them home, Clint.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Eh, you might be. But I’m here to soak up some of this Spanish sun.” A low grunt sounded in the back of Clint’s throat as he spoke. He was already making his way to pick at the mashed ingredients.

“You heard the man, pal,” Bucky slaps Steve’s shoulder, leaving him at the door as well. Awkwardly left alone, you blow a small raspberry and step aside to let Steve in. Bucky continues, “We’re here to soak up some sun. And I’m not done soakin’.”

With great protest, Steve maneuvers Bucky away from the kitchen and into the hallway beside the master bedroom. With both super soldiers out of the way, you finally go to help Peter with mixing. “Why did he come, really?”

Clint shrugs, arms deep inside your cabinets and collecting whatever desserts you had pre-packaged. “Honestly? I think he missed you guys.”

“All this drama because he misses Bucky? He could have just shown up declaring truce and had a nice little vacation,” you mumbled, glaring at Steve from behind.

“Think he felt like he needed an excuse to even show up. But they really are asking for you guys back home. Threatened to arrest your ass.”

“Lucky me.”

You could make out snippets of their tiny argument up ahead.

‘You could have called.’

‘You haven’t been answering the phone, Buck.’

‘I’ve been relaxing.’

A heavy sigh.

‘I just thought we told each other everything.’

‘Believe it or not, Steve… but I’ve got more friends now. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m not trying to ignore you, I - I just needed to help another friend out this time.’

Peter, with great care, washes his hands and makes sure there aren't any random mashes of banana on his clothing before he side-steps you and Clint to interrupt the very ‘private’ conversation between the super soldiers. “Hey, Mr. Steve- Cap, hey.”

Steve immediately lets his hard gaze falter. “Hey, kid. You doin’ good?”

Peter nods in response.

“He’s doing great! Much needed vacation that still isn’t over.”

“Buck.”

Inserting yourself may not have been the best option. “Give it up, Rogers. We’re on vacation. And until the kid says he’s ready to go home, we go home.”

Peter fumbles, “Oh, please don’t put me on the spot like that. I’m not good with confrontation.”

Bucky quickly answers before Steve can, “It’s not confrontation, Peter. We love being out here and if it’s helping your mental health, we’re not going to take that away from you.”

Steve blinks and his expression looks like one of hurt. “You think I wanna do that? The literal president has been asking for your location. You’re not allowed to leave the country.”

You shrug, “Well, no one told me that.”

“Buck, you were just granted immunity three months ago. And you go and drop off the face of the earth?”

“I’m literally in Spain.”

Steve blinks again. He really can’t believe he’s got to deal with two people with similar personalities. “Your point?”

“On Earth…?”

Clint decides to make his presence known. He has even inserted the poured batter into the glass tray for you guys. “Why don’t we just stay with ‘em, Cap? God knows you need a vacation, too.”

“We have two rooms. You’d be bunking on the floor,” you say, pointing to random areas on the floor.

Clint waves his hand in the air, “Not the worst place I’ve slept in.”

“I’m being hounded day and night to bring you three home.” Steve looks about ready to burst into tears of frustration.

“Turn off your phone?”

Steve whips his head and stomps to close the few feet of distance between the two of you. “You really think it’s that easy? You really think I wasn’t worried when my two best friends just disappeared one night and didn’t tell me?”

Two.

Best.

Friends.

Before you could even comment, Bucky puts on the dramatics. “We ran away together, Stevie. We meant to tell you.”

Steve takes a moment, just staring at the ceiling and piecing together his thoughts. “Joke all you want, Buck. I’m bringing you home.”

“Ste-”

“No!” He’s stomping back to the front door now. “I’ve had enough! I can’t stand not knowing where you guys are all day when bad things keep happening in this world. Just… just come home.”

All is quiet besides the quiet munching of Clint and his rogue cookie. Steve’s face did this thing when he was at war with himself, anxiety crawling up his arms or panic weighing his empty stomach down. His face drained color and that perfect renaissance oil lost its blush, blended paint that turned a murky gray. A masterpiece lost in storage.

“I can take the couch,” you whisper, arms erupting in goosebumps. “You guys can stay the night and we’ll go home tomorrow, okay? Or somewhere pre-approved, I guess.”

Bucky didn’t argue. Neither did Peter.

Steve's imaginary painter adds the softest pink back to Steve’s cheeks as you compile a mess of blankets and pillows for him.

Present Day, 2025, 7:15 am

There’s a warmth near you as you begin to lazily shuffle against the sheets, heavy on your chest but comfortable all in all.

There are no worries, no sudden bursts of Avenger business, no fights needing to be fought. Simply Steve warm against you with sunlight draping over his bare and freckled shoulders.

The serum enhanced for the sole purpose of strength and survival. And sure, it healed the body quicker than the average human body could naturally, but the one thing it couldn’t do was strip personality.

Steve had freckles splattered along his broad shoulders and down to in between his shoulder blades, light in color and all similar in size. Something a lot of people hated about themselves and tried to cover up while others tried to mimic. The serum was supposed to heal damaged skin, sunburnt areas, birthmarks, and even moles - at least, that’s what the official 1943 report had claimed.

But over the years, Steve had continued to age and grow into his new body. And while he couldn’t get dangerously sick anymore, anything unknown could still occur. No one had the same serum as Steve and last Tony had heard, Peggy had spilled the last remnants of Steve’s original DNA (blood they took before the procedure) in the Hudson. Bucky seemed to be experiencing the same natural changes as well.

It had been proven that neither Steve nor Bucky could carry or transmit diseases, experience abnormal cell production, nor could they develop a lifelong ailment without severe reason.

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Clint called one morning while deep in a routine mission (somewhere in Africa, you really don’t remember) to relay the news that, ‘you guys aren’t gonna fucking believe this - yeah Rogers, I’m telling them the hilarious news right now - Steve’s appendix just up and exploded last night - hey! He just stole - hold on. Give me back my hearing aid, you abelist fuck!’.

Steve had stretch marks on his back from the procedure, his elbow still hurt from time to time after he had snapped it a year ago, and the white scar above his right hip reminded him that even super soldiers are not exempt from the wonders of the appendix.

His breathing was slow and his eyelids flickered. Seemed he was enjoying his first deep sleep in a while. You craned your neck to try and read the cable box across the room, slightly making out a seven in the front before you gave up. You were due for your annual eye appointment, anyway.

Steve did have perfect eyesight though, so damn him.

You shrugged the sheets from your arms. He was on his stomach, cheek planted on your chest and right foot dangling off the side of the bed. His left arm was draped over your middle and his right was tucked inside a pillowcase. His hair draped over his forehead and some of it was still tucked behind his ears.

Careful to not wake him, you gently traced the ridge of his nose with your index finger, resting it on the tip that always turned bright pink regardless of mood. Once at the end, you went back up to trace it again.

“Beak,” you whispered more to yourself, and you bit your lip to suppress the overwhelming urge to giggle.

Steve was here, next to and near you, and he was so warm.

You could have stayed in bed for hours, sleeping and cuddling and fucking, and you would bet your left kidney that Steve wanted that too. It was impossible to question it, it had to be, because Steve was too genuine. You had met hundreds of men in your life: some the literal devil, some cowards, some reserved, and rarely, some genuine at heart. Steve fit some category that didn’t even exist.

You wanted to love him and hate him. You wanted to make love and fuck him. You wanted to kiss him and annoy him. He checked a box that didn’t exist but that you would just have to reserve for him. The annoying little shit who could lift Thor’s hammer.

The door almost ripped off its hinges by the brute force of someone’s leg. You didn’t even fully register being crushed by Steve until his elbow stabbed you right in the gut.

“Rogers!” you groaned in pain and half trying to reach for your pistol on the bedside table.

There was a collective gasp of surprise (and maybe terror) from the people that just broke down your door. After yesterday’s unplanned run-in with Ramirez, no doubt this was called-for.

“Oh, hell…” Sam grumbled, lowering his gun the second he realized two of his friends were sharing one bed. “Lemme guess, the other bed’s mattress was too firm but this one’s just right.”

Bucky stood behind him, a knowing smirk plastered on his smug face. He looked between you and Steve, ignoring the way Scott was practically pulling his shoulder down in pure fits of laughter. Didn’t take much for Scott to tip himself over and almost drag Bucky down with him.

“Couldn’t you knock?” Steve nearly yelled, body still trying to shield yours even though you were fully dressed. You were struggling to push him away in pure embarrassment, but he seemed intent with this form of protection.

“You weren’t answering your phone! We changed our check-in times to seven instead of eight, remember?”

Steve, ever the gentleman, brought the sheets up higher for you and finally lifted himself out of bed.

And Bucky, ever the gentleman who has been spending way too much time with Clint, nodded his head toward you. “You two fuck?”

Mouth dropping in humiliation, you pulled the sheets up over your head and screamed into the temporary cover. Steve sputtered over whatever explanation he was thinking of pulling out of his ass.

“You two fucked,” Bucky smugly confirmed.

Steve pulled on the nearest shirt and went to kick Scott, who was ‘criss-cross apple-sauced’ on the floor and laughing way too loudly. “Is it really any of your business?”

“Man, that’s an answer!” Sam was about to fall into the same fit as Scott.

Annoyed, and fueled by that annoyance, you ripped the sheets off and marched for the bathroom. “You really want to know, you nosy little fucks? We did fuck and he made me come three times. Ask him how, I’m sure he’ll teach you a thing or two, no matter how embarrassed he may seem right now.”

You left him alone. You literally just exposed him and you left him alone with the wolves.

All was quiet until Sam blew a small raspberry. “Three times?”

Bucky didn’t need to speak to show he was about to tease the hell out of you. He simply sipped his coffee until he emptied it, and then refilled it. You couldn’t even finish a single mug yet because you were waiting to break the tension.

Looking around the hotel bar because he still valued your privacy, Bucky made sure to keep his voice low. “Three times?”

Half wanting to slap the smirk off his face and the other half wanting to announce Steve’s naughty accomplishment, you settled for pouring more coffee into your mug.

“Don’t you dare hold what I said against me, I literally had just woken up.”

“Mm, yeah. I remember how you literally moaned Thor’s name when you were startled awake from a nap in the living room.”

“Bucky!” you yelled, turning your shoulders inwards when you received a few odd looks from other early risers. Well, some were early risers. The person closest to the door was an agent, as was the other eating breakfast at the bar. “You promised you would never mention that again!”

He shook his head with amusement, “I can’t believe you swore me to secrecy when Loki basically told everyone.”

“He-!” Choking on your own spit, you slid lower into your booth. “That mischievous, conniving, son of a bitch.”

“In all honesty, I think that was his way of flirting with you.”

“Telling everyone I had a wet dream about his brother?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first.”

You smirked, “Oh, trust me. I know.”

Bucky squinted, guilty in his spoken words. “All I’m saying is, it’s nice that you didn’t just write Steve off with us, as if nothing happened.”

It made your heart swell that even in a moment with you, Bucky would still always protect Steve.

“I would never. We actually talked last night and he really apologized.”

“Really?” His eyes were hopeful.

“He did. And as cliche as it sounds, one thing led to another.”

You realized your earlier words were contradictory when Bucky sighed sadly, “This better not have been a one time thing. I’ll strangle you both.”

You scoffed and finally took a piece of that blueberry muffin on your plate. “Screw you, Barnes. It’s Steve we’re talking about. I’d give him the world if I could.”

That made Bucky blush. “God, I’m stupidly happy for him. I always said he’d need to find a dame who had as big of a mouth as he does.”

Rolling your eyes, you offered him some of that muffin. He gladly broke off a piece. “Don’t go marrying us off just yet.”

“Doll, he almost imploded when we discovered you slept together. Teasing him about proposing might just kill him.”

You laughed at that. Although Steve had admitted he regretted the time you lost, there wasn’t any chance he would push you any further. He was probably comfortable with taking things slow, no matter the history. You had that in common.

“Seems we’re all just gonna have to make sure we don’t cause his demise.”

Smiling as he chewed, Bucky played with your feet under the table. Safe moments like these always occurred before a mission, no matter how simple or heavy they were. And like people love to say, you never fought with each other before. Just in case.

Going to bed angry was another thing entirely. That, the whole team was proficient in.

“You ready for tonight?”

Yesterday had definitely turned you against the very concept of family reunions, what with the small ache between your shoulders. You were angry with Seda, with Ernesto, disappointed with Ramirez, and neutral toward your sister.

God, your sister. This would be the first time since you left Mexico for school and SHIELD that you would be seeing her, as well as your other siblings. Jackeline was perhaps the only sibling you had some real memories with. Everyone else was already deep in the business or far away from the chaos. The team only knew of two other siblings who rsvp’d. The others: radio silence.

“Part of me just wants a normal family wedding. I’m kinda hoping we can just end it all tonight.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bucky chuckled, finishing off your muffin for you. “You’ll get some closure soon enough.”

There was no such thing as closure. Just less of a constant sting.

“Bucky,” you spoke seriously now. “My father made Steve sign something yesterday.”

“He told us at the debrief yesterday.”

“When did you have a debrief?”

Bucky scooted in his booth, quickly explaining. “Uh well, it wasn’t so much of a debrief as it was a simple overview. Just a heads up.”

You tilted your head, somewhat unconvinced. “Uh-huh… but we could void it, right? He had a fucking notary there and everything.”

“We can declare it void, yeah Y/N,” he grabbed your hand over the table. “He won’t get tangled in this.”

With a heavy sigh, you gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. “I’m really glad you guys are gonna help us.”

He returned your smile. “Anything for family.”

Family.

After all these years of self-hatred and despising your own blood, you blinded yourself of the simple truth that you already had a real family. Whether you were accepted after Sokovia, or after you helped Steve escape with Bucky, or after those long five years, you were accepted. And you accepted them right back.

The briefing goes as expected. Didn’t seem like anyone was going to live down the now obvious fact that you and Steve had slept together after years of unnoticed pining. You simply took the teasing in stride, better than Steve even, who stuffed his face full of chips in embarrassment.

The plan was simple but ever-evolving. The three of them will hang back: Bucky at the hotel, Scott and Sam at the nearby base with Torres. The base was fifteen minutes from the estate, hidden behind those same pine trees but the perfect cover - it was a nearby diner. Steve will still take the shield, FRIDAY was installed on your personal phones, and any weapons you attached to your person were specifically made to deter metal detectors. Once in, it was mingle, mingle, mingle.

There were going to be a thousand questions to answer: What in the world is Captain America doing here? Is he here to cause trouble? Are you two seriously dating? So, Captain America being one of us means holding Thor’s hammer was a myth, aye?

Then you would move on to the more important guests. Jackeline’s greeting would be more of a reunion. But flying under and over the radar had to walk the same line - you needed to mix in with the crowd and make sure they see you participating, but then escape for a little while to continue the mission.

Once in, the task was to electronically and physically retrieve everything Scott didn’t have time to yesterday, plus the new information Ernesto got for today and tomorrow. His latest emails, list of contacts, checks, birth certificates, video evidence.

“Do we all know our duties?”

You wanted to wrap up Steve’s commanding voice and keep it a special secret, a secret that was yours and the team’s to share.

“We got it, Cap. For the tenth time this week - you two okay?”

Sam was rewarded with a slanted smile. “Everytime you ask me that, I’ll lie.”

He nods, “At least you admit it. You’re not alone in this.”

“For years,” you continued, “It’s been that way. I guess I’m both ready for it to end and not. I want them behind bars. I don’t want the repercussions.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky agrees. “At least part of the fight will be over.”

Beside you, Steve clenches his jaw. “We’re always fighting.”

Bucky grins at him, “Yeah.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he leans forward to squeeze Steve’s thigh. “At least it’s not with each other anymore.”

They weren’t lying when they said vibranium was lightweight. Felt different from nano-tech and was an obvious change from your regular body suit. You felt protected and stylish. Good, because even though you weren’t obligated to impress those vultures, there were still a few cousins and extended family members you wanted compliments from. And?

The black turtleneck was warmer than you expected and didn’t strangle you. You were a bundle of velvet bliss right now. The cuffs were a golden brown, completely made from vibranium. Modeling in the mirror, you whispered a few ‘pew-pew’s as you blocked pretend bullets. C’mon, golden bracelets? You were basically Wonder Woman.

The tights were your own, thin and black and you could still see there were faint bruises on your knees from training. Once all that was situated, you pulled on the long skirt and tucked in the bottom of your shirt, glad the way the high-waisted design sucked everything in. The skirt was the same golden brown as the cuffs, shorter in the front and wavy as it draped down the back, barely reaching your ankles. You tied the skirt’s belt in a tight bow and pulled on the black boots Shuri had also sent you. The heel was thick and short, and the boot was pretty tight around the top of your ankle.

Time was ticking on that well-deserved goody basket you were meaning to send to the royal siblings.

Hoop earrings, three rings dressing your left hand, a simple golden necklace - now you need to do your hair and make-up.

Steve was just patiently waiting for his turn in the bathroom, bless his heart.

“Scott said the files are in his personal belongings. We suspect he’s planning to smuggle over fifty people tomorrow. Their records should be hidden away in those belongings, too.”

Sam always kept a leveled head in dire situations like these. He was rational and helpful, always waited until the job was done and everyone was safe before he had a drink or a cry. It was safest, perhaps the most fair thing the Avengers could do for the public after destroying half the cities they fought in. The media didn’t need to know about the late-night fights, alcohol poisoning, or frequent therapy sessions. Your coping methods were all different - Steve has no doubt Sam will immediately pack an overnight bag and Bucky to visit his sister and nephews once the wedding concluded.

Steve? Well, Steve was surprisingly calm, all things considered.

“You get any hits yet? Anything from Ramirez that could help us find those people sooner?”

Sam sighs sadly, shaking his head. “It’s looking like we’re heading into a full-on fight.”

That’s not what Steve wanted to hear. A ‘full-on’ fight almost always had accidents, misfires, innocent casualties, and a few cuts and scrapes to add to his own personal collection.

“Sam,” Steve puts down the files in his hand and shuts off his monitor to signal he’s done researching for the night. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“You know,” Sam smiles at him, “I’m gettin’ real tired hearin’ you say that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. Sam gently exhales - Steve can feel it.

“You two really are the same.” Sam points at Steve and to the bathroom door. “Always apologizing for shit you can’t control.”

Steve looks down to his feet, a blush in his pale cheeks. After failing to clip his cufflinks on his own, he holds his arms out to Sam who happily clips them for him.

“Is it real?”

Steve pauses. He doesn’t really need to think about it because he knows. He’s known for a while even if he was on autopilot. The pause only serves to help him catch his breath from the happy prickle that crawls up his spine. “As real as second chances go.”

Sam laughs and claps his shoulder, “I get it. We seem to get a hell of a lotta those.”

Now that the mission was truly kicking into gear, fucking full speed ahead, Steve had no other choice but to pull shreds of Captain America from that metaphorical attic of his. Took everything in him to revert back, never fully, and each time would be different from the last. Sometimes it was mentally draining being responsible for a whole team and creating the plans, other times he regretfully felt like a colonizer, an intruder who followed orders from the top and was forced to execute them. This time around, he was stepping into uncharted territory, but still familiar, and he had a million roles to mime.

“Steeeve.”

His smile was instant and he gravitated to your voice. “Hmm?”

“So, I have an idea for a hairstyle,” you reply, throwing open the bathroom door with a brush in one hand and the other holding the top layers of your hair up. “I got enough hair for it.”

“Tell me about it. It gets in the way of everything.”

“Haha.” You rolled your eyes, still trying to shovel more hair higher. “I curled it, so all I gotta do is tug this upper half up into a ponytail while the rest stays down. But can you help? My shoulders still hurt and I haven’t taken my advil yet.”

Steve shuffles back into the room to grab you two pills before he replaces his hands with yours. “So, just lift it up?”

You hum confirmation, watching Steve in the mirror as he pulled your thick curls higher, snapped the hair tie between his teeth, and tied it all. He pulled the strands outward so the high curls still fell around your face. The hairstyle would have been easier with extensions (for a much fuller look) but if you had to throw your body around these next two days, you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of having them pulled off.

“Thank you,” you blush. These moments were so intimate, so sweet, just you and Steve. “You need any help?”

Steve looks down at himself. He had already tied his own tie. He could style his own hair and comb his beard. “I think I’m good. Forgot to pack cologne, though.”

“I’ve got some perfume in my suitcase. There should be one in there that isn’t too flowery.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Not really a problem, doll.”

Pulling on his suit jacket and reaching for your suitcase to set it on the bed, he miscalculated the balance he was so obviously lacking. Instead of toppling head first himself, he fumbles your suitcase and spills its contents on your bed. He stills for a second, looking to the closed bathroom door to see if you popped your head through to ask what the hell that sound was. But it remained closed, and Steve silently groaned because of his clumsiness.

He tries his best to roll the clothing items back in, cursing whenever he would accidentally squeeze a perfume bottle you had hidden in there. He counted three. The one he picks smells like roses.

Amongst the ruins he finds your passport, multiple IDs, and two pairs of sunglasses. He chuckles to himself and thinks, we’ve been here for four days and she hasn’t worn these once.

A torn piece of paper stood out from the pile, folded neatly in its own envelope but still damaged.

CLINT

Curious, Steve opens the envelope, wholeheartedly expecting to find the written contents from the archer himself, but pauses when he reads the simple sentence, in your handwriting.

‘After careful deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I want you to have all my video games.’

If Steve didn’t know any better, and judging by the multiple other letters peeking through the torn tape from the corner of your suitcase, it sounded like a goodbye letter.

“What’s taking so long?”

Startled, Steve shoves the letter under the pile of clothes. “Uh, my clumsy ass spilled your clothes everywhere so I’m being good and fixing everything.”

“...annoying.”

Still, you stayed inside the bathroom.

He glanced back just to make sure. And he knew he shouldn’t be snooping, the guilt was already eating away at him, but he now noticed the lump under the torn tape and another envelope poking through.

They were all signed for different people. Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Rhodey -

The devil on his shoulder drowned the cries of the angel.

Opening his, he prays for his quick reading skills to aid him before you realized what he was doing.

Steve,

Believe when I say that I thought I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…

I don’t really know why I’m writing these letters besides the thrill of morbidity for my untimely death or because I’m an amateur writer on the side. I never know what to say to you, anyway. Whether it’s in person or on paper. I’ve got a hundred drawn-up speeches in my head I almost say to you. But they don’t come out when I want them to and it seems a bit much to write out the words to several imaginary crumpled pieces of paper.

This will have to do.

Steve, I know for a fact, deep in whatever soul I have left, that you are a good man.

When the world fell apart, I held on to you. I don’t know why. Natasha bugged me about it, sent me those signature smirks of hers whenever we did anything remotely weird. She believed something was going on between us and I would get so angry with her because it was like she saw something I couldn’t. And I wanted to see it. Wrap it up for myself and live in the softness.

You slept by my side when I would ask, you let me look through your private sketchbook to help ease my mind, and you would jump at every chance to shield me from danger. Even when you know I can take care of myself. I don't know how many times I have to remind you.

I don’t understand why you shut me out after we brought our friends back. And at the time, it hurt like hell. I literally wanted to kill you and then myself. It made no sense, it still doesn’t. I won’t lie and say it still surprises me or that it no longer hurts. ‘Cause I’m numb to it now and the pain is more of a dull ache.

But I guess you had your reasons, no matter how hurtful, how ridiculous, no matter how stupid.

Fuck, why didn’t you get some of that life Tony had always wanted for you? The question eats me alive. Maybe you did move on, maybe you would miss us too much, I truly don’t know. When you confessed to wanting some form of that life when we rescued Wanda, it just confused me more.

Then my father basically declared war and you cut me out. I can’t help but think you stayed behind to help me finish this, what with that righteous streak of yours, but if it is the case, then I am so sorry.

You deserve to live, Steve.

Guess what I really want to close with is this: find that life you always wanted. Buy a boat, or a cabin in the secluded woods and become a lumberjack, travel, open your own art museum - hell, erase all traces of your identity and sell painted landscapes for a living.

In any form you find it, just try. You know I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.

There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.

With as much love in me,

The swirl of your name leaves him disoriented, and slightly paralyzed. Steve licks the envelope closed.

Steve puts the very existence and contents of your letter to the back of his mind for the time being. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, no time to dissect it word for word. He’ll focus on it later. He still doesn’t know what reaction he should be experiencing. The letter was unexpected, yes, but it’s the matter of you writing a goodbye letter - as if you weren’t going to make it out of here alive. And that about saws Steve in two.

Steve thinks the elevator comes too fast and wonders what he could do to stop time. The mics on your neck generate enough noise for you to hear the static on the other end. No one is currently online, and Steve cherishes the little moments he’s getting before having to transition into ‘Captain America’ mode.

There wasn’t much time today to truly bask in the afterglow. The moment the elevator opens Steve literally drags you inside and captures your lips in a rather chaste kiss. It surprises you momentarily but you’re responding, and it’s fluid and familiar. The kiss is brief, but it feels as if your years mold into this single act, and Steve’s smiling wider than he has today when the first thing you say as you part is that maybe you chose the wrong shade of lipstick because it looks too damn dark on his lips.

The elevator reaches the ground floor and he looks over at you one last time in the privacy you’re afforded. He’s got that good ache in his chest again and it’s both calming and a little bittersweet, because staring at you is like staring at the sun - it hurts to look at for a long time but oh, so tempting.

The lawn was separated into two halves with only one fully decorated and the other still under a tarp, hidden because it was mid-construction and to not spoil the surprise. Over to the side, just left of the large lake, there was an extra tarp the workers were manning in case the clouds in the sky decided to cry.

Jackeline had chosen violet as her main color scheme, with golden hues stitched alongside. The flowers, soft lights, marble floor, and desserts were all violet; the curtains and tarps, plates and glasses, flowers on the wall, and Jackeline’s rehearsal dress were all gold. Ernesto must have spent over a million dollars in the decorations alone.

Everyone donned their best designers and since only family was in attendance today, the little amount of people were easily outdone one right after the other. In total, there were fifteen guests, and that included you and Steve: Ernesto, Seda, the groom’s father, Jackeline’s mother, two of your half-brothers, three aunts (sister’s of Ernesto), two cousins, the maid of honor, and Marcus White.

They have already fawned over Steve, some with a major guard up as expected, but as Ernesto explains the specifics, everyone becomes more pleased than weary. ‘It was just too good to be true that the Avengers were all good’, someone announces. Steve grips your hand just a little tighter.

