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buckysdolls · 4 years ago

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Saviour

My first Loki fic!!

Summary- AU- Loki survives Thanos’ snap and decides to stay on Earth to help defeat Thanos. During the final battle Loki comes to your rescue.

Warning- Mentions of Guns and Knives.

Though many of the team disliked Loki, which was a fair conclusion, you found him surprisingly funny and utterly charming from the first time you’d met him. You were mesmerized my his devilishly handsome good looks and impeccable one liners that would make you chuckle under your breath. He’d always appreciate your reaction and every time he was around on earth his endless teasing and flirting had you weak at the knees. Him being the God of Mischief totally enticed you, his adventures always sounded exciting and though you weren’t impressed with his attempts to take over the human race, multiple times… you were impressed with his decision to stay and fight, becoming an Avenger to save the earth. Having failed to kill Thanos before decapitating him, Thor had a breakdown and disappeared. Loki made the decision to stay with you and Nat at the compound to try and find a way to fix Thor and the mess Thanos had created. This wasn’t a hard decision for Loki, he wanted to be around you, he was utterly drawn to you and he’d known it from the moment he first saw you in the corner of a room trying to hide your snigger after he’d said something. He remembered your eyes meeting from across the room, he remembered how you coughed your chuckle away upon meeting his gaze and lowering your head feeling shy at his attention. You were able to teach him a few things as your relationship blossomed over time. A bit of humility and compassion but he never failed to provide his usual mischievous and sarcastic nature to any situation. Even though it took him almost five years to accept his feelings were more that just an attraction or a phase, you both enjoyed being a couple and having each other for company. You felt awful finding Loki considering the circumstances, as many people had lost their loved ones, but Loki would often tell you not to bother about other people’s thoughts and to enjoy the happiness.

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You and Loki both looked at each other from across the room, eyes wide puzzled with confusion as the God of Thunder strolled into the compound. This wasn’t the God of Thunder you had remembered; his hair was in knotty and tussled. His infamous abs were now a beer belly that hung over the belt of his trousers.

“Seems as though my brother really let himself go” Loki had made his way over to you and whispered in your ear. You tutted and rolled your eyes as you could hear the quiet snigger that escaped from his lips in your ear. Thor’s eyes landed on the pair of you, he was clearly tipsy as he stumbled over.

“Loki! Y/N!” Thor held his arms ready to engulf you in a big hug as you walked forwards to meet him. You face scrunched up as a foul smell filled your nostrils as Thor smothered you in a big hug, tossing you about in his arms.

“Y/N! It’s wonderful to see you. Stunning as usual!” Thor continued to hug you; his head now buried in the crook of your neck. You felt an arm snake around you waist and pulling you away from the hug. Though it was nice to see Thor you were so pleased to feel Loki pulling you into his side as his hand settled on you hips. You turned your head to see Loki giving Thor a death stare, he clearly didn’t appreciate Thor’s attempt to be charming towards you. Feeling the need to reassure Loki you leaned in planting a small kiss on his cheek letting your free hand settle on his right cheek. You watched as his face transformed to his smug smile he usually gave whenever he felt pleased with himself, you turned your head back to see Thor stood there, his mouth in an ‘O’ shape and his sunglasses tipped on the bridge of his nose.

“Ooooh… You two are a… thing now are you?” Thor expressed a look of shock wiggling his finger between you and Loki. You watched on as he downed the rest of his beer, his eyes peering from the side as his sight never left the pair of you. He threw the empty can on the floor and quicky burst into laughter.

“That’s great!” Thor’s pulled the pair of you into one of his welcoming hugs. You and Loki managed to steal a glance at each other as your faces were squished against the pecs of Thor slowly suffocating into his chubbiness. You could tell Loki was far from impressed, his lips straight and his eyes glaring into your soul in utter annoyane. You gave him a big sarcastic smile knowing it would annoy him. You mouthed to Loki ‘smile’ as you cuddled into Thor to tease him.

“I’m so pleased Y/N that Loki finally told you he loves you. He’d only go on and on about you when I would see him” Thor squished you both harder continuing to embrace you both. Finding Thor’s comment hilarious you met Loki’s eyes, raising, and wiggling your eyebrows as you thinned your lips inwards to hide your smile. Loki closed his eyes as he rolled them.

“Let go brother!”

Letting you both go Loki quicky walked away with a huff as you and Thor exchanged side glances both finding Loki’s reaction hilarious.

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“I could really use some help over here” You yelled out over the communication system as the oncoming Outriders ganging up on you was becoming overwhelming. A soon as you’d shoot one more of them would appear not leaving you enough time to either reload or pull out your knives. You found yourself circled by them and being pushed to the ground, these monsters looked ghastly and drooled everywhere making you gag.

“I got you darling”

You recognised Loki’s sweet voice, oddly sounding sadistic as he was clearly enjoying the rush of brutally slaughtering a bunch of aliens. You saw multiple knives being skilfully thrown slashing through the Outriders as they fell dead, crushing you.

“These things are gross!” You called out in disgust before seeing Loki standing before you kicking the Outriders off you. You couldn’t help but notice how wonderfully handsome he looked, towering above you. He wore his signature smirk, with his pearly white teeth flashing, his striking blue eyes graced yours.

“You still look compelling to me darling” Loki smirked as he reached his hand out to you. You bit your lip, letting the corner of your lips turn up into a smile as you reached your feet. You and Loki stared deeply into each other’s eyes, completely forgetting you were in the middle of a world-ending battle. Loki threw a few knives at oncoming Outriders never letting his gaze leave yours, he expertly would catch them without looking. You couldn’t take the suspense of looking into his eyes anymore, your lust to jump on Loki was too much. You immediately took to your tiptoe and crashed your lips on to his, he didn’t resist he only pulled you closer to him so he could feel you against him. You felt the bulge from under Loki’s robes throb making you moan into the kiss. Letting his lips fit into yours, his tongue swiped and bit at your bottom lip to allow him in. He smacked his hands to your face clutching onto your cheeks, your hair wrapped in between his fingers as the kiss deepened becoming quicker and harder. You found your hands dancing in his hair pulling on strands as the kiss became needier and intense. A flash of lightening waved past you causing you both to break away breathlessly, your heads leaning on one another to look out the corner of your eyes to see the flash of lightning hit a heard of Outriders that were heading for you and Loki. You both looked to the other side of you to see Thor stood there, he wore a huge grin having just witnessed you and Loki.

“You have time to flirt later brother.” Thor walked past you both as Stormbreaker flew back into his hand. Thor winked with a quick smirk before Loki nodded at Thor as a sigh of respect before watching him fly off. You and Loki turned back-to-back to fend off many more Outriders, skilfully swapping between each other’s knives and guns. Your heavy breathing and adrenaline slowed down as the chaos around you dwindled, the sound of guns popping, and the shouting had gone. Thanos’ team was disappearing in front of you just as your team had done five years ago. The fight was over. Yours and Loki’s backs bumped into each other quickly turning around to meet each other.

“That was hot” Loki expressed cocking his head to the side with a grin.

“You found fighting a bunch of alien doggos hot?” You furrowed your eyebrows whilst trying to catch your breath, thinking how fucked up was Loki really?

“Not that Y/N. The kiss?”

“Ooooo” You nodded your head slowly letting a smile creep on your lips as you thought about it.

“Yeah that was pretty hot!” You sniggered allowing you body to flop into Loki, him catching you in his arms. Your body pressed into him for a comforting hug, he could tell how tired you were, so he stroked your hair tenderly to soothe you. You hummed noises insinuating you were enjoying the touch of Loki’s affections as his hug consumed you. Loki felt calm as he felt your arms wrap around his waist, bringing him down from the hype of the fight. Though he would find it hard to express… he was thankful to know you survived the battle and would be able to stand by his side forever.

#loki #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki oneshot #tom hiddleston #the avengers #marvel universe #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #avengers endgame #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson fanfiction

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bcdrawsandwrites · 4 years ago

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Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

Characters: Caligosto Loboto, Loboto’s parents

Warnings: Surgery, lobotomy, hallucinations, child abuse, EVERYTHING IS HORRIBLE AND NOTHING IS OKAY WITH THIS (but there’s nothing graphic)

Description: Just be still, and you'll be fine.

Beta Readers: @jaywings and Rocket (who I’m not sure is on Tumblr?)

Notes: who let me write Psychonauts fanfic. also some of the phrases in this fic were taken from this site.

---~~~---

“Scattering sparks of thought energy

Deliver me and carry me away”

“Here in my kingdom, I am your lord

I order you to cower and præy”

- The Mind Electric, by Tally Hall

---

Sometimes it was nice to just lay down in the park and watch the clouds float overhead.

He often had a lot of energy, both normal and... well... unnatural, but sometimes it was nice to relax, especially when he didn't feel like himself. His energy was ebbing, and there was something… something...

"Can you tell us another?"

He glanced up. Several of his usual playmates were standing around him, their faces lit up in interest. He grinned a wide, toothy grin.

"The boy babbled blatantly but was blessed with a brilliant brain!"

"Good!"

The compliment made his brow furrow. Normally they might cheer "cool!" or "awesome!" but he shrugged—he'd take it. It gave him a warm feeling inside, unlike the frequent chill of his own home. Plus, he couldn’t help but light up as he watched the smiles on his friends’ faces—some of them were still losing baby teeth, he noted, and the progression was fascinating. He knew what he could do to see more of those grins, too...

Without raising his head too much—it hurt a little, and he could see well enough from where he was—he glanced around to make sure his mother wasn't too close by. Luckily she was way off in the pavilion, talking to several other adults. Good; she wouldn't see, and neither would the other prying parents.

"How about this?" he asked, and with a tiny bit of concentration lifted a few rocks off the ground, spinning them in circles. Instead of cheering, however, the children backed away, their smiles fading.

"Look, he's trying to—!" one girl whispered frantically.

"Don't worry, he's fine for now."

He frowned, dropping the rocks. "O-oh, I'm sorry! I didn't think they would see..."

"That's okay. Can you tell us another?"

"Disappointed dogs don't do dangerous deeds." Wincing, he closed his eyes—there was a breeze that seemed to pass over his head only, running through his hair.

His scalp felt cold.

---

"Go on, Caligosto. Show the doctor how you can pick it up."

"Like this...?"

"No, the other way."

"But... mother doesn't like it when I do it that way."

"Do as you're told, Caligosto."

"...Okay..."

The fish swam all about the pond, but came closer to the surface when they realized he was watching from his usual spot on the shore. As they nearned him, he settled over the grass, staring down at his scaly friends. The fish seemed to like his company, and they wouldn't snitch to his parents if he did anything they wouldn't like.

On top of that, he felt a connection with them, almost like the sort of connection he could feel with people. They couldn't talk, and they didn't have facial expressions… but he could almost read them somehow, more and more as he continued visiting. Now he could sense what foods they wanted, or when they were scared of a nearby predator. It was nice to help them out.

It was also interesting to see the different kinds of teeth the fish had—some had sharp fangs, some had tiny flat teeth, and some had teeth in weird places, like their tongue or throat!

"Can you hear us?"

He would have jumped, but that would have scared the fish. As it was, he leaned forward, his eyes wide beneath their glasses. "Yes! I can hear you!" He could hardly contain his excitement. "I'd always thought I could hear you before, but never this clear! Do you think—"

"Good! Can you tell us another?"

He blinked. "Another what?"

"Another phrase."

Oh, right. In his excitement he'd nearly forgotten that he'd occasionally show off for the fish as well, though he'd never been sure if they could understand. "Friendly fish flip-flop fast when facing fearsome foes!"

"Very good!"

Giggling, he settled himself back down on the soft grass. "I'm glad you think so... my parents always tell me to be quiet."

Apparently, the fish had nothing to say to this, for they remained quiet, swimming just under the surface and watching him. So he kept watching them too, observing the light that reflected off their scales. But one creature caught his eye: a small turtle swimming in place. It was odd to see to begin with, but the paddling of its little feet seemed strangely frantic, its front legs moving in big sweeping arcs. It didn't speak, but he swore he could hear it—

Away, away—

---

"Is that... all he's capable of?"

"I'm afraid not."

"D—Father, are we done? I don't like it here..."

"Only speak when spoken to, Caligosto."

"Can we see anything else?"

"Yes."

"I-I don't want to—"

"Caligosto."

"Okay, okay! Let me—"

---

The seas were calm, and he had worked hard today as a navigator (or was he first mate? he couldn't quite remember, but that was okay), keeping a close eye on the compass and making sure they were staying on course. They were nearing the shore, but for now, he was taking a break, resting against a coil of rope with his eyes closed, enjoying the smell of the ocean air and the feeling of sunshine.

And also trying to forget his headache—he was pretty sure he bumped his head coming down from the crow's nest.

"You're doin' good today, mate! Squawk!"

He opened one eye, noting the parrot sitting just behind him. "Thanks, Crackers!"

Birds hadn’t been something that interested him too much at first; what kind of silly animal didn’t have teeth? That is, until he’d learned that birds have a weird organ that acted as their teeth. Fascinating!

The parrot cocked her head at him. "Do you know any more?"

Oh right, of course the parrot enjoyed those phrases. "The pretty parrot perched upon the putrid pirate's peacoat!"

Crackers gave a pleased chirp, ruffling her feathers.

Wincing, he found his headache was starting to get worse, like a bad toothache, and closed his eyes again. "Do you think we'll reach shore soon?"

We won't if you don't get out.

He opened his eyes. Crackers was gone.

---

"STOP! STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

"What are you doing?!"

"I-I just did what you asked—"

"I didn't tell you to—!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Put him out, hurry—"

"We've seen enough, doctor. We'll schedule an appointment for your son next week."

"N-next week?!"

"Very well. He'll be there promptly."

---

The kids’ expressions had changed from bright smiles to tightly-drawn lips and wide eyes, and it made him shudder. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, it's fine. Tell us another."

"The store..." He paused, concentrating. Strange, he didn't usually have trouble remembering these things, but it must have just been his headache. "The store clerk stood and... stared at me in stupor."

"I would too after what I've seen," one kid muttered, only to be shushed by another.

His heart gave a pained jolt. "Wh-what?"

"Nothing!"

He didn't like the way they were talking—it reminded him of... something else. Someone else. Another child stepped closer to him, looking down at him with a furrowed brow and frightened eyes. He felt the sudden urge to scoot away.

You're in danger.

---

"Wh...where am I supposed to go?"

"Just in through these doors."

"Okay... Why do I have to come back here to the doctor, though? I feel fine."

"Nevermind that. Do you remember what your father told you to do?"

"Yeah! The fun phrases. I know a million of those!"

"Good."

"Would you like to hear... w-wait, who are all these people watching? Wh... what are those?"

---

The fish were swimming in circles and starting to make him dizzy. He rested his head down in the cool grass, but it did little to help. "Oh... sorry. I'm not feeling so good. I should be going home..."

"You can go home soon. Tell us another first."

"Ugh... My mom... m-my... mother makes a... marvelous... meat... mincemeat pie." Recalling these phrases was starting to feel like what he imagined pulling teeth felt like, but a lot less fun. Was his mother missing him now? How long had he been gone? "I... really need to go home now."

"No you don't."

His eyes shot open, and he shivered as he stared down at the fish. "Wh... what did you... say?"

"Don't try to move. You'll be all right."

All of the fish watched him eagerly... but the turtle was still waving its front feet even more frantically.

---

"Don't worry about that."

"N-no! I know what those tools are—I've read my dad's books. You're gonna hurt me!"

"Nonsense. Just lay on the bed and you'll be fine."

"No, I don't want to! You can't make me!"

---

The ship heaved up and down with the swell of the waves. His insides rolled with it, and he remained lying on the coil of rope, waiting for his stomach to stop lurching and his head to stop aching.

"You stopped. Keep going."

"Ugh... The newt... nuzzled in a... n-narrow... nook."

"Good."

"No, it's not, Crackers! I don't feel good..."

"You're fine, squawk! Try to distract yourself."

"Okay..." Opening one eye, he raised a shaky hand, lifting the end of the rope and making it snake through the air, though it shuddered all the while. It was a lot more difficult than usual... Normally he could lift several objects at once, and delighted the crew by juggling them. He felt like he should be able to do other things too, but what?

---

"Oh mercy! He's going to kill someone!"

"Caligosto, if you don't stop this at once, I will call your father!"

"So call him! I want him here! Why didn't he come with me?!"

"Oh no, he's trying to light the chair on fire—"

"Go get the earmuffs, now."

"MOM! DAD! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"GET THEM NOW!"

---

The sun was covered in clouds, and the humid air brought a promise of rain. Why were the other kids still here? Surely their parents would have called them home by now. He wished they would. Surely his mom would have called him, too, wouldn't she?

"Tell us another," one girl asked urgently, taking a hesitant step forward.

His head was swimming. "I-I don't wanna..."

"Tell us now."

Focusing, he managed to force his mind to concentrate. "She sniffed... and s-smelled... the stirring storm."

"Good, tell us another," one fish bubbled from the water.

A sharp pain like a broken tooth filled his skull, his insides felt sick, and the rain was beginning to fall. "I... I can't..."

"Tell us, Caligosto."

"B... Bernie read a book... b-by the... ba—babbling brook." He wanted to wipe the rain from his face, but he felt too exhausted to move his arms. "C-can I go... home..."

"Squawk! We're not to shore yet. Give me another."

He stared up at the blurred vision of the bird. "Why...?"

"Do as you're told."

"Th-the... hummingbirds... hovered... a-and hummed in... heavenly..." His voice broke off into a choked sob. "I wanna... no... I wanna... go home..."

"Caligosto?"

---

"I WANT TO GO HOME!"

"Get it on him, get it on—"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"Where did he go?!"

"The monster's turned invisible!"

"I WANNA GO HOME!"

"There! Put it on right—there!"

"STOP, I WANNA—"

---

"...go home!"

He blinked.

"You are home, Cali," his mother said, beaming down at him with a wide, pearly-white grin.

"I am?" Blinking again, he looked around. Indeed, he was in front of his house, with his parents both standing on the front porch, as they had been when he'd left. On top of that, his head didn't hurt and he didn't feel sick. "I... I am!"

"You're all done with the doctors now," his father said, smiling. "We're so proud of you!"

"You... you are?" He stared open-mouthed; his father had never told him that before. "I'm all done?"

"Yes you are, dear." His mother knelt down, but he didn't come closer—something was making his hair stand on end. "Almost."

His stomach twisted.

"Just tell us another, son."

"N... no..."

The smile on his father's face faded. "Do as you're told, Caligosto."

"N-no... no, no..." He tried to shake his head, but couldn't. "I... I want to go home..."

The pain was coming back, spiking through his head, and he cried out.

"We're going to lose him—"

"No, just a little more."

"No," he sobbed. "No, no! Mom! Dad!"

The park was flooding. The fish were swirling around his head. Waves crashed over the boat.

He had to do something. Anything.

Focusing with everything he had left, he tried to think, tried to move something, tried to make something burn, tried to call for help—

Did—did you hear that?

Cali?

The agony peaked, and his vision turned orange.

---

"Ooooh... ugh..."

"Is this safe?"

"It's safe for us. The psilirium will keep him under control during the procedure."

"But can he still hear us?"

"Son, can you tell us one of your funny phrases?"

"Sure... grass grows greener in the graveyard."

"You see? He'll be fine."

---

There was no park.

There was no pond.

There was no ocean.

There were several doctors staring down at him, a great many more people seated in the theater behind them, and an empty feeling within him.

Something was gone. Something important.

"How do you feel, Caligosto?"

His brain was slow to work, and he could not form the words, but if he could have, he would have answered:

Like... a cavity.

#dr loboto #loboto #caligosto loboto #psychonauts #my art #my writing #fanfic #who let me in this fandom

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andguesswhat · 4 years ago

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The fool on the hill - Chapter 7

Yeah, well… Probably not what you’ve expected… But for me this is them as well…

The Clown and the Circus Bear

So everything had been perfect.

Owen had felt genuinely happy. He thought Tom was fucking adorable, he wanted to kiss him, wanted to fuck him.

The moment on the hill with him was definitely something he would always cherish, always remember. This deep feeling of affection combined with this immense tension, the thrill, this feeling that yes, the other felt the same, wanted the same…

And as fucking frustrating as it was that they were interrupted and didn’t kiss, he had loved that, too. It was like being in a cheesy movie where the tension was ramped up yet again with a cheap director’s trick.

He took a deep breath.

But now this.

It had been like this before.

Sometimes when he was genuinely happy, he would suddenly get this fear of losing everything. Like he wasn’t allowed to be this happy. So the happier he got, the more likely he was to crash.

And this morning he had crashed, and crashed hard.

A dark cloud of thick cotton already surrounded him, numbing and suffocating him. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He had managed to get through the day and pretend everything was fine. But now he was on set at this birthday party of Natasha's and he felt completely out of place, like he didn’t belong here. Everyone around him was laughing too loud, talking too loud and he just wanted to get away from it all.

Of course, after yesterday on the hill, everything was pointing towards him and Tom kissing tonight. Because why not. They should have fun at this party and then at some point.... kiss... right?

And it was that very expectation that caused Owen to crash.

The excitement that he had felt yesterday was gone. Instead there was this fear of somehow not meeting the expectations, of doing something wrong that would destroy everything.

He hated it.

Knowing that this was just some kind of sick mechanism in his head and he wasn’t able to do anything about it. He hated feeling like shit when this happened, but he bit his tongue and just smiled through the pain.

