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kareofbears · 4 years

Text

desperate as that sounds

Five times Ryuji ran for Akira (and one time he ran for himself.)

—

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

It’s 4:45 am with the weather sitting at a brutal -3 degrees when Ryuji really starts wishing that he brought another jacket.

People are lined around Akihabara by the hundreds outside of closed electronic stores, and the sun has yet to even rise. Some people are yawning, some are clutching their rapidly cooling coffee in a death grip, and most have dark, purple bags underneath their eyes—proof of the battle scars that they’ve acquired. Every person here had the same goal in mind: To get what they need and get out as quick as possible.

As it turns out, if everyone has that same mindset, it creates the violent, yearly November tradition that is Black Friday.

Glancing around, he notices that people came in packs, teams. Teenagers and pre-pubescent kids are all scuffling around, hyping themselves up and creating strategies for the war to come. The more seasoned veterans of the yearly massacre came in pairs—the smaller the group, the faster you move, the move land you cover.

At the biggest electronic store in a region that’s already been nicknamed ‘Electronic Town,’ he is fourth in line—an impressive feat, especially for a first-timer. But it came with a heavy toll: he is completely and utterly alone.

”Skull, do you read me?”

Well, physically alone, anyway.

“Loud and clear,” he replies, readjusting the mic in his ear. “Not that I mind, but what’s with the codenames?”

Futaba scoffs. “You think Black Friday is just about the physical aspect? Foolish boy—the psychological aspects are half the battle. If I get you into the mindset that we’re in a Palace, then you’ll get into infiltration mode, and you’ll be OP compared to the nerds out there.”

“Ooo, I like it! Your brain is effin’ galaxy sized!”

“I do what I can for my faithful pack mule.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

His deal with Futaba had been a simple one. She helps Ryuji navigate the horrors of Akihabara during Black Friday in exchange that he acts as what is essentially a drug trafficker sans the drugs. Despite her rigorous societal training she’d undergone with the Thieves, something about entering a borderline stampede still seems somewhat unappealing to her. Besides, he doesn’t mind. He’d always wanted to do something nice for Futaba anyway, and the store that has her computer thing is the same store that holds what he needs.

”Five minutes to go,” her voice crackles into his ear. ”Infiltration route—go!”

Their deal had also come in with an intense tutorial session that ended up lasting until one in the morning. “Floor 4, down 3 aisles, 8 steps in, turn right, second shelf, grab a box that says ‘GTX graphics card.’ Pink, if possible.”

“A+, Skull! You know, if you can memorize that, I seriously don’t get why you’re failing English verbs.”

“Please, this is actually important.”

Futaba cackles. “Now you’re speaking my language. With your legs and my navigation, this’ll basically be a Tuesday afternoon in Leblanc.”

People around him are starting to straighten up, some going as far as to remove the extra layer of clothing and shoving it in backpacks for maximum speed and minimum restrictions. “Damn, people here look more intense than some dudes in my track meets.”

“If you’re throwing out portable chargers with 30-hour battery life for only 800 yen, you’d be a little intense too.”

Ryuji scoffs and begins to stretch, being extra sure to get his right thigh. “I’m plenty intense. Just last Saturday, I almost beat the Big Bang Burger challenge.”

“Pretty sure Akira beat that on his second week in Tokyo. You know, you still haven’t told me why you’re bothering with this whole Black Friday mess. I didn’t peg you for an electronics type of guy, and your phone is as crappy as your posture.”

“Rude! But I can’t argue with that.” He starts to run in place, and for a brief second, he wonders if he should’ve packed a protein shake.

“Well, too late now. If your thing sells out because you didn’t want to give your Navi information, that’s on you.”

“Gimme some credit, Futaba,” an employee who looks equal parts sleep-deprived and terrified approaches the glass doors. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m failing either of us this morning.”

The glass slides open, and as if sunlight was released from the captivity of the clouds, or perhaps a meteor just broke through the earth’s atmosphere, the people start pushing, shoving, and flooding inside. The crowd looked both impenetrable and unwavering; an unstoppable force and an immovable object rolled into one giant stream of desperate shoppers.

Ryuji spares a split-second to crack his neck. Mission Start.

The moment he breaks through the initial threshold, people who were only one step behind him suddenly became ten, twenty, thirty. Weaving through crowds and aisles with the precision of a seamstress, Ryuji evades it all with ease.

”Skull, status report.”

“Smooth sailing, Oracle!” He ducks as an overly buff businessman turns around with a 3-metre pole used for studio lighting threatens to bash his head in. “You’re totally right about the codenames, by the way. It’s almost like I’ve got Captain with me.”

“Right?” She laughs. “It’s all about the mindset.”

Ryuji turns, and finally gets to the stairs—the most brutal section and the biggest gamble. It’s the reason why it was essential that he’s one of the first in line. Once the stairs get jammed with people, it’s game over. Making a mad dash up four flights of stars, he thanks any God that may be that Palaces are fantastic for rehab.

He makes it to the top, panting. It’s empty, save for a few nervous-looking employees. He hopes the smile he throws their way came off as ‘pleasant and grateful for their service’ rather than ‘a delinquent asshole who might steal loads of shit.’

“Down 3 aisles, 8 steps,” he mutters to himself as he quickly scans the fourth floor. “Turn right, second shelf,” eyes landing on his target, he grins. “I effin’ rock.”

”You got it?”

“Of course I did!” He fist pumps before swiping the box. In his excitement, he nearly runs over to give a random employee a high-five. “Alright Oracle, you’re up.”

”I love you so much in a non-weird way. Okay,” he hears the clacking of keys on the other side of the mic. “What do you need?”

“Two words: game console.”

The clacking stops. “You’re joking.”

Ryuji snorts. “I ain’t waking up at 3 in the morning for a joke.”

”Those are hard enough to get as is, and on a day like this—”

“So you can’t do it?”

In the same way every one of the thieves know they could bait Ryuji with a few choice words, it’s a lesser-known fact that Futaba is quite nearly as bad when it comes to open defiance. “Jerk. Of course I can.”

“Then let’s do it!”

“Ugh, fine!” The clacking resumes, more vigorously. “Yikes, only 3 left. Make it quick!”

“Got it,” he replies. He turns around and his stomach drops as he sees people rushing in. “What floor?”

“Third.”

Ryuji groans. The stairs, with people packed in like sardines, are a circus. It would take at least two minutes to try and go down a single flight of stairs. The elevator is even worse, and he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it had already started to malfunction. Only one choice, then.

He takes a deep breath. “Pray for me.”

”Godspeed, soldier.”

Ryuji, like a wild animal on the loose in the streets of Tokyo, jumps on the handrails and begins his descent that way, begging to the skies that he doesn’t slip and create a domino effect that knocks down a dozen people.

In thirty seconds flat (with no small amount of cursing from both the customers and himself) he jumps off and lands (tumbles) onto the third floor, grinning triumphantly. Eat your heart out, Sumire.

“Oracle, I’m here. Almost broke my ankles. Where to?”

”Straight ahead,” she replies. ”Only one left, though. Better make it quick.”

His eyes land on the last game console, and he sees someone making their way towards it. “Not a problem.”

Ryuji sprints.

Throwing every societal rule and common courtesy into the air, he makes a mad dash and, somehow, miraculously does not bump into anyone or knock down any huge shelves.

In approximately 3 seconds, he grabs his treasure and yells a very loud but completely genuine “sorry!” over his shoulder as he half runs back to the stairs, face red for multiple reasons.

Delving back into the sea of the crowd, trying to navigate himself to the cash register, he sighs. “I’m going to hell.”

”Mission success, then?”

“I had to steal it from some guy! I feel so bad. What if he’s like, buying it for his long lost son or something?”

”Whatever! That’s just part of the Black Friday spirit. Congrats! At least you finally got a game console.”

“Huh? Oh, I already had one.”

Static crinkles in his ear, before, ”WHAT!?”

“Ow! Don’t yell!”

”You already had one and you still did this shopping run?”

“Yeah…?”

”Why?! Are you gonna sell it? Are you one of those sleazy men who take advantage of the good will of gamers, Sakamoto?”

“Hell no!”

”So—“

“Oops, almost at the front of the cash register. I’ll drop off the goods at Akira’s. Talk to you later, shortie.”

Click.

”Wha— Hey! Ryuji!” Silence. “Ugh!”

————

After a much-deserved nap, Futaba climbs up the stairs to Akira’s attic.

“The star has arrived!” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Where’s Ryuji?”

“He left,” Akira answers. He’s looking at something on his worktable. “Your stuff is on the bed.”

Futaba whoops and snatches up the little plastic bag. Peering inside, she sees an adorable GTX hot pink graphics card, and a note. In a horrific scrawl, it writes: dont tell him plz ;)))

She looks up quizzically when her eyes land on Akira’s desk: A shiny new game console.

“Um…”

“Hmm?” he looks up. “Oh, Ryuji dropped it off. Said his mom won it at work, and since he already had one, he gave it to me. Nice, right?”

She opens her mouth, before closing it with a clack. Just two weeks ago, Ryuji had asked Akira in the group chat if they could play video games at his place. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget about Akira’s situation: false accusation, an attic for a room, no definitive meals, not even a proper bathroom in the building, but Akira plays it off like it’s easy. He answered by making a joke that he’s too poor for something like that when you can buy faux battle axes and realistic shotguns instead. Everyone had forgotten about that interaction.

But apparently, Ryuji hadn’t.

He’s an idiot, Futaba thinks. To which boy she’s referring to, she’s not sure.

“Yeah,” is what she says instead. “It’s nice.”

====

The dust motes flying around the attic of Leblanc are lovely. Swirling in senseless formations, floating through the still air like snow. The way none of them collide with each other, as if they have some sort of motion detector that tells them to move out of the way. It’s pleasing to look at.

It’s a shame Ryuji doesn’t give a single shit about them at this moment.

He’s sitting on Akira’s bed, back pressed against the window sill with his hair tipped up, staring unfocused at the wooden beams, eyes glazed over. He’s been like this for the better part of the day, and now the evening is slipping by him. Time continues ticking on like a rigged bomb; an ongoing reminder of how many seconds he’s losing, and how much more he can lose.

He’s considered moving. To walk around the room, shift the dust that’s surely settled on him. Getting up, stretching his legs, outwardly expelling some of his trapped, balled up energy is a good idea. Healthy, even, if those shitty YouTube videos he’s watched on his phone about anger management were on to something. But he can’t. He shouldn’t.

Amidst all the uncertainty and the wound-up anxiety that has currently made permanent residence deep inside his core, he knows that if lets his joints unlock, he’s going to fucking lose it.

Slam a fist inside the dry wood, tear up a blanket, throw the adorable ramen bowl he gave Akira against the wall until it shatters into a hundred pieces. He’s so terrified of ruining this room that he won’t even give himself the option. And Ryuji would rather let hell freeze over than scare Futaba again in his fit of fucked-up rage that comes with the package that is Sakamoto Ryuji.

So he’s stuck on the bed for God knows how long.

Footsteps come up, and he doesn’t need to look down to know who’s going to chew him out. If it’s not Akira that’s going to chide him out of his stupor (which it isn’t, even though Ryuji would do anything if it means that Akira’s back here with them), then they’d send in someone who’d drag him out of it with her nails perfectly manicured.

“You look terrible.”

“Screw off,” Ryuji spits automatically, and he cringes inwardly. Ann doesn’t deserve the sharp end of his horrible mood. It’s not her fault that it feels like his insides feel like they’re trying to eat their way out.

She ignores him and moves to hop on top of the old work desk. The wood creaks underneath her. “You’ve been here all day.”

“I know.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

“Yes. No.” He feels Ann’s stare burn into the side of his face—a ghost of Carmen’s presence. “I don’t know.”

“He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Irritation swells in him. She’s never learned to take a hint in her life. “Really? Are you seriously saying that?”

“Are you saying he would?”

“I’m saying he’s too busy having the living shit beat out of him to see me like this.”

His body twitches, and that’s all he needed for his resolve to break down. He jumps from the bed, feet landing heavily enough that he’s sure they can all hear him from the floor below. Unconsciously, his feet pace around the small room; quick with agitation but heavy with dread. Anything to distract from doing something stupid.

“You’re worried about me, what, not sleeping? For lying down on this damn bed for too long? Screw that. Akira’s being grilled like cheap meat for the past couple of days and you’re expecting me to act normal about it? That’s bullshit.”

Bad. This is bad. His fingers are already curling in his fists, eager and all too willing to be used. He settles for balling the edge of his shirt instead.