The mere absence of Ramirez was enough of an answer: he really was going to be eliminated.

Across from your private corner, cheers and claps sound as the happy couple finally emerges. Even your father leaves mid-conversation to go greet her.

She’s a fifties masterpiece. Her dark hair cascades in uneven but gentle layers, framing her face and she’s both glossy and matte. Her skin is darker and her eyebrows are fuller, widow’ peak and strong jaw, thin neck and perfectly rounded shoulders. She has a painted blush on her high cheekbones, dark eyeshadow and a faint cat eye, and the reddest, fullest lips that are already spitting wit as she greets her more serious guests. Her voice is high but steady and she’s so obviously the center of attention, she’s the literal bride, but you bet she could take over the room even if she wasn’t. Her fiancé, surprisingly enough, trails behind her as if he too is in a trance, greeting the same guests and attempting to match her enthusiasm. She’s making herself known, and she’s succeeding.

It isn’t until she locks her sight on you that Steve finally mumbles a quiet ‘woah’ underneath a shaky breath and you can’t blame him, dear god you can’t, because seeing her for the first time in six years is eating away at you. She’s nineteen, young and sweet, and still trapped in the world you were planning to destroy.

Her first reaction is to run into your arms and hold you tightly, the force swinging you from side to side. Her giggles are contagious and you find yourself reacting similarly, grip tightening as she begins to ramble about how much she missed you and how proud she is that you have saved the world ten times over. The statement is overwhelming, but you find yourself nodding along in place of anything verbal.

Steve is patient as he witnesses this family reunion, standing at your side with respect and a tint of scarlet staining his cheeks. Finally, Jackeline turns to greet him and for a scary second, Steve sees Peggy.

“No way!” She keeps her voice low. “I could have sworn my bit-... uh, my bunch of tias were lying about you really being here.”

Steve shakes the fifties image from his head. The resemblance, even if Jackeline has more slanted eyes and a larger forehead, is uncanny. “Thank you so much for inviting us. The ride up was a bitch but we made the most of it.”

Jackeline stutters over her own laugh. “Oh.” She looks to you with a wide grin. “Oh, he’s a keeper.”

“Thought so myself,” you grin back. “You should hear him swear during a football game.”

“All men turn into animals when their teams don’t live up to expectations.”

Her accent is thicker than yours. Living in New York for over 10 years definitely helped smooth over some dialect and create your own voice. But Jackeline’s, considering she had never lived outside of Mexico, was thick and silky and resembled a place you no longer called home.

She pulls the man behind her forward, effectively interrupting and ending the conversation he was having with one of your cousins. “This is Julian. Julian, this is my one and only sister and her boyfriend!”

Julian, bless his heart, holds out a slightly shaking hand for you to shake. You do so, and try to convey calmness through it. When you watch his glance fall to Steve and feel his hand start to shake yours more rapidly, you can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“It’s an honor!” Julian finally says, voice deep and wracked with some nerves. He shakes Steve’s hand when he gets the chance. “Captain.”

“Please,” Jackeline rolls her eyes. “He’s just like us! You should be swooning over my sister, who is probably going to be the one to kill you if you ever hurt me.”

Julian blinks. His eyes go from Steve to you, contemplating his next move without wanting to seem rude. He nods in your direction. “I don’t doubt you would. Excuse me if I came off as rude. I’m just starstruck by this one here, is all.”

His accent matches Jackeline’s.

Steve waves his hand through the air. “You are not the first tonight, son.”

Sometimes you forget that Steve is an old man. Biologically, he’s in his mid-thirties. Ever changing and growing old as normal, but his soul is old. From a different time and out of it. The mere nickname he just gave Julian, no doubt because of his young age, leaves you averting your eyes and turning away to smile up at one of the many golden chandeliers.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight. The party may seem small right now, but trust me, half of Mexico will be dancing with us tomorrow night.” Jackeline bounces in place, hand intertwining with Julian’s, and she leans in to speak more clearly with you. “Meet me later? We have so much to catch up on.”

Agreeing, you watch the happy couple leave to converse with the few other guests.

Steve turns toward you, eyes squinted in amusement. “Is she really cheating on him with a man of the cloth?”

You can’t help the involuntary snort that leaves your nose. “The photos were watermarked, right? Time stamped? Maybe they’re old.”

Steve huffs a laugh and grabs two champagne glasses as the tray flies by him. “She’s got a way about her. Reminds me of a dame from this book I read a while back.”

Sipping your drink, you ponder. “What book?”

“The one where the dude gets shot at the end.”

“Oh, you mean every book from the 20th century?”

Steve laughs, “That twenties one!”

Mouth dropping, you push at his chest and turn to walk away. “You did not just compare her to Daisy from The Great Gatsby!”

Steve follows. “That’s the one! Honest! She has this way about her!”

It’s not long after a few dances and photographs that you’re all seated for the actual dinner. There are three long tables, two parallel to each other and the main one perpendicular. You don’t know if it’s a power move or whatever, but your name cards are placed on one of the parallel tables. But it doesn’t bother you much since you have a front view of Seda and your father.

Dinner is a six-course meal. Not that you assumed any different - Ernesto really went all out for his youngest child (that you know of). Your mics are picking up conversations left and right so you’re actually able to enjoy the meal. Salad, soup, a weird looking appetizer that’s actually quite delicious, the main course of either chicken/fish/or steak, and two desserts. All throughout, Steve is actually having the time of his life being fed so well.

“Answer me this,” Steve leans in to whisper in your ear. “Are those hearts or paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling?”

You smiled against the ridge of your champagne glass, “You mean those clay flowers?”

“Is that what they are?” He pauses for a long second, squinting.

“Are your eyes going bad?”

“Eyes don’t go bad.”

Your mouth falls open. “Your eyes are going bad!”

“Again,” Steve holds up a finger. “My eyes are just fine, not bad.”

Something else to add to that list you had made in the morning.

“This is fucking fantastic.”

Steve, still trying to casually squint, huffs. “Annoying...”

You bump his shoulder and lean in to whisper quietly. “Turns you on.”

Steve just blushes.

It’s like he forgets where he is for a second, what with the great food and surprisingly good conversation with one of your brothers beside him. Steve’s already built a much stronger rapport with the thirty-something year old man than you have. There’s a stab of guilt for a second, a need to duck and drown in shame, when you realize you can’t even remember his name.

Ernesto stands to announce toasts. His is brief and not all that fatherly, but it’s the longest you’ve heard him string some nice words together. Seda follows, brief as well, and includes a childhood anecdote about her. Jackeline’s mother is a young woman, somewhere between forty and fifty, and her toast is only a sentence long - ‘Solo quiero que estas contenta, mi amor.’ For the first time tonight, Bucky voices his thoughts over the mic with a quiet and sad sounding hum.

Ernesto lifts himself from his chair, swatting away his men who go to help him. He has the microphone again and he’s walking toward you, face neutral. You know better than to refuse in front of this big of a crowd. Steve squeezes your hand before you stand and he remains beaming up at you from his seat.

You’ve seen it in the movies - raise the glass, say some words, end it nicely. It’s what you do. But it feels surreal, almost unnerving when you don’t recognize the faces looking back at you.

“Here’s to you,” you lift your champagne glass, looking around at the happy yet solemn faces at the small table.

“You deserve all the happiness available to you. You are so lucky to have each other,” you finish the toast and drink your whole glass. There is no applause, just sad smiles in response. You’re not asking for much, you never had.

Tony and Pepper share a quick kiss, thanking everyone around the table quickly as the two cakes are being cut. Their wedding was limited, with only a few people in attendance. Whoever was left. Tony’s cabin could obviously accommodate more people, but he had only requested the gathering of those he could stomach to see. But when that turned out to only be Pepper and Happy, he was forced to open the doors to more.

So, you accepted your chocolate cake from Rhodey as he handed it to you. Shared some quick chit-chat with Steve and Natasha; greeted Thor as he made his first appearance in a while, hair now longer and baggy clothes hanging from his body, a tortured smile on his aging face; and sat through Happy’s own speech, enjoying his refreshing and joyful attitude.

But now you stood in front of the kitchen sink, staring at the hidden picture frame behind the mugs - a reminder of what was really missing from this special day.

You studied Peter’s awkward smile and demeanor, his expression youthful and frozen in time. He became foggy, silver clouds blotting his cheeks and his hair went white, and soon the sink sounded with a tiny ‘clunk!’ as you wept silently.

You felt a hand slide into your own, squeezing with care and understanding. You looked up to see Steve, his eyes watching your face. He gave you one more gentle squeeze, the same tortured smile as Thor’s on his beautiful face, and walked to his room to retire for the night.

Glass raised in the air, you swallow in hopes of not choking over any word because of your nerves.

“Here’s to you,” you start, already deciding this was going to be like pulling a band-aid. “May this world treat you kind, and that you are kind to each other, and that it’s all that matters.”

Steve forgets to drink. He can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting to cry.

Everyone watches as Steve leads you onto the dance floor which is intimidating with its glittering violet light and marble that resembles polished glass. If these were the decorations for the rehearsal dinner, Steve can’t even begin to bet on how tomorrow’s going to look.

Steve holds you close, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other framing your spine. It’s like a tight hug. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

You step on his foot once again. “Shut up, Steve. Tell me your real thoughts.”

“Who, me?”

“Steve.”

“You suck at dancing.”

“There it is.”

It isn’t hard to sneak away once everyone piles onto the dance floor. Steve shares a few dances with your aunts before excusing himself to use the bathroom.

The mission itself goes rather smoothly. Infiltrating and collecting information was childsplay. Amateur. You’ve done it a thousand times and your father isn’t exactly a tech wizard. Neither is Seda.

You find the electronic bank records Scott couldn’t yesterday, as well as a detailed spreadsheet (more like a hitlist) dating ten years back. In the same file, this actually only slightly encrypted (slightly), are the names of high-level players involved. It’s color-coded, some names familiar because of their involvement with Hydra, and it’s only a matter of seconds before you notice that red means eliminated, black means still at large, and blue means ally.

There’s a lump in your throat as you scroll through and find Steve’s name, thankfully in blue. It’s expected, so you simply move on, until you find yours. And it’s in black.

It should terrify you, have you running for the hills and tucking your tail between your legs but you’re won’t because Steve’s name is blue.

That’s all that matters.

There’s still no concrete information about the shipment, nothing online or on a loose post-it note. It’s non-existent and that’s suspicious and you don’t know why you don’t voice that to Steve. He’s listening at the door and responding to Sam’s questions. You and Scott are the hackers of the group after all.

You scan through drawers and cabinets, snapping photos of things you can’t take just yet and filing the papers you can. Papers detailing contracts and miscellaneous connections: lawyers, doctors, politicians, police. Once that’s done, you shrink the evidence to the size of a fingernail with the help of Scott’s tech and hide it in your bra.

Surprisingly enough, the two of you are able to slip out of the office and the first couple living rooms undetected. Until Jackeline herself appears, pulling down her dress as she exits the bathroom. Steve, stunned by the presence of anyone, pulls you toward his chest with unfocused strength. You hiss loudly and naturally go to cup your injured elbow. It takes a moment for Steve to realize what he’s done and who he’s done it to.

Jackeline nearly stumbles over her heels out of pure clumsiness but her mouth parts as she notices you and the harsh sound you make. If she truly saw or heard anything, she’s keeping it to herself it seems.

“Ernesto wanted to see me before we called it a night,” Steve says, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He doesn’t outright say he’s sorry; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. So he braves a smile, sends you a look, and excuses himself.

No conversation ever comes naturally - or, rather they take at least minimal effort from either party. You say the first thing you can think of and that’s to congratulate her again.

Your rambling sort of sounds like the toast you gave earlier, but Jackeline either doesn’t want to embarrass you or simply doesn’t notice. She waits for the pause in your voice before she finally speaks.

“Before I start, don’t hate me for this.”

“That’s not a good way to start a sente-” Your face is smacked to the side absurdly hard and you can feel the sting at the base of your neck. You look back at your sister with wide eyes.

“You couldn’t leave the world dead? He was finally dead!”

Baffled, you rub at your sore cheek. “Why am I the one getting the most blame for that? I followed a fucking raccoon around and I didn’t even snap my fingers!”

“Sorry,” she blinks, eyebrows scrunching as she thinks of the next thing to say. “Sorry, I just… it was that easy to kill him and then he just… wasn’t.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you were also dead.”

“I was.”

“And we brought back trillions.”

“I know.”

Never once did you wonder what your siblings might have thought. More than half of them were separated from this life, while a few remained and conquered their allowed sectors. Ernesto had never discussed which of his children would take over his seat. But when he was dusted and Seda assumed power, it was clear not one sibling wanted anything to do with it. Or they were just too scared to outright disobey Seda and his tyranny.

Jackeline stands tall, shoulders straight and chin held high. She didn’t seem to worry about the repercussions of her actions - she knows who you are and what you are capable of. The smack seemed deliberate but restrained.

“So?” It’s the only word you can muster up.

“Please don’t judge me.” Her confidence falters and her eyebrows push down even further. “I know you know.”

“You gotta spell it out because I know a lot of things.”

Sighing deeply, she grabs the hand you’re using to rub at your cheek. She grips it tightly as she speaks. “I love him. But he’s impossible to love now and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, Jackeline…”

You could have contacted her. You were on social media - you could have followed her, maybe messaged her annually - hell, called her once in a while to simply check in. The ticket you got was always a temporary one: go to school and find a way to make the trade routes easier to travel. School finished, you found Fury, and you created an alternate identity and background plan to trick your family into doing just what they ordered. And during all that time, Jackeline was barely in her pre-teens, probably scared and alone and missing her only sister. This was just you throwing that smack out of proportion but there was truth in it all. Wasn’t there?

“Julian’s okay. I agreed to this arranged marriage. I’m sure I can grow to love him,” she shrugs, biting her lip as it begins to quiver.

Her eyes are no longer happy - perhaps that was the wrong word to use after she had just confided in you about the reality of her upcoming union. But they definitely seem more dull in comparison to the joyfulness she presented earlier tonight.

“Jackeline, you don’t have to-”

“No, I was gone those five years. He had to move on.” You drop your shoulders and lean forward to give her a hug. No matter how badly you wanted to wrap your hands around Ernesto’s neck, they had more use tenderly wrapped around your sister.

Relishing the feeling for only a moment longer, Jackeline is ignited once again. “Besides, I should be telling you that! I saw the way that… that fascist pulled you. If he’s hurting you, I’ll kill him.”

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head. “Oh.”

She looks at you as if you’re going to admit abuse and confide in her like she did you. “No, it’s okay. Steve’s perfect, he’s… wonderful.”

Jackeline shakes her head rapidly, “Don’t you lie to me. I know what I saw.”

“I’m not lying. But you gotta trust me. I’ll explain later-”

“Explain what?”

Seda breaks the conversation and you forget to curse inwardly. Instead, a mumbled ‘fuck’ is heard. It only serves to fuel the flame. Jackeline flashes a rehearsed smile, and she truly is your sister because for a sad moment she looks exactly like you.

“Explain why she never returned my calls to be my maid of honor! I swear, this one is always so busy she forgets I exist!”

“She is,” Seda agrees, grinning like he already knows what the original conversation was about. “Always busy.”

Jackeline keeps the same smile and is about to continue fanning the flames when Seda interrupts again. “Jackie, your father wanted me to speak with your sister alone for a moment. It has to do with tomorrow’s shipment.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t keep her for too long, okay? Tomorrow’s a late start but we all need our beauty sleep.” Jackeline leaves and fails to look over her shoulder to double check on you.

Seda steps closer, arms swinging casually like he’s pondering the possibilities of what he could do without Steve present. But instead of focusing solely on him, you listen to the soft sound of Bucky’s voice through the mic as he tells you that he’s listening in and he’s here.

“What did she say to you?”

“Is it really any of your business?”

He snaps immediately, gripping your cheeks in one hand so you can’t move your head. “When will you learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut around me?”

“You asked.” Smacking his hand away would have been frowned upon before, but not anymore. Free reign if need be. “Besides, when will you learn that that will never happen?”

“You can’t believe anything she tells you. Ernesto’s only two daughters are mistakes, both threats to his reign. Never submissive, always asking questions-”

You grunt almost comically, “Men and their irrational fears of women… What did I ever do to you?”

He pauses and you notice how his angry eyes always seem to water from his frustration. “You brought him back.”

“I also brought back trillions.”

“You know,” his face does something unpleasant. “Before Jackeline was dusted, she had been seeing that priest.”

“How could you possibly know-”

“He was so devastated by her loss. Found God, became a changed man.”

“Seda, what are you playing at?”

“She came back.” He lifts one finger. “He couldn’t resist.” He raises another. “Didn’t take long for Ernesto to find out.” The third one is the last, and he mimics a small explosion as he concludes. “But don’t worry, we took care of him.”

You never once believed the Devil was this angry, red demon with horns atop his head and a sharp tail, voice booming as he ruled the underworld with the weapons of pain and suffering. He didn’t possess or haunt random places. If anything, the Devil himself was simply a metaphor, a representation of the evil in a living world. It only made people comfortable to create an image, no matter how ridiculous.

Once you even thought the Devil was Hades, and he wasn’t all that bad when it truly came down to the root of all problems. He oversaw the underworld but he didn’t take life, he didn’t cause the pain, he simply watched and ruled. That maybe Hades was real considering Thor was, and he was just chilling in the underworld bored out of his mind.

But the evil the Devil represented was a constant in this world already, in your life from start to finish, and Seda’s eyes held something unspeakable. Dark brown eyes almost black, left cheek twitching with the urge to smile grotesquely, the tense nature of his broad shoulders. He was no massive man, a few inches taller than you, but he was a giant in a world in which Hades lacked and the Devil persisted.

“But Julian-”

Seda scoffs, “Julian was her rebound. Got mixed up in the business, with Ernesto - but I don’t doubt he loves Jackeline.”

You’re this close to breaking the man’s fingers. He doesn’t stop counting his supposed triumphs. “When were the pictures taken?”

“Don’t do that,” he laughs as he finally steps away from you. “Ask your real question.”

Your smile was involuntary. So was Seda’s. It was the one thing you had in common: smiling at things that weren’t funny. “Did you threaten him? Torture him? Kill him yet?”

“... Jackeline will never know.”

Your mouth parts slowly like you’re still digesting his words. “You unimaginable bastard.”

If you had to bet, you would have placed all your money on Ernesto being the giant to fear. He had hurt you in countless ways, used you and discarded what he didn’t like, put you in the line of fire for his own gain. He had taken pleasure in knowing you hurt, in knowing what you had lost and suffered. He mocked your sacrifice time and time again. And there was a sentence you had never uttered out loud for fear of what you might do, or what anyone hearing you might do, that Ernesto had said one chilly November night only a year after the world returned. It was a thought so suppressed you almost always forgot it had been real. ‘A shame the Widow did what she did - what an unbelievable asset wasted over something pointless.’

No one outside your circle could possibly understand. They didn’t have to - but to dismiss the main reason he was retaking his tainted throne... insanity.

But something in Seda’s voice moved even the most dormant areas in your soul. The giant was a man with nothing and everything to lose but with the power to choose which. Staring at him for too long prompted an uncomfortable sting across your waterline like his glare burned. Such a normal looking man with short dark hair and an aging face. He stared at you with a set look, one that told you he knew something you didn’t. Like he controlled giants even bigger than him. He wasn’t Hades, who restrained himself and hid in the shadows of a world he was forced to rule - he was the Devil’s metaphor, with red strains licking his tan skin and eyes sharp enough to puncture.

With a small tilt of his head and a strangled grin, he finally turns to leave. “Have a safe drive home.”

After saying a quick goodbye to Jackeline and securing the estate, you hurried to get to your car and leave. Ernesto had just sent you a quick nod of the head and reminded Steve he needed to see him again before the wedding started. All your leftover energy literally went into pulling open the passenger door.

Out of instinct now, you wait until the car is past the gates and a good mile from the hidden entrance before speaking freely.

“We get everything?”

The night is dark and you can barely see the outline of the trees. The sky is covered with gray clouds and there are no lampposts to provide light. It’s really just your headlights. “I think so. I think.”

Steve can sense the hesitancy in your answer. “What’s wrong?”

You shake with an exaggerated shiver, “Seda was being creepy… just more than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Steve was probably communicating and online with Sam during his conversation with Ernesto and completely missed the one you had with Seda.

“Fuckin’ didn’t think it could get weirder, but Jackeline mentioned how this was basically an arranged marriage and then Seda,” you stop suddenly. The uneasiness was creeping back.

“An arranged marriage? Fuck, what else is this mission going to throw at us?”

‘Captain?’

Steve’s hands accidentally swerve the steering wheel as response to the small fright. “... Was that your phone or mine?”

You fumbled through your mini purse for your phone. “Me. Hey? Friday?”

‘The one and only. I hope that didn’t frighten you because I really need your attention right about now.’

Steve chuckles, eyes straight ahead as he drives. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

‘My readings are picking up something strange. The vehicle, even if I’m not able to virtually connect, seems to be stalling.’ Torres did curse you two before you left for renting a car made before 2013.

“What do you mean? It’s working just fine.”

You set your phone down on the dash to start looking around the interior of the car.

‘The pedal, yes Captain. But I’m afraid my readings are focused on the brakes.’

You bite your tongue and scrunch up your nose. What else could possibly happen tonight? “That’s always fun to hear, great. Greaaaat.”

“Friday, what are you picking up?” Steve’s voice is more stern and even if he’s not doing it on purpose, he’s trying to ignore your coping mechanism of joking during dire situations.

‘It seems that when they took the vehicle for parking, they attached something to the brake lines. Sort of like a trigger sensor. Do not slow down.’

“We’re stuck? We can’t stop?”

‘Everytime the Captain de-accelerates, the sensor heats up. That’s what my readings are.’

“Fuck,” you unclipped your seatbelt and turned your body toward Steve. “Fuck!”

“Friday, what do we do?” The least Steve could do is be the level-headed one here.

‘Exactly what you’re thinking, Captain. The shield’s in the trunk.’

“We can’t exactly get to it!” You don’t mean to scream at Friday. You’re sure she’s used to adrenaline induced attacks guided toward her and never about her.

‘The burners were produced by Stark Industries for our very own spy unit. They are equipped with a taser, flashlight, and laser.’

Jumping so your feet were planted firmly on the passenger seat, you make sure everything is in place: the stolen files, your gun, your phone, and earpiece. “Keep your foot on that pedal, Rogers. I don’t feel like blowing up tonight.”

He releases a shaky breath, hands turning pale from the grip he has on the steering wheel. “You and me both.”

“Friday?” Your voice is only slightly timid, but you manage to move your body out from the front seats and to the back.

‘The laser, Agent Y/LN. Cut through the seats.’

Nodding along to her instructions, you search for the burner under your skirt and unstrap it from the holster. Pulling its ancient antenna outward, Friday verbally guides you through the very simple instruction. The laser blasts out unexpectedly at first making you squeal, which in turn causes Friday (a literal AI) to chuckle. You’re thankful the antenna was facing the back seats already.

“Doing good back there?”

You respond with a low grunt as you carefully carve out the largest rectangle you can create. “You better have shoved the thing close. Any stop signs up ahead?”

Steve’s getting worried now, but instead of putting you more on edge, he hides it pretty well. “Thank god this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even give his response acknowledgement as you finally pull the leather, metal, and weird cushion filling away and spot the shield. “I got it, got it, got it.”

‘My sensors suggest you’ll have a good five seconds to escape the vehicle once the Captain releases the pedal.’

You make sure your hair is in the tightest ponytail known to man and that your skirt is bunched up in your free arm. You strap the shield onto the other. “Steve, you gonna be alright?”

His eyes are still focused on the road, but he braves a look in the mirror back at you. His voice is stern but not demanding. “I know you hate the damn shield but bend your legs, jump sideways, and tuck your head.”

“Yeah,” you nod along. Damn straight you’ll put your hate aside for one second if it’s here to save your life. “You better jump on time, you understand me?”

“Sam,” Steve keeps the speed steady and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding from the sound of you kicking open the back door. “Sam, Widow. Widow.”

Before you jump, the asphalt a never ending, rapid glare of absolute darkness, you leave your phone on the seat in case Steve still needs her. “Friday, send Sam and Torres our location. They’re the only ones who can fly in undetected. Tell them what you told us.”

‘Will do, Agent Y/LN.’

“Be careful.”

You smirk at him, “Don’t be a hero and crash this one into the ice, yeah?”

You don’t wait for his reaction and instead take the plunge. The shield makes a hard impact with the asphalt down below, screeching for what seems like an eternity before slowing down. You did as instructed: knees tucked into your chest as far as you were able, head doing the same. By the time the ride finally ends and you’ve gone partially deaf, you can make out the sound of a loud explosion a close distance away. The heat from the sudden burst of wind nips at your face. You’ve also gone partially blind.

Your poor boots are definitely ruined and there’s a faint tell of a bruised ankle in the works. The arm attached to the shield will also need to be popped back into place - it shouldn’t feel this loose. Luckily, your head and torso were completely unscathed.

Lifting yourself up the best you could without straining anything too much, you noticed the car still in flames but driven off the road.

“He jumped, he jumped, he jumped,” you repeat, limping as quickly as you could, shield still attached to your arm. The closer you get the clearer everything becomes, regardless of the smoke. “Steve.”

You squint through the orange light and the dark of night. The fire wasn’t all that loud in its crackles and it doesn’t take you long to realize while tapping your ears that you lost your earpiece.

“Steve,” you try again, adrenaline still pumping but panic seeping in. As if on cue, you can make out his body laying far away from the car relatively unharmed. “Ah, shit.” You drop down on your knees and wince involuntarily. Slapping his cheeks doesn’t wake him up, neither does gently shaking him. You don’t want to do anything to hurt him more.

The sound of gravel popping kicks you back into spy mode. Hide. This was a hit, of course it was, and they were coming to see their job done.

“You so owe me,” you groan as you unstrap the shield to throw it into the woods, the faint tell of it hitting a tree enough to make you work faster. You hook your arms underneath Steve’s armpits and bend your knees, breathing in deeply and out a few times before pulling him with all your strength. There’s pain shooting up your arm but you try to ignore it. Small whimpers escape you as you pull harder and finally make it a good distance from the wreckage. You sit Steve, still unconscious, behind one of those massive pine trees and sit next to him after retrieving the shield.

