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quinncupine · 3 years

Note

Hi if you’re comfortable with Writing MIDORIYA has a crush a on reader and all might notice so he help them get together

Hello! I'm so sorry this took a while to get to. I took another writing break but im back to write this request! It is a bit cheesy, I'm not really sure how to write All Might but I wanted to take a crack at it so I hope you enjoy this silly piece!

Quinns Masterlist

Matchmaker

Word Count: 3,400

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

"Sorry I'm late," Izuku slid into the chair, a bit out of breath from running the whole way to the restaurant. "There was a small incident I had to take care of."

"No worries, I've only been here a few minutes myself." Yagi gave his pupil a warm smile. "I hope everything was resolved?"

"Oh yeah, it was just a purse snatcher. Nothing big." He waved it off, grabbing the water in front of him.

The café was a nice little hole in the wall Izuku had found a few weeks ago. It was hardly ever busy, even during the lunch rush hour, so it was easy to stop by to grab a quick bite. When he mentioned it to Yagi, it sort of turned into their informal weekly get-together spot. With Izuku's hero career on the rise, he was finding himself busier and busier every day, which meant he couldn't see his mentor as often. So he always looked forward to their lunch dates.

"Back again?" your bright voice said between them. "You fellas are like clockwork."

Izuku, mid-sip, turned to you and nearly choked on his water. They'd been coming here for three weeks now and for the third week in a row, you'd been their server. Maybe it was the way you smiled at him or maybe it was the way you always snuck quick glances at him from across the room, but Izuku's brain always seemed to turn off around you.

He didn’t even realize he'd spilled his water until you pulled a towel from your apron to wipe up the puddle on the table. Izuku stammered out an apology as he looked up at you, cheeks tinged cherry red at his fumble, but you only smiled in return.

"It looks like you could use a minute, I'll go get another water for you." And with that, you took the soaked towel and half-empty cup, disappearing from his tunnel vision.

"You alright?" Yagi tried to keep his serious face on, but he couldn't help the twinkle in his eyes because he was right. Now he just needed his plan to go off smoothly. The only problem; Izuku was anything but smooth.

"Uh…yeah," he said, inspecting his wet shirt. "Sorry, I don't know what happened."

The young pro glanced around the small café. It was pretty empty, which wasn't all the unusual. The few patrons the place did have were scattered about and none seemed to have noticed his little blunder.

"Don't sweat it my boy, it happens." The retired hero checked his cell before pocketing the device. "It's going to be a beautiful weekend, do you have plans?"

"I've picked up a few extra shifts on Saturday for Oxman."

Izuku didn't bother with the menu, he always ordered the same thing. Instead, he tried to dab the water out of the soaked fabric, completely oblivious to you approaching the table for the second time.

"You picked up more shifts? For Saturday?" This was throwing a wrench into Yagi's plans. "Don't you think you should take a break? You've been overworking yourself lately and-"

"I've got fresh water for-" Izuku flinched and before you could even finish the sentence, his arm knocked the glass out of your hand, spilling the contents on the table in a mini waterfall.

Both men jumped up as water cascaded over all four sides. This time, it did catch the attention of the other customers. All eyes on them, Izuku flushed, profusely apologizing for the mess as he grabbed as many napkins as he could.

"Calm down, It's alright," you laughed it off, picking up the dripping menus. "I'll just move you to another table. No worries."

The thought of staying any longer after he so thoroughly embarrassed himself, especially in front of you, was torture. No, he had to get out of here before he messed anything else up.

"I'm sorry, uh, I'm, I have to- uh, I have to go," was all he managed to say before he darted from the building at lightning speed.

Yagi sighed and pulled his phone out, typing furiously. He'd expected a few kinks, but this was quickly going south. No, he could salvage this still. He just needed to adjust his plan. Oxman's sector usually ran through Kinro Park. That could work.

"Sorry about the mess," Yagi sighed, crossing his arms.

"It's fine, but is he alright?" You couldn't help but stare out the door that Izuku bolted from.

"The life of a hero." He turned to you. "He's been working so much and unfortunately he'll miss the festivities on Saturday."

"What festivities?" You cocked your head, focusing on him.

"Oh, you didn't hear?" He smiled. Yes, this could work.

Saturday came all too quickly and Izuku found himself in Kinro Park, a large expanse of land that many people flocked to during warm days such as this one. It had everything: ponds, trails, bridges, forests, etc. The park was crowded today with all sorts of people trying to enjoy the nice weather.

An hour into patrol and the only things he'd done so far was catching a stray balloon from floating away and retrieving some phones people had dropped in a few ponds. Not very exciting, but it was nice to have a few days where he didn't have to fight super-powered villains. Small things like these were also part of being a hero.

When he wasn't saving phones from drowning, he thought back on the events that happened earlier that week. Replaying the disaster at the café over and over in his head. How could he possibly go back now? Especially when he acted like a bull in a china shop around you. He was a pro hero for goodness sake, nothing should be able to beat him, yet there you were, taking him down with a single disarmingly cute smile. What was wrong with him?

Lost in thought, he hadn't realized he had walked down one of the smaller trails that lead towards an even smaller grove where a couple of picnic tables were scattered about the grassy area. This trail was a lesser-known path that lead into the heart of the forest, but hardly anyone ever came here simply because the dirt path was so obscure and overgrown, most didn't bother. He was about to turn back when he heard a crack and a startled yelp.

Without a second of hesitation, he kicked it into high gear, racing into the grove to see someone hanging off a branch, halfway up a large oak tree. The mostly broken-off branch they were hanging on was too thin to support anyone's weight so it was only a matter of time before it completely gave way. When the branch finally snapped, Izuku was there, catching them bridle style, midair with ease. What he was not expecting was to come face to face with you: hair ruffled, eyes wide, and a tight grip around his neck.

"Deku!" you whispered a bit breathless. "Thanks."

You knew his name. Sure he was a hero on the rise, but he wasn't a top pro yet and in his opinion, no one very recognizable. Baffled by the recognition, he could only stare and stumble slightly when he landed.

"Deku?" you said again, cocking your head slightly as he still kept a solid grip on you once you were back on the ground. "Are you alright?"

That broke him out of his trance. "I think I should be asking you that." Setting you on your feet, he stepped back to give you some space, even as he wished he could stay closer. "Are you alright?"

Inspecting yourself for injuries, you shrugged with a lopsided smile. "Well, I'm still in one piece thanks to you."

"If you don't mind me asking, um, what were you climbing the tree for anyway?"

Snapping your fingers and turning to the tree again, you pointed near the top. "My bag. I don't know how but I set it down on the table and I turned my back for like one second and suddenly it's all the way up there. All my stuff is in there, I can't get home without it." You sighed and turned to him. "And of course, the day I decide to come all the way out here for this festival, I get lost and now my bag is stuck in a tree."

"What festival?" Izuku had been all over this park and he'd heard no talk of a festival happening today.

"All Might told me about it." You looked shyly at Deku. "He said you'd be too busy working to go so he gave me one of his tickets, but those directions were so confusing and I wound up here."

Izuku definitely didn't remember plans to go to any festival with Yagi this week. Although, there was an event happening in the park next week to showcase a new play in the newly refurbished amphitheater. Yagi had been given tickets and he invited Izuku as his plus one. But he would hardly call that a festival and besides, that was next week.

"The tickets in my bag. Maybe you can make sense of those directions?" You perked up, pointing to the swaying bag high up in the tree. "Also, my only way home is in there, so I kinda need it back."

"Right, I'll get it, hold on," he said and easily made the tall leap to swipe the bag off the branch. When he landed, he handed it to you with a nervous smile. "Safe and sound."

"Thank you Deku, really," you said, brushing off a few stray leaves, "I know it was probably stupid to climb the tree, but I am glad you got here when you did. You really saved me there."

"I'm glad I could help." There was a slight linger in the shared gaze before he broke it off shuffling his boots. It was like his body suddenly had no idea what to do around you. "Um, did you say All Might gave you tickets?"

There was a spark in your eyes at the name. "Well, I know you're probably used to it, but when All Might offered them to me, how could I say no? It's All Might!" Even in retirement, All Might was still just as popular.

The fact that you seemed so giddy about it all only made Izuku's heart beat faster. You were excited by heroes just like he was, or rather, still is. But this time, in your eyes, he was one of those heroes.

After digging through your bag, you produced the small ticket and showed it to Izuku. "The map is on the back, but I can't really make sense of it. It almost looks like it was drawn from memory or something. The festival looks like it should be here in this grove, but obviously, that can't be right."

Izuku inspected the ticket. It seemed normal enough, but after a close examination, he could see a small second layer on top of the paper. A quick scratch at it revealed a sticker that when peeled back, showed the actual ticket for the theatre event next week. Just what was Yagi trying to do?

"What is that?" you grabbed the ticket, peeling the rest of the sticker off. "It's a fake? Why would All Might give me a fake ticket?" This time you looked to Izuku for the answer, but he was just as confused as you.

"It's a real ticket, just not to the right event." Izuku crossed his arms. "I don't know why he would do that."

"Great," you sighed, slinging the bag over your shoulder. "Well, I guess there's no reason to stay here. Thanks again Deku, you know, for saving me and all."

He rubbed the back of his head with a lopsided smile. "Anytime. I need to get back to patrol, but if you decide to climb anymore trees anytime soon, I'll be around."

That got a hearty laugh from you and you lightly pushed his shoulder as you walked past him. "Careful hotshot, you're giving me ideas." That got a small blush from the hero. "And if you decide you're hungry again, I'll be at the café." With a wink, you readjusted your bag and headed towards the trail.

Izuku stood there, at a loss for words as you stepped onto the path. What was he supposed to do now? Did you seriously want him back at the café after the catastrophe he left you with last time? A thousand thoughts zipped through his mind so fast he had to remind himself to breathe.

Another startled yelp brought him out of the whirlpool of thoughts he was drowning in and he looked up. There, blocking your exit, was a small drone with a blue glow fading in and out on the top. It was a familiar design he would recognize anywhere: Mei Hatsume. Why one of her drones was out in the middle of the forest was anyone's guess.

"Target locked." A mechanical voice rang out from the small device.

"Uh, is this thing yours?" you asked, slowly backing away from it.

"Engaging enemy," the voice said before two prongs jutted out the front, each sparking with electricity.

Izuku moved so fast you didn't even realize he'd put himself between you and the drone until green filled your vision, his hand rested reassuringly on your arm. Your focus quickly left the drone and turned to his face, or what you could see of it. Jaw locked, eyes narrowed, and a warm hand melting into your skin. This was the closest you'd been to the pro and despite the seemingly dangerous threat in front of you, you didn't feel in danger. Not with Izuku around.

"Whoops, my bad!" Yagi popped his head out from behind the bushes to your right, holding a large remote in his hand. "I'm so sorry about that!" He said, messing with the full panel of buttons. It seemed like overkill for such a small drone, but if this really was Mei's then that would actually make a lot of sense. Yagi didn't seem to understand what any of the buttons did and resorted to button smashing. That was a bad idea.

The machine sparked and glitched in the air, the prongs jutting back in and out a few times. When it finally stilled, the gentle blue darkened to a deep red and the electric prongs were replaced by small turrets. "Activating instant kill mode."

"All Might!" Izuku warned, gripping your arm tighter in case he needed to make a quick escape.

"I've got it! I've got it!" He, in fact, did not have it. But he did continue his rapid button mashing and one of them must've been the off switch because the device immediately beeped twice and crashed ungracefully to the ground. "See, everything's fine!"

"Who puts instant kill mode on a drone?" you breathed, your own bruising grip on Izuku's shoulder not letting up.

Izuku's guard still up, he let go of you to inspect the device lying lifelessly on the ground. When he was satisfied that it was powered down, he turned his glare towards Yagi, who was still standing sheepishly in the bushes.

"What is going on?" you asked, puzzled by pretty much the entire situation.

Izuku marched towards his mentor and grabbed his arm, hauling him out of the bushes. The man didn't put up much of a fight as Izuku lead him a little farther away, holding a hand telling you to wait where you were for just a moment. When he was out of earshot, he looked up at the retired hero.

"What was that?"

"I was just testing out a drone for young Hatsume," Yagi forced a smile, "It was a failure."

"There's something…strange going on with you lately." Izuku glanced back at you, who had ventured closer to the drone in curiosity. "Why'd you give her that ticket? And why'd you cover it up with a fake event?"

Yagi cocked his head, trying to figure out the best way out of this. "Well, I- um I was just trying to help."

"Help with what?"

The older man let out an exhausted sigh. "It's obvious what's going on between the two of you, but I don't think either of you sees it. Ever since you met that girl, you've been distracted. I was just trying to…speed things along."

Izuku blinked, registering the information before he stepped back, face red. "Wait, so you were trying to-to, play matchmaker?" The thought filled the poor hero with such a heavy embarrassment that All Might of all people was interfering with his…love life.

Yagi groaned and rubbed his face. "No, well sort of. Look, I'm sorry, I just, you were getting so lost in your work that you were neglecting other aspects of your life. I didn't mean to go this far, I just wanted you to realize what was in front of you." He placed his hand on Izuku's shoulder with a sigh. "I was exactly like you at your age. Wanting nothing more than to be the hero that everyone could rely on. But at the cost of a personal life. I'm not saying to abandon your goals, but don't make the same mistakes that I did."

Izuku was only half-listening, too focused on the fact that his mentor, a man he considered a father figure, was trying to set him up with you. You, the one person who turned his stomach into a butterfly sanctuary. The person who seemed to unbalance him with a single look. The person who constantly filled his mind- maybe Yagi had a point. But that didn't make it any less awkward.

"So the bag-"

"Was me."

"The tickets?"

"I thought once you realized the mistake, you'd take her to the show instead."

"And the drone?"

"You were letting her walk away, it was a last resort." He looked down at the controller. "Although, I probably should've practiced more with it. Hatsume makes these things so complicated."

"Deku?" you called, looking a bit uncomfortable, standing alone with the deactivated drone.

"I-" he shook his head. "We'll talk about this later." He pointed to the controller. "And give that thing back to Hatsume."

Yagi nodded but grabbed Izuku's shoulder as he turned to leave. "I'm sorry for the trouble I caused, but you have a chance here my boy, don't squander it."

Izuku looked at Yagi's hand and nodded. "I- I know you mean well Toshi, but I'm grown up now." When Yagi's face fell with a defeated nod, the young hero waved his hands. "But I'm grateful you care so much. Thank you, I can handle it from here."

A small smile made its way onto his face. "I know you do my boy. Go get her."

With a nod, Izuku jogged back over to you, checking you over. Yagi watched the two of you for a moment before blending back into the trees. It seemed the two of you needed privacy.

"Well this has been a weird day," you said when Izuku came back. "Does this happen often for you?"

"This was definitely a first," he admitted. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's alright. You'd never let anything bad happen." you shrugged. "It'll make for an interesting story though. Um, why was All Might hiding in the bushes with a drone?"

"He has too much free time on his hands nowadays." The pro hero muttered, glancing back to the tree line. "Um, so about that ticket, it's actually for next week. I was just thinking, I have one too, so if, uh, if you were interested, we could go together."

"Well I sure can't waste this ticket, after all we went through for it," you grinned. "That sounds fun."

A huge wave of relief washed over him at your acceptance. "Great," he sighed with a smile. "You know, in case some other crazy defective device comes along, I can walk you to your car if you'd like?"

"Wow, a hero and a gentleman." you looped your arm through his. "I'd like that very much.”

It took all of Izuku's training and willpower to stay calm as you leaned into him, getting comfortable for the long walk back. Neither of you noticed a pair of dark blue eyes on you as you left the clearing, excitably holding onto the defective drone because despite the setbacks, his plan had actually worked.

Taglist: @dorki-time @peachsenpie @thecindy @miriobaby @awilddreamerwrites @kiyoobi @dragonsdreamoffire @amive2567 @justscar @kenmaskitten10

#izuku midoriya #all might #toshinori yagi #midoriya izuku x reader #pro hero deku #deku #izuku x reader #bnha #mha #request

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

disconnected

— Kirishima answers a phone call that wasn’t intended for him, and of course he can’t help but be interested in the beautiful voice and soul that angrily began to rant about their day. —

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, lil angst (lol sorry), cursing

word count: 7,786

a/n: this was a stupid thought that slammed into my mind, and here it is!!!! now I have a calc midterm tomorrow that I did not look at because why think about double derivatives and integrals when I can think about kirishima????

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It was eleven at night when Kirishima strolled out of his bathroom, ready to go to bed. After a rather long day, he was looking forward to sleeping and not having to wake up at the crack of dawn. Tomorrow for the very first day in a very long time, he wouldn’t have to work at the local coffee shop he was hired at. It was a job he had acquired with his good friends on the promise of it being a manageable job on top of his college work, and of course, the pretty girls who would go in.

From what Kirishima had gathered from the four months working there was that there were a lot of pretty girls who entered the coffee shop — most of which were focused on the angry ash-blond friend of his — and that it was so unnecessarily stressful.

Some days he was up at four in the morning to open at six for the morning regulars, then he’d go to his afternoon classes, only to return for a two-hour shift in the middle of rush hour, and would leave while trying to keep the peace between a certain ash-blond and two new hires. To say the least, it was hell on Earth at times.

Regardless, he didn’t have to open tomorrow morning, so he was content! On top of not having classes tomorrow, Kirishima was excited to sleep in.

Falling on his bed with a massive sigh, Kirishima snuggled his face into his pillow, rejoicing in the way that the laundry detergent still clung to the fabric and relaxed.

Sleep sounded so—

RIIING.

Kirishima’s eyes slammed open, his head snapping to see his illuminating phone on his nightstand. He had no idea who the hell was calling this late. There was no way it was Bakugou; he was asleep already at this point. Sero had broken his phone two days ago during a failed stunt and wouldn’t be able to get a new phone until the weekend. Kaminari only called him when there was a bug in his apartment, but he was currently closing… maybe it was Mina? Kirishima shook his head, no, he hadn’t spoken to Mina in ages.

Grabbing the phone, he didn’t bother to look at the caller ID and answered.

“Hello—?”

“Oh my god, I am fucking raging! You can’t believe what kind of fuckery I just went through tonight!” a voice shouted into the receiver, and Kirishima flinched a bit at the loud and angry voice. “So you know how I wasn’t supposed to work today, right? Because my coworker had sex with her ex-boyfriend like an idiot, and I owed her for covering my shift three months ago, but anyways irrelevant. I’m taking the order of this one group of adults. That’s right, A-D-U-L-T-S, adults! They are completely staring at my tits the entire time, and not my face. At first, I thought maybe you know, I had spilled something on my tits earlier, no. No! NOTHING! So I call them out on it, and they say something along the lines of ‘you could be a camgirl with that body, but like not in a sex sort of way’ I’m sorry, WHAT?! Like yes, continue sexually harassing your server who is a college student and therefore has no will to live, so will gladly beat your Gucci belt wearing ass into a bloody pulp! What they gonna do? Sue me? I have one dollar to my name, fucking take it, I don’t care, I’ll find another dollar in the sewer after I beat their asses up!

“But you know, I’m saying all this in my head because I’m broke and can’t afford to be fired from this place because the tips are hella good here. But they continue saying dumb shit, and then the obvious ringleader — I know he was the ring leader because his beard looks like it was the first picture printed on a new ink cartridge and his manspread was ten times wider than all of theirs — have the fucking audacity to slip his number while only tipping TEN DOLLARS ON A TWO HUNDRED DOLLAR TAB!!!!” Kirishima doesn’t know what to say, his jaw on his mattress, breathing having stopped while your voice wheezes from your lack of air. He makes a croaking noise, wanting to speak up and apologize for what had happened and for not being the person you thought it was, but it seemed that you weren’t over. “AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THAT FUCKING KAREN!!! ‘I didn’t like the way you looked at me so I won’t be tipping you tonight!’ yeah, well maybe if you didn’t order enough FOOD TO FEED AN ARMY AND KEPT SENDING IT BACK I WOULDN’T BE LOOKING AT YOU LIKE THAT!!!”

There was a pause, and Kirishima, while feeling entirely sorry for you, finally spoke, “Fuck, that sounds... horrible.”

“Damn right, it was horri— wait, who the fuck is this?” your voice squeaked, and Kirishima almost started to laugh at the difference in the tone your voice took. Once so loud, angry, and entirely ‘fuck the world,’ had changed into a meek and embarrassed voice.

“Um, this is Kirishima. Kirishima Eijiriou?”

“This isn’t Hagakure?” you moaned into the phone. “03-9082-2395? That isn’t this number?”

“2-2-9-5,” Kirishima repeated his own number back, a small smile overcame his features knowing that you had accidentally misdialed a number.

“Fuck my fat fingers,” you cursed, and Kirishima chuckled lightly at the mutterings that were poorly picked up. “Well, um, I am so sorry for calling you and dumping that unnecessary bullshit on you—”

“No, no,” Kirishima interrupted, rolling onto his back, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling. “It’s totally okay! You seem less stressed out now too, and it really isn’t a big deal!”

“You are very kind, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, and Kirishima can’t help but imagine a figure curled up on a couch.

“Thank you!” he beamed, a hand threading through his hair, “um, but what happened with the Karen? And why were you typing in your friend’s phone number?”

“Do you really want to know?” you ask after a fit of bubbling laughter; it seemed that you were not at all convinced.

“I work at a coffee shop for one, so I totally understand the Karen situations! Secondly, all my contacts are on my phone, I don’t have a single one of them memorized!”

“Okay, okay, okay, I do not have this number memorized! Hagakure is my roommate, and she has a new number that she left posted on our fridge and because Mr. Sprinkles left in the middle of my rant, I called her to finish it!” you explain in what Kirishima could only consider being childlike glee. “And a coffee shop? Oof, Kirishima, you might have it just as bad as I do then.”

“Ever had a boiling cup of coffee thrown back at your face?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I wish I was joking!”

“The nastiest thing I’ve ever been put through is a highschool couple breaking up in the middle of the restaurant, and a bowl of cold soup and milkshake were thrown at me! And I had to work for another five hours!”

“That… that beat mine by a long shot…”

“Okay, but like, it was cold. If you hadn’t dodged, you’d be dead!”

As time passed Kirishima soon found himself sitting up on his bed, his back pressed against the headboard, a lamp on so that he wasn’t in the dark while he talked to you. Somehow conversation flowed so perfectly between the two of you, so smoothly, so naturally. You had extremely compelling energy and a pretty bright one at that as well. Your stories were exceedingly extravagant, most derailing into hundreds of side stories before making its way back to the main point, but he didn’t mind. Though there was no proof, he imagined that your arms were swinging around while you talked, a bright smile on your face, and lights shining in your eyes.

“So anyway, I had to beg my professor to let me remake this exam because, for some reason, my brain would not switch back to Japanese. I almost cried because I was only speaking in English, and I think because I am an amazing person, my professor let me do that!” you laughed after explaining an issue with being fluent in a third language.

“My English skills deteriorated after leaving high school, I’m rather jealous you can speak three languages,” Kirishima admitted, his head falling back onto the cold wall. “My Japanese professors probably think my Japanese sucks too.”

“Just because I am amazing and can speak three languages doesn’t mean I’m perfect at it,” you laugh, obviously trying to make him feel better about himself.

“Mm, I don’t know, you’re painting yourself as a pretty perfect person,” Kirishima sighed. “Or you have an enormous ego…”

A loud scoff came from your end of the phone, and Kirishima waited for your verbal retaliation but was met with a moment of silence.

“Oh! Welcome home!” you called out, and Kirishima quickly put together that your roommate Hagakure was home. “Yeah, no, I’m talking to someone right now! ...who? Oh, um, a friend! ...no, I tried to call you when I got home but misdialed your number and got him instead! NO! You’re not going to get a pic of him! Wait, it’s what time?!”

Kirishima’s eyes fell over to his alarm clock and saw in the dim red light that it was 04:57.

His jaw dropped.

“Well, um, Kirishima, it seems that our call is going to end,” you whisper into the phone, and Kirishima lets out a breathless chuckle, sudden sleepiness creeping into him. “It was pretty fun chatting with you stranger, thanks for putting up with that ranting in the beginning! Most normal people wouldn’t have picked up or let me rant like that!”

“It’s no problem,” Kirishima smiled softly, his fingers stretching out to turn off the light. He licked his lips, five hours on a phone call with an absolute stranger, and he didn’t have your name, and better yet, a part of him wanted to ask if it was okay to be friends. You were magnetic to him, and he wanted to know more about you, even if this was this weird modern and accidental penpal thing. “I didn’t have anything to do today, and you were fun talking to!”

“Aww, thank you!”

Silence.

Ask, he thought, his teeth biting down onto his bottom lip. Ask!

“Um, I know this is weird and all, but do you think I can keep your number?” you ask, your voice almost timid and meek.

Kirishima’s heart rate spikes at those words, he very much wanted that, but his mouth had a mind of its own it seemed. “Why?”

“Wha— well, I just had a lot of fun talking with you! It was fun, and I don’t know, you seem like a pretty chill guy!”

His fingers gripped his phone, a warmth spreading through him when he relaxed under his sheets. “On one condition.”

“Oof, if you’re going to ask to decide between Crimson Riot or All Might you’re going to be—”

“No, no,” Kirishima lets out a snort, his shoulders rolling while he imagines the curious look coming over your face. “I would like to know your name?”

“My name? Why would you want— HOLY SHIT! I never gave you—” there was a loud noise on your end of the call, and Kirishima heard you apologize profusely before returning in a hushed whisper. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t give you my name?!”

“No,” he laughed loudly, one that was pushed from his belly, spreading warmth through his body. “You never did, but I did learn every name of every person you’ve ever talked with!”

“God,” you groan, a small whine emitted from you. “I’m an idiot, I’m so sorry! Y/l/n y/n at your service!”

Y/l/n y/n, that’s a pretty name, he thought while imagining just what you could look like.

“Well, goodnight y/l/n, I’ll save your number, and we’ll see if you still would like to be friends when you wake up?”

There was a small noise of agreement, “I’m like a drug, Kirishima, you’ll be back for more.”

“Okay, okay, goodnight…”

“Goodnight, sweet dreams!”

“Sweet dreams.”

Kirishima listened to the line ending, and he pulled his phone away from his ear and no sooner did he do that, a text came in at what he believed to be your number:

don’t let the bed bugs bite! 🕷😱‼️

He snorted and replied back before eventually letting sleep consume him.

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“You’ll never believe what just happened!” you squealed into the phone, and Kirishima laughed while wiping his sweaty face with a white towel. You had called thirty minutes earlier than usual and had caught him leaving the gym.

It had been a bit over two months since your misdial, and things with you had been going pretty well for strangers. The two of you didn’t talk every day, most weeks going by with just a single call, but they were always delightful talks. You worked most nights, and he most mornings, the two of you discovered. So most calls took place the night he didn’t have to work the following morning.

“You got a customer who complained that there was too much salt in their meal that had no salt in it?” he asked, pulling a random story of something that had happened at his own coffee shop today. You let out an amused snort, a clear indicator that he was wrong, but found his guess to be amusing at the very least.

“No, but oddly enough, someone did ask for an insane amount of salt on their food and hated it!” you sang, clearly happy with how you found their distress to be funny.

“Close enough!” Kirishima laughed, but he was straight out of guesses, so he stopped. “So, what happened?”

“I tried coffee for the first time ever today!” you squealed loudly, and Kirishima cheered happily.

Through these two months, there were some hard facts that Kirishima had learned about you. One, you were living in the same city as him. Two, you worked at a semi-classy restaurant. Three, you had two roommates named Hagakure and Jirou. Four, you were twenty, just like him. And five, you were a child who only drank hot chocolate and tea because you were afraid of coffee.

“Caffeine is a drug you know,” you had snarkily teased him one night when he said he was going to make a cup of coffee. “Nice to know I’m friends with an addict!”

“If drugs were as amazing as coffee, I’d be an addict!”

“You know…” your voice whispered, your voice suddenly taking a guilty approach. “I’ve never actually tried coffee…”

“WHAT?!”

“Wow, look at you, becoming an old woman in front of my own eyes!” Kirishima chuckled, starting his walk back home.

His fingers pushed the headphones to be more secure over his ears, hopeful that there it wouldn’t pick up too heavily on the wind of the outside world.

“To be honest, it wasn’t that good, your taste buds are just tarnished from drinking that bitter crap all day!” you huff and he half imagined you turning your nose up.

“Okay, okay,” Kirishima laughed, a warmth flooding in his chest at the sounds of your muffled laughter. A visible indicator that you were also amused at this. “I hated coffee until I started working at a coffee shop, and that was because I needed to know my shit.”

“Wow, you only got that job while not being a coffee addict?” you tease. “Seems like a fake barista to me.”

“It’s pretty hard to believe, I know,” Kirishima stated his tone one of fake melancholy. “I’m so sorry for deceiving you, and honestly, I am a shit barista.”

“Aww, don’t say that!” you exclaim, and it seems like you’re ready to fight him. “I bet you put all those fancy TikTok baristas to shame!”

“TikTok?” he laughed, his pace speeding up just a bit so he would get home faster. “Wow, I am honored you think that!”

The light conversation continued, nothing too deep or too intense, just chatter about today's shifts and classes. Eventually, Kirishima made it back into his apartment complex, and stumbled into his room, collapsing onto his bed.

“Can I ask something?” you ask suddenly, and Kirishima lets out a small hum.

“Yeah, of course, what’s up?”

“What do you look like?” you asked softly as if you were curled up in bed, seconds from letting sleep consume you. “I haven’t come up with a mental image that I like, and well, I want some hints.”

“I can just send you a picture of me,” Kirishima smiles, his eyes closing. “It would be much easier than me trying to explain to you what I look like.”