He saw Tom talking to people, saw him searching for eye contact with him, beaming at him, winking at him but Owen avoided him, always went somewhere else, far away from him. He felt a twinge in his chest at each smile sent his way and he finally couldn't do it anymore, so he disappeared behind some backdrops and got to the areas that were only illuminated with emergency lights.

He had always loved that. Wandering through abandoned, dimly lit sets. He loved the atmosphere it created. But now he was just enjoying the darkness and a break away from all these laughing people.

With a big sigh he sat down on the steps in the TVA interrogation room, resting his arms on his drawn knees, and closed his eyes.

Why the fuck…!

He didn’t want this.

He just wanted to be happy.

He had been happy.

So what was wrong with him?

Why had he to be like that?

He really hated himself.

He wanted to drown this feeling in alcohol but he couldn’t risk falling even deeper.

To think about his kids in these situations sometimes helped. Sometimes it made it worse, made him think he was the worst dad of all.

Since he had come to Atlanta to work on `Loki´ everything had been so good this far.

Even his current sleeping problems had stopped. He had felt calm. Content. Confident.

Meeting Tom was one of the best things that had happened to him lately. He felt good in his presence. Safe. It was something he hadn’t expected. So he had cherished the time he had spent with Tom on and off set as something really special.

And working on `Loki´ had been a blessing, too. The script was crap if he was honest. But due to that they had so much fun, so much freedom to try things out, to improvise, to just see what they came up with and it gave him the urge to write again. If it was for him, he would already do prequels, sequels and spin-offs with Mobius. He just loved it. He loved playing Mobius.

It really had done him so damn good.

Owen contorted his face.

So why?

Just why the fuck had it to be like this?

He heard someone coming.

Saw Tom looking for him…

With a bottle of beer in his hand. With a concerned look on his face.

“Hey…”

With his fucking soft voice that Owen loved so much.

“Everything alright? I don’t… I don’t want to bother you when you want to be alone. I was just… worried.”

Being as sweet and caring and polite as always.

And it hurt Owen deep down in his chest.

“No.. no, you don’t. I just… “ He didn��t know what to say.

He just knew that he didn’t want Tom to leave.

“Can I sit down?” Tom asked carefully.

Yes, please. “Sure.”

So Tom sat down next to him, looking at him with big questioning eyes.

Yeah.. he should probably explain something.

“I’m sorry… Tom.” Owen began. “I…”

He hated it. “I’m a mess...”

But Tom just looked at him compassionately and waited, so Owen continued.

“I… have problems… sometimes.. mental problems… So I get sad sometimes… when I’m supposed to be… happy… when I am happy… It is some kind of dysfunction in my head. Like.. Well, like the happy clown gets sad…”

He sighed.

“And I’m really sorry… Because I guess.. you have expected something else… tonight… But I’m not good for you… I guess, I’m not good for anybody when I’m like this…”

Tom squinted his eyes and pressed his lips together as if he was disagreeing but trying not to say anything. So Owen emphasized his point.

“I just can’t… give you what you want. I wish I could. But I just can’t.”

He shook his head and looked down at the floor because he just didn’t know why he actually couldn’t.

“I know this is hard to understand…” He knew how fucking stupid this all sounded. Why don’t you just do it if you want to? What’s the problem? They always say…

He closed his eyes, feeling ashamed of himself.

“I do understand…” he heard Tom say softly.

Owen lifted his head to look at him. He was looking right back at him, with so much compassion in his eyes, and he continued speaking. Quietly.

“Well, I don’t know… I mean everybody feels different, everybody has different… problems.. challenges… I don’t get sad when I’m happy.. But I do know what the sad side of a clown feels like… or actually more the sad side of a circus bear… which I am… Or was… I don’t know…”

Owen had to laugh a little at that. “Tom, the circus bear… Sounds like a cute children’s book.”

Tom smiled. “Yeah… . I don’t know. Maybe it’s some kind of ADHD,” he shrugged his shoulders, “… but I’ve always done what people wanted me to do. And people wanted me to do really stupid things… . And I just did them. I loved the attention, I loved being liked… and to be loved… so I did more and more without really knowing why… And it really took me a long time to realize that…" he looked at the ceiling lost in thoughts, "I have worked constantly for 6 years in a row… I’ve sort of done every movie they offered me.. I have no idea how many interviews I gave during that time… how many stupid things I did… and all that just to not sit in that bear cage after the show…. And feel lonely and redundant…”

Owen felt his heart ache hearing all this. He didn't dare to breathe, didn't want to break this fragile bubble that they had somehow built here.

“And at some point I really lost it, I got so tired of it all… But you’re stuck in this wheel … " Tom’s hand made a circle," and you don’t know how to get out of it… I didn’t know who I am or what I wanted…” he sighed and nibbled at the label of his bottle. “I think I’m better now. Know how to take all this. But this doesn’t make me immune, you know. It will always be there…”

He took a deep breath, straightening up his back and looking directly at Owen.

“I’m sorry… I don’t want to be whining here.. I just want you to know that I know how it feels to be sad… when from the outside looking in... it seems that you don’t have any reason to.”

Owen was deeply touched.

“Thank you…” he whispered. “Thank you for telling me…”

Tom gave him a reassuring look.

And then he got this Hang-on-I-have-to-think-about-something look on his face.

Owen loved thinking-Tom.

Watching Tom think always made Owen feel like a little kid at Christmas that couldn’t wait to see what was in the box. A quote? An adorable metaphor?

“So… If you’re unhappy because you were happy…” Tom began.

And Owen immediately loved how Tom had changed his voice to a more chatty and juvenile tone.

“It’s sounds quite awful when I have to think that I am the one making you unhappy, so I’m going to reverse it: You being unhappy … does it mean that you like me… ” he gave Owen a challenging look. “…a little more… than a little?”

Owen laughed. He shrugged his shoulders mockingly and showed a little space between his thumb and his index finger. “Yeah.. maybe a little more.”

But Tom didn’t seem to mind the mockery because he looked at Owen severely and said - in his soft voice again -, “I can wait then.”

Owen didn’t know what to feel, he smiled a small smile but it came from deep in his heart and he hoped Tom would notice.

“Thank you.”

Somehow he wished Tom would just grab him and kiss him.

But it wouldn’t be Tom if he crossed the line. It wouldn’t be Tom if he didn’t respect him and his condition.

And as much as Owen wished he would cross it, it showed him two things.

One, that Tom was even more damn lovable.

And two, that he himself was the one who needed to free himself out of there. Nobody else could.

But he was determined to do it.

He had to get better soon, if for no other reason than he could finally kiss Tom. His favorite Brit with his nonexistent lips.

And now, now he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Tom. Held him close. And he was fucking glad that he could do it.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered.

“Don’t feel bad about it…,” Tom whispered back. “I want you to know that I don’t expect anything... And just as you are, you are good for me.”

Tom’s word were soothing, his voice was soothing, Tom was soothing. Like he had been from the start.

“Thank you,” Owen said again and because he couldn’t resist, he added, “my little circus bear.”

Tom snorted. “Don’t! Just don’t!”

Owen grinned. “Yeah, I thought you are more of a pussycat anyway.”

And even he knew it would take some time before he felt right again, before he felt carefree again, he was fucking glad.

That Tom had somehow turned this fucking sad situation in something lighter and beautiful.

And that Tom had shown him a spark at the end of a hopefully not so long tunnel.

#hiddlewow #widdlewow #tom hiddleston/owen wilson #rpf #the fool on the hill #chapter 7

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 5 years ago

Text

Illicit affairs -Prologue

General Summary: y/n stark returns after she escaped New York & peter’s rather anxious to see her after what happened between them. But neither fury or tony care about it and assign a mission to them: capture black cat and kingpin. Should be easy right? No, lol. While y/n and peter try to navigate their new “friendship” and try work together to capture kingpin, y/n gets tangled with one pretty felicia hardy and peter doesn’t like it at all. Jealousy doesn’t suit peter or y/n, secret meetings are a must, partying too and even a couple of hookups; everything to save the world, right?

Summary: y/n comes back from spending one year and a half in Europe for a mission, peter’s nervous as hell for her return and tony is not having any of their shit, so instead of buying an oversize “get-along-shirt” he decides to place them in a “get-along-mission”.

Listen to: Dreams - Fleetwood Mac and Illicit affairs - Taylor Swift

word count: 7.7k

(author’s note at the end now)

series masterlist

Peter stared at the entrance of the Compound, hands in the pockets of his jeans with an absent expression drawn on his face. He could hear all the steps of people walking on the compound and he recognized there were far more than what he had gotten used to in one year and a half.

He remembered how much he had craved the same activity as before, to see his mentors but especially to see you. But now he was panicking, his thoughts were screaming for him to leave before anything could go wrong but still every nerve on his body was pulling him into the compound and he knew the reason. He still couldn’t really process how much his heart still ache to see you again, even after you had been gone all this time without any type of contact.

But it wasn’t a surprise that you had been avoiding him.

He knew he had told Tony about what had happened between the two of you and he was sure that you had told him your version of events. But it still seemed like Tony didn’t remember when he had called Peter earlier in the day, he had a mission for him and needed him on the compound with the whole team.

“The whole team?”

“Yeah, they came back yesterday”

Peter froze midway on his walk to another building on campus for his next class, since he had decided to double major in biophysics and electronic engineering. Tony had dismissed his long pause as he explained the logistics of the meeting and how he could have Happy pick him up if he wanted, Peter didn’t respond and simply by omission agreed for Happy to do it, although he had his car.

After the call, the rest of the day had been a blur until Happy called him to tell him he was in front of the main campus of Columbia waiting for him. Peter didn’t talk on the ride to the compound and hadn’t even checked in with anyone else in his life.

He was only focused on what would it be to see you again.

It was Peter’s first time on Stark Tower after Tony had made him go on a mission regarding Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and Germany. Peter had returned from Germany for about a week when he finally got his call for him to go visit Stark Tower and Peter had been more than excited to go.

“So kid, this is how it’ll work”, Tony explained to him as the door opened to a spacious metallic, modern industrial looking floor that blinded Peter for a second. “There are four different labs here: we have my lab, which is obviously the biggest, Bruce’s lab for when he decides to pay us a visit, Keener’s lab and my daughter’s lab over there”

Peter had been stuck a bit when Tony mentioned someone named Keener since Peter didn’t know anything about anyone else working with them, but everything was washed away when he remembered you.

It hadn’t always been known that Tony Stark had a kid, you had lived with your mother until she had passed away when you were about five years old and it had been kept a well-hidden secret until Tony was kidnapped. Obadiah Stane had, unfortunately, decided that it would appeal to Tony’s kidnappers’ emotions that his own child would ask for his return. Pepper had been against it, but Stane hadn’t listened and then the world knew about you.

Since then, the media had been in a frenzy about Tony’s Stark daughter and they didn’t stop, although there wasn’t much, they could get out of you. The main things the world knew about you were that you had left a private school in Malibu when Tony became Ironman and had been homeschooled since you had the same brain as your father and were most likely a super-genius, you got to go to events sometimes regarding Stark’s Industries and, most importantly, you were a member of The Avengers.

“Dad, where are the blueprints of the exoskeleton?”, a silvery voice asked, coming from your lab and then it followed with your presence.

Peter was in awe as he took you in. Peter noticed your smile first, it was so warm that it melted him inside when he noticed how well it go with your bright y/e/c eyes. They seemed like galaxies for him, he also noticed your long hair, much longer than the last time Peter had seen on the paparazzi pictures. But what made him smile even more was that you were on leggings and a light blue sweatshirt, looking like a normal teenager but with goggles on, soldering iron on one hand, and a hologram of your suit in the other.

You were so focused on the design that you were too close when you finally raised your head from the hologram and stopped dead on your tracks when you noticed Peter.

“Darling, meet Peter Parker”, Tony announced as he patted Peter on the back and pulled him towards your direction. “Parker, meet my daughter”

When you looked up, your gaze linked up with those chocolate light eyes with golden specks and you immediately smiled, knowing exactly who he was.

“Hi- Hi, what…” Peter’s words stumbled against one another, “I’m Peter”

Peter seemed small and timid, he even looked younger than what you actually thought he was. The freckles that adorned his face didn’t help him look older either but they looked like a constellation, they were accompanied by chocolate curls that fell on his forehead and framed his face perfectly.

“Lovely to meet you Spiderman”, you replied playfully.

Peter smiled back and after that, you were smitten.

As time passed you got closer and closer, you were the youngest on the team so it wasn’t a surprise for any of the other avengers that you had finally found a partner and were sticking together.

Peter felt like a breeze of fresh air as he stood in front of you with his new suit on the compound trying it while you cheered for him along with your father. Peter was everything you hope for someone to be outside of your main circle that mainly contained The Avengers, Pepper, and Tony. He was brave, intelligent, loyal, and, most importantly, he was the kindest person that you had ever met.

And Peter, he didn’t even doubt for a second that he needed you in his life, you were sunshine for him. When you worked together on your suit and helped you train to adjust to it, he was completely amazed by your intelligence and discipline. But mostly, it was your warmth and sensitivity, your ability to notice things that most wouldn’t, and your compassion were things that made him fall for you.

But nothing could be so good, nothing came that easy to anyone and the way that you had parted ways broke both of your hearts.

“Aren’t you gonna come in?”, Happy asked Peter as he passed by him and began climbing the stairs to the main entrance.

Peter sighed as he followed Happy inside, the compound had always seemed to be larger than life itself when he had visited it for the first time but with you, it soon felt like a second home for Peter. The last few moments that you’ve had together before you walked away from each other, you had spent almost every waking free moment in there, even using your rooms more there than in the city. But after you left, he had decided to spent less time in the compound, not that it was easier to spend his time in Stark’s tower, but the compound had become such your place that he had been avoiding it as much as he could after it.

He shuddered at the thought of you walking again through those hallways but giving him the same glare, you had given him the last time that you had seen each other. It haunted him until this day, how your eyes were swimming with resentment and how you had walked away from him.

“Peter”, Steve’s voice woke up Peter from his thoughts and quickly embraced him in a tight hug, Peter smiled into it and embraced Steve back.

“Captain”, he answered amuse as they let go of each other. Peter was surprised by Steve’s new beard and longer hair, he didn’t look anything like before he went, he seemed more badass than before. “Trying to copy Thor?”

See, although Peter had become a kind of surrogate son for Tony, Steve was still really involved with Peter since he saw a lot of himself in small Peter, especially after meeting him in Germany and getting to know him when they finally came back. And Peter really appreciated having Steve as another father figure as well, mostly because he was a closer take on Uncle Ben than what Tony was.

“Yeah, I got that from y/n already”, Steve chuckled as he walked with Peter towards the conference room.

Peter flinched at the sound of your name and Steve noticed it right away.

“She doesn’t hate you”, Steve stated as they reached the door, Peter could already hear your voice and he felt like he was going to be sick, his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest at any given moment and he closed his eyes as he remembered your last conversation. “She would never”

But Peter believed otherwise.

“I can’t wait to see your friends again!”, you squealed as you walked through the cold streets of New York with Peter by your side while he smiled and tightened the hold on your hand.

Flash had organized a rather impromptu “almost New Year’s” party, he would’ve done a real New Year’s party but he knew that all of his friends had their commitments so, there he was three days before New Year throwing out a real rave.

Although you had never attended Midtown, you had become good friends with Ned, Betty, MJ, and Flash. Peter’s friends had always been so special to you, that you had thrown them your own goodbye party before they had left for college six months before. Ned had gotten to MIT, MJ studied in Columbia just like Peter while Betty had gone to Harvard and Flash had chosen to leave the east coast, he went to Berkley.

“Ned and Betty are going to be so happy to see you, sometimes I think they like you more than me”, Peter replied as he recalled how much he had missed his friends. He had spent time with MJ and facetime was a must on the weekends, nonetheless, he had also tried to make new friends during the semester and he had even invited some over to Flash’s party.

“That’s a lie, but I’ll take it”, you said with a shrug as Peter turned around to smile at you.

“Who wouldn’t love you?”, Peter stated as he watched you intently, your eyes link and you began to feel your heart ticking like a bomb, soon you looked away to the street, quickly changing the topic.

Mostly, this semester had brought you even closer. Peter spent more time on the compound than on his dorm room, so much that he even walked in on a naked Otto (his new roommate) since he hadn’t expected Peter to return to their dorm last week.

Your days were spent patrolling, training, on your lab or your room, not even on Peter’s who was given a room a year prior by Tony. It was quite an awesome achievement since you had been taking some classes at MIT while also interning for Tony and Pepper, both of them. Peter didn’t know how you managed to do all of that and spent as much time as you did together, but you thought the same since he was going full-time to college and also working on his Spiderman duties.

But you did, you and Peter had arranged everything in your life, you juggled every responsibility as much as you could so you could see each other. If it meant getting fewer hours of sleep, flying from Boston to New York the same day, even if it meant wearing your suit to fly, although Pepper disapproved.

He had even spent a couple of nights in your room, sleeping together after late nights on the streets.

“I’ve been waiting to go to a party since forever”, you gushed as you climbed the elevator to Flash’s while Peter helped you remove your long black coat, revealing a black silky dress. Peter watched your body slowly, his gaze dropped down to one of your legs that were exposed by the slit on it and then to your exposed back. Peter gulped as you turned around and fixed your hair. “You are going to save me a dance, right?”, you continued as you batter your eyelashes in a show of mock innocence.

But Peter’s smile slowly slid off his face as he felt how his cheeks were burning with a slight blush as you searched for his eyes. He knew you were mocking him; he knew you weren’t possibly serious because there was no way that you, Y/N Stark, were actually flirting with him.

“Su-sure”, he muttered as his eyes connected to yours.

But the thing was that you weren’t kidding.

You weren’t completely sure when your relationship with Peter had shifted, you had always been close to Peter and you cared about him, a lot more than sometimes you thought it was healthy or normal for best friends. But it was the first night that he had decided to spend the night in your room, you had been tired since you had stopped more crimes than what you had expected and the criminals were far harder to defeat than the usual petty burglars.

That night you had talked about everything. You had begun light and playful, with Peter picking you up as you recall how you had managed to defeat a couple of guys who were trying to steal an ATM. You had laughed at Peter’s goofy narration of events while you played with his hair. But then, after a few laughs, you remain silent for a couple of minutes, watching each other.

You didn’t know what compelled you, but after a few minutes on that night, you hit each other with the hardest things in your life and how you were struggling with it.

You had told him about your deepest fear of not being good enough, how you were actually struggling mentally with your responsibilities but also hating yourself for not doing enough in your eyes, for not being the best version of yourself that you had to imagine you would be, for not being the perfect girl everyone thought you were. How sometimes you resented Tony because everyone was expecting so much from you but it also felt like you were going to explode if you didn’t stop. How sometimes you wished you could rebel and get away from whatever image they had from you.

And it was a complete surprise when Peter had told you that he understood. He had revealed, after so many years of friendship, what had really happened with his Uncle Ben; how he had selfishly decided to let a criminal go since he was just stealing some food and then how the same burglar had shot Uncle Ben without a second thought when he had tried to stop him. He felt so morally responsible for Uncle Ben's death that Peter had saved up so much anger inside of him that when he captured the man, he had almost killed him. No one knew about it, no one knew that Peter could hold such anger in him and everyone thought he was just this harmless boy, that could do no wrong or that had never experienced the weight of emotions, how they could drown you.

He showed you his scars and you showed him yours.

You saw each other at your best and your worst.

And your bond became stronger before you even realized it yourself, you knew you were in love with Peter Parker and, although you weren’t sure, you thought he loved you too.

“Peter?”, a fruity voice snapped you both out of the trance.

You turned around to see Gwen Stacy, the petite friend of MJ and Peter at Columbia. You remembered her since you had met her a few times when you drove Peter to college. She was a science major and usually a study buddy for Peter whenever he had to miss class because of his Spiderman responsibilities. She was also way too beautiful; she was blonde with a short blunt bob perfectly framing her face and her sapphire green eyes.

“Gwen!”, Peter said playfully to her. As he exited the elevator with your coat in hand while you cleared your throat, irritation showing its awful head on your heart as you watched him hugging Gwen and the way Gwen pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

When Peter pulled away, he smiled at her and you felt your face dropping.

“Y/N, come!”, Peter said softly as you exited the elevator with an absent expression.

The rest of the evening was okay, you had spent time with Betty and Ned, dancing along with MJ, and even had managed to drag Peter to the dance floor although he had refused at first. Flash had been flirting with you non-stop since he saw you with that dress, to the point that Peter had shot him a glare or two before he stopped. If Peter was being honest, he believed to only have eyes for you that night but your mood had changed since you had arrived and he was clueless as to why.

You hadn’t said anything but he knew your body language enough, almost by second nature, to realize that you were tense and nervous. He could feel your heart raising its beat each time he got closer to you but he also noticed how your muscles tensed up when things got too quiet, at least that’s what he thought.

The thing was that you were annoyed because, at every turn, Gwen Stacy was there talking to Peter or flirting with him, you decided to stay quiet because you weren’t in the mood to fight with someone.

“It’s everything okay?”, Peter asked as he met you in one of the large windows of Flash’s penthouse, watching New York.

You turned around to watch Peter, his wild chocolate curls were controlled by the gel that he had decided to put earlier that evening at your place, he was wearing nice elegant pants with loafers and an open white shirt that fitted him perfectly. He looked perfect for you and you couldn’t help but blush when he got closer to you.

“I’m okay, I just…”, you muttered and the words dissolute in the air, not wanting to finish the sentence.

You weren’t okay but you didn’t know if it was a good time to say so, it wasn’t Peter’s fault that Gwen was interested in him, but it was exasperating that he hadn’t said anything about her advantages. Still, what infuriated you more was your attitude, you weren’t usually afraid of many things and you took pride in that but every time you wanted to yell to Peter that you loved him, nothing came out.