It’s only two black SUV’s that come to check their hard work. They’re bending down and using their own fire extinguishers, snapping their own photos, the works. It isn’t until Seda walks over to admire the wreckage that you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming.

You’re seated in front of Steve now with the shield in front of you when a sudden movement to your left startles you. Before you scream, however, a hand covers your mouth.

“Shh, shh.” Sam. Your eyes fill with tears.

“I’ve got him. Torres is coming for you, alright? I’m the only one who can carry him out.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you. You’re silently helping Sam strap Steve against his chest as Seda and his men are now investigating the woods. You can hear them close, cursing and yelling about finding you.

“Go a little further. Down there,” Sam points in front of you. “Torres is parked and waiting. Go.”

“Don’t drop him.” Sam stifles his laugh.

You follow his directions, limping as quickly as you can, and finally find Torres, your second knight in shining armor of the night.

After an all clear from the medical team, Steve is left alone in your hotel room to rest. He still hasn’t woken up but Helen isn’t worried since his scans show no major damage. Small talk with the rest of the team fills in the time but it’s like you’re not really there, merely a participant on a loop. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you’re covered in scratches and smoky ash and you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to kill something.

Your father wanted you dead. And showing up to the wedding was just going to anger him more but it had to be done. But you were tired, so fucking tired, tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep or rest.

You let your hair down but stay in your tattered clothing, making yourself useful as best you can. You answer questions, you review footage, you draft up some reports. Bucky tries to sit you down at one point, but he backs off when you simply shake your head and give him that famous broken smile.

You’re sitting at your desk trying to save some of your phone’s cloud through the connected email. Sam has already ordered you a new phone. On the computer to your left, you’re scanning and uploading the files you stole tonight. On the right, your little butterfly is transcribing conversations from yesterday.

The transcription is finished before the uploads. It prints.

SEDA: ‘Ernesto needs to know how many more women we can get from Jonathon. I thought you said your Italian contact was up to date?’

UNKNOWN: ‘He is. But the women are coming from here instead. Got a load of ten just now.’

SEDA: ‘The shipment goes out during the wedding. Not before, not after. We can’t fuck this up for Ernesto and we cannot have the stars and stripes finding out.’

UNKNOWN: ‘Ernesto plans to mention it to him tomorrow.’

SEDA: ‘Then make sure he keeps quiet about it.’

The bitter taste in your mouth returns and you have to run to the nearest bathroom.

Steve wakes just an hour after, disoriented but able to discern who he is. “What happened?”

You’re standing at the foot of his bed, having just got there a few minutes before, practically on the verge of tears. “... Did you know?”

There it was. Any hope of truly coming to terms with this new world order or his role in it, any hope of feeling like he did before he succumbed to the American war propaganda and became a science experiment, crumbling before him. The heavy weight that were your shoulders, crumbling like shaky mountains. His own, tense and straining and urging him to get out of bed.

He’s been in the trenches when the smell of gas and blood clogged his nostrils and made him dizzy. He’s experienced loss a thousand times over, just heinous instances of despair where he swore he was torn in two. He’s lost on his own accord and pretended like the world was still on its axis.

And he knew his time was up. He just thought he’d have more than a day to enjoy it. “I was going to tell you.”

It’s like the air is punched out of you. “You knew?”

“Please, listen, please,” he scrambles out of bed.

“What the fuck, Rogers?”

“Ramirez told us yesterday. I swear I only found out yesterday. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You’re stepping away from him. He’s almost on his hands and knees and you’re stepping away from him. “Before?”

Steve makes a pained noise. “Yes, but please-”

“No! You kept this to yourself and you had the fucking audacity to share the same bed as me?”

“Please, let me explain-” He tries to reach out but you side-step him. He reacts like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t touch me, Steve!”

“Please, just let me explain. We all know - Bucky, Sam, Torres, we all know.”

Your face does something he’s never seen it do. “Fuck?”

He’s talking faster now, words just spilling on the floor and into the air and he doesn’t know what else to do. “We’re tracking it. We have a plan set. We were supposed to tell you tomorrow before the wedding.” He stops to take in a breath. “I was going to tell you.”

“You went behind my back.”

“If I would have told you, you would have done something horrible tonight! We need your father alive to find those people!”

Eyes wide in shock and anguish, you step further away from him. Each step was the equivalent of a dagger plunging deep into Steve’s heart, twisting and burning its way to the depths of his vulnerability. He wanted to succumb to the pain - after all, he deserved it.

“That would have been my choice to make!”

Now he pushed forward, shoulders hunched and palms turned upward as if he was pleading for a crumb of understanding. “I was gonna kill him.”

He drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist. You remained perfectly still, a tree stump with no cover. “I was gonna shoot him between the eyes when I first found out. But if I had done that, then we would never know the location of those people.”

His weight was pulling you down and you felt his wet cheek against your stomach. “I deserved to know.”

His grip tightened, “You did. But if you would have known-”

“I would have known. Period.”

He had to know how much he weighed. But Steve leaned his body onto yours harder, afraid you would vanish and god forbid turn to dust. It didn’t really register in his mind that, even though he was holding you in place, you weren’t exactly trying to escape his hold either.

He had let you go once and he’ll be goddamned if he let you go again.

“It ate me alive. I hated doing this-”

You pushed against his shoulders and sensed his reluctance to let go. Instead, you look down at him and tense your jaw. “Steve, you don’t hate me, do you?”

His face dropped and his grip loosened. You should just slap him across the face, Steve thinks, because how in the world were you thinking that at this moment? Never did he think you would find a way to twist this - to somehow blame yourself for his mistake. Took a long time to see it, but you were just as righteous as he was. It would get you both killed someday.

“Why do you think that? What in the world would make you think that after all this time? After everything?”

He lets you push him away so he could stand but he makes sure to keep his hands on you. A tangible promise that you are real.

“You agreed to help me catch a drug lord. You didn’t sign up for this extra mess.”

“We may not always know what we’re up against,” Steve began, sniffing and wiping at his wet face. God, he felt like such a mess. “But I could never fucking hate you. Don’t even think that.”

“You sure?” your voice cracks, hands slightly shaking from the need to touch him too. “Captain America didn’t sign up for this.”

He shakes his head almost violently, “No, no. Don’t go there. I am not him, I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“Steve-”

“No! I’ve hated the title for a while now. I’m done. I’ve hated my reflection for years and years.” The tiny whine in the middle of your throat gurgled and your hands moved instantly to cup his cheeks. “I represent no one but myself. I’m tired of others thinking I’m the same man from ten years ago, or the same man from the forties, or the same man from last week just because they’re enamored by that star on my chest.”

He tilts his head to lean into your touch, “I am helping you because it’s the honorable thing to do. I signed up for this work, I intend to finish it. Not Captain America, but me - Steve, me.”

“You’re still making me feel like it’s something you have to do.”

“I admit that I was never overly fond of the idea of being wrapped up in this,” Steve admits, hands now cupping yours over his cheeks. “But toppling this empire will keep you safe.”

As heartwarming as that sounded, you broke the fantasy. “The minute we take the giants out, they’ll elect someone new.”

“But we take the giants out. The giants that hurt you.”

He’s right, like always.

“Steve,” you say quietly, bringing his face closer to kiss away his tears. You’re struggling to keep the tippy-toes and your ankle is screaming for a break, but you persist. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“No more secrets.”

“None, I swear, I promise.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you make sure his eyes are locked on yours before you speak. “I’m not walking away this time. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Steve’s mouth releases a big burst of air like he was holding it in, and he wraps you in a hug that promises the same.

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

A/N: Wooooo that took forever lol xxMoni

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Hurricane - c. 07 - Rafe Cameron

Summary: Good times don’t last forever.

A/N: I finished the re-write and now I’m almost done this fic! I’m so excited!!

Holiday in the Sun Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“You look ridiculous,” Rafe piped up, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the hall mirror as you moved around in the bathroom. You’d run the shower long enough that the bathroom had let out a wave of steam when you finally opened the door, allowing the cool air of the hotel room to dry you so that you could put a face mask on. You were shimmery and purple but you’d looked more ridiculous before.

“It’s a face mask,” you replied, “you have two sisters, you’ve never seen anyone in a face mask before?” You asked, coming out of the bathroom, still holding your towel around you. The pajamas you’d picked out were sitting at the foot of the bed Rafe was lounging on.

He was on his phone though he looked up when you came in. Before you even realized it he’d held his phone up, snapping a picture of you.

“Rafe!” You clutched the edge of your towel as you reached out with your other hand and smacked his leg, “delete that!”

“I might make it my lockscreen, what do you think?” He teased, holding his phone out so you could see the picture he’d taken. You looked slightly stunned, caught off guard.

“No, delete that picture, forreal,” you stopped at the edge of the bed, knees hitting the duvet, “you play dirty, you know that.” You grabbed your shorts and top from the end of the bed and headed back into the bathroom to change.

“So should I make this my lockscreen or my homescreen?” Rafe called, getting up and following you to the bathroom. He walked in just in time to see you pull your top down and you glared at him though it was useless.

“Delete it.”

There were moments that felt semi-perfect, as close to a real, actual, relationship as you thought you could get. But they were barely fully fledged moments, just snippets of something that never got to last because just when you were letting yourself fall into this your brain reminded you that everything here was temporary. Rafe included.

“Hey, I don’t wanna be a killjoy here,” you said, sitting at the table on the balcony with Rafe, watching as he lit the blunt he’d brought with him. There’d been a whole tin of them but was down to one. You were watching the sun setting in the distance, thinking about the fact that your vacation was supposed to be ending in two days. “But what exactly happens at the end of this week?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, smoke tumbling out of his mouth as he exhaled the words.

Maybe you should’ve had this conversation sober but you couldn’t help yourself. The thought had been gnawing at since you left the house the night before and even longer, since he first flirted with you in the kitchen at midnight. Where was this headed? Rafe had never struck you as the type of guy who did long distance relationships, or any relationships for that matter. Wheezie had certainly nailed that when she was talking her brother down, trying to sway your interest away from him. Maybe you should’ve listened to her.

The last time you had seen Rafe was four years ago and you had disappeared out of each other’s lives almost completely after that vacation. But then he was just an unattainable crush you still stacked every potential date against a guy who had felt leagues out of your reach. How did you recover this time, after this vacation, if life went back to normal?

“I mean, you’ll go back home with your family...” you had heard what Ward said the night before but you couldn’t bring yourself to honestly believe that he would throw his son out completely. He wasn’t winning any awards for father of the year but could he really be so terrible?

“Doubtful.” Rafe replied, managing to blow a smoke ring but losing the second one when he smiled.

“What do you mean doubtful? You really think he’ll not let you come home?” You asked.

“Ward said if I fucked up again, I wasn’t coming home.” he replied, “that was the agreement for the trip.”

“Where are you supposed to go?” You asked, crossing your arms for a bit of warmth as the breeze picked up. There was a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach and maybe it was just you being paranoid but you were suddenly regretting the entire conversation. Maybe ignorant bliss would’ve been better.

“Dunno,” he shrugged, “here’s pretty nice.”

“You can’t stay here Rafe.”

“Why not?”

Suddenly that feeling you’d been having made perfect sense to you, “well, for one...you’re not footing the bill, I am.” You replied, “what are you supposed to do when I leave?”

“You know what, you’re right, you are being a killjoy.” He replied.

Blissful ignorance, you wished you could turn the clock all the way back to the beginning of the trip. “Is that all this is to you? Just some game? Someone to pay your way?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Rafe snapped, “I got kicked out cause of you-”

“No!” You got up from the table, heading back to the sliding doors, “you got kicked out because you insisted on going back there and picking a fucking fight with your dad when you knew he was already on edge!”

“Back to blaming me again, awesome.”

“I’m not blaming you...I just...” You sighed, “nevermind.”

The door slid closed behind you and you padded across the carpet floor to the bathroom, going inside and locking yourself in. The thought that Rafe was using you as a place to stay was something you didn’t want to consider but now that you’d said it out loud it was like it wouldn’t get out of your head.

You shut the lid of the toilet and sat down, pulling your phone out of your pocket and pulling up Sarah’s number, texting her to see how things were going at the house. You hadn’t reached out to your mom again and you weren’t sure how things would be when you got home again, if you would be able to move on from this and go back to normal. You were waiting for a text back from Sarah when a knock on the bathroom door made you look up. It was too late to turn on the shower or run the faucet and pretend you didn’t hear him but you weren’t going to open the door either.

“Can we talk?” Rafe asked through the door.

You stayed silent, staring at the tiles under your feet.

“Please?” He tried again, “look, I’m sorry I snapped at you-”

“This isn’t cause you snapped at me.” You called.

“Well, whatever, I’m sorry.”

You stood up, walking to the door and pulling it open, “I’m not mad at you. In two days I’m going home and what happens then? We just, leave all this here? Or what...your dad kicks you out so you come up to Connecticut and act like you’re there for me but the whole time I’m stuck wondering if you’re just there for the free room and board?”

“Look, I don’t know what’s gonna happen in two days-”

“But I need to know.” You stressed.

��Why?”

“Because I really like you and I don’t want this to mean more to me than it does to you.” You admitted. “I have school and responsibilities...I can’t just stay here cause I want to or “chill” cause it’s fun. I have to go home in two days, that’s happening. But I need to know what happens to us in two days when I leave.”

“I don’t...” Rafe trailed off, running a hand through his hair and pulling gently at the ends as he did. “I didn’t mean that I wanted you to front the bill for everything, I just meant that I wanted this to keep going...I don’t want you to go home in two days.”

“That’s kind of inevitable.”

“Why? I like this, exactly the way it is.” Rafe said.

“This isn’t real life.”

“I want it to be.”

“If it’s not...if this isn’t “forever” that’s okay.” You lied. If it he told you that life went back to the way it was, that your relationship with him would go back to the same as it was before vacation, non-existent, you weren’t sure how you would get through the next two days. But you didn’t think you could stand being here with him.

“I don’t know.” He repeated. He wanted to tell you that he knew exactly how he felt about you but he wasn’t sure. The entire vacation had turned into a whirlwind of emotions, none of which he expected, and he didn’t know what to feel about anything. Especially not this. He wanted to assure you that this was real and that his feelings were genuine and that he definitely hadn’t considered that if Ward didn’t let him come home he would need a place to stay but it had been at the front of his mind.

“Okay.” You nodded. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you pulled it out to see a text from Sarah.

“What is it?”

“Sarah wants to know if we wanna meet up with her and Topper tonight.” You replied.

“We don’t have to.” Rafe said, watching you as you looked up at him.

“Might be fun,” you admitted, almost eager for the distraction. “And, we have two days right, like you said.”

Confused feelings and alcohol had never been known to mix before and they definitely didn’t that night. You and Rafe needed to talk. To get to the bottom of your feelings about each other and honestly figure out if this relationship was something you wanted to pursue. But Sarah had invited the two of you to a club and you were quick to drown your rational thoughts in alcohol.

It took two songs, four rounds of shots and a few beers for you to lose your inhibitions. You were starting to feel better, or at least more distracted than you had been earlier, dancing with Sarah, when you jokingly twisted under her arm and spotted Rafe in one of the booths making out with some random girl. She was practically straddling him on the bench and even in the dim lighting you knew that it was him and you stopped dancing.

“What’s-” Sarah stopped when you did, blinking against the almost strobe lights as she tried to see what you were seeing, gaze landing on her brother.

“Alright, I got drinks.” Topper’s voice sounded far away, just like the music and Sarah...it all sounded like you were listening to it through a tunnel. Your vision blurred and you turned away from the scene, shoving against Topper accidentally and rushing out of the club that was part of the resort.

Topper set the drinks on an outlying table and waited for Sarah to give him any sort of direction. When she said nothing, just staring at her brother, he touched her arm, “Sarah?”

“He’s such a dick!” She snapped, glaring at him as if he was the one who had wronged you.

“I’ll take care of Rafe, just make sure she’s okay.” Topper said. The both of them were far more sober than you were and Topper was worried that you would have trouble getting back to your room safely without help.

taglist: @stevie-buck @vitaminekabc @mysterious-adventurer @vintageobx @starkeymemories @kookkyra @babygal-babygal @khiaraaa-in-spacee @fangirlvoice @tayyx @ilovejjmaybank @damonsalvawhore27 @princess-of-the-fandoms @illbesafeforyou @heavenlymama @vindictive-hearts @alexa-playafricabytoto @dontjinx-it @randomficsandshit @niamhobrien @strangerthanfanfiction713 @tovvaf @freckled-and-daydreaming @harleylynn @bibliophilewednesday @dpaccione @bolaurel @poguestyleskye @beautyandthebleh @under-a-canyon-moon

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echoghost1 · 4 years ago

Text

Recreational Botany

Word Count: 3384 For: @lexosaurus

Read on AO3 and I’m only posting a snippet here because formatting on this site is just too much right now.

Summary: It wasn't her fault. She was merely curious, had only wanted to help. She didn't mean for this to happen. She just hoped it would wear off soon.

Edit: I added the rest of the fic here! Edit: I added a summary too!

Sam had been interested in the occult and had a greenhouse. She was honestly surprised at herself for not looking into ghost plants sooner.

When they found out about Blood Blossoms, and was that the weirdest day of her life, she knew she had to know more. At first, it was just so they wouldn't be caught so unaware next time. She also needed to make sure that they really were extinct so Danny wouldn't get hurt like that again.

But then she wondered if there were other plants. Maybe there was something a little less painful, maybe even helpful.

Eventually, she found something that sounded promising. She ordered the seeds and made a space in the back of her greenhouse, as far from the entrance as she could get.

Several months, and many ghost fights later, the plant was finally ready. She trimmed a few of the small buds and placed them in a little brown bag for safekeeping.

Now she just had to figure out how to test it.

======================================================

The trio was hanging out in Sam's basement bored out of their minds because there hadn't been any ghost activity that day and they couldn't decide what to do instead.

"Man we really need to get another hobby if we're bored without ghosts," Danny said as he stared at the ceiling while he lounged on his favorite bean bag.

"Speak for yourself dude," Tucker teased, "I have plenty of hobbies."

Danny sat up and cocked a brow, "owning multiple outdated PDAs does not count as multiple hobbies."

Tucker gasped in faux shock, "Outdated? Moi? Why I never!"

"Speaking of hobbies," Sam segued before the boys could devolve into the pillow fight they were all ready to start. "I found a new plant recently and I guess since nothing else is going on we could try it out?" She suggested as she went to fetch the bag from its hiding place.

She was glad her parents hadn't noticed the false bottom in the drawer in the end table. She slipped her finger into the small notch and lifted it to reveal the spare first aid kit along with what she had come in there for.

"I was doing some research a while back and found this plant is supposed to work on ghosts," she started as she placed the little bag on the table.

Danny, who had been scooting his bean bag closer to the coffee table between them, stopped short.

“I only have a little bit here and if it bothers you we can stop right away,” she reassured.

“What’s it supposed to do?” Tucker asked and Danny nodded along, also curious.

“Well I’m not one hundred percent sure because I had to translate the book I was reading,” she started but was interrupted by Tucker, of course.

“That seems risky.”

“That’s why I only grabbed a little bit! Anyway,” she dumped the bag out onto the table, “I guess let’s just see if anything happens.”

Danny hesitantly reached out for the plant then quickly poked it as if it was a live wire. Which with his luck was probably something that could happen.

It didn’t start smoking or sparking so Danny picked up a piece to exam it closer, “Well it’s not hurting me so that’s a plus.”

“Is it doing anything at all?” Tucker asked suddenly skeptical that anything would happen.

Danny shrugged and sniffed the bit of plant between his fingers, “smells nice.”

“It’s not ‘I want to give up my free will’ nice, is it?”

Danny quickly looked up to Sam, “What? No! Why would you ask that?”

She shrugged, was it really out of the realm of possibilities?

“Maybe we should make a little ring of them and see if that does anything?” Tucker suggested.

No one could think of a reason not to so they gathered up the little bits of plant and maybe a ring that Danny could step into. She didn’t want to lose it in the carpet so they just made it on the table. Danny stepped into the ring.

And was still unaffected.

“Maybe this one is a bust after all.” Tucker shrugged.

Danny scooped up the plant buds back into the bag, “or maybe it needs to be the whole thing?” he countered to which Sam was grateful that he was on her side for this.

He rolled a single bud between his fingertips with a contemplative look on his face.

Before she could ask what he was thinking he popped it into his mouth and swallowed it whole.

“What are you doing?!” both Sam and Tucker asked with a healthy mix of shock and dismay.

“What?” he asked as if what he did wasn’t totally bizarre.

“What if that was poisonous?”

He hummed to himself, “I guess I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Then what were you thinking, man?”

“Were you even thinking?”

“I just wanted to know if it tasted the same as it smelt. I don’t know why you guys are making such a big deal about it,” he said before dropping back into the bean bag chair.

Tucker just laughed it off, “So what’s the consensus?”

But Danny didn’t answer right away. He was slowly running his hand back and forth against the carpet. Almost like he was in a trance.

“Danny?” Sam asked cautiously really hoping she didn’t just kill him. Again.

He looked up at the sound of his name but his eyes looked a little unfocused. “Yeah?”

“What did it taste like?” Tucker asked again, slowly, and just as worried as Sam felt.

“Like pomegranates. Which is weird because it didn’t smell like that.” his attention went back to the floor, “has your carpet always felt this nice?” he asked slowly rubbing both hands back and forth across the fibers.

Sam and Tucker just looked at each other but neither seemed to know what to make of that.

“You feeling alright?” Sam ventured.

He nodded, “Feel fine. Actually, “ he looked back up to them as a dazed grin slowly spread across his face, “I feel great.”

Tucker looked from Danny’s near delirious face, to the bag on the table, then back to Danny before he suppressed a snicker.

Sam glared at him, “What could possibly be so funny right now?”

“Is that a weed?” Tucker asked with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Part of her wanted to ask why he asked that, another part wanted to know why he asked with such bad grammar, and that’s when she realized what he was saying.

“Did you just quote a Vine at me?!”

Danny immediately busted up laughing. He always enjoyed a well-placed meme but he was enjoying this a little too much.

“The site said it was supposed to calm a ghost’s energies. I just thought it would make him sleepy or it would make a good painkiller.”

Tucker busted up laughing as well. “Hey Danny, what’s the vibe?”

“Chill dude! It’s so chill. We straight vibin’.” he said while attempting to make snow angels in the carpet.

Sam put her head in her hands. She did not want this. She could not have her parents come down here and see him like this. If Tucker thought he seemed high there’s no way her parents wouldn’t make that assumption too.

Then again. She dared to peak at her potentially intoxicated friend.

He was currently trying to take his shirt off by just pulling himself around the floor by his heels as his back dragged along the ground.

Oh no. He was high, wasn’t he?

“Dude, do you need help?” Tucker offered, still giggling.

Danny nodded with the dopiest grin before sitting up.

“You want that off?” Tucker asked and received the most eager nod in return. “Okay arms up,” he said as if he was directing a small child and not, in fact, a fellow teenager.

As the hem of Danny’s shirt made its way up his torso Sam’s brain finally caught up with what was happening. “What are you doing?” Sam sputtered suddenly feeling very warm.

“I don’t wanna wear that anymore. Doesn't feel nice.” Danny said with the same dorky smile.

Except now he was topless.

Danny wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Danny.

No shirt.

She’d never seen him without a shirt before.

She had hoped, thought when they first went to the waterpark last summer that she would. But he wore a tank top the whole time.

He said he sunburned easily.

But then why didn’t he wear a shirt with sleeves? Because shoulders can get sunburns. That’s normally where you would get them if you’re standing out in the sun all day.

She just assumed he was shy.

Yet here he was.

Topless.

Right in front of her.

In her house.

Why?!

Tucker was apparently not at all alarmed by this state of undress.

Then again they did have gym together so they would be changing together and-

DON’T THINK ABOUT THAT!!

“Room!” she blurted out with such force the boys were startled into paying attention to her, “We need to go to my room.”

Danny was agreeable enough and got himself off the floor. But the way he did it was more like how a toddler would. Butt first, then into a wobbly standing position.

Sam just sped walk to the stairs and ignored the stupid smug look on Tucker’s face.

======================================================

Once they were safely locked in her room Sam pulled out her laptop and tried to find the stupid site where she had gotten her terrible translation for that awful plant.

Or maybe some sort of remedy on how to get him un-high. Sober?

Tucker was sitting in her gamer chair casually turning the seat from side to side while Danny had claimed the bed. He had all of her pillows shoved into the headboard and had successfully burrito-ed himself in her comforter. “You guys ever go into the woods and look for beetles?”

Sam stopped mid-type and just stared straight ahead. He was about to say something stupid, wasn’t he?

“I like the way they cronch.”

“Danny no.” Sam wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.

Tucker accidentally sent himself into a slow spin as he laughed, “Are you eating bugs?”

“You try flying at over a hundred miles fast and not get a belly full of bugs.”

“Close your mouth maybe?” Sam suggested despite knowing he would find a way to counter it.

“But how will I make joke?”

Ah, there it is.

“Are we just going to glaze over the fact that he started this conversation off by asking if we go into the woods to hunt for beetles?!” Tucker asks, finally getting his laughter under control.

“What, I’m supposed to watch Bear Grylls eat a bug and not want to try one myself?

“You are legit feral!”

"Y'all just picky eaters."

"Y'all?!"

"My aunt is from Arkansas, I think that makes me legally allowed to use Southern-isms."

"This is the best thing that's ever happened!" Tucker hugged his sides as he laughed, "We should have got you high earlier. This is the funniest you've ever been."

"Aw, thanks, Tuck," Danny said bashfully before he threw the blanket off himself and crawled off the bed. "Hug time!"

"Wait, what?" was all Tucker had time to say before Danny sat in his lap, wrapped his arms around him, and nuzzled into his neck.

Danny hummed contentedly, "You're warm."

"Well maybe if you hadn't taken your shirt off you'd be warm too?"

"No. It made me feel gross. Pants do too." He muttered with a grumpy pout.

"Please keep your pants on!" Sam begged because she knew she wouldn't survive if he didn't.

"Boo." He huffed as he crossed his arms.

"Danny, you're still sitting on me."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why?"