“No!” you disagree, and there's a long sigh from your end of the phone. “I’m not ready for that kind of information yet, Kiri. I just… I can’t accept a pic of you without sending one back, and I’m not mentally ready for that yet…”

“Don’t tell me the big fat Gucci bougie you is shy?!” Kirishima exclaimed, humor drowning his words as he referenced you to something you had called yourself one drunken night weeks ago.

“Not shy!” you bemoan, your voice muffling out at the end of it. “I’m more scared you’ll find me ugly and ghost me…”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Kirishima interjected, his voice stable and confident.

“Which part?”

“Both parts.”

“How do you know that? You don’t know what I look like…”

“...call it… Kirishima’s intuition,” Kirishima slowly stated, his eyebrows furrowing. “I find your voice and your personality to be attractive on their own, so I would never ghost you. And of course, appearance isn’t anything; plus, there’s no way you’re not gorgeous.”

He says these words with honest truth, and a part of him fears he overstepped and made you wildly uncomfortable with the amount of silence that is heard from your end of the line. But finally, as Kirishima is ready to apologize to you, a soft exhale is heard.

“You’re a dork,” you whisper, and a soft grin spreads on his own face. “Anyways, I’ll ask questions, you answer them first, and then I’ll do the same.”

“Sounds good!”

“Hair color?”

“Black, but I dye it red.”

“Mm, edgy teenager, I like it, and also knew that because you complained about your stained sheets! Eye color?”

“Red.”

“Oh, am I sensing a theme? How tall are you?”

“I’m… a bit over six feet?”

The list went on, most questions becoming more of a joke than anything else, but he was glad that you were asking these things because now he had an insight on how you looked too. You had told him your eye color, your hair color, how tall you were, and a whole bunch of trivial things he would have never thought to ask about to begin with.

“Okay, last question!” you cheered, happy to have finally included Kirishima into your inside joke that revolved around your eyebrows. “Do you have any distinguishing features?”

“Well, I don’t actually...” Kirishima admitted, his fingers brushing against the scar on his eye, and then it hit him. That was one! “Oh, wait—” CRASH. A loud crashing noise emitted from your side of the call.

“Shit, hold on!” you curse and Kirishima can only remain silent while he hears you yelling in the background, it was too far away for him to quite understand, but it was enough to know that it didn’t sound okay.

Kirishima sat on his side of the call, the phone pressed to his ear while he tried to strip his gross and sweaty shirt from his body. His teeth bit into his lip, his canine pressing into the permanent indent of his lip, an indicator of how anxious he used to be.

“Fuck, Kiri?” your voice suddenly snapped back onto the call, your tone frantic and quick.

“Everything okay?”

“No, Hagakure showed up drunker than… a drunken drunk, I don’t know expressions, ANYWAYS I know tonight is our unofficial official call night, but anyway I can get a rain check?”

There was guilt that swallowed your voice, a pang of guilt that made Kirishima warm a bit because it showed that you valued these calls, just like him.

“Of course, I don’t have class or work Friday morning this time around, so Thursday night?”

“That works perfectly,” you sigh, gratitude. “I owe you, text you later if you don’t fall asleep! Goodnight, sweet dreams, love ya!”

Kirishima couldn’t repeat the whole statement before you hastily hung up, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face the entire time he showered. The shower didn’t take too long, and by the time he emerged from the shower, towel around his neck and his waist, he had a text message.

sero - hey bro!!! i can’t pick up my morning shift tomorrow i know you have tonight to speak w y/n but todoroki and bakugou can’t cover it!

Kirishima sighed, he definitely didn’t have anything tomorrow anyways, he could manage with going in for an extra shift to help a friend.

kirishima - yeah sure what time?

sero - youre a life saver T-T im covering 8 am - 3 pm!!!

Kirishima sent a simple affirmative emoji before finishing up his nightly routine.

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Kirishima looked at his apron while he was assembling himself in the backroom. The aroma of roasted coffee beans and pastries was almost pungent in the back, and he was eager to get out of there. As per employee regulations, he was to wear a black apron, a name tag, and something to hold his hair because it was a bit too long, for that, he wore a white bandana around his forehead.

“Wait, where’s my name tag?” Kirishima called out, his eyebrows furrowing when he turned out to Kaminari, who was currently in the back with him.

The blond froze and scratched the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly, “About that…”

So Kirishima was in the front of the store with a shiny silver name tag that read Hanta Sero. Because Kaminari was the best barista they had on hand currently, he was busy teaching Midoriya — their newest hire — around the bar. For now, Todoroki was nowhere to be found, and Kirishima was handling the cash register.

Today was a slow morning, most people had their day off today, so morning coffee rush wasn’t in existence. Sure, there were a few outliers, but it was never chaotic.

The gentle bell of the front door rang, and Kirishima automatically called out.

“Welcome!”

You had walked into the store, your eyebrows furrowed while you prayed that this was the coffee shop your roommates had been raving about. You’d never been here before, but it was the closest coffee shop available that wasn’t something generic and basic like Starbucks. You looked up from your phone at the voice, a thank you automatically being repeated while you neared the register.

You froze when you saw the red hair and the red eyes of the handsome man at the register. A careless thought entered your mind, Kirishima said he had red hair and red eyes… but he said he didn’t work today…

A kind smile sat on his face, his eyes taking you in, waiting for you to approach him.

This couldn’t be him, right?

The last time you had assumed a redhead working in a coffee shop was Kirishima, it had ended embarrassingly.

“Um, hi,” you drawled out, your eyes reading the board to figure out your own order.

Kirishima couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, you were exactly what you had described to him, but he wouldn’t ask until he was sure. He would ask you for your name after collecting your order for either tea or hot chocolate, and if it was you, he’d reveal that he was Kirishima. But he didn’t want to be wrong; he didn’t want to pin any other person as you, after all.

“I’ve never been here before,” you confess, your hand rubbing the back of your head. You were transfixed on the caramel macchiato that was spelled in the prettiest font, though, plus Hagakure promised all their coffee was good.

“Oh, well, welcome! If you need any recommendations or have anything else to order, I can put those through while you look?”

His smile was kind, and you felt blood rush to your face, something you desperately tried to fight off by thinking of anything you didn’t like.

“Oh! I do have two orders, though! There’s going to be one chai tea latte with three pumps of vanilla, and a lavender tea with a splash of oat milk.”

Kirishima nodded his head, “Will this be for here, or to go?”

His voice sounds so similar to Kirishima, you hoped, studying his face. While you answered that it was to go, you saw a distinctive scar on his right eye. Kirishima had said he didn’t have any distinguishing features…

“What are your favorites here?” you ask, your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, your thoughts very evident in your face.

Kirishima couldn’t help but find hope bubbling up in his chest, there was always the possibility that you two lived in the same city-based off the same area code, and with what seemed like an incomplete knowledge in coffee, maybe…

Kirishima rambled off about the different seasonal drinks right now, his recommendations leaning towards the teas and non-coffee things primarily after his general and basic list. You seemed to take every word out of his lip like gospel, agreeing and nodding when appropriate, and his lips stretched into a grin when you bluntly exclaimed your ill knowledge of this all.

“To be honest, I only step into coffee shops to take a cute pic and then leave,” you laugh, pressing your hands against your lips and screaming a bit in your throat.

Kirishima laughed, more confidence blooming through his body over the hope that this was you. It had to be you.

Your eyes then found the nametag on his apron, and like a sinking ship, you read Sero.

Not Kirishima.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have the caramel macchiato,” you decide, a grateful smile on your face while he looks down and writes the orders.

“A name?”

“Penny,” came your automatic response.

You never used your real name in coffee shops.

Kirishima suppressed the way that his mouth wanted to drop into a sad smile, and like two rejected teenagers, the money was exchanged. Before Kirishima could attempt to calm his disappointed soul, you walked out of the shop with the coffees and tea in hand.

“What was that about?” Kaminari asked, his eyes wide. “There was so much flirting and then poof, gone from both sides. Come on, dude, it’s my job to fail at flirting, not yours!”

Kirishima laughed, ignoring the way that his three friends looked at him with concern and curiosity. “Nothing, I just… the customer looked like how y/n described herself to be…”

“Oh… sorry, bro.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Kirishima waved it off, and without so much as another slap on the back, he went back to work.

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“What the hell are you doing?”

Kirishima looked up from his phone, his fingers mid-type pausing only for a millisecond before continuing to text blindly.

“Oh, hey, Bakubro, what’s up?” he cheerfully spoke, ignorant to the controller in the ash blond’s hand.

“It’s your turn, shitty hair, pay fucking attention!” Bakugou barked, tossing the plastic controller into his chest. Kirishima grunted, the feeling of the plastic slamming against his chest was less than ideal, but the smile on his face didn’t waiver while he offered his best friend the controller back.

“It’s all good, you can have another turn, I can handle being out this round!”

“Kiri, that’s six rounds in a row,” Kaminari spoke up, his face in a teasing smirk.

It was then that Kirishima’s face turned approximately the same color as his hair. “I didn’t—”

“Awww, Eijirou has a little crush on y/n!!!” Kaminari sang, resulting in agreeing with noises from Sero and Midoriya. Only Bakugou and Todoroki remained silent.

Kirishima only laughed, he knew he couldn’t deny that fact, but he wouldn’t say it aloud — especially because Bakugou seemed to hate you. It had been now four months since the two of you had ‘meet,’ and while he still had no face to imagine you with, things had taken a slightly flirty route between the two of you.

Calls were much more frequent, nearly all nights the two of you would speak, even if it was just a measly summary of the day and a ‘sweet dreams’ and a ‘goodnight’ and an ‘I love you.’ It always happened nowadays.

Tonight was an exception, of course, because he was out with his friends, and apparently, you were doing the same.

“You can’t be fucking serious?” Bakugou spat, a laugh spluttering from his lips, but it was cold and held no humor. “You caught feelings for a person who’s too much of a fucking coward to reveal a picture of themselves?”

“That’s not fair; besides, it's not about physical appearance!” Kirishima waved him off, pressing send to his text message.

have fun tonight! text me when u get back home if ur able to!

“Just how naive can you be?” Bakugou sneered, his hand taking the phone from Kirishima's side. “Six months of talking every week, texting every day, and this y/n still hasn’t trusted you with a single picture of them? I know you said that she told you how she looked, and all that shit, but let's be real, it’s so easy to lie about how you look like when you don’t have to provide a picture. What y/n say? Big tits? Big ass? Small waist? What about her did she say that made you so fucking insane over her?”

“N-Nothing! We didn’t talk about our body types!” Kirishima’s eyes widened significantly, the once comfortable atmosphere of the room wholly gone while Bakugou’s vermillion eyes seethed silently. ��None of that matters! I told you the truth! I like y/n because of her personality, she’s manly, and I like that a lot! It’s not about her appearance, how pessimistic can you get, bro! I promise you, she’s trustworthy!”

“Is she really?”

“What?”

“How can you be in love with someone who you trust entirely, but doesn’t trust you at all? You said that y/n won’t show you a picture of herself because she’s scared you won’t like her? How is that trusting you? How is that fucking fair? To me, that sounds like some fucked up catfishing thing.”

“We talk on the phone, dude,” Kirishima said softly, but those thoughts were invading his mind. Did you not trust him? He knew he wasn’t the best option in the world, and he had accepted that in time and by improving on what he thought he was best at. But did you, after all this time, really not believe him when he claimed nothing would change when he saw you? “Catfishes don’t even do that… besides, the first call was by accident, why would someone—”

“Dunce face, what’s that one fucking idiotic thing you do for fun?” Bakugou snapped at the blond, not even bothering to look at him.

“Well, there’s a lot of things I do that you—” Kaminari laughed awkwardly, his smile tight and awkward.

“Kaminari.”

“I call… random numbers… pretending to have a big issue to see how they react…” he admitted, and Kirishima’s stomach clenched.

“And?” Bakugou snarled.

“I pretend to be a girl…”

“Don’t be stupid, Bakugou, this is more than one time!” Kirishima groaned.

“It's a voice that you can’t attach a face to, who knows if this is a person you can trust! People with voice acting exist in this world, how the hell do you possibly know that they’re not one of them?! Be fucking real, if ‘y/n’ trusted you, if that’s even their name, they wouldn’t be hiding their face from you.”

Kirishima didn’t say anything else, the acid piling in his throat was too much for him to even look at his friend. The night didn’t really recover from that conversation, and Kirishima eventually found himself back home.

He sat at the edge of his bed, his phone in his hands, waiting for a message from you. He couldn’t sleep, and even though he had work tomorrow morning, he found himself wide awake, unable to let sleep consume.

It was three in the morning when you sent a text, his eyes still wide awake, and with shaky fingers, he read the message.

i just got home can you believe that i drank three cups of wine and didnt get tipsy??????? thats on being a raging alcoholic ;D

Kirishima wanted to laugh; on god, he would’ve found this beyond delightful to read because he knew you couldn’t handle your liquor, but that bitter stream of acid destroyed the humor in his thoughts.

Were you really telling the truth? Was this all a lie?

He didn’t text back; instead, his finger pressed the call button, and he held his breath.

“Helloooo?” a voice picked up on the second ring, but it wasn’t your voice. It was a voice he didn’t recognize at all.

‘Voice actors,’ Bakugou’s voice reentered his thoughts, and the phone in his hand nearly dropped.

“Sorry, hello?” the voice he knew as you finally came through, and Kirishima let out a shallow breath, one so small, so mediocrely weak it burned his lungs.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, maybe too softly because you asked with a strained laugh for him to repeat his words. “Do you trust me, y/n?”

There was a pause on your end, too long a beat for Kirishima to be comfortable with.

“Of course I trust you, Ei, are you okay?”

“Do you actually trust me, or are you lying?”

“Woah there,” you said a small laugh on your tongue, but there was only confusion in it, not your contagious sound. “Did you drink? It’s a work night, you never do that!”

“Answer the question,” Kirishima spoke with finality, his shoulders tense, tears pushing past his eyes while he struggled to maintain composure.

Prove Bakugou wrong, please, prove Bakugou wrong.

“Of course I do,” you spoke with genuine clarity, but still, Kirishima was rattled, his confidence blown. “What’s going on?”

Did he want to confess to his insecurities? Was it worth it? His breathing became frantic, almost as if he was going insane just thinking about where his thoughts were. But Kirishima was never good at hiding things, no he was as open as a book.

“Why won’t you let me see you… we’ve been friends for six months, and the only thing I know about you is your eye color and your hair color. It’s so insanely generic that I can’t… I can’t do this.”

“What are you trying to say?” you ask, your voice small, almost a whisper of all the energy one could have at this time of night.

“I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t trust me, who’s using me,” he spoke with perfect clarity that hid away his insecurities about this all. “For all, I know nothing about you is real, that this is all just some ploy to hurt me in the end. Six months and you can’t trust me with a single meet up or even a picture? I just… has this been a game for you, y/n? Or is that even your name.”

The call ended and a single message held on his screen, this call has been dropped, but you didn’t seem to want to call him back.

Kirishima didn’t sleep a wink that night, his words coming back to bite him in the throat each and every time he thought he was close enough to sleep. Insecurities riled up in him, consuming him entirely.

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He tried to call back.

For fourteen straight days, Kirishima attempted to call you back.

Every time he called you, he would always hang up before he could take back his words. But each call, after he had prematurely hung up, he would recant his mean words to the unresponsive phone. He did trust you, he was weak, he was unmanly to assume those things. You could take, however long it took to finally trust him again because he would wait for you no matter what. He apologized again and again until the very last one he broke down into silent tears, a single message of ‘I hope one day you’ll forgive me’ hung weakly on his voice and put his phone away.

It was sixteen days since he had spoken those cruel words to you, and in that time, he didn’t regret finally talking about his ill feelings towards wanting to reveal yourself to him. But he did regret the way it came out; instead of it being a deep and personal conversation, it came out as bitter and one-sided. The two of you were disconnected, and he felt empty.

But he couldn’t focus on it, not today, after all, it was Bakugou’s birthday, and everyone was gathering at the local fancy restaurant to celebrate.

Kirishima dressed up presentable, wearing a navy blue button-up, and dark slacks. He walked towards the entrance of the restaurant where Kaminari, Sero, and Midoriya were eagerly leading the group of them into the building. Typically Kirishima would’ve been with them in terms of spirit, but he felt energyless at the moment.

With the moon high in the sky, Kirishima stilled when Bakugou called out his name.

He stared at his best friend, the ash blond’s lip curled into a sneer while he huffed, “Listen, Kirishima, I’m sorry for what I said that night.”

“What? Oh, no, it’s okay, Bakugou!” Kirishima laughed, his hand slapping to the back of his neck. “You weren’t wrong.”

“I never said I was wrong,” Bakugou grunted, his eyes locked on Kirishima’s while he shoved his hands into his pockets. Kirishima stilled, unsure as to where this would be leading. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I know that Mina hurt you badly, and you’re too big of an idiot to not see when things arise. Maybe y/n is genuine, but if you aren’t fucking honest with her about your own feelings about how she’s so secretive, it’s not going to work.”

Kirishima smiled softly, a weak shrug moving through him, “I know, thanks, man.”

Bakugou nodded, and without a word, he continued on ahead where Midoriya was yelling at them to hurry up and come so they could be seated.

Kirishima sighed, rolling out his shoulders before following afterward.

Kirishima followed after the hostess, smiling at her gratefully when she sat the group into their own private room and left.

“Bakugou’s paying, right?” Kaminari stage whispered to Midoriya while staring at the prices on the menu.

“Eat shit, dunce face, learn how to save up your fucking money the next time you offer to come to this fucking place!” Bakugou roared, hearing the whisper.

“I’ll be covering the bill,” Todoroki informed with a smirk on his face. Kirishima laughed, looking at the prices and indeed agreeing with Kaminari’s statement. Having a wealthy friend was very convenient at times like this.

“Hi, welcome to Eiko, I’ll be your waitress today!” a voice chirped from the entrance of the room, and Kirishima froze, he recognized that voice and face.

It was the person he had mistaken for you all those months ago.

By the smile on your face, it seemed that you recognized them all too.

“And what is your name,” Sero winked, his eyes captivated by you.

“Oh, haha, sorry, my name is y/n,” you smiled, moving the menus you held in your hand to show the silver nametag on your uniform.

“Oh, like Kirishima’s y/n,” Kaminari laughed, pointing a finger at Kirishima, not at all being as quiet as he probably thought himself to be. But it seemed that he wasn’t the only one who thought that because while Kirishima was staring at your face, embarrassingly taking you in, you followed Kaminari’s finger.

Your sight sat on the redhead in the middle whose name was Kirishima, and you straightened up in what felt like panic.

“You’re Kirishima?” you asked quietly, your finger grasping the menus so tightly, your knuckles turned white. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

“The one and only,” Kaminari voiced for him, his arm thrown over Kirishima’s shoulder while he nodded like a scholar. “And why do you ask?”

“Shut the fuck up, dunce face.” Bakugou hissed.

Kirishima continued to stare at you, a million words running through his head, yet not a single one being translated on his tongue. You were beautiful.

What should he say?

What could he say?

Your lips pursed, and you shook your head, a smile of disbelief spreading across your face, “Unbelievable.”

“Y/n—”

“Be quiet,” you snap, your tone angry, but your eyes beyond hurt. “What can I get you guys to drink?”

Dinner wasn’t exactly a pleasant time, you came in and left faster than anyone could blink, and yet none of their drinks went empty, nor did they really have a problem. Much quicker than Kirishima would’ve liked, they were done and were soon piling out of the restaurant after Kirishima decided to leave a very, very generous tip.

“I’m going to stay until I can speak to y/n,” Kirishima said, waving off his friends who were expecting him to follow. But he couldn’t, not when he felt like the world's biggest ass for what he did to you.

“Good luck,” they all wished him well before eventually leaving, knowing better than to stick around.

So there at the outside bench, Kirishima waited.

Two hours he sat there until you emerged from the front door, your hair was no longer put back, you held your apron in your hand, and your purse on your shoulder.

“Y/n!” he called out, his feet no longer cemented into place; he strode after you.

You didn’t seem to pick up the pace, nor did you slow down. You were focused on your car that sat at the edge of the parking lot, and you ignored his calls.

It wasn’t until his hand touched your shoulder, and he appeared before you did Kirishima freeze again. Angry hot tears slid down your face, your face screwed up, your shoulders stiff.

“What do you want, Kirishima?” you spat, but there was only exhaustion in your voice, nothing bitter, nothing at all what Kirishima deserved from you.

“I want to apologize,” Kirishima whispered, his hands struggling to reach out and wipe your tears away. You were crying because of him, he did this to you. “I was a dick, I was… beyond unmanly to you, and I’m so sorry! I just let Bakugou get into my head, and I’ve never been a secure person because, well, I’m just… fuck, I don’t even know, but all I know is that you didn’t deserve this. And I like you so much, but I didn’t — I don’t know what to do?!”

Your eyes stared up at him, they were bright with tears, wounded beyond anything Kirishima could hope to fix.

“That night, you said if I didn’t trust you, but I did trust you! I’ve always trusted you—” your finger jabbed his chest— “but it was you who didn’t trust me! I get that it’s hard to not have a picture of someone you care about after a long length of time, but we were always fine for a while! It was going to happen, but while I trusted you, I didn’t trust myself, okay?! I couldn’t trust myself to see that if you were so much more handsome than me that I couldn’t be confident enough to let myself be friends with you! I constantly fuck up relationships when I have crushes on people because… I don’t know, I just do! But you were someone with no risk and the highest risk, and I wanted to be sure in my own feelings before giving you a picture of me! But… fuck, Kirishima, you didn’t trust me!”

Kirishima’s throat tightened, the tears on your face a guilty reminder that this was because of him. But how could he fix this?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his hands grabbing onto your arms just above the elbow, and his head hung by your forehead, not quite touching you, but just enough that his spiked hair teased the atoms between you. You were taller than he expected, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with, no, not at all. “You’re right, I didn’t trust you, and you didn’t deserve that. I don’t think there’s anything that I can say, or do for that matter, to change your mind, and I’m sorry. I just panicked because who gets into this type of situation, how do I tell my phone friend that I have feelings for her? I was weak, and I am so fucking pathetic, and I just want to make things better. If you’ll let me be your friend again…”

He slowly looked back up at you, and you were frozen in your place, tears falling down your face still.

“I don’t think we can be friends,” you confessed, and Kirishima’s heart broke in two, his hands dropping from your arms in his embarrassment and humiliation.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry still, um… maybe I’ll see you again?” Kirishima smiled despite it all, he kept smiling despite the crack in his chest and his soul.

“You will,” you murmured, and before Kirishima could blink, your fists wrapped in his collar, and you brought him down for an ardent kiss that he was not quick to respond to. It took three seconds for him to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in, kissing you again and again and again.

It didn’t seem to matter to either one of you that you were both now kissing without a care in the world in the middle of a parking lot, because you both had your emotions exposed to the other, and you didn’t want to be friends. At least not when the man who held your heart confessed that you held his in yours.

The two of you weren’t truly disconnected, it was just a little lost moment in your call.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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plethora-of-imagines · 4 years

Text

Festive Ball

AN: Another Christmassy/Winter themed fic! This one is actually pretty long but it isn’t very Master heavy, content wise.

Word Count: 1802

Warnings: unintentional alcohol consumption

Description: You get a bit drunk while at a festive party with the Master.

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings @how-masterful @truthbehindthemysteries

“A drink for the honorable Lady?”

The room was filled with people, aliens of several species. Some you could name, others you could not. If the Master was still by your side you were sure he would be explaining the ones that it would be important for you to know about. At the moment, however, the Master was on the other side of the room, chatting up some random alien who he had said was third in line for an important throne on Velsavar. They may be third in line but they would be ruler in just 3 months. A coup killing their “bastard father” and their heir siblings. Of course, the Master intended to take advantage of that.

You tore your gaze away from the Master on the other side of the room to look at your host. He had graciously offered the Master and you a place to stay during the festivities. Neither of you were certain of his motives, but he seemed to find the Master an interesting conversation partner. The two of you were somewhat hesitant to place any trust in him but he seemed -biased on his reputation- to be uninterested in causing problems for the two of you. He was far more interested in impressing his guests at his soirees with dazzling decor, and even more impressive guest lists.

He had referred to the two of you as most honored guests when he had discovered who you were. The formidable Master and his lady love, the most feared criminal couple in the universe. He had extended an invitation for the two of you to attend his annual holiday party and provided a room for the two of you to spend the night in if you so chose to. The Master had hesitated to agree, but the opportunity had been too tempting for him to resist.

The Master had been even more hesitant to reveal anything about you to your host, fearing what he could do with the information. But after several attempts by your host to offer you food and drink that wasn’t safe for human consumption the Master had given in. Revealing to the man that you were human, and due to that fact, oh so fragile compared to the normal guests he hosted. He had taken it in stride, immediately apologizing and ensuring that anything he offered you after that point was safe for your human sensibilities.

You took the offered drink from his hand with a soft-spoken, “thank you, my Lord,” you refused to offend your host by not at least accepting the foreign drink. You weren’t required to take more than a sip if it ended up being too strong for you. You had only enough trust in your host to trust that it was not poisoned.

The taste of cinnamon, winterberries, and clover coated your tongue. The drink seemed to be non-alcoholic. No hint of the chemical taste that most alien alcohols consisted of. Still, you would be cautious and keep your consumption of anything not approved by the Master to one glass.

“It seems- unusual- of the Master to leave your side in a situation such as this. He is known for being incessantly possessive of you. Yet here you are, no so-called madman by your side at a party with hundreds of no longer sober men who would be eager to get their hands on a dream such as yourself.”

You flashed him a dangerous smile, “are you one of the men eager to get their hands on me.”

“I know very well that to touch you with poor intentions would be to invite my own death.”

He seemed to be amused by your answer as if he considered your unspoken threat to be humorous. At the very least you could admit that it lacked bite with the Master on the other side of the room. Surprisingly, you weren’t insulted by his humor at your potential helplessness. It seemed to come from a position of understanding that it was likely that some poor soul would fail to recognize that the man who’s arm you had entered on was a universally known killer.

You took another sip to avoid having to play polite and apologize to your host. The Master was shaking hands with the man across the room now. You only hoped that this was a sign that he would be returning to your side soon. You missed his warm presence, his quiet whispered explanations of all the wonders and annoyances of the universe.

Your view of the Master was blocked by a rowdy group of men who rushed past, almost knocking you over. Your host caught you in a low dip, hand dangerously close to the bare skin of your leg exposed by the long slit in the green velvet of your dress. The slit having risen to expose even more of your thigh as you kept your arm outstretched. Trying to keep from splashing your drink all over yourself. Slowly his hands wandered up your person, gently pulling you up away from the floor.

Guests nearby hollered obscenely at the sight.

“My apologies, I meant no unwelcome touches on your person.”

“That’s alright. I suspect that the tumble I would have taken would have been a worse fate than my currently flustered face.”

You took another sip to help hide your embarrassment at having been caught so off guard due to your fascination with the Master. Your face felt very warm. Too warm. You were starting to suspect that the drink in your glass that you had managed to save was in fact alcoholic. You assumed that it wasn’t too alcoholic, hopefully just enough to get you buzzed. To help you relax from your social awkwardness without the Master by your side to guide you in unfamiliar rituals and customs.

The surroundings began to fade and blur around you. Unsure if it was due to embarrassment or the daze of tipsiness fast approaching you made the -possible- mistake of finishing the rest of your drink.

You startled as hands wrapped themselves around your waist, as your host hurriedly excused himself from your side. The glass being pulled from your grip and placed on the tray of a passing server.

“Now what were you drinking, my darling one. Did you even know?”

You relaxed as you realized that it was the Master who had you in his grasp. Blinking you tried to think back to if you had recognized him approaching. How had he snuck up on you to the point of making you jump? You decided that you didn’t care. He was here now.

You smiled as you fell back into the Master, becoming almost dead weight against him. He held your weight with ease. You giggled, pleasantly tipsy and gleeful. Who knows what you had been talking to your host about before he left you in the Master’s care. Honestly, you had probably blacked out for a majority of the conversation since you couldn’t remember it at all. Hopefully, you hadn’t insulted him. The Master needed him, in a way, for his newest scheme to work. And if you had insulted him then it would have made you taking the risk to trust the drink he gave you pointless. It had been done solely not to insult your host!

“I’m not sure, but it tasted really good Master!”

It took a lot of effort but you managed to raise your hand to gently tap the side of the Master’s face, or well to try and tap his face. You only managed to reach his shoulder, settling for tapping against the soft velvety poofy shoulder of his shirt. It was somewhat strange that he still wore velvet like the body had when he stole it.

The Master had explained that this stolen body of his was still adjusting to the changes his mind forced upon it. Changes to make it into something suitable for a Time Lord. As such, he tended to get cold now. You saw it as a small blessing that gave you an excuse for more cuddles. You had missed cuddles when he had avoided you while dealing with being in a decayed body hanging onto life. Not that you would have cuddled him even if he wasn’t so against it. You were too afraid that you would hurt him to try and facilitate any physical contact after he had hissed in pain the one time you tried to hold his hand to comfort him. But that wasn’t something you had to worry about anymore! Now you could cuddle him to your heart’s content.

“Why didn’t we try to find this dress in black so that I could match you, Master? Then everyone would know that I am yours. I would have really liked looking like I matched you...”

“The green dress looks breathtaking on you, and it is far more festive. You insisted that you wanted to be at least a little bit festive.”

“But I could have matched you,” you whined like a child.

Slowly the Master guided you to begin walking towards the edges of the room. Were you leaving? If you were that meant that all of the Master’s attention could be on you. No one would be able to distract him away from your side again.

“I love you, Master. You do know that, right? Right?”

Looking down at you as you stumbled, even with his hands guiding you, he seemed to be pointedly ignoring your declaration. You pouted, he didn’t believe you! He sighed as you crossed your arms and started to dig your heels into the floor, he seemed disappointed. You refused to move until he acknowledged you again.