“Y/N…”, Peter asked you as he placed his hand on the small of your back, in a comforting way.

His eyes were searching yours as you licked your lips nervously. But soon, the fear was too much, it overwhelmed you so badly that you stubbornly looked away, glaring at the city.

“I’ll be right back”, you answer and quickly got yourself loose from his hold and walked away, leaving a confused Peter behind.

You felt out of breath when you got to the bathroom and quickly shut the door. As you saw yourself in the mirror you realized how angry you felt, you glared at yourself and cursed under your breath, quickly closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, before you opened them again.

“Get your shit together and just tell him already”, you growled.

You loathed yourself at that exact second, you hated feeling so weak and that the feeling of not telling Peter was eating you alive. It was time to get it over with, you knew Peter, you knew him like the back of your hand and he wouldn’t hurt you, right? He could never hurt you; he was your Peter Parker, angry and sweet, for good or for bad, you knew him. And if he did feel the same way as you did, then it would all be worth it.

You smiled at the thought of you and Peter together, like you had wished for a while now and everything seemed to work. Tony had even mentioned something about it the week before and how he would be totally happy if you had feelings for Peter, which you hadn’t denied to him but hadn’t accepted either to him.

So, you exited the bathroom with new energy flowing through your body, you wanted to tell Peter how you had fallen for him, how you wanted to feel his lips against yours one more time, how you wanted for him to hold you as he did but now with your feelings out in the open.

You wanted him.

You walked through the party, searching for the boy with chocolate eyes and golden specks, without minding your friends who had an almost uncomfortable look on their faces but then you saw it….

Peter who you were in love with, Peter that you saw as your one and only, Peter that you had opened yourself to for so many years and the guy who you believed belong with you was with Gwen Stacy, tangled in an embrace as they kissed each other. She was cupping his face sweetly as he had his arms around her torso, their mouths dancing as if they were the only two people on the planet.

You stared at them in shock.

Everything seemed to shatter into a million pieces. Everything. The late-night talks. The laughs and giggles. The holding hands. The missions together. The time you spend in the lab. The gazes lock in together. The trust.

It wasn’t only until they finished that Peter turned around and watched you in shock.

You turned around without a word and fled, no one could stop you, not even MJ who tried to take a hold of your hand which you brushed off.

You were sure that in that second, you were able to hear your heartbreaking like it was glass, as you hurriedly tried to look for your coat in Flash’s room as fast as you could. You wished that you had brought your suit but you had decided to leave it for the night since the plan had been going back to Stark’s Tower with Peter.

You felt so stupid.

“Y/N!”, you could hear Peter shouting behind you while you look for your coat as quickly as you could but it seemed lost with the rest of the clothes that were on Flash’s bed.

You stopped as you heard the door closing, you closed your eyes and waited for him to say anything. You hoped that maybe Peter would tell you that Gwen had just gone for it and that it was a mistake, something, anything, that would negate what you had just seen.

But he stayed quiet and as each second pass, you felt hot rage bubbled up within your chest.

“Since when?”

“What?”, Peter asked, his voice was small and confused.

“Since when have you had feelings for Gwen?”, you repeated. “It was since you met her? Was it since Halloween? I want to know”

“Y/N-”

“Tell me Peter or I swear to god!”, you shouted, spinning around and fixing Peter with a sharp glare, so full of loathing and pain, that Peter felt like it pierced right through him.

He didn’t understand your rage, he didn’t understand why you had run away after you had seen him with Gwen. He couldn’t even phantom that you had feelings for him like he did for you, it had been a dream for him that you felt the same way that he felt at the same moment that he met you. But years had passed and Peter believed that being the confident woman that you were, there wasn’t a way that you hadn’t already told him how you felt.

“She begun flirting with me since we met, it wasn’t…”, Peter cleared his throat, meeting your gaze steadily. “It wasn’t planned, she just confessed her feelings for me and you like her too! She’s nice and sweet, she’s smart and I…”

You closed your eyes in pain as you heard Peter’s words.

Your eyes welled with tears as you shook your heart in disbelief, you felt as if your heart was being torn apart. Realizing that all the things that you were worried about were the truth.

“I’m so stupid”, you whispered to yourself.

Peter furrowed his eyes and he tried to get closer but you flinched.

It hurt.

“Why are you stupid, y/n?”, Peter asked in a gruff voice, he watched you intently because he knew you well enough to know that you were hiding something from him and if it was what Peter was really thinking, then he needed to know.

But you didn’t answer. You didn’t even want to look at his face any longer, you felt cripple by a broken heart and, in such an uncharacteristic manner, you wished for a second that he could feel the same pain that you were feeling.

“Y/N?”

“Leave me alone, Parker”, you spat as if his name was poison while your eyes narrowed angrily.

It stung more than what Peter wanted to admit as he stared at you for a moment., The way that you had said his name, made him shuddered and tears began to well in his eyes too. He could hear your harshened breaths growing shallow and how you were fighting to keep your tears at bay.

He wanted to stop you but you raced out of the apartment without looking back once. You ran down the snowy sidewalks, running and running in your high heels until you couldn’t see clearly because of your tears. You had kept right on running until you managed to get into the elevator of Stark Tower and you collapsed, sobbing like you hadn’t in your life.

“Dad! Pepper!”

Tony and Pepper had come out running from different parts of the apartment when they saw you on the floor of the elevator.

“Y/N! What’s wrong?”, Pepper said in alarm, as she tried to kneel but her baby bump wouldn’t let her.

But you couldn’t say anything, your sobs wouldn’t let you modulate words as you simply raised from the elevator and clutched her tighter while Tony hugged both of you from behind.

Peter entered the conference room and it was full of avengers, sometimes he still couldn’t believe that it was his life after so many years of working with them, inside the team. But the thought quickly dissipated as his eyes searched for you. It wasn’t too difficult to find you, since everyone was already sitting down, he and Steve were the last ones that had arrived and Fury was already standing up at the edge of the table alongside Tony.

He gave a small wave to Wanda, Bucky, and Sam who had been in the mission with you, Harley gave him an uninterested look which he had ignored because he was permanently annoyed at Harley’s attitude and then he found you sitting beside him, looking absentmindedly whirling your straw around in your drink.

You had changed and it was for good. Your long, long hair was now cut short and it reached a little bit below your shoulders. Your face had become more defined and the pup fat that Peter sometimes bothered you with by pinching your cheeks was gone, now you had sharper cheeks and jaw. You weren’t dressed in sweats like you used to dress before for anything that didn’t involve a party but now you were wearing a turtle knitted sweater that framed your body perfectly with white mom jeans.

You seemed to have grown.

Peter walked up to you and seated himself in the chair across from you, clearing his throat and snapping you out of your little trance. You blinked in surprise and stared at him, looking a little caught off guard.

He looked taller and more fit than before, he had grown into the confident persona that you knew he had deep inside of him, you could tell by the way he was looking at you. But those chocolate eyes with golden specks hadn’t change one bit and neither the constellation of freckles that adorned his face, the ones you loved to trace when you were helping him relax. He was still wearing what he usually wore since the time you met him, except he had dropped the nerdy t-shirts that had been a staple of him during high school, and now he had a white plain t-shirt that combined well with his simple jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt.

But, even if he looked that good, nothing had changed between the two of you.

“How’s Gwen?”, you asked sarcastically as Peter huffed in annoyance.

Peter had tried to reach you for days; he had even intended to go to Stark Tower the day after the fact but Aunt May had fallen ill with a bad cold so he decided to stay with her. But it didn’t stop him from making about a thousand calls to your phone, at night he even wondered if he should call Tony but he was afraid about the fallout of your fight, he knew that Tony wouldn’t change who he was with him but Peter also knew that he would protect you no matter what and if it that meant hiding you from Peter, he would do it.

So, it wasn’t a surprise when Tony didn’t answer either.

Peter couldn’t sleep for days as he stared at his ceiling in silence, replaying the scene in Flash’s room over and over again, your face filled with pain and rage was something that he hadn’t seen. Not even when you were fighting criminals, like the Vulture. And it didn’t help his sleeping situation that Gwen hadn’t stopped texting either.

After you had left the party, Gwen had managed to catch Peter before he reached the elevator and had talked to him about what had happened, she had held him as he cried about you but he decided not to say anything too specific about your fight. Gwen had been there for him and he appreciated, they hadn’t kiss anymore that night but she had been checking in on him, being as sweet as she had always been and Peter was happy? Yes, he was happy that he had someone he could talk to that was there for him since it seemed like even his friends were upset with him too.

But Gwen was not you.

May got better after a couple of days, so, without many hours of sleep, Peter decided to show up at Stark Tower. He hoped that he could talk to you and finally explained what had happened that night, Peter somehow hoped that you would tell him what he wished for but he believed you were far away from that. Still, his only hope was to see you again and talk, say something that could bring you back together.

The elevator opened to the penthouse and it seemed like it was lonelier than what he was expecting. It was late in the morning, so Peter had figured out that you had been already working out since it was your usual routine but he couldn’t hear your heart beating. Peter walked towards the kitchen and hoped that you were already having breakfast and that he had simply missed it but when he arrived, only Tony was there.

Tony turned around and froze as he munched on some berries that he had in his hand.

“What are you doing here, kid?”

Peter nibbled on his bottom lip and he could feel his hands starting to sweat, he quickly placed them in his pockets as he walked towards the island kitchen, “I need to talk to y/n, Mr. Stark please”

It sounded wobblier than Peter had hoped to but it was sincere enough that Tony sighed and relaxed his tense muscles. “She’s not here, kid”, he said as he shook his head, “She’s gone”

“What do you mean?”, Peter asked once more as he got closer to Tony, panic swimming in his eyes.

Tony walked towards Peter and he placed a hand on his shoulder, he squeezed it. “I’m sorry Peter”

“Tony, where is she?”, Peter glared, shooting a look up at Tony who shook his head, as he looked sideways to Peter.

“She left for a mission”, Tony explained to him while Peter turned around to face him, brows bumped together in confusion, he didn’t recall that you had been assigned a mission on the last meeting. “The one in Europe and Asian, she went with Steve, Nat, Bucky, Wanda, and Sam”

Peter felt his stomach sinking because he remembered when Fury and Steve had disclosed the mission: One year at least on the East of Europe and in Asia, locating Hydra Nests to finalize the threat on countries where they could do the most damage. They had decided to pick Steve, Nat, Bucky, Wanda, and Sam because they were the most experienced ones and it was a dangerous mission, they had to be very careful since they were mostly acting undercover because the government didn’t want them there. It was a real possibility for someone to die, more chances than what they usually faced.

“What?”

Peter repeated the same words as he responded to your sarcastic comment, Harley snickering under his hand while you simply gave Peter a phony smile. It was clear that you weren’t really over what had happened a year and a half ago and why should you? Peter was still dating Gwen, as your father had let you know as soon as you got home. You had still hope that nothing had actually happened between them and although it was a longshot, you still wanted to believe that maybe Peter had waited.

But he didn’t and it burned again as if your past feelings, that you thought you had left behind when you climbed the quinjet to Europe, were filling you once more.

Peter’s face turned into a scowl as he watched your attitude and Harley’s. You had changed personality-wise too and he felt frustration growing inside of him. He had hoped that when you came back you had forgotten whatever your reason was to fight with him, he hoped that you would simply fall back into your friendship and that nothing had really changed between the two of you.

But you didn’t and Peter felt confused, he felt confused because it wasn’t fair. It had been almost two years and you were still filled with resentment.

“Mrs. Stark, Mr. Paker”, Fury’s gravelly voice snapped you both out of your glares. “Can we start?”

The rest of the meeting continue without much trouble, Steve and Nat where in charge of the debrief of your mission and how successfully you had eradicated Hydra nests in the areas that you went but there were different countries that you hadn’t reached, even in a year and a half there was a lot to be done yet. You had talked about how you were helping the different towns or areas that had been affected by Hydra’s activities, how the crime rates had gone down after you managed to intervene and how you had left them different programs so they could introduce to their governments.

Peter had been gazing at you as you continue to tell about your time there, he saw the gleam on your eyes when you were talking about the different ways you had helped people but when you finished your eyes locked again but you looked away from Peter with your chin high and Peter did the same. Each one refusing to look at the other when you intervened in the meeting any further. Although it didn’t work, because you could still feel your heartbeat skipping a beat and couldn’t help the tugging on the sides of your smile when he was talking about how he had defeated the Scorpion four months ago and how the crime rates in Queens had gone down because of it.

But more than that, neither of you tried to face the other.

At least until Fury was updating you on a next mission.

“After that, you would be able to pass through Moldavia, and then it would be easy to reach Kosovo. You’ll arrive in Pristina where people will be waiting for you, it’s going to be shorter than the last but they are being seriously affected by the Hydra activity”, Fury finished explaining as he was turned around from the hologram that showed the route. “The mission has been assigned to-”

“I want to go!”, you suddenly babbled, a hand up in the air with excitement while Wanda gave you a thumbs up from afar in another seat.

Fury rolled his eyes.

“We have a problem here, y/n”, Tony said, nudging one of the files that Fury had in front of him. “There have been some robberies through New York, more importantly, on the last month or so Hammer Industries and Oscorp Industries have been raided”

“Well, Peter can handle it, can’t he?”, you drawled, as you gave Peter a look with a pout on your face.

Peter wanted to be flattered, you thinking that he could handle a threat was nice but he suspected it was coming from the fact that you clearly wanted to get out of New York too and, especially, far away from him.

“I haven’t been able to catch her”, Peter muttered as he answered with a timid look.

“Her?”, you asked, a slight frown on your face as you gazed at Peter who had his shoulders slumped and tried to avoid your gaze. You still knew him; you still knew his body language and there was something that was bothering him.

“Black Cat”, Fury answered as he threw the file to your place and you opened it quickly.

The first thing your eyes focused on was a picture of her, on what you believe was Hammer thanks to the tech. It wasn’t a good photo; you could only white hair wrapped up in a tall ponytail and her black leather costume. She looked good, from what you could see, but it wasn’t much either way thanks to the quality of the camera.

“Hammer should really change its security camera provider”, you drawled as you checked the file. “What about the Oscorp security video? Doesn’t he have one of those?”

“You should know how paranoic Norman is, he didn’t want to give us any footage”, Tony explained as you continued to read whatever information was in the file, but there wasn’t much.

The one interesting thing was the number of abilities she had: extremely superhuman reflexes, agility, and the stamina of an Olympic level acrobat. She knew martial arts from what they had found from the fights that she had and was able to incapacitate her assailants without getting injured.

“Peter, don’t you have footage of her? We can scan her fighting pattern and search for weaknesses”, you suggested as you closed the file and pushed it back to Fury’s place.

But Peter remained silent.

“Peter?”, you asked and you turned around to face him, a dour look drawn on his face and you felt your eye twitching as you realized what he did.

“I…”, Peter began as he felt the glares of Fury and you.

“Please, tell me you didn’t deactivate your baby monitor program”

“I deactivated my baby monitor”, Peter answer quietly.

The way that you slapped your own face managed to make Harley jumped as all of the others looked up to you slightly alarmed. Sam’s face even twisted in a way as he mouthed a small ‘ouch’.

“How can you be so stupid!?”, you shouted at Peter, your hand still on your face and frustration bubbling on your chest.

Everyone stayed silent as their gazes traced back to Peter’s blinking expression, his eyes wide as a plate and a slight blush appearing on his cheeks from the embarrassment. Peter remembered when you lashed out, it wasn’t often and you mostly got angry at yourself when you didn’t manage to accomplish something, but not to a lot of people.

“Here we go”, Bucky muttered, as if he already knew what was about to unfold.

“I was tired of Tony reviewing all my footage, there was private stuff sometimes in there!”, Peter stammered, the high pitch in his voice making it obvious he was a bit nervous but the glare in his eyes dripped annoyance.

“What? Were you using your suit to web Gwen’s hands in bed?”, you scoffed, rolling your eyes. Tony immediately shot you an annoyed look as Harley, Sam and Bucky burst into laughs while Steve and Fury crossed their arms on their chest, as Nat, Wanda, Bruce and Vision had their mouths wide open in surprise.

“Why are you being so unbearable?”, Peter snapped but he quickly shut his mouth, not wanting to say more.

He could feel the anger bubbling up in his chest and his cheeks getting warmer and warmer with each second. Yes, he had turned off his baby monitor program because Gwen had asked him so. No, he wasn’t tying her hands in bed but he was pinning her under him while wearing the suit, it seemed like she was keen on it, but that wasn’t the point that should be brought up in an avengers meeting. He lingered for a moment, wondering if he should go off at you as he stared at you: blush cheeks, narrowed eyes but there was a gleam in your eyes and Peter remembered from your last conversation, you were still hurting.

“You two, enough”, Tony intervened sharply as he glared at your behavior.

You sighed as you slumped on your chair and Peter sat down annoyed, looking down and not wanting to face anyone of the avengers in one thousand years after what you had said.

“She’s not the point, the point is that we think she’s working for Kingpin”, Fury explained once more as Kingpin’s profile appeared on a hologram in front of you, at the center of the table.

It had been a while since you had heard his name, you knew he was dangerous and that he was no joke, especially in New York.

The last time you had heard about him, was when he had been absolved by a judge on drug charges but you knew it was because he had such a criminal organization that his pawns were the ones that had been caught, no evidence relating him directly. Plus, he was also regarded as the owner of much legitimate business and even had ties with politicians so it had become unlikely that he would get caught. Tony had offered to capture him some time ago, but Coronel Ross had decided that NYPD should be in front of that case, that the avengers shouldn’t waste their time on it.

But it seemed like they were being unsuccessful.

“Do we know why he would want whatever she’s stealing from Hammer and Osborn?”, you asked as you watched Kingpin's image on the screen. His heavyset appearance sometimes frightened you, his crystal blue eyes seemed way too dangerous and you gulped as you realized how tall he was.

“No, but you two are going to find out”, Fury answered you as he placed another set of files in front of you and another in front of Peter.

You inhale a sharp breath as it dawned on you who the two of you were. A shiver of panic ran through your spine as you realized that you had to stay in New York and also work with Peter, without any time frame of how long you would have to stay. Peter also felt his throat tighten up, he realized that he had to work with you, this new you that wouldn’t doubt in calling him out if needed.

“She doesn’t want to be here”, Peter whined as he looked at Tony.

“I don’t”, you started but were quickly cut off by Tony.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to”, Tony replied abruptly as he then turned at Peter, “Or if you don’t want to either”. Peter slumped a bit more on his chair. “You are going to work together like you used to because we said so and you can’t say no because we are your bosses. You are not seventeen anymore.”

Sometimes you forgot how severe Tony was, especially how he was with you, you could feel he was still a bit hurt that you had left for Europe without even discussing it with him first. He had simply allowed it because he understood how upset you were, but he wasn’t expecting that you would leave for such a long time, you hadn’t even met Morgan.

Peter had always been a little nervous about Tony, although he had grown from the timid sixteen-year-old he was when he met Tony, he still couldn’t avoid getting anxious when Tony got mad. He knew that Tony had some resentment over what had happened with you, you had left New York because of him and had hurt Tony in the way.

You gazed back at Peter, who was already looking at you.

“I guess we are together in this”, you muttered and Peter nodded.

You closed your eyes again, hoping that it wouldn’t be as bad as you hope it would be.

You had no idea what was coming your way.

*******

author’s note: I’m so so happy to finally be starting this new series. I’ve had it in my mind since last year when I wrote “hey hey you yeah, i don’t like your girlfriend”, literally i’ve been planning it for months and just now I found the time to write it and dedicate time to it. I’m still planning to finish Back to you but i was putting a lot of pressure on myself to write for that series and i wanted to spice it up and change it from the angsty feeling of Back to you.

I know it starts a little bit angsty but it will get much more exciting, a different y/n who has grown into herself as we saw here and whose not afraid anymore to be herself. Which is very different from y/n in Back to you. And Peter’s not that sweet as he was in Back to you, he can call out y/n too and her shit, and I LOVE that slow burn that we are going to see developing in the next chapter and also FELICIAAAAA hits different, especially for a bi like me.

This series is also inspired by my november playlist and i think this mood fitted very well with the story we are going to see.

There will be an update in exactly five days since i already finished chapter one and have started chapter two, i’m going to be updating as fast as i can. Please please please let me know what you think!! I little like or reblog literally make my day, especially general feedback!! thank you sooo much for taking the time to read it.

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yespolkadotkitty · 5 years ago

Note

Agh!! Nudie Anon here. I’m open to any Ezra nickname at all!! Thank YOU!

Rainfall

Gorgeous gif by @ithinkwehitametaphor - thankyou! and thanking @mourningbirds1 for the beta read.

Warnings: dark(ish) Ezra, mild violence, swears.

****

“She’s fine, your little bit, ain’t she? Seen her somewhere before - that’s it. Men’s room wall in a bar named Hook, Line & Sinker on Aperture-4.”

And with those words from a fellow grifter he’d been drinking with, Ezra had taken off like a rabbit with its tail on fire.

No one got to look at you that way, especially while taking a shit.

He stalked through the crowded bar, not caring who he pushed aside, a tall, striking man with a mouth made for sin, soulful, whiskey-brown eyes that could nonetheless communicate your doom, and a natural blond streak on the right side of his head, the lightness commanding attention among his tousled, hazelnut curls.

A kiss of starlight, you called it.

And your words made him feel like he was made of starstuff. Made him feel like more than a one-armed, washed up Prospector, a harvester who couldn’t really harvest anymore, reduced to grifting around the Universe for whatever jobs he could charm his way into.