"Because you looked lonely." He looked down at his lap as he twiddled his fingers together, "and I figured we'd be less lonely together."

Oh no, that was really cute.

"Thanks man, but I think I'm good now."

"Oh, right. Okay."

Danny didn't make any moves to get up.

Tucker moved his head so he could catch Danny's eye, "are you still lonely?"

Danny poked his pointer fingers together repeatedly as the lightest blush dusted across his cheeks, "yeah."

"You know," Tucker started with a sly grin creeping across his face, "goths are notoriously lonely people."

Tucker locked eyes with her and the utter betrayal she felt was unmatched. She was so getting him back for this!

Danny's eyes lit up in excitement, and also with ghostly energy, as he floated off Tucker's lap.

She barely had enough time to put her laptop away before he tackled her with his enthusiastic affection.

She mouthed, "I hate you," at Tucker after brushing Danny's hair away from her mouth.

Gosh, his hair was so soft. It was like what you think clouds should feel like.

Her heart was beating so fast. Or was it his?

God, he was so close.

He was nuzzling into a spot just to the right of her collarbone and below her shoulder.

"Your shirt feels nice." He finally stopped and leaned back to meet her eyes, "Take it off."

"What? No!" She sputtered as she tried very hard not to yeet him across the room.

"Why not?" He pouted clearly missing how not okay that was to say.

"Because I'm wearing it! Just go get something from my closet if you want to wear my clothes so bad!"

He immediately took her up on the offer and scurried off to her closet.

"Wow, it's so big in here! It's like another room in your room."

"That's what a walk-in closet is you dingus!" Tucker shouted playfully.

Danny laughed as the sound of hangers sliding across the rod as he perused her selection carried into her room.

Just as Sam started to relax the very distinct sound of a zipper opening and denim dropping to the floor broke the comfortable silence.

Sam was pretty sure all the blood in her body evaporated.

"You want me to check on him?" Tucker asked already half out the chair.

"Please."

Tucker walked over cautiously, "Hey Danny, you about done in there?"

"Yeah, I'll be right out."

Tucker lingered just outside of the doorway of the closet, "You remember that Sam asked you not to take off your pants right?"

"But I found better ones."

Tucker turned back to her and whispered, "Better ones?"

She just shrugged and waved for him to continue.

"Right, can I come in?" He asked with so much question in his voice it sounded like he didn't actually want to.

"Sure! You can let me know if it's a look or not."

Tucker took a breath, stealing himself for whatever he was about to witness. He took a step forward and crossed the threshold and then another step he was out of view.

It was quiet for a moment before Tucker let out a poorly suppressed snicker. "Well, it's definitely a look."

Sam took her own steadying breath before walking into the closet herself.

Danny was there smiling down at his new outfit, before looking up at her. "So what do you think?"

The first thing she noticed was that he was wearing the DIY’ed crop top of her oversized Dumpty Humpty concert tee, the thick chunky fringe swayed from side to side as he moved.

Her eyes slowly traveled downward and found he was wearing bright baby blue capri leggings that were covered in sickeningly happy large white daisies. And to top it all off the shiny opalescent fabric of a high-waisted pleated skater skirt was the final item of his nightmare outfit.

He was a fashion disaster in the truest form.

She wasn’t sure if she should even bother asking why he chose what he did, there might not be a method to this madness.

Tucker on the other hand, apparently had no qualms in asking any question that popped into his head, “So why the skirt?”

“It reminds me of Jazz.”

“How?”

“We used to play dress up,” he admitted while twisting at the waist to get the skirt to flare around him.

He stopped abruptly and declared, “I want cheesy fries,” before grabbing them each by the hand and walking back into her room and towards the door.

Oh no, they could not go out like this. He could not go out like this! She is very sure he would not like it if anyone saw him dressed like this.

“How about I order them and we can watch a movie here?” She cursed herself internally because if he agreed to that they’d have to go back downstairs and it would make coming up here pointless.

“But Nasty Burger doesn't deliver.” he countered as he swayed his shoulders back and forth which caused both the crop top fringe and the pleats of the skirt to sway to the same hypnotic beat.

“I have my ways.” Those ways were an obscene inheritance. She found a lot of people did a lot of things if you just paid them the right amount.

“Okie Dokie Loki!” he agreed cheerily before skipping through her closed bedroom door.

Right, ghost powers. He still had those.

======================================================

Once she was confident enough that Tucker was keeping Danny distracted, Sam called the Nasty Burger to place their order. She figured she might as well just get something for everyone and make the delivery worth the person’s time.

The phone was answered on the 4th ring, “Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I know this is going to sound stupid, but could you take a delivery order for me?”

“We don’t do delivery?”

“I know, but can you make an exception? Just this once? I can pay extra!” God, she hated using her wealth this way.

“How much extra are we talking?”

But it was hard to argue with the results. “Name your price.”

After a bit of haggling for haggling’s sake, Sam was able to place her order. Now all she had to do was wait.

The stereo in the basement came on and it was obviously turned up pretty loud, but she couldn’t tell what the song was from her spot by the front door. Her leg bounced with impatience until the doorbell finally rang.

She popped up and sped walked to the door, cash in hand.

She opened it quickly to find Valerie on the other side. Sam sighed realizing that she should have expected that.

That‘s why the voice on the phone sounded so familiar.

“So I have to ask, why can’t you leave your house?”

Before she had time to come up with an excuse, he appeared.

“Valerie!” He cheered before running over and into Sam when he didn’t stop in time. “Are those my cheesy fries?”

Valerie’s expression went from surprise, to confusion, to perplexed amusement. “What are you wearing?”

“It’s my new fit! Do you like it?” he swishes to set the skirt and fringe back into motion. That seemed to be his favorite part of the outfit as far as she could tell.

“It’s definitely a statement.”

“Oh wait! I forgot the best part!” he reached into the pocket of the skirt. Which surprised Sam because she didn’t know that had pockets.

Then he pulled out something that made her even more confused, mostly because she had absolutely no idea where the heck he had even gotten those from.

He slipped on a pair of pale blue shutter shades and slipped them on. “Now it’s complete.”

Valerie stared at him for a good 20 seconds then leaned in almost nose to nose with him. "Are you high right now?"

"That depends," Danny slowly slides the shades down his nose, "Are you the police? Because if yes?" He pushes the glasses back up to sort of hiding his bloodshot eyes, "Nope."

Sam just closed her eyes, “I will pay you an extra two hundred dollars if you never breathe a word of this to anyone.”

“Make it two-fifty. I’ve got rent to pay.”

“Fine!” she pulled out the money and aggressively traded the food for the stupid amount of cash. She hated that she literally just had to pay Valerie hush money.

Danny better appreciate the lengths she was willing to go for him.

#phic phight #phic phight 21 #lexosaurus #Danny Phantom #Phan fic #My longest entry and it's for someone on my own team #updated with the full fic for those of you who like reading on Tumblr better than AO3

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flowerfan2 · 5 years ago

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A Wonderful Christmastime

Klaine, 1600 words, A03.

Summary: Sometimes being up in the middle of the night together is an act of love. A moment of holiday peace for Kurt and Blaine.

Note: This fic incorporates the first seven words of Klaine Advent 2020 (abashed (a classic fic word if ever there was one), brake, careless, dispensable, event, farm, and gray). It also marks my sixth (non-consecutive) year of writing for Klaine Advent.

The inspiration for the story came from a conversation with @mildly-allergic-to-life and is a gift for her - I hope you like it! Thanks also to my wonderful beta, @perryavenue.

********

Blaine snuggles deeper into the blankets and turns over, reaching out to pull Kurt against him – it’s chilly on this December night, and he knows Kurt’s feet will be cold, but he doesn’t mind. Sadly, his hand flops onto their soft flannel sheets without finding his husband. Moments later, Blaine’s half-asleep brain registers the sound of Kurt’s voice through the monitor and he smiles despite the late hour.

He drags himself out of bed and steps across the narrow hall to Taylor’s room. Kurt is lying on the floor next to her crib, singing quietly with careless grace, one hand resting gently on their baby’s back.

“Hey,” Blaine whispers. “How long have you been in here?”

Kurt twists his head to look at Blaine. “Most of the first act, and part of the second, but I skipped some of the songs.” He glances at their daughter and back at Blaine. “Legally Blonde is inspirational, but not entirely age appropriate.”

“Come to bed, you must be exhausted.”

“I can’t,” Kurt says. “Every time I take my hand off her back she wakes up.”

“Bring her with you,” Blaine says. Since they brought their newborn home six months ago this has been the topic of constant debate in their house, and with everyone they know, who all apparently feel qualified to share their opinion on how to get babies to sleep. They waver back and forth between keeping her in bed with them and trying to get her to sleep on her own, and various compromises in between. (And as they told Tina, who insisted that their very lack of routine was the problem, maybe as long as the three of them are happy and healthy she should just keep her opinions to herself.)

“You have rehearsal all day tomorrow,” Kurt says. “You need to rest. I can stay here, I don’t mind.” Kurt has built himself a little nest on the floor out of a spare quilt and throw pillows, and he’s wearing his fluffy slippers on his ever icy feet, but he still can’t be all that comfortable.

“I’ll sleep better with the two of you in our bed,” Blaine replies. Kurt shrugs, and accepts Blaine’s hand as he reaches down to help Kurt up.

As predicted, Taylor blinks her gray-blue eyes open as soon as Kurt stops touching her, but Blaine scoops her out of bed and nuzzles her little face before she can make a noise. When he looks up, Kurt is gazing fondly at the two of them.

“She has your eyelashes,” Kurt says, and Blaine grins.

“She’s a baby, they all have eyelashes like this.”

“That’s a lie, she has the best eyelashes of any baby ever. And she’s definitely going to have your enviable curls,” Kurt goes on, touching the still wispy dark hair on their daughter’s head.

“If she does, you’re in charge of hair care.”

“As if I’d let you get your gel anywhere near her.” It’s a running joke, but Blaine is serious – his hair looks so much better now that he let Kurt take charge of his products. Of course, these days he’s lucky to catch a shower before running off to rehearsal, let alone have time to style his hair, but that’s another story. Taylor comes first, and no amount of bedhead is going to change that.

Back in their own room they slide under the covers, carefully settling Taylor between the two of them, Kurt reaching across to lay his hand on Blaine’s waist. There’s a soft reddish glow to the light, coming in from the Christmas decorations in their living room. It feels peaceful.

“So what made you choose Legally Blonde to sing tonight?” Blaine asks, keeping his voice quiet as Taylor settles back into sleep. “With all the Sondheim you’ve done lately, I would have thought you’d have picked one of those.”

“I know, right?” Kurt replies. “I think it started because I had the part about the department store stuck in my head.”

“First take a deep breath, take it all in. Feel all the halogens warming your skin,” Blaine sings.

“I always loved that song. I mean, who would have thought there’d be a song about how amazing it feels to walk into the fragrance section of a department store?” Kurt says reverently.

“Right?”

“Don’t tease, you know I’m serious about the value of personal service for some things,” Kurt says. “Websites are good for certain products, but you can’t discover your personal scent on your computer.”

“Did you know that Harry Gordon Selfridge started putting the perfume counter by the front doors in part to cover up the, um, less pleasant odors outside?”

Kurt frowns. “No, but if that’s true, it makes sense. I figured it was just to entice people into spending money on scent while they were on their way in looking for clothes.”

“That too.” Blaine sighs. “So, what made you think about department stores? Have you been worrying about holiday shopping? Because we said we were going to go easy on that this year.” He inclines his head towards the baby lying between them. They love their child more than either of them can express, but she is a money pit, and they have had to revise their current budget several times to identify dispensable items.

“I think it was more that I’m so used to searching the web for deals at night…” Kurt breaks off and glares at Blaine, “and no, I was not online shopping just now.”

Blaine smirks. “I know. Your phone is still on your nightstand.” For the first few months of parenthood Kurt had spent way too much money keeping himself awake during midnight feedings by scouring the web for deals on fabric and craft supplies. After a frank review of their credit card bills, Kurt had agreed to put the brakes on his nighttime online shopping sprees.

Kurt taps his finger against Blaine’s hip. “I may have purchased a few items yesterday,” he admits, abashed. “But they were all for Taylor. Mostly I just send my dad and Carole links. If we leave them to their own devices who knows what they’ll buy her, and they’re happy to farm out the task to me.”

They lapse into silence, listening to the even, soft breaths of their little girl, who has finally loosened her grip on the silk-trimmed blanket she can’t bear to be without.

“I do understand the urge,” Blaine says. “Like wanting to stop and shop for unnecessary plastic objects…” Blaine says, a snippet of another song passing through his brain, and Kurt looks at him questioningly. “You know, from Nanci Griffith’s intro to that song, when she talks about the need to go into a Woolworth’s and buy unnecessary plastic objects?”

Kurt gazes at him, charmed. “No, I don’t know that one.”

“It’s called Love at the Five and Dime.” Blaine hums it for a second, remembering driving in the car with his mom, singing along.

“Rita was sixteen years, hazel eyes and chestnut hair. She made the Woolworth counter shine. And Eddie was a sweet romancer, and darn good dancer, and they'd waltz the aisles of the five and dime.”

”And they'd sing - "Dance a little closer to me Dance a little closer now Dance a little closer tonight Dance a little closer to me 'cause it's closing time and love's on sale tonight at this five and dime."

The melody is soft and sweet, and Blaine does his best to echo the singer’s gentle, swinging style.

Kurt rubs his thumb along Blaine’s hip. “That’s really pretty.”

“I’ll play it for you sometime. She does this neat thing where she plinks her guitar string to sound like the ‘ding’ of the elevator. I think it would work on the piano.”

“It’s a nicer shopping song than the Legally Blonde one,” Kurt says.

“It’s about love, not shopping, really.”

“So is the Legally Blonde one,” Kurt insists. “Elle is taking Emmett shopping for clothes so that he has exactly the right look to give him the confidence he needs. That’s an act of love.”

“I know.” Blaine smiles at Kurt, thinking of all the hours they’ve spent selecting outfits, Kurt never failing to offer his opinion on what Blaine should wear for an audition, or an interview, or some other career defining event. Kurt always does everything he can to help Blaine feel prepared to face the world, and Blaine appreciates it more than he can say.

“Anyway, I like the song,” Kurt says. “Sing some more.”

Blaine smiles and sings the rest of the Nanci Griffith song. By the end, the hand Kurt had rested on Blaine’s hip has gotten restless, and is moving enticingly towards Blaine’s ass.

“Honey?” Blaine asks, catching Kurt’s eye. “Is me singing about shopping turning you on?”

Kurt runs his hand back over Blaine’s hip, then walks his fingers up Blaine’s chest over his pajama shirt, his touch light and teasing. He catches Blaine’s gaze. “You should know by now, you singing about anything turns me on.”

They both look at Taylor, who is sleeping deeply now, her whole body lax. They obviously can’t get intimate with her lying in between them, but…

“Wanna go fool around by the Christmas tree?” Blaine asks, grinning.

They extricate themselves from the bed carefully, arranging the blankets just the right distance away from and around their daughter, and creep out to the living room. Kurt takes an afghan off the couch and spreads it on the floor. They lie down together, gazing at each other under the twinkling lights, until Blaine pulls Kurt into a fervent kiss.

At one point they roll a little too close to the tree, and they freeze, giggling, as Kurt re-positions a sparkling ornament so it doesn’t fall on them during an inopportune moment. And if Blaine has a bit of tinsel in his hair come morning, no one minds a bit.

End notes (sorry, I seem to have a lot of notes for this little fic)

The songs mentioned are Nanci Griffth’s very lovely Love At The Five And Dime, and Take It Like A Man from Legally Blonde. I really also wanted to work in the Barenaked Ladies ode to shopping, too, (just called Shopping) but it didn’t fit. Title is from Paul McCartney’s song A Wonderful Christmastime, covered by the Barenaked Ladies on their holiday album (which is great and includes some really fun Hanukkah songs too).

Note also that Blaine and Kurt are also tired of people asking about their baby’s name, as well as poking their nose into her sleeping habits. They picked Taylor because it’s gender-neutral and they like it, and not because Blaine knows the words to every Taylor Swift song.

#Klaine Advent 2020 #Klaine Advent: grey #Klaine #Klaine fic #@mildy-allergic-to-life #Holiday fluff #10 Years of Klaine

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dweetwise · 5 years ago

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presenting the weirdest and crackiest but also fluffiest shit i’ve ever written, i bring you nearly 5k words of riconti snail au snippets. if you haven’t seen @skllyr‘s adorable art about them, you should!

ship: felix x ace warnings: none word count: 4850

Felix X Ace: Love is stored in the snail

Ace Visconti thought he’d seen it all; from lavish spectacles of prestigious poker tournaments to the dangerous underworld he inevitably ended up involved with, and finally to a realm where the laws of nature meant nothing and death wasn’t permanent. But what eventually takes the cake for Weirdest Shit Ace Has Ever Seen isn’t one of the otherworldly monsters hunting him or seeing one of his numerous wounds heal up right before his eyes; it’s a snail. A goddamn snail. It just appears at the campfire one day, sitting on top of a medkit Dwight reaches for and causing the boy to yelp in surprise once he sees the small stowaway. Ace doesn’t quite understand why everyone is suddenly so eager to take a closer look at a random slug instead of hearing one of his exciting and totally-not-embellished stories, but he joins the small commotion forming around the snail nonetheless. And then he suddenly sees why. The snail not only has an eye-catching light blue shell with a gaudy flamingo pattern on it, it’s also dressed up in tiny sunglasses and a baseball cap between its antennas. Ace looks down at his own pastel blue flamingo sweater and fidgets self-consciously with his shades, wondering whether he should bring up the uncanny likeness— “Is it just me, or does the snail look Ace?” Laurie asks, glancing between Ace and the bug with furrowed eyebrows. “No, I… definitely see a resemblance,” Dwight says. “What should we name it?” Claudette asks. “I mean it's a snail that looks like Ace, so… Snace?” Nea suggests. “Snace it is!” Meg decides, snickering at Ace’s misfortune. “I'm glad you're having fun,” Ace snorts, glaring at the snail for stealing his spotlight. The girls hurry to make a home for the snail in the medkit, which Ace finds all kinds of ridiculous. They give it some bandages and twigs to hide and "play" in, whatever the fuck that means for a snail, and Claud gives it edible flowers to nibble on.

Ace tries his best to ignore the snail, but when he gets back from a trial and sees some of the group passing it between their hands and taking turns to hold it, he can’t help watching them. It’s Dwight’s turn now, their leader cradling the snail in his hands and looking way too happy with the situation. “Do you want to try?” Dwight asks, noticing Ace's staring. “Uhh… sure," Ace says, not having the heart to ruin everyone’s good mood. He goes to grab the snail from Dwight's hand, lifting it by the obnoxiously colored shell— “Not like that, you absolute moron!” Jake snaps, slapping Ace's hand away. “You're going to hurt him. You need to slide him off, not lift upwards,” Jake explains, showing how to do it, plopping the snail down on Ace's hand. It's… slimy and kind of gross. The snail seems confused, feeling around with its antennas. And then, it slowly starts to slither forward. “It's kinda cute,” Ace realizes, watching the little snail face with its little shades. It's the coolest snail he's ever seen for sure, but he wouldn't expect anything less from his doppelgänger. “You go, little guy,” Ace encourages the snail, poking it gently on its shell in encouragement. The snail wobbles a bit, and then its tiny face turns to look at Ace, and— “Ew, it pooped on me!” Ace realizes and Dwight chokes on a laugh while Jake smirks smugly and removes Snace from his hand. Ace could just be imagining it, but the snail looks way too pleased with himself.

Other survivors join and, sooner or later, everyone except Ace seems to fall in love with Snace. “He's just like Ace,” their newest teammate, Kate, comments. “What's that supposed to mean, Sunshine?” Ace challenges playfully. “He's a little slimey but everyone still loves him!” Kate smiles brightly and Ace’s witty comeback dies on his tongue at the unexpected heartfelt remark.

And eventually, when their small group has expanded to over twenty people, there's Felix. And no matter how hard he tries, Ace can’t help sneaking glances at the serious German. He’s tall. Blond. Handsome. Rich. Smart. Did he say handsome? Oh, and Felix hates Snace. “This is our pet snail, Snace!” Steve introduces with an excited grin while giving Felix the tour of their modest campgrounds. “A… snail?” Felix frowns. “Yeah! Do you wanna hold him?” Steve asks, already reaching his hand into the medkit. “No!” Felix recoils away, before seeming to collect himself. “I'm, um… not a pet person.” Ace tries (and fails) not to take it personally that Felix finds Snace to be repulsive and will just scoff and roll his eyes whenever the others discuss him. What the hell is his problem, anyway?

And then, something never before seen happens; they get another snail. “Guys!” Cheryl runs into camp, looking out of breath and cradling something in her hands. “Look what I found!” Ace goes to look right along with the others, and in the girl’s hands is a pale snail with a dark blue shell and a pattern resembling a suit collar on its neck. It doesn't have fashionable accessories like Snace, but there’s a tiny briefcase next to it. “Oh my god! He's so cute!” Meg squeals, making the snail retract into its shell in fear. “Aww, he's shy!” Kate coos. “Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?” Nea suddenly says with a grin, glancing between Felix and the snail. Several heads turn in the German's direction, taking in his dark blue suit and pale complexion. “…What?” Felix asks, just as standoffish as ever. “Snelix!” Nea exclaims proudly. When several others join in to cheer and chant Snelix’s name, Felix just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in a gesture that screams "end me".

Everyone is eager to introduce Snelix to Snace, gathering around the medkit, even forcing Felix to watch. “Look, Snace! A new friend!” Cheryl says, gently plopping Snelix down into the medkit. Snace immediately starts slithering toward him, while Snelix just seems confused, rooted in place. “Aww! He's excited!” Dwight smiles. Snace reaches out his snail whiskers in a greeting, and Snelix recoils, slinking a little into his shell. “Oh, he's nervous!” Kate coos. “Don't worry doll, Snace is nice.” As if sensing the woman's words, Snelix cautiously comes out of his shell, hesitantly reaching out an antenna. “There you go, bud!” Ace encourages his snailself. “Take it slow, don't scare him away.” He glances at Felix, standing at the edge of the group with his arms crossed. If only people had it as easy as snails— “Oh, god!” Nancy exclaims in disgust, making Ace look back at the snails. And seeing Snace groping Snelix with his antennas while backing him into a corner. “Hey!” Ace chastices. “What did I just say!?” “Someone save him!” Laurie urges, but it seems Snelix can take care of himself, turning around and slinking up the medkit’s wall. “Aww, he's running away,” Steve pouts. “Good,” Felix huffs quietly from behind the group, and Ace pretends not to hear him. He also pretends that the comment doesn't sting, after trying and failing to get through the German's cold exterior for weeks.

Quentin tries to give Snelix one of his medkits to give him a place to live, but Snelix refuses to go in until it's cleaned up. “What a little snob,” Quentin snorts. “Yeah, how weird is that,” Yui smirks and glances at Felix in a way that’s definitely not subtle. Felix just scoffs and crosses his arms but, thankfully, doesn’t take the bait.

“Guys, I think Snace is depressed,” Meg says one day, looking into the medkit with a frown. “He's not even eating!” Claudette adds worriedly. “Maybe he's dying of old age,” Feng snarks. “I heard that,” Ace shoots back without any real heat. The snail isn't the only one who is feeling under the weather, Felix ignoring him for the last few days taking a toll on his confidence. “What if he misses Snelix?” Cheryl frowns. “Maybe we should try to introduce them again!” Steve exclaims. “No way,” Yui says. “Just because they're both snails doesn't mean they have to be friends.” “Yeah, let's at least give Snelix some time to settle in first,” Jeff suggests.

“Oh shit! Help!” Nea shouts not long after their previous conversation. “What's wrong?” Jane asks worriedly, immediately going into mom-mode. “Snelix is gone!” Nea says, showing them the empty med-kit. Is only takes those three words for the entire camp to erupt into panic. “NOBODY STEP ANYWHERE!” Jane commands. Thus commences the search for Snelix, with everyone participating and even Felix looking surprisingly worried. They eventually find Snelix is Snace's medkit, where they're just sitting next to each other munching on some leaves. “Aww! He walked all the way to his friend!” Kate beams. “Look how cute they are together!” Cheryl smiles. Ace feels his face heating up upon seeing the snails' close proximity. It almost looks like they're sitting next to each other cuddling while sharing a meal. He can't believe Snelix would actually come around, not to mention go through all that trouble to be with Snace. Someone probably put him there, but nobody fesses up. “Are they k-kissing?” Dwight squeaks in surprise when the snails seem to interrupt their meal just long enough to move their tiny whiskers together. “They're snails,” Zarina deadpans. “Most likely just conversing,” Adam adds. “I'm so glad they're getting along now!” Claudette sighs in relief. “Bro… what if we kissed? And we're both snails?” Feng says, propping her elbows up on a tree stump to watch the snails together. “Best snails forever,” Meg grins, joining the gamer. Ace discreetly clears his throat and mentally kicks himself for being jealous of goddamn snails. Even if him and Felix are getting along better day for day, Ace doesn't have any illusions that he’ll ever get to kiss the handsome architect. Still, a man can dream.

The snails seem happy to share a living space together and the next day, Ace even catches Felix observing them curiously. “It's funny how well our snails get along now,” Ace says conversationally, coming up beside Felix. “I'm not that surprised,” Felix says, looking at the snails climbing over each other and seeming to play together. “Looks like he just needed a little push,” Felix says bashfully. And something in Ace's head clicks at the comment. “Were you the one who put him there?” Ace asks, and Felix immediately clears his throat self-consciously. “I just wanted to try it,” Felix explains. “Maybe it would go better, since everything wasn't so new and people weren't staring. And it worked out.” Are… are they still talking about the snails? Or their own, slowly blossoming friendship? “He's been alone for so long,” Felix continues, looking back to the snails now sharing a piece of cucumber. “He deserves to be happy.” Felix smiles an adorable little smile and Ace realizes in just how deep shit he is with his stupid crush on the man. “I've never seen Snace so happy,” Ace agrees. “Just look at his smug little face.” “I thought he always looked happy,” Felix remarks. Ace fights himself for a moment, debating on whether he should be honest or not, or if he's read the situation completely wrong. “Maybe he's never had a real friend before,” Ace says, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Felix glancing at him, but doesn't dare look away from the snails.