“He isn’t here. That’s the fact, isn’t it? And what the fuck am I doing about it? Freaking out? Trying not to throw a tantrum about it like some kind of stupid kid? Am I really this messed in the head that everyone on the team is—-is hiding from me like I’m some kind of—” he cuts himself off.

Delinquent.

Ryuji takes a deep breath, fully inhaling and slowly exhaling. He focuses on the dust motes again. In and out. Countdown from ten. He can do this. He can get a grip on himself. Thank God it was Ann that came up—if it had been anyone else, he doesn’t think he can put his pride aside as easily. (Unless it was Futaba. God, he loves her so much.)

For a while, it was silent except for his breathing; it stuttered occasionally, but eventually it evens out. Ann only watches from her perch.

When he feels stable enough, Ryuji drops to sit on the hardwood.

“Okay?” she asks. Ann never babies him when he gets like this—she’s good that way.

“Okay.” And he really is. Not completely, of course not. His nerves weren’t strung as tight, but he still feels a heavy weight right in his stomach.

She hops off the desk and goes to sit in front of him on the floor. Crossing her legs, Ann waits. They regard each other for a long minute.

“He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met,” he says. It feels weird saying this out loud, instead of repeating the mantra in his head like a broken record. “If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.”

She rolls her eyes. “Duh.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know that.”

“Sooner than later, his dumb ass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.”

“You bet he is.”

“And I get to yell at him as much as I want.”

“Get in line.”

“I’m not going to lose him tonight.”

Ann reaches over—slowly, giving him plenty of room to shift away—and places a hand on his knee. “You’re not going to lose him tonight.”

Ryuji laughs, a little breathy but still genuine. He prods at her hand. “When’d you get so good with me, Takamaki?”

“I do the Lord’s work around here, free of charge.” She grins, before her tone drops again. “Can you do something for me, though?”

“Lay it on me.”

Ann pulls back and leans on a propped hand, her blue eyes piercing. “When Akira comes back, and he will—”

“And he will. No doubt about it.”

“Obviously. He’s the best person for this. But when Akira comes back, he’s…” Ann gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “He’s not going to be okay, Ryuji.”

Somewhere in his mind, he already knew what she was going to say. While the biggest of his worries is that he’d never see Akira walk through the doors of Leblanc again, there was a quieter fear. A very specific fear, one that Ryuji knows all too well. Because stories don’t just end at the climax of a single event—they keep going. It’s the fear of what happens once he does see Akira.

The aftermath.

The bell chimes downstairs.

His heart lurches, and he makes the briefest of eye contact with Ann before he’s gone.

He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met.

It’s like his feet have a mind of their own.

If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.

In an instant, he’s scrambling towards the stairs on all fours before pushing himself up.

Sooner than later, his dumbass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.

His hand finds its hold on the old wooden railing as he sprints his way down. More than once, he almost trips and bangs his head into the wall.

And I get to yell at him as much as I want.

Rounding the corner, he jumps on the landing, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots up his thigh. He ignores the stares from everyone else. Looking up his breath catches in his throat. Gray eyes meet his brown ones. He takes one step forward, and then another. And then he sprints the rest.

He’s going to be okay.

Ryuji stops himself right in front of him, an arms-length away. Akira’s face looked like it’s been through hell and back. Split lip, black eye, bruised cheekbone. An intense fury flares up his spine when he sees the grime and dirt up along his temple.

He hesitates.

As much as he wants to reach forward, close the gap, to make sure that this boy that he can’t afford to lose is real… he can’t do it.

Because he knows what would happen if he tries to cross a boundary that isn’t ready to be crossed—he might not be ready. Ryuji could hurt him by touching any injuries he doesn’t know about (God, how much more is he hiding in there? He’s this close to either throwing up or throwing a punch). But what he’s most scared about, what he’s terrified of doing, is touching Akira in the state of mind he’s in right now. For someone to grip him, grab him, even just brush past him right now, it might be too much. Judging by how beat up he looks just from his face? That does shit to people. That changes you.

Ryuji would know. So he keeps his distance.

Akira’s eyes turn dark, and for a second, Ryuji is terrified that he must’ve overstepped a boundary.

Then he throws his arms around Ryuji, the force knocking them both back by a couple of steps.

“Akira?” he asks, bewildered. Never in their friendship has he seen Akira act like this. It sends alarm bells ringing through his head. “What—”

“Don’t,” Akira cuts off, voice hoarse and quiet, so quiet that even this close, Ryuji is straining to hear him. The arms around him tighten. “Don’t be like that. Please. I can’t. Not right now, Ryuji.”

It hits him all at once. And in his sixteen years of living, Ryuji doesn’t think he’s ever been stupider.

Akira’s been trapped in an interrogation room with nothing but a bunch of make-believe police officers. He got the shit beat out of him, had to stage his own suicide.

And Ryuji just tried to push him away.

He lets his arms wrap around Akira tightly; not too tight, but enough to make sure he won’t slip away from him again. (Never again. Not if he can help it.)

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers. Tilting his head up, he stares at the soft lighting of Leblanc, forcing his lungs to breathe evenly—not for fear of losing his temper, but for fear of exposing the tears silently streaming down his face. “So fucking glad.”

Akira doesn’t answer. He only buries his face deeper into Ryuji’s shoulder.

Ann was right—Akira isn’t okay. Not for now, not for awhile. It’s up to Ryuji and everyone else in their group of friends to fix that. That’s fine. They’ll all take as long as they need. He isn’t okay right now, but he will be. They can work on that.

But one thing was clear.

I’m not going to lose him tonight.

====

Summer in Mementos is pretty gross.

Granted, it’s always nasty in here—there’s a perpetual air of moisture, like the inside of a whale, if Ryuji had ever been in one (he’s basing that off of an American movie Ann showed them last week; he didn’t even know it was possible for a fish to get lost in the ocean). There’s also the ongoing sound of trains passing by them on loop, and to him, trains are just inherently cramped and humid and always too sticky for his liking.

Of course, there’s the disgusting, weird amalgamated Shadows that litter every level of Mementos. At least in Palaces they sort of resemble something from the real world, but he guesses they didn’t even bother with these ones. The worst part of all this is that right now, it’s hot, but not hot enough for the Shadows to process a heat wave.

So essentially, they’re fighting with additional bucket loads of sweat, but with none of the usual reward that comes with it.

Well, not that they needed it.

“Fox.”

“As you wish.”

Yusuke’s boots skid to a halt as he points his katana at the fast-moving Shadow, the tip perfectly still. “Your assistance, Goemon.”

They’re on their weekly Mementos grind, the list Mishima keeps updating finally too long to ignore. (Akira hates it when things pile up. It’s a big reason why Ryuji hastily cleaned up every time he wanted to come over. Now though, he doesn’t even bother.)

The current All-Star team includes Yusuke, Makoto, Ryuji, and Akira, with the rest of them keeping a close eye in case they need a quick shift in strategy.

From his katana, black ice crawls in the ground beneath rusted train tracks, the air suddenly chilly despite the humidity that was there a moment ago. Frost shoots forward, encasing the legs of the Shadow only to shatter with a strong jerk forward. It roars, the ear-piercing sound causing the scattered debris around them to vibrate. Akira clicks his tongue.

Strong against ice. Easy fix. Ryuji mouths the words along with Akira when he says, “Panther, you’re up.”

“Finally!”

Ann darts in, high-fiving Yusuke as he rushes out. Ryuji can see Makoto pat Yusuke on the back, sympathy etched on her expression and Futaba mussing his hair. He always took it the hardest when he had to be switched out.

Akira’s gloved fingers brush the edge of his monochrome mask. “Come, Principality.”

As if a human version of justice has been summoned down to earth, the winged statue floats for a moment, eyes filled with scorn as she casts a simple, yet effective memory loss spell. The Shadow shakes its head aggressively. It works, but it won’t hold for long.

“Skull.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

He grins and sprints right, squeezing into the Shadow’s blindside. It tries to twist around to take a swipe at him, but Ryuji is too fast—he slides right between its legs to confuse and disorient it. Once it seems like it completely lost sight of him, he raises his hand to grip the edge of his black mask. “Come on out, Captain!”

It’s a classic tactic; make the enemy lose focus, stun it, and stop it.

A pirate straight out of the Caribbean materializes from the embers of his mask—Captain Kidd in all of his glory regards the Shadow with a look of disdain before sparks fly from the hull of his ship, and an intense streak of lightning bursts forth, shocking its target like something from a regrettable movie about torture, knocking it down to the ground, a buzz perceptible even from here. He might have overdone it.

Ann whistles. “You didn’t even let me get a chance with it.”

“You can have the next million Shadows we bump into, I promise.” He calls Captain back into his mask, fragmented pieces forming together impossibly quick. “We good, Leader?”

Akira nods. “Just let me get the loot,” he smiles at Ryuji. “Awesome voltage on that last one, Skull.”

A grin stretches over his face before he can stop himself. He won’t deny it—getting a compliment from Joker was always something he filed away for later.

He’s too busy feeling pride surge through him that he can’t even bother to get ticked off when he hears Morgana scoff. “It doesn’t matter how good that attack was; he got in the way of Lady Panther’s finishing blow. That’s a crime in my eyes.”

“But doesn’t that just mean he saved her from doing anything?” Makoto raises an eyebrow. “Technically, he prevented any danger from befalling her, right?”

“Queen, as a gentleman, I have an obligation to tell you that that is a sexist notion.”

“You did not just say that.”

Something makes Ryuji pause. Immediately, his eyes flicker around them automatically. He tunes their chattering out, and finds himself tapping his foot, a slight jitter overcoming him. His nerves are trying to tell him something. Or maybe he’s imagining it? Is it just an aftershock from the intense lightning he cast out? No. It’s been too long since he’s had any problem with electric moves, and he’s never had problems from ones that he threw out himself.

Something was wrong, and he can’t put his finger on it.

He rattles his brain trying to figure out what it is. No one’s hurt, everyone’s safe and together. Well, mostly together, since Akira’s still approaching the Shadow—

A cold sweat drapes the back of his neck. Akira is still approaching the Shadow.

The Shadow hasn’t disintegrated yet.

“Akira—!”

The name slips past his lips, codenames forgotten. In slow motion, Ryuji sees Shadow’s body tense, its mouth frothing with what looks like liquid magma made from pits of hell—specializes in curse, and a strong one at that; Ryuji can feel the potency of its malignancy from where he’s standing. He watches as Akira stiffens, fingers twitching towards his mask, ready to retaliate, or at the very least, defend. And like a domino effect of bad luck, Ryuji feels bile rise to his throat.

Akira is good at what he does. Infuriatingly good. Took the whole Metaverse bullshit like a fish to water. But even he can’t switch Personas the same moment he summons them.

Principality would crumple like tissue paper against the Shadow. And Akira along with it.

You’re too late, a voice whispers in his head. You wouldn’t make it.

A heartbeat passes. And then Ryuji is flying.

It’s never too late, screams back something stronger, something unshakeable. Not ever. Especially not for him.

His boots hit the ground like the first strike of lightning amidst a storm—impossibly fast and unexpected. Lungs wheezing and legs throbbing, he crossed the distance in the span of a breath.

The Shadow throws the curse at Akira, red and black and filled to the brim with intensity, and Akira’s eyes can only widen, pupils dilated wildly to the point where there’s only black—a mirror of what’s about to hit him if Ryuji isn’t fast enough.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Ryuji shoves Akira, hard enough that he crashes onto the ground and he can hear the breath forcefully leave his lungs, and suddenly Ryuji can’t hear anything at all. His fingertips are fire and ice, his sense of surroundings have completely dissipated. Any energy in his body is being drained, like a dam cracked into millions of pieces—and all he’s left with is air. Vaguely, he can hear a choking noise, a broken sort of sound.

The blow is not just a violent one—it never is, with curse attacks. Instead of just feeling his skin bruised or blood running down his temple, he also feels himself get weaker, his mind growing heavier. An attack on the mind and body; a perfect cocktail of fucked up.

The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is the glint from Akira’s knife slicing through the Shadow’s throat.

====

Tokyo is currently at a wicked thirty two degrees.

The sun radiates scorching temperatures down from the sky, the concrete eagerly absorbing every bit of its heat, making something akin to walking across hot coals. It’s hot enough that a mirage is visible to the naked eye. It’s hot enough that every ice cream store has a forty-minute line-up. It’s hot enough that no birds were flying, in fear that they may truly be fried by the sun above them.

Basically, it’s hot as hell.