“Let’s get you back to the guest room our host had provided us for the night.”

You let him guide you after hearing his tone. You shrunk into yourself.

“I’m sorry, Master,” you despondently stated.

“Whatever are you sorry for?” He sounded genuinely confused.

Crying out, “I failed you,” all you wanted to do now was run away and hide yourself underneath the covers but you didn’t know where your room was.

"You've done nothing of the sort, my dear girl. It is our host that I am disappointed in- for providing you with something that does not suit your biology, your human metabolism. He should have known better."

He whipped tears from the corners of your eyes. Pulling you in close against his side once they were gone, leading you the rest of the way to the room by his side.

“Tomorrow morning our host is going to suffer just as much as he has made you suffer with the headache I am certain you are going to have in the morning. Consider that a promise, darling."

#the master x reader #ainley!master x reader

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jelly-pies · 4 years

Text

Places and Embraces (that you thought you left behind)

By @jelly-pies for @jaybaybay-01, for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: Teen (mentions of torture, electrocution, near drowning)

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter & Tony & Avengers Team

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, James Rhodes, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Pepper Potts

Summary:

"So now we know what we’re up against: a Hydra cell just launched a cyber attack on the Avengers,” Tony said, slowly drawing out each bitter word. He took a deep breath. “And they used Peter Parker to do it.”

Hydra brainwashes Peter and turns him against the Avengers. Tony jumps out of semi-retirement to get his kid back.

Word count: 12.2k (read on AO3 or click below!)

----- Chapter 1: The Compound -----

It was supposed to be a simple patrol.

“I just sent the address to Karen. Track their activity. Eyes open. Update me or Sam the second things get fishy…”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter’s voice groaned through the speakers, “I think I know what ‘reconnaissance’ means.”

“Might as well spell it out for you, because sometimes I think you don’t know what ‘stay back and wait for backup’ means.”

Peter huffed, and Tony imagined the twenty-year-old rolling his eyes in accompaniment. “That was one time,” he complained. “I mean, two." Another pause. “Wait. I mean…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony pressed a button to bring Peter’s view up on his computer. The kid was swinging through the city, crisscrossing between buildings at breakneck speed. Tony swept the footage to the side of his holo-screens before all the movement made his head spin. Damn, he was getting old.

“Hey, you wanna hear a thought I just had?” Peter said, swinging up and landing on an empty rooftop. “Iron Man’s retired, right? And Spider-Man’s official Avenger-Guardian of New York City.”

“Not a thing.”

“Totally a thing. So—listen, Mr. Stark—in the Avengers, do I rank higher than you now? ” Peter teased.

Tony rolled his eyes. “First off, I’m voluntarily relegated to tech support, I’m not retired.”

“You make a pretty decent Guy in the Chair, by the way. I mean, I still prefer Ned, but with summer break and all…”

“And second,” Tony interrupted, “Peter, this is serious. This is Hydra. I don’t want to hear about some solo-act hero found dead in the news tonight, you hear me?”

Peter chuckled softly. “You’re always gonna worry about me.”

Tony didn’t answer. But he caught his onscreen notification that Karen’s secondary tracker, connecting directly to the Avengers Compound, had been turned on. So the kid was taking precautions; Tony took that as a win.

“What we discussed,” Tony said softly. “Keep your distance. Web ‘em up.”

“Callback! That was a callback.” Finishing whatever tweaks he’d apparently made to the suit’s settings, Peter leapt off the building and continued swinging. “Talk to you later, old man.”

Tony smiled fondly. “Later, disaster child.”

He kept FRIDAY running the screens, ready to alert him to any trouble, but everything seemed normal on Peter’s patrol. And why wouldn’t it? It was supposed to be normal.

In a few minutes Morgan was banging on the garage door, calling her father for dinner. Tony left for the night.

It was hours later when Pepper shook him awake. Wide-eyed, with a deceptively calm voice, she relayed the emergency alert from FRIDAY. But by then it was too late.

It was supposed to be a quiet night. Instead, Peter Parker was missing.

-----

“Hydra,” May repeated in a hollow voice. “Hydra?”

“They had a suspected cell in NYC—sketchy, black market type medical lab.” Tony removed his sunglasses as he sank into May’s couch. His joints ached from the fatigue of the last few hours; the sunlight from the windows assaulted his baggy eyes. “It was supposed to be a routine check,” he exhaled, the same words he had been telling himself over and over and over. “Peter was just… keeping an eye out, waiting to confirm illegal activity.”

“Well, you got your confirmation.”

Tony looked up at that, an apology ready on his lips, but when he met May’s eyes they only looked sad.

“Is he—did they—Tony, do you think Peter’s—”

“No,” he replied strongly. “That’s one thing I can say for sure.” It’s the only thing he could say for sure. “They wouldn’t take the trouble, disabling his suit so expertly, if they were just going to…” He let the rest trail off unspoken. May dropped beside him on the couch.

Tony grit his teeth, pinched his eyes shut. He’d been up all night, and his chest ached even more than his head did. “Callback! That was a callback,” Peter’s blithe voice from yesterday echoed in his ears. This was another one, Tony supposed. A callback to Titan… to Beck… to, well, a couple more times after that, to be honest. The supposedly quiet semi-retirement years weren’t so quiet with another superhero in the family.

“So, we just… search,” May whispered beside him, the same pain, the same haunting memories evident on her frown lines. “And wait?”

Tony felt the full weight of his years pressing down on him, pushing as he fought to lift his head, and he gave a simple, helpless nod.

-----

It was supposedly a standard security update.

That’s what Tony told the guards, and anyone else with dropped jaws and shining eyes who wondered what Tony Stark, retired hero, was doing at the Avengers Compound on an ordinary Thursday. He indulged the gaping staff members with a signature Tony Stark grin as he made his way into the main building. But his tinted sunglasses stayed on his face the whole time.

“Alright, show me,” he greeted Sam shortly when he reached the entrance to the main control room. Sam nodded silently and led him inside.

The control room was the heart of Compound security; as spacious as the lab, only with more computers and holo-displays over the walls. With such an important building to protect, it was usually bustling with activity, but now there were only three people sitting around the main panel in the center of the room. All three—Bruce, Barnes, and Rhodey—were peering into holo-screens, surveying the damage from last night’s cyber attack.

Because the Compound had been attacked.

It was a quiet affair; the culprit had been in and out of the control room in a matter of minutes. They had dealt considerable damage—taken down servers, stolen terabytes of the Avengers’ encrypted files—but in terms of casualties, not a single guard had even been knocked out.

Like a ghost, Sam had told Tony that morning. A ghost who knew his way around the Compound. Who had the skills to hack into their system. Who was able to disable the Compound’s AI before it could sound the alarm.

A ghost who could crawl on walls.

Not a lot of people fit that description. And so Tony came, looked over the details of the attack, watched the security footage that Bruce brought up on his screen—the man in a black stealth suit, sticking up on a wall to avoid a roving guard. FRIDAY analyzed the footage too, but Tony didn’t need her verification that the masked attacker’s physique matched the known measurements of one Peter Parker. None of them really did.

“Shit,” was all Tony could mutter under his breath as the video ended. “Shit.”

“That’s all we caught; others cameras were disabled,” Bruce said. “As far as we know there was only one perpetrator. Don’t know where he headed after exiting the building, or his intentions with that data. But as to who that perpetrator was… Tony, I’m sorry. All the clues point in the same direction.”

Tony clenched his jaw. Of all the possible outcomes to his weeks-long search, all the scenarios both his dreams and his nightmares presented—he would have preferred almost anything but this. Anything but that dark figure that could only be one person, stealing around the very corridors Tony had just passed minutes ago. Anything but Peter Parker, so lost, and yet caught on camera so close to home: insult to injury waved right in their faces.

It was supposed to be a straightforward operation. Search for his kid, raid all the hideouts, wait for a ransom note as a very last resort. Instead, things had just turned much, much more complicated.

“Tones… at least he’s alive,” Rhodey said softly, when Tony remained silent.

“How?” Tony said through gritted teeth. “It’s barely been three weeks. How?”

Rhodey frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at him!” Tony waved at the screens where the security footage was still displayed. “Moves quickly, not under duress, they didn’t force him to do this. If they did, he would have done something, I know him, he—he would have left us some sort of clue.”

“And he came alone,” Rhodey said in realization. “They wouldn’t have sent him in alone.”

Tony nodded. “So how?”

As the meaning of Tony’s question sank in, everyone slowly turned to the one person in the room who had so far remained quiet.

“How?” Tony repeated to Bucky Barnes, his voice cracking at the single syllable.

The supersoldier met his gaze evenly. “There are ways. It's been less than a month, but… it’s possible.” Barnes shifted his feet and clenched the arms of his chair—not from any discomfort with him, Tony knew; he and Barnes had laboriously buried that hatchet years ago. But Bucky had always taken on a haunted demeanor lately whenever Peter was mentioned. The kid Wilson and Barnes had grown to train, to work with on missions, now captured by the very organization where the Winter Soldier had spent the majority of his life.

“There is some good news,” Bucky added after a pause. “The more they rushed the… process… the easier it will be to undo. If it’s really mind control… a good shock to his system, a strong reminder… there's hope, Tony. But the hard part is finding him.”

“Then let’s find him,” Sam declared simply, crossing his arms, and the room took a collective breath as if at a rallying cry. “At least this attack gives us a new lead. Tony? Rhodes mentioned something about a tracker in the stolen data’s encryption?”

“Yeah. It was, um.” Tony leaned back slowly in his chair. One of his frequent headaches started blooming, and he brought a thumb and middle finger up against his temples, using the same hand to push his sunglasses further up. “It’s embedded in all the encrypted folders. Dormant until they try to decrypt the files, then we’ll be able to trace it. Rhodey and I put it there; not even Peter knows.”

“So at least our top secret data’s safe for a while.”

“Already started a trace on the signal,” Rhodey said. “We get a hit, I’m there.”

“Good. Yeah, but look. We can’t keep this quiet much longer.” Sam glanced apologetically at Tony. “The sheer scale of this security breach… I’ll have to bring the rest of our people in on this.”

Tony sighed. “That’s fine, Cap. Appreciate the initial discretion. But there’s no point hiding it now that we know what we’re up against.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, linked his fingers together and unlinked them again. Fidgeting as his mind was fidgeting to string the sentence together. “A Hydra cell just launched a cyber attack on the Avengers,” Tony finally said, slowly drawing out each bitter word. “And they used Peter Parker to do it.”

-----

“Looks like I missed the party.” Rhodey looked over the setup in the otherwise abandoned warehouse—where computers, panels, and communication equipment had once stood, there was now nothing but a pile of smashed hardware. His AI sent a quick notification on his suit’s HUD: no one in the building but him. And yet from the trace they’d left behind, it was obvious this had been an important Hydra outpost until only minutes ago. Rhodey sighed. “We’ll be lucky to salvage any info from this scrap heap.”

He heard Tony curse over the comms. “FRIDAY lost the tracking signal. God. We were so close.”

Rhodey noticed one panel still blinking under a pile of scrap, and he walked over to inspect it. “Something must have tipped them off,” he continued as he shuffled through the scattered equipment. “A certain… Peter tingle, maybe?”

“Spider sense,” Tony mumbled. “He prefers to call it spider sense. And it doesn't work like—never mind. Point is, they're gone.”

“Stay there, Rhodey,” Sam’s voice instructed. “Buck and I are en route, we’ll handle the perimeter. They can’t have gotten too far.”

“Hydra? Yeah, yeah they could have,” Tony replied despondently.

“Tony…”

“Let him be, Sam,” Bucky interrupted understandingly.

“Well, since I got here first, this proves one thing, at least.” Rhodey decided to keep up the conversation and, hopefully, the team’s long-fragile morale as he leaned over the blinking panel. He paused for dramatic effect. “War Machine flies faster than Captain America.”

Even through the earpiece he could hear Tony’s snort. Rhodey smiled. “It’s conclusive, Wilson.”

“Nah, man, don’t do that to me,” Sam protested. “We came from the Compound. You were already downtown.”

“I keep suggesting a race.” Bucky’s voice. “And you two never race. Just get it over with…”

“I have wings, it’s not the same! Wind conditions are never…”

“Oh, wind conditions are the problem—”

As his team continued the good-natured bickering, something on the panel suddenly caught Rhodey’s eye. Pushing away a broken computer screen that covered half the panel’s surface, Rhodey saw that beside the blinking indicator LED, the panel contained a small glass case with multiple wires branching out.

And inside the case was a shining piece of black metal. A spider emblem.

“Falcon—” Rhodey didn’t get to finish.

The warning on his HUD registered at the same time as the kick. Rhodey keeled over in his heavy armor; when he turned around, his attacker was already crouched over the panel and removing the spider emblem from its case.

He wore a black stealth suit and mask. He was lanky, but apparently strong enough to knock the War Machine to his knees. He moved swiftly, too, tearing the spider emblem off, storing it somewhere in his suit, and aiming his wrists towards Rhodey all in a matter of seconds. Rhodey put an arm up in defense; the webs shot out and wrapped around it.

“Shit.” Rhodey scrambled up. “Peter!”

He barely registered his teammates’ voices through the comms, echoing the name in relief, in shock, in fear. Rhodey shot an electroshock bullet but the masked man dodged expertly, leaping up and latching onto the rafters.

“Hey, gray Iron Man!” the unmistakable voice of Peter Parker called down. “Don’t have any glasses in that fancy suit?”

“Peter Parker! Peter, stop!” Rhodey tore the webs off his armor and took off, flying after Peter, shooting three more shock bullets in succession. All three bounced off the metal rafters harmlessly. Peter darted around pillars, bounced off the walls, evaded Rhodey at every turn until he was mere feet away from the exit. “Spider-Man!” Rhodey yelled in frustration.

Peter turned. That split second was all Rhodey needed; he crashed into the kid and both of them tumbled to the floor. Rhodey used his armor to break the fall, and then he rolled Peter off of him until they were lying side by side, coughing and groaning. “Spider-Man?” Rhodey tried, getting up on his elbows. “Kid?”

Peter only moaned weakly.

“Sorry I have to do this.” Rhodey loaded another electroshock bullet. “But we have to get you back to May. And Tony—”

For the second time that day, Rhodey saw the hit coming too late. Peter flipped upward, connecting his knee with Rhodey’s chin, and kicked the older man away with his other foot. As Rhodey fell backwards, Peter landed squarely on his feet and shot a web towards the door.

By the time Rhodey recovered, Peter was gone.

----- Chapter 2: The Lake House -----

The lake house looked beautiful in the late afternoon light. Golden rays danced off the surface of the water, painting its green surroundings with a warm glow. Calm, idyllic.

None of that mood was reflected in its inhabitants, however. The woman’s shoulders sagged as she loaded a bag in the trunk of their car. Then a little girl, maybe eight or nine years old, followed the woman out of the house, holding a red and blue stuffed toy tightly to her chest as she got in the back seat.

Worst of all was the man. He limped slightly as he walked, shuffling forward like he wasn’t even trying to keep his head up. The sunlight glinted on his prosthetic arm and on the glasses hanging on the front of his shirt, but it seemed only shadows reached his face. He stopped by the trunk where the woman was still standing and she said something to him. After a few moments he kissed her cheek, then got in the front seat. The woman went around the driver’s side. And they were off.

Just in time, Peter Parker thought, lowering the binoculars. Now he could proceed with the mission.

-----

"Peter Parker. Peter Parker.” He clung to the words like a lifeline.

"Still repeating that shit?” A kick to the back.

Peter curled tighter around himself. “P-Peter… my name—Peter Par… Parker…”

“Ah, let him,” another voice replied. “He can keep the damn name. He’ll forget everything else, anyway.”

“We can’t risk a trigger!”

“Peter Par—” A sharper kick. He whimpered.

“We can’t lose time!” the second voice hissed. “Now get that miserable piece of shit back on the table.”

Arms reached out. Hands grabbed at him.

And Peter woke up. Everything rushed in at the same time, like it always did—the sound of crickets—the sliver of moonlight through the trees—the sweat that stuck his stealth suit to his back—and Peter took off his mask and buried his head in his hands. After several seconds, when he could look up again without feeling like the entire world was charging at his senses, Peter put the mask back on and began to take stock of his surroundings.

He must have overdone the nap. Damn nightmares. He’d only started getting them that day at the warehouse, and now they were growing worse.

No matter—it was still early evening. He couldn’t strike until the family was at least several hours away, in case he accidentally tripped their alarm, so he’d decided on the nap. But now he really needed to move.

Peter crept around the edges of the lake, always keeping behind the treeline. He couldn’t screw this up, too, not after his last mistake, forgetting the spider-shaped core in the rush to evacuate the old base. This was Peter’s chance to make it up to his team.

Besides—he didn’t think he could take another round of punishment.

He reached the edge of the paved driveway without incident. On this side he was closest to his target, the lake house’s garage; he could see it about a hundred yards away. But the trees ended here, so Peter moved more carefully, keeping in mind his team’s stern warnings about the AI that guarded this property.

It was lucky, though, that the AI was all Peter had to deal with tonight. Unlike his first job at the Compound, there would be no humans for him to have to sneak around. It had been a point of contention back when he first received this assignment; Peter’s team had insisted he simply take out the lake house’s residents, but Peter pushed back, suggesting he attacked when no one was home. He didn’t know why he felt so strongly about it—strongly enough to risk punishment by challenging orders. Satellite scans had shown there was no time in the family’s regular schedule when the house would be empty for several hours, so at first it had looked like Peter had no way to make his plan work.

Until today’s date had fallen from his lips. Peter had been so confident: the family would not be here tonight. They would be driving to the city, to Queens. Peter had no idea how he’d known any of that. He still didn't. But something about this date had just felt right, and after a quick check, his commander had allowed the slight change in schedule. And now here Peter was, sneaking up on an empty house. On the night of August tenth.

Peter reached the garage at last. He flattened himself against the wall, waiting, and when he heard nothing except the chirping crickets, he broke the lock on the door with his bare hands and stepped inside.

Hacking into the computers was easy. Soon Peter had started the transfer to a hard drive concealed in his suit, and he chanced a closer look around the room while the files loaded.

The place smelled like motor oil. There were a couple of sleek metal cylinders against the wall that could hold a grown human each, but besides that it was all worn benches, scattered electronic components, and half-finished projects. Well lived in, comfortable, familiar.

Peter startled. Familiar? He’d never been here before.

A small robot like a claw—no, two of them—three—stirred to life in a corner, whirring and snapping their claws at Peter. His senses gave him no trouble over the little guys, though, and Peter dismissed them as harmless. Besides, he doubted they could set off any kind of alarm at him. Then looking up from the robots, Peter’s eye caught on a plushie lying on a shelf—probably another of the girl’s. This one was red and gold, and Peter immediately recognized it as an Iron Man toy.

Huh. Iron Man. Peter’s team had told him this garage was another Avengers-related target, like the Compound, but they hadn’t specified much beyond that. Was Peter hacking into Iron Man’s systems right now? He smirked. That was pretty cool.

Hey, you wanna hear a thought I just had? Iron Man’s retired, right?

Peter blinked, and involuntarily took a step back. What was that? He couldn’t be having nightmares while he’s awake… could he? Crap, this place was messing with his senses. Peter disconnected his hard drive the second the transfer was complete, and turned to go.

Peter froze at the door. He could have sworn he’d taken out that lock just minutes ago. But now, even applying his full strength at the handle, the door wouldn’t budge.

Then a hissing sound came from the other side of the room. Peter spun back around, fists clenched in preparation for a fight. One of the metal cylinders slid open, an Iron Man suit glided out—but it was a female voice that spoke from it.

“Good evening, Peter,” it—she—said softly. “Leaving so soon?”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes darted around the room—no escape except the door—he could rip it from its hinges if that’s what it came to, but he needed a distraction. Peter decided to entertain the suit for a while. “You’re the AI security guard,” he deduced. “Though not the same one I disabled back at the Compound. Driving this suit—you’re much more complex, aren’t you?”

“That’s correct,” the suit replied. “Compound security tried to keep you out. But that’s not my objective tonight… Spider-Man."

Spider-Man. Peter clenched his fists a little tighter and backed up against the wall. Spider-Man. War Machine had called him that, too, back at the warehouse. But it didn’t make sense.

Peter knew Spider-Man. He knew the Avengers, Spider-Man was one of them, and they were the target, they were his team’s—they were his target. What kind of game was this robot lady playing?

Robot lady powered down the suit and landed a few feet away from Peter. “Boss was right about the reaction that might elicit.”

"Boss," Peter muttered. He found a headache starting to grow at the AI's words, and his heart pumped faster, but curiosity won out. "Your boss, you mean Iron Man?"

"Tony Stark, yes. You could call us a team." The suit stepped closer, one arm outstretched. "You were part of that team, Peter."

Team. His team— "Stop right there," Peter hissed, thrusting a hand out. "Alright, look. You—you can unlock the door, right now, or I can bust it open. I bet your boss wouldn’t like that, huh? Your call, FRIDAY."

The suit lowered its arms. "You remember my name."

Remember my—

"No!" Peter growled. His headache was raging now. The ambient cricket noises from outside pounded like drums in his ears. "No—"

Remember my name.

"Peter Parker. Peter Parker.” He clung to the words like a lifeline.

They tried to wring it from him, they really did. Tried to beat, shock, drown it out. But Peter held tight.

He remembered his name.

“—member your name. What else do you remember, Peter?” the AI prompted in that same gentle voice that didn’t make sense.

Peter brought fists up to press against his temples. Not another nightmare, not a waking one, not now. He took a breath. “Okay.” Peter swallowed. “Okay, this was your call.” He leapt up. And tackled the suit to the ground.

“Word to the wise, Pete: when fighting a super-powered robot, go for the core.”

Arc reactor technology, in the center of the chest, powered all Iron Man suits. Peter went for it.

He smashed the metal inward—surely that would cause some kind of damage—and FRIDAY grabbed at his arm. Peter felt the sting of the needle that penetrated even his stealth suit.

“That’s only to get you to sleep. Peter, calm—”

Peter struck the head. Arm. Chest again, in quick succession. Then the original hit to the reactor must have taken its effect, because the suit loosened its grip, and Peter broke free.

“Use your strengths, kid. The bot’s intuition is artificial, yours isn’t.”

We webbed FRIDAY down before she could recover. Then Peter lunged at the door. It took a few good kicks for it to fly free of its hinges, but then Peter was free, leaping out into the night air.

FRIDAY caught him mid-jump.

“We stocked your web-removing formula—”

Another punch to the chestpiece. As FRIDAY carried him upwards, Peter curled into a ball and fell, rolling on the grass. FRIDAY turned back and hovered over him.

“Peter,” she pleaded. “The drug will take full effect in seconds. Please. Don’t get yourself hurt.”

Peter shot another web. Whatever FRIDAY said about web removers, it would surely take some time with all that sticky material criss crossing its arms and legs. He sprinted toward the lake.

“Water. Last resort. It’s all electronics, after all—”

“Didn’t you make your own suits waterproof?” Peter said.

Peter halted.

He was at the edge of the pier, staring at the dark waters below. A wide-eyed, panting, shaking reflection stared back.

“Yeah, well, nothing’s indestructible, so listen up. If you’re going on this mission, I need you going prepared—”

That voice. His voice. His own heartbeat, drumming in his ears. That voice. Repulsors starting up behind him. That voice.

For the first time that night, Peter closed his eyes, and he didn’t run from the nightmares, from his thoughts.

He listened.

“I’m listening! I’m listening.” Peter grinned, perched on the edge of the table. “Need the good robot’s expertise if I’m gonna go fight evil robots.”

An orange hit his head. Peter laughed.

“Don’t call me a robot.” That voice.

“Peter?” That voice.

Peter turned. The suit stood at the other end of the pier, webs hanging from its arms and legs like white strings waving in the breeze. The suit’s glowing eyes stared at him intently, but when it spoke it wasn’t with the AI’s female voice anymore. It was with the voice from Peter’s head.

“Pete—” a man’s voice choked out. “I’m sorry, I should have—seen FRIDAY’s call sooner, I—damn it.” The suit began to walk toward him. Peter tensed as it got closer, and the man must have noticed, because he stopped a few feet away and put his hands up. “Peter.” He sounded tired. He sounded gentle. “You—when you were fighting, FRIDAY injected you with something, it’s just to get you to sleep, but your metabolism’s fighting it. I—I know you don’t remember me. You don’t know me, but—I’m not going to let you go. So, could you stop fighting, ‘cause you’re only going to get hurt.” The suit lowered its arms. “Please.”

Peter didn’t move. He just stood and stared. For a long, long time.

Then he stepped forward. Another step, and—

“Stop fighting. You’re only going to get hurt.”

They wrestled him onto the table. Peter fought. Peter screamed.

He fell into the suit’s arms.

“Peter?” a metal hand patted his back tentatively. “Buddy?”

Peter screamed, and the current only coursed more painfully through his brain. Peter screamed, and no one answered.

“T-Tony?”

“Peter,” the man answered. Even through the suit’s speakers Peter heard the man’s breath catch in his throat. “God, are you—”

“Tony Stark?” Peter frowned. He pulled himself back on his feet, the suit’s arms still around his. “Tony Stark. Iron Man?”

“I—yes,” Tony said haltingly. “Do you re—”

Peter rushed forward and caught the suit in an embrace.

Iron Man.

Iron Man, the voice in his head. The metal arms wrapped loosely, hesitantly around him. Peter, on the other hand, gripped the back of the suit with all his might.

The voice in his head, nightmares. Nightmares, pain. Peter swayed towards the edge of the pier, taking the suit with him.

Pain, punishment. Complete missions, avoid punishment. Peter’s thoughts clicked together, not neatly, like a solved puzzle, but harshly, like a lock on a cell door.

Iron Man, Avenger.

The Avengers, his mission.

Iron Man, his target.

Peter leapt off the side of the pier, taking the suit with him.

“Water. Last resort—”

The suit was already damaged. The arc reactor caved inwards. The suit let go of Peter in the water.

And Peter sank, down, down. It was so cold.

“FRIDAY injected you with something, it’s just to get you to sleep—”

The suit sank with him, its lights flickering out. Then Peter saw other lights shine above the water. He smiled. Lights were pretty.

“You don’t know me, but—I’m not going to let you go.”

Peter felt the splash rather than heard it. A metal hand found his, and Peter was pulled up.

Peter gasped as he broke the surface, sucking in air. A suit was carrying him, and it landed on the shore and lay him on the ground. Another suit, a purple suit. He’d barely registered that fact when Peter’s eyelids closed of their own accord. He sank into the darkness.

“Peter?” came a woman’s voice.

Zap, came the electricity.

And Peter slept.

-----

Peter woke up in the dark. He was lying on his back on a hard surface. The remains of a headache was still throbbing between his ears, when the lights suddenly came on, and Peter recoiled painfully.

“So you’re finally awake.” Peter turned his head slowly towards the source of the voice. He forced his eyes to pry open.

His commander stood over him, glowering. Another two members of Hydra—of Peter’s team—stood behind the man.

Peter couldn’t explain the sinking despair in his stomach at the sight of them, where there should have been relief instead.

“Welcome back, Peter Parker.” The commander leaned over the table, over Peter. “Mission report."

-----

It was cold, so cold.

Peter lay stripped to his shirt and boxers, but the cold of the lake still seeped into his skin. And he had to give his report that way, arms stiff at his sides inside their metal restraints, his voice still shivering.

He told them about the operation. He told them about the hard drive, and the data, and the mission’s success—

The commander scowled at that word. Peter shuddered and moved on.

He told them about the AI. And about the suit, and Tony Stark remotely taking control. He told them how he wrecked one Iron Man suit and got rescued by another. And then he stopped, shut his mouth like a good soldier, shivering.

It was so cold.

“Both suits were remotely operated,” the commander spoke after a long silence. “We had to destroy the second by electrocution. When we rescued you. By jet.”

Peter braced himself before asking, “What about the house?”

“And why is that your primary concern?” the man snarled. “Good old Captain America arrived just as we loaded you on the jet, so the damn house is safe, soldier. We are not!”

Peter swallowed. “I’m sorry, sir.”

A fist slammed on the table. “Do you have any idea! Any… your missions call for stealth.” A hand grabbed Peter’s chin, forcing his face to the side. “I thought that was made clear. Ten times. A hundred times. That is why we send you.”

Peter swallowed again, but this time it caught in his throat. “Yes, sir,” he croaked meekly.

“You have one assignment left. Until then, think on how to avoid your ever-increasing mistakes.”

The hand released him, and Peter stretched his jaw. The men had just reached the door when Peter remembered to call out, “Wait!”

His commander walked straight out. The other two soldiers turned back instead. “What?” one asked sharply.

“I—I can’t…” Peter struggled to get out the words. “I can’t thermoregulate.”

“What?”

“Thermoregulate,” Peter rasped. “I—I don’t know why. But I’m still so… cold… please can I—” Peter tried to lift his arms. The restraints didn’t budge.

“What—what the hell? You think this was just another mistake? Like leaving the spider core microchip behind at the last base?” His teammate reached for the door. “You fucked up, kid, so you stay where you are. And be thankful we aren’t sending your brain back through the fryer. Yet.” And the door slammed shut.

-----

Peter lay shivering on the table, hour after hour. No amount of shaking made the heat flow through his body, but the room was significantly less cold than the lake, and Peter knew he wouldn’t die. Just lie shivering, hour after hour.

He knew he couldn’t bring his own temperature up, except ever so slowly. He knew that. He couldn’t explain how he knew that, though.

He couldn’t explain how he knew about a lot of things.

Like Spider-Man. And FRIDAY. And Tony Stark.

And the fact that, as he shivered in the cold, Peter’s thoughts drifted to an image of a couch in front of a fireplace. Of a thick blanket, and a woman with gentle hands and a cheeky smile that draped it over his shoulders. And the warmth of her arms when he sunk into them.