He’d always been lucky with his charm. Could talk his way into any woman’s smalls; but those days, the days of faceless women to drown his sorrows in, as interchangeable as any liquor bottle, were behind him since he’d met you.

Rainfall, he called you. Because you were essential to him the way rain was essential to most of the early Terras of the history books you so loved. Because he was sure as shit that he’d die without you. Waste away, become nothing but a footnote in the life you’d continue to shine in without him.

And he wouldn’t let other men look upon the one gem he’d found that was a thousand times more precious than aurelac.

Priceless, in fact.

He stormed into the men’s room, the stained door rickety, swinging in Ezra’s angry wake.

An unfortunate man - a floater too, by the look of him - stood by your picture, leering, his hands under his long jacket. In a second, Ezra could guess what the charlatan was up to.

Fury rose, dark like demon’s wings, in his gut.

He crossed the dirty space in three strides, ripped your picture from the wall, stuffed it in his pocket.

“Hey, fuck you man,” the floater began. “I don’t see your name-”

Ezra’s knife, concealed in a custom-made pocket on his sweater, was at the man’s throbbing pulsepoint in a hot second. He might only have one arm now, but he’d learned to use it with pinpoint accuracy. “Might want to rethink your words there, friend,” he said silkily, his tone soft. Deadly. “Lest they be your last.”

“Whoa, whoa.” The man held his hands up, empty palms out. The front of his coat darkened and Ezra noted with faint disgust that the stranger had pissed himself. “I didn’t see nothing, all right? Please, don’t kill me.”

“Killing you would be a waste of resources,” Ezra sighed, smiling cheerfully at the shuddering man. “I’m thinking it’s kinder all around to let you live out your miserable life. Don’t you?”

He pulled his knife away, leaving a single drop of blood to run down the shivering stranger’s pale, fleshy throat, and left the men’s room, pushing the door open so hard it creaked on its old, rusty hinges.

Once safely outside under a canopy of lab-grown trees - the only way trees existed in the mess they called cities, these days - he took the flyer out, studied it.

There you were. Rainfall. He mouthed the moniker he’d given you. Your breasts spilled out of a corset, half-drawn so your nipples could be seen, tempting, round. Your legs were curled under you but you wore no underwear, so the curls between your legs peeked out.

He knew you were no blushing virgin when you’d met. You had known other men. You had trusted them.

And this was how one of those men had thanked you for your trust, your body, your heart.

Ezra recognised the little doodle in the right hand corner of the flyer. He’d seen it before, on counterfeit ales, on counterfeit... Recreational substances.

And thanks to his grubby past, he knew exactly where to find this particular felon.

*****

“Rainfall?”

You looked up from the bread you kneaded - an outdated by enjoyable pastime, sometimes made tricky by the fact you could only get soya flour (crappy rise) - to see Ezra coming in through the door.

“Ez. I was worried! You’re two days overdue.” You left the bread in a sorry heap and crossed the room, throwing your arms around him, burying your nose in the curve where his shoulder met his neck. He’d taken his suit off in your makeshift porch, and wore his undersuit and boots, his hair a little sweaty, curling at his nape and over his forehead. He nuzzled your hair.

“I’m as sorry as can be, Rainfall. Had a little extra business to take care of.”

It was then that you noted the smear of blood on his forearm. “Ezra.” You snatched his arm, searching for the tear in the suit.

“Oh. Ain’t mine, sweet girl.”

The breath whoosed out of you, and you lifted your face for his kiss, so happy to have him home, this man who made you complete, whose broken parts completed the missing pieces of your own personal jigsaw.

Ezra indulged you, pressing his lips to yours, and you opened greedily for him. He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you close as your tongues danced. You drank him in, the flavour of his habitual chicory coffee, mint chocolate protein bars, and something distinctly Ezra that you could never replicate in a thousand cycles.

“Found a flyer of you, Rainfall,” he muttered against your cheek, his facial scruff tickling pleasantly. “Adorning the filthy wall of a restroom on Aperture-4. Cheap entertainment for those without morals, men passed over by common decency, with gaping holes where their souls should reside.”

You bit your lip. “What the hell-”

“The culprit must have been a former paramour of yours, sweet girl.” Ezra let you go to pull the flyer from his pocket, showing it to you.

Your face fell as you took it, examining the picture closely, memories churning. “Yes. It was…. Almost ten cycles ago, now. He said that was for his private collection. Then, soon after, I found other girls…. Posing for his ‘private collection’ and I ended it. Oh, I should tell him-” You crumpled it in your palm, angry with yourself.

“A chore you need not trouble yourself with, Rainfall.”

You looked at Ezra askance, and then something dark passed over his face. The way Ezra could switch from charming to sinister in a heartbeat was one of the things that had most intrigued you about him, when you’d met two cycles ago.

And then you had dug deeper into this gorgeous puzzle of a man, and found light and shadow, softness and jagged edges. And you had fallen, hopelessly, for every part of him, even the missing ones, because they too, told a story.

“I may have had a fair illuminating conversation with your old flame.”

“Ezra…”

“The temptation to kill him was strong, I must confess, but I let him live, with all his appendages attached.” Ezra gazed down at you fondly, cupping your cheek. “Seems it may be a while before he’s moved to approach another woman, though.”

“Sometimes, Ezra, your moral compass is skewed just right.” You held him tightly. “Thankyou. The thought of a private picture, being shared that way-”

He nuzzled your hair, breathed in, sighed happily. “Can’t say it was entirely altruistic, Rainfall. Don’t sit well with me, others lookin’ on your beauty. You’re mine, and I don’t share well.” He kissed you fiercely, his arm banded around you, holding you close as could be.

“Yeah? I don’t share either.” You nipped at his lip. “I’ve missed you, and you interrupted at the perfect time.” You nodded towards the sorry-looking dough on the kitchen counter. “No way I’m getting a rise out of that.” Cheekily, you slid a hand down his body to cup him where he’d started to grow hard for you. “But I might be in luck, now you’re home.”

Ezra turned you in a circle, walking you slowly backwards towards your bedroom, dropping kisses on your neck as his hand worked the buttons of your rainy-stay-home jumpsuit. “My sweet girl. I’ll always endeavour to come home to you.”

Tagging the Pedro pals: @songsformonkeys @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @starlight-starwrites @thegreenkid @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @a-seeker-of-imagination @nelba @scarlettvonsass @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @cryptkeepersoul @alwaysbethewest @emmy-dandiliom918 @agirllovespasta @marydjarin @littlemissthistle @holographic-carmen @phoenixhalliwell @knittingqueen13 @badassbaker @chews-erotically @10-96dispatcher @pascalitomorales @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @seawhisperer @readsalot73 @alldatalost @abuttoncalledsmalls @winters-buck @jaime1110 @mrsparknuts @oloreaa

And people who did not ask to be tagged but might like this: @ezrasarm @summersong69 @havenforafrazzledmind @maytheglitter @gamingaquarius @lackofhonor @roxypeanut @ohpedromypedro @auty-ren @queenofheavenandhell @annathewitch @theravenreads @this-cat-is-dea

Please ask to be added to, or released from, the tags!

#ezra x reader #ezra prospect

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aerisahale · 5 years ago

Text

Catharsis

Pairing: Clarke Griffin x Lexa kom Trikru Fandom: The 100 Length: 4,311 Summary: Raven invites Clarke to stay at her house over Christmas break after the university forces all the students out of on-campus housing. Clarke doesn't expect to see her angry ex-boyfriend or the incredibly gorgeous friend of Anya's. Read it on AO3, if you prefer!

The chair to Clarke Griffin’s desk in her dorm room is the best seating in the small space and Raven Reyes is quick to throw herself down into it, bag hitting the ground with a thud. The bright lettering stands out against the mild background. Raven’s eyes are drawn to the flyer immediately. “Getting kicked out?”

“Just for the holidays. I have that extra semester to make up before it’s a full eviction,” Clarke says as she flops down onto her bed, her equally heavy bag hitting the floor hard.

“You going home?”

“Probably. Mom’s in Pakistan working at a Doctor’s Without Borders clinic that helps women and other refugees in the area, so I’ll have the house to myself.”

Squinting at her friend, Raven cocks her head. “Christmas alone?”

“It’s fine. I can catch up on The Mandalorian.”

“What did you do last year?”

Clarke sits up, eyes on the floor. “Bellamy and I went to his parent’s house.”

The remorse is easy to see on Raven’s face. “Sorry, Clarke. I know it’s still a sore subject.”

“It isn’t,” Clarke says quickly.

Too quickly. Raven raises a brow.

“It shouldn’t be,” she amends. “I ghosted him. Not the other way around.”

“You did the best thing for yourself. That doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt.” Raven reaches out and places a comforting hand on her friend’s knee.

“It’s been almost a year. I really am mostly over it. This is just the first Christmas in years without him.”

“You’ve been through a lot together. Despite how it ended, you cared for each other for a long time and that means something. It will always mean something.” Raven smiles her warmest smile and squeezes the knee she’s resting her hand on before pulling it away to snap her fingers. “Listen. Come to my place. You can stay in the spare room. We’re even throwing a Christmas Party.”

Clarke looks hesitant so Raven throws in a drawn out please with her best pout until her friend gives in. “But nothing crazy.”

“Just a few friends, no worries.”

“Thanks again for having me over,” Clarke says as she takes sets out the trays of food Anya handed her. Lining them up neatly on the countertop of the kitchen pass-through window, Clarke takes an extra moment to observe them in the whole of the setting.

An enormous tree sparkles in multiple colors in the corner of the living room, near their fireplace. Garlands, lights, and holiday-themed décor are arranged perfectly throughout the public spaces, down to the Christmas linens and hand soap in the bathrooms. All the invited guests have a stocking hanging over the fireplace as a party favor and three gifts currently sat wrapped beneath the tree for the white-elephant gift exchange planned for later in the evening.

Clarke knows all the names but one. The first hanging from the mantle is Octavia’s. Octavia, Raven and Clarke had all gone to school together and Clarke used to date her brother. She and Octavia played soccer together for awhile until the latter had transferred schools mid-year in their sophomore year. They were fairly close until that happened.

The next is John Murphy’s. There were so many John’s in high school that everyone started calling him Murphy and it stuck. Murphy wasn’t always her favorite person, as her moral compass did not quite point in the same direction as his, but she did not foresee them having any issues. She had a particularly fond memory of a time where they both got called to the principal’s office—both for very different concerns—and they had shared a pair of headphones while waiting.

After his was Emori Emmerson’s. She only knew of her. They did not frequent any of the same social groups growing up, but she had fallen in with Raven and Murphy, the latter of which she was dating. As far as Raven told it, she was fun to be around and had the same sense of humor as Raven.

Nathan Miller and Eric Jackson followed Emori’s and Clarke hoped they were still together. They started dating in their junior year of high school and seemed like a picture-perfect couple. She still saw the occasional Facebook post of stunning settings such as where they held hands against the backdrop of a vivid sunset. If anyone was going to make it through as high-school sweethearts, it was them.

Remember when they said that about you and Bellamy? Her traitorous brain completes the thought before she can stop it and it makes her angry. She argues back, Remember all the times he blamed me for things that were out of my control? Like the time you refused sex because you were on your period?

Satisfaction makes her smile when nothing else decides to bubble to the surface. Focusing her attention on the final stocking, the name she doesn’t know intriguing the curious, non-traitorous part of her mind. Lexa. She finds herself whispering it under her breath, enjoying the feel of it rolling over her tongue.

A knock on the door pulls her attention and Raven claps her hands as she sets the napkins in her hand next to the plates that were beside Anya’s appetizers that Clarke had laid out. The front door opens to reveal Miller and Jackson first, gifts tucked under their arms as they each pull Raven into a hug with their free arms. Those three converse for a minute before Raven takes their jackets and hangs them in the breezeway closet while Jackson puts their gifts under the tree next to the other three.

Miller sees Clarke first and waves to her, Jackson’s attention going that way moments after. She moves to hug them both, greeting them. “How have you guys been? I’m so glad to see you!” Privately, she adds, Together.

The exchange pleasantries as Raven starts pressing buttons on their stereo system until Christmas pop spills out of the speakers distributed well throughout the house. Clarke can hear it coming from the kitchen even. The lights on the Christmas tree dance to the beat and Clarke knows Raven enjoyed setting that up.

Another knock finds John and Emori on the other side of the door and the couple enters. The conversations of seven people fill the house with chatter and laughter, swirling with the Christmas music and the emerging, mouthwatering scent of warm sugar wafting out of the kitchen. The dancing lights distract Clarke from the next guest that enters, letting the cheerful music sit in her soul like a hearth fire, warmth filling her bones. It’s not with regret that her eyes find the next guest, she just wishes she had been paying attention because the woman she finds steals her breath.

She only sucks in another when the stranger is coming towards her, guided towards the food by Raven. Clarke panics. She ducks into the kitchen and finds herself staring into the fridge for absolutely nothing. The amount of cheese sticks Raven has stuffed into the crisper drawer is concerning, however. At least its twin is actually packed with vegetables.

“Oh, Clarke!” she hears Raven say and she takes a moment to pre-compose her reply to the inevitable introduction. Armed with her most charming smile, she turns away from the cheese overload, closing the door behind her. “This is Lexa! She’s a friend of Anya’s.”

“Nice to meet you! I’m Clarke!” She holds out her hand and tries not to wince at how overly-perky she sounds. Raven gives her a weird look and she knows she’s doing too much. She tries to dial it down by three notches as she asks, “How do you know Anya?”

There is an awkward moment where Lexa just stares at Clarke and she begins to wonder if she forgot to ask the question out loud until Raven says, “They grew up together, a lot like we did.”

The doorbell rings and Raven excuses herself, leaving Clarke and Lexa alone in the kitchen, alone in the uncomfortable silence as Clarke mulls over the fact that the other woman has yet to say anything to her. She wonders if the silence was better when the woman trips over her speedy question, “You’re the pre-med student that Raven goes to school with?”

“Ah, yeah, yes. I graduate in April. I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage?”

“Sorry,” color warms her pale cheeks as Lexa clears her throat and says in a much more paced tone, “Anya mentioned you might be here. What is your major?”

“Double-majoring, actually. I have one more semester to get my Bio and Chem degrees. Then off to med school.”

“You’ve already taken the MCATs?” the woman asks and Clarke is caught off guard.

“Yeah! Took them in my junior year to save time. I start at Harvard Med right after graduation.”

Surprise widens the woman’s green eyes and Clarke’s heart races. “I will be attending Harvard in January.”

“Small world,” Clarke jokes in an attempt to soothe her nerves. “What are you studying?”

Lexa smiles and the house around Clarke is spinning giddy circles to match the butterflies in her chest. “I also took the LSAT in my junior year. I just finished a double in Poli-Sci and History.”

“A lawyer!”

“Indeed. The real goal is to get into Congress, down the road. I hope for more, but that is my realistic goal.”

“That’s amazing! I have this feeling that you would be impressive at it.” Lexa smiles wide. “Thank you, Clarke.”

The way Lexa’s voice pops on the K of her name has Clarke wondering what she would sounds like if Clarke had her quivering under her mouth and the way Lexa is looking right through her, as if she can read her thoughts, has heat creeping up her neck and across her face. To distract herself, she turns towards the living room, surveying through the pass-through window.

Her eyes lock with familiar ones, the last ones she ever wanted to see again. His eyes were already on her and she feels trapped all over again. She spins around and suddenly finds herself breathing heavily. Lexa lays a hand on her back, rubbing a soothing circle as Clarke continues to chase her breath.

She turns back towards the party to see Raven looking at her with concern, mouthing, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know’ and Bellamy just behind her, eyes locked on the spot on her arm that Lexa’s hand gently remains. Only when Lexa’s arm drops back to her side does Bellamy say coldly, at odds with the words themselves, “Nice to see you again, Clarke.”

“Wish I could say the same!” Clarke blurts before pushing past him and beating a hasty retreat to the far corner of the living room.

Octavia finds her shortly and fills her in on what she has been doing, over the years. She keeps glancing at the kitchen door but she doesn’t think Bellamy has left there yet. Chuckling weakly at a joke that Octavia made, she jumps when Bellamy is suddenly at Octavia’s elbow, eyebrows drawn in anger. He speaks quietly enough that Octavia and Clarke are the only ones to hear him. “Why are you joking around with her?”

“We were friends before I switched schools, Bells.”

His voice rises slightly louder, people close to them glancing towards the group. “Friends? You don’t even know what you’re saying, Octavia.”

“Bellamy.” Clarke says his name in warning at the same time as Octavia tells him to stop making a scene.

“No, I think it’s time you—it’s time everyone knew the real Clarke Griffin,” Bellamy raises his voice, the conversation in the house falling silent as everyone focused in on them in the corner. The cheerful Christmas music and rhythmically twinkling lights at odds with the suddenly tense air. “You changed schools because of Clarke.”

“What?” Octavia asks. “What are you talking about? What is he talking about, Clarke?”

Shame fills every inch of Clarke as she stares at the ground, all eyes on her. Torn between running and praying a miraculous sinkhole swallowed her and only her, Clarke stays rooted to the spot. She tries to look at Octavia but can’t meet her confused gaze.

“Clarke planted the drugs in your locker that got you expelled from Arkadia High.”

The chill in Octavia’s voice actually makes Clarke shiver and she finally gathers the courage to meet her former friend’s furious eyes, “Explain, Clarke.”

“You…You all know how…competitive and ambitious I was in high school. I…put the drugs in your backpack the day before and then told the school officer about them. I thought it would just get you kicked off the team! We were both up for Captain and—at the time I thought it was what I had to do to win. I was young and dumb. I swear I had no idea you would be expelled. Please, Octavia, I’m so sorry.”

Octavia doesn’t say another word, storming out of the front door. Clarke is quick to follow, just behind her as the dark-haired woman keeps her steady march towards, well, Clarke isn’t really sure. Suddenly, she stops and whips around, finger pointed right at Clarke, jamming it into her collar bone to enunciate her words.

“You never told me? You never owned up to it? Even after you saw the consequences of those actions?”

“Octavia, I’m so sorry. Nothing I can say can ever make up for that.”

“I had to go to court!” Stab. “I had to go to therapy!” Stab. “No one believed they weren’t mine.” Stab. “Except Bellamy, and I guess I know why now.”

“No, no!” Clarke is quick to say, pleading with her eyes. “Octavia he always believed you. I only told him later when I was beyond drunk and feeling extremely guilty. I swear, he was always on your side.”

“And the worst fucking part, Clarke? Is that you lied! For all these years.”

“Please, Octavia. I know I can never make it up to you now, but you have to know, if I could go back and do it over, I would never have done it. I hated the person I was and I’ve learned from those choices. I choose every day to be a better person. I’m becoming a doctor to save lives, not ruin them. Maybe that’s why, if I’m being honest.”

The anger drains out of Octavia and Clarke holds her breath. “I was angry for a long time. I never knew how they got there. I did a lot of unsafe, unhealthy things that I regret while coping with that anger.”

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke breathes out.

“Look, I’m trying to say: I get it. We all have done things we’re ashamed of. All we can do is move forward and be a better person than we were yesterday. I definitely can’t forgive you yet, but let’s take it a day at a time and not let this ruin Christmas any more than it has.”

Clarke admires the woman Octavia has become, wonders what she went through to become this level-headed woman before her. In high school, Octavia would hold the longest grudges. Quick to anger and quick to give it a home adjacent to her heart where she would house it forever. It is part of the reason Clarke could never come clean about what happened.

Octavia heads back in, but Clarke stays in the cold a moment longer, taking a few deep breaths to calm her emotions before following back into the warmth. The Christmas music filled the quiet house, as everyone murmured quietly to one another. Bellamy stood in the back and it looked like he was quietly arguing with Octavia.

It took the party a while to lose the tense atmosphere, but it eventually did. Clarke kept near Raven, worried what the others must think of her, learning one of her deepest regrets. Not too long after the conversation picked back up, Raven pulled out a game of Pictionary and divided the group into teams. One team had Raven, Anya, Clarke, Bellamy, and Lexa and the other had Octavia, Miller, Jackson, Murphy, and Emori.

Clarke is chosen to draw first, and after Emori earned her team 4 spaces on the board, the turn passed to her. The first things she had to draw was stained glass. A church window came to mind and she quickly sketched Saint Mary as the centerpiece to a Curved window with lines to represent the where the glass was different colored. She thought this was going to be hard for any of them to guess but Lexa guessed correctly at the same time as Bellamy shouted, “Mary, the mother of Jesus!”

“Yes, but not exactly correct. Lexa got it, though. Roll for us?” Clarke tried to say it as gently as possible.

It turned into a competition between the two, or at least, as far as Bellamy was concerned. Every time it was Clarke’s turn to draw he would try to shout over Lexa, usually incorrectly. He would glare every time Lexa was right and he was wrong. Eventually, the game ended and Clarke’s team won, but barely. Despite the problematic moments, Clarke really relished how well Lexa got her.

She offers to help clean up as Lexa starts doing it. They gathered up the pieces and fit it all neatly back into the box. Clarke smiles at her. “Let me show you where it goes.”

Clarke leads her down the hallway to a closet and opens the door for her. She reaches in and turns the light on towards the side and Lexa slides past her to add the box to the stack of board games already in there. As Lexa turns to leave, she caught Clarke looking up and swallowing. She follows her gaze. Mistletoe.

Clarke glances back down in time to watch Lexa’s eyes dart up and she suddenly realizes how close the two are. She chuckles and attempts a joke, “Who puts mistletoe over a closet door? I feel like this is some sort of ‘coming out of the closet’ joke.”