“Ryuji-chan, pick up the pace!”

But Haru is more vicious than any conceivable temperature.

Looking like a survivor who was lost in the desert for several days, Ryuji lets out a half-garbled battle cry and sprints the last dozen meters. Haru clicks her stopwatch.

Sitting on a lovely lilac blanket, she tsks from underneath the shade. “Three seconds slower.”

“Ugh!” he collapses beside her on the cool grass. If she looks at him from a certain angle, she can see the steam positively radiating off of him. “I’m going to beat the living shit out of the sun.”

“You know I’d support you in anything you do, Ryuji-chan, but I don’t think you’d be fast enough to catch it,” Haru says. She hands him a cold water bottle. “Drink slowly.”

He rolls over so that he can squint up at her. “You’re mean.”

“I’m harsh,” she corrects, shaking the bottle in her hand. “There’s a difference.”

He takes it. “Have you done this before?”

“Helped someone train in running? No. But,” she rummages through her pastel pink tote bag, and proudly shows him a handful of books. He squints at them. “Since I’m so new to the group and everyone has such broad interests, I decided to try reading up on them! Did you know that drinking cold water after running results in less dehydration than drinking warm water?”

Ryuji stares at her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For saying you’re mean. You’re not mean. You’re real nice, Haru.”

She smiles at him and pats his head, despite the overflowing heat and moisture settled on top. “You’re very sweet Ryuji-chan, but that’s not going to make me go easy on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the tough-love kind of coach.” Ryuji sits up, cracking open the seal. Chugging down the water, he makes eye contact with Haru before slowing down substantially.

He dumps the rest of it on his head, sighing and shivering in relief. “That’s the good shit.”

“Why not wait for the sun to go down a bit?” she suggests. “The heat is really scorching, and there’s still plenty of time to keep training later.”

“Nah,” he stretches his arms behind his head before he stands again. “I gotta keep going while I still can.”

Haru frowns. “Overexertion isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Don’t you worry your fluffy head! I may be stupid, but I know when to stop when I gotta.”

“I really think you should rest for a bit.”

“I will when I’m done, I promise.”

“You looked rough in that last lap—”

“Haru,” Ryuji is grinning, but his tone leaves no room for argument. “I’m going to keep training.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Haru’s shoulder sags slightly. “Alright.” He’s about to say something when she cuts him off. “But only if you tell me why you’re so insistent.”

Ryuji shrugs. “If that’s what it’ll take to prove it to you, then sure. It’s kinda stupid, though.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Oh, wait till you hear it,” he laughs, a little shy. “So you know how Mona and Futaba are, like, the Metaverse experts? And Makoto is the big brain? And Yusuke does the whole calling card part?” Haru nods, and he continues. “Well, I’m not really… anything. Ann already took the role of moral support and there’s no way in hell I’m the ‘brain’ in anything. Jeez, last time I picked up a paintbrush was in kindergarten. So I figured, I’d be the fast one, you know? The one that can get to someone fast enough to help them out.” Ryuji’s grin turns into something softer; less edge and more fond. It does something to her heart. “And if it’d help ‘Kira down the line, then it’d be worth it, right?”

Haru stays silent.

“Anyway! That’s enough of that cheesy shit.” He moves back to the track, running shoes scuffing at the concrete. “Wish me luck, maybe I can actually catch up to the sun this time. Teach it a lesson.”

“Ryuji.“

Looking back, he gives her a curious look. “Yeah?”

Haru hesitates.

I never once thought you were stupid. You’ve given so much more to the team than you can imagine. You have no idea how many times you’ve helped Akira without even lifting a finger.

“I have a cooler full of water behind me, so… please try your best out there.”

Ryuji gives her an enthusiastic salute. “Yes ma'am!”

He runs off, the sun continuing to beat down him relentlessly.

====

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryuji knew they were all going to die someday. It’s inevitable. The circle of life, the winds of time, la vie en rose, etc.

He just didn’t expect it to happen at the age of 16, on the sinking cognitive ship of their next Prime Minister, wearing a wack-ass leather outfit surrounded by his panicking friends.

“We’re going to die!” Futaba wails, knees shaking uncontrollably to the point where she can hardly keep standing. “I don’t know how to swim!”

“It’ll be fine,” Akira spits through gritted teeth. He’s far tenser than anyone else, red gloves formed into fists and eyes constantly darting around to see what can save their lives. “We just need to focus.”

Makoto points to something on their right and shouts, “There! A lifeboat!”

Sprinting down the slowly escalating ramp, their eyes widen at the single lifeboat propped at the very top of the bow—which is slowly approaching a ninety degree angle. They all had one thought in their minds.

“We’re not going to make it in time,” Yusuke says, quietly.

Akira bangs his fist into a nearby column. “To hell with that. There’s no way I’m letting us die here.”

A heavy silence falls over them. The air is practically crackling with electricity and pure agitation, but there’s also a determination between all of that. Everyone’s overcome with a need to protect their friends and teammates, but they were at a loss of what to do. A quiet realization overcomes the group—there wasn’t going to be a miracle to save them.

Ryuji’s eyes land on Akira. He’s scanning the area, Third Eye activated but unable to pick up anything that isn’t the lifeboat. There’s no panic in his clear, gray eyes, but the terror in it is the most prevalent out of anyone present.

It hits Ryuji, all at once. The boy in front of him may be his age, and even younger than some members of their group, but he is undoubtedly the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves. Every decision he made had led them here, in this moment, in their imminent death. And if he lets them all get taken, whether it’s through the ocean or the approaching explosions behind him, the truth of the matter is Akira feels that he would be responsible. That it’s his fault that a cognitive boat would take the lives of his friends.

Yeah. That’s not happening.

Ryuji clenches his eyes shut for a few seconds and slowly opens them. He begins to jump in place, hyping himself up.

“Skull…?” Haru asks, brows furrowing.

“Hang tight, guys,” he says, taking quick breaths. He can do this. “I’ll nab the boat.”

A chorus of gasps and heated objections rang through the air, and Akira steps forward, more shaken than Ryuji’s ever seen him. “No. Skull, please—”

Ryuji throws him a wobbly grin, more for Akira than himself. In one smooth motion, he jumps down and hits the ground running.

“No!”

Immediately, he feels his knees and thighs begin to protest, only intensifying the further he sprints up. For a minute, if Ryuji closes his eyes, he can imagine that he’s in a meet. A race. That the screams he hears behind him are his track mates, and not teammates, friends, best friends that would die if he failed to get to the boat fast enough.

He pushes himself even more.

It’s a miracle that he gets to the raft before his legs give out, and he feels a satisfying crank underneath his palms when he rotates the lever. As he throws a thumbs up at his friends, seeing them safe, healthy, alive, he feels relieved beyond words.

He makes eye contact with Akira, and he really should’ve expected the explosion that comes next.

====

His ceiling has seventy-nine plastic stars.

Ryuji stares up at it from his bed, arms crossed behind his head; they’d long since lost their cheap light. It was raining hard outside, enough to rattle against his window like pebbles calling for his attention. He ignores them.

It’s been years since he got those stars—dating all the way back in middle school. He got into a bad habit of sneaking out in the middle of the night to look at the sky from the roof of their apartment building. It scared the shit out of his ma when she finally caught him, scolded him to hell and back. By the end, they found a compromise: she’d buy him a crap ton from the hundred yen store, and they’d stick it up together. When they did, it kept falling down, so she went back and bought him a bottle of superglue. Now you can’t take them off, even if you tried to use a little scraper.

It bothered him, for a while. Young boys were cruel, and anyone who came to visit always poked fun of him for it. It wasn’t until he visited Akira’s room one day, saw how pleased he was that Yusuke bought them for him that he couldn’t help but revel at his own stars again, after all this time.

Ryuji twists his body sideways, ripping his eyes away from the plastic figures. Enough of that.

His eyes have long adjusted to the darkness that surrounds him, allowing a clear view of his room in the limited moonlight. Laundry splayed around his tatami mat from his sprints training today, gaming controllers scattered on the center table from when Akira came over a few days ago. That was a blast. He helped him beat a boss he’s been stuck on for weeks, and Akira beat it like it was nothing, it was the coolest shit ever—

Ryuji forces himself to flip over to glare at the wall. Sleep. That’s a better idea.

He takes a deep breath, forcing his breathing to go steady. There’s lots to do tomorrow—school is a drag, but they plan on meeting up at Leblanc afterwards. The thought allows his muscles to relax. Really, the atmosphere of Leblanc is just so pleasing to him. The warm lighting, the run-down booths, even the smell is a welcome presence. Well, that’s mostly because Akira drags it with him wherever he—

Slowly, his eyes open.

It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?

He rolls onto his back, in a position to stare at the stars again. The rain hammers on.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid.

It’s not a self jab, it wasn’t manifested by some sort of long-standing insecurity. It’s a fact. He’s never been good with a book, never done anything half-decent by picking up a pencil, his mind was never programmed to listen and retain information in long classes. It’s definitely not like he’s the brains of the Thieves, never a strategist of some kind. His ma encouraged him to take on a tutor in the past, and he’d rather bite a finger off than spend her money on wasted potential, so he found himself wandering the streets of Central Street as a way to pass time.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid, but even he knows he’s irrevocably, completely, stupidly in love with Kurusu Akira.

He sits up and ruffles his hair, frustrated. There are too many things wrong with that sentence, too many things that can go wrong because of that sentence. Of course, he finds the one thing that can mess up the unshakeable foundation that he and Akira built for each other. He must’ve really pissed off some God upstairs for him to have a hell-bent queer awakening with his best friend.

No, that’s wrong. It was the furthest thing from hell-bent—it was soft, it was gray, it was raining, and most importantly, it took its time.

They were halfway through Kamoshida’s Palace when Ryuji realized it; the sheer amount of power that hindsight gave him made him pause long enough to get clocked out by a Shadow.

Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter, because he would never, ever do anything to fuck up what he has. Not again.

Wait, no, that’s not true. Even before Kamoshida, he’s never had something like this. He’s never had someone like him. He’s never had someone who’s so entirely on the same wavelength as him, who’d have his back even when his was against a wall. Kurusu Akira is…ethereal. Out of this world. Cool as fuck. (Hot as fuck, too.) If you lined up the entirety of Tokyo and told him he could pick one. One person out of the whole lineup to be his friend, he’d have his answer in a heartbeat.

See, now that isn’t something that changed with hindsight—Ryuji’s known that he’s been in love with Akira since before they completed Kamoshida’s Palace. And when he figured it out, he didn’t feel shock. His eyes didn’t widen, his heart didn’t start thumping like crazy. It’s more like he just scratched his head in a huh kind of way. It felt like his life had been waiting for that day in April, like everything was at a standstill until he finally met Kurusu Akira. It made sense. Everything just makes sense when Akira’s involved.

Which just makes this all the more fucked up.

He knocks his head back against the wall, eyes stuck on the raindrops’ rapidly moving shadows on his bedroom floor. Karma. That’s probably what’s happening. The world still hasn’t forgiven him for losing his shit, so they decided to make him pine for the only person that he can’t afford to lose.

He can’t even stomach the idea of trying to get over it, to try and put distance between himself and Akira. He spent a lifetime waiting for a miracle, for someone who didn’t know existed. He’s not giving up a single second of time with him. That’s probably why the world relentlessly shits on him; he’s selfish enough to keep the feelings that he has. But he can’t bring himself to regret that decision. Not with the way his breath hitches in his throat whenever Akira walks into the room.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. He’s accepted it. Just like how the sky is blue, or that he well and truly hates Calculus. It’s a factor of life.

The rain seemed to fall harder, droplets sounding like rigorous hail against the windowpane. He lets out a long yawn.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

That’s not the reason why he can’t sleep at night.

Akira is a quiet guy. He gets his point across with as few words as possible, as if each letter costs him fifty yen to say out loud. So he speaks through his expression; a quirk of his brow, a tilt of his head, a certain smile is enough to carry half of the conversation.

And, every once in a while, Akira gets a look.

It comes up at the weirdest times—when the two of them baton pass in the Metaverse, when Ryuji eats ramen too fast and gets sick, when he helps an old lady cross the street. Plenty of times it’s because Ryuji is doing something incredibly stupid (like when he said that the square root of sixteen is six, because if you just get rid of the one, then that makes sense, right?), or when they’re laughing so hard neither of them can breathe. But sometimes it comes up in quieter moments, too. The two of them talking quietly in the attic at Leblanc, or when Akira confesses that he’s relieved Ryuji’s always there for him. (As if there would ever be a time where he won’t be.)