Peter held on to that thought even if he didn’t understand it; he needed all the warmth he could get. It was going to be a long night.

-----

Many miles away, another group of people were having a long night of their own.

May Parker sat glued to the holo-screens of the Compound control room. The others had drifted in and out throughout the night, sometimes keeping her company, sometimes taking care of other important matters. Sam and Rhodes had just returned from the lake house a couple of hours ago. After a while, Tony and Pepper excused themselves to the Compound living quarters, to tuck Morgan in for the night. Dr. Banner, May knew, was still awake in the lab, with Barnes working closely beside him.

It was nice knowing how the team pulled together after the night’s distressing events. But that comfort was dampened in May’s mind, knowing the contrast to Peter’s current situation. Her kid was alone, he was cold, and his spider DNA meant he couldn’t thermoregulate as well as other humans. May knew every shaky breath that her nephew took.

Because displayed on the screens in front of her, were Peter’s vitals.

“Hey,” a voice greeted, and Tony walked in, two mugs and a plate in hand. “Care for company?”

May nodded at him. “Only if you brought coffee.”

Tony handed her one of the mugs, and they sat in silence for a while, monitoring the screens.

After a few minutes Tony offered, “You can turn in, you know. I’ll take a shift.”

May clenched his jaw. “Not tonight.”

Tony nodded understandingly and took a sip from his own mug. “Pep and Morgan are sleeping, but I couldn’t. I kept thinking… anything else we could have done tonight…”

May shook her head. “You and Pepper piloted the suits as soon as you could, Tony. And this microchip, I'm thankful you had the foresight pre-programming FRIDAY to inject it in Peter’s arm along with the sedative.”

“It could be giving us more than this. I’ve been trying the whole night, May, but the tracking signal’s still being deflected. These vitals are all we can get for now.”

“More than we had yesterday. Tonight’s not a night for beating yourself up.”

Tony sighed. “I just need to clear my head.” He traced the line on the screen, tracking the slow rise and fall of Peter's heart rate. “And I don’t want him to be alone.”

May didn’t answer, only gazed at the monitored vitals—such impersonal graphs, and yet the only connection they had to Peter now.

After another long pause, Tony held out the plate he’d brought in, and May noticed for the first time what it contained: a few slices of cake, the remains of their interrupted party in May’s apartment earlier this evening.

Tony handed her a fork. “Happy birthday, Peter,” he said sadly.

May sighed as she reached for the plate. “Happy birthday, Peter.”

----- Chapter 3: The Tower -----

There are moments in life that change a person, even if they don’t realize it until later. That night at the lake house changed Peter Parker. He knew, even before they marched him into the debriefing room for further questioning, he was no longer fit for his team.

Peter had slept fitfully that cold night, but in what snatches of sleep he had been able to grab, he dreamt of that woman by the fireplace. Peter woke up fully convinced he had been dreaming of his mother.

And when he couldn’t sleep, he thought of the man from his flashbacks—nightmares—whatever they were. The man who gave him advice on how to fight killer robots. Who sent a suit to save him from drowning. Tony Stark, the Avenger, the enemy.

That was all Peter knew for sure: the enemy, the mission, the team, Hydra. Nothing beyond that. For the first time, Peter asked himself why.

Why he had nightmares of being held down on a table, electricity coursing through his body, screaming. Why those thoughts always left him shaking, when the echoes of Tony Stark’s voice in his head did not. Why the War Machine at the warehouse, and the suits at the lake, took more care with him than his team ever did.

Peter must have had a life before this. Before missions. Before electrocution sessions and cold nights lying alone. Before Hydra.

And that night, Peter knew he had to leave.

-----

He held on to that resolve all throughout the questioning.

"Last night you said the suit stopped you at the pier. But you had a considerable head start. Why were you not able to get away?"

"The sedative had kicked in by then, sir," Peter lied.

"But you told us the drug's effects only started to take hold as you were drowning."

"I misremembered, sir," Peter lied.

On and on it went. Peter dodged, and maneuvered, and hoped it was enough to keep him from punishment. Or worse, from being reprogrammed, and having to start clawing his way back up all over again.

Just when he thought the interview was over, Peter's commander took a small black spider emblem out of his pocket. "Do you know what this is, Parker?"

"A hidden microchip, sir." Peter gulped. "I made the mistake of forgetting it at the old base. I was punished."

"This microchip came from a suit," the other man continued, circling around Peter. "A very expensive piece of Stark tech. With very impressive capabilities. You are helping us rebuild the software to control it, and many others like it. That was your mission."

"Yes, sir."

Peter caught the exact moment when his commander's eyes darkened. "You lost sight of your mission, soldier."

Without warning, the man slapped the metal spider on the back of Peter's head. The legs extended, wrapping around the sides of Peter's face, and he shouted in pain as a burst of electricity shot out of them. Peter fell to his knees.

His commander continued circling him like a hawk, unbothered. "You need to be reminded."

-----

Bucky and Bruce ran into the control room where Tony was waiting. The holo-screens with Peter's vitals displayed irregular peaks in his brain activity, the implications of which the three men knew very well.

"How long has this—"

"Ten minutes," Tony answered quickly. "Not stopping."

Bucky stared closely at the graphs. "Doesn't seem to be a high voltage."

"Bursts of current, too, not steady," Bruce added.

Tony braced himself to ask. "So this isn't reprogramming?"

"It looks closer to—to torture, Tony," Bruce replied.

Suddenly Bucky turned to the other two men. "That's good," he realized. Tony stared daggers at him, and Bucky put up a hand. "Hydra doesn't double back. They wouldn't be doing this if they could simply wipe Peter's memories instead."

"So they torture him for what? For punishment?"

"It's severely affecting his brain, Tony," Bruce said in a neutral voice, eyes still locked on the screens. "There are other ways to punish a guy. No, this is a calculated move."

"When brainwashing doesn't work… There are other ways to make people do what you want," Bucky said darkly.

"That's the second time you said—brainwashing not working, not wiping Peter's memories," Tony said, deep in thought. His head snapped up when he realized the answer to his own question. "Because it takes too long."

"I think so, too. This—this is a desperate move," Bruce said. "They still need Peter, but they also need to strike soon. I mean, we're closing in on them from all angles, Rhodey's still hounding their decryption signal, Sam got some good shots at their jet last night."

"My best guess?" Bucky pointed at the screens. "Mind control. The brute kind."

Tony clenched his shaking fists. “How do we combat the brute kind?”

Bucky took a breath before responding, “Head-on.”

The three men fell quiet, watching each other, watching the screens. Tony could almost imagine Peter’s screams with every peak of the tracker. And yet in this room it was eerily, almost completely silent.

Finally it ended. Peter’s neural readings returned to normal. Everyone took a collective breath.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Where do we start? We have a good guess where they’re hitting next.”

Tony exhaled as he stood up. His mind was in a whirlwind, save one grounding point, one last hope, and he let that thought steady his feet. “Keep an eye on the kid for me. There’s something I need to do.” And he strode out of the room.

-----

“Keep an eye on the kid.” The quinjet door shut, and they were off.

Peter sat clad in his usual black suit and mask. Beside him, three of his teammates checked and double-checked everyone’s parachutes. For the first time on a mission, Peter was not going alone. Because for the first time on a mission, Hydra no longer trusted him.

They had good reason not to.

The metal spider was still attached to the back of Peter’s head, under his mask. How his teammates reacted to the new implement was fairly revealing. Gone were the intimidation tactics, the threats, the constant reminders of his past mistakes. Now the Hydra agents ordered him about without even pretending he was anything more than an expendable asset, with no choice but to obey.

They had good reason to.

“Two minutes from the drop zone. Get up, kid.”

And it was “kid” now, not “soldier.” Peter delayed one second before standing up.

Zap.

The electrocution from the spider emblem wasn’t strong enough to incapacitate him, but hell did it hurt. Peter stumbled and barely caught himself from falling to his knees.

“Fuck, commander,” the agent spoke into his comms. “It was only a second.”

“Just a little reminder.” Peter heard the voice in his earpiece, too. “But he won’t be needing much reminders once the mission starts. Will you, Parker?”

“No, sir.” Peter grit his teeth.

Zap, came a second shock. Then a third, fourth, fifth, in quick succession.

“A primitive solution. But fast. And effective.”

Peter was on his hands and knees in the interrogation room, the commander circling him like he was prey.

“You will not disobey. You will not even think of disobeying.”

Another wave, stronger this time, and Peter screamed on the floor.

“What is best is you comply.”

Peter shut his eyes at the memory, at the pain. “I’m fully compliant, sir.”

Ten seconds into the drop zone, they jumped. Peter gaped at the twinkling lights of New York City only for a moment, then focused his mind on the task at hand. Namely, not dying. Using his senses, Peter adjusted his course and that of the three Hydra agents with him, avoiding the overhead sensors that only he could detect. Soon they all landed smoothly on the rooftop of their target skyscraper.

“First phase, good,” his teamma— one of the Hydra agents, said. “Now the security, kid.”

Peter had a hunch for this, knowing just where to strike, what codes to input into his tablet to disable security. Almost as if he were intimately acquainted with the source program itself. It was how he had snuck into the Compound on that first mission. However—Peter stared at the red alert on the tablet screen—this wasn’t the same as the Compound.

“What the hell?” another agent looked at the error message on the tablet over Peter’s shoulder.

“It—I—this must be the other program,” Peter stammered. “The one from the lake house. I can’t get in.” Peter braced himself, but no electric shock came from the spider-metal on the back of his head. So the commander knew he wasn’t lying.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the on-screen alert disappeared. “Security disabled” flashed on Peter’s tablet.

“There you go. What did you do?”

“I—nothing,” Peter answered truthfully. Something pricked at his senses. A feeling of being watched, and not just by the man controlling an electrocution machine on Peter’s head. Strangely enough, that feeling of someone else watching him gave Peter a sense of assurance more than danger. But he fought those thoughts down and took a deep breath. “Alright, we’re clear. Let’s go.”

The cold night air blew around them as they made their way across the rooftop. Peter typed in some more commands, unlocked a door, and in no time at all, the four Hydra agents had breached the Avengers Tower.

-----

Something was wrong.

Peter led the team through dark halls, weapons at the ready, but they encountered no one in the whole building. Just like they’d encountered no one on the ride down the elevator. And saw no one in any of the multiple rooms they passed.

Something was wrong.

“I see your heart rate picking up,” the commander’s voice said in Peter’s ear. “Even from my comfortable seat, this is all starting to look uncomfortably like a trap. If you had any part in this…”

Peter didn’t. He could swear he didn’t, but he kept silent, continuing to lead the agents down the hall, and bracing for another burst of pain to his skull. The commander never set off the device, though, and Peter breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Until they reached the building’s main control room. Peter unlocked the door. One man stayed posted outside as a lookout, and Peter and the two other agents entered.

At first the room seemed like the rest of the Tower, empty, dark. But that was just the problem. Too empty. Too dark.

“Something’s wrong,” barely registered in Peter’s mind, when the attack began.

The bullets came from out of nowhere, shooting straight for the three other Hydra agents, and electro-shocking them to unconsciousness. The lookout recovered quickly and made to enter the room, when the door automatically shut in his face. Then, for good measure, another round of shocking bullets was fired at the two agents lying on the ground. And Peter was left alone with their attacker.

At first, not knowing where the firing came from, Peter merely braced himself in the middle of the room, ready to dodge the bullets when they came. But nothing ever shot at him. Now with the other agents knocked out in the dark, Peter faced the unknown enemy, relying only on his senses. He had just located the new figure in the room, and readied his web shooters to strike back, when the lights suddenly turned on.

A high-pitched tone came on with the lights. Peter crouched on the ground, arms up to protect both his eyes and ears against the sudden onslaught. He felt all his senses torn apart, compromised. And then the unknown figure stepped in front of him.

The high-pitched sound stopped. A faint whine remained in Peter’s ears, but through it he could just make out a man’s voice speaking to him. That man’s voice. The one from the lake house, from his dreams.

“Peter?” Tony Stark repeated, holding out a metal hand.

Peter shoved it away and leapt back, getting shakily to his feet. Holding out both arms in a defensive position, Peter caught his breath, and for the first time took a good look at his assailant.

It looked like the first red suit, the one from the garage. The one Peter had destroyed in the lake. But this one was undamaged, and still holding out a hand to Peter in what was probably supposed to be a calming gesture.

“Hey, FRIDAY,” Peter panted, his chest still pounding. “New suit?”

“I have a lot of suits. One of them saved you, if you recall, right after you ditched the first one in the lake.”

Peter grit his teeth. Of course he knew one of the suits—of course he knew Tony Stark, and the woman driving the purple suit, had saved his life that night. But things had changed. He couldn’t afford to think about it, to think about that fateful night at all, not with an electric killing machine stuck to the back of his brain.

“Look, man. I’m getting what I came for, and you can’t stop me any more than you could last time. Just throw in the towel and walk away now.” Peter’s voice shook.

“Tonight’s not gonna be like last time,” Tony replied determinedly.

“Walk. Away. Or I’ll wreck this suit, too, just like last time—”

“Tonight’s not gonna be like last time,” Tony repeated louder. And then he did something Peter never expected.

The suit retracted. Nano-tech particles moved in waves, draining like water in a sink towards the reactor casing in the middle of the suit. Until the only thing left standing in front of Peter, was not a metal suit, but a person.

“Peter Parker,” Tony said, taking a step forward, “tonight we’re taking you home.”

-----

Peter froze. The night he spent dreaming of the woman by the fireplace raced through his mind. Yet now, being offered the exact thing he had wanted then, Peter had no idea how to respond.

“Take me home? I want to, but there’s a killing machine on my head.”

“I want to, but there’s a Hydra jet nearby that could attack any second.”

“I want to, if I knew where home was.”

“I want to.”

“I want to, but...”

Peter’s lips seemed to move of their own accord. “I can’t,” he said in a small voice.

Tony’s eyes widened at Peter’s change in demeanor. He took another step closer. “You… okay. Okay, you know that high tone earlier? Messed up your comms. Hydra can’t hear us, at least for the moment. Peter… let me help.”

Peter ripped off his mask, and threw it to the floor between him and Tony. His hands shook, his lips shook. “He’ll kill me!” He turned his head, showing off the metal device stuck to the back. “If either of us tries anything, he’ll kill me.”

Tony took one good look at it and cursed. Then he stopped, as if listening to something on his own comms.

“I’m supposed to kill you,” Peter said. Tony’s head snapped up. “Those were my orders, if—if anyone interfered. And he can make me do it, too—”

“Kid—”

“He can make me do anything, I know, he tested it out—”

“Calm down, we’ll think of something—”

“I take you down, or my damn brain is toast!”

“You’re not dying!” Tony clenched his jaw, hand still outstretched towards Peter. “Not tonight, not on my watch.”

Peter shook his head. The familiar ache was starting to build again, the humming between his ears. “I don’t feel so good,” he choked out.

Tony froze. And then the older man must have said something in response—his lips were moving—but suddenly all Peter could hear, all he could focus on, was the commander’s voice in his ear.

“You know what to do, soldier.” The threat in his tone was clear.

“I’m sorry,” Peter rasped. And then he lunged forward.

-----

It was never a fair fight.

Tony summoned his suit back, but not before Peter got a couple of good hits in him. Knocked down on the floor, he saw his own electroshock bullets hurtling towards him from Peter’s gun, and Tony rolled away with milliseconds to spare. God, retirement had taken its toll.

“Peter…” Tony groaned, getting up on his knees. He was met with a kick to the chest.

“Tony?” Bruce’s voice echoed in his helmet. “Tony, you need to get close enough to—”

“Yeah, I know, I’m trying!” He rolled again, and the chair Peter swung crashed into the floor where Tony had just been.

It was never a fair fight.

Tony flew up and around Peter. “FRIDAY, lights out!” As darkness fell, Tony approached from behind, his targeting locked on to the device behind Peter’s head, it was within his sight—

Peter turned and fired a shocking bullet straight at him.

As Tony fell to the floor, shaking with the electricity, he realized just how close Peter had come to killing him, if he had really tried. But the electroshock bullets—a few kicks—a damn chair—Peter wasn’t really trying, was he?

It was never a fair fight.

“No,” Tony heard Peter say, as the kid stepped closer to his prone form. “No, look, Stark’s out, I swear that shock was strong enough, I—”

And then it happened. Through his HUD, Tony saw the sudden heat signature that exploded behind Peter’s head, the electronic signal, the way the kid’s body convulsed. Peter fell to his knees.

“No!” Tony screamed. Peter turned, his eyes met Tony’s—and for the first time Tony saw all the fear behind them.

It was never a fair fight. Tony was battling Peter. But Peter had to fight both the Avenger and Hydra.

Slowly, Tony got up. And he did the only thing he could think of to help his kid. He leaped forward and tackled Peter to the ground.

Peter rolled with the hit, pinning Tony under him—he’d really forgotten how strong the kid was—and Peter sent punch after punch flying. Never to the head, though—even Tony realized that. But as their fight continued, as Tony got pummeled, the shocks to Peter’s brain stopped. And for now that was all Tony wanted.

“Sam, how’s it going on your end?” Tony hissed.

“Almost there, keep him busy!” Sam replied through the comms.

Another solid hit to his suit. “Sure as hell trying to!” Needing a break, Tony turned his thrusters on and slid off from under Peter, hovering some way above the floor. Tony heard the whoosh of web shooters and he narrowly dodged Peter slamming into him mid-air.

“Hey! Flying is cheating!” Peter hollered as he passed. Tony recognized it for what it was, though—a call to keep Tony aware of Peter’s location in the darkness.

Tony wondered, not for the first time since that night at the lake house, how much of the old Peter was starting to come back. And whether it would take sooner than anticipated to restore the rest of him.

Assuming they could Peter through the night at all.

Keep the kid safe now, worry about the memories later, Tony chided himself. He turned the lights of his suit on, a beacon for Peter to spot. “Just trying to keep the fight fair!” Tony called out, and he braced himself for impact.

-----

“Rhodey! Your 3 o’clock—”

“I see him,” Rhodey said through the comms. “Coming in hot.”

Sam locked the quinjet on his targeting system and increased speed. “Approaching from the back end.”

“Good. Let’s get this son of a bitch, Cap.”

Sam smiled. “I’ll race ya.”

-----

Tony dodged yet another of Peter’s swinging kicks. “Sam! Update?”

“They’re almost at the jet, Tony!” Bucky answered for him. “The rest of us are preparing to storm the base. When we get the commander, and Sam and Rhodey get the quinjet, it’s over. Just you and the kid now, Stark, hang on.”

Peter swung again; Tony decided to let this one hit. They’d been playing this cat-and-mouse game for a while now, with fewer and fewer shocks coming to the device on Peter’s head. Tony could only hope Hydra would buy the facade to the end.

“You hear that, Pete?” Tony whispered to himself. “Just hang on.”

-----

Hydra held out to the end. But the Winter Soldier, and the team of Avengers he led, captured the base eventually. Bucky stormed into their control room and pinned the commander to the wall without slowing a step.

“Kill switch!” he demanded. Too late; the commander popped a pill, and died foaming from the mouth.

“It’s gotta be here…” Bruce scoured the panels and screens. “Tony said he had a finger on Peter’s button the whole time, it’s gotta be here!”

Then the screens blazed red. An alarm blared throughout the captured base.

And up on the main screen, the countdown started.

-----

“Wilson! Rhodey!” the urgent call came through their earpieces.

“Bruce, we got the jet!” Rhodey replied. “Crew’s secure, we’re flying back—”

“No, abort!” Bruce shouted. “They tripped self-destruct on all assets! We’re evacuating the base, crash the plane in the water and get out of there!”

Rhodey and Sam made to clear the plane they’d just taken over, when Rhodey suddenly realized something. “Wait, all assets?” he said into the comms. “Self-destructing all assets?”

“Everything’s set to blow!”

Rhodey stopped dead in his tracks. “What about Peter?”

-----

“Peter!” Tony yelled.

They had just been exchanging half-hearted blows, when the kid suddenly crumpled to the floor, clutching his head. FRIDAY immediately turned the lights back on and Tony rushed to Peter’s side.

“FRIDAY, talk to me!”

“It’s a different signal, Boss,” FRIDAY replied quickly. “Current’s going steady!”

Peter curled into a fetal position, a scream ripped from his throat.

“Cap!” Tony shouted.

“Tony! Barnes deactivated Peter’s manual kill switch. But we got another problem, the device has a self-destruct too, and it’s been tripped! You’ve got three minutes to—”

Tony tuned the rest out. As Peter continued writhing on the floor, Tony knelt and placed one suited hand behind the device on Peter’s head.

“It’s locked tight!” FRIDAY reported. “You can’t get it off in time without damaging the neural links.”

“Or setting the bomb off early,” Tony bit out. Below him, Peter screamed.

Tony stared at the electrocution device. That black metal torturing his kid, cruelly and ironically shaped like a spider itself. Tony stared. Shaped like a spider.

“FRIDAY…?”

“Yes,” FRIDAY answered like she’d read his mind. “It’s from the suit he was wearing when he was captured, modified, of course.”

The answer fell neatly in place in Tony’s mind. “Then it’s a good thing I brought backup.” He held his hand out, and a smooth metal disk flew at him from where Tony had stashed it in the room.

“Tones!” Rhodey’s voice. “Two minutes!”

Tony leaned over Peter’s still twitching body. “Peter, look at me. Look at me, kid. I need you to trust me.” Peter looked up, fear and tears and pain in his eyes. “Trust me,” Tony repeated, laying the metal disk on Peter’s chest. The kid didn’t fight him, and almost imperceptibly, Peter nodded.

Tony activated the disk.

-----

Peter’s head felt on fire. Peter’s chest felt cold.

In his head, the current ripped through everything, memories and feelings and pain. On his chest, the metal disk spread out, crawling like ants but cool on his burning skin.

His head felt like it would burst. The spreading metal on his chest held him together.

Until the cool metal wasn’t only on Peter’s chest anymore—until it was all over him, covering his body. Covering the electrocutor on his head.

Fire fought cold, and Peter screamed.

He heard Tony shouting. He heard the ticking of a countdown clock on the back of his head.

He heard the click.

And Peter passed out.

-----

Peter passed out in Tony’s arms. Tony cradled the body close to his chest, listening for his breathing, feeling for the pulse that would tell him whether his world had just fallen apart in his arms.

“Boss,” FRIDAY’s voice came an eternity later, “vitals holding steady.”

Tony exhaled the weight of a planet off his lungs, and lay his head down on top of Peter’s. “I got you, kid.” Breathing in, out. The nanotech Spider-Man suit deactivated, and as the helmet retracted, the electrocution device dropped cleanly from Peter’s head. Tony held his kid closer. “I got you.”

----- Chapter 4: Home -----

The Compound was peaceful in the mornings.

Early sunlight filtered in through the windows, the gold just hitting the green of the treetops. And it was quiet. Where the screens and beeping vitals monitors had felt like intruders in the night, in the morning their presence was subdued, making it easier to hear the bedridden person being monitored when he began to stir.

The moment her nephew opened his eyes, May was right by his side.

He struggled for words, she couldn’t come up with anything to say, so between the two of them it was silent for a while. Finally Peter spoke. “You’re… you’re the woman from my dreams.” Peter furrowed his brow. “I want to say… Mom… but somehow it doesn’t fit.”

May took his hand. “I’m your Aunt May, Peter. It’s… it’s good to have you back.”

“I don’t know—I don’t know if I’m back. I still…” Peter shut his eyes. “The dreams and nightmares… and the memories… they come in pieces. I—I don’t know my whole life yet. Or even… who I am.”

“We’ll help you. The whole team will help you.” May smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Peter’s forehead. “To start—your name is Peter Parker. And you’re my kid.”

The two of them spent the whole morning together. The Compound was peaceful in the mornings.

-----

Peter pieced it together, slowly.

His aunt was named May Parker. The man monitoring his recovery from the incident at the Tower, was Bruce. And the other frequent visitor to Peter’s room was already familiar. The person who saved his life, who his aunt bantered easily with, and who always brought them both some kind of hot beverage, that was Tony Stark.

It was Tony who sat with May at Peter’s bedside, filling in the gaps. Tony who explained the kidnapping, the brainwashing, their search. Tony who always reminded Peter to take his recovery easy, and always looked at him with such warmth.

There were others on the team, too. The first time Peter was able to leave the medbay, a man introducing himself as Sam led him to the shared living quarters. Another guy, Rhodey, dropped beside him on the couch and passed him some pizza, and Peter recognized his voice from the fight at the warehouse. They ended up having a good laugh about it.

He met Pepper. And Morgan. Even got reacquainted with FRIDAY.

And Bucky Barnes. Though usually quiet, the man turned out to be among the most outspokenly encouraging about Peter’s recuperation. “It gets better, kid. I know the memories come back in pieces, and it can be frustrating.” He had a faraway look in his eyes, and Peter could tell the man made an effort to make his tone light. “It’s a long road. But… believe me, it gets better.”

-----

It did get better. But not all at once.

Along with memories of tinkering in the lab, came memories of being strapped to a table. Along with dreams of warm fireplaces in a cozy apartment, came nightmares of the burning electricity in Peter’s head.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was when Peter dreamed about the Tower, about beating the enemy up, except this time Peter didn’t pull his punches. And when he drew back he would be staring at Tony’s bloodied face. Or Bucky’s. Or Sam’s. Or May’s.

One night, suffocated by his own mind, Peter escaped to the Compound rooftop. A lone metal bench sat under the stars; Peter drifted towards it. He hadn’t been sitting there long when he sensed footsteps behind him, and turned to see Tony in the doorway.

“Just checking in,” the older man said. “Your aunt woke up and you weren’t there, she thought maybe you were with me in the workshop…”

Peter shuffled his feet. “Sorry. I sneaked away and didn’t want to disturb her.”

“Okay.” Tony lingered awkwardly. “It’s fine. Um. I’ll go. Do you want me to call May, or…”

Peter paused. He found he didn’t really want to call May, not right now. But he didn’t want to be alone, either.

“You always up this late?” Peter found himself asking instead.

“I guess so.” Tony shrugged. “Old habit.”

“Me too,” Peter replied. As he said it, he wondered if it was true about himself. Really, he was just saying what he thought might get Tony to stay.

Tony looked at him for a moment, tilting his head. Then, as if he’d read his mind, Tony sat down on the bench beside Peter. And for the next few hours, Tony stayed.

They sat quietly for a while, lost in their own thoughts, but it was a familiar kind of silence. One that made Peter feel safe. He plucked up the courage to speak several minutes later. “Mr. Stark?” Peter said. He didn’t know why the more formal address somehow felt more comfortable than ‘Tony,’ which was what Peter had been calling him lately. For some reason it just did. Tony turned his head, but if he noticed the change, he didn’t comment on it. “Mr. Stark,” Peter continued, “what happened back at the Tower? Really?”

Tony furrowed his brows. “We, uh, we fought, Pete. And then Hydra tripped the self-destruct on the device around your head, and…”

“Yeah, and you got it off, and then I passed out.” Peter fiddled with the zipper on his hoodie. “You told me. But how did you get it off, exactly?”

“Oh.” Tony leaned back against the bench. “I missed that part, huh.”

“Oh, I thought of another—why, why was that device shaped like a spider?”

Peter could tell Tony weighed his words carefully before answering. “It came from a suit. A specific, uh. Spider-Man’s suit.”

“Spider-Man?”

“Yeah.”

“So the thing you used to get it off…”

Tony nodded. “That was Spider-Man’s slightly older suit. Same signature, so the override worked.”

“He seems to have a lot of suits.”

“Yeah,” Tony chuckled. “Yeah, real tinkerer, that one.”

“It spread from my chest, felt like ants crawling on me.”

“That would be the nano-particles. I helped with that part, but the rest of it, all his handiwork. He’s very capable that way. Skilled guy.”

“Yeah.” Peter looked down. “Yeah, I bet. No wonder Hydra wanted him.”

Tony stiffened beside Peter. After a moment Peter felt a hand on his shoulder. “We were gonna tell you, Pete. Eventually. But doctors said to go slow on the whole memory thing and… I, I wasn’t quite sure how to break that gently, to be honest.”

Peter shrugged. “It’s okay. Not that hard to figure out. My senses, plus the memories that name brought up…” He took a breath. “And, I mean, the Avengers. You guys are, you’re Earth’s mightiest heroes or whatever. Why… why else would you all be so hell-bent on saving me?”

“What do you—because you’re one of us,” Tony said firmly. “Not because of what you can do.”

Peter didn’t answer. After several weeks fighting for a team that only seemed to care about what Peter could do, he didn’t seem to know how to answer.

“Is—is this what this is about? What keeps you up at night?” Tony pushed. “You’re wondering why you were worthy?”

Peter fiddled with his zipper, with the hem of his hoodie, anything to keep his fingers moving. “I hacked into your databases,” Peter said in a small voice.

“We dealt with that damage, Peter.”

“I wrecked your garage, your suit—”

“Things can be replaced.”

“And I beat you up pretty good.”

“Oh, yeah.” Tony laughed. “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that one.”

The laugh disarmed Peter. He turned to meet Tony’s eyes, but he found no unkindness or mockery there—only sincerity behind the outer humor. Peter couldn’t help but smile too.

“Hey, I should thank you. I don’t get much exercise in retirement,” Tony quipped.

“Semi-retirement,” Peter blurted. That made both him and Tony stop. “You’re… only semi-retired,” Peter continued uncertainly. “You, um. You’re my…” But Peter's burst of memory failed; it only ever reached so far.

“Mentor,” Tony supplied when Peter trailed off. “Occasional tech support. Substitute Guy in the Chair…”

“Old man?” Peter joked.

Tony snorted. “Disaster child. Never change.” Then Tony’s eyes softened, and he lowered his voice. “You are a part of this team, Peter. Everything we put on the line was worth it. Everything. Because it got you home.”