And then one day… “Woah—what's wrong with the snails?” Steve calls from the medkit, Claudette immediately rushing closer to check. And then the botanist gasps in shock and everyone else hurries there too. “What happened—oh. Oh,” Quentin says, face flushing red, and Ace peers over the teen's shoulder to… See the snails in the middle of snail sex. “They're fucking,” Nea states matter-of-factly. “Yes Nea we can see that,” Laurie hisses, face pink from embarrassment. “Wot the—they're both blokes, innit?!” David seems confused. “Snails are hermaphrodites,” Adam points out. “Gay snails!” Feng exclaims cheerfully. “It's not gay if they're—” Adam tries again. “If what, they don't make eye contact?” Feng snickers right back. “No, I mean if they have both male and female reproductive organs,” Adam explains, looking embarrassed now. Ace glances at Felix and sees him staring at the snails with his mouth pressed into a thin line. But… he's also blushing. “Gay snails! Gay snails!” Feng, disregarding Adam's explanation, starts chanting. Jane and Laurie eventually have to pull some of the more eager onlookers away by their ears to give the snails some privacy.

One day, Felix returns from a trial and walks to Bill’s spot a little outside camp to return a map he borrowed earlier. He never makes it that far, because he spots Ace out in the woods, looking much more focused than Felix has ever seen as he fiddles with something in his hands. Ace doesn’t even notice him approaching, and Felix takes the opportunity to freely stare at the man who’s been slowly but surely occupying more and more of his thoughts. Ace’s sunglasses are pushed up into his hair and his tongue is poking out in concentration, and it’s completely beyond Felix’s understanding how someone can manage to look both so handsome and utterly ridiculous. “What are you doing?” Felix asks, and Ace’s head instantly snaps up to look at him in surprise. “I’m, uh…” Ace falters for once in his life, lowering his hands to hide whatever he was up to, but Felix catches the glint of something metallic. “Is that a needle? Do you need stitches?” Felix asks, not failing to hide the concern in his voice. “No, I—” Ace starts, but then falters and sighs in defeat. “Promise not to tell anyone.” He doesn’t wait for Felix’s reply before reaching his hand forward, opening his palm to show Felix… A tiny pink baseball cap with a thread and needle attached. “For… Snace?” Felix asks, struggling to take in the information that, somehow, this flamboyant loudmouth is making clothes for his pet snail. “He deserves a proper wardrobe, okay?” Ace huffs jokingly but pulls the project closer to himself defensively. It’s surprisingly… endearing. “I didn’t know you sewed,” Felix says instead of voicing his embarrassing thoughts. “Yeah, well, it comes in handy,” Ace points out. “Can’t tell you how many times I had to patch up a shirt after I barely escaped the cop—uh, competition,” Ace catches himself, grinning sheepishly. Felix raises a curious eyebrow but doesn’t push the topic. Instead, an idea forms in his head that he can’t help expressing. “Could you make a scarf for Snelix?” Felix says, and almost instantly regrets asking after realizing how stupid that sounds. But it makes Ace perk up in interest, and soon a wide grin is spreading over the gambler’s face. “Sure, I can do that!” Ace beams. “Why a scarf, though?” Felix is already opening his mouth to say because he loves scarves, but thankfully is able to stop himself. “They’re stylish,” he says instead. “Well well well, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were starting to like the little slimy bastards,” Ace grins. “They might be growing on me,” Felix admits with just the barest hint of a smirk. Hopefully Ace realizes he doesn’t mean just the snails.

One evening, Ace is sitting by himself, looking at Snace and Snelix living their best life. They eat a little bit of some of the flowers Claudette gave them earlier, before Snelix turns around to leave and Snace immediately follows him. They slither away to a secluded corner, laying next to each other and doing their little snail kisses, until Snelix eventually slumps and flattens to the ground, seeming to fall asleep. Snace sits next to him for a while, before he carefully moves away, slinking back to nom on the flowers. “Putting your boyfriend to sleep, huh?” Ace murmurs quietly, not wanting to wake Snelix. “I'm jealous of your life, buddy.” Snace lifts his head from the flower, his little shades looking Ace's way. “At least one of us got what he wanted. You did good for yourself, high five,” Ace whispers, holding up his finger in front of Snace for shits and giggles. And Snace, the snail that absolutely hates him, lifts one of his antennas and briefly touches his finger in a high five before going back to his meal. “Woah,” Ace breathes, a grin spreading over his face and glancing around camp, wanting to see if anyone was around to witness the event— And his eyes meet Felix's, standing behind him, staring at Ace talking to his snail like an absolute idiot. And probably having heard everything. “It, uh,” Ace starts when Felix isn't saying anything, the German's eyes wide from surprise. “He high-fived me.” “I, er…” Felix stutters in return, before clearing his throat. “I got some moss for them from Red Forest.” “Oh, neat,” Ace comments. “Snelix just fell asleep, but maybe you won’t wake him if you’re careful.” “No, I don't want to disturb them,” Felix says, crouching down next to Ace and placing the moss next to the medkit. They watch the snails in silence, Snace finishing his midnight snack, Ace debating on whether he should bring up the previous conversation or not. “Thank you,” Felix says instead, before Ace can strike up a conversation. “…For what?” “For being patient with me,” Felix murmurs. “I know I can come across as… cold.” Well that's an understatement if Ace has ever heard one. “Hmm, I guess you could say you needed some time to…” Ace says, pausing for comedic effect while he waits for Felix to turn to look at him for the punchline. “Come out of your shell.” Felix huffs a surprised laugh and turns his head away, but not before Ace sees a beautiful smile spreading over his normally serious face. They keep observing the snails, until Snace has finally had enough of the flowers, moving to lay next to Snelix. “Oh, he's awake,” Ace comments, seeing Snelix groggily lift his head toward Snace. He pushes up Snace's shades, dislodging the cap a bit before doing another little snail kiss. “Damn, that's adorable,” Ace grins. And then there's a hand on his temple, and Ace freezes as his shades are gently pushed up into his hair. He turns to look at Felix, heat rising up his neck, feeling vulnerable without the glasses, not able to hide his wide eyes searching Felix's own in a silent question. Felix's face is redder than usual but he looks more unguarded that Ace has ever seen, gaze dropping to Ace's lips while the hand on his forehead moves to cup his jaw. Ace holds his breath, not daring to say anything lest he ruin the mood and permanently mess up his chance with Felix. His thoughts are little more than white noise and excited screeching as he tilts his head up in silent invitation, and that's all it takes for Felix to lean down and claim his lips.

“Snace is getting fat,” Feng comments one day. “What!?” Ace exclaims, offended. “No he’s not!” “Hon, he does look a little… pudgier,” Kate comments. “He’s just… bloated, okay?” Ace insists, huffing defensively. “He’s a fucking fatass,” Feng corrects. “Yeah man, he’s really letting himself go,” Steve agrees with an infuriating smirk. “Okay, rude!” Ace scoffs. “Felix—” he starts, turning to his newly acquired boyfriend for solidarity, but sees the little shit is shaking from quiet laughter instead of being upset on his behalf. “Babe! Don’t tell me you agree with them!” Ace gasps in mock offense, hand over his heart. “Every time I’ve looked at him, he’s eating,” Felix manages to point out between snickers. “Absolutely terrible, the lot of you,” Ace huffs, peering into the medkit where the completely innocent Snace is… Munching on some berries Claudette placed there earlier. “You were saying?” Feng snarks, making Ace shoot a glare her way while Felix is still holding back chuckles.

When Ace gets back from a rather uneventful trial some time later, he notices Jake staring intently into the snails’ medkit. As he walks closer, it becomes apparent that the snails are having sex. “Jake, what the hell are you doing?” Ace asks the survivalist. “They've been at it for hours,” Jake says, face just as neutral as ever and not taking his eyes off the writhing clump of snail. “I'm a little concerned by how much you like watching my snail get laid.” “Nature is lit,” Jake merely offers. So Ace shuts the medkit, feeling weirdly exposed by having his snail’s private life invaded like that. “Give them some privacy, sheesh,” he chastises Jake. “Prude,” the boy snorts.

It’s only a few days before there is another episode of, as Felix likes to call it, snail drama. “Felix!” Ace shouts, making Felix sigh in fond irritation and pause his sorting of their shared stash of items that Ace has left an absolute mess (again). “Yes, love?” he asks, doing his best impression of an exasperated husband despite them only dating for what can't be more than a few weeks. And then he sees Ace's face full of both alarm and excitement, and immediately drops what he was doing. “What's wrong?” he asks, feeling the panic quickly bubbling up. “SNACE IS GIVING BIRTH!” Ace exclaims ten decibels louder than necessary, grabbing a confused Felix by his sleeve and dragging him toward the snails' home. Sure enough, there's a small commotion around the medkit, and when Felix peers into it he can see Snace in the middle of laying eggs, Snelix by his side in solidarity. “Come on dude! Push!” Feng is trying to encourage the snail. “Shh, you're stressing it!” Claudette chastises. “I told you guys he wasn’t fat!” Ace huffs proudly. After ten or so eggs, the process seems to be over, and Snace happily slithers away to go snack on some leaves. “Oh,” Claudette says, bewildered. “What?” Ace says. “I, um,” the botanist falters. “They usually lay about a hundred eggs…” “A hundred?” Ace screeches. “Don't you think ten kids is more than enough?” “Only a small portion of them actually hatch!” Claudette hurries to add. “Maybe he's going through menopause,” Jake, not so helpfully, supplies. “I'm going to smack you,” Ace threatens. Felix just chuckles and lays a hand on Ace’s shoulder to settle him.

Excited about the possibility of baby snails, the survivors take turns watching the eggs for the next few weeks. Eventually, it’s Cheryl who screams: “Guys! An egg is hatching!” Felix rushes to the medkit before anyone else, and in an instant Ace is peering over his shoulder too, both looking at the transparent, tiny antenna pushing out of one of the eggs. Snelix and Snace are right by the eggs, eagerly waiting to meet their offspring. And then the small snail plops completely out and starts wiggling around, and Ace honest to god squeals. “Look, Felix!” he says, tugging on Felix's sleeve. “We're grandparents!” “I'm… not sure that's how it works,” Felix points out, even as he smiles at Snelix petting his child with his antenna. “I'm gonna make so much baby snail clothes for her,” Ace continues with a wide grin, nearly shaking in his shoes in excitement. “'Her'?” Felix asks, and Ace falters. “I'm, uh…” Ace explains, looking away. “You said your kid's a girl, I mean based on the ultrasound before you were taken, so I figured…” Something in Felix's expression softens, touched that Ace would remember something like that. He steals a quick kiss while everyone is preoccupied with staring at the family of snails.

“What should we name their kid?” Jeff ponders a couple weeks later, watching the baby snail climb all over Snace while Snelix anxiously hovers nearby. “Ask the grandpas,” Feng snarks. “Yeah, have you decided on a name yet?” Cheryl asks, looking up at Felix with wide, shimmering eyes. “Err,” Felix says, glancing at Ace for help. Ace grins and discreetly nods toward the eager Cheryl. “Oh,” Felix seems to realize. “Yes, we were considering Ch—ehm, Sneryl.” Cheryl gasps in awe. “She does look like a Sneryl,” Jeff agrees. “What? It doesn't look like any—” Feng starts, but at Jeff's pointed look, thankfully shuts up. “She's the spitting image of a Sneryl!” Ace says, smiling in encouragement. “Really!?” Cheryl asks excitedly, looking between Felix and Ace. “Ah… of course,” Felix says, and then the breath leaves his lungs in a pained “Oof!” as Cheryl rushes in for a hug. “Thank you! I love having my own snail!” Cheryl beams while Felix awkwardly pats her on the head and looks at Ace with an expression that screams 'HELP'.

Seeing Sneryl grow over the following couple of months, Felix takes it upon himself to start building the snails a house out of a commodious toolbox. He might put in way more effort than necessary, making sure to separate different rooms with interior walls and adding corridors to entertain the snails. “Hey handsome, what're you doing?” Ace asks, placing a kiss against his temple as he comes up behind him to see what he’s working on. “I'm building our snails a house," Felix explains. "They have a family now, a cramped old medkit won't do.” Ace stares at him for a moment, and then a wide grin spreads over his face and he suddenly looks like he’s about to combust. “You’re so friggin adorable!” Ace exclaims and pulls him into a hug. And then he refuses to let go, clinging to Felix’s back like a koala while he keeps working on the house, and Felix would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. “…Can you make a poker room for Snace?” Ace asks after having observed his work for a while. “Poker? But they're—” Felix frowns, turning around just enough to see Ace's exaggerated, ridiculous pout. “…Fine. But you're making the furniture.” “You got it, babe!” Ace grins, before seeming to notice something. “Hey, what's that?" he asks, pointing at a drawn square on the side of the toolbox. “Oh. It's going to be a door,” Felix explains. “But what if Sneryl goes out and gets stomped on?” Ace asks worriedly. “I just…” Felix falters. “Thought that maybe they needed some freedom. Especially Snace.” “Huh?” Ace tilts his head in confusion. “He was alone for so long, I… assumed he'd probably get bored of the family life,” Felix says, looking at the ground in thought. He’s embarrassed for bringing up the subject of Ace’s loyalty like this, but once again, the snails are proving a wonderful excuse to talk about topics they otherwise wouldn’t. “That sounds like a load of bullcrap,” Ace grins, making Felix look up at him, still frowning. “I've never seen Snace so happy. He knew what he signed up for and there's no way in hell he's leaving now.” The reassurance feels like a weight lifting off of Felix’s chest, and he can’t stop the smile spreading over his lips. Hesitantly, he grabs Ace’s hand still wrapped around him, and Ace brings them both up to brush his lips over Felix's callused knuckles. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Ace murmurs, the sweet sentiment making warm affection spread through Felix’s entire body. “I, uhm,” Felix blushes, clearing his throat. “Is this a good time to point out I just had the snails crawl over the back of my hand…?” Ace sputters and immediately wipes at his mouth while Felix lets out a few quiet chuckles.

Following the conversation, Felix can’t help but read into Ace’s answer. Especially with the other survivors engaging in another round of the popular “What’s the first thing you’ll do when we escape?” game, Felix finds it difficult to focus on anything other than the possibility of a shared future. So, when he catches Ace alone, he hesitantly brings up the option of the man coming with him to Germany. “I know the possibility of escaping is slim,” Felix babbles nervously after Ace isn’t saying anything, just staring at him curiously. “But I can’t stop thinking about it, and I wanted to see where you are—” “Babe,” Ace interrupts, grabbing his arm to ground Felix from his scrambled thoughts, giving him an encouraging smile. “I’d love to.” Felix breathes out a relieved sigh, returning a shaky but happy smile over not getting rejected. And then Ace smirks mischievously and Felix’s instincts scream “Uh-oh”. “On one condition,” Ace adds, holding a finger in front of Felix’s face playfully. “Um… which?” Felix asks, nerves resurfacing. There’s not much that would make him say no, and he hopes he doesn’t have to, willing to make sacrifices for a potential future together. “The snails come with us,” Ace quips sheepishly instead. Felix chuckles and shakes his head in amusement, before pulling Ace in for a soft kiss. “I wouldn't have it any other way,” Felix murmurs against Ace’s lips, silently thanking the two dorky snails that allowed this to happen in the first place.

#dbd fanfic #riconti #dbd crack #dbd #dweetwrites #ace visconti #felix richter #dead by daylight

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katnissmellarkkk · 5 years ago

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AN: Hiiiii, alright I’ve been working on this story since I posted my first chapter and, as it turns out, no surprise, this is gonna be longer than I originally expected. Probably like five-ish chapters? I’m not re-writing every chapter or part of Mockingjay if Peeta wasn’t hijacked, just snippets of the essential plotline and events if Peeta hadn’t been hijacked.... did that make sense?

Alright, anyways, I wanna also take this time to say I definitely did not expect the amount of love I received on the first part of this and omg I’m so honored and touched. I really wasn't expecting you guys to be so supportive in this fandom. Thank you all so much, for liking, commenting and reblogging. It really made me so happy <3.

Also if you didn’t read part one and you want to, here’s the link.

I hope everything’s going well for all you reading this!

Also I need a title for this so any suggestions are more than welcome alright buh-bye.

Shattered Pearl

| Part One |

I know I've been shot. I felt it hit me, right underneath my chest. If I didn't vaguely remember standing in the tunnels, appealing to and pleading with the District Two men, trapped inside the Nut, the gunshot of a man standing behind us in the crowd, too cowardly to come closer and confront me to my face, if I didn't retain the image of seeing myself shot on television, I'd swear I'd been hit by one of the Capitol trains that once took me and Peeta district to district.

The thought of the train brought back memories I'd long held close to my heart. I had never spoken of nights shared between me and Peeta on the Victory Tour and prior to the Quarter Quell. Not to anyone. Not even Prim. It felt too personal and too vulnerable a memory to let anyone else claim it. For so long it was all I had to cling to, with him presumed dead and then only seen on Caesar's talkshow, tormented and a shell of the boy with the bread.

I miss him now, as I lay despondently, wherever I am. I feel a jabbing pain right where I predict I was shot, the injury feeling closer to a brutal beating than a penetration.

My mind whirls and flies and wracks itself up and down, backwards and forwards and side to side and somehow I can't remember even a split second where I felt the bullet enter into my body.

I feel my consciousness, my awareness, growing stronger now, slowly crawling in an upwards motion, like I was lying on the bottom of a lake and I'm only now floating to the top.

When my head breaks the surface, there's a bright, ugly, glaring light stinging my eyes and my first thought is one of comparison. Does Peeta experience this too, when he wakes up in his recovery room? Do they actually think that'll help anyone recover here, blasting unsettling yellow colors into their eyes as soon as they crack open? Is it their idea of a luxury, since everything and everyone else is so void of color here in Thirteen, like one of Peeta's drawings that have yet to be painted.

"Disorienting, huh?" I hear a familiar—so familar—voice laugh quietly. "I think Thirteen believes the more the lights hurt your eyes, the less we'll use them and the more energy they'll save in the end."

"Peeta?" I mean to murmur but instead my voice comes out in a whimper.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice all gentleness and sweetness now. The teasing, conversational edge is gone. He runs his fingers through my hair, pushing it back from my sweat covered forehead, hoping the ministration will soothe me.

It takes me longer than it should to place, but it strikes me after a moment that his voice now reminds me of a different foreign place and a different wound and an altogether different time.

The confusion. The comforting, appeasing voice. The soft, tender gesture. It eerily reminds me of waking up in the cave, after having bled out from my head, only to find my body weak and Peeta's shockingly strong and the tables turning and him taking care of me.

My hands act to their own accord and cannot be stilled, no matter how comforting Peeta's fingers feel, sifting through my hair.

I fumble roughly with the bandages covering my left side, where the bullet must have hit, and I force my eyes wide open now, in spite of the still disturbing light overhead.

"What am I still doing here?" I ask before I can really register what I'm saying. At his confused and—now I can see his features better, with my eyes adjusting to the brightness—exhausted face, I clarify. "The bullet didn't kill me?" I look to him for confirmation.

"No," he promises smoothly, understanding my puzzlement now. "No, I promise you, the bullet didn't kill you."

"What happened?" I ask, my voice and body both still far weaker than I'm in any way comfortable with. "I think I blacked out after I was shot."

Peeta forces himself to give me a faint ghost of a smile. "Yeah, I imagine that happens when a bullet hits you in the side." He takes my hand in his and begins to softly kiss it, repeatedly. Finally he replies, "you were shot on live TV and everyone in the country saw you go down. Coin and Plutarch decided immediately to spin this and fake your death. But Cinna made your Mockingjay outfit bulletproof. The bullet never touched you," he assures before adverting his eyes as they grew watery with his words.

"Peeta," I start, my voice raspy as it's ever been.

"I don't think I was that scared in the Capitol," he blurts out as if I didn't speak. "Snow knew, he always knew, that you getting hurt would have been worse torture than anything else he could have ever done to me."

"How do you think I felt when Snow and his guards had you prisoner?" I shoot back before I can stop myself. His torture was harrowing enough without me making it all about myself. He flinches slightly at my words but tries to mask it, for my sake, no doubt. I reach out and squeeze his hand, my body's grip embarrassingly lame and in no way soothing. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"No," he automatically refutes. "Don't apologize to me. You have enough people putting their burdens on your shoulders without adding me to that list."

I swallow hard now, my memory starting to piece everything together and I remember suddenly that this is the first time I've seen Peeta since Coin's men had essentially interrogated him into hysteria.

I hadn't told him I was even going to Two. I didn't even tell him how long I'd be gone.

And then I got shot on camera. And—as I should have predicted—the rebels used this opportunity to their advantage.

I can imagine what that felt like for him. I remember on the hovercraft to and for the first few weeks in Thirteen. Refusing to eat. Refusing to speak. Hiding in closets and sleeping only sporadically. Picturing every single time I closed my eyes Peeta being beaten to death, Peeta being abused, Peeta crying out helplessly.

I wait for him to blink back his tears again before final speaking. "Can I apologize for not telling you I was going to Two in the first place?"

Something new crosses his features and in place of the fear, the agony, the pain, comes an almost sarcastic, satirical expression. "Please do, Sweetheart."

I roll my eyes instinctively when he calls me sweetheart. He'd only ever called me that in the past to get on my nerves or irritate me. "You sound like Haymitch," I can't help but point out.

"This isn't sounding like an apology for lying."

"I'm getting there."

"I've been waiting for days."

I raise my eyebrow mockingly. "So that's why you're here by my bedside?"

"Only reason. I'm out as soon as I get my reparation."

"Well in that case," I trail off, shrugging—and inwardly cringing at the movement before bringing his hand to my lips now and planting a kiss there. "I'm not apologizing then."

He laughs and I pretend to be put out, which works until I try to cross my arms in false indignation and involuntarily eject a loud gasp of pain from the way the motion upsets whatever is broken inside of me.

Peeta drops the ruse then too and stand from his chair, sitting on the side of my bed to get closer to me. "Hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, cupping my cheek and turning my distressed face towards him now. "Breathe," he commands genially, leaning his forehesd against mine. "The pain will go away, Katniss, just breathe."

I let out a large breath but it only makes the pain worse and eventually I just grip the hand cupping my face and squeeze with all my might. The lame grip I felt ashamed of minutes before is now replaced with an adrenaline rush of strength and I nearly break Peeta's hand in my much smaller one.

He doesn't complain and begins to rub my back to calm me down. When the searing, paralyzing discomfort subsides, the first thing I utter is, "so if I never got actually shot, what is going on with my body?"

He strokes my face affectionately. "You have a bruised lung. Bruised ribs. And your spleen was ruptured so they removed that."

"So I'm without a spleen?" I realize, my voice raising involuntarily. For some reason, I'm petrified that a whole organ was taken out of my body and I had no say in it whatsoever.

"You don't need it, Katniss," Peeta quickly reassures.

I deflate then, not sure if I feel any better or not. Peeta's words suddenly come back to me.

"Katniss, these people aren't too different from the ones in the Capitol."

Would I trust Snow or his guards to remove my spleen? No. So should I be okay with Thirteen operating on me?

I shake my head, knowing this is redundant and ridiculous. My spleen was ruptured. They'd saved my life. I was being paranoid for nothing and I couldn't afford falsely accusing the very people I needed to survive. Especially not when they likely are what saved my life.

Peeta sees my face contort and the disheartenment etch itself across my features. Still remaining tender and cautious, he leans his own wounded, beaten face down and places kisses against my cheek.

I try to hold off but his lips bring a smile to mine, and even with all the confusion bubbling around my head, all the disbelief and uncertainty, in regards to my feelings towards him, Gale, Coin, this war and the Revolution itself, I still can't help the feeling of hope spreading across my chest, filling my heart up in a way I never let myself consider it could again.

"Peeta?" I whisper then and he pulls back from planting kisses on my face to look at me.

"Hmm?"

"If my lung is bruised, why did you tell me to breathe deeply to stop the pain?"

He freezes for a second, contemplating and considering before a slightly bashful smile crosses his mouth. "You're the healer here, not me," he finally teases. When I smile back at him, he leans in simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the word, and kisses me full on the mouth.

The kiss catches me off-guard but only after the fact. In the moment it feels right and tingly and reassuring and I'm lightheadedly happy and I don't even know what to make of how I feel on the inside.

"I'm not a healer," I remind with very little passion for the correction in my voice.

He laughs again lightly but then bites his lip and brushed my hair back. "You did say that to me in our first games, right? Real or not real?"

I hesitate for a full ten seconds before I respond, my face scrunching up. His words almost seem like an already formed game that no one had explained the rules of. "Real," I finally answer.

He's already elaborating before I can ask. "Finnick came up with it. He said it works for Annie and I should try it. If I'm ever unsure about anything that happened or what the Capitol tried to make me believe, I should ask." He shrugs then, slightly abashed. "It's repetitive-"

"It's actually a really good idea," I encourage, grabbing his hand in mine again and giving him a reassuring squeeze. And he looks at me then and gives me a grateful smile and his eyes are lighter now than they were when I woke up and I don't know where this is even going between us or if it's even going anywhere and I don't know where Gale stands and I really can't focus on my feelings right now because I'm a symbol of an entire revolution, whether I asked to be or not, and it may be selfish or immature, but I push away all my other conflicting thoughts and pull the boy with the pretty blue eyes down towards me.

He goes willingly, wrapping his body to me, only placing pressure on my right side, and I feel his face burrow in my neck. When his lips press to the sensitive skin there, like he's done dozens of times before, I shiver instinctively and close my eyes against him.

For the first time in forever I feel, for a fleeting moment, safe.

Prim and my mom interrupt not too long after that, but for some reason—other than Prim's cheerful smile—they don't comment on the compromising position they found us in.

Peeta promptly moves back to his previous chair and remains there for the duration of the day.

Haymitch joins us not even five minutes after my mom and sister, and he brings boiled cabbage stew from the cafeteria in tow.

"Here you go, Sweetheart," he says with a large smile, looking at the disgusting concoction with excitement now.

I look at the bowl, wishing I had more of an appetite so I could actually feel some desire to eat it. In spite of Haymitch's jokes, the cabbage stew would have been a luxury to me once upon a time, when all I could find to fill my screaming stomach was mint leaves and, if I were lucky, the roots I was named after. "How'd you know I'd be awake?" I inquire, turning the spoon around in the bowl.