The look is subtle enough to miss but easy to find if someone knows what they’re looking for. The usual attentiveness that resides in Akira’s eyes disappears, in its place a softer gaze; his pupils get dilated, and the edge of his eyes get all crinkled like Valentine’s tissue paper. A half-smile rests on his lips, never quite turning into a full-blown grin, but that’s okay. For some reason, it all reminds Ryuji of the moon. Of soft moonlight. Of streetlamps on empty roads.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s a small, tiny, infinitesimal chance that his best friend might love him back.

His eyelids slide shut, though he knows that it won’t be enough to let him rest.

Realistically, he’s probably wrong. Akira isn’t in love with him, and he’s only seeing what he wants to see. With every eligible person seeming to fall in love with him at some point in time, how would it even be possible that Akira would love him?

He rubs his eyes, desperate to get rid of the unending fatigue that’s plagued him for months on end. It doesn’t work.

Bad excuse. Akira does love him, just like he loves everyone he encounters and befriends and ends up risking his life for. Ryuji’s surprised Akira hasn’t passed out yet, given his bleeding heart for the entire population of Tokyo.

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles as he rubs his eyes harder.

But what if he wasn’t wrong? What if the signals he’s seeing aren’t based on misunderstood yearning?

When his eyes start to burn, his fingers move up to his hair.

There’s no way in hell he’d ever risk losing his best friend. His partner. His Akira. It’s not something he can gamble. It’s not worth it.

He begins to tug, hands shaking, and he can barely feel the sting of pain from nearly pulling his hair out his scalp.

It’s not worth it. He decided that in the very beginning.

Ryuji buries his face into his palms.

But he is so, so exhausted of being tired.

Lightning flashes, and for a split-second, his room is bright.

Fuck it.

By the time thunder rumbles through his apartment, he’s already out the front door.

His sneakers squelch against the wet concrete, soaking his unsocked feet. He’s sprinting fast enough that the street lights around him blur, and he can feel quick breaths getting pulled out of him. It takes him a few seconds to realize that he forgot to wear a raincoat, but he doesn’t care.

Akira is his best friend. Akira accepted him, flaws and all. Akira loves him, one way or another. That’s what held him back. He can’t risk losing that.

Ryuji quickly checks both sides before running across the street, wiping the rain off his brow, and keeps going.

But that’s what should’ve pushed him into confessing sooner. Because if that’s all true, then that can only ever mean that Akira would accept this part of him too, right?

He jerks out of the way as he almost barrels over a fire hydrant, making him step into a deep puddle. It doesn’t slow him down.

Maybe he would’ve realized it sooner if he wasn’t too fucking tired to think straight.

His lungs begin to complain, his breaths turning to wheezes, but he ignores it in favor of going faster.

Too late for that now. All the matters now is to talk to—

He skids to a halt.

In front of him—eyes wide, hair drenched, no shoes—stands Kurusu Akira.

Ryuji’s mouth falls open, and for a minute, he almost laughs. Of course. He should’ve known. Just as he’s willing to sprint to Akira at an unholy hour in the night…

He smiles sheepishly at him, and Ryuji feels his chest constrict in the loveliest way possible.

…Akira would do the exact same thing for him.

The rain slows, and the thunder ceases for a moment. The world pauses long enough for both of them to speak in the same breath, the same heartbeat:

“I’m in love with you.”

#fic tag #akiryu #pegoryu #fanfic #writing #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #mine #desperate as that sounds #and yeah man thats a jon bellion song #fic

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thetriggeredhappy · 4 years

Note

I love?? Sniper's mom?? Familial stuff just kills me in the best way. Could you do something with Spy and Scout from before Spy had left his family 👉👈 ?

im gonna just hope that you’re familiar enough with the Running Blind canon that you have any fuckin idea who the brothers are because they make a pretty steady amount of appearance in this. i call spy by my head canon for his first name (Marcel) since he wouldn’t be called spy until he joined the team, and uhhh one or two other details in this are slightly off-base for the RB canon but like don’t worry about it i don't think it’ll come up

(no warnings)

“Ma chou-fleur,” he greeted, sweeping her in with one arm and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Marcel!” Ma chided, smacking him on the arm with a dish towel, practically jumping out of her skin. “You scared me! When did you get home?!”

“A few minutes ago,” he replied, smirking, sidestepping to give her access to the dishes she was cleaning off. “I see I missed breakfast.”

“Pot’s on the stove,” she said, ticking her head in the direction of said pot, which at a glance seemed to be full of oatmeal. “Oh, could you—?”

He was already on it, moving to lift the baby from the high chair to carry him against his hip. “Mon lapin, look at you, you’re old enough now that you don’t make such a mess,” he joked, picking up a napkin from the table and wiping off the corner of his mouth before moving to set him down by the couch where he had apparently been playing with blocks at some point. He immediately set to trying to climb the couch as best as his little legs could handle.

“Oh, did I tell you?” Ma asked over the sound of running water and an argument happening elsewhere in the apartment. “Jeremy’s walking now!”

“Already?” he asked, looking down at him with surprise. “He was trying last I saw, not making it very far.”

“Tony’s been helping him,” she laughed, washing off and setting aside the last dish and starting to work on the glasses.

“Ma, where’s my backpack?” called Jack, pulling on his jacket by the door and casting around.

“Ask your dad,” she called back, gesturing with her dish towel for emphasis.

“Not my dad,” Jack mumbled, brushing past him to kick around the couch.

“I know,” Marcel said, a little defensive. He glanced around. “Under the table.”

Jack didn’t say thanks, just picking up the backpack and moving out the door.

“Don’t forget your brother!” Ma called before he could shut it.

“Hurry up!” Jack called into the apartment, and Henry darted through the door after him a second later, one shoe only half-on, his hair a mess. Henry hardly had time to call a goodbye to them before the door shut heavily behind them.

Marcel sighed, and Ma gave him a sympathetic glance. The moment was cut short a little bit as another of the boys came into the living room and spotted him.

“Dad, when did you get home—?” Archie started asking, eyes lighting up.

“Je ne parles pas anglais,” Marcel said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Archie frowned, thought hard. “Uh. Quand... es, tu... rentré... à le mansion, papa?” he asked slowly.

“La maison,” he corrected lightly.

“La maison,” Archie repeated back.

“Bien!” he praised, smiling wide. “And only a few minutes ago.” He paused. “Are you going to come hug me or not? Make up your mind.”

Archie darted over to hug him tightly around the middle, and he returned it as best he could with the height difference.

“Why are you home early?” Ma asked, towelling off her hands, the last of the dishes rinsed.

“Business went very smoothly, I was able to book a flight for early this morning rather than late tonight,” he replied, and the glance between the two of them was enough to fill in the rest of the blanks. “The boys are all doing good?”

“Twins caught a cold,” Ma replied, wincing a little.

“Oh no!” he exclaimed, expression falling.

“Means I cancelled the babysitter and called for a day off,” she continued.

“Oh no?” he said next, raising an eyebrow at her and smiling a little.

“Don’t be gross,” Archie mumbled from his midsection.

“There is absolutely nothing gross about my being in love with my wife and enjoying spending time with her and my family,” Marcel said lightly, patting him on the head.

Archie grumbled about that, and he laughed. Ma shook her head and the both of them.

“Ah, but I nearly forgot!” Marcel said, and glanced off. “Collin!”

A pause. “What?” Collin called back hesitantly from the boys’ collective room.

“Get out here,” he called next, rolling his eyes a little.

A very considerable pause before Collin peeked out the door and looked at him. “Yeah?” he asked, expression already guilty. Archie pointedly went to go pay attention to the baby, helping him stack some blocks.

“Mon poulet, you would not happen to know what happened to my cufflinks, would you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Collin didn’t maintain eye contact. “...No,” he tried.

“Oh. Well, perhaps you can go look for them wherever it was that you happened to “find” them last time they went missing,” he asked even more pointedly. “Maybe they ended up there again somehow.”

Collin nodded and disappeared again quickly.

“You know he keeps taking them because he misses you,” Ma said, voice hushed.

“Ma petite chou-chou, he keeps taking the one thing I only have one set of,” he replied. “If he stole ties like you do, it would be less of a problem.”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” she said flatly, and that got him to smile at least.

The sound of blocks falling. “Uh,” Archie said. “Oops.”

A pause of a second or two before Jeremy started crying.

Marcel was there in a moment, scooping him up to hold him. “Oh no!” he exclaimed, just as dramatic, tone full of just as much dismay as the crying baby, pressing comforting kisses to the side of his head. “Catastrophe! Calatime! Mon dieu, how could this happen?!”

Jeremy seemed distressed, holding his hand up close to his face protectively. There was a tiny knick where a block had fallen on the back of his tiny hand.

“Crushed by debris, horrible injury,” Marcel tutted, and pressed a few kisses to the injury in question. “Mon lapin, we have no choice but to amputate. Hopefully you will do well being left-handed.”

Jeremy seemed to be calming down quickly as he both realized that maybe he was actually okay and also that his dad agreed that the situation seemed kind of scary for a minute.

“Unless it seems alright? Perhaps you were really okay?” he asked pointedly, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe the world is not ending? The arm can be saved?”

Jeremy started to suck on his thumb, reached with his other hand to grab hold of his jacket.

“Ah, you’re just an actor,” Marcel teased, beeped his nose, shook his head when he giggled in response.

“Archie, sweetheart, could you help me out and dry the dishes while I check on your brothers?” Ma asked, two wet towels in hand as she moved towards the boys’ room.

“Okay,” Archie agreed, and Marcel continued to hold the baby for a few seconds before deciding to go say hello to the rest of the boys, putting him back down to play with his blocks.

The baby was not having any of it, making little noises of distress and not letting go of his jacket. “Mon lapin, yes, I love you too, but I do not want to take you in to see your brothers and get sick,” he chided. “You should stay out here.”

The baby made further distressed noises.

“How about I bring your brother to see you, he can teach you to walk some more, oui?” he tried. “Would you like to play with Tony?”

He seemed to be thinking very hard about that concept, but did not let go of his jacket.

“Okay,” he sighed, straightening up, still holding the baby. “Okay. We can both go. You’ve convinced me.”

“Losing an argument with a baby, I see,” Archie deadpanned from the sink.

“I want you to know that the amount of cheesy and romantic I can be with your mother is a sliding scale that only goes up,” Marcel drawled.

“Nevermind,” Archie said.

“That’s what I thought.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #dad!spy #my fanfiction #shut up me #everybody talks #it would be really sad if spy was just some dude who none of the brothers even knewor liked that well. yknow what would be even more sad?#if he was an important part of their family that the vast majority of the brothers legitimately loved and valued and cared about #wouldn't that be fucked up #rb #running blind

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fatandnerdy30 · 4 years

Text

Land of the Avengers chapter 1

So, I said I would be posting to tumblr more often, so I figured that I should start with my reconfigured LotA story...so, here we go!

The beeping of an alarm is the first thing he heard the morning of the week that would change his life forever. Peter yawned as he hit dismiss on his app flashing on his phone’s screen, rolling over again.

“Peter! Come on, time for school!” May’s voice called down the hall, her footsteps pounding through the dorm apartment. “Your breakfast is going to get cold!”

That got the boy moving and five minutes later, as he was making his way toward the kitchen, the melody to wake up the entire academy started playing over the loudspeaker. Peter always woke a little early because he hated being startled awake by the annoying good morning song. He slid into his chair and smiled as May gave him a kiss on top of his head, ruffling his curls. “I’ll be home early today, so you won’t have to cook.”

At that the boy made a face. “Why don’t we just eat in the cafeteria? At least they’re a little edible.”

“Hey!” she said in shock, though amusement could be heard in the tone. “I’ll let you know the headmaster enjoyed my walnut date loaf very much, thank you!”

“He only took it because he wasn’t trying to be rude. Come on, May, your reputation for being a bad cook is pretty infamous in the halls of the school.” He picked up the fried-cake on his plate which was like a plate and stiff as a board for an example.

“All right, I’ll admit I don’t cook that well, but it’s not as bad as all that.” She poked at the stiff fried-cake before she left the room. “And make sure to finish what’s on your plate. Both of them!”

Peter laughed at the joke and just hid the cake in a napkin before throwing it out and racing back to his room. With his door closed, he put a CD into his stereo and started getting ready for the day. Brushing his teeth, he bopped his head back and forth to the beat, his curls bouncing along, which he then fixed. He then quickly put his uniform on and grabbed his homework, the papers filled with elaborate equations and safety protocols that he had to memorize. But, it excited him, because he was closer to becoming an apprentice flight engineer, which was even closer to becoming a pilot! “See you later, May!”