Peter breathed deeply, and let it out in a long sigh. Slowly, he leaned against Tony’s side, and Tony put an arm around his shoulders. Peter found he fit in Tony’s arms like a puzzle piece. Like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged there.

“I wish I could remember more,” Peter admitted quietly, when he was good and settled in Tony’s embrace. “I wish I could remember faster. Or I wish… I’d never forgotten in the first place.”

Tony hugged him a little tighter. “We’ll be here to remind you.”

-----

They reminded him. And slowly, Peter recovered. Slowly, Peter remembered.

-----

They held a second birthday party at May’s apartment a few days later. Complete with streamers, red and blue balloons, and—

“Chocolate cake. Always chocolate cake, and you always bake it yourself,” Peter remembered.

May smiled as she kissed Peter’s temple, and handed him a slice.

-----

Peter eased slowly back into training, too.

“You wanna deflect the knife like this, and remember to—”

Peter broke Bucky off when he executed the move perfectly, ending with him pinning his sparring partner to the ground. Sam laughed and flashed a thumbs-up from the sidelines.

“I remember,” Peter realized, grinning.

-----

“Every other weekend? I used to hang out with the Tony Stark every other weekend?”

“Until stupid college got in the way,” Tony groused playfully. He handed Peter a wrench for the reinforced garage door they were installing.

“Still can’t believe I go to MIT,” Peter said as he tightened the screws.

“Yeah. When you’re ready to go back, treat Ned and Michelle to a big movie night or something, whatever you kids do for fun. They can't wait to see you again.” Tony looked up from his toolbox. “Do you remember…?” he said tentatively.

Peter nodded. He did remember, bits and pieces—laughter with a childhood friend, stolen moments with a girl he admired. All on their own, Peter’s cheeks began to blush.

Tony grinned. “Yeah. Thought you did.”

-----

There were some things, though, that were Peter’s very own. And that he had to rediscover on his own.

“How’s it feel?” Tony asked, as Peter donned the Spider-Man suit for the first time in months.

Peter tested it out: stretched his arms, fiddled with the web shooters, said hi to Karen. “It—it’s perfect, Mr. Stark,” he said when he was finished. “Thank you.”

Tony slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders and walked with him across the Tower rooftop. “Alright. This one you’ll have to figure back out on your own. But you did it before, and you’ll do it again.” Tony smiled. “Spider-Man.”

Peter perched on the edge of the roof, feeling the wind on his suit, the rush of his senses. The feeling of being back where he belonged.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man. This was his to remember. This was his to reclaim.

“Stay safe,” he heard Tony whisper, as the older man backed off from the edge.

Peter turned to him. “Tony?”

Tony looked up at him, and Peter paused to relish that short moment. For all the time they’d spent together lately, this was different. This was special. This was them, back in their old mentor-mentee groove. And it felt good.

“I, I just wanted to say—” Peter started, and he grinned. “I still think ‘official Avenger-Guardian of NYC’ should be a thing. And it definitely ranks higher than Iron Man.”

Tony’s dropped jaw, and his mock-offended face, was the last thing Peter saw as he shot a web and swung down over his city.

Spider-Man had returned.

#the friendly neighborhood exchange #friendly neighborhood exchange #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #fanfic #jelly's

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teratalia · 4 years

Text

Noppera-bou (faceless ghost) x reader

Shoutout to the manga Itou-kun doesn't know about love and Faceless girlfriend for giving me the idea and making me lowkey fall in love with Noppera-bou

Quick notes: wlw fluff because I'm a whole mess

You drank way too much tonight, and you absolutely know it. Waving away concerned friends’ offers of taxi rides, you start to stumble your way back to your apartment. It isn’t even that far away, your haze-filled brain tells you, so you’ll be home in no time.

The apartment is barely 10 minutes away on foot, and you’ve done a drunken walk back in less than 20 minutes. But then why is your phone telling you it’s been more than an hour since you started walking, and you don’t think you’re any closer to home?

Looking around, you see various apartments and neon store signs towering over you, but none of them look familiar. You swear that some of the neon lights turn to face you as you walk, but you blame that on the alcohol.

The people that walk by you on the street seem normal at first, but when you look too closely you start to see...differences. Longer ears, a flicking tail, eyes a bit too big. Staring at one person that you swear has fuzzy cat ears that are way too realistic, you bump right into someone that feels like a wall of muscle. They glare down at you as you mumble some sort of weak apology. You don’t get to say anything more as the ground rushes up to meet you.

Before you can fall flat on your face, another stranger grabs you and holds you up with surprising strength. The bulky person rolls their eyes and stalks away as you whisper a thank you to this newcomer. Turning to her, you see that her silky black bangs are covering her eyes and the lower half of her face is concealed by a mask, with a cute smiley face on it. She nods, pulling you down an alleyway, and you simply let her. Soon enough, you find yourself right outside your apartment.

Before she can leave, you clutch onto her shirt.

“Wait, what’s your name?” You slur, introducing yourself slowly so you don’t stumble over the syllables of your own name.

She ducks her head, almost shy, and in a whisper you hear, “...Kasumi.”

Then she’s gone, running back through the alleyways.

A few weeks later, you leave the bar just a bit tipsy instead of totally drunk. You had told your friends about the mysterious girl and the weird street you found, but they didn’t believe you.

“Maybe you saw some cosplayers leaving an event or something,” suggested one of them.

You couldn’t deny that it was likely, but you knew what you saw. Superhuman features that looked way too realistic to be prosthetics or makeup.

Heading down the street, you let your feet guide you, hoping to stumble upon that same place. You find yourself right outside your own apartment in less time than usual and pout, wondering how to get back to that weird street. As you paced around in front of your building, you felt someone else’s presence but didn’t see anyone nearby.

Out of curiosity, foolishness, or maybe both, you duck into the nearest alley and start walking. Heedless of any possible dangers, you spot a familiar head of black hair poking out from behind a pole. That head disappears the moment you notice, though.

“Kasumi? Is that you?” You call, eagerly walking forward. “I just want to talk if that’s okay with you.”

Kasumi shyly steps out, head lowered and hands clasped in front of her. “H-hello...” she mumbles, clearly avoiding eye contact with you.

"I'm so glad you're here!" You beam, taking her hands in yours. "Do you have some time to hang out right now?"

She perks up, bangs fluttering around her forehead. "You want to…?"

Kasumi leads you back to the weird place you knew you hadn't imagined, and you try not to gawk at the people with multiple limbs, limbs in different places, eyes and heads and tons of body parts that were clearly inhuman. She brings you to a little park where you can sit together on a bench, as she seems to like people-watching and you're completely enthralled by it.

"I want to thank you for helping me out the other day, Kasumi," you tell her. "So, you know. Thank you."

She waves a hand dismissively, patting your shoulder. You sit in comfortable silence for a while, just watching the humanoid creatures go by, but you still want to get to know her.

"Hey, could I see your face?" You ask out of nowhere, making her jump in her seat. She shakes her head, hair swishing back and forth, and she reaches up to make sure her mask is firmly in place. "I mean, considering where we are, I'm assuming that you're not fully human. I'm already aware of that, if that's what's bothering you, but I won't keep pressing if you really don't want to."

Uneasily, she whispers something about terrifying you.

"I won't be scared, I promise," you say encouragingly. "Please."

With a shaky sigh, she unfastens the mask and pushes her bangs to one side. There's nothing there.

You can't help but stare at the empty expanse of skin, with no facial features to speak of. Kasumi's face is perfectly smooth, rounded cheeks continuing into her forehead, unbroken by eyes or a nose or lips.

At your stare, Kasumi's face turns down and she lets her bangs down, shoulders slumping.

"No, hang on," you say. "I'm not scared. I'm not," you repeat when she turns to stare at you. "I'm just surprised, is all. Is it strange that I still think you're cute?"

As quickly as she puts the mask back on, she can't hide the pink blush that spreads across her cheeks.

***

You've been spending so much time in the alternate back alley world that you're considering getting a job here. To continue being with Kasumi, it's definitely a worthwhile thought.

The two of you are having breakfast at Kasumi's favorite café, sharing a plate heaped with waffles and maple syrup and whipped cream and fruit. She's always been shy about eating in front of you, worried that it would freak you out, but seeing the loaded fork disappear into her face and reappear empty isn't so strange to you anymore. In fact, nothing about her is strange anymore.

She's wearing a simple hairclip, showing off part of her forehead and not covering her whole face as usual. Spearing a cream-covered strawberry on your fork, you lift it up. Noticing this, Kasumi puts down her own fork and leans forward to let you feed her. Putting her hands on her cheeks, she flushes happily, inclining her head. You could watch that blush bloom over her face forever and it still wouldn't be enough.

You smile softly, feeling just as drunk as the day you met her. Drunk on your adoration for her, the way that you have come to understand what she tries to tell you without words, the way she leans into your touch, the way she tugs at your clothes or touches your hands to get your attention. The way you catch her sightlessly staring at you sometimes, and you know she's been staring because she instantly turns away and pretends to do literally anything else.

Kasumi tilts her head a different way, patting your hand inquisitively as if to ask what's wrong, startling you out of your thoughts.

"It's nothing, honey. Is it good?"

She nods enthusiastically, cutting a piece of waffle and holding it out to you. Savoring the bite, you smile again as her hand returns to her cheek, resting her face in her palm to watch you eat.

"It's delicious," you say, "but I think I still prefer your cooking."

Kasumi nearly drops her fork, blushing bright pink and smacking your hand for teasing her. You merely giggle and keep eating. Still slightly pink, she turns to look out the window, pointing something out to you. Curiously, you try to see what she's pointing at, and as you do she leans over the table. Her featureless face nuzzles against your cheek briefly, an odd yet pleasant sensation, and you gasp.

"Kasumi, what was that?" Stunned, you take in her deepening blush and fidgety fingers. "Was that a kiss?"

Slowly, hesitantly, she nods.

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any cuter."

Instantly she unclips her hair, letting it cover her forehead entirely as she hides the rest of her red face behind a napkin. You giggle, tugging her hands away.

"No, you don't get to do that." Gently you lower her hands, carefully clipping her bangs back again. "I like seeing your face."

Unable to hide behind the discarded napkin, she resorts to swallowing forkfuls of waffles as a distraction.

Eventually the pair of you finish the plate and, after leaving a generous tip for the server, make your way outside.

As you walk, you go way slower than usual, kicking at the ground with your heel. You can feel Kasumi's gaze (or lack thereof?) on you, and she links arms with you and tilts her head up to yours.

“What’s...wrong?” She whispers.

You press your lips together, seeing Kasumi's place not too far away.

“So I was thinking,” you start, and Kasumi nods, “that it always takes me a while to come spend time with you.” You stare straight ahead, almost afraid to see her reaction. “Maybe I should just move in with you.”

Kasumi stops short, releasing your arm and taking a step back.

“Kasumi?” Oh no, you already regret such a hasty suggestion. “I-I mean, of course I don’t have to if you don’t want me to. It’s okay—“

Suddenly she launches herself at you and you open your arms just in time to catch her. She’s not saying anything, but her face underneath her mask is flushed and she’s trembling, clutching onto you like a lifeline.

“Whoa!” You giggle nervously, squeezing her petite form in your arms. “Is that a yes? Can I come live with you?”

She nods vigorously, bangs bobbing up and down.

“So I won’t be a bother?”

She shakes her head, bangs swishing back and forth.

For the rest of the walk, Kasumi silently holds your hand without looking at you, but you can tell she’s happy. You don’t know how, but you just know.

Once outside her place, you pause, wondering what to say or do now. Kasumi solves that problem by beckoning you towards her and standing up on tiptoe. You lean down and kiss the place where her mouth would be. There's no nose to get in the way or lips to focus on, and the weird yet nice feeling returns in full force. When you pull away, she's blushing again, hiding behind her hair a little.

"I'll see you later," you say softly. She nods, but before she can turn to open the door, you add, "Hey, Kasumi? I love you."

Her hair fans out as her hands fly to her chest, resting over her heart. In the quietest voice yet, she whispers, "Love you, too."

With that, she disappears inside her house and you continue to walk on, unable to keep the grin from taking over your face.

***

Living with Kasumi in domestic bliss makes you feel like the luckiest woman on the planet, and no matter what happens during the day, you know you can come home to an adoring girlfriend.

Eventually you come home from work one day, eager to show her something. Kasumi notices your excitement and tilts her head.

“Open your hands, honey.” When she does, you give her the gift: a little pack of hair clips, to replace the plain one she sometimes wears. They’re colorful and pastel, just like the colors she wears the most.

Her head droops a bit and you rush to explain. “I saw these and instantly thought of you. You don’t have to wear all of them outside if you don’t want to. I just wanted to see your face more, that’s all.”

“My face...? Nothing to...to see...”

You shake your head. “That’s not true. You’re so cute, it’s a pity not seeing it more often. Besides, when I told you that I loved you, I meant all of you. Including your face.”

Her head is still lowered as she gives the hair clips back to you. You sigh and you’re about to go digging in your bag for the receipt when she taps the clips and then her bangs.

“You want me to put them on you?”

At her nod, you beam and lead her to the couch. She sits while you kneel in front of her, parting her bangs to one side and kissing her forehead affectionately. Taking your time, you place the hair clips to reveal Kasumi's face a little more. Knowing that she’s still self-conscious, you make sure not to show too much, letting some hair fall over one side. Sitting back, you admire your handiwork.

“How’s this?” You hand her a mirror and watch as she gently runs her fingers through her bangs, touching the hair clips. Still holding the mirror, she leans forward and wraps her arms around your neck, nuzzling your cheeks as you laugh.

"Hey, Kasumi?" She leans back to see your face better. "Are you happy?" Nodding so furiously that her bangs brush against your face, she plucks an extra hairpin from the case and fastens it in your hair so that you match. Then she pats your hair and tilts her head at you. "Me too. Couldn't be happier."

And as Kasumi buries her face in the crook of your neck, you breathe in the soft scent of her shampoo and let the warm, fuzzy feelings take over. Maybe you'll buy cute couples clothes to match from head to toe. She'd blush and look away, but the way she'd sidle up to you and squeeze your hand would betray her real feelings.

You're perfectly happy just knowing that you have all the time in the world to see that beautiful blush over and over again.

#exophilia #monster girlfriend #noppera-bou #faceless ghost #my writing #sfw #me: can't let people know i yearn #also me: *writing yet another wlw fluff story*#also also me: wlw...must give gifts...bc of reasons...

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somekindoftuber · 5 years

Text

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 5)

(I apologize if the tense changes all over the place, I’m writing this as a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing because I care more about getting the idea out than writing something that’s grammatically perfect. I’ll probably clean this up and make it an actual fic once it’s all done. Thanks for reading!! :D)

part one | part two | part three | part four

There is a definite shift in Keith’s demeanor after Lance’s last visit.

They play Overwatch a few times a week, and while Keith goes into stern-leader-battle-mode when the game is going, between matches he’s loose, candid. He laughs at Lance’s jokes and makes casual conversation about his job, the garage, tells funny stories about Kosmo. Lance tells Keith stories about the customers he has at the cafe. It’s nice to hear a softness in Keith’s voice that Lance hadn’t heard before.

Keith shows up in nearly all of Lance’s Overwatch videos, even if his mic isn’t recorded. They sort of fall into a rhythm, meeting online every Tuesday and Thursday night to search for servers.

“Y’know,” Keith says one night while they’re in queue. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a sniper type.”

“Eh?” Lance is in his Widowmaker menu at that moment, flipping between two skins to see which one he likes more. “What d’you mean?”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Keith clarifies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “You just seem like more of a Mercy or a support or something. You’re really…” he pauses. “Generous. Always helping people. Then you get in here and you turn into a cold blooded assassin.”

Lance laughs. “I’ve always played a sniper, though. Gotta have balance somewhere, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They text a lot. It’s all small stuff, like pet photos or memes (which Keith doesn’t understand 90% of the time and Lance finds that kind of adorable). But it’s nice. Occasionally they’ll both have an early shift, and Lance will text Keith photos of the ancient espresso grinder, captioned “this thing wants me dead” surrounded with skull emojis. Keith’s sense of humor, Lance learns, is dry as cracker juice. He gets a photo of a broken rubber floor mat with the question, “what sound does a floor mat make when it splits right before a fitness class?” Before Lance can answer, he gets another photo of the same mat, this time with Keith’s middle finger pointing soundly at it. “That sound,” says the caption. Lance laughs so hard that his boss yells at him for being on his phone during a shift.

August comes to an end, and Pidge prepares for her final term. Lance helps by assisting in an apartment clean out, getting rid of literal clutter to ease Pidge’s impending mental clutter. Lance tries not to think about how this might be their last few months in this apartment together. He’s really enjoyed living with Pidge - he wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was like a sister. Pidge is an extension of his family, ever since they met at space camp all those years ago. She’d been a tiny, fluffy, indomitable ball of pure snark and Lance loved her immediately. Since then, they’d stuck together, seeing each other through some of the hardest times. Lance had cheered his lungs out when Pidge was handed her high school diploma, and in a few months, he’d see her walk across another stage in a cap and gown to receive her bachelor’s degree in Robotic Engineering.

It made him a little misty-eyed to think about it.

Pidge is playing Stardew Valley one afternoon (how the hell did she manage to make such an insanely profitable farm before the end of year one?) when she casually brings up one of Lance’s favorite fall events.

“You gonna go to the Founder’s Fair this year?”

Lance doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Uh, is the Pope catholic?”

“Good.” On the screen, Pidge’s character gives a bouquet to Penny. Dating everyone but marrying no one: the Pidge method. “Hunk is coming in for it.”

“Sweet.”

The Harborville Founder’s Fair was the highlight of every autumn. Right as the summer was fading away and the air was showing a hint of a chill, Oceanside Park would explode into three days of carnival rides, food trucks, fireworks, and everything in between. It was also the best time of year to surf - they didn’t get much in the way of waves here, but there would always be just enough in late September to rent a board. Lance had put in his time off request a month ago, buttering up his boss with the ‘this might be my last September in Harborville’ sob story. Which was sort of true, even if he wasn’t quite ready to face that reality yet.

Lance felt like he was getting closer to Keith. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but if nothing else, Keith seemed to finally be relaxing around him. There were one or two times when Lance could almost swear Keith was flirting, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. Nope, don’t go there. That’s assuming things. Assuming is dangerous.

The fair is in a week and to make up for missing work on what will be one of the busiest weekends of the year, Lance is working at the cafe nearly every day. He has more steam burns on his hands and wrists from making lattes than ever, and he thinks if he hears the word “pumpkin spice” one more time he might lose it. He hasn’t played Overwatch all week, too tired from extra shifts to do anything other than zone out to Netflix when he gets home.

He’s got two hours left in his Thursday morning shift, then he’s free for the whole weekend. He can practically taste the funnel cakes now - and the Rancho Alegre food truck, the only decent source of Cuban food in the entire state, will be there. God, he’s going to eat until he can’t move.

The morning rush has come and gone and the afternoon crowd isn’t here yet, so Lance is cleaning up the mess of coffee grounds and cinnamon around his work station when the bell on the cafe door sounds. He doesn’t look up as his coworker/supervisor Romelle greets whoever walks through, too preoccupied with wondering how the hell almond milk ended up underneath the grinder.

“Hello,” says the customer and Lance totally knows that voice. He stops wiping sour milk and looks up.

It’s Shiro. And right behind him is Allura and - oh shit. It’s Keith. He’s here, he’s here in the cafe and Lance had no idea he was coming and he probably looks like shit, overworked with bags under his eyes and his face breaking out from stress and he didn’t even shampoo his hair this morning because he was running late --

But then Keith smiles at him and wow. His hair is down and he’s wearing this black and red leather jacket and it should be illegal to look that good. Especially when Lance is such a mess.

“Hi,” Lance says, hating how his voice cracks. “What are you guys doing in town?”

Shiro is pulling out his wallet with his left hand. “We came for the fair. It was always one of my favorite things about going to school here.”

“Oh,” Lance squeaks.

They’re here for the fair. Lance might get to spend time at the fair with Keith. He forces himself to focus on the present before a dozen fantasies of ferris wheel rides and sharing cotton candy can take over his brain.

They all order drinks and Lance claims them before Romelle can even finish ringing them up. Shiro gets a hazelnut americano, Allura orders a tuxedo mocha, and Keith shyly asks for a latte. Lance can tell he doesn’t go to coffee shops often and makes the drinks carefully. He can’t embellish Shiro’s americano, but he uses chocolate sauce and extra foam to draw a bow tie in Allura’s mug. For Keith’s latte, he sends a prayer to the coffee gods to grant him latte art prowess. It works, and Lance is rounding out rings of coffee and foam, pulling through to form a perfect heart.

He slides the mug across the counter to Keith, who’s eyebrow shoot into his hair. He breaths a little “wow” and blushes, taking the mug and smiling. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves. Lance’s heart flip-flops in his chest.

The three of them find a table near the window and sit, chatting and drinking their coffee. They’re too far away for Lance to hear what they’re saying, and even if he could, he’s on the clock, and the lunchtime regulars are starting to trickle in.

Would it be gauche to text his evening shift coworker and bribe him to come in early so Lance can leave?

Lance thinks Romelle can tell he’s pouting by the way she sides up to him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “Is that the guy?”

He follows her gaze and sees that it lands firmly on the table where Keith is sitting with Shiro and Allura. Keith looks up at Lance, and smiles a little before turning back to his brother.

“Yeah,” Lance whispers back, feeling his face heat up. “The one with the long hair.”

Romelle lets out a low whistle. “Quite the catch,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “What about the girl they’re with?”

“Allura?” Lance thinks. “I don’t know her very well, but she’s nice.”

“She single?”

Lance rolls his eyes and starts on the next drink. “No idea, you should ask her.”

It’s slower today and Lance is thankful for it. With Keith in the room, he can’t focus on anything - it’s a miracle he doesn’t catastrophically screw up the drinks he’s making. There’s a break in customers and Romelle comes over to Lance where he loading a portafilter with espresso and waves her phone.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and he does not like that voice. That’s her Supervisor Voice. “I’ll call Ryan in an hour early if you get me Cute Girl’s number.”

Lance puts the tamp down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He looks over at the table where Keith is sitting. They’ve all finished their drinks and will probably be leaving soon.

“Romelle,” Lance states. “You are an evil super villain and I love you. Consider that number yours.”

Fifteen minutes later, Ryan Kinkade is walking in and he doesn’t look particularly thrilled about it. Lance takes off his apron and motions at the jar of cash by the register.

“Ryan, you’re a lifesaver and my tips are yours. Thank you!” Lance clocks out before anyone can argue and walks over to where Keith and Co are sitting. He’s very much aware of how he probably reeks of coffee and looks like garbage but does his best to smile anyway.

“My shift is over, did you guys have any plans?”

Shiro smiles and stands. “I think we were going to head to our Air B&B and check in, actually. We could use a breather after that drive. We can meet up for dinner later, if you want.”

Inwardly, Lance lets out a sigh of relief because this means he’ll have time to take a shower and make himself presentable. “That sounds good! Any place you want to go?”

Shiro shrugs. “Is Vinnie’s still open?”

Lance lights up. “Oh yeah, still as good as ever, too! Want to meet there at, uh - “ He checks his phone, it’s barely 3pm. “Around five? We should beat most of the dinner rush that way.”

They all nod and the plans are made. They walk outside together and Lance watches the three of them get into a very nice Chrysler sedan - maybe Allura’s, given how she goes for the driver’s seat. Once they’re gone, Lance heads for his car and books it home. He immediately washes and exfoliates his face, then applies an anti-inflammatory mask and works at cleaning up the apartment. It was already fairly clean since Hunk will be crashing on the pull-out sofa bed for the weekend, and he has no idea of Keith will ever even see this place, but Lance doesn’t want to take any risks.

He shoots Pidge a text to tell her about their plans in case she wants to join. Hunk isn’t due until tomorrow morning.

Apartment clean(er) and his face mask dry and itchy, Lance hops in the shower and scrubs himself sore. Keith is here and will be spending the weekend here and Lance is equal parts ecstatic and terrified. He meticulously goes through his whole grooming routine, moisturizes, swabs, trims his eyebrows, even files his nails. He checks his reflection once he’s done and thankfully his face is less red, the stress acne barely noticeable.

There’s still about 45 minutes until he needs to be at Vinnie’s so Lance takes his time picking out clothes. He settles for a low cut tank top that shows off his collarbones and a beige button down over it with the sleeves rolled up, finishing it off with a pendant necklace and grey skinny jeans. He examines himself in the mirror and frowns a little. Does it look too much like date clothes?

He doesn’t have time to change because then his phone pings and it’s Shiro, saying they’re heading to Vinnie’s a little early. Lance all but throws himself out the door.

Vinnie’s is starting to get crowded, Lance can already see the line forming when he parks. He spots Shiro and Allura easily, their white hair making them stand out. They’d managed to claim a patio table - no small feat - and were chatting happily.

Lance joins them and it’s amazing how welcome he feels in this group, the way Shiro half-pulls a chair out for Lance. Keith is sitting to his right, his jacket draped over the back of his chair, the black t-shirt he wore stretching nicely over his chest. And if he didn’t know any better, Lance could swear he saw Keith’s eyes sweep down his neck and linger.

They ate and laughed and ate more, drinking fancy gourmet sodas. They make loose plans for the weekend - beach tomorrow, then the fair on Saturday, and maybe brunch before they leave on Sunday. Lance educates Keith in the ways of the garlic knot, the most sacred food item on earth. And when Keith shrugs and says they’re “alright,” Lance feigns offense, gasping and clutching his chest.

Pidge joins them later, looking utterly spent from a long day of classes. Lance gives up his seat so she can collapse into it. He kneels beside the table instead, passing Pidge the last of their pizza and appetizers. Keith gives him a look, then scoots over to one side of his chair, patting the other with his hand.

Lance short circuits, looking from the empty side of the chair to Keith’s face several times.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get up here. That,” he points to where Lance is kneeling, “Is super bad for your knees.”

“Oh?” Lance slides into place, and it’s sort of uncomfortable with half of his ass hanging off the chair, but he can feel heat pouring off Keith’s body with how close he is. “You care much about my knees?”

Keith goes super red. “I’m a physical trainer,” He said, suddenly very interested in his soda. “It’s my job to care. Doing stuff like that will ruin them.”

“Right.”

Lance glances over at Pidge, who had a garlic knot halfway to her mouth and giving Lance the most predatory grin. He glares at her to shut down whatever evil plans she might be formulating.

They finally finish the food and decide to stop taking up a table, bussing it themselves to save the staff some work. Instead of a bar, they decide to head over to Lance and Pidge’s apartment to chill - half because Pidge isn’t 21 yet and wouldn’t be able to join them at most of the bars in town, and half because Vinnie’s was so loud that they’re all craving some quiet.

Lance is so thankful that his past self had the sense to clean a little more. They all sprawl out over the living room, Lance going to pull a chair from the kitchen to sit on so the guests can have the nice couch and Pidge can curl up in the easy chair. Lance offers up the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer and everyone takes one; Allura seems to be examining hers with great interest, like she’s never had one before.

Shiro talks a lot, mostly about what Harborville was like when he and Matt were in college. About their first apartment that should probably have been condemned, the dogs he’d walk between classes for extra cash. Eventually Lance’s cats come out of hiding to investigate, and Keith goes starry-eyed at Batou’s big green eyes and plush grey coat.

Pidge falls asleep in her chair just after nine. Everyone takes a second to coo at how cute she is before Lance bends down to scoop her up.

“Lemme put sleeping beauty here to bed. If she stays there she’ll be sore and cranky when she wakes up.”

He takes Pidge to her room and sets her on her bed, then wrestles her sneakers off her feet, setting her glasses on the bedside table and draping a sheet over her. When he goes back into the living room and sits in the chair he’d removed Pidge from, Allura gives him a fond look.

“You’re very sweet to her.”

Lance shrugs. “She’s pretty much family. Also, I have to do that all the time. I’ve found her face down on her homework out here more times than I want to count.”

They talk for another two hours. Lance feels a little lonely with Keith sitting on the side of the couch furthest from him, but then again, if he was closer, Lance isn’t sure his brain would work. Allura yawns wide.

“I think it’s time we turned in,” she states. “I’d like to get some rest before the weekend starts.”

Shiro agrees. Lance ends up seeing them off in the parking lot, waving as they drive away.

Hunk arrives just after 10am the next morning, armed with bags of groceries to pack a picnic for the beach. He puts Lance and Pidge on an assembly line in the kitchen, making pork sandwiches, vegetable rolls, hummus wraps, crab and radish tartines, potato salad, and chocolate-dipped clementine slices. He’d picked up a package of Lance’s favorite lemon cream cookies and Lance could almost kiss him for it.

With their precious picnic food carefully packed in an ice chest along with plenty of drinks, Lance shot a group text to Keith, Shiro, and Allura to ask if they were ready for the beach. He got confirmation quickly, and they agreed to hit the north shore near the lighthouse, where the sand was rougher but the tourists tended to be a little thinner.

Parking is a bitch but they find a spot, then wait by the trunk for Keith and Co to arrive. About ten minutes later Lance sees Allura’s Chrysler pull in to a spot. They walk over to meet them and Lance is practically bouncing, because 1) he gets to go to the beach, 2) he gets to go surfing with Hunk, 3) he gets to spend time with new friends, and 4) Keith is here. Everyone is in shorts and light shirts, Allura has this big floppy sun hat that is absolutely precious on her, and Keith’s face is shiny with sunscreen. Lance bets that fair skin of his will still be red by the end of the day.