"Oh I didn't," my old mentor quickly replies, plopping down in a chair against the wall. "It was for the boy." He gestured towards Peeta, who's running his fingers softly along my spine, inconspicuous enough that not even Prim catches on. "But I figure you deserve it more, since you're the one in the hospital. Speaking of that, why did you two switch places?" He asks, brash and wry.

My mom glares at Haymitch, disapproving of his callous comment, which catches me completely off guard.

My mother usually ignores all chatter between me and Haymitch and Peeta, only chiming in if Haymitch is speaking of something from Twelve that I'd be too young to understand.

I remember then watching Haymitch's tape on the train with Peeta, realizing he and my mom shared a permanent tie labeled Maysilee Donner. I look between them for a hint of familiarity I didn't see before and quickly realize Peeta's doing the exact same thing.

My mom quickly turns back to me, and gingerly but vigoriously, coaxes the stew into my stomach, even when I try to refuse because my ribs ache and using any of my muscles leaves me feeling irritable and shaky and hot inside.

"Just a little bit more, sweet girl," my mom murmurs, forcing me to finish the entire bowl, and it's only when Prim looks at me, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, that I realize my mom had used a long forgotten term of endearment. One that I'd rejected since her bout of deep, delbilitating depression.

I didn't comment on it and I don't think my mother even realized, but I avoid Peeta's eyes because evidently, by the looks of his smirk, even he knew the exchange was rare and hard to come by.

Just as I all but lick the soup bowl clean and my mom's whispering mournfully she has to go back to work and was only allowed to come see me for lunch. I am caught off guard once again though, when she kisses my forehead and whispers, with audible tears, that she loves me so much.

I feel like a monster all of a sudden, for the absolute hell I must have put her through.

I squeeze Prim's hand as tight as I can as she takes our mom's seat and scoots it even closer to my bed. "Hey, little duck," I greet in my most comforting voice. "How're things while I was gone."

Prim, as usual, puts up a-albeit, very weak-pretense in order to make me feel better. "They were okay for the most part." She pauses and bites her lip, contemplating to herself before adding. "It was just hard because we didn't even know you were leaving and then we watched you be shot on live TV."

"I know," I murmur apologetically, because it's all I can do. "I'm so sorry, Prim."

But my sister's shaking her head before I can finish and I swear Peeta and Haymitch roll their eyes at the same moment and if Prim wasn't here, I'd be telling them both off.

"No one's mad at you, Katniss," she promises, like that's my concern. People I love being angry, not people I love going through absolute turmoil. "Just... next time could you let us know?"

I nod automatically, because I want my sister to feel better, even though I'm unsure if I can even fulfill this promise. "Yeah, of course."

Prim just stares at me for a moment. "You're such a bad liar," she finally calls out.

Haymitch noisily laughs from across the room, but Peeta remains completely stoic now, and I want three sets of eyes so I could focus on multiple people at once.

I choose to keep my focus on my little sister. "Prim," I start, my voice still unconvincing. "I just... I never know what's going to happen next, so it's hard to know ahead of time what I'll do. The last thing I want, that I've ever wanted, was to worry you and mom."

"Yeah, but, Katniss," She refutes even and diplomatically. "You not telling us only makes it worse. Finding out from strangers you and Gale disappeared off to District Two on a secret mission with the rebels? Only to watch them fake your death? It was as bad as watching you in the games."

I feel my chest constrict and the breath fly out of my aching lungs as I swallow down the lump formed in my throat. "Prim, I never meant-"

"She knows, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, his hand sifting through my hair once again.

Prim looks at Peeta—with more familiarity than I've ever seen between them before—and then back at me. "He's right. I know you never meant for that to happen but... if you could just let us into the loop a little more, it'd make things a lot more bearable."

I nod, meaning my promise to keep her and our mom more informed now. I squeeze Prim's hand again and ask quietly, "how bad was mom when I was shot?"

Prim's eyes shoot to Peeta almost intractably. But I catch it and I press it before they can pretend it didn't happen.

"What's going on with you two?"

They both look at me in utter shock. Or is that the look of getting caught keeping a secret?

"Nothing," Prim immediately covers. Peeta, on the other hand, doesn't react so quick, and instead chooses to just shut his eyes to avoid looking at me.

There's something more going on that they want to avoid telling me. And instinctively, I don't think it's about my mother. Even without him meeting my glance, I can tell Peeta's embarrassed about something.

"Prim," I say evenly. "You're a worse liar than I am."

"You actually are, kid," Haymitch adds. "Didn't think that was possible."

"What happened when I was shot?" I ask again, my voice closer to a threat than a comfort now.

"Let it go, Katniss. It's not important," Peeta urges, his own voice more worn and irritated than I'd heard it since the last games.

"When has she ever let something go?" Haymitch ponders, unfazed by our whole exchange.

"Katniss," Prim starts but I cut her off. I can tell she was going to placate me, like getting shot turned me into our mother.

"As your older sister, you're not allowed to lie to me."

"C'mon now, Sweetheart. That's not being fair."

"Then you tell me, Haymitch. What happened when I was shot that they don't want me to know?"

Our old mentor sighs deeply but I can tell he's relenting. If I couldn't see the resignation on Haymitch's face, Peeta's whole body tensing up in anticipation would be a dead giveaway.

"The boy had a meltdown when you were shot," Haymitch finally states. He gives Peeta a long, measuring look before continuing. "He basically went ballistic and lost his grip on reality." He moves his eyes to train them on the floor of my hospital room. I know he's trying now to avoid Peeta's furious eyes, full of betrayal.

"What?" I turn and look at the boy beside me, remorse overtaking my entire being. I reach out and touch his face but he won't look at me, even when I try to force him.

"He was frantic for days. Couldn't tell the difference in reality and the lies the Calitol fed him. He was only released probably an hour before you woke up. So I guess you guys have good timing," Haymitch adds, trying too hard to lighten the mood.

"Peeta," I whisper after a beat, pleading with him to just look at me, talk to me, but to no avail.

"Peeta, talk to her," Prim begs on my behalf.

"It wasn't that severe," he finally states, his voice extremely muted now as he speaks in a hushed tone, only to me. "I didn't want to tell you because you don't need anything else on your plate. Especially not about me. And it was barely worth mentioning."

"I think it was worth mentioning," Prim chimes and Haymitch points at her and nods.

"She's got better sense than both of you."

Peeta ignores Haymitch. "Prim," he groans with an air of affinity that still boggled me. "Stop. It was fine."

"You were so upset though. And she should know, since she's the one the Capitol wanted to hurt when they tortured you," she advocates, impressing even me with her reason. "And I think we should all stop lying," my pure-of-heart little sister tacts onto the end.

Haymitch nods affirmatively towards Prim again, and I see something akin to wonder now in his eyes as he looks at her, and it takes no more than common sense to realize he's imagining life with Prim as his victor and how much easier that would have been.

"I just don't think now is the time to be talking about this, Prim," Peeta tersely states.

I can't help but interject now, after having witnessed their exchange this whole time, "I'm sorry, but do you two know each other?"

A look is exchanged between all three of them and I'm so tempted to ask if they'd like me to leave so they can freely converse in private. Finally Prim informs quietly, "me and mom were there with Peeta when he got upset. He actually helped mom because she had somewhere to focus all her own emotions. You know how she is, Katniss. When things get rough, she puts all of herself into her healing."

"Glad of be of service," Peeta mumbles despondently and I can see in his troubled eyes, he's blatantly ashamed of himself.

"Peeta," I murmur softly, taking his hand against his will—he tries to fight me from even picking it up—and bringing it to my lips.

He sighs deeply and offers me a half smile. "My being a lunatic doesn't disturb you?"

"Of course not," I quickly dispute. My mind is still processing all of this though. "So you and my family... bonded after I was shot?"

Peeta outwardly groans, dropping my hand. "Let it go, Katniss."

"I just never considered it a huge connecting technique. You know, I could have gotten shot a long time ago-"

"That's not even funny," Peeta chides and there's nothing humorous in his voice now.

I shut up instantly, feeling the mood of the room drop. Even Haymitch falls silent and adverts his eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry," I finally whisper and I don't know who I'm apologizing to, Peeta or Prim. I'm know I'm not saying sorry to Haymitch, who is still lolled in his chair across the room. Although maybe I should, since he was undoubtedly as scared as the rest of my family. Not that he'd ever admit that to me.

Peeta shakes his head and his expression softens. Leaning in closer, he gently brushes his lips to my cheek, very lightly and very chaste, considering Prim's proximity.

"Just don't lie to us again," Prim pleads, taking my other hand firmly. "No matter how much you want to protect us."

I nod obligingly, maybe more to relieve my guilt than anything else but I do actually mean my promise. "Okay," I swear.

Peeta pushes back my hair soothingly before running the back of his hand over my cheek. "Okay," he finally repeats, only loud enough for me to hear.

And I know then that he's forgiven me.

///

Within an hour, my mom, Gale, Boggs, Plutarch and my doctor all join the party inside my hospital room.

"Isn't there a limited amount of people allowed in one room?" Haymitch retorts gruffly, unhappy about being squished into the corner and unable to spread out the way he was before.

"Oh there usually is," Plutarch confirms, his tone more joyful than I find appropriate, given my situation. And the state of the rebels now. "But I asked Coin to make an exception for Katniss."

"Can Coin make an exception and give Katniss a bigger room?" Gale mumbles under his breath.

I laugh at his sarcasm and his disgruntled expression. We'd made amends on the way to District Two, not wanting to be in potentially dangerous territories and still on the outs with each other. I expected the issues that made us clash—and whatever feelings that still lied between us—would all come to a head once we returned to Thirteen, but we unexpectedly took longer than anticipated in Two and now I was wounded. And even Gale can't deny he was scared out of his mind when I went down. Even he isn't in the mindset to wrangle with me.

I squeeze Peeta's hand in my own and pretend I don't see Gale's envious eyes staring at our interconnected limbs. I don't feel the same guilt I usually do when it was apparent Gale was upset by me and Peeta, and I wonder, idly, in the back of my mind, if this isn't because of the morphling I'm pumped full of.

My doctor is one of the same people who checked Peeta out after he was rescued and I realize I don't even know his name. It doesn't seem like I'll learn it now either, as he barely speaks. I'm half inclined—though I know it's impossible—to think my own mother is the one who operated on me, from the lack of insight the man provides.

In any case, the doctor doesn't seem concerned in the slightest about me and slips out of the room as soon as Plutarch shifts the conversation in a new direction.

"So, I was wondering," he starts, his face still much too happy to completely sit right with me. "Maybe if you'd be up—once you're out of bed and recovered, of course—to film a propo?"

I just stare at him blankly, wondering how on Earth he expected me to have any desire to film anything right now, while I'm still currently getting pain relievers pumped into my veins.

He misreads my expression and quickly adds, "Of course Peeta would be in it! The Star-Cross Lovers need to be shown reunited. I feel that could help with the cause immensely—"

He keeps talking but I automatically tune out his chirping voice as he prattles on. I can see his vision now. The Mockingjay Lives splayed across the screen, me and Peeta wrapped in an embrace, my voice loud and strong, announcing that we're going to keep fighting to the end.

I'm not the only one looking at Platurch like he's grown a second head. The only person who's not looking at the man with distain or disbelief is Haymitch, who's expression is either mildly entertained or filled with such incredulity that he looks like he's grinning.

Peeta's reaction is much stronger than I expect and it's only after he looks like he's grown nauseous from disgust or is planning on throwing something at Plutarch's joyous face, that I realize Peeta has no real experience with the Gamemaker.

He was in the Capitol the entire time I've really gotten to know Plutarch and the man's antics must seem completely foreign to Peeta.

I squeeze his hand before he can say anything and shake my head in Plutarch's general direction. He isn't harmful and I don't want Peeta to waste the energy he needs to recover.

But he has trouble swallowing down his obvious repulsion and his hands begin to shake and his eyes are far angrier than I would have expected in these circumstances a few months ago.

It's my mom who is murmuring about Peeta needing to check in with his doctors and how she'll walk him down there and she waits expectantly for him to get up and part of me faintly envies him for some reason. And I realize quickly that it's the way she talks to him—it's the way she speaks to all patients of her's, really. It's a firm tone, that's still kind but is very direct. Maybe a little authoritative and unyielding. And I realize at once it's a tone I almost never heard again after my dad's death and I took over caring for the family.

And I miss it. Despite everything. Despite my lack of trust in her and my fear she'll retreat back into her shell one day and leave me and Prim behind all over again. Despite my instincts to never put my faith in my mother again, a big part of me still misses the days when she parented me.

Peeta sighs, seeing through the ruse, and kisses my nose before heading out the door behind my mother.

Plutarch follows too, blatantly unaware of what he set into motion, and saying he was needs to review the film of the other Victors for their propos. I'm still appalled he wanted to parade me out while I'm lying in a hospital bed, but I do feel a bit more at ease knowing it's not just me and Peeta he wants to exploit for the sake of the rebellion.

I wished to myself I could actually go to where the fight was. That I could actually have a shot of getting close enough to really be involved in taking down Snow and his supporters, rather than being filmed as a icon to motivate other people to fight in this war.

I kept this to myself, as my even being in this bed was proof of what happened when I was a more central part of the fighting. And even then, I somehow managed to get shot while they were essentially using me as a talking piece for the other soldiers.

But there was something else on my mind and I turned to focus onto Gale now. Only he, Prim and Haymitch remained in my room and Prim was telling my old mentor about the medical uses of alcohol. I don't know what she planned on accomplishing with that, but it worked as a diversion for me at the moment.

"Okay, so what happened?" I press Gale in a hushed voice when I know Prim isn't listening. He gives me a quizzical look and I quickly clarify. "With Peeta and my mom and Prim?"

Comprehension fills his eyes and he sighs before continuing. "I wasn't there for the beginning. Obviously. I was with you in District Two. But I know that he was watching TV when you were shot, and he completely lost it. Apparently it triggered some kind of flashback to something they used to do to him in the Capitol. He was still yelling when we arrived back. I heard it when I passed his room while you were in surgery. Whatever Snow did to him-"

He's promptly cut off by a new but familiar voice joining the room now. "Ah, yes," Johanna Mason shoves back the curtain separating my cubicle from the one next door. Her's, I guess. "Fond memories you mention, Handsome." She winks at Gale. "One of Snow's favorite methods of torture. The old 'make Peeta watch a thousand fabricated video simulations of Katniss being brutally murdered, on repeat. Don't let him sleep. Beat him. Water him down and beat him some more. Make him watch the Katniss Dying Simmulations again', until he can't even tell you what's real and what's not."

I just stare at her, my heart sinking in my chest rapidly. "What?" Is all I can manage to say, my mouth drying up fast.

"I mean, there were worse forms of torture Snow and his men liked to use on me and your fiancé, but I was told you needed to be kept in the dark about those," she state cheekily, obviously trying to goad me.

"Who told you to keep me in the dark?" I snap, my eyes shooting between Prim, who's now looking right at me, and Gale.

Johanna, much to my surprise, points to Haymitch. The older man is still laid out in a chair in the corner of the room, having made himself comfortable again, but at least now has the decency to look sheepish.

"Listen, Sweetheart," he immediately defends. "You and the boy have your own separate issues, alright? You both don't need to take on the other's all the dang time."

"Haymitch-" I start to growl but am caught off guard by a completely unexpected noise. Johanna's hysterical, dark, morbid laughter.

"I can't believe you were rescued and I was tortured, and I'm expected to protect you from the truth."

I don't blame her. No one could honestly. She was tortured because of me and the rebels. She could say and do whatever she wanted at this point, and no one had the right to tell her differently.

"Johanna," I start but let her cut me off once again, becoming accustomed to the feeling.

"And don't worry about Peeta," she says but the resentful shake of her head doesn't fill me with hope. "Your mom made him her project once they informed her your suit was bulletproof. Her and your sister basically walked him off the ledge."

And because I know she's the only person who will be completely uncensored—something I can't even say about Haymitch these days—I blurt out my next question. "What was Peeta saying? When he lost it?"

Her response is immediate and I get the impression she enjoys telling me, for some sick reason.

"Give me back to the Capitol. They'll find a way to revive her if you give me back. I want to go back. I'll trade my life for her's. Please, let me go back."

As soon as the words sunk into my brain, I wanted to puke.

So I did.

////

Johanna wasn't happy about my vomiting a literal foot away from her and she was downright livid when no one else appeared to be irritated with me but she reached a breaking point when both Peeta—who returned upon hearing my loud gagging—and Gale comforted me.

It was an odd sensation to be in not just conversation with both Peeta and Gale but to have them both be so sweet to me, at the same exact time. Without even so much as looking crossly towards the other one.

Gale held my hand and told me to calm down in a gentle voice he only ordinarily used for one of our sisters or his mom. Peeta was sitting opposite him, on the edge of my bed and telling me softly to just relax as he stroked my hair tenderly. Even Haymitch had gotten out of his seat to call an attendant to clean up my vomit and Prim and my mom were standing at the end of my bed, looking worriedly onto the scene.

Johanna's voice was biting as she took us all in. "How much hand holding does she need? Considering she was apparently strong enough to be the face of our entire cause."

"I shouldn't be," I instantly agree with her. "You should be. No one has to push you or tell you what to say."

"No one likes me, brainless," she says snidely, a leering smile spreading across her face.

"That's because everyone's afraid of you," Prim chimes in timidly, and I drop Gale's hand to reach for my little sister's, almost on instinct upon hearing her scared voice.

But Johanna has the decency to not swipe at Prim and instead gives her a sympathetic look. As if to say you don't have to be scared of me.

Her compassion evidently only extends to the thirteen-year-old, as when Finnick and Annie join the room right on the heels of Prim's words, Johanna barks out a cruel laugh. "Really? More people? Are we having a party to celebrate Katniss?" She gives everyone a mocking look around the room. "Well, I wish someone would have told me. I forgot to bring my streamers."

For some reason her tone suddenly forces back a memory of the last night in the arena. Her cutting my arm open and my red, hot, sticky blood gushing everywhere. My understanding at the time being that this was an attempt to kill me. I know now that this was the rebels' plan and she was really cutting out my tracker but the sense memory can't be so easily rationalized away.

I flinch outwardly and both Gale and Prim's faces silently ask if I'm alright. But I'm quickly distracted elsewhere.

I'm, once again, wholly surprised by Peeta's reaction.

"Don't you have anything else to do, Johanna, besides bug Katniss?" There's a strong irritability in his voice, one I'd only heard from an outsider prospective in the past. On the off occasion I'd witnessed he and his brothers in any sort of conversation. Their relationship was tense at times but they were still siblings and extremely close in age. That made for a lot of squabbling and a lot of fighting and a lot of sparring with each other. And a lot of aggravating each other, causing Peeta to behave in a way I'd never seen him otherwise.

"I don't know?" She shoots back, not even missing a beat. "Didn't I have better things to do than cuddle you after Snow's guards were done for the day? And yet, who's shoulder did you cry on? Who held your hand through our adjoining cells?" She smirks and it's obvious she's speaking for the rest of us to hear.

Annie makes an animalistic squeak and covers her ears. Finnick quickly wraps an arm around her and shoots a glare at Johanna.

"What?" She snaps. "Annie was there in the Capitol, Finnick. She know what went down."

"Doesn't mean you have to remind her of it," I state, my voice grave as I watch the mad girl Finnick loves more than life itself retreat into her own psyche.

And for some odd reason, I relate. To both Finnick, who's doing everything he can now to bring her back from the dark depths of her own mind, and Annie herself, who is buried beneath the ruins of a trauma she'll never be able to escape and is visibly struggling to dig her way back out.

I look to Peeta then, almost imperceptibly, and he just gives me a knowing, almost satirical glance. He was undoubtably thinking the same thing.

Johanna is ready to spit in my face, and she probably would, no doubt, if it were just the two of us. "You have no idea what went down after we were captured," she seethes, growing closer to me, and Peeta places an arm in front of her, blocking me from her reach, but I note the gesture isn't rough or hostile.

Gale and my mom both look like they're going to intervene. Finnick is busy with Annie now. Prim looks shell shocked and Haymitch seems to have lost interest in watching us.

For some reason, maybe it's the morphling, maybe I just feel safe surrounded by so many people who would stop her if she lunged for my throat, but I decide to reply. "Is that why you hate me so much?"

Her violent demeanor dissipates but she still has a spiteful glint in her gaze. "That's part of it. And partially because everyone is so obsessed with you. I've never seen anything about you that's so good or special."

"I agree with you about that," I say quietly, knowing it'll do nothing to mend fences with her.

Haymitch, who out of everyone I thought would agree as well, is the one who speaks up. "There's plenty good in that girl," he retorts sharply, his grey eyes hard as he stares at Johanna.

That caught me—and Peeta, by the look on his face—more off guard than anything Johanna had said thus far.

But it's Johanna's words, which aren't even directed at me, that send a chill to my spine. "Careful, Haymitch. Remember, I'm the one who's always there for the victor you constantly forget about. Or was that you who held his hand while the doctors and Mrs. Everdeen had him strapped down for two days?"

Gale is the one who responds, much to my surprise. "Okay, stop. I know you've been through—"

"Handsome," she cuts off, her voice clipped and snarky but she still bats her lashes in his direction. "You don't know anything."

"Johanna, please," Peeta murmurs now, his tone softer and a lot more understanding. "Please go back to your cubicle. I'll tell the doctors you're complaining of massive pain and need more morphling."

She stares at Peeta, her eyes softening the same way they did for Prim only minutes before. Finally she says, "it's the least you can do. Considering you wouldn't share your fiancé's with me."

And, as soon as she appeared, she had evaporated behind the curtain.

And I feel like somehow, I'm the only person who is left reeling in her absence.

/////

My mom was called back to work once again—and this time, she was made to stay there, my condition apparently too stabilized for them to be letting one of their better healers cut back on her hours—and she took Prim with her. I don't know if it was because Prim would be of use or if she just thought I needed alone time without worrying about my sister overhearing too much.

It occurs to me how much my mom is trying now to wordlessly look out for my needs. I decide to make a point in finding a way to say thank you to her. Even if our relationship will never be what it could have been, had there never been corruption or games or mine explosions. Had there been proper help to those suffering and in need.

Finnick chats with me and Peeta for a moment—and entirely ignores Gale but I suspect that's less about being intentionally rude and more about never knowing what to do with my best friend slash fake cousin—before escorting Annie away. She still looks shaken up and I wonder what happened to her in the Capitol. Or if she was already this unstable. I scarcely remember anything about her or her games, prior to what Peeta reminded me of in the Quell.

"You look tired," Peeta notes, brushing my hair back from my forehead. I smile lightly, about to kiss the palm of his hand before noticing Gale's eyes. They are quite apparently envious of Peeta's affection towards me and my acceptance of it, of how naturally Peeta can touch me, of the innate intimacy between the two of us that I never shared with him. But he tries his best to mask it and for that, I feel even worse.

I look to Haymitch without realizing it and somehow the older man understands without me even consciously thinking of asking.

"Boy," Haymitch grunts, putting on a good show as he stands up. "Let's go get some real food from the cafeteria. I hear if we say we'll participate in Plutarch's Propos, we can get better grub than the rest of Thirteen."

Peeta nods, his eyes gently running over my face, as if memorizing it in his mind. "Will you be okay-"

"Okay, Johanna was right," Haymitch barks now, grabbing Peeta by the back of the shirt, his grip much too docile to pass as normal though. "She'll be fine. Let's all stop hovering. She'll be up and tormenting us in a day."

I roll my eyes at his antics but smile meagerly at him as he guides Peeta out the door.

"Well," Gale breathes out as they leave. "That was subtle."

I laugh loud enough that I hear Johanna hiss from the cubicle next door. "I wanted to talk to you privately."

Gale chuckles. "Gathered that."

I know I have a limited time before Peeta returns and honestly I'm not too mad about that fact either, as I somehow, chessily, long for him now whenever he's gone. I inwardly cringe at myself before shaking it off to hurry this conversation along. "I wanted to apologize for me and Peeta. For how we can act. For..." I trail off, realizing too late I didn't pre-plan my words.

Peeta was right when he'd spat at Haymitch on the Victory Tour, "we all know I'm better on camera than Katniss. No one has to coach me on what to say."

I wished for his ease and talent with words now as I fumble around, trying to convey my message to the person who's been my best friend for years now.

He understands though—thankfully—and needs no more explanation. His tone has become solemn when he speaks. "You're really not faking it anymore, are you? Being in love with him?" His eyes are full of pain and he quickly downcasts them. "You fell in love with him in the Quarter Quell," he says as a fact, not a question.

"I don't know, Gale!" I exclaim, quick to defend myself here, like I'm being accused of something horrific. In truth, I feel like I am. I feel like I am, when I see how much it hurts him when me and Peeta are together. "I don't know how I feel. I just know I feel a lot for both of you."

"That's not good enough, Catnip," Gale whispers, shaking his head. But he uses my old nickname and that gives me hope. Hope that he won't hate me for not being able to give him what he wishes. Hope that I won't lose him entirely by the end of this war. "You really do need him."

I open my mouth to say something, anything, to try and rectify this. But I can't because it's true. Those are my words he's repeating back to me and they completely true. I do need Peeta. Maybe in a way I'll never need Gale. I don't know. I can't know. Not with all that rests on my shoulders already.

"What if I made you choose?" Gale presses now, leaning in closer. "What if I begged and pled and promised I'd find a way to make you happy? Would you pick me then?"

My mouth still hangs open, unsure what to say that get me out of this. I look towards the door, wishing Haymitch would reappear, that Peeta would burst through with his loud footfalls, that Johanna would pop back in and rub some salt in everyone's wounds.

All that would be preferable to this right now and I wonder why I ever wanted Haymitch to take Peeta away.

Gale shakes his head now though, having recieved his answer. "I thought so."

"Gale-" I start, not knowing where I was planning on taking the exchange but before I can even make a redundant attempt to mend whatever broke between me and him a long time ago, he's leaning in and his lips are pressing to mine and after half a second of shock, I'm giving in.

After everything I'd denied him, after all that he'd done for me and for my family, after how much he'd been there for me while Peeta was in the Capitol, I let myself give in and kiss him back.

His lips are different from Peeta's and I can't figure out how I feel about them. He's always been more grown, appearance wise, than Peeta and me, who both still could pass for years younger in the right clothing. But even his kissing is reeks of more experience, more practice, and somehow I find myself learning as his mouth shift under mine, as both his lips suck on my bottom lip expertly.