“Bye honey!”

The boy shut the door and practically ran to the school building, throwing open the doors. “Peter!” His best friend’s voice made Peter turn around and a big smile lit up his face.

“Harley, what’s up man?” They grabbed each other’s arms, then slid their hands down then to ‘explode’, making the sounds as their hands separated.

“Nothing much, just wondering why you’re always the first in the halls.” The dark haired boy smirked at him as he slammed Peter’s shoulder playfully.

“I may be first, but you’re always right behind me. Looking to get on Captain Potts’ good side? Because you loooove her?” Peter cackled when Harley’s face went red.

“I do not. I just want to impress her because I think I’m failing.” Harley sighed. “I got a ninety-eight on my last equipment test.” His head hung down as he pouted.

“Oh, ninety-eight…that’s harsh,” Peter joked, stumbling when the other boy pushed him and laughed. “Don’t sweat it, man! You’re one of the smartest kids in the academy, and anyone would be grateful to have you on board.”

“Oh, I know,” Harley joked, puffing his own chest out, but the other boy elbowed him in the chest, making him choke. “Dude! Not cool!” He rubbed his chest, but Peter was laughing too hard to respond.

“What’s so funny Penis?” An annoying voice sobered up both boys and the older of the two stiffened. “Finally get to look in a mirror?” An oily haired student slid in between the two. He wasn’t smarter than Peter, but since the boy’s first day, the bully had been on Peter’s case. Harley said it was because he was jealous, but Peter had no clue why. Flash had everything. He had good grades, two parents, was popular, and rich, everything that Peter had wanted. But, he couldn’t help but feel bad for the bully.

Harley moved, making Peter snap out of his thoughts. The older boy was smirking. “No, we finally got to see you without your makeup, and boy was that hysterical!”

Flash’s face turned red and he balled his fists at his sides, bringing one up. “You’re dead, Keener!” He was about to bring his fist up to Harley’s face, when a hand grabbed him from behind.

“What was that, Mr. Thompson?”

Mr. Barton scowled down at the boy, blue eyes churning like the ocean during a storm. “Did you threaten a fellow student with bodily harm and a death threat?” The man’s chiseled jaw was ticking in his annoyance under his five O'clock shadow.

“N-no!” the bully squeaked, his coffee skin turning a sickly green, brown color. "I-I-I-I-“ He stared at the muscled arm beyond the hand that was holding him half off the ground.

"You were what?” Mr. Barton finally released the boy, watching him stumble back into the lockers. “Get outta here, you little punk. You have detention. With me. After school. Now go.” When the boy stood frozen, the teacher growled. “That’s an order, Cadet Thompson!” Flash jumped and practically ran from the man, not even looking back. “You two okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Barton, sir!” Peter replied, both cadets standing at attention. “Thank you for your assistance.”

The man smirked and clapped both boy’s on the shoulder. “At ease, boys. You’re gonna be late for class. Go ahead.”

The boys smiled and almost ran down the hall to Ms. Potts’ class not noticing Mr. Barton watching them. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re late.” Captain Potts stated to the two boys who ran into the classroom, both panting. The woman’s strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a serious bun, highlighting her classic bone structure. Her blue eyes showed her annoyance at being interrupted.

“Sorry Captain!” Peter said in between breaths. “We were detained.”

“Hmm…see that it doesn’t happen again. Now, to your seats. We’re discussing sub-orbital flight and the long term effects on the body.” She waited for the boys to get to their seats, and started. Pepper checked on her students often during her lesson, noting that more than a few looked bored. But, the two students she knew who were paying attention were staring right at the board, pens scribbling like mad as they took notes on every word the Captain said.

“Who can tell me how far up you need to reach sub-orbital flight and feel weightless?” She waited, staring at the company. “Anyone?” Two hands shot into the air and she had to hide a smile. “Harley.”

“One hundred kilometers, Captain, or sixty-two miles above sea level.”

“Very good, Cadet Keiner. Now, extra question, what is that altitude called?” Peter’s hand shot into the air a second before Harley could answer, and this time she couldn’t help but chuckle. “Peter.” “The Karman Line, named after Theodore von Karman, who formulated the idea that at this height was too thin for regular flight. It’s also called the edge of space.”

“Very good, Cadet Parker. I can see someone has paid attention in the past,” Pepper sent a glare to the other cadets, who sat straight at that look. “All of you have a bright future, but you’re not showing that you have the drive to become Pilots for the Reed center….” She sighed. “And because of this, I am telling you that tomorrow there will be a pop quiz on all of this. I’m being nice and letting you know beforehand this way you can come prepared.

"Now, there are twelve long term effects on the body and they are as follows: after about a dozen flights, the pilot’s spine itself stretches, but it doesn’t cause too much pain. It corrects itself in a few months of being on the ground and the pilot can start flying again.

“The second is on too many extra long flights, the muscles of the pilot loses some of their muscle mass. This is why we insist on the pilots being in fit shape in order to stay on, especially those who take long flights that last more than six hours. Please turn to page thirty-two of your books and read the following pages and take notes, until you reach the third effect.”

Silence followed for a long while, everyone focused and taking the appropriate notes until the last page was turned and the students turned their attention to Captain Potts. “Everyone ready to move on? Good. Now, the third effect would be-"The bell rang and the students started packing their bags. She saluted the cadets, who stood altogether and saluted her back. "You’re dismissed.” She watched the kids rush out of the classroom to their next class. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day went by fast, and before he knew it, Peter was in line for lunch, his foot tapping with excess energy from sitting so long listening to teachers drone on and on. He was young and needed to move. After his muscles were tired from hopping in place, he leaned against the window, the smog so thick that the city was barely visible from the sky deck the school was built on. Pollution and factory smog had been getting worse and worse with each passing year until people had to start building homes on top of towers to give them clean air to breathe. But, it happened that only the rich could afford to be in those towers.

Peter remembered living in the smog filled city below and it left some bad health problems like asthma, which was getting better now that he lived in the dorms of the school. If he hadn’t gotten the scholarship, he would still be below that thick cloud, struggling to breathe, or dead.

He noticed the line moving and stepped forward, when someone rammed into his shoulder, causing the boy to cry out and hold the limb. “Oops.” Flash’s annoying voice filled the boy’s ears and he rolled his eyes.

“Just leave me alone, Flash.” Peter was getting tired of the bully’s crap. He rolled his shoulder and winced when it was tender.

“Why should I when you obviously have no one around to protect you. No friends,” the bully looked around. “No teachers.” He then pressed Peter closer to the window, the other students backing away. “And I still owe you for what your boyfriend said to me this morning.” Flash’s eyes hardened. He looked up slightly into Peter’s face. Then, without hesitation, he slammed a fist into Peter’s stomach, causing said boy to double over and gasp for air. “That was just a love tap. You or your boyfriend say anything like that to me again, it’ll be worse.” He turned and walked away, laughing with a few of the other kids pointing at the boy holding his stomach.

Peter lost his appetite after that, so he got off the line and went to the library, grabbing his books out of his locker on the way. The least he could do was get some of the assignments Captain Potts gave them. And wait to see if a bruise formed on his sore ribs, which the way he felt, he was sure about that.

Lost in the pages of a book, Peter barely heard the bell ring. A clearing of a throat made the boy look up, the librarian gesturing to a clock with a smirk. Peter gasped and started packing his books wildly when he heard the chimes for an announcement coming over the loudspeaker.

“Cadets Parker and Keener, to Colonel Richards’ office. Cadets Parker and Keener, to Colonel Richards’ office.” The near robotic voice of the colonel’s secretary rang through the halls. Peter froze as the few students in the library stared at him.

The first thought that came to mind was what did they do wrong? Then it was, did Flash say they started the fight? Or, his overactive brain thought, maybe they did something terribly bad, and they were going to be expelled? Peter shook his head. No, that couldn’t be. It was on video that Flash had hit him.

With a gulp, he stood up and crammed what books and papers he had left, into his backpack, not caring about the state they were in before practically running out of the library. The entire way to the headmaster’s office, the bad thoughts kept running through Peter’s mind, making his heart beat faster and the dread rise farther.

Harley was waiting outside the headmaster’s office. He looked as nervous as Peter did. “What do you think we did?” Peter asked panting, his eyes wide.

“I have no clue, but it can’t be good if we’re being summoned to this office.” The door swung open and Mr. Barton stuck his head out, his eyes softening at the look the two gave him.

“Hey, what’s with the scared looks?”

Harley gulped so loud, even Peter heard it. “We’re ready to accept our punishment for whatever we did, sir,” he said lowly and Peter just looked at the ground. What they weren’t expecting was the laugh coming from Mr. Barton. It started out as a chuckle, and then he was actually holding his middle. “Punishment?” the man cackled. “What made you think you were being punished?”

“W-well,” Peter started, wringing his hands. “No one is called to the Colonel’s office, except for punishment…and the fight Flash caused this morning…” He wasn’t going to mention the fight-if you could call it that- which the headmaster probably had seen on the security cams.

“Don’t even mention that little creep’s name to me. I still have plans for him in detention. But, don’t worry, you were called here for something good. Promise.” He stepped aside and ushered the cadets inside. Instantly they stood straight at attention, saluting the dark haired man sitting behind the desk, Mr. Barton following.

“The cadets you wanted, Sir.”

“Ahh, thank you, Clint. At ease.” Colonel Richards sat back, his elbows on his desk. “Peter and Harley, correct?” He couldn’t miss the way the two seemed to tremble in his presence.

“Y-yes sir,” Harley nodded.

“Good. I’ve been looking into your grades and I must say I am very impressed. Normally, when we do have scholarship students, they slack off once they’re in the school.” It didn’t happen very often, and Peter and Harley both had stunning grades to go with their scholarships. “But, not you two. And that impressed me.” He smiled at the look the boys gave him.

“It impressed me so much, that I’ve decided to let you two take the flight simulation for real. The only placement I could get for the both of you though, was next week.” The room became silent from the news, both boys staring at him slack jawed.

“I don’t expect you to be flying alone, though. Mr. Barton and Captain Potts have both agreed to be with you on the flight. You both are allowed to take one extra person of your choosing to take with you. It will be a week long excursion. Consider it a reward for your hard work this year.”

The boys smile’s grew brighter and they looked at one another excitedly. “It’s an honor, Colonel, Sir!” Peter said, his voice cracking in his excitement, making him turn red.

“Yes, this is a great honor, Sir.” Harley said, his face so serious, it made Reed chuckle.

“Calm down, Cadet Keiner. But, I will warn you,” his face turned serious, “that this is also a test proving the two of you will be capable pilots and your futures are riding on this.”

Peter and Harley both trembled at that, but saluted the man with a loud 'Yes Sir!’

“Study hard, and try and get as much Simulation time as you need. In fact, I’ll open the Baxter building to the both of you, this way you’ll have state of the art simulators to work with.”

To say the boys were shocked was an understatement. The Baxter building? “I-it’s truly an honor, Sir!” Peter said, his face beaming.

“I’ll have your passes ready for you by tomorrow. You’re dismissed.” Both boys slammed their heels together and saluted before exiting the room.

“We get to go to the top floor of the Baxter Building!” Peter cried as soon as they were out of the Colonel’s office. His young eyes were sparkling with wonder and excitement. “I’ve always wanted to see what they do up there! I’ve heard that they’ve been working on actual space flight! How crazy is that? We might get to go to the moon someday, maybe farther! We may even discover a new planet! How cool would that be!”

Harley listened with a soft smile. His younger friend always got this way when talking about the science of space flight and or chemistry. "It would be so cool. You gonna be the first to step on the moon?“ he ruffled Peter’s hair, cackling.

"I just might!” Peter said indignantly.

“I’m sure you will, bud. Come on, we’ll be late for Harrington’s class, and you know him and his stories if you’re late.” Harley slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders and tugged him towards the classrooms.

#Marvelfanfic #Avengers #iron dad #Iron Man Tony Stark #virginia potts #peter parker #harley keener #clintbarton #professor hulk #steverogers #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #bucky barnes #g/t fluff #found family

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drbtinglecannon · 6 years

Note

Please don't stop making beautiful Huwumi content, you are blessings to the little Huwumi fandom! Also can I request a number 24. "It's six o'clock in the morning,you're not having vodka." Like in my head it was hilarious Huwumi scenario and of course it's your choice if you want to do it or no. 🙂 Have a nice day/night!