“We don’t have to—” Lexa starts.

“But it is tradition—” Clarke stumbles.

“It is—" Lexa gets out before she’s crashing her lips into Clarke’s, missing by slightly too much before she pulls back and finds her center, placing a proper kiss on the shorter woman. Clarke moans into it, surprising herself, as she parts her lips for Lexa’s tongue that wastes no time in seeking askance.

It’s over as soon as it starts, as the sound of a toilet flushing just further down the hall has them pulling apart. Bellamy emerges and there’s no making excuses for what they’d just been doing. Anger further clouds Bellamy’s face as he says, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He storms past them and down the hall, turning back to shout. “Good riddance, you fucking slut.”

Octavia’s reply in the second sudden silence of the party at Bellamy’s hands issues down the hall, “You did not just slut-shame someone.”

“Yeah, I fucking did. Clarke is down her making out with Lexa after she fucking ghosted me.”

Clarke and Lexa head back out to the scene being made about them in the living room. All eyes are once again on Clarke as she confronts her ex-boyfriend. “You act like this, Bellamy! You act like this and worse, all the time. This is why I left you!”

“We spent years together and now you’re fucking some random chick!”

“First of all, it’s been almost a year since we broke up. Second of all, we were not fucking, clearly.”

“Third, she can do whatever she wants!” Octavia intercedes. “We don’t slut-shame in this house.”

“Once again, O, you have no idea what you’re talking about. The things Clarke and I have been through together mean something.”

“Look-“ Clarke starts to say, but Bellamy is hearing none of it, already set on his path.

“She was a secret fucking teen mom and now she’s hooking up with a stranger in her friend’s fucking closet. This is ridiculous. I’m glad I broke up with her. I clearly don’t know her at all.”

“What the fuck, Bellamy,” Clarke growls. “It took two to be that fucking teen mom!”

“Teen mom, for a minute, anyway. I’m fucking out. Fuck this shit.” He slams the door behind him and Clarke sways. Lexa is at her elbow and quickly has an arm around her waist.

“Let’s go sit down, okay?”

She lets the other woman guide her to the couch, taking a seat beside her. The soothing hand from earlier is back, rubbing circles into her back, and this time, Clarke leans into it. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, building a dam around the tsunami of emotions coursing through her, knowing her friends want an explanation.

Lexa is a silent but reassuring presence at her side. Raven looks heartbroken. Octavia is furious. The others wear looks of mild concern to curiosity. Raven is the first to break the silence, “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I—I want to. It’s time. It’s been years. I got pregnant in senior year. Bellamy’s, of course. It’s why I worked so hard to graduate early and why I took classes online for the first three semesters. I gave birth to a beautiful, amazing, healthy baby girl, but I wasn’t ready to be a mom. So, she was adopted by this lovely couple with enough money and time to give her an amazing life that I wasn’t sure I could guarantee her.”

She takes a few deep breaths, bolstered by the hand on her back, by the awe on her friend’s faces, by the love. “I was really depressed for months afterwards. Bellamy always supported my choice, he just didn’t get it, you know? I joined a Post-Partum Depression support group and ended up becoming friends with this other woman who also gave up her child and was experiencing a lot of the same feelings I was. Eventually, I worked through it.”

“I was different afterwards, and so was Bellamy. He was irritable, blamed me for a lot of things that weren’t my fault. I think deep down, even beyond admitting it to himself, that he blamed me for us not having our child with us. I think he felt pressured to support whatever decision I made and never voiced any of his feelings on it and it led to the rift that formed between us, until, one day, I just left.”

All of the shame and guilt that Clarke has carried with her for years felt lighter. Something else had changed tonight, and Bellamy was still an asshole, but it was all cathartic in some way. She smiles over at Lexa. “Nothing like meeting a cute girl and finding out all her deepest, darkest secrets, am I right?”

Lexa laughs and everyone else joins in. The atmosphere lightens and people begin a few side conversations. Raven throws herself into Clarke’s lap and pulls her into a tight embrace. “I love you, Clarke. I’m so sorry that this all happened tonight, but I hope it turns into something that helps you heal. I’m always here for you.”

“I love you, too, Raven. We should probably talk more about it, but later.”

“Oh, and, by the way, there might be some mistletoe hiding up there above the couch!” Raven points as she darts off Clarke’s lap, leaving her next to just Lexa, who she pulls into another kiss, drawing hollers from the crowd. “You owe me ten bucks,” she hears from John Murphy and she breaks the kiss in laughter.

“I know it’s been a pretty intense night, but I really am pretty attracted to you and I heard I might be living in the same city as you in a few months.”

“I feel the same way, Clarke. Following the tradition of candor this evening, Anya hoped we might hit it off tonight. She told me all about you and I was so stunned by how beautiful you are, I forgot how to talk when she introduced me.”

“Let’s exchange numbers for now and we can see how things play out once I move out there?”

Lexa smiles and kisses Clarke again. “I’ll miss these lips, but that sounds good.”

-- One Year Later --

“We’re going to Raven and Anya’s for Christmas, right?” Clarke asks.

“That’s the plan. Is Bellamy going to be there?”

“He is,” Clarke begins, stopping Lexa’s protests with, “but he’s bringing his girlfriend, and he seems to really be working on himself. However, in honor of last year, I proposed a new game to Raven. Confessions: The Game of Secrets and Lies. With a few custom added cards to carry on the tradition of last year, but it’s his turn.”

“Clarke.” Lexa frowns.

“All in good nature! I promise. Not like he was. Besides, it was pretty smooth sailing for us after all that!”

“Just because it worked out for us, that doesn’t make it a good model to cementing the foundation of a new relationship.”

“Okay, but it made mine and Octavia’s relationship even stronger!” Clarke adds with a sweet smile at her girlfriend. “Fine! Without the custom cards. Maybe. I reserve the right to be petty.”

“I am really glad I met you that night.”

“Maybe there will be more mistletoe!”

“Any excuse to kiss me?”

“As if I need an excuse! No, this party I’m going for scandalous!” Clarke directs a devilish smirk towards Lexa. “Gotta keep ‘em guessing.”

Lexa laughs. “Alright, scandalous, it is. Let’s practice right now.”

Clarke groans as Lexa bites right into the spot she knows drives her crazy. Their clothes hit the floor as they make their way towards their bedroom, thoughts of Christmas parties long gone.

#Clexmas20 #Day 6 Rockin Around The Christmas Tree #Clexa #Clarke Griffin #Lexa kom Trikru #Lexa x Clarke #The 100

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prayerith · 5 years ago

Note

maybe them playing video games at yugi's place after school?

so i know this is three days late, but in my defense, i wanted it to be good, and election stress, and also i finished it yesterday but didn’t want to post it because of, you know. everything. however, i have finally finished, and i bring you: wishshipping where they’re playing video games, but it’s also a first kiss story :) (g-rated!) thanks again for the prompt!!

Having a best friend that lived above a game shop came with certain benefits, Jonouchi thought as he sat down on Yugi’s bed, N64 controller in hand. The one he was most concerned with at the moment was Kame Game’s early access to the latest video games, and the fact that Yugi almost always got a free copy of any game he wanted from his grandpa as soon as they came in. As such, the only reason he was at Yugi’s house was to play the new Nintendo fighting game (named Super Smash Bros, of all things), no matter what Anzu tried to insinuate as she saw the two of them walking in the same direction after school.

“Hey! Did it boot up okay?” Jonouchi nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Yugi’s voice, but relaxed when he saw him in the doorframe, balancing two bags of chips and a two-liter of soda in his arms.

“Yeah, it’s ready whenever we are,” Jonouchi replied, before standing up and taking one of the bags and the two-liter from Yugi to set them on the coffee table in front of the small television. Yugi smiled gratefully, and Jonouchi carefully ignored the skipped beat of his heart as he watched Yugi set the remaining bag down. He was only here for Super Smash Bros. Nothing more.

“Ah, thanks, Jonouchi.” Yugi’s face was red, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. Jonouchi found himself fixated on the violet of his eyes, the movements of his muscles, the blush of his cheeks, even as he tried to put it aside and focus on the character-select screen. “Well, should we get started?” Yugi asked, clapping his hands together as he sat down on the bed entirely too close for Jonouchi’s liking.

“Sure thing, Yug’. What character do you want?” The urge to toss his arm over Yugi’s shoulders was almost too great to ignore, but he managed to push it down, instead swallowing and moving the joystick over the character portraits in a circle.

Yugi hummed, opening a bag of chips before grabbing his own controller. “I want…” he said, before selecting his character, with a cry of, “Kirby!” He reached into the bag of chips and popped a handful into his mouth, then, chewing at Jonouchi as though it were meant to be triumphant. Mostly, Jonouchi thought Yugi looked silly – and yet, whenever Yugi looked silly, he looked cute, so he couldn’t quite complain.

“The marshmallow, I should have known,” he said instead, arching an eyebrow at Yugi, who immediately erupted into laughter.

“Hey, don’t underestimate the marshmallow!” Yugi fixed Jonouchi with a stare that was surely meant to be intimidating, but was contradicted by the laughter sparkling in his eyes, and the twitch of his cheeks as he tried to keep them from smiling. “I can beat you with Kirby nine times out of ten, no doubt!”

“We’ll see about that!” Jonouchi laughed, selecting Link after not much thought. The guy’s got a cool sword, what could he say? Yugi hit the start button, and selected the first stage – thank goodness for that, Jonouchi had to figure out how the game worked before trying anything too crazy! After a brief loading screen, the game counted them down from three, and they were off.

***

“And that’s another win for me!” Yugi set his controller down and flung his arms into the air, eyes squeezed nearly shut from his smile as Kirby smiled from his first-place position, Link clapping politely in the background. “Yugi five, Jonouchi zero,” he continued, doing a seated victory dance that did little more than shake the bed underneath them.

Jonouchi only looked at the victory screen on the television for a moment before his gaze was drawn back to Yugi, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his bright smile. He didn’t much like losing, but it was worth it if he could see Yugi smile like that. “Guess I’m gonna need more time to get the hang of this game than you, huh?” he said, unable to keep the fondness out of his tone. “What’s your secret? How are you so good at everything you do?”

Yugi turned to look at him, then, cheeks immediately turning pink, which was cuter than it had any right to be. “Quit messing around, Jonouchi. There are plenty of things I’m not good at!” There was still laughter in his tone, like he was making a joke, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck told Jonouchi there was more going on.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like that! C’mon, you’re the closest thing to perfect I’ve ever seen.” Jonouchi put his hand on Yugi’s shoulder and shook it lightly. Yugi’s cheeks flushed even darker; whether it was because of the compliment or the physical contact, Jonouchi couldn’t be sure. He didn’t reply, choosing instead to stare at his lap and keep rubbing his neck. Jonouchi’s eyes narrowed; that had to stop. Without thinking, he grabbed Yugi’s hand and brought it to rest in the space between them, rubbing the back lightly with his own thumb to help comfort Yugi. “Hey, need me to run down a list?”

Yugi ducked his head, further avoiding eye contact, speaking his next words to the carpet. Jonouchi had to pause for a moment to fully comprehend what he said – it was always tougher for him to understand what people were saying if he couldn’t see their mouth move – but eventually he managed to process it. “No, you’re fine, I get it. You see me differently than I see myself, I guess.”

“Well that’s a shame, because I wish you saw yourself how I see you!” Jonouchi began holding Yugi’s hand with both of his, ducking his head so that he could see Yugi’s eyes under his bangs. “When I see you, I see the smart, brave, compassionate person who stood up for a no-good bully, even though he got beat up in the process.” Yugi opened his mouth to respond, but Jonouchi cut him off. “And I know you’re about to defend me, say that I was just trying to make you a man, or that I didn’t know what I was doing, and that’s the thing, Yug’! You always look for the good in people, no matter how deep you have to dig to find it. You have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, and it’s all focused toward other people. When are you going to find compassion for yourself?” He squeezed Yugi’s hand a little tighter, which made Yugi finally look up toward him, wide, violet eyes shiny with unshed tears. Jonouchi felt like his heart would burst at the sight, so he squeezed tighter still, until Yugi brought his neglected hand to join the other, squeezing back.

“I think I prefer to hear it from you,” Yugi finally responded, voice thick with the tears he had yet to shed. But he was smiling, now, and that made Jonouchi so happy, he didn’t think twice about leaning forward to close the distance between them and kissing Yugi.

As far as first kisses went, it could have been better. The way they were sitting, side-by-side on Yugi’s bed a foot apart, made the angle awkward, especially since Jonouchi refused to let go of Yugi’s hands. Not to mention, the way Jonouchi had rushed in made the press of lips hard and unyielding, and Yugi had gone stiff at their first touch. When Jonouchi pulled away, it was with regret, fear – had he ruined their friendship forever? “I’m sorry, Yug’, I didn’t –”

“Let’s try that again,” Yugi interrupted, pulling his hands free and scooting close enough that his shoulders and thighs were touching Jonouchi’s. He cradled Jonouchi’s face with a hand, and Jonouchi knew he must have gone wide-eyed, because Yugi laughed. Finally, he leaned in, and captured Jonouchi’s lips in a much gentler, less impulsive kiss. Jonouchi melted into the contact, reciprocating as best he could, before they both pulled away. Yugi looked fit to burst with happiness, despite the lingering tears in his eyes, and Jonouchi couldn’t keep the dopey grin off his face.

“Man, and you really think you aren’t good at everything? ‘Cause you keep adding to the list!” Jonouchi laughed, brushing a stray bang out of Yugi’s eyes. Yugi glared at him, but it was playful, and he combed his hand through Jonouchi’s hair as well. “Seriously, that was the best kiss I ever had! You oughta teach classes on this, I’m not kidding.”

Yugi raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? You want me to kiss other people?” Jonouchi stared at him for a second, again taking time to process, before spluttering and taking things back. Yugi just laughed, and interrupted him with another kiss. “I’m just kidding, Jonouchi. If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Time froze around Jonouchi, the world reduced to nothing but him and Yugi. If he could, he would have sprinted out the door and ran through the streets of Domino, proclaiming that Yugi was his. As it was, though, all he could say was, “Yeah, of course. And I’m yours too.” Then, he kissed Yugi again, just because he could. And if pieces of Kirby’s victory screen were burnt into the television screen for some time afterwards, well, who could blame them for forgetting to turn the game off?

#my writing #i think that's my tag?#thanks again!#stabbymattress #wishshipping #this turned out way longer than i meant it to be lol

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astraeagreengrass · 5 years ago

Text

Right Where You Are, That’s Where I Am

Sometimes, finding yourself means finding someone

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1.904

Warnings: Angst, allusions to violence and PTSD, fluffy ending

A/N: This is my submission to @wkemeup’s 4K Writing Challenge. My prompt was “Mariner’s Apartment Complex” by Lana del Rey. Thank you Kas for having me and congratulations on such an impressive milestone! ♡

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes or any other fictional characters mentioned in this story - they are property of Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. The title belongs to Lana Del Rey. The plot is my own creation.

You lose your way, just take my hand You're lost at sea, then I'll command your boat to me again

The plane left you in the border of Burundi.

From the muddy, narrow airstrip to the meeting point it took you four hours in a 1977 Jeep CJ-7. The air-conditioner was broken, forcing you to roll down the windows hoping for some breeze, but no such luck. Your hair was stuck to your nape and your skin collected mosquito bites as you drove through the heart of Africa, trailing the Mwiruzi river, guided only by an old printed map and a vibranium compass.

You reached the village at nightfall. Less than twenty houses formed a semi-circle around a tiny square, a well right in the middle of it. It was similar to hundreds of other villages you passed through on your way, but a rune drawn in white paint on the door of the house closest to the road gave it away as the right one.

You parked the Jeep beneath a Tamboti tree, tucking the keys under the passenger’s side seat cushion. Taking your backpack and a black duffel bag, you exited.

Nakia was waiting for you at the porch of the seventh house, a fussing baby in her arms. She was trying to soothe him with a lullaby sung in xhosa, her melodious voice the only sound apart from the crickets, but the child was insistent. Realizing she wouldn’t acknowledge you until the child was calm, you sat in the rickety wooden porch step, tucking your head between your knees. You hadn’t slept in over two days and finally finding Nakia gave you some unexpected relief that allowed the exhaustion to creep in.

“We’re leaving in the morning” she announced a few minutes later, when the baby surrendered to sleep. “You can rest until then.”

You wouldn’t, but it was nice of her to offer.

“It’s safe here” she added and you just nodded. That wasn’t enough guarantee to let your guard down.

Nakia sighed, only minor frustrated. Your behaviour annoyed her, but she knew she couldn’t demand much from you, even if you did look dead on your feet.

“Come on” she said, mentioning with her head for you to follow her inside. The house consisted of a single room, a kitchen, and two long, pic-nic style tables. It was relatively full, which immediately startled you, but your deft gaze was quick to assess that these people were more suspicious of you than you were of them.

There were no adult men, only women and children. The oldest boy appeared to be around twelve, and was carefully tucked to his mother’s side. There were other babies like the one Nakia extended to a girl sitting by the door, before exclaiming in igbo:

“Ayo! The milk is here!”

Ayo was a middle-aged woman mixing food by the stove. She nodded, but made no move to step away from her careful cooking.

“Are you hungry?”

You were, but it didn’t look like you were welcome. Regardless, Nakia mentioned you forward. Taking the black duffel bag from your hands, your host started taking out the cans of milk formula you bought in Johannesburg.

The request seemed odd to you at first: why did Nakia, the Kenyan heiress turned Wakandan spy, needed dozens of cans of milk formula somewhere in Tanzania? It looked as though this room was the answer.

Ayo wordessly placed a bowl of githeri in front of you. It was delicious and you didn’t hesitate when she offered you seconds. While you ate, Nakia and the cook stacked the cans in neat piles on the cabinet under the sink. You were still eating when they finished.

"We'll take your car to Mukigina" Nakia stated. "Someone will get us there."

"When?"

"In sixteen hours."

"How long from here to Mukigina?"

"A little over seven hours if we go off the road."

You shrugged. You've been going off the road for a while now.

"Can I ask you something?" she leaned closer to you. Nakia could easily be mistaken by one of your sisters, with her flawless features and deadly skills. But the gleam in her eyes, still present after all the terrible things she's seen during her undercover work as a War Dog, set her apart from the daughters of the Red Room. She wasn't broken, battered and bruised on the inside like you were. And all the horrors she'd witnessed weren't caused by her. "How did you know he was in Wakanda?"

You met Nakia at an underground casino in Busan right after the fall of Hydra. She was following a lead on a poacher of and you were following a lead on him. When the poacher turned out to be more vicious than she expected, it was your bullet in his head that solved the problem. You never met again - until two weeks ago, when you saw her standing next to the Wakandan king at the United Nations.

"My sister was with your king in the summer" you explained. "In Germany."

"Oh" her eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under her headscarf. "Romanoff?"

"Yeah."

"That explains how you know him."

You snorted.

"How did you think I knew him?"

"I don't know..." she trailed off. "Honestly, for the past two years I've thought about you constantly. You saved my life and I couldn't even say a proper thank you before you disappeared. I thought maybe you were an Avenger, but you're too squirmish for that. And none of them wear black, do they? They love their bright colors."

You laughed, the first real one in a long time.

Nakia patted you on the shoulder gently.

"I meant what I said earlier. You should get some sleep."

"Sleep isn't really my thing" you muttered.

"Every single girl in this village was rescued from the Boko Haram. We secured this location a couple of months ago because these men, these terrorists… They don't care about the women they steal, but they do care about their children. Especially if they're boys. So don't be ashamed of your nightmares, 'cause we're used to them around here."

You scanned the room. Most of the girls had left, but there were still three huddling by the stove, listening carefully to Ayo's instructions. They didn't look a day older than sixteen. At sixteen, you'd already killed more men than you could count with both hands. You wondered if they'd kill their kidnappers if given the chance.

Nakia's room was in the house next door. Moonlight filtered in through the curtainless window, bathing the small chamber in silver glow. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

In less than a day, you'd gone from old cars and dirty roads to spaceships and hover carriers.

Birnin Zana - The Golden City - rose miraculously under the savanna sun. Skyscrapers as high was the eye could see, a protective dome and cutting-edge technology - all of it coexisting in perfect harmony with nature and ancient traditions.

Nakia placed you in a hut in the outskirts of the city - close enough that you could visit Princess Shuri’s laboratory everyday but far enough that the locals wouldn’t be bothered by a foreigner’s presence.

The first week was torture. Blurry recollections of your past haunted your dreams, leaving you gasping for air, staring out the window until the first light appeared behind the trees. From dawn to dusk you'd stay at the lab, guarding his frozen body like a ghost.

It finally got on Shuri’s nerve.

“That’s it. I'm kicking you out."

She sent you to the Dora Milaje. Their leader, Okoye - tall, gorgeous and intimidating - was apparently looking forward to meet you. On a grassy field overlooking the river she handed you a wooden stick.

"Let's set how you fight without a gun" she said with a smirk.

It was disastrous. Okoye and the other warriors were graceful, silent and fast like cheetahs, meanwhile you were a hippo in heels, scrambling with the wooden stick. Madame B's voice taunted you, like the devil on your shoulder, seething everytime they bested you. On the fourth day of training your demons finally caught up to you and you broke down.

Okoye held you, whispering in soft Yoruba that you were safe.

A month later you braved the market. Manioc, okra and tomatoes in a booth, turmeric, cardamom and nutmeg in the other. The smell was intoxicating, swirling in your brain in gormandize like never before. You left chewing on a ripe piece of watermelon, pink juice staining your lips, with a pot of African violets cradled in your arms.