They find a spot that’s decently clear and set up. Hunk, Keith, and Lance tackle the portable canopy that will hopefully keep them all from becoming completely sunburned while Allura and Pidge set out the sand blanket and arrange their stuff to keep the wind from blowing it away. Once they’re settled, the ice chest is opened and sodas and juice are passed around. The wind is strong today but not enough to be a problem for their canopy, and the waves are large and plentiful. Lance eyes the surfboard rental shack a quarter mile down the beach.

Once they’ve had enough of snacking and chatting, Lance gives Hunk fingerguns and they almost take off down the beach together, making a beeline for the surfboards. Rolo is working it as usual and after some searching they find the perfect boards and duck into the changing tent to get into their springsuits. Lance has the white and blue suit up over his hips and was about to pull it the rest of the way on when he remembers that Keith is sitting out there. Ever since Lance learned he was a Crossfit trainer, he’d started running and working out again. He wasn’t in as good a shape as he was when he’d been swimming competitively, but thanks to months of regular exercise, he at least sort of looked the part again. And maybe he wanted to show off a little. So Lance left the top of his springsuit open and hanging from his hips as they went back to the group with their boards.

“Showoff,” Hunk accused while they were still out of earshot of everyone else.

Lance subtly flexed his chest. “So? I worked hard for this.”

When they got back to the canopy, Lance did his best to act nonchalant as he set his board aside and started pulling his springsuit up over his chest. Keith was definitely looking at him. Mission accomplished.

His flirty nature satisfied, it was time to surf. Lance missed this so much, the first step into the ocean water was like heaven. He and Hunk paddled out until the water was smooth, then sat on their boards and waited. They didn’t have to wait long, Hunk caught the first good wave that came their way, riding it out and away. Lance caught the next one, and it was a crazy high. It just felt so good, cutting through the water with his board, turning, riding through tunnels of blue-green. The waves tossed him, wrecked him, dragged his body against the sand below. But every time, Lance would surface, shake it off, and paddle out for another go.

His legs finally started to shake, so Lance hauled his board back to the shore. Hunk was already sitting under the canopy again, changed out of his springsuit and sipping on a juice box.

“I was gonna give you ten more minutes before I dragged you out of the water,” Hunk said.

Lance didn’t reply, chest heaving as he caught his breath. His board hits the sand and he all but collapses onto the sand sheet, his ears ringing.

A water bottle appeared in his periphery. Lance looked up enough to trace the hand that held it back to Keith, who was wearing this cute little smile. Lance smiled back and took the bottle, downing half of it in one gulp.

Pidge starts pulling out food and Lance blindly eats whatever is handed to him, too exhausted to care what it is. It’s all delicious but with how many calories he burned surfing, he could probably be eating stale saltines and they’d taste like a delicacy. He leans back on the sand sheet and basks in the post-surf euphoria.

Lance notices everyone starting to get up. Allura is holding several frisbees with a gleam in her eye, and most of the group is rising to join her. Keith stands and, after fiddling with the collar of his shirt for a second, reaches back and pulls it over his head, letting it drop to the ground.

Lance is instantly awake because holy shit. Keith is ripped. He’s all tight skin and perfect muscles and - oh.

He’d been wrong when he’d assumed Keith’s tattoo was a wolf. It’s actually a lion, roaring fiercely, emblazoned in dark red ink over his left hip.

Keith takes a hair tie off his wrist and uses it to pull his hair up high on the back of his head. He shoots Lance a loaded glance before walking out into the sun to join everyone else for a game of frisbee tag. Lance memorizes the muscles of his back as he goes.

“Good god, you’re so loud.”

Lance sits up and turns to see Pidge, sitting in the center of the sand sheet in her shorts and green rash guard, with her phone in one hand and a cookie in the other.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance protests. Pidge just cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Not with words, anyway.”

Lance frowns, then dares to look back out at his friends, finding Keith and tracking his movements across the beach.

They empty the ice chest of food and drink and, after several more hours of beach fun, they decide to pack it in and head out. Lance is going to remember this day for the rest of his life - the image of Keith glistening wet as he walked out of the ocean had finally taught Lance the meaning of the phrase “looks good enough to eat.”

Lance is so, so tired. Surfing wore him out but he still played a round of beach volleyball after that, and then swam some more. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow. He drives himself, Hunk, and Pidge back to their apartments to shower and change before they head over to the Air B&B where Shiro, Keith, and Allura are staying. Lance decides on a regular shirt and his favorite jeans, only bothering to put a single layer of moisturizer on his face.

The Air B&B turns out to be a whole house, with a yard and a little deck where they all gather around faded patio furniture as Shiro hands out beers. He gives Pidge a look as she takes one for herself.

“What?” She says as she twists off the top of the bottle. “I’m gonna be 21 in a few months, I’m in safe company, and I’m not driving.”

Shiro just sighs and sits down.

They talk and laugh for hours. Pidge only has one beer before switching to sweet tea, and Lance is a little relieved. He has no idea what drunk Pidge would be like and he’d rather not find out this weekend - he would be cash money that she’d be ornery as hell. Hunk orders some delivery from their favorite noodle place when Lance isn’t paying attention. Keith looks happy as a kid on Christmas with a giant bowl of pho in front of him, and Lance learns that Vietnamese food is his favorite.

They move inside once the sun goes down to keep from bothering the neighbors. Lance settles into a corner of the faded couch, and is too tired to panic when Keith sits next to him. Hunk launches into a story about his last term at school when he almost blew the breaker for the entire engineering building and Lance tries to pay attention, but he’s worn out and Keith is radiating heat like a furnace. Combine that with his full stomach and a couple of beers and he’s so, so sleepy.

Someone is calling his name and Lance inhales sharply, eyes fluttering open. It was Hunk, who’s smiling at him from across the coffee table. Lance is leaning on something warm and solid. He rubs his eyes and looks up.

He was leaning on Keith.

Lance’s eyes bug out but Keith just looks down at him with this tiny smile and a blush on his cheeks. Lance suddenly feels like the room is a million degrees as he carefully sits up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pass out.”

Keith laughs softly. “It’s fine.”

They all start to wrap up their stories and conversations. Lance doesn’t know what time it is but it feels late, and since they want to hit the fair tomorrow, they should all get some sleep. Hunk offers to drive home and Lance hands him the keys as Keith, Shiro, and Allura wave goodbye from the front porch.

He almost falls asleep again in the ten minutes it takes Hunk to drive them back to their apartment. Lance helps set up the pull-out sofa, then goes to brush his teeth. He’s practically nodding off at the bathroom sink when Pidge comes up to him and pulls out her phone.

“Thought you should see this,” she says, holding it up.

On the screen is a photo of Keith, and, with his head resting on Keith’s shoulder dead asleep, Lance. Keith is looking down at him and definitely blushing.

The toothbrush stills in Lance’s mouth as he swipes the phone from Pidge’s hand, using his thumbs to pull and zoom. Keith was smiling.

“Please send this to me immediately,” Lance tells her, words muffled from the toothbrush still hanging from between his teeth.

He’s in bed setting his alarm when he gets the text from Pidge with the photo attached. And if Lance hugs a pillow and kicks his feet a little at the sight, who could blame him?

Continued in part 6!

#youtuber au #text #klance

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crystalldragon · 4 years

Text

an unknown visitor

"Genji Shimada may ignore his responsibilities to the clan by playing video games, partying and fooling around, but he also enjoys being in his family's beautiful gardens. That is, until one day, he spots an unusual visitor in said gardens.

AU in which Genji and Zenyatta meet long before they actually meet. Not as cyborg ninja and omnic monk, but as young playboy and omnic apprentice.”

5 chapters (7,626 words)

ao3 link | or read it down below ↓

—1—

Spring has arrived in Hanamura. The pastel pink cherry blossoms, for which the city is best known for, are now in full bloom. With the clear blue sky above, the sun brightens up every inch of the town. Once again, Hanamura shows why it is one of the best visited towns in the area, especially during hanami season.

Though there is another beautiful spot, located hidden at the edge of the town. Almost no one knows of it, and those who do know, do not dare to take a footstep near it. The gardens of the Shimada clan.

If an intruder does enter it, it's very likely it's an enemy of the clan, seeking to infiltrate and hurt them. But those people go missing before anyone notices them. Normally, a Shimada member would kill them, and the enemy would see this as a warning not to threaten them again.

Sometimes teenagers break into their gardens as a dare. They know the Shimada clan has a great influence in the area due to their high status and money, and thus seek to rebel by means of ransacking their property.

Whoever it is, if they don't belong to the Shimada clan, they won't be staying there for long.

―

A shadow moves swiftly through the clan's gardens, sneaking along the walls demarcating the grounds from the outside. The ninja hops through the treetops, creating a faint rustling sound. There, on the biggest tree in the garden, he sits down on one of the branches overlooking the gardens. The man takes off his hood to reveal green, spiky hair.

Usually, one would instantly recognize Genji, the youngest son of the Shimada clan, from dozens of meters away. Right now, though, this is not the case, since the young man's hair blends in perfectly with the brightly green leaves. From his bag, he takes out a bento box and picks out his favorite maki sushi, enjoying the peace and quiet of the gardens. He'd told his family more than once what a torment it is to have to watch over the clan's estate while his friends can go out and have fun. Not only that, but it's also a waste since his family could easily gain more money if they were to open the gardens for visitors in exchange for a small fee.

He wishes he could show his friends just how goddamn beautiful the place is without it being a offense against his clan. No matter how nice to look at it is, it won't get nicer as long as there's no one to share the beauty with.

His other family members aren't here very often, most times it's when they're inviting others and showing them around. The patrolling and cultivation is mostly done by servants but sometimes the clan members help out voluntarily, when there's time. Or they have to do it as punishment for mild offenses. Which happens mostly to Genji, just as today.

His eyes look around the place for anything unusual, already knowing it will look the same as always. It does. He finishes eating his little snack and considers just going out anyway when he hears a distinct rustle. Is this another foreign cat that got lost in here? he thinks. Or is it some sort of attacker hiding in the castle’s grounds again? Or just simply another prank? In any case, he's quick to investigate. Sneaking further through the treetops, he reaches the wall leading to their Zen garden. He takes one last look over the main garden from above but again, sees nothing. So, the next station is their small Zen garden, which he can't observe from the trees because the wall separating the two gardens is too high. He climbs down the wall with ease and continues into the small garden, hiding behind a huge rock near the gate.

And there he is. The intruder. He spots a tall but slim figure sitting at the koi pond. His right hand already glides to his wakizashi, ready to strike quick and soundless. But upon closer inspection, he realizes that the intruder isn’t even human. It’s an omnic. And it’s wearing… a white orange kasaya? Normally, the clan’s enemies would send human hitmen on them, and even if they did send omnics, they would never look like this one. He isn’t sure what this thing is doing here, or how he is going to approach it.

In the end, he settles for sneaking up to it, giving in to his desire to exploit the element of surprise. If he has the omnic captured, he can freely interrogate it and then, decide on his next move.

But as he sneaks his way further into the garden, the omnic suddenly speaks up.

“Greetings, my friend. Are you here to appreciate the beautiful gardens as well?”

Clearly thrown off by the question, he abandons his former plan and instead, rushes forward and stands behind the omnic. “Who are you and how did you know I was here?”

The omnic chuckles slightly and stands up, the two now face to face. “I am sorry if I disturbed you. You may call me Zenyatta. Who are you?”

The young man looked at the omnic in utter disbelief. <em>Who does this omnic think it is, just breaking into our castle and pretending nothing's happened. Does it want to die</em>?

He coughs into his fist and tries to answer so as to get more information out of the omnic. “Huh. You know that this garden is my family's property?”

Zenyatta gasps. “Oh! I did not know that. I thought I was free to take a look at this place when I saw the opened entrance.” He bows and apologizes.

Wait, the entrance was open? Who opened it? Nevermind, I’ll just escort Zenyatta back to the entrance before anyone notices.

“It’s okay,” Genji answers, trying to be as polite as possible. “I’m simply going to lead you back to the garden’s entrance, and then it’s all forgotten. My name’s Genji Shimada, by the way.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your hospitality, Mr. Shimada.”

He really is an outsider. Otherwise he would have run the second he’d heard the name Shimada, Genji thinks.

——

Somehow, the omnic came back to the garden the day after that. And the day after that. It strolled through the gardens like nothing happened. It even played with Mio, Genji's favorite cat. And they both enjoyed each other's company! Genji's disbelief was immeasurable. It's lucky he has to watch over the gardens the whole week, or else this would have ended very quickly and very badly.

“Listen,” Genji says on the last day of the week, leaning against one of the trees and watching the omnic sitting at the garden’s pond from afar. This seems to be its favorite spot so far. Genji even saw it talking to the koi. No omnic does that. Not even a human does that. The average human at least. “I don’t know why you are so stubborn and won’t listen to my advice about not coming here again. These gardens are still private property, you know. And even though I'm often around this part of the castle, there is still a chance that someone other than me will walk around here, and when they see you, then you'll probably be dead." He twirls his shuriken around his fingers, partly to scare him, partly to show off.

"I am aware, Mr. Shimada," Zenyatta answers, and the confidence in its voice throws Genji off - he marvels at all the emotions this omnic manages to get across with only his voice. "I had hoped that you would be able to protect me, should such a thing really happen."

Oh god, this omnic is really to confident for his own good, Genji thinks.

He snorts. "Hah! As much as I love to rescue damsels in distress, I would rather not like to incite a war within the clan because of you."

He'd love to tell the omnic otherwise. He'd love to see someone give this huge garden the appreciation it deserves, even if it's just an omnic. Though, if Genji were to be honest, Zenyatta being an omnic doesn't really bother him, it is of no importance. More important are his manners. It just outright ignored his advice, seemingly without further thinking about it. If omnics were disobedient, they were usually violent too. It doesn't look like this applies to Zenyatta though. Genji doesn't even know where it comes from and what its motives and interests are. Maybe it's a spy after all?

Zenyatta stands up and looks in his direction, and even though its faceplate is unmoving he can somehow see the sadness beneath. "I am sorry for causing you trouble, Mr. Shimada. I was merely so fascinated by this place... I could not help myself."

The omnic slowly walks along the stony path leading to the exit but Genji stops it short by standing in front of it with his katana drawn. He knows he's being overdramatic right now and wants to show off again more than anything else, but he just has to know what's going on with this omnic.

"I'm not letting you go without you telling me who you are."

"I already told you my name," it says, tilting its head in confusion.

"No, I mean like, where do you come from and what is your purpose."

"Ah," Zenyatta answers, and Genji sees just now how not frightened it is. Of course, omnics are not humans but they have a built-in survival instinct similar to humans. Most times when Genji draws his blade, humans and omnics alike are quick to either run away, step back or put their hands up to surrender. Zenyatta has done none of that. Genji begins more and more to think it's either a servere error made by mistake or in reality a killer machine without fear sent to destroy his clan. Before he can continue that thought, the omnic answers slowly and calmly.

"As I said, my name is Zenyatta. I chose that name myself. I do not know which omnium I came from, but I can tell you I am currently in this city with a group of omnics from the same assembly line. We currently have no other purpose than to look for a purpose."

Genji lowers his sword. He wants to believe it so badly. But how can he? Omnics are able to lie just as well as humans.

"You do not believe me," Zenyatta says as if it can read his thoughts.

"I do! But..." Genji struggles to find the right words, so he simply says: "Maybe you can understand my caution."

"I can, Mr. Shimada, and again my deepest apologies for causing you trouble," the omnic replies and bows, the first act of submissiveness he has seen from it. "Is there any way I can prove my innocence? Maybe you can pay us a visit?"

"Hmmm..." Even if this proved to be a trap, he would surely get done with it. "Okay. So, where do you live?"

"Not too far away. Just across the 7-Eleven north from here."

The young man grins. "Ah, I know where you mean." There are some ryokan down that street. It's weird to have traditional old Japanese houses on one side of the street, and loud and bright supermarkets on the other side, but that's just how things are now.

"Wonderful!" Zenyatta clasps its hands in front of its chest. "I am looking forward to your visit!" It says with warmth in its voice.

Its emotional behavior throws Genji off. "Are you fl-" He stops himself mid-sentence. Are you insane?! He's - no, it's... whatever. He's not flirting with you! This is not even human! Your charm is inappropriate! "Nevermind. I will escort you to the exit."

—2—

"You have finished your duty for this week, Genji," Sojiro announces with a sincere smile. "You are now free to do what you want. Within the acceptable limitations, of course."

"I want to guard the castle grounds for another week, father."

"What?" Sojiro is taken aback by his sons' sudden change in behavior. He was the person to be the least willing to do things for the clan. It didn't bother him much, currently things were fine as they are. Genji was still a young man and surely there were enough lessons ahead for him to be learned.

"It's just... everything is in bloom right now, and I want to admire it in peace while helping you," Genji further explains. It wasn't exactly the truth but it wasn't a complete lie either. He loved looking at the colorful trees and flowers. But there was another thing he had in mind.

"Very well, my son," Sojiro says. "Your eagerness to help is both admirable and welcome. I will not send any servants to the gardens this week."

"Thank you, father," Genji bows, hiding the big grin that has formed on his face.

—

"Hanzo, I'm gonna go to Rikimaru," Genji shouts into the corridor where their rooms are. He gets no answer but knows Hanzo is there because he's heard him rummaging around in his room. Despite their fights and his rebellious behavior, he continues to tell his brother whenever he leaves, even if he lies about where he's going. Things like this give him at least the momentary illusion that everything is as it was when they were kids. It won't be long, he knows, before he'll get into trouble with his family again and then have to do something as punishment, over and over. Is there anything I can do that's so bad they'll just kill me as punishment? he wonders but sets the thought aside and pulls on his cardigan. "Seeya!" he shouts into the seemingly endless void of his family's castle.

—

He knocks on the door to the room Zenyatta told him about, his hand still sticky from the dorayaki he bought and ate just before. If he's being honest, he doesn't even know why he's doing this. Yes, officially it's to make sure they're not a threat to his clan. But it's not like they'll let him in and say "oh, we are planning to steal from you" or something. Besides, he already knows they're no threat. He doesn't know know, but his gut feeling tells him so. Zenyatta may be a cocky ass who won't listen, but he sounded like he was being honest about himself. If he's not and Genji would find out, he'd kill two birds with one stone. If they pose a risk, Genji would simply get rid of them and earn respect from his father for helping in keeping the family safe. If they show no signs of danger, he'd just have learned something new about omnics, which doesn't happen often since he has almost no contact to omnics except from their servants. It'd be interesting to know what the average omnics are up to these days.

The door slides open and he is greeted by a familiar face.

"Greetings, Mr. Shimada," Zenyatta says, stepping aside to let him in.

Genji accepts the invitation, smiling and taking off his shoes in the genkan.

"You can call me Genji, by the way," he says as he kneels down and puts his shoes in the corner of the small room. Just as he wants to check if Zenyatta has put off his shoes as well, he remembers that he doesn't even need shoes. Still, when he looks at his feet, he sees that they're exactly designed to look like he's wearing geta, or some other kind of similar shoe. Genji is not sure if it's a coincidence to have his cables laid like that or if the manufacturers knew exactly what they were doing. It will remain a mystery.

"Oh... is that really okay, Mr. Shimada?" Zenyatta asks and again, Genji is baffled by how the omnic can make himself sound so unsure and at the same time outright ignoring what he tells him to do.

"Can you do as I say, just for one time?" He says, slightly annoyed. It's not that he's annoyed at Zenyatta per se, he's more annoyed at how his... not-omnic-like behavior confuses him. Pretty girls and boys were allowed to amaze him like that, but not an old tin can! How old is Zenyatta anyway?

"Very well... Genji," Zenyatta says before Genji can repeat that question out loud. Hearing his first name from an omnic sounds weird. It's... unusual. A bit of triumph swells in his chest for getting him to listen.

"Okay, let's check out this place of yours," he says and gets up. There's nothing to check out for him, really. He knows the houses around here, has been to all of them, as visitor, or rather as "oh-you're-the-heir-of-the-Shimada-clan-let's-show-you-this"-visitor. And it's not like he's going to search all of their belongings. He's a smart young man, not some paranoid safety-seeking creature (like some of his relatives). So, he'll just follow along and listen to what these omnics have to say.

"Greetings, everyone," Zenyatta says as they arrive in the main room. "This is Genji of the Shimada clan." He taps on his back.

Genji steps forward and bows slightly. "Hello, everyone."

"This is Mondatta," he points to the omnic sitting at the table in the center of the room. "You could say we created this little group. Those two in the corner are KN-2048 and LN-2052. They haven't decided on any names yet."

The two wave their hands in greetings but Mondatta just sits still at the table and looks at them. His reaction reminds Genji of Hanzo when he's bringing one of his friends to their home.

"You are a disgrace to our family," he'd say, even though sometimes it were people he used to hang out with as well. By now, it's no understatement to say he's lost most of his friends and instead, spends most of his time with Shimada business.

Genji just stands there for a few seconds without saying anything, trying to come off as polite as possible by smiling in Mondatta's direction. He's not very good at being polite. He's good at being <em>charming</em>, fooling around with people and getting them to do what he wants, but not good at being the appropriate kind of polite.

Mondatta says nothing, instead nodding slightly at last and Genji relaxes inwardly. He's like Hanzo after all.

"So, do you have any plans?" He asks into the round.

"So far, we are trying to gather omnics who are lost and purposeless for a peaceful cause," Zenyatta explains. "Mondatta does most of the work, we just explore and talk to interested omnics."

"I see. So, have you found any new members here?"

"There are two omnics who showed interest, though they are currently outside. Maybe they will come with us."

"Come with you? To where?"

"That is not yet certain," Mondatta chimes in their conversation, causing Genji and Zenyatta to look at him. "Our current plan is to visit a few more places of interest and then settle on a place where omnics and humans alike are welcome to visit us."

"So your mission is basically to make peace?" Genji asks him, glad to finally have heard something out of his... mouth? Voice box? Whatever.

"That is correct," the omnic says and turns his gaze away from him again and towards the book he's reading.

"Sounds fine to me." As expected, he doesn't see anything suspicious. Not that you could hide any object in a room this small anyway. "I will be on my way again, then. T'was nice meeting you guys!" He waves goodbye and turns around to go to the entrance room again.

"Bye, Genji-boy!" One of the other omnics shouts after him. Mondatta gives them a look which probably would've looked grim if he were human. He turns to Zenyatta again, who's about to go after Genji.

"Zenyatta, come and talk to me later."

"I will," he promises and leaves the room with Genji.

"You guys look normal to me," Genji says to Zenyatta as he takes on his shoes again. "I mean, normal in a good way. Anyway, when will you be leaving?"

"We do not know yet. But we will be staying for a while."

"Good," Genji stands up and faces him. "Because I'll be watching over the gardens for the next week as well. You are free to come and go as you please."

"Really?" Zenyatta gasps and Genji is not entirely sure how he can do that but doesn't question it further. "What wonderful news! I certainly will be visiting you again, Mr. S... Genji!"

The young man smiles and takes one last glance at the omnic before leaving. Did the dots on his forehead always glow so bright? Ah, well. No use in puzzling over it any longer.

"Goodbye, then, Zenyatta!"

"Goodbye Genji!" The last thing Zenyatta sees of him is his lime green hair and he thinks about how perfectly it fits into their colorful garden.

—

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Mondatta stands directly in front of him as he enters the room. Never has Zenyatta heard him use such words. He didn't even wait or tell the other two to leave. Or wait for Zenyatta to say something in reply.

"You brought Genji Shimada here? An heir of one of the most dangerous clans around? What were you thinking?"

"Mondatta..." his angry approach has taken him completely by surprise. Of course, he knew that Genji was no ordinary man. But he was just so friendly and understanding, so he thought he could...

"This could get us in real danger," Mondatta finishes and simply stays in front of him for a few more moments, hoping he'd realize what his actions meant.

"Mondatta. I am genuinely sorry. I did not mean to cause trouble." Now he feels like he's back in Genji's garden, getting scolded over there as well. It's always him. He's always out there, causing trouble. Maybe his original purpose was to be a troublemaker of some sort? Just some dumb omnic for people to let out their aggressions?

"Mondatta..." he tries again. "I know we should not approach dangerous clans like his. But he is not going to fink on us. He is not interested in bringing glory to his family."

"Ah, how do you know that?"

"He told me so."

Zenyatta didn't really know that. He just guessed. Genji has warned him about his family, rather than basking in their glory. The concern he showed for his family felt more forced than genuine. Zenyatta hoped he was right about him.

"What one says is not equal to what one thinks or does. You should be more careful," Mondatta utters a desperate sigh. "I would be more understanding if what you did promised to be valuable to our cause. But there is no use in filling in a member of the Shimada clan into our plans!"

"There is, actually," Zenyatta responds. "He was extremely friendly despite me being an omnic. He did not seem to have any prejudices. Maybe he can help us."

"So that is what you think." Mondatta goes back to the table and sits down. He looks down at his metal palms and tries to calm himsel. "Very well. I will not disturb you any longer. After all, there is nothing I can do to stop you. Just promise me you will be careful."

"I will. After all, I still have these," he opens the door to the cupboard where the futons are and takes out his newly-crafted orbs. Maybe Genji would have been more wary if he saw these, but even if he had, he probably wouldn't know they could be used as a weapon. Most omnics still use the same weapons humans do. Zenyatta didn't want to create a sense of mistrust in other people by carrying a common weapon, so he commissioned a metal worker to craft these. By using kinetic energy, getting hit with one of the orbs can hurt as much as a stab wound. Mondatta had been against it, of course. He wanted to use his words and only his words.

"Do not worry, they are for the rare situations in which we might need extra defense," Zenyatta had said. So far, they didn't need them once.

"Weapons are only useful as long as you take them with you," Mondatta says and pulls him out of his reverie. Zenyatta chuckles. He hasn't taken them with him very often and, as Mondatta said, thus they have failed their original purpose as weapons. But since he had no need to use them until now, he could overlook his flawed thinking.

Maybe he will take them with him for real this time. Not as arming though. Just so he can impress Genji.

—3—

Zenyatta arrives at the Shimada clan gardens at around noon. His orbs dangle loosely around his neck as he observes a small cascade at the edge of the gardens. He is fascinated by the symbolism of Japanese gardens. Though he still doesn't know much about it, he feels that every flower, every stone, every pond has its place and there's a reason for it to be at exactly this place.

"Hi," Genji greets him from behind, startling the omnic. "Gotcha!" This time, Zenyatta was too lost in his thoughts to pick up on him entering the garden.

He turns around and faces him. Now he has another chance to marvel at his particular hair color. He hasn't seen many people like him, especially not in Japan. Everyone seems so... formal and distant. But not Genji. Just looking at him leaves him smiling with happiness. If Zenyatta could smile, that is, then he would be grinning like an idiot.

"Hello, Genji!"

"What's up with those balls?" Is his first question and he moves closer to the omnic to inspect them. "Is this some hidden weapon you haven't told me about? Should I be scared?"

"Of course not," Zenyatta is impressed by his quick wits. Or he simply expects omnics to be armed. He'd rather believe the former. "I am not here to hurt you."

Genji laughs. "I figured that much out. I still wanna know what they are and why you brought them here." He touches one of them, turns it around in his hand and inspects the design of it, trying to figure out if there's any deeper meaning to it. The orbs aren't an extension of his body, so he gets no sensory input from them. Still, it feels unusual, since he's not used to having his orbs around, let alone someone else touching them.

"I bought them..." He's unsure if he should tell Genji the truth. Mondatta surely wouldn't. But then again, Mondatta doesn't know how smart Genji truly is. He would get behind it anyway, so there's no use in trying to deny it. "... As tools for self-defense. But right now, they're merely decoration."

"Is that so?" Genji asks, a smug grin forming on his face. "But you can fight with them?"

"I can fight with them, yes," Zenyatta has already given up on telling him lies or twisted stories. He's not good at such things anyway.

Genji lets go off the orb and it automatically floats back into the orbit around the omnics' neck. "So, wanna spar?" He asks without further thought.

The orbs stop in their movements and Zenyatta stares at him wordlessly.

"What?" He stares back at him with an innocent smile.

"I will not fight with you on your private estate," Zenyatta says with firmness in his voice. Playing around and having a little bit of fun is always okay with him, but he's not going to take this risk. Too many things could go wrong here, from one of them being hurt to something around the place being destroyed by accident. Also, Zenyatta has never fought against a living human being before. Sure, he's had training on how to use his orbs and even has managed to persuade some omnics to fight against him, but nothing more. He's not a worthy opponent.

"So, you're saying we can fight somewhere else?"

"N-no, that's-"

Genji shushes him and points to his right. "We have another ground just made for sparring, it's behind this building. Nothing wrong with going there."

This man is insufferable, Zenyatta thinks. He knows he's stretched his boundaries far too much and he's stretching it further with every second he spends with Genji. Despite this, Genji manages to stretch them even further, bringing them both in great danger. "What if someone sees us?"

"They won't. My family has a meeting. No time for sparring in that case," he answers, his head slightly bent and looking more like a pleading dog than the confident young man he is. Is he so... versatile around others, as well? Zenyatta wonders.

"Alright..." He agrees, the anticipation of trying something new with his newfound friend overpowering his fear of danger.

—

"It's like you're fighting with guns," Genji says to Zenyatta, still breathing heavily. He drops his stick and flops down on the ground.

"Are you okay, Genji?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he assures. "I just need a small break. I'm still made of flesh and bones."

Zenyatta chuckles. "I understand."

Maybe he was better than he thought or Genji was going easy on him. Sure, Genji has managed to hit him a few times but dodging his orbs seemed to be quite a challenge for him. And when the omnic charged his orbs at him, he could clearly see the fear written on his face. It was funny, he had to admit, to see the young man who's usually so cocky and sure of himself tremble from his strain and concentration. Since Zenyatta had no breath to run out of, he seemed perfectly calm in comparison.

"So, I guess that proves I can defend myself if I have to," Zenyatta says, this time the tone of arrogance coming from his voice.