But it's lacking something and it's only then I realize, what I'm searching for inside Gale's mouth, is the spark that only Peeta's ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn't manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn't be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale's demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I'm not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I'm hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale's face isn't even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

#everlark #thg #everlark fanfic #everlark fanfiction #the hunger games #Katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #au #mockingjay #mockingjay au #canon divergence #shatteredpearl #my writing #100

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highsviolets · 5 years ago

Text

give me love (i’ll put my heart in it)

summary: you think about your relationship with Ben, musing on endings and beginnings. set in between ‘complications of time’ and ‘gingerbread cigarettes.’

pairing: lifeguard!Ben x reader

warnings: angst-ish? I guess? Nothing crazy. Some language.

links: prev / next / series masterlist / full masterlist

a/n: yes hello hi I still write for Obi-Wan! Thanks to Brit, who encouraged me to post this, as well as being the fearless champion of this series. If you wanna, listen to this while reading.

give me love (i’ll put my heart in it)

The cigarette isn’t working like it’s supposed to. There’s no burn, no squeezing in your lungs. Smoke that’s exhaled in a practiced breath lingers. Reluctant. It doesn’t want to dissipate — building blocks of nothingness can’t dissolve into their own substance, after all. Or can they? Maybe they’re just waiting for permission((letting go)).

It doesn’t matter anyway. A rock is your path, and you kick it, and you watch it travel down the sidewalk. Does it know? Does it know that its existence was a hindrance to yours?

Marlboros feel different without him around. When you haven’t stolen it from his backpack, or pocket, or right out of his hand. It doesn’t taste like heady spice, tingling tobacco. There’s an anguishing aftertaste in it wake, all metallic and slippery and….fucking hell, what’s the word? Where you miss the way things were before? Reminiscence? Nostalgia?

Ben would know. He’s good with words. The inhale is sharp, this time. From the death stick or the thought of him, you can’t say. Probably him, you decide, and pull the flannel tighter around you with your hand. He has always drawn you closer that you already were.

Ben is good with words, and he is good with cigarettes. Somehow the two things mold together, pressing and pulling: a play-doh question of eternal causality. Which came first, the cigarettes or the words? It sure as hell wasn’t you; he was already everything he is when he dragged you from crushing currents and brought you back to solid land. and you had lit his cigarette and worn his t-shirt and kissed him against the metal of his car, so hot it was cold, so hot you didn’t feel him save you from drowning just to set fire to your eyes. so hot you forgot the sensation of suffocation, his life squeezing yours in a box, a box shaped like the narrow white-and-red packs in back pocket and the metamorphosing of his books and the lewd lines in his sketches of aromatic deep blue futures ((those too that he would construct on your body, all arches and gilded strokes)). Hands are Ben’s forte: his weapon of choice. It is how he constructs you, brick by brick, and how he punches you apart, snippets and cuts and incisions through rips in paper and bleeding ink and scabs made from ashes.

He’s here and not here, as he always is. But nothing works even when it’s all the same. Ben will always linger, in crevices in dark armor that you carry shrouded and half-discarded, limp from a weary frame. And he will be there too, in drizzles of gold and honey sunlight. Perhaps you will never be able to smoke a fucking cigarette again((you won’t be able to stop))

Christ, it’s been a while, you had thought when he offered you one for the first time. Funny. That was the last time he had asked. Each ensuing occasion had been a woven branch of phone lines and psychosomatic communications, almost inebriated in their understanding of you and him. you&him drunk, drunk and drowning, hapless as he crashed into you without permission because he didn’t need to. When you had said yes to his cigarette you had said yes to him, and when you said yes to his question on Fukuyama you had assented to his words.

You feel out of place here: disjointed and rheumatic moans echo in your ear while you traverse pavement.This is his turf, and fall suits him better than it suits you. His hair matches the leaves, and his turtlenecks accentuate his cheekbones. He says he likes your flannel (you would, you told him, leaning into the heavy palm caressing your cheek, you picked it out.) But fall is far too esoteric for your liking, too erudite, too intellectual, too restrained. It is everything Ben is and everything you are not. And somehow he is summer too, drowsy and vibrant orange, and fucking hell if he isn’t winter and spring too.

Ben is entirely too alive for his own good — whole fragments — stitching — beloved, licentious breath.

And too pretty at that, you think, catching sight of sky through liquid smothered eyelashes that approach eroticism in their melancholy. You’re not like the girls he knows here. They’re posh and come from towns that aren’t like yours. Like yours and Ben’s. Their penmanship is precise and they have unsaddled accents and when he converses with them he never has to explain himself the way he does with you, tripping and fumbling with words and lighters and dousing the two of you gasoline just so you can see the patterns with which you’ll burn; damn it all if he never has to stop to tell them about a book because they’ve already internalized the moral principles of righteous words, and Christ you just can’t fucking compete with them, with these girls who adorn their words in painted lips.

Your mind has done what it’s been trained to do, exercising agency when you most seek comfort. Lattices of neurons have listened to what you want, twisted electrons pathways and energy levels shattering any semblance of a resting state. There is no rest, not with him and not without him, either. Ben is fast and slow; he is glacial, earthquaking movements. You do not realize you are moving — until you strain for the horizon and discover that it is no longer there.

He is outside, smoking. Corduroy meets brick at the upper reaches of his shoulders, stiff and formal, where his hair would be if he hadn’t cut it just a few weeks back. You wonder if he is really the one that is breaking you; perhaps you’re the one that’s casting him off-balance. Wet — Hot — Car — Skateboard — Library — Braids — Hands — Jackets — it’s always you going into him, so how is it that he has entered into you. maybe there’s a reason you failed biology after all. you could never see things as they really were. before lingers; there will never be an after, not for him((not for him with you)).

what’s wrong, baby, he says and the cigarette falls from his lips but not his hand, not the one that’s taking your arm so you face him head on((you’ve never been able to do that, maybe it’s time you start, maybe it’s time you finally start acting like him, and those girls with painted hands)).

you want to say something witty, something that doesn’t just cut but leaves an open wound. a phrase that will make him hurt in all the same places you do. a clump of letters that will make him understand. that’s what Ben always wants, isn’t it? To understand? you thought the phrase had been soft green and vibrant purple. now it’s a double entendre, or maybe a pun, all dual definitions of sneers and hypocrisy. Ben would know, of course. He’s good with words.

time stretches. temporality feel different as he stands, now upright. waiting. he’s waiting. waiting and yet still moving. blue eyes pluck at your tearstained cheeks((sifting through realities)).

the world needs to stop screaming, to stop screaming and let you think for once, no, you are tired of thinking, you are not like him, you are raw and uncensored gushes of emotion((exuberant hiding)).

Ben tilts your chin, thumb veering up your jaw. the pattern of his fingerprint — all coiled, swaying swirls — imbalance of charges — soft stings to jolt you awake. his touch is so familiar: wrapped in hundreds of occasions past. you relive them all in an instant, from the first to this last ((there is no after)).

but these are shadow-truths, ones you read in the way his hands grip your back and fall back to his sides((limplanguidlazy)) and you want to kiss him, kiss him one more time with eyes wide open. so you can watch him slip away, and slip away with you watching, you think. it’s a lie((Ben told you truth is a certain point view))

ben does not kiss you, but apologizes instead. blue eyes never lose your face and the meanings pressing against your skin feel sticky, over enunciated and slurred at the same time. he is right, but you cannot help but thinking that it is because he has made it so. he has achieved his greatest goal: ben now lives in a reality of his own creating. one fabricated with shards of bloody glass and violet scrunchies ghosting along the fringes of notebooks. most of all it is created with his words. because ben is good with words.

you smile and nod because it what you do, that is what you always do when the world((him)) crashes at your feet. and you walk away. it is really you that have been left, and him who has succeeded in the undoing. but it is all words, words and shadow-truths and half-hearted grasping at living((maybe he will realize how loud it is without him to tame the wind that’s rushing in your ears))

obi tags: @ohhellokenobi @profkenobi @goldenkenobi @rentskenobi @nobie @roseofalderaan @mcu-padawan @anakin-danvers @obitwo @obirain @justrunamok @catsnkooks @answer-the-sirens @lussyyung @cherrykenobi @royalhandmaidens @snips-n-skyguy0501 @kyjoraven @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @ina-lotta @inukako @i-am-i-am-obiwankenobi @princessxkenobi @wille-zarr @badedum-badaboom

#obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi wan x reader insert #obi wan kenobi x reader insert #star wars fanfiction #90s au #fic: breathless #ewan mcregor #cristina writes #feel free to send any typos my way #i know they exist lmao #userkarina #usernobie #shadesofstarwars

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hieludoboi · 5 years ago

Note

Great to see a new bnha blog around with such great writing around! I hope it’s not too many to ask for, but could you do some fluff headcanons with Kirishima, Kaminari, Tododoki and Midoriya?

Hello! I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the few works I’ve put out so far! I’d be glad to do some headcannons over my favorite bois 🥺 I hope y’all enjoy these fluffy headcannons

Edit- All of them literally deleted and now I wanna delete myself 😔 time to write up a whole other batch of hcs 😔

A/n- I’m sorry if these aren’t that good I’ve been stressing over auditions and camps and ughh but I really hope you enjoy at least a few of these!

A/n- I’m sorry these took so long! ms rona made it so i had to work for a little bit, I wanted to get some bread before shit got really bad! I’m back for real now! Hopefully :(

- Hieludo 🤟🏽😔🤟🏽

———————————————————————

Kirishima

Oh boy

You really blessed yourself with this one

Even though ole boy is a baby shark, he’s really just a giant teddy bear

Kiri is the definition of husband material

He absolutely adores being affectionate with you and just showing you off

Respectfully of course

He sits with you at lunch and will look at you with the most intent gaze while you talk to him about literally anything

In class he sits next to you so he can tell you little jokes every now and then or just help you out with anything and everything

When it comes to pda, he’s comfortable with what makes you comfortable

If you want him to hold your hand while you two walk, he will gladly hold your hand

If you want little pecks, he will gladly pepper your face with them

He’s up for anything if you’re comfortable with it

He might hold back a bit in public for you, but you best believe he will smother you back in the privacy of your dorms

His favorite thing to do after finishing up some homework, is cuddling

He’s cool with any position, but his favorite by far is when you wrap yourself around him from his side

He can feel your head beneath his chin, smell your soft scent

He loves it when you rest your head on his chest and rest one hand on his stomach

It makes him feel like he’s keeping you safe

And at the end of the day, that’s all Kiri wants to do

Kaminari

I feel like Denki loves to cuddle

He likes holding you close (Or being held close to you) while scrolling through tiktok

If he’s the little spoon, you best believe he’s gonna turn around and just squish his face into your chest for some extra warmth

Definitely a goofy partner

Your dates consist of him inviting you over to his dorm or to the lounging area to try different tiktoks or trends

One time he went to your house to try some tiktok trends and you ended up cooking

He burnt your mother’s ridiculously expensive princess house pan

You both left the house and never came back...

He isn’t too clingy, but when he isn’t with you he’ll send you any and all memes or tiktoks that remind him of you

He taught you how to do the savage dance

Now you can’t stop doing it

And he wonders if that’s how you view him sometimes

When it comes to arguments, he isn’t the greatest

It takes him awhile to figure out that you aren’t exactly happy with him

And when he finally does he tries to fix it the only way Denki knows best...

Lots of wholesome memes

Lots of tiktoks

Lots of voice messages

And when all else fails

He’ll try and jump on you to try and get a giggle or two out of you

But spontaneous actions and memes can’t solve arguments

Which is why he bought you a tortoise after your first big fight

A tortoise because he couldn’t tell the difference between tortoises and turtles

And because he wasn’t sure if you were allergic to fluffy pets or birds

Also assumed you didn’t like lizards, snakes, or spiders

It takes him a while, but he will try and talk with you through problems you guys are facing in the relationship

He doesn’t do good with serious topics or conversations though

But for you he’ll sit down, shut up, and listen well as you vent to him or cry to him about literally almost anything

Bonus tortoise snippets!

“Okay, but what if we paint his shell like a koopa troopa!”

“You’re not going to disfigure Torta, Denki!”

“I can’t believe you bought me a tortoise! He’s gonna outlive me and spend the rest of his time alone with no tortoise or people friends! :’(”

“Poor Koopa Troopa...”

“I think Koopa wants to go for a swim!”

“Torta can’t swim idiot! He’ll drown! And stop calling my son Koopa!!!”

“He’s my son too >:|”

Todoroki

You had met Shouto when you were little

After spending your entire childhoods together, you two become somewhat close

Shouto isn’t really big on affection

He doesn’t know how to reciprocate or receive affection

So he decides to ask you how one knows when they are in love with someone

You spent months plotting with Shouto so he could tell this person

You, you were that person

He doesn’t know how to feel about pda

It confuses him

So when you hold his hand or hug him in public he’ll just stand stiff and awkward or give you a pat to the back

He knows how frustrating it can get, so he’s grateful that you have so much patience with him

This makes it all worth it when he hugs you

His hold isn’t too tight or too loose

You aren’t suffocating but he isn’t letting you go

While his palms hold you back steady, he leans a bit forward

You can hear him sigh in relief when you wrap your arms around his torso and press your face into the crook of his neck

When he pulls back, he hold your hands loosely, smiling ever so gently at you

It’s moments like that that make it all worth it for you

Or when he kissed you for the first time

It was while he was helping you study for an exam

You were nose deep in a text book while he was helping you finish writing some flashcards

He can’t help but gaze

The way you scrunch your nose and huff while going through the same passage

The way your eyebrows furrow when you read a particularly ridiculous fact

He loves it all

You look up and give him a quick smile, ready to go back to the same sections for the trillionth time

“Is it okay for me to kiss you?”

Some may say this would ruin the moment

But Shouto is alllll about consent

He refuses to do things to you that you wouldn’t want

And that’s REAL king shit right there!

All it takes is a nod and a smile for Shouto to shakily lean in

It’s nothing special

Just a quick peck to the lips

Barely there and lingering

And though to others it could mean nothing

To you, it means the world

Midoriya

This boy

He adores you!

He’ll do anything for you

And protect you at all costs

Totally brags about you to Mirio and All Might

When Eri asks about you, he gets flustered

He’s not huge into pda, but he loves to hold your hand

Anywhere

He adores you and is proud to be with someone like you

But let Mina or Denki point it out and he’ll go bright red

His mom loves you

Hasn’t met you, but she loves you

When it comes to cuddling, he prefers when you lay your body across his with your head on his chest

He’ll massage your scalp for a bit until you doze off before knocking out himself

He’ll kiss you on your cheek, but no place else

He’s proud to be with you, but he’s still a shy guy

Likes going on dates, but prefers you do the planning

The last date he planned didn’t go all too well...

“An All Might themed cafe! How... romantic?”

“Really!? You actually like it?”

“I love it! Now lets get to that booth before someone else can take it!”

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sp00kymulderr · 5 years ago

Text

My Soul in the Stars (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Warnings: Post-TROS so I guess spoilers.

Word Count: 1,656

A/N: I have written a thing! It’s been a long while and I’m rusty AF and it’s possibly awful, but here’s a cute fluffy lil snippet of not-quite-unrequited love and feelings-y stuff. Enjoy, let me know if you’d read more cause uhhh I kinda wanna write a lot of Poe these days.

-----

When victory is declared, Ajan Kloss is a true centre of joy. There’s a deep sadness that won’t be shaken for a while, for the ones lost along the way, but everyone here and gone helped to defeat a regime of hate and destruction and that is something that deserves a genuine celebration.

The revelry goes on for hours and hours, until late into the night. Friends and lovers who thought they’d never see each other again reunite and it’s the purest form of beauty. Wherever you look there are smiles and tears and people full of realised hope. And somehow everywhere you look, there he is. You don’t mean to stare, but Poe Dameron has always had a way of capturing your attention and now to see him so proud and happy - you can’t help but watch him from where you sit .

He notices you and smiles from across the way, and you fluster feeling the spreading blush hot on your cheeks. You can’t help but think how stupid this is, the effect he has on you – he is incredible but you’ve been something like friends since the days when he was simply the best pilot in the galaxy. You’ve wanted to be more than that for the same amount of time, but you’re no fool to think that would ever be an option with someone whose whole being has been dedicated to this cause. He’s always been good to you, a friend and confidant you knew you could trust, but he’d never sought out anything more so neither had you.

Poe is kept busy most of the night; you see him and Finn every now and then surrounded by friends and deep in conversation. You’re surprised then, late into the night when people are finally retiring to their quarters, when you feel someone sit down next to you at the fireside and turn to see him.

“General” you greet him, with a grin. He nods his head and bumps shoulders with you. Suddenly you feel warm despite the breeze.

“Want some?” He asks with a kind smile, holding up a bottle of something potent, some kind of brandy. Good thing he’s always been able to hold his liquor. You shake your head, watching as he takes a swig from the bottle. Pondering him for a moment you try to subtly take in his handsome profile, his breathtaking features – wanting to etch them in to your memory. He stares back at you after a minute.

“It’s been a while” he points out, somewhat apologetically. He’s not wrong, you’ve barely seen him since Crait. “How are you feeling?” Poe asks now, talking about the visible scrapes on you from the battle. You’d been on the ground team, doing what you could to help the fighters in the sky. To help him.

“I missed you” you say simply, and then “We won”. You haven’t fully processed it yet. But then who has?

He’s smiling, nodding with a laugh, but you can tell there’s more on his mind than just the victory. He wants someone to talk to, and as long as you’ve known each other you’ve been that someone.

So for what feels like hours that’s exactly what you do—you talk about the battle and about your lives. About fear and trust, life and death. He admits things to you that he hasn’t told any of the others. Everything that comes to mind. It feels so good to be talking so freely to someone who makes you want to open up and you can tell that he feels the same. It feels so right, does he feel that too?

After a while, you come to a natural silence – it’s comfortable and calm as you both stare out to the distance. Listening to the cheers and chatter of those still awake. You’ve edged closer together, and all you want to do in this moment is kiss him and tell him how much you needed him with you like this. Instead you stay quiet, accepting the drink when he offers it to you again.

“What do we do now?”

You finally break the contented silence, a melancholy whisper to the stars. Poe isn’t sure if you’re asking him or them, if you’re even aware he’s there in that moment, so instead of answering you he simply takes your hand in his. Your skin is so soft against his, his touch more gentle than you could have ever imagined.

You sigh and he doesn’t miss the small smile tugging at your lips at the unexpected but welcome contact. You both say silent, hands touching for a while longer before you speak again. You pray that he doesn’t pick up on your suddenly quickened heartbeat.

“Do you ever think about going home, Poe?”

Poe doesn’t answer, but you can feel the mood shifting. He doesn’t talk about home, not often. You know about his parents, but not much else. He shifts slightly, turning his head to the side and hiding his expression.

“Sorry, you don’t-” you start, feeling like you shouldn’t have asked but he shakes his head and starts to speak.

“I think about it, sure, all the time. But everything’s changed” he shrugs “Going back now would be different. Bittersweet but...” his low, tired voice fades and you don’t push him to finish his thoughts. Of course you understand, everyone whose been through this would. The fight took so much from everyone and so many people here have little to return to.

You’re ready to make a new life, start from scratch with the building blocks of what’s been left behind. A braver version of you, the one who didn’t fear the certain rejection, would ask him to come with you. But in your heart you can already tell that Poe isn’t done here yet, he may never be.

He takes another swig of the drink and lets out a long breath.

“The war might be won, but the fight isn’t over yet. There are people out there – people that need our help. There are cities to be rebuilt, lost to be found, prisoners to free. The Resistance isn’t going to end tomorrow, and I’m not finished yet” His face in the moonlight is full of purpose, fiery determination in his tired eyes. “I can’t rest until I know things have been put right. For Leia, for everyone” he’s quiet, a passing whisper of his intent.

You turn to him. This passion, this unshakeable instinct to put others first is part of the reason you care so much about him, but it could also be his downfall. You can see him burning out, letting the storm in his restless soul rage for too long. You’re scared for him and you want to be there to help him through it, soothe him and calm him. How do you tell him that?

“You have to exist beyond this. I know you’ll never just stop fighting but-” you start but you’re barely sure where your words are taking you “It’s so selfish of me...Poe-”

“Yes?” He whispers, so close to you now, speaking your name in to the dark.

“I’m- kriff, I have to say it, I’m in love with you. And I don’t want to miss you again. I’m not telling you to retire from the Resistance and spend your days at home, but I wish you’d take some time to just be. With me” you let it out, finally freeing your heart. It takes you by surprise.

He turns to you, wide eyed in some sort of shock for a minute and he doesn’t say a thing.

You’ve ruined it now.

“Ok” it’s barely even spoken but you ear and and then his finger are on your chin tilting your head towards his. His murmurs your name and you close your eyes, because it feels right, and within seconds you feels his lips meet yours and you’re kissing.

Poe Dameron is kissing you.

You wonder for a moment if you’re in the afterlife because this can’t be real. But it is, it is because somewhere behind you there’s a cheer. There’s the beep of droids, and the soft breeze through the trees. There’s his fingers intertwined with yours and the scent of brandy and smoke around you. His lips, soft and careful, caressing against yours until he pulls away.

“Stars” you exhale, opening your eyes and seeing him beautiful and really smiling back at you with the same dazed, overwhelmed expression.

He ducks his head down bashfully and takes your other hand in his, then says those words that you’d only ever dreamt of.

“I love you, too”

“You do?” you stutter, your heart skipping a beat. He lets out a small laugh and you blush again feeling his fingers now brushing through your hair and coming to rest against your neck.

“Of course I do.” He looks almost offended by the question “I feel like I can breathe when you’re around, I feel the stars and everything in between. You’re my light...my hope. I’m sorry I’ve been gone, it’s my fault that it’s taken us time to get there, but I think we’re meant to be. I’ve known it since the beginning” There’s that same passion in him now, his face telling you he’s fully realising these emotions as he speaks them. You. It’s always been you.

“Me too” you admit, to his unabashed delight “Oh, Poe”

“I never thought this day could bring any more happiness, but here you are”

You laugh with joy and it sounds like a melody to him, beautiful and bright. And then he’s kissing you again, letting that song fill his being and give him strength.

It’s true that he won’t rest until there’s true harmony in the galaxy, but for tonight he can live with knowing there’s finally peace in his heart because he has you by his side.

-----

#Poe Dameron #poe dameron x reader #Poe Dameron x you #Poe Dameron imagine #Oscar Isaac #fluff #Fic #one shot #I tried

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allisonbaelfire · 6 years ago

Text

Sulit (3)

Pairings: Tony Stark!Father x Reader, Morgan Stark!sister x Reader, Peter Parker x Reader

Requested: 1.) @queenylime - Tony’s Daughter!reader who’s from a previous relationship and a member of the Avengers. Just snippets of her through the Film. Like her interacting with Morgan, her reacting to Nat’s death and of course her fathers

Chapter Summary: Time passed and you have been living with your family for a while now. Still, nightmares plagued you, sometimes the lost fight against Thanos and more and more often about how much you missed Peter. Meanwhile, your dad has to decide, does he stay with his family, or does he help the Avengers to bring the people back...

Word Count: 2,420

Authors Note: This is Part Three of Sulit, please read Part One and Part Two first!

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“Y/N, I want you to meet Peter.” Your father introduced you. “He might look like he’s useless but he’s not that useless” He tapped on his shoulder.

Peter looked at your father confused, apparently he didn’t know that the great Tony Stark had a daughter.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He gave you a small smile as he reached for your hand.

You nodded and shook his hand. You tried to hide your grin when you noticed that Peter could barely look at you, he seemed to be pretty shy.

~*~

“Y/N! Wake up!” Morgen called for you as she ran into your room and jumped on your bed.

You heart was racing, you didn’t know if it was because Morgan stormed into your room like crazy or that you once again dreamed of Peter. Your sister noticed how confused you were and hugged you.

“I’m sorry I scared you, but you promised -” She looked to the door to make sure your parents where not there. “-we’d train today.” Morgan whispered.

You smiled soft and kissed her head. “It wasn’t because of you, sweet pie.”

Morgan was confused and sat down in front of you. “You can talk to me about everything.”

You could hardly believe how cute your little sister was. She was different from Tony and you, while you both tried everything to hide your feelings Morgan always showed them. Morgan always made an effort to take care of others when they felt sad, no matter when.

“I dream a lot of Peter lately, I miss him.” You admit. “Sometimes I think, I should move on but-”

“-do you love him?” Morgan asked confused.

You blushed a bit. “That’s a Story for another time Maguna, come on lets train.”

~*~

While you dressed and freshened, Morgan was already waiting eagerly for you in the garden.

“Hey, trouble.” You called for her. “Where are Mom and dad?”

Maguna ran to you and took your hand. “They’re in the garage and told me to tell you to play with me.”

You believed what Morgan said, however, it was strange when both of your parents were in the garage because Pepper hated it when Tony was working on his suits again. Anyway, Morgan took you to the back of the garden where her secret tent was, to have a serious conversation with you.

“I heared you crying the other night and I want to help you.” She said soft as you both sat down inside the tent. “I haven’t told mom and dad but I’m worried.”

You hugged your sister. “I’m sorry that I troubled your mind by worrying about me.” You were a bit ashamed, you didn’t want your little sister to notice those things. “You don’t have to be worried, sometimes I have to cry to be strong again.”

She looked at you confused. “Do you cry because of Thanos?” She asked without fear in her voice as she said his name. You nodded. “Maybe when we talk about something else, you’ll be happy again.”

“I thought you wanted to train today?” You asked her.

“Yes I do but I want you to be happy more.” She replied with a smile.

You were surprised how brave Morgan was. On the other hand, you couldn’t say Thanos name so easily and Morgan did know enough stories why.

“Okay, what do you wanna talk about?”

Morgan gave you a smile again. “Tell me about Peter. Dad talks about him sometimes and I saw a picture but I don’t really knew him. He seems important to both of you. Maybe you can tell me who he was or how he knew Dad and you.”

You smiled. You didn’t know exactly where to start with Peter.