The violets were placed in your kitchen table - two seats, one for you and one for him when he came. Soon afterwards they were joined by a banana bunch, plucked from the tree in your yard.

The discovery of the banana tree made way for lettuce, eggplant and pumpkin. The seeds were gifted to you by Queen Ramonda herself and they took to the soil like sand to sea. When you noticed the first green leaf sprouting from the earth, you wept. Your hands, once made for killing, were now giving life.

The food welcomed the children. They'd play in your yard, sidestepping the flower beds like a dance. When they grew tired, they barged in, all five or six of them demanding lemonade and strawberries and questions.

"What does snow feels like?"

"Do you miss Russia?"

"Is it true the Americans think Africa is a country?"

Like ground ice. No. Some of them do, yes.

It was late December when Shuri gave you the news.

"We're ready to wake him up."

They placed his sleeping body on the bed, saying that he should rise by himself in a few hours. Suddenly, you were fourteen again, waiting behind bulletproof doors in a secret facility in Siberia, waiting to meet him for the first time. Only he wasn't the Asset or Soldat anymore. He had a name, a history, a mind of his own.

You'd killed for him. Tortured innocents. Thwarted governments. Broke a thousand rules just to be closer to your forbidden lover. Schemed and lied looking for his freedom, uselessly. Lost yourself trying to find him.

"Come with me" Natalia pleaded. "That spy I was supposed to kill in Budapest… He spared me. Said he can take us both to America. S.H.I.E.L.D. will offer us protection."

"I can't" you refused. "I can't leave him."

"You'll die before you save him."

Your sister was wrong: you survived. And now, halfway across the world, fate gifted you with another chance.

The children woke him. They scurried out of the house, laughing and chanting. Emhlope ingcuka, they called him. White wolf.

James Buchanan Barnes found you gazing at the horizon beyond the lake. Slowly, testing his legs, he walked over to your side.

"Good morning" you smiled.

"Good morning."

"How are you feeling?" you asked.

"Good."

You turned then, eyes catching his in the warm daybreak. A breeze ruffled his hair and your skirt, a gentle reminder that it was real. You were real.

"James?" you tried, hesitantly.

"Bucky" he declared in triumph.

"Bucky" you liked it. It suited him. "It's nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm sorry it took so long."

His right hand squeezed yours. Callus and scars met callus and scars. Your rough edges molded into his in a perfect fit, in this new land that took you in as its own.

You were home.

My masterlist

Everything taglist: @scentedsongrebel @youclickedthislink @thegetawaywriter

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes #corneliabarnes #my wrting

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biillyhargroves · 6 years ago

Note

Sick!Steve PLEASE! As much as I love me some mom!Steve I'd love to see Billy take care of Steve. Like Steve dealing with some PTSD or something?

I know that this didn’t quite get into sick!fic terrority but the PTSD and hurt/comfort elements are still there and I can always expand it into something a little closer to sick!fic if you would want that!!! I hope you enjoy!!

when you think with your chest (there’s not a thing that you don't see)(fic requests open)

A flash- like a lightning bolt, a clap of thunder; some great cosmic force flips a switch that throws the clock back and shoves Steve tumbling backwards in time. He can smell the smoke from the fireworks, can hear them pop against the ceiling, spark and fizzle on the floor. He can taste the copper tang of blood in his mouth. Sometimes, he sees a shadow moving along the wall and he swears it is a demogorgon crawling on the other side. He can never take his eyes away, sure that it would soon push its way through. Once, he even took a kitchen knife to the drywall, an incident that he is still trying to cover up because he is not quite sure how to explain the huge gash to his mother.

The squeal of bus tires becomes the snarl of a demodog. He jumps when car doors slam. He plays defense every waking hour of his days, always on edge, always alert. On his worst days, his back aches from the tension wound tight across his shoulders.

Today is one such day. Steve’s heart is pounding and he cannot calm it. His body feels like he has run two back-to-back marathons after a line of basketball scrimmages, when in reality he has not done more than walk from the house to the car to the table at the back of Mel’s Diner. Billy sits across from him, and he is staring at Steve. He won’t stop fucking staring.

“Would you fucking stop?” Steve says, and Billy’s eyes widen- not in anger, not even looking hurt. If anything, he looks concerned, and somehow this upsets Steve even more.

“What the hell am I doing?” Billy asks, and Steve shakes his head.

“You know what you’re doing,” Steve says flatly.

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Billy asks, and Steve groans.

“Where the fuck did you pull that phrase?” he says. “You sound like a fucking dad.”

"Untwist your fucking panties, man,” Billy says. “You’re making a scene.”

Steve cannot look at Billy too long. He glances over Billy’s shoulder to see the door every time it swings it open. He flinches at every little clank of silverware, every shout from the waitstaff, every call from the cooks. Billy notices, but where, on other days, his eyes followed Steve’s, trailed to whatever was demanding Steve’s attention, today his attention is zeroed in on Steve. Steve feels like he’s under a microscope. He tries to shrink himself down, to make his movements minute, to do anything that might draw Billy’s focus away from him.

It doesn’t work. Billy is, after all, not an idiot. He knows what Steve is doing, even if he hasn't quite pinned down the why. Steve thinks that this is what he is truly trying to deduce, and he doesn’t know if he wants Billy to find the answer.

“You’re still doing it,” he snaps, and Billy rises to his feet.

“That’s it,” he says.

“What’s it?” Steve asks. Billy’s hand closes around his bicep and he pulls Steve to his feet and shoves him not so gently toward the door. “What the fuck?” Steve says. A couple- two underclassmen Steve vaguely recognizes from Hawkins High -at a table near them turns, and when their eyes spot Billy and Steve, they turn quickly away. Billy nudges Steve forward and as they move away Steve can hear the two teens whispering to each other. He thinks he catches his name, but he isn’t quite sure, and before he knows it he is outside being guided toward his own waiting BMW.

“Who’s making a scene now?” Steve grumbles.

“Keys,” Billy demands, opening his palm.

“We didn’t even eat yet,” Steve says.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you starve,” Billy says. Then he raises his waiting hand. “Keys.”

“I can drive my own fucking car,” Steve grumbles.

“You don’t know where we’re going,” Billy declares, and again he says, “Keys.”

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Steve asks.

“I’m not playing,” Billy says sternly. “Keys. Now.”

Steve relents, but he is not happy about it. He fishes in his pocket and tosses his keys to Billy. When they get into the car, Billy rolls down all the windows. He tunes the radio to his favorite station and turns the volume up as high as it can go.

“You’re gonna blow my speakers,” Steve complains.

“Shut up,” Billy says. He peels out of the diner parking lot with the music blaring. Steve is sure that every single person they pass can hear the closing bars of The Four Horsemen as Billy powers down the street and makes a series of sharp, calculated turns. He drives through town and, when he hits the highway, Steve finds himself nervous.

“Are you going to fucking kill me?” Steve shouts over the music and the wind that gets louder through the open windows at Billy hastens the car’s pace. Steve glances at the odometer and watches as the little needle bounces higher and higher with every mile marker they pass.

“Not yet,” Billy says. He is drumming one palm against the steering wheel in perfect beat with the music. Steve watches every strike, finds himself drawn to it, even counts each slap of Billy’s palm against the wheel. One, two, three, four- in quick succession, then two slower claps before the pattern repeats. When the songs change, so does Billy’s drumming, and Steve is fascinated by the easy way he picks up the nuances of each new song. Eventually, he turns toward the windshield, still listening to that steady drumming through the rush of wind and the throb of the bass.

“Where are we going?” Steve eventually asks, but Billy either does not hear him or chooses not to. When Steve looks at him, Billy has one arm out the window and mouthing the words to Looks That Kill. “Hey,” Steve shouts, and Billy glances briefly at him. “Where are we going?”

Without answering- or perhaps this is his answer -Billy takes the next exit. Steve did not get a chance to read the sign before it blew past them in a blur of brown and white. Billy finally eases up on the gas. Steve doesn’t quite recognize where they are, but Billy seems to know his way. He glides across lanes of thinning traffic, turns down dirt roads that don’t really look like roads, and eventually parks on a strip of worn down grass. When he kills the ignition, the sudden silence almost hurts. It rings in Steve’s ears and, when Steve speaks, he still finds himself yelling as if competing with the music that is now gone.

“You are going to kill me,” he says, “aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not,” Billy says. He swings open the door and slams it behind him. He starts walking without looking to see if Steve is following. Steve thinks that this means he’s supposed to follow, so he lets himself out and does just that.

“Where the hell are we?” he asks. Billy does not answer. He leads Steve down a short dirt trail lined with trees. They walk for barely a minute before the trail empties out onto what Steve thinks must be the smallest beach in existence. Its shore is thin, the sand coarse and rocky, and the water fills up a lake so small that Steve thinks he could wade to the other side. Billy walks onto that small beach, moving down the shore like he’s done this a thousand times before (and, for all Steve knows, he has). He is looking at the ground as he walks, and Steve looks down, too, though he isn’t quite sure what they’re looking for. Eventually, Billy seems to find it. He plucks something off the ground and tosses it in his hand, then winds up his arm with the practiced technique of a major league pitcher and chucks the small rock at the water. It hops over the surface one, two, three times before sinking.

“That was shit,” Billy says, already kicking up some sand in search of a new rock.

“Why’d we come out here?” Steve asks. “There are lakes in Hawkins.”

“They’re all always crowded,” Billy says. “This is better.”

“Better for what?” Steve asks.

“To get away,” Billy shrugs. Steve looks at him. Billy meets his eyes and Steve finds something like compassion there, something like understanding, something like a question. “I don’t know what’s going on up there,” Billy says, pointing at Steve’s head, “but I can see the wheels turning. I know when you’ve got shit on your mind,”

“I don’t really want to-” Steve starts, and Billy shakes his head.

“You don’t have to talk,” Billy says. “But you weren’t thinking about it since the diner, were you?” he asks, and know there is something knowing in his eyes, and it almost makes Steve smile.

“Uh,” he says. “No,” he admits. “Now that you mention it.”

“You can pick the music next time,” Billy says. “I just went default, I guess.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks.

“Nightmares?” Billy says. When Steve creases his brow, Billy points just below his eyes, where dark circles that rival Steve’s own sit like fading bruises. “Flashbacks,” he says. At Steve’s confusion, he shrugs his shoulders. “Like I said, I don’t know what’s going on for you, but living in your head isn’t gonna do shit.”

“You sound like a Star Wars character,” Steve says.

“I’m going to have to ask you never to say that again,” Billy says, feigning anger. He then takes another rock from the ground and hands it to Steve. “Skip it,” he tells him. “Focus on the water like you focused on the music.”

Steve takes the rock. He turns it over between his fingers, then glances up the water. After a few seconds, he looks at Billy.

“I still don’t get what this is all about,” he says.

“You’re not focusing,” Billy tells. Steve exhales. He looks back to the water. He raises his arm, flicks his wrist, sends the rock skipping once, twice, three times before it drops to the bottom with a soft plunk.

“Where’d you learn this?” Steve asks. “This, like, focusing bullshit?”

“Honestly?” Billy asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Honestly.”

“Max,” Billy says. “Some shit her dad used to do with her, apparently. She and I started coming down here a few months ago. With all the shit after...well, you know. I guess I was stir crazy. I guess she saw. We’d go on drives. Found this place.”

Steve is only half listening. Billy had been cooped up since Starcourt, this he knows. He had visited him at Hawkins Lab and he had snuck in through Billy’s bedroom window at home. He had been with him, but he hadn’t noticed how cabin fever had made Billy so restless. He was too busy looking for monsters in the shadows, too distracted by the burnt smell of gunpowder he swears he can’t wash off his hands. He feels guilty.

Billy’s hand lands on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to talk,” Billy says. “But if shit gets too heavy to carry, just tell me you want to go to the beach. Okay?”

The sincerity in Billy’s voice, on his face, settled in the very depths of his eyes, is unlike anything Steve has ever seen in him before. Billy squeezes Steve’s shoulder and Steve thinks he might melt at the touch. Again, he sighs. “Okay.” They are quiet for a time. As promised, they do not talk. They skip rocks. They make it a competition; Billy wins, though Steve chalks this up to experience. The sun begins to sit and they quit their game, instead sitting together the sand. Steve leans against Billy. Billy secures on arm around Steve’s back. Steve rests his head on Billy’s shoulder.

Eventually, Steve asks, “What if I want to talk?”

“What?” Billy asks.

“About...everything,” Steve says. “What if I want to?”

“You can,” Billy says.

“Not now,” Steve clarifies.

“That’s fine,” Billy says.

“But maybe later,” Steve says.

“No pressure,” Billy assures.

“I will want to,” says Steve.

“I’ll be here,” Billy says.

“Promise?” Steve asks. Instead of speaking right away, Billy squeezes Steve’s shoulder. He tugs Steve a little bit closer and Steve lets him. He feels Billy press a kiss to the top of his head and, if possible, Steve curls up even closer to him.

As the sun takes its bow and the sky grows deeply dark, Billy says, “I promise”

#harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fanfiction #lex writes fics #anon #answered

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freedom-shamrock · 6 years ago

Text

Hero Cafe

Also on AO3

The idea for this was sparked by a recent comment Dawn_on_Fire made on AO3 on the BAMF Marinette story "Snack Chat."

⁂

Marinette looked over everything in the mini refrigerator while Tikki ran down the checklist.

"It looks like you've got everything set, Marinette," her kwami said brightly. "This is such a sweet idea. I'm proud of you for moving past your worries to make this happen."

She closed the door and stood up, gazing proudly at her balcony's new setup. Superhero work was exhausting and took a lot of reserves. A few months back, she'd started bringing a bag of end-of-day breads and pastries whenever she was on patrol or training with any of her teammates. While they'd all appreciated it, Chat Noir had actually gotten tearful in his gratitude. Her partner was far too thin. Sure, his black suit emphasized that, but she'd picked him up enough times to know that it wasn't an illusion. She'd heard enough to know that his home life was garbage, and while she couldn't ask, it was clear he wasn't getting enough to eat.

It had taken far too long to come up with a solution that didn't involve her going out every night to feed her kitty. Lycee had gotten intense and she was stretched too thin as it was; she couldn't afford to give up more sleep if she wanted to keep all her commitments and ensure Paris' safety.

Pitching the plan of creating a superhero rest stop to her parents was easier than she'd expected, though perhaps pointing out Chat Noir's dangerously underweight physique, and likening it to her friend Adrien's, was all it took. Her parents were feeders and caretakers; they couldn't abide underfed children.

"It was so nice of your parents to get you the mini-fridge and microwave," Tikki said. "You're not the only member of the family with great ideas!"

"We Dupain-Chengs are creative." She tickled the little red being's tummy. "And I'm sure it helps to have the literal embodiment of creation hanging around us."

Tikki shook her head. "I'm drawn to creativity, and I might boost it because we're so close all the time. But I can't make what isn't there."

Resting her hands on her hips, Marinette surveyed the finished project. It far exceeded her plans of a cooler and box of snacks, with boxes to sit on. She'd found a tiny table and two low profile chairs at a cafe that was changing out all of its patio furniture. She'd expanded her brightly colored awning to cover the entire patio, not just the corner where the food was kept. She'd added curtains on all sides that could be dropped for privacy or protection from the weather, though she expected they'd stay rolled up most of the time. For the nights when more than two heroes were out and about, she'd added a storage bench full of blankets. Her fairy lights had been swapped out for a larger set.

Tikki swooped over to the pseudo-kitchenette and hung up the laminated page explaining all the features of the space. Then she darted over to circle the empty rings in the new ceiling. "Let's put up your sign. Then you'll be officially open for business."

"Business," Marinette snorted, but picked up the little sign she'd crafted. "This is a philanthropic activity. I don't get paid for it."

"True," Tikki agreed. "But you do get peace of mind."

Sighing happily, Marinette nodded. "Yeah. I do."

⁂

"Where are we going?" Chat Noir asked as Ladybug led him over the rooftops.

"It's a surprise." She couldn't look at him right now; she was afraid her giddiness would give her away. She couldn't wait to see his reaction. They were nearly there. "You'll want to vary your approach trajectory in the future to prevent suspicion."

"So it's someplace we'll be going routinely, then?" he asked, and she could imagine him tapping his clawed index finger against his chin as he followed. "New roof for meeting or training?" he guessed.

"Nope. This is way cooler." She paused on a roof where she could see both her old college and the faint twinkling of her patio lights. She had her glee under control now, and could glance over at him. "I know we've saved and met a lot of civilians, but do you happen to remember Marinette?"

His smile practically lit up the night. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The amazing up-and-coming fashion designer and daughter of the folks who run my favorite patisserie? That Marinette?"

She nodded. She'd managed to stay out of akuma attacks as a civilian for the last two years, so she was frankly surprised he remembered her so clearly.

"She's amazing," he gushed. "She's so kind and brave, and she's as creative as you are. You should probably consider her as an option for a third string miraculous wielder. I bet she'd be fantastic."

She turned away so he wouldn't see the hot blush in her cheeks. Why did her partner's effusive praise please her so much? This was ridiculous! "Sounds like some kitty has a crush," she teased.

"Won't deny that for a moment," he said, completely unperturbed. "I think it's impossible to meet Marinette and not develop a crush."

"Really?" she asked, her voice squeaking in surprise at the confirmation.

"It's like a whole new law of physics," he said, rubbing his chin with one knuckle. "If you are capable of romantic or physical attraction, you will be attracted to Marinette."

"What?" Where had this come from? "Hyperbolic much?"

"Not at all," he insisted, utterly serious. "Every one of my friends who have ever come in contact with Marinette has gotten a crush on her."

He sounded so sincere, but his words didn't match up with her reality at all.

"So much concentrated energy and compassion," he continued with a sigh. "Definitely doesn't hurt that it comes in such an adorable package. She's deceptively strong, but so nurturing. I know she'd treat a sweetheart right."

She let out an undignified squawk and tripped off the edge of the building.

Chat was snickering when he caught up with her at the next rooftop over. "So shall I add you in the crushing on Marinette club?"

"Oooh, no." She shook her head. Dating herself? That'd be a trick.

He smirked. "Aaah yes. Denial. I remember that stage. You should just move on to acceptance. Then we can talk about how awesome she is when we're playing hot-or-not. Spoiler, she's hot."

"Are you dating her?" she asked, hoping to derail that trainwreck. "Because if you're not, it sounds like you want to."

"I wish." His amusement turned to wistfulness. "I don't dare get that close to her as my super self or my bland civilian self." He shook his head. "It wouldn't be safe for her."

"Wow," she whispered. "That's both really sad and amazingly wise all at the same time."

Chat Noir shrugged. "I've grown up a bit the last few years."

"I'd noticed," she pointed out with a grin.

"No, I mean mentally… emotionally." Another shrug. "I was kind of stunted when we met. But I've learned."

She patted his shoulder. "Well, we're heading to Marinette's," she said. "She's got snacks for us."

His eyes were wide, and a blush kissed his cheeks.

She swung herself over, landing just before him, so she could see his face as he looked around the renovated space.

"Marinette's Hero Cafe?" Chat Noir read the sign she'd hung up with Tikki as the final touch. His mouth was open a little in awe. He crossed into the kitchenette where a little chalkboard on top of the microwave declared stew the special of the evening. She'd worked with multi-colored chalks to draw designs like she'd seen in various cafes around the city. He reached out and ran a finger over the stack of dishes and peeked into the refrigerator, stocked with energy drinks, a pitcher of water, fruit, cheese, and the pot of leftovers.

After he'd read the laminated sheet and marveled over every last detail, he turned to her. "Did you already see this?" he asked.

Ladybug nodded. "She flagged me down and shared the idea with me when she was just starting work on it. It's… grown a lot from what she first envisioned." She shrugged. "It's probably a little over the top. What do you think?"

He beamed at her. "I love it." He glanced down at the skylight, but her room below was dark. "If she were home… or awake, I'd have to thank her profusely. Grandly. In true Chat Noir style." He struck a pose, then dabbed.

"You're ridiculous," she said, snorting with laughter. "And while thanking her is fine, you really don't need to go over the top."

"But…" He waved around them at the remodeled space. "She made this for us. I know she used to use this space for brainstorming and designing."

"She still can," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but… I don't think she'll feel as free to do so now. Maybe during the day, but not at night." He rubbed at his chin. "I know what she's like. She's set this space aside for us, and I bet she doesn't even really think of it as hers anymore."

She stared at him, blinking in stunned silence. How did Chat Noir know Marinette so well?

"She'll want us to feel comfortable here without risks, so she'll probably take care of the space, and bring up the leftovers from dinner." He pointed at the refrigerator. "But she'll want to leave it for us."

"I hadn't thought of that." It wasn't true. She had thought of it, and felt the pros outweighed the cons. "Maybe she feels it's worth it? It's her way of thanking us for taking care of Paris."

Chat Noir lifted the glass cover off a platter of pastries to pluck out his current favorite, a croissant with just enough dark chocolate to make it feel decadent. "I may not be able to thank her tonight, but mark my words, I will rectify that in the future."

"There's no need to get all over the top and ridiculous about it," she cautioned.

"Pfft. I am Chat Noir," he announced. "Ridiculous is what I do."

She shook her head. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"And Marinette deserves an extra helping of my gratitude."

"Chaaaat," her tone was a warning.

"Think she'd accept payment in exotic fabrics?" he asked.

Ladybug stared at him, stunned for approximately the fifth time in the last hour. He knew her, Marinette her, well enough to know exactly what would appeal. She found her voice after a moment of heavy silence. "I think Plagg needs to add a tag to your collar."