"Yeah, if you managed to beat the great Genji Shimada, then that's definitely something you should write in your resume," Genji answers and laughs breathlessly. He still hasn't lost his self-confidence.

Genji stands up and wipes the dirt off his clothes. "Wanna try again?"

Zenyatta notices that the sun has already set. "I probably should go home soon. Maybe we can continue tomorrow?"

"Alright," Genji says. "But this time, no weapons allowed."

"I'm looking forward to it."

They walk back to the gardens entrance together, the warmth of the evening sun on their backs.

—4—

"You know, you do not have to stay with me here if you wish do to something else."

Genji chuckles as he watches him playing with Mio in his lap. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's a bit jealous. Both of Zenyatta's calm aura and of the cats' position.

"And who would protect you then?"

"I can protect myself, Genji, have you not seen?" There is this smugness in his voice again.

"Nah, I'm not concinced yet." Genji stretches himself and lies down flat on his back. He'd been at the gym for... maybe a bit too long and now he's paying for it with one hell of a muscle ache.

"Does this mean we should try again?" The cat purrs happily and Zenyatta is amazed at how fluffy its dark gray fur is. He hasn't had the chance to interact with many cats this up close and he's enjoying the new experience.

"I'm afraid not. At least not right now. I'm in no shape to fight."

"Do you need any help?" The omnic sets the cat down and gives it one last pat on its back. It looks at him and meows before flitting through the garden and disappearing behind one of the bushes.

"Uhhh..." Genji ponders and realizes he probably means giving him a massage, which is really the only way to help right now. He'd love to accept but massages usually don't end... well with him. "No thanks?"

"Please indulge me, Genji. There is something new I want to try out."

... Okay, now he's interested. What could that possibly be?

"Ah... alright." Not sure what to expect, he wants to sit up but Zenyatta gestures him to lay down again. He shifts a bit closer to him until he's right beside him, still sitting in a cross-legged position. One of his orbs wanders into his hands. He says nothing for a while and just stares at it. Before Genji's impatience gets the better of him and he can ask what he's up to, the orb starts glowing. Zenyatta lets it go and it floats to him, stopping above his chest. A yellow aura envelops the orb, making it look a bit like a small star. Genji is fascinated but now quite sure how this fancy display is going to help.

"Wh-" he starts but Zenyatta shushes him.

"Relax, Genji."

It almost feels like Zenyatta could be his new Yoga teacher, so he tries to think of it that way: slowing his breath down, laying his palms flat open on the ground and just closing his eyes. Slowly, he feels a pleasant kind of warmth entering his body and it feels like it's wrapping itself around his aching muscles, hugging every cell of his being until everything loosens up. He's not sure if his ears are playing tricks on him, but it sounds like the orb is making a quiet hum, similar to how a singing bowl would sound.

"That's it," Zenyatta says, his voice quiet and somehow, even more relaxing now.

The last time Genji has felt this relaxed was... never, probably. As minute by minute goes by, he slowly feels his relaxation turn into sleepiness, but he's had enough practice with staying awake to not give in to it.

In the end, he doesn't even need sleep for his body to regenerate, because the aching slowly ebbs away, wave after wave. It hasn't disappeared entirely, but in comparison to before it's close to non-existent.

"Now you have to tell me: how did you do that?" Genji asks, his eyes still closed but his mind back to where they are.

"It is... complicated," the omnic warns. Most people would not want to know it in detail or even if, they'd think of him as a crazy wizard, but he knows neither apply to Genji. "Basically, their powers come from kinetic energy and, to an extent, thoughts and emotions. The latter is what just happened. I focused my positive emotions and my will to heal into the orb. This means that it can work as a painkiller, tranquilizer or whatever drug you want it to be."

"So, you're like... a robot alchemist?" Genji asks with a grin on his face. He hasn't quite understood how exactly this almost magical weapon works, but he's fascinated, nonetheless.

Zenyatta chuckles. "You could say that."

"That's so amazing..." He has opened his eyes again to look at the omnic. Never before has he met someone so intriguing. "Why would I want to spend my time with anyone else?"

Zenyatta laughs again. It may have seemed like a joke, but he is dead serious. Everyone he's ever met before pales in comparison to Zenyatta.

——

"Hey Zenyatta," Genji says as they sit on one of the verandas on the clans' estate. From here, one has the best view over the town center. It's cramped with people, usually most of them would be natives, but this time around there are a lot more tourists. Including Zenyatta, of course.

"Hm?" The omnic turns his head to face him.

"Well... shouldn't we like... visit another place than this? There's a lot more to see in Hanamura than this."

"Why? I already have seen the best of it, right here."

"Wow," Genji was blushing now. None of his flings had been so dashingly smooth, even if they tried very hard. Flirting, from his experience, was more about making each other happy and horny with cheesy and nasty lines, instead of saying something really meaningful. Not that the two were flirting or anything. Yes, he has had sex with friends, but he would never do anything like that with an austere being like Zenyatta. On top of that, he's an omnic and he's never tried it with an omnic before. The idea sounds almost interesting, but... no. Zenyatta deserves better than his heightened sex drive.

"I am telling the truth. You and your home are exceptional." Zenyatta assures him, breaking though his stream of thoughts.

"But surely there's more out there we can explore. Together? Maybe?" Genji is almost intimidated by Zenyatta's earnest affection towards him. It’s not something he's used to, neither from his family nor from his friends.

Zenyatta lets his gaze drop, a gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by Genji.

"What's wrong?"

"I am afraid I cannot accompany you," the omnics voice has lost its former softness and now sounds sad, almost melancholic. "Mondatta has booked a flight and we will be leaving soon."

"Why? What? When?" Genji feels his head spinning. He curses himself for being so uncontrollably emotional, but he doesn't want to lose something so great as their bond, especially when he's only gained it for such a brief time.

"Tomorrow, he said. We will be leaving before noon. A lot of time has passed, so we will move to the next place."

"A lot of time?! It's been only... three weeks!" Genji says angrily.

"Four weeks, actually, but I did not visit your place until the second week of our stay. In any case, I fear this is goodbye for us."

"But... but..." Genji is at a loss of words. Not only because Zenyatta is leaving, but also because of his reaction. Usually he would remain cool and calm, even if something was taken from him. He had no emotional attachment to most people and things anyway. But with Zenyatta it's different. He has captivated him ever since he stepped into his garden, full of elegance and calmness. His humble and quiet demeanor slowly gave way to his actual, strong and poised self. Genji is sure he has more character than some humans, even though his personality was just... well, programmed or something.

"I am sorry, Genji. I just found it out today as well."

Neither of them say anything further. They just watch the people beneath them pass by. There are busy people, moving fast across the streets and relaxed people, slowly strolling along the shops. There are laughing people, kissing people, crying people, angry people, whatever emotion one would think of, one would find in midst these streets sooner or later. One could hope time passes slower for those not moving an inch. But the harsh reality is that every second passes for everyone the same, bringing Genji and Zenyatta closer to their departure.

"Zenyatta..." Genji says and he's not entirely sure what he even wants to say, he just wants to fill the void, to prevent himself from crying, to ...

He throws his arms around the omnic and takes a deep breath in, hoping to catch a unique scent he can remember. Of course, there's nothing, just the faint scent of the blooming flowers in his garden. A quiet wail leaves him, a sound so unusual from him, for no one to hear. Except maybe Zenyatta, who puts his arms around him too and strokes along his back. Many minutes pass until Genji tries to regain his composure by focusing on the only small hope left. He moves back and looks at Zenyatta's faceplate, still so freshly new, having seen no real combat so far.

"Promise me, Zenyatta..." He starts, tears still trapped in his eyes. The omnic finishes his sentence for him.

"I promise we will meet again. Someday. I promise, Genji."

Genji nods and lets himself fall into his arms again. He focuses on every sensation until his mind goes blank and he falls asleep, the sky above them already dark. Zenyatta lifts him up and brings him to what he figured is his room and tugs him in. He steals one last glance of the moonlight shining on his handsome face before he quickly leaves the estate through the gardens and with that, leaves Genji – for a long time.

—5—

He hasn't seen snow in a long time. Wherever he was with his Blackwatch teammates, there was never any snow. Just scorching heat, sifting through his armor and into his body. Or rather, what was left of it. Then again, maybe it wasn't that hot, and the pain was in reality just phantom pain. He couldn't distinguish the kinds of pain he felt anymore. It was just one big bulk of misery. He was just one big bulk of misery.

The snowflakes fall softly on his armor, creating little dark spots around. Genji looks up and tries to remember the last time he saw snow but fails to do so. Surely, it must have been before his death. That's why its memory is blurred. Just as almost everything else that happened before his death. Sure, he remembers who and where he was back in those days. He remembers his parents, his brother, his training. His room. His favorite restaurant. His favorite spot in the Shimada clan's gardens. But everything else is... wrapped in a huge fog. There were so many things he'd liked, so many things he'd wanted to see, but all of them died with him on that day.

"Ah. Why am I thinking about this again? Nothing’s there," he says to himself and walks further up the mountain. He isn't even entirely sure where he is. A few weeks ago, he just fled, and ran, and ran, and ran, until he completely lost track of time and space. Since his guts were metal tubes now, he had no problem with missing out on so many meals. But now, with the air getting colder and thinner, he feels his strength slowly but surely give out. Hopefully, I'll find a village soon, he thinks and just as he finishes thinking that sentence, he starts to make out something resembling houses in the distance. Either fata morganas are possible in mountain regions, or he's just gotten extremely lucky. In any case, he walks further to investigate, even though his legs feel leaden. Something else, like some kind of outer force, is pulling him forwards to the small village ahead.

—

As soon as he finally arrived in the settlement, he sat down in a gap between two houses, feeling his legs finally give out. He doesn't know for how long he's been sitting there, but no one took notice of him so far.

That is, until a floating omnic makes its way over to him.

"Greetings, my friend. Are you okay?" He asks.

Genji feels too weak to talk. He even feels too weak to move his head upwards to face the omnic. So, instead, he just grumbles in response.

"Can I help you? I see great tumolt in your soul."

Genji's heart beats faster at that, though he's not sure why. Maybe because someone is offering him help? That hasn't happened in years. Still, he shakes his head. What burdens him is not something that can be fixed with a warm meal and a fluffy blanket. So, no thanks.

"Are you sure? I do not want anything to happen to you."

A small orb lands beside his head and starts glowing in a light-yellow color. His head moves up to look at the omnic.

"What... the hell?" He says out loud.

"This will give you some strength for the time being," the omnic explains.

"I do not need any of your strength," Genji claims in an annoyed tone.

"You certainly do look like you need it, though. Please, let me help you."

"As if I'd want help from someone like you!" Genji reaches for his sword but is stopped by his missing energy. The weakness in his body surpasses every of his thoughts and emotions and he can do nothing but to succumb to it.

"What do you have to offer and what do I have to pay for it?" He asks. It's a phrase he's memorized by now from all of the times his missions required him to gather information.

"I offer you shelter and peace in body and mind and you have to pay nothing for it," the omnic answers, going down on his knees to watch him more closely.

How strange. No fight? Not even some bargaining? If somebody offers something, they have to want something. That's how the world works, Genji thinks.

Just trust him, a small voice in the back of his head says, one that's getting louder and louder while the others have slowly quieted down. The orb still hangs beside his head. He touches it and feels warmth, but not the hurting kind of warmth. It's a nice, familiar warmth. One he doesn't want to let go of.

"May I ask for your name?"

"I'm Genji," he tells him without hesitation, the small voice in head finally winning. "And you are...?"

"My name is Tekharta Zenyatta. I am glad we got to meet each other." He stands up again and the glowing orb sends out a small pulse of warmth which goes right through his armor and into his heart. His body still feels drained, but at least his legs don’t feel like they’re dying anymore.

"Me too," he answers and stands up as well, treading after the omnic and deeper into the mountains.

He's going to see a lot more snow from now on.

#genyatta #my writings #i actually had a lot of fun while writing this !#mine #fanfiction

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ograndebatata · 4 years

Text

After The Storm

So... if I had to guess, this must be some sort of very absurd record.

Explaining a bit better what I mean, I wrote this for the weekly challenge in the EoA Discord server, for the prompts ‘Future’ and ‘Dancing’.

Needless to say, it’s beyond late, and I honestly don’t know how well it meets either of those prompts.

But I liked it enough to want to finish it and post it... so here it is.

I hope you like it.

Note: Like the bulk of my Elena of Avalor fics, this one is set in my Tales of the Ever Realm AU. However, in this particular fic, I feel there isn’t anything glaringly incompatible with canon, so I think it can be read blind ‘fairly well’. Again, I tried my best to make it strong enough to stand on its own, but readers will tell me if I succeeded.

Note #2: I don’t own the lyrics to the song ‘Once Upon a Dream’ used below. They belong to their respective creators, just as the Elena of Avalor main universe and any elements you recognize from it belong to their respective creators.

With this said, please check below the cut for the actual ficlet.

///

After The Storm

In the Kingdom of Aravallia, February 19th, Year 9147 of the Ever Realm Calendar...

Trying to hold back the concerned frown that tugged at his face, Fiero strode fluidly through the beach’s wet sand, his tamborita thrust out before him as it sent an invisible magical ripple across the sand to clear a trail through the leaves and twigs and other bits of litter that had been blown across the sand by the previous night’s weather. Some might call him squeamish, but he wasn’t in the mood to keep flinching whenever he stepped on something sharp with bare feet, and the only other person around to see what he was doing wouldn’t think poorly of him if she saw him.

Which she didn’t. Because she wasn’t facing him. Like she had been about half an hour ago, Gracia was staring into the horizon as she stood by the water’s edge, her long black hair flowing in the wind, the pink wrap and yellow sundress she wore contrasting against her dark skin as they undulated around her, the dress' hem swaying around her legs and flapping against her tamborita, which she held in her left hand.

From a distance, she’d seem alright to a casual observer. But Fiero had always been perceptive. Even two years ago, when he first met Gracia, he had been able to tell she was different from all other malvagos he had met. If he had seen her like this back then, he would have been able to tell how sad she was in the way her head hung slightly, in the edge of a slump to her shoulders. Now that he and Gracia had grown so close, had learned to read each other like written pages, she wouldn’t be able to trick him even if she wanted to, just like he knew he knew was true with him regarding her.

Of course, neither would try it by now. Even before they had come to an understanding, they had barely been able to treat each other like threats. Now that they had grown so close, neither would even consider trying anything underhanded towards the other.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Gracia’s shoulders briefly rose, then dropped again, her body shuddering in what seemed like a deep sigh. Again, Fiero’s face itched to shift into a concerned frown, joined by a weight in his chest and a shiver that washed over him as the wind briefly picked up, no doubt aided by the large cloud that kept blocking the sun, even though most of the others had cleared away to reveal a pristine morning sky.

Perhaps leaving her alone while I made breakfast wasn't the best idea. He thought.

A slight pang sank into his heart at the thought. He had meant well when he did so - he’d only wanted to give her a warm meal to enjoy when she came back - but now that she had stayed outside for so long, not to mention wearing only a dress in this weather, he started to get worried. While he did want to respect the fact she might want to be alone, he also didn’t want to leave her in pain without trying to comfort her. He knew from personal experience that having no support when one was in pain was not pleasant.

To put it mildly. He thought, the old scars from all the times that had happened to him briefly flaring up.

The breeze picked up around him, stronger, chillier, sending a second shiver through him before it settled down again. No doubt, his white t-shirt and light grey trousers weren’t the best outfit to shield him from this weather, especially with the latter pulled up to mid-calf. Gracia had to be feeling it even more, standing barefoot in the surf with the occasional wave washing over her feet and ankles, but she didn’t even flinch. Either she withstood it better than him, or she was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t even notice.

Yes, she had her wrap over her dress, and could use her tamborita to cast a spell to warm herself if she needed, and even without it she was powerful and skilled enough to use her magic to do so. But still, he couldn't help but worry.

Don't be like that. He told himself. She's an adult woman who's about as powerful a malvago as you. She can take care of herself.

His concern didn't fade. He knew that was all true, and he also knew he couldn't be consumed by worry all the time, but he couldn't just not worry to any degree, especially when he knew she was hurting.

The ground under his feet suddenly became even colder, an edge of actual wetness meeting his skin as he stepped onto the sand by the water's edge. He lowered his tamborita and retracted his magic; there was no litter to clear away here. The weight in his chest grew as he got a close look at Gracia, clutching her wrap to her with her right hand, the pain and sadness she emanated ever more visible, as if he was approaching a campfire.

In a way, it was expected, for lack of a better term. Gracia was only human, and life hadn’t been kind to her recently. But it being expected didn’t make him feel better. The idea of her being in pain cut him up inside like a row of knives. Gracia had already been dealt far too much suffering; she didn’t need any more.

And yet, life kept giving her further helpings of it.

It’s not fair. Fiero thought, pain cutting through his heart as he finally got close enough to see her violet eyes, glistening with unshed tears. It’s just not fair.

The urge to rush over and wrap his arms around Gracia came over him. He pushed it back and stopped, then cleared his throat, careful to be loud enough to be heard over a distance.

She started as if she was coming out of a trance, her tamborita swaying slightly with her movement.

“Fiero?” she asked as she turned to face him, showing him that, instead of the heavier makeup she wore with her malvaga outfit, she had chosen a more subdued look to go with the sundress. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up when I left?”

Before he could answer, she blinked, her eyes briefly widening. He guessed she had somehow noticed how much time had passed. So whether she’d noticed the chill or not, she had indeed been lost in her thoughts.

The concerned frown pulled at his face yet again. Pushing it back, he smiled, closed the gap between them.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t,” he reassured, running the backs of his fingers from her cheekbone to her chin. “And even if you had, you wouldn’t need to apologize,” he added as he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

He said nothing else as he slid his hand away from her ear, cupping Gracia’s cheek. A hint of light returned to her eyes, her lips curling upwards as he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb. Then, she stepped closer to him, stretching up a bit. Mirroring her motion, Fiero leaned down, his lips meeting hers, their mouths lingering together before they drew apart.

Then, as he straightened himself, her nose scrunched up, her right eyebrow arching.

The shift in expression working as well as a verbal question, Fiero explained. “Breakfast is ready.”

Her eyebrow arched another fraction, her nose scrunching up again. “What is it?”

“Misto quente,” he replied, caressing her cheek again. “Your favorite.” His need to be specific protesting in the back of his mind, he added, “It’s a bit different from the one made in Paraiso, but it's the best I could do with what’s sold in Aravallia.”

Her smile widened slightly.

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

Despite her words, she made no move to walk back to their cottage, or any kind of move, other than letting her mouth fall back into a frown.

The weight on his chest seeming to turn into a crack on his heart, Fiero moved his hand down and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. For a moment, her eyebrows knit together as if she was deciding what to do. Then magic flowed out of her right hand and into her wrap, two of its corners twistingly themselves together into a knot. Once the garment was secure around her shoulders, she switched her tamborita to her right hand and settled her left arm around his back. Wordlessly, Fiero drew her into him, her full figure settling against his lean profile as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

A wave washed over their feet. Fiero flinched in surprise, but no shiver came over him, the water somehow warmer than the air.

“If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen to every word,” he whispered into her hair.

Her left arm curled around his torso, her cheek shifting with her deepening frown, the change conveyed even through his t-shirt.

“Is there really anything I can say?” she murmured, snuggling her cheek into his shoulder.

He kissed her hair. “I understand if there isn't."

She curled her fingers more tightly over his side, a long exhale mixed with a pained whimper flowing from her. Again, Fiero kissed her hair. A softer, calmer sigh flowed from her, her form relaxing slightly against his’.

For a while, they stood in silence, the quietude broken only by the hushed murmurs of the breaking waves and the occasional caws of seabirds.

Then, Gracia found her voice.

“I suppose there really isn’t anything to say.” She took a breath, the sound telling Fiero she was either considering if there was anything to say after all or if she wanted to say it to begin with. “I just… I'm just still having trouble taking it all in. I’ve known my family was not very family-like for a long time, but that it has people who would go as far as they did…” She fell silent, her fingers loosening against him. “It's just... difficult to deal with.”

Fiero didn’t say anything. He simply kept his arm around Gracia’s shoulders.

“I admit that, in a sense, it shouldn’t be so shocking,” Gracia went on. “I’ve been a malvaga for over seventeen years. And I've met plenty of rotten people even before I was a malvaga. And I’ve seen my share of families who don’t act like families at all. And yet…”

She trailed off, briefly tensing up against him as if forcefully holding back the memories of the unpleasant discovery she had made. Fiero drew her even further into him, his other hand curling more tightly around his tamborita’s handle.

“I’m sorry you got such a short end of the stick when it comes to family,” he breathed. “And that you learned what those four are like in the way you did.”

Again, she curled her fingers over his side, her left hand running up and down his ribcage. “Don’t be. It’s better that I got to know. At least now I definitely won’t hold any illusions that things could have been different. Not with the four of them anyway.” She paused again, a shaky breath flowing out of her. “Still…”

Again, the words died in her mouth, her hand loosening again. Another wave washed over their feet, covering them up to their ankles. This time, it was followed by another stronger gust of chilly wind, the ambience around them darkening a fraction, as if the weather itself had decided to try and make them shiver. Neither of them blinked.

“You don’t need to explain,” Fiero soothed. He slid his hand from her shoulders and caressed up and down her back. “These things are always difficult to deal with. Especially when they happen to us personally.”

Again, Gracia didn’t give a verbal response, but the way she leaned against him, tired and drained while at the same time tense, spoke for her well enough.

“I can’t help but be shocked also,” he went on. “I’ve been a malvago for almost thirty years, I ran into plenty of nasty bastards even when I was a wizard, and I got to see firsthand how charming your family is, even before everything happened. Still, to learn what those four wanted to do to you...”

He cut himself off, an invisible foot suddenly kicking him. He’d gone more than far enough.

“Point is, if I feel like this, I can only imagine how you feel,” he finished.

Another deep, tired sigh flowed out of Gracia’s mouth. Then, he felt her shifting against him as her cheek left his chest and her arm pulled away from him. Looking down, his green eyes met her violet ones, the crack in his heart growing at the sheer pain within them.

“You know the worst part?”

Fiero curled his eyebrow in a silent question.

A briefer tired breath leaving her mouth, she replied, “On how I said it shouldn't be so shocking… In a way, it actually isn't shocking at all, considering what they have always been like. Looking back on it, the writing was always on the wall. I really should have known their natures from the beginning, rather than held any hopes about them.”

Another sigh crawled out of her, slow and heavy as if she was trying to exhale wet clay. Pain flared up in his chest as if both halves of his heart were being pushed apart. A lump started to settle in the back of his throat. He gulped to force it back, curled his arm more tightly around Gracia as he kissed her hair again.

“Don’t blame yourself,” he whispered. “ It’s not on you.”

Her gaze shifted towards the sand at his words, self-reproach all too plain in her eyes. The pain in his own chest throbbed harder. A wave ran over their feet once more.

"Please, look at me,” Fiero begged, his voice thick from the effort he was making to keep it calm and soothing, rather than filled with all the anger he felt towards Gracia’s so-called family.

Slowly, Gracia’s eyes turned up to his, pain roiling in their depths more intensely than ever before, just as the landscape around them seemed to grow darker once more, as if a thicker layer of cloud cover had just gotten before the sun. Carefully, Fiero brought his other hand up and, stretching his fingers as well as he could without losing his grip on his tamborita, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s not on you,” he repeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You tried to follow their values as well as you could without compromising your own, you tried to step into their shoes time and again, you tried to give them the benefit of doubt multiple times, to believe there could be a sliver of kindness hidden deep within them, to help them when they needed even though they never showed a sliver of gratitude for, and yet all of them treated you like dirt.”

A reminder flaring in the back of his mind, he added as he lowered his hand, “Well, almost all. But most of them treated you like dirt. And those four monsters actually started plotting to have you killed just so they’d get their hands on your money. And yet when their plot was discovered, they tried to beg for mercy by appealing to the fact they’re family!”

He winced as he suddenly realized his voice had started to slip into a shout. He knew Gracia knew him well enough to understand he wasn’t angry at her, but he still didn’t want to further upset her by raising his voice.

Nevertheless, he seemed to have built up enough bile that he couldn’t avoid rolling his eyes and adding, “It’s beyond belief. They try to frame you for murder so you’ll be hanged and then say they’re family the moment they realize you found out their plot.” A sharp scoff blasted out of him. “Family, my…” Catching himself as he realized the word he was about to utter, he said instead, blood rushing to his cheeks, “Well, my that certain body part which is located on the side directly opposite to my front side, on the region right below my waist.”

A bout of laughter bubbled out of Gracia, a happy glow blooming in her eyes. Though his cheeks kept blazing, Fiero smiled at the sound, feeling every muscle in his body loosening from it.

“Are you sure your phrasing was verbose enough?” Gracia drawled once her laughter faded, her smooth contralto a fraction deeper and huskier than usual. “You might have been able to add two or three more sentences to that description.”

Unsure of what to say, Fiero could only shrug, though none of the defensiveness from his youth flared up within him. With Gracia, he always knew that when she teased him or poked fun at him, she did not mean to offend or hurt him.

“Well, what I said was specific enough already, I figure,” he said in an affected nonchalant tone, the red in his cheeks fading.

A mirthful spark in her eyes, her smirk shifted into a tender smile as she briefly curled her fingers around his side again, running a brief caress over his ribs.

His voice calmer, Fiero went on, “Point is, they were just rotten, period. And they were beyond lucky that they not only lived to see another day but didn't even end up in prison. If they still want to be dirtbags rather than try to better themselves, it’s on them, not on you.”

Gracia’s smirk returned, though this time it didn’t reach her eyes. Knowing what was on her mind, he added, an edge of tension creeping into his voice, “Not those four in particular. 'Greedy heartless monsters' would be more appropriate for them. 'Dirtbags' is a label for your other relatives.” The same reminder from before flaring up again, he added, “Other than Esha and Anjali and Lavanya. And their husbands and children, as far as I can tell. But that still leaves literal dozens of people in your family who are…”

This time, he was the one trailing off, his mind drawing a blank on a word good enough to refer to the kind of people most of Gracia’s relatives were. Still, her arm slipped down to his waist as her face fell.

“I know.”

The weight over his heart returning, Fiero pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

He knew he was repeating himself, but he meant what he said now as much as he did before.

He felt her face leaning away from his shoulder, though her arm moved up to rest over his ribs once more. He looked down; their gazes met again.

“It's alright,” she replied. “You did nothing wrong either. You don't need to apologize.”

A long sigh washed out of him. He drew her back into him, as she let her head rest on his shoulder again.

"I only wish I could actually do something about this."

///

Hearing the sorrow in his voice, Gracia leaned up and put a kiss to Fiero's cheek, briefly pressing her hand to his side as she did so, feeling the breeze blowing over them both.

She knew he meant what he said, but she'd never dream of asking him to do more than he already did.

He looked out for her well being, he tried to help her to the best of his abilities, he listened to her when she wanted to talk, he always respected her boundaries, and he was there for her.

That was all she could ask him to do.

She knew him wanting to do more for her meant that he cared, but she also knew that there were things he just could not do. All magic had its limits, and malvago magic in particular was very limited when it came to things unrelated to destruction. Having been a malvaga for as long as she had, Gracia knew that from personal experience. And even ignoring those limits, there were lines that no person with a sliver of decency and humanity crossed, and Fiero had much more than a sliver of either.

It was more than she could say of many people she had met, including some who claimed to be paragons of virtue, only to turn out nastier than some fairy tale villains.

Like ‘those four’ as Fiero had labeled them. They claimed to walk the path of righteousness, to follow the values of old, and then they had tried to have her killed, and for such a mercenary reason to boot.

Not that any reason would have been good, but doing it only because they wanted her money to add it to their very much not-paltry fortune… It was just… it was just beyond low.

Don’t think about that anymore. An inner voice tried to insist. It’s not worth it. They're not worth it.

A knot materializing in her chest at the thought, she took a deep breath, mentally pushing back the remains of the whirlwind within her as if the air she took in would do the job. Not thinking about them was easier said than done, especially after what they had done to her.

Having taken the deepest breath she could, she released, willing herself to let it out calm and slow, yet with purposefulness flowing through her. As the air rushed out of her, Fiero rubbed his shoulder over her wrap, pressing his lips to her hair once more, his embrace tightening a bit again.

‘It's alright.’ She read in his touch, even through the fabric. ‘Take all the time you need.’

Turning her head slightly upwards once more, she gave him another smile. The corners of his mouth curled upwards in response as he rubbed another circle over her shoulder.

Her smile widening, she closed her eyes as she took another breath, slightly faster and shallower than the last, but still allowing the salty air to flow into her lungs, to mentally will what she could only call its ‘calming essence’ to flow through her being. Just as she let it out, the breeze around her softened, grew warmer, everything around them and their own bodies seeming to lighten a few shades, the sun finally peeking through the clouds. Another wave washed up the beach, moving past them until it rose past their ankles. Then, as it retreated, it seemed to take yet another bit of her inner turmoil with her, the knot in her chest softening further.

A small sigh trickling out of her, Gracia nestled her head into Fiero’s shoulder, pressing her hand to his side once. Thinking about something else might be easier said than done, but it was better to do it than dwell on what those four had done just for the sake of it. And a good way to start thinking about something else was to start talking about something else.

Fortunately, while enjoying each other's company in silence was not a problem for them, finding things to talk about wasn't either.

Her gaze met his’ as she spoke up.

“Speaking of doing, is there anything you'd like to do once we get to Bansagubat? Other than following up on the lead we found on the Scepter of Night, I mean?”

He blinked at her question, confusion flickering in his gaze. She knew without having to ask that he'd found her change of subject sudden. But she also knew that he'd go along with it as long as her attempt at not dwelling on the recent events didn't fail.

Sure enough, his brow furrowed into the focused look he often assumed when he was in deep thought, though he didn't bring up his left hand to hold its thumb and forefinger to his chin, due to the tamborita he held.