Ok so this is insanely sweet of you and I was actually really down about something in my personal life right around when you sent this and it helped cheer me up haha. I’m sorry it took so long to reply but I finished the request! I had a bit of trouble thinking up something not super angsty for this tbh until I decided on fluffy and comforting, so I hope you like it!

It’s a little over 1k cause I don’t understand the meaning of ‘drabble’ and I apologize. Also posted on Ao3.

—

Miruko walks outside the venue and lets out a sigh. Partially out of relief because she’s been looking for Hawks for the last twenty minutes, partially out of annoyance because she’s been looking for him the last twenty minutes at 6am.

A strong burning scent lingers by where he’s seated, curious Miruko whiffs the air and frowns. The rabbit hero marches over and stands in front of him with her hands on her hips. “It’s six o'clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.“

“I added orange juice to it…” Hawks mumbles.

Miruko shakes her head before gingerly prying the glass from him and placing it on the nearest table. “I’ve looked all over this damn place for you. What are you doing out here drinking alone in the ass early hours of the day?”

Hawks sulks a little and slumps further in his seat. “I needed to take the edge off, I was hoping a drink would help but it didn’t. So I was thinking of going for a small flight next.”

“Why? Dude, you should be stoked, you’re getting married today!” Miruko’s volume increases with each word. Hawks keeps his eyes on the ground with a small frown, making Miruko deflate a little realizing it won’t be so easy to cheer him up. “Hey, are you ok?” She rests her hands on his shoulders and gives a light squeeze.

Hawks murmurs though Miruko’s heightened hearing picks up his words anyway. “What if I mess this all up?“

She reels back with a loud pfft. “Seriously?! Parrots, if you were gonna mess up your chances with Fuyumi you would’ve years ago!” He still doesn’t look up, so Miruko sits next to him and takes on a gentler tone. “You guys have been through a lot, always supporting each other and your very different careers. Honestly I think of you two as relationship goals.”

Hawks snorts amusedly at that admission but continues staring a hole into the ground. “I don’t know why I’m so worried, I’ve been walking on air ever since she said ‘yes’ but I just…woke up this morning panicking and…”

He heaves a loud sigh as he throws his head back. “I wanna talk to Fuyumi about this, see if she’s also feeling this way or if it’s just me…but I can’t.”

Miruko mulls his complaint over for only a couple seconds before jumping to her feet and hauling him up with her. “Well screw tradition, you need to see your fiancé so let’s go to her room.”

“Miruko, we don’t even know if she’s awake!” Hawks whines, his crimson wings fluttering restlessly as he’s pulled along.

“Then we wake her up, simple.“

Miruko continues dragging Hawks by the wrist through the venue towards the hotel rooms, treading quietly as they approach Fuyumi’s room. “It’s stupid you two aren’t allowed to see each other, I thought the superstition was just when she was in her dress?” The rabbit hero whispers to her friend.

She feels him shrug. "I don’t know, her family is super traditional. Which is why we shouldn’t be here!” He whispers back but doesn’t try to pull out of her grasp.

“Too late.” Miruko knocks as softly as her patience can allow.

The door opens in a flash to reveal Fuyumi in her PJs with her hair in a messy ponytail, looking just as jittery as her soon-to-be husband. “Ah, g-good morning, Miruko. Oh!“

Hawks has his free hand over his eyes and his head hung, every feather of his vibrant wings is taut and rigid behind him. “Hi, ‘Yumi…s-sorry to bother you.”

Fuyumi glances between the two heroes before dashing across the small distance between them and throwing her arms around Hawks. “I missed you…I don’t sleep very well without you around, you know.“

Miruko releases Hawks’ wrist so he can hug Fuyumi back. His wings slowly relax in time with him exhaling deeply. “I missed you too. Sorry, um, I’m really nervous and Miruko dragged me up here to see you, even though I told her we shouldn’t cause it’s so early and that tradition or whatever and—”

Fuyumi shushes him gently before the winged hero can work himself up in another frenzy. “I’m glad you came by, I’m a little anxious about today too.”

”…weddings are more stressful than we originally thought, huh?”

Fuyumi chuckles under her breath and hugs Hawks closer. “I suppose so. However we’ll get through it together, like we always do.” She then glances over at Miruko who’s still standing nearby awkwardly, and gives her a grateful smile. “We also have good friends to help.“

Miruko beams at the happy couple. "Exactly! Now come on, today’s exciting, let’s get you two PUMPED!”

The rabbit hero exclaims a little too loudly because shortly after there’s a chorus of murmured noises varying in levels of irritation coming from each room down the hall.

The stars of the day both give her flat looks as Miruko’s ears lower and she grins sheepishly. “Oops?“

“I wish I still had my drink…” Hawks mutters as a particularly angry sound echoes down the hall.

Fuyumi fixes him with an incredulous look. “You were drinking at six am?” Another loud boom from a different room interrupts her. “…actually, I could also go for a drink.“

"My treat? We can raid the mini bar in my room until everyone falls back asleep?” Miruko whispers this time.

Hawks huffs a quiet laugh. “Think we can get trashed and sober up in time for the ceremony?” Fuyumi swats his shoulder lightly with an affectionate eyeroll.

Frantic clambering sounds out as a door is swung open and Natsuo barrels into the hall in his pj pants and his button up half on. “What time is it?! Did we sleep too late??”

Shouto slugs to the doorway behind him and yawns. “Natsuo…it’s only 6:17am. We didn’t miss the wedding.”

Natsuo blinks owlishly at his little brother, then peers down the hall at his sister, soon-to-be brother-in-law, and the rabbit hero. “Go back to bed, pal.” Hawks pipes up.

The two youngest Todoroki children shuffle back into their room and no other guests enter the hall, probably all having immediately gone back to sleep after checking the time.

Miruko still has her ears down in embarrassment, however Hawks and Fuyumi look far less anxious and more amused now. “Well, I don’t feel horribly nervous anymore. Thanks Miruko.” Hawks chuckles.

“Hm, me neither. I’m really excited to get this all over with and finally be married.” The two share a chaste kiss.

"So, how about that mini bar?”

“We’re not actually getting drunk before the ceremony, Tsubasa.”

Miruko ushers the couple to her room as they playfully bicker, relief settling in her bones seeing them finally relax a little.

#huwumi #Fuyumi x Hawks #hawks and miruko are the best duo #stivcondapro #rating: g #Hawks is named Tsubasa until Horikoshi tells me otherwise

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buriednurbckyrd · 6 years

Text

Operation: Seduce Tony Stark

Part 1 of my dominant!reader series, also available on AO3

He had been preoccupied with work for weeks. Only coming to bed long after she had gone to bed, and up before she awoke. Any advances came from her and were gently denied or ignored. She was fed up and ready to up the stakes. That morning she chose her clothing very carefully, down to the undergarments she had recently purchased with him in mind. She pinned her hair up in her usual modest style and dabbed perfume on her pulse points. Today was the day. Operation Seduce Tony Stark: Engaged.

She knocked on the door to his office and received a tired sounding hum of acknowledgment. She stepped inside with a to go cup filled with his favorite coffee and he smiled.

“Thanks, Y/N, I'm running on empty.”

“I brought you a bagel sandwich too, and you better eat it.”

“What would I do without you?” She went to his side to set his breakfast down on his desk, subtly angling her body so he would get a nice glimpse of her cleavage. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and he caught her scent; not too sweet, a little smokey, and very her.

“What's on your schedule today, darling?” She asked and perched on the corner of his desk, already knowing the answer. He swallowed a bite of his sandwich.

“Video conference call with Rogers in ten, and that should be the end of the office shit for the day. I've been working on some improvements on one of the suits,” he scrubbed his hands over his face. “So probably put a few hours in the shop.” More like the rest of the day, she thought. For a moment she considered letting him go on with his day as planned, work out whatever was going on in his own way, then she noticed the tension in his shoulders. The way his hand tapped anxiously on his leg. He was wound tight, and she was going to get him to relax. The video call popped up on his screen to show that Steve was calling in. It was now or never. She bumped the can holding his extra pens and it fell to the floor.

“Oops! I'll get it!” She got down on her hands and knees to gather up the writing utensils and he answered the call.

“Yo, Cap. How's it going?” He greeted and leaned back in his chair, all of his attention on the screen. She smirked and crawled under his desk. She could hear Steve going on about something to do with the latest mission. They were going to be coming back with several drives full of information that would need to be combed over. Tony was nodding along and jotting down a few notes when he felt her hands on his thighs. He looked down at her mischievous grin and frowned.

“Tony?” He flicked his eyes back to Steve and cleared his throat.

“Yep, sorry, I'm here.” He tried to keep his face neutral when Y/N began to undo his jeans. “So you're heading back soon, then?” She slid her hand inside his boxers and he coughed to cover the hiss of pleasure.

“Yes, we should be starting the flight home within the hour.” The Captain narrowed his eyes at the other man. “Tony? Are you feeling okay? You look flushed.” He glanced back down at Y/N. The little minx had her lips wrapped around his cock getting him harder by the second.

“J-just a little warm in here,” he lied. “Is there anything else you needed?” Steve started to shake his head.

“No- oh wait. It looks like Natasha wants a moment.” Tony ground his teeth together, trying to hold back a moan. She gripped his shaft in one hand, thumb rubbing over the head while she pressed kisses and kitten licks to his balls.

“Hey, Tony,” Natasha's voice rang out. “I just wanted to give you the heads up, I took a quick look at some of the information and we're going to need Y/N.” He kept his eyes on the red head on his computer.

“Encrypted?” He bit out.

“Encryption on top of encryption, it's a major headache. She mentioned the other day when I called that she hadn't seen you a lot lately, so could you make sure you let her know?”

“Yep. If I see her.”

“Thanks, Tony. See you… Tomorrow probably.”

“Safe flight.” He snapped the laptop closed. “FUCK!” He yelled and shoved back from the desk. Y/N laughed and stood up.

“I seem to have your attention now.” Tony's chest heaved. “Still want to go spend the day in your work shop?” She asked innocently as she straddled his lap. He surged forward to kiss her and she pressed her index finger against his lips. “Uh-uh, mister. You play by my rules today.”

“Y/N.” He groaned. She slid off his legs and started undoing the buttons of her blouse. He caught sight of crimson lace. She backed her way towards the door and crooked her finger in his direction.

“Come on, Mr. Stark.” He threw himself out of the chair to follow her, trying to redo his pants to they didn't end up around his ankles. Every time he'd get his hands around her she'd slip away and tut. “You keep misbehaving like that and I'll have to punish you.” She purred. Her words fueled the fire building under his skin. At the door to their bedroom she fisted his shirt and shoved him against the wood. She fingered the hem of his Henley. “Off.” She ordered. He pulled it over his head. “Mmm… I've missed this.” She peppered his shoulders with kisses and pushed the door open. Sucking a bruise over his collar bone she inched him towards their bed. When the back of his knees hit the bed she playfully shoved him back onto the mattress.

“What's gotten into you today?” He panted. She undid the rest of the buttons and shrugged out of her shirt.

“Hopefully you.” She replied and started to push her jeans down her legs. Tony just stared at her. Y/N's skin was perfection, her breasts displayed in deep red lace. His eyes trailed down to matching lace at her hips. She smiled coyly and turned around to show off how the panties hugged her ass. “Like what you see, Mr. Stark? I picked these out just for you.”

“Christ,” He swallowed hard. “You're killing me, Y/N” She pulled the pins out of her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. Tony felt like she had walked out of one of his wet dreams. He licked his lips and curled his fingers into the sheets, itching to touch every inch of her.

“It's been weeks since, Tony.” She murmured and crawled up his body. She caught his earlobe between her teeth. “I go to bed alone, every night.” She licked the shell of his ear, felt him shiver. “You're mine today.”

“I'm sorry, Y/N. There's just been so much piling up...” He lost his train of thought when she swirled her tongue over one of his nipples. “Shit, I forgot how good that feels.” He yelped when she bit down. The sharp pain mixed with the pleasure and shot right to his groin. “Ohh...” She rolled her hips against his arousal and he saw stars for a brief moment.

“You're so hard for me, Tony.” She cupped him through his jeans. “Maybe you missed me too?”

“I'm having a hell of a time trying to remember why we haven't done this in so long.” He huffed a laugh that quickly turned into a grunt when she tugged his pants off. He hissed when the cool air hit his throbbing cock. She pressed against his erection, giving him the friction he desperately craved. The soft lace dampened as she rubbed herself on his length.

“Oh, yes.” She sighed. Without thinking his arms went around her. Instantly she pulled away.