His luminescent eyes blinked slowly in confusion.

"You are clearly Marinette's cat."

⁂

It’s not a one-shot anymore, and you can now check out Chapter Two if you’d like.

If you’re so inclined, feel free to support me over on Ko-Fi

#Miraculous Ladybug #Fanfic #My Writing #Marichat #Fluff #Marinette #Tikki #Ladybug #Chat Noir #Hero Cafe

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tyrsenian · 5 years ago

Text

And now, for the slowest response perhaps ever to a fic prompt (I’ve just put the whole thing here cause digging through older posts seemed like too much work). A huge thanks to @thesearchforbluejello for helping me work through some, ah, issues with this one.

“It’s locked.”

“You mean we’re stuck in here?”

“No, I just thought it was a fun bit of information,” Frankie huffs. “Jai, are there any exits that aren’t locked?”

“Or heavily guarded?” Will adds.

“I don’t see--” Jai breaks off. “Wait, what are you?”

The comms are suddenly flooded with feedback and they’re left with a level of static that doesn’t quite go away.

“Jai, what’s going on?”

“They’re trying to block the signal,” he says over the static. “I’m not sure how much longer I can--”

The line crackles for another few seconds before going dead completely. Frankie bends down to inspect the lock more closely and sighs in frustration. “This is just great.”

“There’s gotta be another way into the parking lot,” Will says.

“Well, we’d better find it soon.”

The sounds of shouting and footsteps are getting louder, distinct now against the blaring alarms.

“This way!” Will pulls her around a corner and they take off down a corridor.

It branches into two long halls, one of which contains more shouting men. They choose the other.

“I’m gonna kill the next person to use the words ‘simple extraction,’” Frankie hisses as they reach the end and duck into another hallway.

“On the bright side, I’m feeling a little less guilty about skipping my morning run today.”

The men are gaining on them, their gunshots more frequent and concerningly close. They turn another corner and almost run into a concrete wall.

Will groans. “God, this place is a maze.”

“That’s your main concern? We’ve got about thirty seconds till death by firing squad and you’re gonna complain about-- wait, is that a scanner?”

There’s a small box on the wall near Will’s head. Frankie digs their fake fingerprint out of her pocket and places it against the box, which beeps softly. A column of bricks on the far wall slides into the ground, revealing a thin strip of snow and sky. They squeeze through and the bricks slide back up, sealing off the exit.

“I guess Anderson built himself a secret escape route,” Will says.

Frankie takes in the snow-covered bushes and the treeline in the distance. “This is… not the parking lot.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not getting shot at anymore so I’d say it’s a definite improvement to the inside of the compound.”

“Fair. So how are we gonna get to the meeting point?”

Will shrugs. “We walk? It’s only, what, fifteen miles away?”

She shakes her head. “There has to be a way to get back to the car.”

“You got any ideas?”

Frankie glares at him.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he says mildly. “Come on, we need to get out of here before they figure out where we went.”

Will sets off towards the forest and Frankie heads after him, trying to ignore the burning in her right thigh. She doesn’t remember getting hit, but she does know what a bullet feels like. She also knows that she’d be dead by now if it had hit an artery, and the fact that she’s still upright and conscious means it’s a problem for later.

They run in silence, straining to listen over the sounds of their own breathing as the shouting and the gunshots grow fainter and less frequent.

The compass on Will’s phone tells him they’re headed in mostly the right direction, and he’s about to suggest a slight change of course when he hears Frankie cry out.

He turns just in time to watch her fall forward, sending up a puff of snow as she hits the ground. “I’m fine,” she says without looking up. “Tripped over a branch.”

She pushes herself up onto her knees and stops for a moment. Will freezes as he catches sight of the red blotch in the flattened snow in front of her.

“Frankie, you’re bleeding.”

“I know,” she says. “You gonna help me up?”

He holds out a hand and she takes it. She moves her other hand to her thigh and she can’t quite hold back a gasp as he pulls her to her feet.

“Were you planning on sharing that piece of information?” he asks.

She narrows her eyes at him. “Why does that sound like a trick question?”

Will sighs. “How bad is it?”

“I’m fine,” she repeats, “It’s just a scratch.”

“Frankie,”

He’d learned long ago that she’s impervious to the puppy dog eyes that work so well on Susan, so he sets his jaw and holds her gaze until she relents.

“We don’t have time for this,” she mutters. “Just give me some bandages.”

Will fishes the medkit out of his backpack and hands her the supplies. He tries not to hover as she wraps the bandages tightly around her upper thigh. Her pants are dark and that’s making it hard for him to see the full extent of the wound, but judging by the amount of blood in the snow and on her hands, it’s more than just a scratch.

Frankie catches him staring at her as she wipes her hands on her vest and shoves them back into her gloves.

“What?” she growls.

Will throws up his hands. “Oh, you know. My partner gets shot, doesn’t tell me, no big deal.”

“I told you,” she says, “I’m--”

“Fine? Because you don’t look fine.”

She isn’t fine, really, but she’s had worse. She’s a little lightheaded and her body is starting to go numb from the cold. Her leg is throbbing but it’s a distant feeling somehow and one that she can still mostly ignore.

“Gee, thanks,” she says. “Now, unless you wanna stand here and argue until they find us again, I suggest we get moving.”

She turns to stalk off. Her leg doesn’t quite support her weight and so she stumbles sideways instead, grabbing hold of a nearby tree to keep from falling. She can feel Will watching her but he doesn’t comment and he doesn’t move to help.

He does wait for her to steady herself before moving forward, and they set off once again in silence.

_______________________________________

She doesn’t say anything as he slows his pace to accommodate her and his initial surprise is quickly fading into concern.

They’re not going to make it to the meeting point before dark at this rate. And that would be fine if the temperature wasn’t already in the single digits, if he had any idea where Jai and Susan were, or if he were even entirely certain they’d lost Anderson’s men.

He can tell she’s struggling to keep up. It’s killing him not to offer any support, but she seems almost desperate to maintain the pretense that she’s okay. She always has been independent to a fault, he thinks.

His resolve lasts until the next time she loses her footing. He reaches out to catch hold of her as she lurches forward, keeping his arm around her waist as she regains her balance.

“Geez,” Will grunts, “I could have used a little warning.”

“Mm.”

Frankie wraps her arm around his shoulders, leaning against him as she takes a tentative step. He can feel her shivering and she can’t quite seem to catch her breath as they move forward. She’s limping more heavily now and the bandage around her thigh is already stained a deep red.

“We’re not gonna get there before dark,” she says after a few minutes.

“I know.”

She stops walking, letting go of his arm and turning her head to face him. “Will, that weapon has to make it back to the Hive. You can still make it to the meeting point on time.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“We both know I’m slowing you down.”

“Frankie, you’re hurt,” he snaps. “If Anderson’s men find you--”

“And if they find both of us? How many innocent people do you think will die if they take that weapon back?”

“I’m not gonna let that happen.” There’s an edge to his voice despite his best effort to stay calm. “Now come on, we’re losing daylight.”

She narrows her eyes at him but lets him take some of her weight. “Will, you’re making a bad decision.”

“I disagree.”

“Yeah but you’re wrong.” Her voice is flat and she sounds more tired than angry.

Will doesn’t press the issue as they walk, but he does notice that the sky is starting to go gray and shadows are getting longer. They need to find shelter soon, he realizes, because there’s a very real chance they’ll be spending the night out here.

Neither of them sees the cottage until they’re almost on top of it. Cottage might be too generous a description, Frankie thinks, but it does fit somewhere between house and shed. It’s a small wooden building that looks like it hasn’t had human inhabitants in years. The steps up to the front door are covered in snow, the shutters are hanging at angles and there are more than a few shingles missing from the roof.

“Please tell me you brought your lockpicks,” Will says. “As much as I enjoy kicking down doors, I think I’ve had enough of that for one day.”

Frankie’s eyes widen. “You’re not seriously suggesting we stay in this place, are you? There’s like a two percent chance Anderson doesn’t know it’s here.”

He shrugs. “I’m willing to take that chance at this point, unless you wanna start building an igloo. We won’t be able to stay outside much longer.”

Frankie considers this briefly. She really doesn’t want to start building an igloo; she’s approaching her maximum level of physical exertion by putting one foot in front of the other with some degree of regularity, and she’s pretty sure Will knows that.

“Yeah, they’re in my bag.”

Getting them out of her bag is more of a struggle than she’d anticipated. She can’t feel her fingers and her thick gloves make it hard to open anything. She finally manages to get ahold of the case and tosses it to Will. “Have fun.”

His brow wrinkles slightly but he opens the case and takes out the lockpicks. It takes him a solid three minutes to get the door open and she considers calling him rusty, but it’d be a bit hypocritical and she’s not sure she has the energy for an unnecessary argument right now.

He enters the building with his gun drawn, checking each of the rooms before circling back to the entrance and nodding to Frankie. “It’s clear. Just a little dusty.”

“Will,” she says, “Stairs.”

She hates that she has to ask but there’s also no way she’s making it up those five steps by herself.

“Oh, right.”

Her thigh is on fire by the time they make it to the top. It’s the most she’s felt in at least the past hour and she’s not quite sure whether that’s good or bad. She’s also out of breath and pretty sure that the dark creeping into the edges of her vision isn’t just the sun going down. Will helps her to the couch in the main room and she collapses onto it with a groan. It’s not until she catches him looking at her with concern that she realizes she’s still shivering.

“There’s a pile of wood on the back porch,” he says. “I’ll start a fire in the fireplace.”

She doesn’t remember drifting off but she wakes to someone calling her name. There’s a weight on top of her and she panics for a moment before realizing it’s a pile of blankets. She opens her eyes to a roaring fire and Will’s worried face.

“Will, ‘m really tired,” she mumbles.

“Hey, I know, but you’ve gotta stay awake right now.”

There’s something else about hypothermia that she doesn’t quite catch and then, “Frankie!”

She forces her eyes back open. “Yeah?”

“I need to take a look at your leg.”

“‘Kay,”

Frankie pulls down her pants to her lower thigh, wincing as the stiff fabric scrapes over the wound. She pushes off the blankets and watches as Will’s face hardens.

“Never really liked these pants anyway,” she says, except the words come out a little less distinct than she’d like.

Will makes a noncommittal sound and opens the medkit on the coffee table. It occurs to her that he might be angry but she doesn’t feel like thinking hard enough to figure out why. She doesn’t feel like thinking hard about anything right now. She lets her eyes close and her head tilt back onto the couch.

He doesn’t fully process the wave of anger that hits him at the sight of the exposed wound. Frankie looks confused for a second before her face goes blank and her eyes drift shut, and he reminds himself that he needs to focus. On the fact that his partner is barely conscious and still bleeding, not on the questionable decisions she’s made.

Will pushes these thoughts out of his mind as he pulls out gauze and a packet of wipes. He puts his hand on her lower thigh to keep her from moving and she startles awake.

“Gah! Why are you so cold,” she complains sleepily. “Get off me you icicle!”

Frankie reaches her hand over to push him away and he grabs it with his free hand, slowly moving her arm back to the couch.

“Well, you should try getting shot somewhere warmer next time.”

She blinks. “Think I’ve had enough of getting shot.”

“Yeah, I would hope so.” He’s fairly certain he succeeds in keeping his tone neutral.

She lies quietly as Will wipes away the dried blood and bandages her leg. Her pants are soaked through with blood that’s starting to dry and he knows that can’t be comfortable.

“Do you want a change of clothes?” he asks when he’s satisfied that the bandages are secure.

“You brought extra pants? Why does that not surprise me.”

“No,” he admits, “but I found some in a drawer when I was looking for blankets. I’ll be right back.”

Frankie’s sitting up by the time he gets back, eyes closed and pants discarded in a heap on the floor.

“I come bearing gifts.” Will holds up the faded blue pyjama bottoms.

“Wow, I can smell the mothballs from here.”

But she holds out her hand and he hands them over.

“Thanks,” she says softly.

He busies himself by reloading his gun as she changes, but she doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick over every so often to check on her.

She’s not shivering anymore but her whole body aches and her thigh feels like someone’s taken a blowtorch to it. She must not be doing as well as she’d hoped at keeping the pain off her face because Will’s looking increasingly concerned.

“You doing ok?” he asks at last.

She groans. “Liked it better when I was frozen. I’m gonna take a nap now.”

She’s exhausted again and she doesn’t think sleep will make things any worse. She pulls up the blankets and lets herself fall back against the couch before Will has a chance to reply.

It’s just after nine when Will hears the hum of an engine in the distance, but it’s been dark for hours. Frankie’s asleep again. Her breaths are deep and even and her skin is no longer cool to the touch, but she’s worryingly pale and he’s not sure how much more blood she can afford to lose.

He places her gun on the coffee table where she can reach it in an emergency. He takes his own and heads out onto the porch where he’s almost blinded by headlights.

The fact that no one’s opened fire yet is a good sign, but he doesn’t lower his gun until the car doors open and he hears Susan’s voice.

“Will, what happened? Where’s Frankie?”

“She’s inside. She, uh, she got shot and she’s lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to a hospital.” Will pauses. “What took you guys so long?”

“What took us so long? Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a vehicle in this area that can go offroad?” Jai sounds angry and just a little hysterical.

Will turns and they follow him inside. “Do I want to know how you found this one?”

“You do not.”

The door closes loudly behind them and Frankie’s eyes fly open, her hand reaching for her gun before she fully registers the people in front of her.

“Hi guys,” she says. “We got the weapon. Didn’t quite make it to the meeting point though.” Her speech is slurred and she winces visibly as she tries to sit up.

Jai frowns. “We noticed. Fortunately, my tracking devices still work out here.”

“Hey guys, we need to get going,” Susan says.

“I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” Will asks Frankie.

“I can walk,” she mumbles. But she makes no move to get off the couch, so he picks her up bridal style, blankets and all.

He lays her down in the backseat of the car and climbs in after her, positioning himself so her legs are elevated in his lap.

“This’ll be a bit of a bumpy ride,” Susan says. “I’m sorry Frankie.”

She turns the key in the ignition and they head off slowly and bumpily into the night.

He doesn’t hear from Frankie again after she insists that he head back to the hotel for the night. Susan tells him in the morning that Frankie’s checked herself out of the hospital, and carefully suggests that he give her some space. He knows from experience that ignoring a suggestion from Susan is a risky move, so he waits a whole three hours before texting her. He thinks she might be avoiding him when another three hour pass without a response, so he shows up at her room with a bag of take-out.

“It’s me,” Will announces as he knocks on her door. “I brought Chinese.”

He can hear some kind of movement on the other side but nothing happens after a minute, so he knocks again.

“I’m coming,” she grumbles. “Hold your horses.”

The door opens a long moment later and she appears looking vaguely annoyed. He can’t quite tell whether the annoyance is directed at him or at her crutches and he’s distracted by her sweatshirt before he reaches a decision.

It’s a solid blue sweatshirt with “FBI” written in yellow letters across the front. It’s slightly too big for her and there’s a tear that’s been patched on the left sleeve.

“Hey, I thought I’d lost that shirt!” he complains.

She freezes for a second, and he watches her eyes widen before she forces her expression into a grin. “It’s comfortable.”

Will sighs dramatically. “That’s the last time I’m letting you borrow any of my clothing.”

“Wouldn’t have needed it if you kept your apartment at a normal-person temperature.”

“Wow,” he says, “I bring you food and you steal my clothes and insult my thermostat.”

Frankie shrugs. “You know I have a point.”

“Hey, we could have strategy meetings at your place instead.”

She considers this. “We could, but we will not.”

“Fine,” Will says. “Now, are you gonna let me in before all this food gets cold?”

“I was kinda hoping this was more of a delivery situation.”

He arranges his features to convey stern disapproval and she laughs. She moves to open the door wider and he watches her expression slip for just an instant. He had prepared himself for anger or even pain, but the sadness that flashes in her eyes is far more unsettling. He knows she’ll get defensive if he asks about it, though, and they have more important things to discuss.

Will follows her across the room, setting the take-out bag next to her laptop on the small table. He pulls up a chair as she lowers herself onto the couch, turning to stretch out one leg and bring the other up to her chest.

“You want beef or chicken?” he asks.

***

They eat quickly and in near-silence. She hadn’t even realized she’d been hungry, but all she’s had since yesterday morning was a protein bar and some questionable hospital food, and she makes short work of the orange chicken. She catches Will glancing up at her every once in a while from his own carton with an expression she can’t quite read. The air feels dense and heavy, unspoken words suspended like water droplets on a humid summer afternoon, and she tries to push off the feeling that she’s waiting for the storm to break.

Will turns to look at her as she finishes off the lo mein, his face serious. “Frankie, we need to talk.”

“I agree.”

“I know-- wait, what? Really?”

She wishes she could laugh at the confusion and suspicion growing on his face. She wants so badly to pass it off as a joke, to move forward and pretend that yesterday never happened.

“I don’t think we can be partners anymore,” she says quietly to the bland painting on his left.

She watches as his expression changes to one of shock and then anger before settling on a curated impassivity.

“You could have died yesterday and you should probably still be in the hospital,” he points out. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be having this conversation right now?”

“You were the one who said we needed to talk!”

“See, I was gonna suggest we talk about yesterday. You know, like normal people.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re aren’t normal people!” Frankie snaps. “We didn’t run out of paper at the office yesterday. You made a decision that could have put hundreds of people at risk, and you did it because of me. That’s not something we’re gonna get past by talking about our feelings.”

“You’re mad at me because I didn’t let you die out there?”

She sighs. “I’m not mad at you, Will. I’m just...reminded that this is why I don’t do partners. Emotional attachment is a dangerous thing in this line of work.”

“You’re saying you’re emotionally attached to me?” He just looks confused now and she thinks that she’s maybe not getting her point across very well.

“No!” She answers on instinct and then pauses for an instant to reconsider. “Maybe! I’m saying that we can’t afford to let our feelings get in the way of the job. That’s clearly something you’re not capable of, and I should have realized sooner that it would cause problems.”

She pauses again. “I did realize sooner. But we really did make a good team. And things were going so well and you kept looking at me with those big green eyes and going on about the importance of family. And I was starting to believe you, like an idiot.”

“Hey, I stand by what I said.”

“I know you do.” She struggles to keep her face expressionless and her voice flat. “But the truth is that family is and will always be a liability.”

He shakes his head. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“Keeps being true.”

He’s silent for a moment and she can tell he’s trying to decide whether to argue the point. “Okay,” he says at last. “Fine. So how would this mission have turned out if you had gone in there alone?”

She frowns. “That’s not a fair question. Even the CIA wouldn’t send someone into a situation like that without backup.”

“So you admit that working with other people lets you accomplish things you couldn’t do alone.”

“I never said it didn’t. But there’s a big difference between having someone for backup and working with the same person every day for years.”

He considers that. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

“With my life.” That, she thinks, is sort of the problem.

“And that scares you,” he says slowly, “Because you’re not used to delegating that sort of power and because you think I value your life too highly.”

She shrugs, and he appears to take that as a sign to continue. “Do you fight as well with these people you go to for backup? Do you know how they think, what they’d do in a given situation? Could you make it through a laser field together?”

If she wasn’t watching his face, she might have thought his questions were rhetorical. He’s usually confident to the point of arrogance, but he looks almost nervous now, his eyes trained on hers as he waits for her answer.

“I don’t think so,” she admits, and she wishes she didn’t notice as his expression relaxes just a little.

“Do you really feel that you’ve become a worse spy since joining this team? That you’re less effective at your job with me as your partner? Because if you can honestly say yes to that, then I’ll walk away. I’ll ask the director to disband the team. But I think you’d be wrong.”

She could look him in the eyes and tell him yes. She knows she probably should. But, god, she doesn’t want to, and part of her is starting to think that maybe he has a point.

“I don’t know, Will. I really don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he says, focusing his attention on the empty take-out containers as he stacks them back in the bag. She can’t quite tell whether she hears relief or disappointment in his voice.

“It doesn’t look like I’ll be going into the field anytime soon though, so it’s not an urgent decision.”

Will nods, standing up and turning to leave. “Let me know, though, okay?”

“Yeah.”

He’s almost reached the door when she says his name. She hadn’t really meant to, but now he’s turned towards her again with a look that’s disgustingly hopeful.

“Susan said she’d come by with muffins once we get back home,” she blurts out. “And as the person who introduced her to whole wheat flour, you’re morally obligated to help me eat them.”

She knows as soon as she says it that it’s a mistake, but he’s smiling just a little now and it’s doing things to her stomach that she’d never admit.

“That does seem fair,” he says, his tone serious. “Always willing to do my part for the greater good.”

And then he opens the door and walks out and she’s left wondering what the hell she’s just done.

#whiskey cavalier #dialogue prompt #asked and answered #finally #thesearchforbluejello

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existing-on-cloral · 5 years ago

Text

Brooklyn’s Night Terrors

Chapter Twelve: French Girls

Steve comes home from the hospital. He takes his scientist with him, planning for some domestic bliss, but the Reaper has other ideas.

You drove Steve home from the hospital in Bucky’s car. Of course, due to his healing factor, he had been able to get back to work sooner, and you were thankful for it. More heroes on the streets fighting against the Reaper, the better.

Steve was silent the whole car ride, and your thoughts drifted to the last time you’d seen him, when Peggy had interrupted the two of you. Was he thinking of her?

You quickly shook off the thought. Jealous would get you nowhere, and besides, you knew better. Still, you couldn’t resist asking as you pulled into the apartment complex’s parking lot.

“Steve?”

He turned his head ever so slightly to looked at you. “Yeah, doll?”