~*~

You were new at school and Peter and you had some classes together. You didn’t talk much to each other, where you blamed his shyness for. You always thought it was unfounded that he was so shy. Peter looked good, he had short brown hair, was tall and he was athletic. It seemed like it was important for him to be always very polite and helpful. He was also very clever, but his grades were not the best, as he often had to leave class or didn’t attend school at all for any reason.

One day, when you sneaked into your father's laboratory before school, you saw the not-so-secret file of “Spider-Man, the friendly neighborhood spider”, as he called himself. When you saw the picture of Peter Parker, suddenly it all made sense.

From that day on, you have made it your mission to give Peter a little help. Sometimes you made excuses for him, why he wasn’t in class and sometimes you even did his homework, nobody noticed and he never knew who helped him because you put his homework in his locker late at night, for him you broke into you school. You thought it was the least you could do for him, as he always helped all the people in the neighborhood while nobody helped him.

Then the day came when your father and your family split because of the sokovia accords. During this time, you felt more lonely than ever, you couldn’t join Steve’s side, someone who always showed you the right way all your life, neither could you stay with your dad, whom you loved above all else. Since you were trained by the Avengers, your father wanted to keep out of everything, not that anyone of your family would’ve let you fight their battles but you where in the middle, so you decided to run away but no one even noticed... At this time Tony had just turned to Peter, who should help him in the fight against Cap in Germany.

After the fight, Peter noticed that you were always the first in school and the last who left. Then he found some clothes, school supplies and food in a storeroom and counted one and one together. He always put new food in the room and even brought you some clothes. He wondered why you wouldn’t go back home but Cap and his Team were on the run, your dad seemed trying to safe what was left of the Avengers. For Peter it looked like no one had the time to think about you and it was hard for him to think about how bad you must’ve felt that your dad didn’t even notice that you were gone.

At first you thought that Pepper took care of you and somehow figured out where you had been hiding. But one day, when Peter wanted to bring you something to eat again later at night when you’d usually sleep, you were awake in the storeroom - that was the day Peter took your hand and brought you home to May and him, where you lived for a while.

You told Peter everything: how much you wanted to be an Avenger and that you also had the potential to safe people but that your dad wouldn’t let you. You told him why you ran away, that you couldn’t live in an empty Avenger tower with no Avenger, no Family left.

After a while both of you became best friends. You started training together and sometimes Peter and you protected the neighborhood in your self-made supersuits. Until you fell in love with him. At this time after months, you went back “home”. You thought that if you’d ever tell Peter about your feelings that your friendship would be ruined for ever and that was a risk you didn’t want to take.

~*~

“This is a stupid story.” Morgan throw in. “Why would you go and not tell him what you felt for him, when you were best friends? He would’ve felt in love with you too.”

You chuckled. “Well, you’re right. That was why he had to be the smart one. I left Peters home without a word and didn’t tell him where I was going. He looked every for me. “You remembered. “He never thought I’d go back to an empty Avenger Tower but that was what I did. No one lived there anymore so it was safe but eventually he found me, came through my window and forced me to talk to him-“ Morgan smiled because of Peter’s decision. “But not only did Peter find me that day, Mom and Dad also went to the Tower because the alarms went off that someone broke in… because Peter just had to use the windows as entrance.”

Morgan looked worried, her father always told her, "she should never bring a guy home."

You laughed as you saw her face as she thought about what Tony might have done to Peter. “Don’t worry, dad was actually pretty calm but probably because mom hugged Peter the second she saw him. She was very thankful that May and him were there for me and made sure everything was alright.” You smiled.

“As I said, Peter was always very polite but also very loyal and while he was glad to have Dad’s recognition because he was his idol, Peter just wanted to come and talk to me.” You remembered smirking. “We sat down on my bed and he asked a thousand times what was wrong, he apologized as if he did anything wrong, which obviously was not the case but he also told me that he missed me and wanted me to come back to him, that his home wouldn’t feel like a home without me in it.” until I finally gave in and blurred out that I liked him more than friends should.

Morgan kept her hands in front of her mouth so she wouldn’t squeal for joy. As well as Pepper, Morgan was a big fan of romantic and she loved the story with Peter and you already.

You chuckled as you looked at her. “But Peter didn’t say anything for a few seconds, which was when I stood up and was about to leave the room - I was embarrassed. He nearly jumped up, grabbed my hand and twirled me to him - than he kissed me... and the rest is history.”

Morgan and you laughed happily. It was nice to tell her about Peter's and your story, even though Morgan was your sister, despite her being so young, she was your best friend. With her you could talk about everything, even if she didn’t always understood everything. Whenever you two had times like this, you forgot about everything around you and how grown up you should act, you were just happy, you also didn’t notice your dad standing outside and listening.

~*~

Tony went back into the house and straight into the kitchen, where Pepper prepared the meal. He leaned against a chair for a second until he reached for the top shelf above the sink and took down the picture of himself and Peter.

Pepper recognized Tony's gaze, that he was in a complicated position, but decided to wait to say something until he would open up to her.

“Do you remember what I said?” He asked Pepper still looking at the Photo in his hands.

“Yes.” She replied and knew exactly what her husband meant. “The idea you thought about putting in a box and throw it in the sea.”

He nodded. “Maybe I can bring everyone back.” Tony mumbled.

Pepper went to him and leaned gently against Tony's shoulders. "One of my few mistakes was trying to stop you from doing something and I'm not doing that again."

“Y/N, she misses him.”

“So do you.” Pepper added. “And if you’re the only one who can bring everyone back, shouldn’t you at least try?”

Tony turned to her and looked into her eyes, “Do you know how much I love you and how lucky I am to have such a beautiful and smart wife?”

She grinned. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

Pepper wrapped her arms around Tony’s neck while he gently placed his hands on her hips and pulled her closer to him, to kiss her.

“Ugh.” Morgan and you said disgusted.

“Get a room.” You added.

“Or dinner ready.” Morgan chuckled.

~*~

Later that evening, when Morgan was already in bed and Pepper and Tony were watching a movie, you went to the garage to work on your suit. The fear of Thanos, despite him being dead, was still in your bones. Which was why you tried to make your nano suit as good as indestructible, because if ever you were to end up with a similar threat as Thanos, you would protect your family at all costs.

“You should sleep.” Tony said soft as he entered the garage.

Tony was proud and worried about how much you worked on your suit. Therefore, he helped you as much as he could, but unlike him, no one could force you to take a break, except Morgan when she was awake.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

You looked at your dad. He had the look that you were most scared of as a kid, the look when he told you again that he would go on a business trip for a long time and Pepper had to take care of you.

“I think there is a possibility that I can bring everyone back. That I can bring Peter back. I didn’t want to do it first, bury the idea but-”

You had a spark in your eyes which quickly faded. “You heard me talking about him.” Your father was surprised, he was sure that you didn’t notice him. “What? I’d hear you a mile away. Natasha thought me how to recognize your steps and listen carefully, so Peter and I could make out but be prepared if you’d check on us.” You chuckled.

“Yep, maybe I should let that little punk stay where he is now.” Your dad replied and you pushed him softly. “No, I mean it.” You both laughed.

“I don’t want you to do this just for me, Dad... but-”

You looked at him and he recognized what was behind this look. You radiated how determined and brave you were, how much you wanted to help and how much you wanted him to be proud of you. You had this look already as a child.

“-I’m going to help you.”

Tony just smiled and wrapped his arm around you to kiss your head. “I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become Y/N, but no, you won’t.” You looked confused and also angry at him. “I need you to stay here, to protect Pepper and Morgen.”

“-But dad.”

“No, keep going to train her but make sure she stays a kid for as long as possible. I already stole your childhood, and I don’t want to make the same mistake again.” He noticed a tear rolling down your face and wiped it away.

You had the feeling that this conversation was more a goodbye than just a talk with you.

“I’m not mad at you for training her, but I think it’s better if we keep it between us three.” He winked and you both laughed soft, as you thought about what Pepper would do to all of you, if she would ever find out.

“What’re you going to do?” You asked him and hugged him.

Tony leaned his head against your’s. “I’ll bring our whole family back and I’ve to throw Steve the shield on his hand for turning Scott into a baby.”

You chuckled as he said that. Morgan, Pepper and you were a part of his family but the family would never be complete if the Avengers wouldn’t be in it.

___________________________

Taglist: @marvelgladers, @profoundlyunimpressedwiththeban, @abswritesfandoms, @not-so-epic-iii, @queenylime, @onceuponagleepottermindlock, @alainabooks143, @clockblobber, @cliffordmess, @bartonsbowandarrow, @memelovescaps, @adriennelenoir, @laurxn-robinson, @a-studying-narnian-demigod, @staplerrrr, @vaehina

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It would mean the world to me if you’d leave some comments and tell me what you think about part three of Sulit!

xoxo

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staytheb · 4 years ago

Text

Audition Day

Genre: college!au, slice of life, slight fluff, slight angst Word Count: 3,554 Summary: Serena, Jasmine, Katherine, and Melanie find themselves auditioning for the Sing In May a week after the White Day Festival and even happen to run into several NCT members as well.

Day Festival masterlist.

Warning: semi-proofread.

whoo! hi. i’m on a roll at the moment and i hope it won’t fade away so fast. my mental health has seemed to improve lately and work isn’t as stressful as it used to be. also i can work on my stories without being so drained and uninterested. anyways, since i’m in the mood here is another snippet for that NCT story series of sorts. have no idea what to actually call it, but they’re pretty much standalones lol. but yeah, happy reading and kthxbai, Admin Lia~

A week later the quartet found themselves in the school's auditorium at eight in the morning. They were informed by Gina to arrive early for the auditions and if they did then they wouldn't have to go to any of their classes, but could still receive the attendance and work for missing them. So here they were all comfy in sweats and hoodies awaiting for further details along with all the others auditioning for the showcase. Anyways, for the past few days the quartet have been practicing a few songs just in case another participate was doing the same song and didn't want to clash. So they prepared backup songs although they wondered if they should've even bothered as they didn't voluntarily sign up in the first place.

"This is still so early, bro." Serena said in-between a yawn while slouching in her seat. "Why do we need to be here so early though?"

"Gina said the auditions will be all day as oppose it to being a three day auditioning due to last minute changes." Jasmine stated as she also let out a yawn and was slouching in her seat.

"What's up with the last minute changes this year?" Melanie asked to no one in particular.

"I know, right." Katherine agreed. "I just hope they have snacks."

"If not, then I'm leaving to get bubble tea." Serena remarked.

"You and your unhealthy obsession with bubble tea."

Jasmine eyed her friend as Serena shrugged.

"It's addicting."

"By the way, what's the name that Gina gave us for this?" Katherine asked remembering something.

"I think it's Lady Rose or something." Jasmine replied as Melanie went through her friend to double check.

"Ah, it's Roseate Bloom now. It was Lady Rose."

"What about our stage names?" Serena inquired interested in the topic all of a sudden. "Is it similar to what we used in the past?"

"Um," Melanie continued to scroll through her phone before answering, "Yeah something like that."

Melanie showed the trio their new stage names as the twins sighed while Serena chuckled.

"I guess Gina had as much fun as I did."

"True."

Soon the group of four looked about them as they noticed that the auditorium was quite filled up save a few seats here and there. They continued talking as they wondered how many acts were actually going to perform and if the ones in charge of the event was going to be picky or not.

"Hello everyone and thank you all for joining us this morning for auditions."

Haji, the overall person in charged of Sing In May, stood on stage to welcome the participants getting the attention of everyone present. She then motioned for several more people to join her.

"This year joining me in the selection for those to participate in Sing In May are Daeyoung, Lina, Jenny, Sulhee, Aaron, Dohyun, and Ray. So please be mindful of us and we'll be mindful of you."

The other seven introduced themselves before walking off the stage and down the area where several tables were set up like booths as Haji continued speaking.

"Anyways, I'm going to divide you guys into certain sections before you audition. When I call out your name and or the group you're with, please make your way to one of the seven booths quietly and without disturbances led by one of them."

Haji explained while holding several pieces of paper and motioning to the tables.

"Please pay attention as once you move over to your assigned area where Ray, Sulhee, and the others will hand you your name-tags and other information. When everyone is settled the auditions will start at nine."

"I still can't believe we have to wear these until auditions are over." Serena complained as she adjusted the straps of her large name-tag.

"It makes us seem like real trainees having one of those monthly evaluations." Katherine mused. "I kinda like it."

"Of course you would." Melanie remarked with a laugh as she got done adjusting her name-tag.

"Anyways, I'm just glad that we don't have to wear any costumes for this."

"I know." Jasmine agreed.

"But if we make it in for the showcase I'm sure Gina got something in mind for us to wear."

Serena sighed upon imaging that.

"So true. Anyways, I'm just mad that we're in the late afternoon. I would rather get it done and over with."

"Maybe Gina will do something later on about it." Katherine reasoned with a laugh. "I wondered how many they're gonna accept this year."

"Depending on how the acts goes today we could have at least like twenty." Jasmine answered.

"That's roughly like an hour." Melanie calculated. "Wasn't it like two hours or three hours last year?"

"I think so." Jasmine recalled. "But last year was a competition and not a showcase so there were quite a few rounds or something like that for last year's Sing In May."

"Oh yeah, I remember that now. Gina told me that the whole competition was a mess to deal with due to everyone not being on the same page. Both the staffs and the contestants" Katherine recalled remembering what happened last year. "Anyways, so they're doing a showcase and I think it's gonna be at least thirty to get in as many people as possible."

"What are they trying to get with the funds from this showcase for?" Serena asked once she was satisfied with her name-tag placement.

"It's going for the All-Star Sports competition." Jasmine answered. "Gina mentioned they wanna add an actual obstacle course which fell through last year."

"Oh really? That'll be cool." Melanie said with a nod.

"Anyways," Katherine directed the conversation elsewhere. "Just like what Serena said earlier, let's get some bubble tea."

"Aight then. Let's go."

Serena cheered happily at the prospect of a boba run.

"What flavor did you get again?" Katherine asked Serena upon seeing her drink.

"Rose."

She offered the drink towards her friend.

"Do you wanna try?"

"No thanks. I'm good. Wintermelon is all I need."

"Let me try that mochi waffle you got." Melanie asked her sister as Serena handed one of them over to her. "Is it any good?"

"I dunno. I saw a post about it online and wanted to try it." Serena answered with a chuckle. "It looked good and smells lovely."

The group of four were casually heading back to the university after buying their snacks and drinks. They were enjoying themselves and taking in the sunshine until they ran into an ex-friend of Serena's just outside the entrance of the university. He was with two other males.

"Oh ho. Look who we have here." The ex-friend exclaimed as he and his two buddies blocked the quartet's path.

"Must be fate bringing us together, Serena."

"You wished that was true, Sammy." Jasmine stated as she instinctively moved to put a barrier between the male and her friend.

"Why don't you buzz off?"

Sammy cast her an annoyed look.

"This doesn't concern you, Jasmine."

"It does when you keep on bothering her when she ended the friendship two years ago."

Sammy scoffed.

"That's what you think."

"It's not what we think. It's what we know." Katherine clarified as she, too, joined her twin in blocking the male from Serena.

"Besides, what are you even doing over here?"

"I can do whatever I want, Katherine." He answered with a snicker.

"Seriously, dude, why can't you just leave her and us alone." Melanie told him off. "There's no reason for us to associate with one another."

Sammy cast his eyes onto Melanie with a hard stare.

"Hey, if we happen to cross paths, then who am I to deny that."

"Right." She motioned to the school. "Just outside the university like that?"

"Well, it is what it is. So what are you gonna do about it, Melanie?"

The girls didn't like the way he had said Melanie's name. They also didn't like the way he stood with his friends behind him. The quartet became cautious and wary when they noticed that his friends almost surrounded them a second later.

"Look, Sammy. We're no longer friends so just leave me and them alone." Serena reasoned with the male as she stood before him now.

"You really think you're all that, don't you, Serena?"

Sammy scoffed as Serena remained firm.

"I do if I have to. Please just stop doing whatever it is you're doing."

Before Sammy could say or do anything else, two other voices intervened from behind him.

"Is there a problem here?"

"Ling Shuang?"

The whole group turned their attention to the newcomers and the quartet recognized the two as Kun and WinWin with WinWin calling Serena by another name.

"No, there's no problem and no you don't need to bother. I'm just having a chat with my girlfriend and her friends." Sammy answered trying to coolly play it off.

"I'm not your girlfriend." Serena clarified with a firm tone. "And we were not having a chat."

Somehow the two males made their way over to the group and eased themselves in-between Sammy and his friends and the quartet.

"I'm sure these ladies have ended their interaction with you fellas." Kun said in a calm tone while shooting Sammy a smile, but his eyes said otherwise.

Sammy looked between the two males and the females before glancing at his own friends.

"Psh, whatever. She's not even worth it." Sammy said while backing off.

He motioned for his friend to get out of there.

"Let's go."

Sammy and his buddies took off with Sammy not even glancing back. The quartet let out a breath of relieved as they hoped this was the final time they would see him.

"You good?" Melanie asked her sister with a worried look. "I think we should put a restraining order on him."

"I'm fine and I think so, too." Serena answered before turning to the two males. "Thank you and sorry that you guys had to get involved."

"No worries. Gotta help people when things like that occur." Kun brushed it off in good-nature.

Meanwhile, WinWin cast Serena a stern look.

"Ling Shuang."

"Sorry, WinWin. I thought he wouldn't appear after you told him off last time."

WinWin sighed, but nodded.

"It's fine. Just, be safe and don't go anywhere alone. Okay?"

"I will. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Are you sure that she and WinWin have nothing going on between them?" Jasmine muttered to the other two, but Serena overheard her.

"We don't." Serena clarified.

"By the way, Serena, why does he call you by another name?" Katherine inquired a moment later.

"I came up with a Chinese name for myself when I first met him and it stuck since." Serena explained as Melanie laughed.

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

Kun happened to noticed their name-tags.

"Ah, are you guys participating in the Sing In May, too?"

"Auditioning." Jasmine corrected. "We don't know if we'll actually be in the showcase."

"Well, good luck. Our other friends are also participating, but with different teams. Why don't we head back together?"

While heading back to the auditorium, Serena had to keep her friends and sister in check as they kept pushing her to walk alongside either boys to tease her. Both males noticed, but didn't comment as Serena just shook her head to indicate that it was nothing while later glaring at the trio to stop their little antics. They didn't.

"There's actually a lot of good acts auditioning here to be honest." Katherine commented after watching a soloist belt out notes like no other.

"Do they really need us then?" Serena asked skeptically. "I mean, honestly there were some real good ones that could definitely bring in some interests."

"Even if we wanna leave, Gina would not let us live it down." Melanie reasoned with a yawn. "Has Gina responded back yet?"

"Not yet. We still have less than half an hour left." Jasmine informed her. "Besides, Gina was gonna message us when to be back there."

Upon returning to the auditorium, the quartet were informed by Gina that their time slot had actually been moved up earlier than previous as well as the list of songs the others auditioning were performing to. It made it easier for the quartet which song to audition with and to get it done and over with as well.

"This is so annoying." Serena commented as she slumped into her seat. "At least it'll be over soon."

The trio turned to look over at Jasmine who let out a suppressed squeal. They follow her line of sight and noticed that she had spotted Johnny in the distance. He was speaking with the rest of his Nu Chi Theta members. They wondered if all or some of them were going to participate in the Sing In May.

"Hey, you should've confessed when he met up with us earlier when we arrived with WinWin and Kun." Serena teased as she nudged Jasmine who nudged her back.

"No way I could do that on my own. I would need someone with me."

"Hmm, maybe Serena can help out by asking Taeyong on a date." Katherine mused as Serena frown with a shake of her head.

"Then how about Melanie asking Jaehyun out then?"

Katherine looked over at Melanie who shot her a knowing look.

"Or you can be a good sister and ask Taeil out and then the both of you could go on a double date instead of Serena and I."

"Anyways, let's go." Katherine responded instead dodging the topic. "Gina just messaged us to head backstage to prep."

"One, two," Jasmine started the greeting like always whenever they were a performing group before finishing as a team in a cheerful tone, "We are Roseate Bloom! Hello!"

The quartet quickly introduced themselves with the stage names that Gina had designated for them with the meaning of flowers in the order of Melanie, Katherine, Serena, and Jasmine.

"I'm Jin Dalrae"

"I'm Jang Mihwa."

"I'm Han Songyi."

"And I'm Min Deulle."

Roseate Bloom bowed as their were some applause. Jasmine spoke again.

"We'lll be performing We Are A Bit Different so please watch over us kindly."

"Thank you." Haji thanked them as she motioned for them to start. "Whenever you're ready to go."

The group went into formation as they waited for the music to start. Despite their earlier complaint they found themselves once again enjoying it. When the song came to an end did they remain in their ending poses and waited a few seconds before dropping it and awaited what Haji and the others had to say.

"Alright, thank you so much for your audition, Roseate Bloom." Haji thanked them with a smile while writing on the clipboard before her.

She then glanced at the others.

"Would you guys like to say anything?"

Lina nodded before looking over at Serena with a smile.

"Han Songyi." She announced as it was quiet for a moment.

Jasmine nudged Serena that it was her that Lina had called upon.

"Uh, yes?" Serena answered as she looked at her curiously.

"Where did you buy that strawberry cat hoodie?"

Serena relaxed upon hearing Lina's question and answered with a small smile.

"Ah, it was a gift from a friend back home. I don't know where he bought it though."

"Ah, if you find out, then will you let me know?"

"Of course."

The others laughed as Haji went back on topic.

"Anyone else have something to say?"

Daeyoung raised his hand as he looked at them all.

"Jang Mihwa, could I request you sing a little something right now?"

"Uh," Katherine stalled as she slightly panicked while glancing at the other three.

"Oh, that song you sang this morning when showering." Melanie suggested in a whisper as Katherine nodded feeling less nervous.

"Yeah. I can do that."

Daeyoung smiled as everyone else anticipated what Katherine would sing.

~Let me sing a song for love, I wanna sing a song for love, let it be a song for love, and you can hum along, and someday you'll find it, the way to sing your song for love, song for love, song for love, maybe someday you'll find it, the way to sing your song for love~

Katherine sang the chorus for Song For Love and sheepishly cast a smile afterwards.

"Thank you so much, Jang Mihwa." Daeyoung thanked her with a clap. "I'm good now."

Haji chuckled before looking at the rest of the judges.

"Anything else?"

Ray raised his hand this time while looking at the quartet.

"Min Deulle, I'm assuming you're like the leader of Roseate Bloom?"

"Uh, yes." Jasmine answered with a sheepish laugh. "De facto leader."

"Nice. You give off that vibe to me. How do you feel about having that role?”

Jasmine shrugged as she answered nonchalantly.

“I don’t mind, really. I’m just glad to know that I have a wonderful team to stand by me and help me lead.”

“Ooh, good answer.”

Ray chuckled before asking another question.

“Anyways, are the names listed on your name-tag your stage names, perhaps?"

"Mmhmm. For Sing In May purposes."

"I see. Is it related to your group name that's why?"

"Yes, it is."

"Very nice."

Ray looked at Haji with a satisfied smile.

"I'm good here as well."

Haji chuckled once again and asked once more if anyone else had anything for Roseate Bloom with Sulhee raising her hand and directing her attention onto Melanie.

"Yeah, Since Jin Dalrae hasn't spoke yet, could you sing a little something for us right now?"

Melanie's eyes went wide at being caught off guard just like Katherine until Katherine suggested a song for her to do, too, just like what Melanie had done for her.

"Sure." Melanie answered before singing a snippet of All To U.

~Imma give it all to you, and baby it’s so true, I’m gon be insane that when I’m lying next to you, I’ll give it all to you and baby it’s so true, I’m gon be insane that when I’m lying next to you~

"Ohh, lovely." Sulhee praised with glee. "Thank you so much, Min Dalrae."

Sulhee nodded at Haji who once again asked if the others wanted to commented before facing the quartet again after receiving head shakes.

"I think that's it for now, ladies. We'll notify if you're in the final line-up within a week. Have a good rest of your day, Roseate Bloom."

"Thank you."

The quartet thanked them as they bowed once more before walking off and handling all of the items back to one of the student council members as another group walked past to perform.

"Oh!"

"Serena! Melanie!"

"Watch our stage!"

"Yeah. Watch us!"

"And let us know how we did afterwards."

The male quintet spoke as they walked by the quartet as they addressed Melanie and Serena while waving politely at Katherine and Jasmine.

"Oh yeah, sure. Serena and I will totally be cheering for y'all!" Melanie informed them as she nudged Serena playfully.

"Cool! Thanks!"

The quintet ran off to prepare while Jasmine stared at them with a shocked face.

"You guys also know Chenle, Jisung, Jaemin, Jeno, and Renjun, too?"

Jasmine playfully smacked.

"Girl, y'all had the connection this whole time and could've helped me out with Johnny."

"We're just mutual friends through Ten, Jasmine." Melanie clarified. "It's not like we actually hang out with them. Besides, just confess already."

"Yeah, for real. Confess." Serena chimed in with a sour face not directed at her friend. "If we did announce our friendship, then we would be stalked by their dumb fangirls. They're so obsessive, so possessive, and even beyond rational. It's kinda mind-bogging."

Jasmine nodded upon hearing those words.

"Oh, true. Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. My bad for sounding like one."

"It's okay, sis, and you’re not that bad as them, but just go through the natural way and not be a stalker that would make them hate you even more." Katherine advised before looking over at the other pair of sisters with a cheeky expression.

"By the way, I think it was bound to happen one way or another."

"Why do you say that?" Melanie asked with a puzzled gaze.

"Well, the way I see it we're all gonna be crossing paths more since we all have a crush on a Nu Chi Theta member. Another thing to note is that you and Serena are actually on friendly terms with several of them already."

"This isn't a drama, Katherine."

Serena pointed out with a suspicious look.

"So don't go jinxing it or whatever."

"It's bound to happen, Serena, whether you like it or not."

"Shut up."

The other three laughed as their attention soon went to the quintet as they performed their rendition of No.1. Serena ran off once the song ended leaving the other three to make excuses on her behalf. Anyways, barely a week later the quartet received news from Gina personally that Roseate Bloom had been chosen to participate in the Sing In May without her actual doing as the judges really enjoyed their stage and personality. The twins were excited while the other sisters were just going with the flow. More Melanie Serena, as Serena wondered if life really wanted her to go through some drama-like life.

#staytheb #nct scenarios #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #nct 2018 #wayv #nct 2020 #superm

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