“Ugh!” His head fell back in frustration.

“You don't get to touch yet.”

“Y/N...” He whined.

“Would you feel better if you got to see a little more?” She reached back and unhooked her bra. “Or will that just make it more difficult?” She let the garment fall away. He had visions of his head buried between those breasts, having his mouth all over the soft skin. Y/N approached the bed again, and settled between his thighs. She pressed open mouthed kisses down his chest and abdomen and his knuckles went white from the effort it took to keep his hands off of her. When she took him into her mouth he arched off the bed with a shout.

“Goddamn, I love your mouth!” She hummed around him, the vibrations made his entire body tingle. He was so turned on it didn't take him long before she had him on the edge. “Oh, fuck, yes! Y/N!” He could practically taste his climax, but she pulled off of him with a wet pop. “Why'd you stop?” He cried, not at all concerned with how desperate he sounded. She lightly scratched her nails down his thighs and grinned.

“I'm not done playing with you yet.” She reached over and opened the night stand on her side of the bed. “I've been stuck all by myself,” Y/N pouted and held up a small bullet vibrator. “I thought maybe you'd like to see what I've been making due with.” She clicked it on and Tony heard a quiet buzzing. She teased one of her nipples with it and he practically drooled at the sight. He jumped a little when she ran it down his chest. “Feels good, hmm? But it's not much of a substitute for this.” She squeezed his cock.

“Please...” Tony was completely wrecked underneath her. His chest was flushed, his pupils blown wide with lust, and he dripped precum. She trailed the toy down his shaft and over his sensitive balls. With every sound she wrung out of him Y/N lost a little bit of her control. All she wanted was to get him inside of her but she was determined to push him just a little more.

“Please what, Tony?” She clicked her toy off and tossed it aside. She hooked her thumbs under her panties and pulled them down a fraction. “Was there something you wanted?” Tony groaned and thrust his hips up in an unconscious motion. “You're gonna have to ask nicely.”

“Please, Y/N, I need you… I'm begging you, please just let me come.” There it is, she thought with a satisfied smile.

“Shh, I got you baby.” Y/N peeled the last scrap of lace off of her body and lined herself up with Tony's cock. She guided him into her entrance and moaned low in her throat when she finally sunk down on his length. Tony nearly sobbed with relief. “Touch me, Tony...” She breathed and he cupped her breasts in his hands. His feel of calloused hands sent shivers down her spine and she rolled her hips. Tony's eyes rolled back into his head.

“Fuuuck, babe...” He couldn't take his eyes off of her. Her head thrown back in ecstasy, riding him for all she was worth. He pushed himself up and wrapped his arms around her, searching for her lips. Their mouths met in a frantic kiss, all tongues and teeth. She swallowed every moan, moving her hips gradually faster, chasing her pleasure. Y/N dug her nails into his back, panting against his mouth. He was so close, a familiar pressure started to build in his groin. He slipped his hand between their bodies. When she gasped and trembled he knew he had found that little bundle of nerves.

“I'm gonna-” She cried out and he felt her velvet walls squeeze around him as she reached her peak. He followed her with a shout. Tony collapsed back and Y/N sprawled over his chest, gasping for breath.

“Jesus, fuck...” He panted. “You're going to be the death of me.” She laughed weakly.

“But what a way to go.” Tony pressed a kiss to the top of her head, content to hold her in his arms while they both came down.

“I'm almost scared to find out what else you have planned for the day.” Y/N propped herself up and smiled lazily.

“I was thinking we could share a nice steamy shower,” She pecked a quick kiss to his lips. “Take a long nap,” She rubbed her thumb over his cheek. “Call for some takeout, put on a bad movie, and pretend we never have to leave this bed.”

“God, you're perfect. What did I do to deserve you?” Tony wondered aloud.

“Is that a plan then, Mr. Stark?” Tony captured her lips in another kiss.

“Hell yes.”

#marvel smut #tony stark x reader #tony stark smut #dominant!reader #avengers smut

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jstar97 · 7 years

Text

Writing Prompt: You’d never believe me

So I got the writing prompt “You’d never believe me,” from @somethingmoreclever (thanks btw and hope you like it) and this story came out of it but I’ve been kind of chicken to post it. So, here it is. And if you have a *cough* helpful *cough* or *cough* constructive *cough cough* critique or want to say something positive, then please go ahead. Also, anyone who has sent me a prompt, I’m working on it and thanks :)

________________________________________________________________

I'm passed out on my bed, sleeping on top of papers, books, and pens when I feel something large and soft slap me in the face. A pillow. My roommate, more dreaming than awake, mutters, "Eggs."

I whine, "Why me?"

"Because my paper's due at 12 P.M. and you're free today."

Figures. As I push myself out of bed, crumpling color-coded notes and over-priced textbooks in the process, I grumble, "Never telling you my schedule again."

I grab my wallet, walk out the door and down eight flights of stairs, past the front desk to the bus stop. The driver today is Lena. All smiles, she asks, "Trouble getting up, Sunshine?"

"Huh? How'd you guess?"

"First of all, you don't usually take the bus on Fridays and second…well, you didn't look at yourself this morning, did ya?"

She hands me her compact and points to the chair behind hers. It's only then I realize why I got so many funny looks at the stop. My hair is in knots and tangles and there's a white strip of dried drool running down the corner of my mouth. Plus, I was still wearing my Pikachu onesie and matching slippers. You know, the ones that go "Pika, pika," if you stomp your feet. After handing back the mirror, I check my breath. Crap, forgot to brush my teeth. It was a mistake to eat everything-on-it pizza with extra garlic sauce last night. Pulling the hoodie up, I slouch and cross my arms.

Finally, my stop. I race out of the bus, jumping through the sliding doors and over wet floor signs until I'm at the back of the grocery store. "Ha," I groggily laugh, "Eggs in the Dairy Section."

There's cheese, butter, margarine. But no eggs. Not even those expensive free-range ones.

A stock clerk is shelving out butter where the eggs should be. "Um, excuse me -" He turns and smirks. "Dude, Comic Con was last week."

"Haha, you're hilarious."

"Ooh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Whatcha do, get stuffed in a Pokeball?"

"Look, you wanna help or should I call the manager? I need eggs, man, so I can hibernate till Monday."

"We don't have any."

"Really? A grocery store that doesn't have one carton of eggs at 9 A.M.? Not even in the back?"

"Nope."

"I'm just gonna check with the manager -"

"No!" He yells abruptly. "I mean, did you say eggs? I thought you said pegs -"

"Because it makes perfect sense that I ask for pegs while standing in the Dairy Section -"

"Come with me." We walk to the "Employees Only" door.

"Um, I'm not supposed go in there."

"I'll let them know you're with me." I want to go back to bed as soon as possible so I go in.

We went in. It was pitch black. "Hey, where's the - ?"

Next thing you know, I'm pushed into a giant cell and fall on something soft. Someone turns on a light switch. It looks like most of the employees are here.

"Hey, how'd you get into this?" Sam, who's usually at the cash register, asks. From the coffee in his hand, I could tell that he must have got caught up in this when he came here for his break.

"Eggs."

I look down and realize that the soft something was actually a very annoyed someone. Nina, to be exact. We're both in Linear Algebra.

"Do you mind getting off of me?"

"Oops, sorry."

After we get up, she asks, "You've been coming here for two years and it didn't occur to you once that he's new?"

By 'he', she means the jerk who brought me here. He looks the same, mostly. I mean he's still wearing the uniform and that sarcastic smile.

But his skin is now purple and his eyes are blood-red.

"Huh, that's new. Am I on one of those hidden camera shows?" My fellow prisoners shake their heads. "Back to your question, Nina, am I supposed to memorize everyone's name? By the way, hi Bob, Larry, Leia, John, Sharon, Aaron and Phoebe. Oh, and Phil's in the back? Hi Phil! We're still on for chess next Tuesday, right?"

"Yup. Nice onesie by the way!"

Nina raises her eyebrows. "Okay, fine, I know everyone's names. Sue me. But how was I supposed to know you guys didn't hire someone new?"

I turn back to our captor. "Hey, Purple-Face - nope, that would be rude. Do you have a name? I mean, I was kinda crabby earlier and I'm really trying to -"

"For Pete's sake, he locked us in a cell!"

"I am Autoraun 319, an android from the planet you Earthlings call '55 Cancri e'. My model is the most advanced of its kind. I can change appearance, am virtually indestructible, can display over 4250 different emotions, and can process information at lightning speed, allowing me to assimilate with the surrounding population. I also can fly and have an arsenal of weaponry at my disposal. Since I am so powerful, only one of me was need for my important mission."

"And that is?"

"Collecting a rare but powerful nutrition source for the people of my planet -"

"Human brains?!?" Sam panics, dropping some of his coffee on my slippers.

Autoraun rolls his - its - eyes. "Human brains are neither rare nor nutritious. I'm talking about chicken eggs."

We all burst out laughing.

"I'm telling ya, this has gotta be a hidden camera show!"

"I've never heard of anything stupider in my life!"

"What's next? You'll want to steal our milk and cookies too?"

After a minute or so, when the android's glowering intensifies, we realize that he may have laser eyes and stop immediately.

"So," I start, "Why not just take chickens? That way you'll have a constant source of this source."

"You mean those tiny feathered monsters? Are you out of your mind? When they had been plentiful, they destroyed wiring, tore up the ground, and dodged laser blasters at breakneck speed. Plus, they defy all semblance of logic so we disintegrate them. Unfortunately, in our zeal, we forgot to keep a few for egg production."

Nina is furious. "Are you telling me I'm stuck in a crate instead of working my minimum wage job because your idiot overlords can't handle a couple of chickens?!?"

The android nods.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to collect all of these eggs. And when I get back, I'll - "

"Eliminate us?!?" Sam and his paranoia.

"No. We're civilized. I'll just wipe your brains. There's a fifty percent chance that you'll lose your minds in the process but surely your doctors have the facilities to bring it back to order."

"Ha!" Nina shoots back, "Not with our healthcare. And you said you did your research."

The android leaves.

"Okay," I start, "So what kind of cage are we in?"

"Steel, with an electronic lock." Sharon observes, "Not a very good one too, since the back of the control panel is easy to reach from my side. These aliens really underestimate us." I squeeze by Leia, Larry, and Aaron to see that back's screwed in. "If only we had a - " As I reach into my pockets, I feel a bunch of miscellaneous objects. I pull out some soft caramels, half of a chocolate bar, an assortment of screws, and a Phillip's head screwdriver. "Perfect!"

Everyone turns to me. "I'm an ME, remember? And onesies are great for late night projects…and I get hungry."

Unscrewing the back reveals intricate wiring. "So, what now, ME?" Sam asks, sipping his cold coffee.

"Uh, I don't know. An EE would be better for this but honestly, I don't even think they would have a clue. Different planet, different wiring systems and designs - but similar problems! Can I have your coffee?" Sam hands it over to me. "Stand back! If this works, there'll be sparks everywhere. If it doesn't work, the aliens have perfected waterproofing electrical components, so good on them."

"If they're still afraid of bringing in chickens because of how much damage they've caused than I doubt that they've made any huge advancements."

"Okay, here goes!" And I quickly throw the coffee onto the circuit board and try to get as far as possible.

Good news, it worked! We hear a click and race out of there.

Bad news, the cage isn't that big. As we all run out, I realize that my onesie, part of my hair, and slippers are on fire! As I stop, drop, and roll on the hard concrete ground, Nina gets the fire extinguisher and sprays me.

"Thanks," I say as Nina and Sam help me up. "Now, let's get that android."

___________________________________________________________________________________

We know why Autoraun left George - the manager - alone. It wants to know the different times of the eggs were coming in and could masquerade like all of us. No one would be the wiser. We sneak around, looking for the android (and creeping out shoppers in the process) when we spot Autoraun. It looks like the jerk in the dairy isle and was at the cashier with a customer. As soon as she leaves, George takes it aside.

(Side note: Do I call Autoraun "him" or "it"? I mean, I know Autoraun's an android who doesn't have a gender as far as I know - that's a complicated talk in the immerging world of Artificial Intelligence - and Autoraun did lock us in a cage but 'it' sounds so rude. I'm going back to 'he'.)

Anyway George takes him aside. "Between the customers fleeing like rats off the Titanic and most of my employees AWOL, it's nice to see a dedicated young individual like yourself. Tell me, son, what's your name?"

"Otto, sir." He replies demurely. Seems like his sass left the motherboard.

"Now Otto, you wanted to see me."