“What happened with Peggy?”

A quiet laugh escaped his lips. “Someone’s jealous.”

“I... It’s not like that.” You gripped the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. “I promise, I just want to know.”

Steve turned away again. “We talked. I explained that it had been years since I last saw her, even though for her, it was just days. I can’t explain how that made me feel... Not guilt, since I moved on, but something else. I just... I don’t know.”

You set a hand on his shoulder. “Steve, it’s okay to be confused. The last time you saw her was in a casket, and now she’s alive and well.”

“I know, but... It’s nice to see her.” He moved a hand to hold yours. “You don’t feel threatened?”

“God, no.” Your lips broke into a smile. “Stevie...”

“Bucky used to call me that,” Steve said, and pulled you into a kiss.

His apartment door crashed open and the two of you spilled inside, giggling like teenagers. Steve slammed the door shut and locked his arms around your waist, kissing you again and lifting you up. You kissed him back, biting at his lower lip until it swelled into your mouth, red and plump. He almost literally threw you onto the counter, kissing down your neck and collarbone.

“Wait, shit,” you cursed. “Steve, I’m not... You always had a condom...”

Steve withdrew reluctantly. “Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair and pulled you back to your feet. “Right. I think I need to run to the drugstore. You gonna be okay here?”

You reached up and tugged on his hair, pulling his lips back to yours. “I love that you still say drugstore, you old man.”

Steve smiled against your lips and he broke away, holding your face in his hands. “What did I do to deserve you, baby?”

“Something good,” you said dreamily, grabbing his hands and taking them from your face.

“Fifteen minutes.” He grabbed his keys off the hook and turned to the door. Before he opened it, he turned back to you and added, “That’s how long you’ve got to be on my bed, no clothes. Got it, doll?”

You swallowed. Oh, you could get used to this Steve. “Yes, Captain,” you teased, then filed the nickname away when Steve tensed. “Kinky.”

“I’ll show you kinky when I get back.” Steve walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

Wow.

You turned away from the door and took in your surroundings. You’d been here a few times, but every single visit brought something new. He had old photographs littering every possible surface, a coffee pot with a dent he swore looked like a heart (it didn’t), and a throw pillow with the words There’s No Place Like Home stitched across it. The apartment was a mishmash of everything Steve, and you loved it.

Remembering Steve’s order, you walked into the bedroom, breathing in his scent deeply. Then, since you still had a little time, you went to the bedside table and ran your fingers over the items on it. The discovery of the day was a small round capsule, probably something to hold jewelry in. Why would Steve need-

The capsule popped open in your hand, revealing a compass on one side and a picture of Peggy Carter carefully attached to the other. The side of the picture was slightly torn, as if someone had tried to pry it up but failed. You set it down, pushing the jealousy away, and scanned the other items on the stand.

Next to where the compass had been was a pair of scissors and a picture of three people.

Your breath caught.

It was you and Sam and Bucky.

You remembered that day. It was the first day you’d been in the training room, about four months ago, and you’d tried to use too much weight. Bucky had run over to help you and Sam had followed reluctantly, complaining about wasting time. Sharon, who was supposed to be your training partner, had quickly snapped a picture, knowing she could blackmail you for almost dropping the weight at the sight of Bucky and Sam, dripping with sweat. Sharon must have sent it to Sam and Bucky. You picked up the picture, shaking your head at the memory. A circle was drawn around your faces, the exact size that was perfect for the little compass.

Trying to keep your head from bursting, you set down the picture and went for the last item, a leather-bound book with a thin ribbon page marker. You flipped the book open to the ribbon and gasped out loud.

The unfinished sketch on the page was beautiful and terrifying at the same time. It was a drawing of Bucky, eyes narrowed, head cocked, both arms tense as his hands curled around the gun in his hands. Both hands were flesh.

Steve had drawn this. His initials were scribbled at the bottom.

You turned the page and almost dropped the book. The next sketch was of you. You were lying down on a bed, one eye closed, the other eye wide open as you looked up off the page. A thin sheet made you just barely decent, hinting at debauchery. You carefully touched the drawing, just to make sure that it wasn’t a photograph.

“I thought I told you to be on the bed,” Steve’s voice rumbled from the doorway. You whirled around, clutching his sketchbook in your hands.

“Did you draw these?” you asked, holding up the book.

Steve nodded, tossing a small bag onto the bed. “I did. All of them.”

“They’re amazing. When this is all over, you could be an artist,” you said, showing him the drawing of Bucky.

“Is that all you saw?”

You flinched. “I...” You turned the book around and turned back to the drawing of you. “Was this from memory?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

You giggled, and whispered, “Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack.”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing, it’s from a...”

He cut you off. “I know what it’s from. I’m 105, I’m not dead.” Steve drew closer until his eyes were glinting down into yours. “Do you want me to draw you again?”

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate to set down the book and draw off your shirt. “Wearing these.”

Steve looked down at your breasts, which were covered delicately by a baby blue lace bra. “Oh, doll.”

You sat on the bed and let Steve rid you of your shoes, socks, and pants. Steve’s breath hitched at the sight of your matching panties, which happened to be missing a key part. “They don’t have a...” He trailed off, but no flush came over his face. Well, of course. He was in the army.

“You can fuck me all you want with these on,” you said, hooking a leg around his neck and making him look up. “After you draw me.”

Steve took a deep breath, grabbed his sketchbook, dug out a charcoal pencil, and set them down on his desk. Slowly, he approached you and positioned you on the bed, legs closed, one arm over your head, the other hand resting on your stomach. He turned your head to face him, then stepped back. “Perfect,” he said, almost to himself. He returned to his desk and swung the chair around, kicking an ankle up to his other knee and propping the sketchbook on his calf.

He lifted his pencil and began to sketch.

You were both silent the entire time, Steve taking labored breaths as he focused on each aspect of your form. Listening to the pencil scratch calmed your beating heart, and you recalled what Rose had said in the movie Titanic about having Jack sketch her, about how intimate it was. This felt more intimate than any way Steve had taken you, any kiss, any moment in his or your bed. Your heartbeat was so loud, you were sure he could hear it.

“Done.” He broke the silence without warning, blowing eraser chunks off the page. “Do you want to...”

“Please.” You sat up, stretching out your stiff muscles, and joined Steve at the desk. The sketch was beautiful, perfect. It captured everything, from the way one corner of your mouth turned up slightly to your feet, folded in on each other. “Oh, Steve...”

“Do you like it?” He looked up at you, blue eyes staring into your soul.

You cupped his cheeks in your hands, lifting his head and leaning down to kiss him. “Yes. I love it, baby.”

“You called me baby.” He chuckled into your mouth, grabbing the back of your neck. “Though I think I prefer Captain.” He stood, picked you up, and tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing.

You let out a breath as he stalked towards you, unbuttoning his button-down and reaching for the bag from the drugstore. “Yes, Captain,” you whispered.

Sunlight woke Steve from a peaceful slumber. He smiled, remembering his dream, the one where you’d taken him on a picnic and fed him little cakes. Then you’d grown wings and flown into the sky, taking him with you...

“ So, I see you’re awake?”

Steve stiffened. The voice was familiar, but it wasn’t yours. He opened his eyes and felt his chest clench.

Sam stood in front of him, arms crossed, every muscle in his body tense. “Where am I?” Steve asked. “What did you do to me? What did you do to...?”

“We didn’t hurt your girlfriend.” Sam bit his lip. “But she’s not supposed to be yours, is she?”

Steve tried to move his hands and found that they were cuffed to the chair he was on. A tug of his legs revealed the same. He pulled as hard as he could, but they wouldn’t budge. Vibranium , surely.

“Don’t bother.” Sam pulled up another chair and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Don’t do this, Sam.” Steve switched tactics quickly, like Natasha used to tell him to. “You’re a good person.”

Sam laughed. “So was Bucky, huh?”

Steve tensed, then winced. Wanda had been right. Any mention of Bucky and he was instantly frozen.

“What’s stopping her from going back and taking him?” he asked. “She wants the Winter Soldier, what’s keeping her back?”

“The fact that Bucky Barnes is in this world. Going back to a time when you existed, or getting pulled into a time where you do, is dangerous. You ever seen Mr. Peabody and Sherman?” Sam was toying with him, Steve knew it. He’d watched that movie a few years ago, but any and all time travel facts had been thrown out the window when they had gone back to get the stones.

“Yes, I have, but I touched myself when we went back. I kicked his ass, in fact.” Steve could remember the event vividly, since he had almost been choked out by his past self.

Sam shrugged. “The Reaper doesn’t know that, but I’m sure she’d be glad to learn. Simply put, she wants this time’s Bucky out of the way before she brings in another.”

The pieces fell into place all at once. “She’s gonna kill him.”

“Now, Sam, don’t reveal the entire evil plan,” a female voice teased. The same metallic voice that Steve had heard under the streets of New York City. The Blue Reaper slinked her way into the room, touching Sam’s shoulder gently. Sam stood immediately and left, closing the door behind him.

The Reaper regarded Steve with little care as she dropped into the chair Sam had recently vacated. “So. Captain Rogers.” Steve shivered, remembering the way you had so seductively used his title last night. Or was it two nights ago? He had no idea what day it was. “I must say, it was hard to find you.”

“What did you do with her?” Steve spit, on the offensive once again.

“Relax, we left her alone. Better to let her stew than to keep her in the same place as you, don’t you think?” She kicked one leg over the other, her mask contorting as she smirked. “Sorry.”

Steve struggled against his bonds with every intent to tear out the Reaper’s throat. “Stay away from her, you bitch.”

“Language, Captain.” She stood and planted one heeled boot on his thigh. “Or I might have to gag you, too. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” She grabbed his chin and covered his mouth with her hand. “Play nice, Captain.”

He struggled against her grip, but she was much too strong. Her other hand came up and blew a powder Steve was all-too-familiar with into his face. Steve coughed, trying to hold his breath, but the powder went straight into his airways.

“Interesting, isn’t it? The powder is effective, but the liquid form of the aphrodisiac is much worse.” She gestured to the cuffs binding Steve’s hands and feet. “The cuffs are a little more painful than they would be, since they’ve got needles in them. I wouldn’t struggle.”

Steve could feel the aphrodisiac working through his bloodstream already and he took deep breaths, forcing his heart to slow so he could think of a plan. “Why are you doing this?”

The Reaper smirked. “Because your little scientist will never be yours. When this is all over, I’m going to let Sam have her. Then maybe I’ll keep you around as a plaything.” She tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at her. “You’re pretty enough, aren’t you?”

Steve used the last of his resolve to spit in her face. She gritted her teeth and slapped him across the face, hard, then she dropped to her feet and took off one set of cuffs. To his surprise, she twisted them around her own wrist and squeezed, tensing as the needles pierced her skin. She threw them to the side, blood seeping down her hand, and trembled as the drug worked through her body too. Steve couldn’t even struggle when she leaned down and kissed him.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu

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ro-visiting-the-bureau · 6 years ago

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So, You Summoned the Ghosts of Your Ancestors... - TCR Secret Santa 2019

@deadbonessinderhellaton, I was your Secret Santa this year! I decided to go for your prompt “Ghosts are like relatives. Once you let them in, they never leave.” Enjoy, and a very Merry Christmas to you!

Haru didn’t quite burst through the door of the cafe, but she did push it harder than she usually would and was through it before it open all the way. She swiveled her head and spotted Hiromi sitting at a table by the cafe’s fake fireplace, a mug of hot chocolate cradled in her hands. The strawberry blonde looked up as Haru approached and smiled. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

“You left me a message saying ‘We screwed up’ and asked to meet me here asap,” Haru said, taking off her gloves, scarf and hat as a waitress came over to take her order. He asked for a hot chocolate and a small plate of pastries and then turned back to Hiromi when she left. “What happened?”

“Well, you know Tsuge and I have been clearing out his grandmother’s old house so we can move in after the wedding.” Hiromi played with the sapphire engagement ring on her hand. “We found a old journal in the attic, and flipped through it. It was written by Tsuge’s great-great grandfather, and he was a big paranormal-supernatural nut. Wrote down all these rituals that supposedly let you communicate with the dead.”

Haru didn’t need to hear another word to know exactly where this was going. She rested her elbows on the table and put her head in her hands. “You didn’t…”

“Well, we didn’t think they were really real, and Tsuge thought it’d be funny to try it.”

“You’re best friends with a paranormal investigator and you didn’t think there was a chance it was real?” Haru shot Hiromi a glare, making her curl up a bit and give a weak smile.

“Well…”

Haru sighed and folded her arms on the table. “What happened?”

“Well, we found one that was supposed to bring up a old homeowner, and figured, ‘you know what, let’s see if we can learn home more history about this place that Grandma didn’t know’. So we grabbed some old playground chalk, drew one of the sigils on the ground, lit some candles…

“Is that the right shape?” Tsuge asked, kneeling over the circle and checking the sigil drawn on the inside.

“I think so,” Hiromi said, looking from the book to the shape. IT was mostly straight lines, with a few circles, and had particular instruction on how to draw it. Next to her was a old compass and a motley collection of candles, from from the same trunk as the book and compass, the rest dug out from closets and cabinets in the house. “Do you think it’ll be effected by us using the scented candles?”

“I’m not running out to grab tea lights in this weather.” He pointed out the window, where the snow was flying, not storming, but enough to encourage people to stay indoors unless you had to go out, or were a kid wanting to play. “Besides, it’s not like it will actually do anything.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Hiromi shrugged and picked up the compass, holding it over the center of the circle. She took the two white ritual candles and put them at the north and east-northeast positions, which were the most important for the communication aspect they were looking for. Then they placed a small cinnamon candle at southeast, a large pine candle at south west, and a rose-scented tea light at west-northwest. Then Tsuge struck a match and used it to light a stick of incense, which he then used to light the candles in the same order they had been placed, before blowing it out and placing it in the center of the circle with a stand. He and Hiromi stood on opposite sides of the circle, holding the book in both hands over the center of the circle. Tsuge cleared his throat and started to speak.

“Mortuus pacificus invocabo. Siquid erit vobis dicerem nobiscum hac nocte nos sacri.” His pronunciation was not too bad, but any Ancient Romans who might have heard it would find his accent horribly thick and-

( “Well, it wasn’t your first mistake, but your biggest is that you never do an incantation without practicing the correct pronunciation until you can be clearly understood. You’re lucky you didn’t summon a demon with that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure…” )

The couple watched in shock as the ritual circles actually began to glow, a blue-white light that started softly, then grew until it almost hurt to look at. Then a breeze started tickling their ankles, flowing into the center of the circle. Streams of light spun with the breeze, creating a vortex over the sigil. Hiromi gasped as it started to rise and grow up, spinning faster and faster and it climbed past their knees, and almost to their waists. Tsuge quickly read the book, and recited the next line of the spell. “Mortuus: venite, et locutus est ad nos, sic fiat semper.”

The vortex stopped growing, but increased in speed, it’s light almost blinding. Then a low note, separate from the whipping wind, started to grow, louder and louder, until it was recognizable as a scream. Another joined it, soft and then louder, then another, and another, until the strident calls was so loud it was hurting their ears. Then, something slingshotted out of the vortex, just missing Tsuge’s nose, then another buzzed Hiromi’s ear, and more flew out around them and the room before impacting the walls and seeming to disappear. The vortex slowly lost power and sank down to the floor, sending out one last whip of wind which blew out the candles before disappearing completely, and the glow dimmed to nothing.

Hiromi and Tsuge stared at each other for a long moment, before stepping back and letting the book fall to the floor.

"That was…" Tsuge trailed off, completely flabergasted.

"It worked. That was an actual spell." Hiromi raised her hands to her face. "Harry is gonna be so mad." ( "You're darn right I'm mad!" ) "She always says this is not something to take lightly."

"Hey now," Tsuge said, coming over and placing his hands on her arms and rubbing them soothingly. "Maybe it's not so bad. Maybe it's Grandpa, and he'll go away once we have a pleasant conversation with him."

Hiromi sighed and was about to speak when a man's voice behind her cut her off. "Kami, what are you wearing!?"

Hiromi and Tsuge turned and saw a figure by the wall. It was a man, maybe in his mid fifties, hair in a topknot and wearing an old fashioned kimono. "This is not a bathhouse, put some clothes on!"

Hiromi looked down at her sweater and jeans that covered her from neck to wrist and ankle, and then Tsuge's t-shirt and jeans (he always ran warmer than her). They were even wearing socks, so you couldn't see their feet. "Um, sorry, but these are perfectly modest clothes for these days. Can I ask your name, honored ancestor?"

"Modest indeed,” the ghost huffed, coming into the room. “I am Kaneda Fujimaro, and these are the lands of my family. We have lived here for over a hundred years, and I now ask what you are doing here?”

“Can’t you see, you old man,” a new voice said, and a woman came through the wall, maybe a few years younger than Fujimaro, holding a cane, and wearing the same style of kimono. “They’re obviously our descendants, or can you not see your jaw on that young man’s face?”

“Of course I can see it, woman, I’m not blind!”

“Well, you could have fooled me.” The woman floated - actually floated ( “Well of course she did, she’s a ghost!” ) - over to the couple, and reached a hand to touch Tsuge’s face. Tsuge flinched, but turned his head as the woman directed him to, and she gave him a critical eye.

“Yes, you have my husbands jaw, but these cheekbones… they look just like the Yasui family. And I had hoped Naozane was not fool enough to go through with that betrothal.” She patted his cheek and stepped back.

“Now see here, Etsuko” Fujimaro said, “Yasui Sozui was a fine man, and his son was just like him.”

“A fine thief, you mean,” Etsuko turned, raising her cane a little at her husband. “The whole village knows he only got to rich from those ‘trips’ he took to Edo and yet no one has ever gotten a straight answer as to what he did there.”

“A man’s financials are not the business of other men.”

“They are when your granddaughter will marry into that man’s family!”

Etsuko and Fujimaro started bickering, and Hiromi and Tsuge glanced at each other, growing more uncomfortable and awkward by the second. The movement in the doorway caught Hiromi’s eye, and she looked to see another ghost, a younger man maybe in his thirties, waving from the doorway. He made a “come here” motion, and with the only other option being to remain next to the old couple until they remembered they had an audience, the young couple quickly did so.

Once they were in the other room - the younger ghost having moved back to give them room to enter - the ghost breathed a sigh of relief. “I am so sorry you had to deal with my grandparent’s first. They love each other, and the family, but in their old age they constantly got on each other’s nerves. Or at least, I was told by my father, I was only a child when they both died.”

“And who was your father, honorable ancestor?” Tsuge asked.

“Yasui Taroemon, his father was Yasui Sozui. I am Yasui Norio.” He turned and a woman about his age seemed to just appear at his elbow. “And this is my wife, Kaneda Hisae. We’re your… four times great-grandparents?”

“Six times,” Hisae said, and when she smiled, Hiromi could see her fiance in it. “Tetsuo told us he’d had a newborn great-grandson the last time we talked. Tsuge, right?”

“Y-Yes, Nashito Tsuge. And this is my fiance, Takanori Hiromi.” He and Hiromi both bowed, and Norio and Hisae bowed back.

“It is lovely to meet you both,” Norio said. “Though it could have been under better circumstances.”

“I’ll say,” Hiromi said. “You two don’t seem surprised by this.”

“Oh, we’ve done this plenty of times,” Hisae said. “Tsuge’s great grandfather Kentaro loved to talk with us all the time. We had several visits with him, sharing family stories and such. He wrote quite a lot of them down, they should all be in his journals.”

“Mother always wondered about that,” Tsuge said. “She and everyone else assumed he was transcribing for another family, but kept the journals for some reason.”

“Well, you see, when our son Sotan was a baby, we were all here visiting my family when a fire broke out. We were all trapped, but we managed to hand Sotan to his sister and the two managed to escape. Unfortunately, Naoko died from her burns a few days later, and Sotan was adopted by a lovely couple who you know as your ancestors.”

Hiromi suddenly remembered. “Wait, there are four of you here right now, you two, Etsuko and Fijumaro. But I know at least five ghosts were thrown past me from the vortex, and more past Tusge so where are they?”

“Scattered over the neighborhood, probably,” Norio said. “Most of this valley used to belong to either the Yasui or Kaneda families, so they could appear anywhere on the lands. But they’ll all come back here soon, since this is where the summoning happened.” He narrowed his gaze. “Though with how you messed it up, I don’t know the state they’ll be in. The ritual is supposed to only bring back those who were at peace when they died, like Hisae and I, but the different candles might have causes a change to it. They might even be stuck here.”

Hiromi and Tsuge paled at the thought of over a dozen potentially angry ghosts appearing in the house they were going to move into, and the couple looked to each other.

“Call Haru.”

“Right.”

“...And here we are,” Hiromi said, giving a very strained smile. “Tsuge is trying to hold down the fort with Norio and Hisae, but I don’t know how well that’s going.”

Haru pinched the bridge of her nose between her hands, taking a deep breath. “Okay, this is going to be way too big a job for just me. I need to call in the whole team.”

Hiromi’s eyes widened. “You think it’s that bad?”

“Ghosts are like relatives, Hiromi. Once you let them in, they never leave. And you have the unfortunate case of them being actual relatives.” Haru drained the last of her hot chocolate and stood, putting her coat back on. “Come on. You’re gonna be the one to explain to Baron why we need to pull Sephie and Louise off the Osaki case.”

Hiromi gulped, and Haru felt a little pity for her best friend, but it was overruled by irritation. This was not how she wanted to spend her winter vacation.

#TCR Secret Santa #Deadbonessinderellaton #the cat returns #my fics

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