"Yes, sir. I was wondering if you can tell me when the next shipment of eggs was coming in. We're all out."

George's eyebrows go up. "We just had a huge shipment this morning. Is there an omelet cook-off that I didn't here about because I make a mean Western -"

"No sir," Autoraun interrupts. "I guess people are just valuing their nutritional value."

"Huh, must have been something on the news. People these days, with all their crazy fades and doodads. In my day, we just relied on good old exercise and clean living -"

"This is all really fascinating but there are customers to help. When will the next eggs get here?"

"Oh, at 11. But let's go in the back. There have got to be some eggs around."

"I've already checked."

"The back can be a confusing place, especially when you're new. Let's check it out."

Autoraun cracks his knuckles. George enthusiastically does the same. "Oh, it's so nice to meet a fellow knuckle cracker. You know, people used to say it knuckle cracking causes arthritis but my doctor friend says that's not true…"

As George rambles on, I notice tiny sparks at the tips of his fingers. "He'll zap George!" I whisper, "Quick, get him!"

Nina, Bob, and Sam pull George away just as he was about to strike. Simultaneously, Aaron and Leia grab him by the arms and Larry and Sharon grab his legs and push him to the ground. Autoraun is so shocked that his purple skin and red eyes come back. He recovers quickly and throws them off. Not knowing what else to do, I pull out my screwdriver and grab his neck from the back. He tries to shake me off, knocking me against various shelves and counters in the process.

"Th-is mus-ust b-e ho-w a- bul-lrid-ddd-er fe-els!"

"There are more ways than one to get rid of a pest!" The android's exoskeleton starts heating up, burning off more of the polyester from my onesie and the arm wrapped around his neck. I grit my teeth when I notice a small section on the base of his head with one screw keeping it in place.

"He-e-eelp! P-i-in hi-m do-wn!"

"Don't you mean 'it'?"

"Sam, really? Let's get in there! One…two…three…go!" Sam and Nina pin him to the ground long enough for me to unscrew the cover. He throws us all off.

"Quick, it's open! Get water, cola, anything liquid!" Phil directs. All around Autoraun, employees open up various bottles and unleash their wet, mostly artificially colored vengeance. Autoraun sputters and smokes before bursting into flames. Nina is again handy with a fire extinguisher.

We cheer as though we just survived Armeggedon.

"We did it!"

"We defeated an alien - "

"Android! But it's from space so technically an alien android!"

"We saved the world - from a shortage of eggs, maybe, but we still saved the world!"

George cut into our celebration. "COULD SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?"

Nina explained. After five minutes of silence, George asked, "So what should we do now?"

I answered, "Probably get the government to look into this. But that's your problem, not mine." I check the wall clock, "It's egg-actly 11 A.M. Can I have two dozen?"

George gets a text on his phone and goes to the back. A few minutes later, he brings back a box of those fancy cage-free, Eggland's best stuff. "This is kinda expensive. Have anything cheaper?"

"It's on the house."

"I can't -"

"Come on, you helped save my workers and my eggs. It's literally the least I could do. Is there anything else you want?"

"A pic with the android - crap, I left my phone at home. Could someone take one for me?"

Phil raises his hand. "I'll do it. Chess match still on?"

"Chess match still on."

Before I left, George stops me. "Hey, can you keep this between us? I don't wanna be in more trouble than I already am. Who'd come to a store with killer androids?"

"A lot of college students, actually. But I promise, what happens in the grocery store, stays in the grocery store. Thanks for the eggs!"

I grab the bus back (getting even more stares than I did this morning) and walk up eight flights of stairs. When I open the door, I see my roommate on her bed surfing the web.

"Where were you? I finished my paper an hour ago -"

She looks up, eyes widening. "What the heck happened to you?" At this point, my onesie, slippers and hair are singed and wet and I smell like coffee and burnt flesh.

I hand her the carton of eggs before going to the bathroom to clean my arm.

"Well, what happened?" She asks again.

I grit my teeth and I wash and sanitize the wound. After wrapping it in gauze, I lift my head, pull up my hoodie, and burst out laughing at the sight of my reflection.

"You'd never believe me."

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thunderbirdcarebear · 7 years

Text

New Beginnings - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 can be found here

Chapter 2 - The Accident

It was about twenty past two when I finally woke up.

I was still tired but I felt a lot better. Until I remembered what Scott had told me.

I sat on the edge of my bed, thinking. Before I went to bed, I'd explained to Alan why I was close to Scott. He'd understood immediately, then hugged me.

I looked at my bedside table. That was where I'd put my photo frame, which I'd picked up in our hurried departure. It was the sort that could hold more than one picture. This one held eight. Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon, Mr. Tracy, father and two of Alan. One was a professional picture and in the other, he was in the pool. I would like to have had a picture of my mother in there, too. I don't know what happened to her and I don't have any pictures.

I picked up the photo frame and looked at the pictures closely, studying each one for a brief moment until my eyes came to rest on the one of Gordon. I sighed as I put the frame down, then crossed the room to where I'd dumped my bags.

Due to our late arrival, I'd only unpacked my nightdress, but after rummaging for about five minutes, I found my dressing gown. I put it on and headed down to the kitchen.

From behind the closed door, I could hear voices. I stood outside and listened for a while.

"They are going to be so surprised when they find out."

"Calm down, Virgil. We don't tell them anything yet. At least, not until Gordon's up and about again." Mr. Tracy's voice seemed to waver as he finished his sentence.

I pressed a button and as the door hissed open, all eyes in the kitchen were on me.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Or is it good afternoon yet?" John announced from the other side of the kitchen. "We were beginning to wonder if you were ever going to get up. Thought we'd have to send in the search parties!"

"John, don't tease her, she's had a long journey," Scott said. "One was cramped, she had bad company and a cabin full of luggage, the other was with Alan and me!" He and Alan started laughing like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said, while the rest of us sane people looked at them with straightjackets in mind.

"Nice to see you, too, Scott." I said.

After lunch, the boys went for a swim while I sat up in the lounge, on the balcony, watching them duck and race each other. I looked behind me to where Mr. Tracy was tidying his desk as he spoke to me.

"Tin-Tin? Do you think you could shout down to them to keep the noise down, please? Gordon's still asleep." I knew Mr. Tracy was joking, but I could see it was hard for him to say.

"Is Gordon all right, Mr. Tracy? Scott told me last night what happened."

He sighed and sat on the edge of his desk. "He's all right. He just needs a lot of rest at the minute," he glanced at the picture of Gordon on the wall. "I'll tell you what. I'll go see if he's awake. If he is, you can go see him. I know how much you two like to talk about water and all, might help him feel better." The possibility of seeing Gordon made me feel happier. I watched as Mr. Tracy started to head towards the door, then double back. He went over to his desk and pressed a button, which set off a buzzer outside, by the pool. He spoke into a microphone at his desk and his words were reproduced through a speaker in the trellis of the patio.

"Can't you lot behave for five minutes? Keep the noise down please, boys," he said in a humorous tone. He smiled, then left.

I looked down as they started whispering and trying to swim quietly. It was very comical to watch, but it didn't last more than a few seconds.

When Mr. Tracy returned, I knew there was good news, it was written all over his face. "He's up, alright. He got up and answered the door! You go ahead and see him. I'm gonna go and tell the others. I just hope they don't get me too wet this time. Last time I went to talk to them with that many of them in the pool at once, I got soaked!"

I don't think I'd ever seen him so happy. I headed off toward Gordon's room, while Mr. Tracy left the villa and started down the steps to the patio.

I remembered where Gordon's room was from my last visit, as I'd spent about four hours in there, looking through his research books with him.

Being an oceanographer and an aquanaut meant that most of Gordon's research material was marine based. I loved looking through it to find dolphin pictures.

I reached his room and knocked the door. "Hang on a minute," I heard him call weakly, "I'm coming."

"Oh, you don't have to," I called through the door.

It opened and stood behind it was Gordon on crutches and with a bandage on his head, but with a huge grin across his face.

"Tin-Tin! I'm so happy to see you!" he cried, leaning forward to hug me.

"I'm happy to see you, too," I said, "but I'm going to need full use of my lungs."

"Oh, sorry," he said, releasing me, and gesturing me in. "I've had a hell of a time these last few months."

We went into his room and he eased himself down onto his bed and rested his crutches against the wall beside him. I sat down on the bedside chair, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"Five months ago, I was out in my speedboat. I was just sailing round, killing time. I guess I didn't turn in time because I hit the other craft at 400 knots. My vessel was completely smashed and I've been in a hospital bed recovering for four months. According to Scott, I was in a coma for most of that time. I got home a month ago, but the course of drugs I was on meant I still spent a lot of time sleeping. I've only just finished them. Dad would come in every morning and every evening bang on 9 o' clock to give me them. As soon as he had, he'd leave and I'd fall asleep again. There were a couple of times when he'd stay in my room when I fell asleep again. On those occasions, he was still sat in the chair asleep if I ever woke. He doesn't come in very often any more, not since the medication ran out."

We talked for a while longer about his time with the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, which he referred to as WASP, and the year he spent underwater investigating marine farming methods.

He also mentioned something about a thunder bird, but I'd never heard of one of those. I assumed it was some sort of bird that lived on the island. When I asked him about it, he looked a bit sheepish. "Dad hasn't told you yet? Oops. You'd better ask him."

About an hour later, Gordon surprised me completely.

"Do you want to go down to the pool? I expect the others are still there."

I did want to, but I didn't want to just leave him. "What about you?"

"I was thinking that when we get to the stairs, you take my crutches and I lean on your shoulder. One of my legs is still good, so it won't be too bad."

My mouth dropped open with surprise as I looked for the words I wanted. "Oh, you want to come with me. Are you up for that?"

"Yes, of course I am. Don't look so shocked. I've been practising on my crutches in here since I came off my medication last week, but the others rarely come in to see me. They think I still sleep twenty-four-seven."

"Well, okay, if you think you can," I said. I still wasn't sure, but we left anyway.

It took a while, but we made it down to the patio. The others were still floundering about like they lived in that pool, but they all stopped splashing about and jumped out one by one as they saw us coming and offered us assistance.

"Gordon!" John yelled.

"Are you all right?" Scott asked

"How are you feeling?" Alan shouted.

"It's nice to see you're looking better," Virgil said.

They spoke with genuine affection for their brother and all looked very happy to see him.

"Look, will you fellers stop fussing over me?" Gordon shouted above their comments and they eventually settled down.

He sat down on the edge of the pool and lay his crutches down beside him, then gently lowered his legs over the edge, letting his feet dangle in the cool water.

It was a strange sight. While one leg swung backwards and forwards, stirring up the water, the other hung nearly lifelessly.

Virgil went and sat next to him and started to talk and I suddenly realised I still hadn't gotten changed and it was nearly quarter to six in the evening.

I turned toward the villa, meaning to go and get changed, when I heard someone call my name. I spun round as John swam to the edge of the pool and called my name again. "Yes, John. What can I do for you?"

"Why don't you join us?"

How could I refuse? I've always loved swimming. "Do I have a choice?" I called.

"No, not really!" he answered, laughing.

I had to hide a grin as he waited for my response. He hadn't noticed what I had. Scott quietly swam up behind him and after taking a breath; he submerged. The next thing I knew, Scott had hold of John's ankles and was pulling him under.

The latter surfaced, spluttering, but Scott was already sat on the other edge of the pool, enjoying a cool drink.

I laughed, then headed up the long flight of steps, colliding with Mr. Tracy just inside the lounge. He groaned and stepped back a little. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tracy," I said, smiling.

"Oh, don't worry, just watch where you're going," he replied, smiling back as he rubbed his chest. "How's Gordon?"

"You can ask him personally if you want. He's down by the pool with the others."

A look of shock crossed his face, then happiness. He looked down at the pool to see Gordon still cheerfully talking to Virgil. We also saw Alan swim underwater towards him, but when he surfaced, Gordon kicked water over him with his good leg. He looked up, saw us looking and waved.

I waved back, smiled at Mr. Tracy, then headed off to my room to get changed.

About a week later, at about half one in the morning, I was woken by a loud noise. Usually, I can sleep through anything, once I'm asleep, but this was so loud, so close. It sounded like a rocket was taking off from somewhere on the island. I didn't know what it was, but it scared me, yet ten minutes later, the noise was gone as quickly as it had started.

#thunderbirds #fanfic #New Beginnings #chapter 2 #Tin-Tin Kyrano #thunderbirds fanfic #thunderbirds fanfiction #fanfiction #old story #Tin-Tin Kyrano's POV

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