“I don't think so,” he replied after some time. “At least for now. I don't know enough about Bansagubat to have an idea of what to do there.” He cocked his head to the side, curling an eyebrow. “What about you, mi alma? Is there anything you'd like to do?"

He punctuated his second question with a knowing grin, telling her he'd guessed the basics of her answer.

Gracia smirked in response. He did know her well...

“Indeed there is, mi amado,” she replied, her voice a fraction lower and slower again.

His knowing grin widened a fraction.

"Any chance I can know exactly what it is?"

Gracia started opening her mouth to reply, but the teasing tune she was mustering faded like a snuffed candle as she realized a few things.

"I'd tell you if I knew, but I'm not sure yet myself. It will depend on how long we stay there, and on where we have to go to find our next clue, if it even exists to begin with."

Her eyes narrowed into a glare at the thought, Fiero's expression mirroring hers, both recalling how many fake clues on the Scepter of Night’s whereabouts there seemed to exist throughout the world.

“But there are quite a few dancing festivals in Bansagubat, at many places and at many times of the year," Gracia went on before her mind could start wandering down another bad path. "I’d like to be able to go to a few. Or then take a few classes on the local dances, if I find any. Maybe do both things, if we find the time.”

Her chest seemed to grow lighter as she went on, a familiar giddiness rushing through her at that line of thought. She had only been to Bansagubat once, and the stay had been too brief for her to do much of anything, but she had read about the kingdom, and, more relevantly to her tastes, about its dances. It was true that seeing drawings and reading descriptions on the written page didn’t compare to the real thing by any means, but the authors had been good enough that she could join the picture and the text to somewhat visualize what the real dances were like. And even if she hadn’t, she had always liked learning new dances, and Bansagubat had plenty that she wanted to learn.

A faint shift in Fiero’s face brought her back to reality - his knowing grin had become a fond one, no doubt at the view of the joy she felt bubbling within her and which she now realized had spilled over onto her features.

That was one of the things she loved about him. While she knew he didn’t hate dancing per se, she also knew he wasn’t particularly fond of it. But he still wholeheartedly loved seeing her so happy doing something she loved, and was genuinely happy to do it with her just because it made her happy.

“I don’t see us staying at Bansagubat for less than several months,” he said. “I think we’ll find the time for that." He pursed his lips shut, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Or, if you’d rather I did so, I can also read up on Tolome’s treasure on my own while you have your dance classes and we read up on it together whenever you’re not in class or practicing.”

He winced right after he spoke, as if he thought he’d just put his foot in his mouth with his suggestion. Giving him a comforting smile, Gracia shifted around so that she now stood before him, her hand flowing from around his back to rest on his shoulder, on cue with another wave washing over their feet. The landscape seemed to grow a few more shades around them, though this time the breeze strengthened for a moment, as if unsure of whether to let up or intensify.

“I get what you mean,” she told him. “And I don’t mind going to classes for some of those dances on my own. But we find classes for some others, I confess I was hoping you’d come with me.” Suddenly afraid of how her words might be taken, she added, “But I will accept if you don’t.”

She punctuated her sentence with a calm smile to reinforce her words, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. She would indeed like it if Fiero went to classes for those specific dances with her, but she wouldn’t try to force him to if he really didn’t want to. Even before her time with her family, she knew how awful it was to be forced into things one didn’t want to do.

At first, Fiero’s forehead crinkled in puzzlement. Gracia knew without asking that he was wondering what kind of dances she might want him to go along on. But then, his warm smile returned as he raised his now free hand to rest it on her cheek, running a slow, tender caress over it.

“I’ll go with you,” he whispered. “Whatever the kind of dances you’re talking about, as long as you want me to go with you, I will.”

Gracia’s smile widened a bit further, her whole being suddenly lightening. It might be the kind of line too easily uttered, but again, she knew just from his tone and expression that Fiero was doing it willingly, because he knew it would make her happy. The fact he hadn’t even asked what dances she was talking about only reinforced it.

She snapped out of her thoughts as a hint of a scowl returned to Fiero’s face, as if something had just reminded him of an unpleasant memory.

A frown replacing her smile, she asked, "What’s the matter?"

Putting his smile back in place, Fiero reached down and held her hand in his’, raising it up until it was level with their chests.

“Nothing serious,” he soothed. “Just a few bad memories of the last time I had dance classes.”

Gracia’s eyes opened a bit wider, a mix of amazement and realization pricking at her.

“So you did have dance classes…” Again reading a silent question in Fiero’s face, she explained, “I thought you had them from the first time I danced with you. You danced far too well to be a novice. But I confess it does seem a bit surprising.”

His own smile still in place, he briefly squeezed her hand more tightly.

“I know. I didn’t ever think I’d have dance classes before I started them either. Dancing was never among my top-favorite activities until we started seeing one another.” Again wincing right after his sentence, he added, “Not that I ever hated it, but…”

He trailed off, unease creeping up into his eyes. Smiling again, Gracia rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb.

“I understand. I liked learning magic well enough when I was younger, but I didn’t throw myself into it until I became a malvaga.” Feeling the shadow of more unpleasant memories starting to creep over her, she went on before they could settle in. “Though now I’m curious on why you had dance classes if you didn’t particularly like dancing.”

Fiero’s shoulders dropped at the question. This time, a sigh actually flowed out of him, his hand slipping off of hers. Gracia knew without having to ask that whatever he was recalling, it was not pleasant.

But before she could tell him he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to, he explained, “I felt I should when I started training to be the Royal Wizard of Avalor.”

Gracia’s eyes opened a fraction wider.

“What does dancing have to do with being a Royal Wizard?”

He sighed again.

“Nothing. But I wanted to destroy any possible grounds for criticism. They included failing to mingle and dance during formal events. So besides studying up on all the magic I could, I started learning other things I thought would help me for when I became Royal Wizard. Ballroom dancing was one of them. I was never actually tested on that during my so-called exam, but I guess that’s just as well, because my instructor said that if I didn’t get rid of the snake-like edge to my movements, I’d always be a lost cause.”

Gracia’s face hardened, her eyebrows settling into a straight line, her blood suddenly warmer.

She already knew enough about Fiero’s time trying to be the Royal Wizard to be angry on his behalf at pretty much everyone involved, but it still seemed that the more she learned, the more reasons she found to be angry. It still didn’t excuse what he had ended up doing, of course, but Fiero himself had always acknowledged such a fact whenever they talked about it, and just because she didn’t excuse the way he had snapped it didn’t mean she couldn’t feel sorry for him. As personally motivated as he might have been to a degree, Gracia knew Fiero had also wanted the post because he wanted to help people. Yet, it just kept turning out that more and more people involved in the game were against him, and for all sorts of nonsensical reasons at that.

And to think people from Paraiso were seen by Avalorans as high and mighty jerks, more shallow and vain than parrots! If she ever got to meet those particular Avalorans, she’d certainly have a few choice words for them on that matter.

But most of them were dead anyway, and if they hadn’t been able to recognize Fiero’s worth before, her ripping them a new one wouldn’t do anything on that front. Not to mention that, unfortunately in every sense of the word, Fiero couldn't be a Royal Wizard anyway. Malvagos couldn’t be Royal Wizards because of the limits to their magic, and once wizards became malvagos, there was no way for them to be wizards again.

Some of her anger drained away by her inner tirade, she willed the remainder back into the depths of her being. Then, smiling at him once more, she held his hand and raised it, this time rubbing her thumb over his palm.

“Well, take this from someone who danced since she was three and was a professional dancer for over thirteen years.” She paused for a moment longer, until Fiero’s gaze was locked on hers. “You’re better than some of my dance partners, and I’m talking of people who danced for a living. And that’s a fact as far as I’m concerned.” She paused again, this time to make sure her sentences sank in. “But even if it wasn’t, there are only two rules that one needs to follow when dancing.”

Fiero’s lips parted slightly, in a clear relay of his amazement.

“Really?” he whispered.

“Well, not if you’re doing it professionally,” Gracia admitted. “Then the audience will expect nothing but the best, and in a competition in particular, the judges tend to have a mile-long list of standards, and failing to meet even half of them will rob you of any chance.” She released his hand, then rested her own on his cheek. “But when you’re dancing for fun, there are only two things that need to be done. To dance from the heart, and to choose a partner you like dancing with and who likes dancing with you.”

His smile returned at her words. Warmth again enveloped her hand as he put it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles as he finished, his moustache tickling her skin.

“As long as I’m dancing with you, none of those things will ever come into question.”

“Likewise,” she replied as Fiero straightened himself, their gazes meeting again.

And that was all either needed to say on the matter, their eyes telling each other everything else they needed to know as the breeze flowed around them, a wave again trickling over their feet and then pulling back.

Then, slowly, like a spark spreading across kindling, sunlight spread across the whole landscape, a warmth seeping into their surroundings, the breeze settling down even further until it merely ghosted over them, like the settings in the kind of fairy tale moments common in the ballets Gracia had performed in.

She knew this one was entirely natural and just a lucky coincidence, but she was more than happy to go with it.

"Dance with me?" she requested, squeezing Fiero’s hand.

He squeezed hers in return, his eyes twinkling.

"Of course, mi alma."

Her chest fluttering, Gracia slowly withdrew her hand from his’, then raised it until it was before the knot in her wrap.

“Let’s get ready then,” she said.

With those words, she channelled magic into the garment around her shoulders, her signature purplish-pink tone surging around it. As fluidly as a liquid, the wrap untied itself loose and then slid through the air until it hovered before her, folding itself into a neat rectangle. Once it finished, Fiero raised his own hand, sending magic forth as the glow around the bundle shifted from purplish-pink to a different violet shade. Retracting her own magic, Gracia raised her tamborita and aimed it at the wrap, landing a firm, but subdued smack on the drum. A purplish-pink glow bloomed around it, and the next instant, the folded cloth shimmered out of view with a hushed poof, teleported into what she knew was its proper place in its drawer.

That part of the task done, Gracia again channeled magic into her tamborita, purplish-pink sparks surging around its handle and drum with a faint hiss. Lowering the hand he’d been holding up, Fiero raised his tamborita to hers, violet sparks erupting from it. Then, as they put their tamboritas’ drums together, the sparks fused into bigger, brighter bolts of their shades blended together, a loud crackle lashing forth as their magic joined, finishing the protective spell that would safeguard their tamboritas.

After holding the drum wands in place for a few seconds, Fiero and Gracia released them and, with a sweeping motion of their arms as coordinated as a dance step, sent them floating about thirty feet away, where they sank vertically into the sand. The bolts around them faded, but the tamboritas remained together as if glued, standing under their own power like two swords stuck on the same stone.

Their preparations complete, Fiero put an arm across his chest and bowed, while she curtsied in her sundress as formally as she would in a ballgown. Their gazes locked again, both stepped towards each other, her left hand resting on his shoulder while his right one settled on her waist, their other hands interlacing together. A familiar thrill bursting through her as she felt Fiero’s hand pressing to her left, she went along with the movement of his spin, her hair fanning out as she circled her way around him. A faint splash reached her ears as she stopped, but she barely noticed it as he released her waist and raised their entwined hands above their heads. Following the cue, she twirled in her spot and then put her hand back to his shoulder while his’ settled on her waist again. Her smile growing even wider, she pressed slightly into Fiero’s shoulder to convey what she wanted him to do; he followed along and spun to the left once more with her in his arms, though this time she tightened the circle as she walked around him. In perfect tune with her movement, Fiero stepped back, the two of them falling into their rhythm of steps and twirls and circles, the warm sun shining down on them.

Reminded of a similar setup in a ballet she had once performed in - and in a musical version of the same story that she had gone to on her fourth date with Fiero - Gracia started humming a familiar tune under her breath, setting their steps to it.

Again, Fiero curled an eyebrow even as he settled into her cue.

“Aurora and Phillip’s Waltz?” he asked.

“Just something to set our dance to, mi amado,” she replied without slowing down. “I thought this fit us.”

And it did. In more ways than one. Between the costumes they - or at least she - had been wearing on the night they actually started their romantic relationship, the dreams they’d both had on the same night not long before that occasion, and the musical adaptation of The Tale of Sleeping Beauty they had watched on their fourth date, she thought that the song fit them. Not to mention she had always liked it since she was a child, even if Princess Aurora’s tale had never been her top favorite.

For a moment, Fiero narrowed his eyes, his look out of focus as if he was thinking of something. Then, he pressed his lips together as if gathering himself, and sent a warm tingle flowing into the thrill shooting through her as he began singing.

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

Not missing a beat, Gracia joined in.

I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

He pulled her just a bit closer as both sang the next verses.

Yet I know it’s true That visions are seldom all they seem

Their voices soared as they moved into the chorus, the breeze briefly picking up again, but not slowing them down in the least as they swept across the beach.

But if I know you I know what you’ll do You’ll love me at once The way you did once upon a dream

#elena of avalor #fanfic #fiero #gracia #tales of the ever realm au #fiero x oc #fluff #romance #I hope you like it

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mysmedrabbles · 5 years

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Another Place [Yoosung Kim]

from the Fourth Wall breaking series

quote contributors: 2 anons and @thedujifuji (submissions bolded, will not be posting the actual asks)

a/n: welcome back to hell i’ll be your tour guide,, finally posting these after only 19 years!! Hope you guys enjoy!

warnings: big sad

-7th wall mod alex

It was the late night chats that were always the loneliest. Staring up into the bleak cracked ceiling, you traced the shadows cast by the moon outside with your eyes, the empty feeling filling you yet again... a void that demanded to be felt no matter the cost. It was times like these, under the cover of darkness where you were left alone with your thoughts, a yearning so deep you could swear you would unravel, leaving nothing but the shell of the person you once was.

Man this game was fucking you up.

Rolling on your side, you checked you phone, the bright light assaulting your eyes. Able to distinguish the time, you made your way to the Mystic Messenger app. Two minutes to 2 am. Ten minutes until you could sleep.

With the cheery tune of the opening screen, a smile couldn't help but find its way to your face, an almost giddy sensation filling the previous void you’d longed to be filled, an otherworldly feel as you surveyed the winnings of the latest Honey Buddha Chip package on your screen. Not much, but enough for a call perhaps? A call to a certain golden haired boy?

One more minute until the chatroom opened.

Your eyes surveyed the screen yet again, looking for something to do to pass the ever stretching seconds, when the familiar ring of a phone call echoed through your room. A call. From Yoosung. A glitch? Weren’t calls supposed to happen after chatrooms?

Without thinking you pressed answer, the smiling face the blonde avatar bore fading away as the call subtitles took its place.

“Hello?” his voice was higher than usual, almost panicked, and yet you could feel your heart flip in your chest as his voice struck you, a small bit of reality you had left. “Hello?” came Yoosungs voice again, voice cracking near the end. “Damn it, damn it.” you heard him mutter from the other end.

You expected a chatbox to pop up, to respond, but nothing came, nothing but silence as the incoherent muttering came from far away on the other end. You listened intently... would anything happen? What kind of glitch was this?

“Hel-damn it, Seven said this would work- Hello?”

Cheritz? Answer box please??

You heard a deep breath on the other end, and you could almost imagine Yoosung closing his eyes as he calmed himself, one hand gripping the table to keep himself steady as the other held his phone to his ear.

“Hello? I- MC... that’s... thats not your real name is it. I dont know... if you can hear me, I’m praying Seven could do that for me.. I-Mc-” his voice wavered dangerously, trying his best to collect himself before he continued, his voice weaker than before, “If you can hear me... please.. say something-i- let me know you’re there.”

Were you supposed to... answer? It felt silly, replying to the emptiness, saying something that would immediately be swallowed by the dark, but it also felt wrong to sit there doing nothing, waiting vainly for a chat box to appear. Maybe it was a new update.

“...Hello?”

Silence.

Just as you moved to end call, Yoosung spoke again, his voice drawn to a hush, as if he were afraid to break the fine glass line separating the two of your worlds. “You're..you’re real,” he breathed, defenses down as he himself clutched his phone desperately with both hands, pressing the device as close to his ear as he could before continuing, “I thought- that you were just a character on a screen I never- there’s so much I need to tell you, so much that-”

“Yoosung?” was all you could muster, your mind blank at the reality you were facing, until the only thing that could be heard was your heartbeat pounding in your ears, distorting the silence of your room.

“-And I don’t know how much time we- yes?”

There was so much you wanted to say to him...

“Thank you,” you started. Whether this was real or not, you weren’t going to pass up an opportunity to talk to him. The idea that this might have just been another simulation broke your heart, but these were quickly rushed away when you looked down at the continuing phone call, remembering Yoosung on the other end.

His rambling was cut by your thanks, confusing him, it was he who should be thanking you, not the other way around, he started to respond, but you beat him to it, “Yoosung I- in- in you I saw so much of myself; I was,” you took a deep breath before continuing, “so lost, wanting to move forward but so afraid to let go of the past. You showed me,” a crack in your voice as tears threatened to swallow you whole, emotions you hadn’t known you even had rising rapidly to the surface, “You showed me that it's possible to move forward even after you've lost your way. You have helped me and shown me far more kindness than anyone else ever did when I was at my lowest point and because of you I want to be a better per..son with ... every passing day.”

You finished with a flustered breath, heat suddenly rushing to your cheeks as you realized your declaration, completely our of character from your usual stoic self. This was a game. You declared your love to... someone who wasn’t even real. The shame of idiocy spread through your chest the longer he stayed silent, only his own heavy breathing heard on the other end.

Taking a second to bring himself back together, Yoosung tried to ignore the warmth spreading through his body, heart and gut synchronized in a flustered dance, both struggling to keep up with the racing of his mind. It didn’t seem real, that the person he’d inevitably loved- continued to fall in love with day after day, was real, not just a character made up by Seven, a virus in the app.

You heard a small giggle from Yoosung, making your heart soar. You could almost imagine his face, violet eyes shining with the threat of tears, blush adorning a smiling expression as he vainly tried to hide his face in his hands, too embarrassed by the way your words stripped him of rationality, touched him in a way where he’d lost all functionality, enraptured by your voice, by you.

A smile made its way onto your face as you continued, set to get everything you’d wanted to say out in the open, “You’re amazing and I just, I love you so much and I wish, I wish more guys were like you in this world. You’re so, soft, amazing, artistic, and an excellent cook? The omurice will never stop looking delicious.”

To this he finally had a response, “It was! It was delicious! If I send you the recipe will you promise to make it?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see if I can text it to you! You won't Believe the things I went through to get to this point, good thing it was worth it in the end! Being with you is always worth it..”

He was rambling, and the initial tenseness of the first meet shaken off as his infectious laughter filled the receiver, voice bright with excitement as he went on about the other recipes he tried in his spare time, the ones he’d always wanted to make one day for you... the ones he never could.

His voice started to crack, static becoming more and more prominent as his voice was broken by what? Bad cell service? The fact that you were talking across dimensions?

Yoosung could be heard getting sad, his tone dropping, a melancholic need for you filling his head, suffocating him with thoughts of you. He paused his words, starting anew. “MC I... I’m sorry I think... we’re running out of time but before I go I just... I need to tell you... gah why is this so hard.”

A pause.

“I love you... truly. You showed me kindness when there was no one who believed in me, and it’s because of your love that I’m still alive.. that I have something worth living for. Every time you play my route...” the static got worse, ripping a few words from his sentence, actively trying to separate the two of you as he went on, “...I wish I could protect you forever, make you as happy as you make me.. I wish we had more t- I wish we had more time. There’s so much I want to ask you, so much I’m sure you want to ask. Please, no matter what.. stay happy for me.”

Well...actually.. I do have one serious question for you... Yoosung Kim: does Yoosung Kim is bi?” you chuckled cautiously, a weight lifted as you heard his broken up giggle in response, and for a second you could almost believe that everything would be okay.

The static got louder, cutting in between Yoosung’s words, only fragments of a, “well - lov- ou so,- h-pe s-,” were able to be made, connection weakening, Yoosung’s presence fading away.

Tapping on the phone, where you were praying for some sort of relief, you were only met with a blank screen, his voice gone, leaving a gaping hole where he’d buried himself into your heart.

Gone.

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calligraphist-artemisia · 4 years

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Harry Potter and the Best Summer (5 | An Unwelcome Visitor)

Summary: AU - canon divergence. Harry had barely been back at the Dursley’s for two weeks, when an unexpected visitor arrived at the door. He quickly finds himself spirited away back to the wizarding world and learns some secrets that have long been kept from him.

A sequel to Of Family and Unexpected Friendship. Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune.

And for anyone who’s interested, I made a Harry Potter discord server! Introducing, Virtu Alley! (like “virtually”, get it?) Feel free to pop by and chat if you’d like. (https://discord.gg/AUq3eXY)

[Sorry for the lack of hyperlinks, but my posts have once again stopped showing up when I search for them when I include them. I will reblog later to include links at the bottom of the post.]

- - - - - - -

5 | An Unwelcome Visitor

If Harry thought his first day at Oakstone Manor was hectic, it was nothing compared to the next morning, when he awoke to a loud crash coming from the hall, quickly followed by a stream of apologies from Nymphadora Tonks (who threatened to hex him if he dared called them by their full first name) and Andromeda's much quieter admonishment.

Harry found himself grinning despite the rude awakening. It was so much better than getting woken up by Aunt Petunia.

He'd met Tonks the night before when they arrived just as dinner was being arranged on the table. The very first thought he had was that they were the embodiment of everything the Dursleys hated. Short, bright pink hair was shaved on either side of their head and the length on top was gently spiked upwards. Several piercings dotted their ears and whenever they gestured with a wild flourish Harry could see that their fingernails were painted pink to match their hair.

“Wotcher, Harry,” they said with a wink and their hair shifted from pink to purple to blue and then back again.

Harry thought they were brilliant.

Andromeda's husband – Ted Tonks – was a cheery and friendly man who engaged Harry in effortless conversation about growing up in the muggle world and how shocking it was to be thrown into the magical one. He spoke only a little of his work in the pediatric ward of St. Mungo's, instead choosing to focus on learning more about Harry, as well as catching up with everyone else.

Altogether they were the picture of a healthy, functioning family.

Morning flew by and all Harry could do was sit back out of the way and watch everyone rush around in preparation for the rest of the day. Ted was the first to leave, kissing Andromeda on the cheek before flooing away to St. Mungo's. A short while later, Tonks headed out the front door, giving an explanation that they were meeting their mentor in a secret location. Harry watched as they spun on their heel and vanished with a popping sound.

Andromeda sat them all down for lessons after that. She gave Leona and Aquarius worksheets to do and then cast a silencing charm around Harry's chair so she could verbally quiz him and help fill in any blanks in his basic knowledge. He was pleased when he remembered most of what Leona had taught him, but faltered when it came to naming other Heirs he attended school with.

From there he listened with rapt attention as Andromeda covered the current active Lords and Heirs of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, of which House Black was one.

Their studies took up the rest of the morning and it was only after lunch that Harry was saved from going back to it.

Remy went with him to St. Mungo's for his appointment, only stepping out of the room for the examination and vaccinations and returned once Harry said it was okay. He wasn't terribly surprised when his healer – Adam Rue – told him that he was undernourished and that his eyeglass prescription was out-of-date.

“I am prescribing a nutrient potion for you to take with dinner each evening. I understand you'll be going back to Hogwarts in September and I will make arrangements to inform Madam Pomfrey that you are to take one each day,” said Healer Rue.

Harry fidgeted, a little worried about his schoolmates finding out he needed potions. “Do I have to take it in the Great Hall?”

“If you truly wanted to, you could always travel down to the hospital wing each evening however, the way we typically handle potions like this is to simply charm it into your goblet so that no one else is aware. The house-elves of Hogwarts are quite talented when it comes to matters of secrecy,” Healer Rue said with a reassuring smile.

He then told Harry and Remy that they could visit the offices just down the hall to either update Harry's eyeglasses or have his vision corrected completely.

“Mr. Potter, I don't mean to make assumptions about your care growing up, however I'd also like to recommend visits with one of our mind healers for the rest of the summer,” Healer Rue told them. “If for no other reason than to ease your transition into a wizarding household. All of our mind healers are sworn to keep the secrets of their patients, but if you are still uncomfortable with speaking to someone in Britain considering your status, you could hire a private healer from overseas. I would be happy to recommend a few who I have personally worked with in the past.”

“Healer Rue, can I ask about the damage left by the Magic Block?” Remy asked.

“We have removed it, of course, and taken the time to examine the damage from the curse scar. It seems that the block prevented your magic from fully cleansing it, Mr. Potter, and now that it is gone you'll see a significant ease in using your magic. That being said, our recommendation is a minimum of two weeks before you cast any spells in order to give your core time to adjust to the influx of power. A month, if you can manage it,” said Healer Rue.

Harry nodded. It wasn't like he was allowed to use his magic during summer anyway. He was sure it would be easy to go another month without casting.

Remy asked a few more questions about Harry's health and then Healer Rue handed her the prescription for the nutrient potions, which was signed and marked with his magical seal to prove its validity, as well as a list of recommended mind healers. He then guided the two of them down the hall to the office which specialized in eye-care, stepping inside to inform the receptionist that they were there for a thorough exam.

While they waited for one of the healers to become available, Harry got the chance to browse through the different frames that were available and, at Remy's urging, tried on a few to see if he liked any.

Each one was an improvement on the cheap, circular frames the Dursley's had “graciously” given him.

Remy chuckled as she glanced over a selection of frames catering to the older crowd. “Your father was always fond of horn rims. He thought they made him look rather smart. Your mother always said it made him look like more of a ponce than he already was.”

“She really said that?” Harry asked, looking away from a pair of frames that was continually shifting colors.

“Well, at first,” Remy corrected herself. “Your father was a good man and a good friend, Harry, but as a teenager he was... well, a bit entitled. Sirius was as well. I imagine it comes from being part of an old pureblood family. It all made it so your mother was less than impressed by him which only made him try harder. He came around by our sixth year, but I'll have to tell you more about it later.”

She nodded towards something over Harry's shoulder and he turned to find a woman in soft green robes walking towards them. Her badge bore the name Healer Agatha Newmark.

“You must be Harry,” she said in a chipper tone. “I'm Aggie. You can both come with me and I'll get you sorted out.”

Harry and Remy followed her back to a smaller room, where Harry sat down in a chair that faced a poster with differently sized numbers and letters. She first had him remove his glasses and attempt to read the lowest line, which he found impossible. He couldn't fully make out any letter until the third line down, but even that was blurry enough that he struggled.

A few waves of her wand had an enchanted quill scratching out the details of his eyesight and once it finished, Healer Newmark went into detail on the options available to him. Harry could get a new pair of frames with his updated prescription, charmed unbreakable and scratch resistant for up to two years, or he could get his vision corrected completely and no longer need glasses.

“Everyone is a little different and I know just as many people who like the way they look while wearing glasses as I do people who jumped at the first opportunity to have the correction done,” said Healer Newmark. “The correction is, of course, more expensive than a pair of frames, but we do have a finance program for anyone who prefer a staggered payment.”

“Harry, it's up to you,” Remy said quietly.

He didn't think about it for long. From the moment he first heard there was a chance he wouldn't have to deal with his glasses any longer, he hoped it was true. No more crooked frames. No more feeling around for his glasses every morning. No more worry about a bludger knocking them from his face and leaving him completely blind.

“I'd like to get it corrected.”

- - - - - - -

Harry expected that they would be heading home after he was finished at St. Mungo's but instead, Remy whisked him away into wizarding London to a street near Diagon Alley named Asymetric Alley, which looked like a village out of a history book, with rough, winding cobblestone streets and old timber-framed shops all pressed close together.

It gave a cozy, warm vibe that Diagon Alley didn't have, giving the impression that loitering was welcome on the streets and stopping to chat with those you walked past was a way of life.

Harry didn't spare that more than a passing thought, too busy marveling over the clarity with which he was able to see the world. There were so many details that he hadn't been able to see before! Things that he'd come to accept as being blurry around the edges suddenly had sharp outlines and signs that he once had to squint just to read he only had to glance at and know what they said!

Remy treated him to ice cream and then they were off to visit a number of shops where Harry was asked to pick out clothing, new shoes, and then helped pick out ingredients for dinner that night so Cici could make his favorite meal. Their last stop was a used bookstore, where Remy picked up an order that was waiting for her and she encouraged him to take a look around.

Harry wasn't terribly interested until he spotted a small book titled Fallacies of the Rankings of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and after reading the back cover thought that if it turned out to be something he didn't like, Hermione was likely to find it fascinating.

He was about to turn to go when a heavy thump stopped him. When he looked, he saw a dark green book laying face-up on the floor. Swooping gold lettering informed him that it was called The Magical Court of Camelot – The Truth Behind the Legends and that it was written by someone named ML Black. He picked it up and took it to the counter.

“Aunt Remy, look at this,” he said, holding up the book for her to see.

Remy examined it with interest, her eyes lingering longest on the name of the author. “ML Black... It's not a name I'm familiar with, but it Andy might know it. Would you like to get it?”

Harry nodded. “And this one too,” he said, as he passed to her Fallacies of the Rankings of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

She seemed a bit amused by the second book but didn't say a word against it, quickly passing it off to be rung up. Remy paid for it all and even got Harry a tote bag to carry them in and then they were off once again.

“I think it would be best to side-apparate on our way back. Floo travel is more difficult when you're carrying packages,” said Remy.,

She explained what it was and how it worked as she lead him towards a sectioned off area marked: Apparation Point. One side was designated as Arrival and the other Departure, which Harry supposed helped keep things more orderly. He felt a little nervous as he looped his arm around Remy's and squeezed his eyes tightly shut as she directed him to spin on his heel with her. Harry felt the weight of pressure all around him and his stomach roiled uncomfortably, and then it was over and they were on the road just outside of the gate to Oakstone Manor.

“Unpleasant, isn't it?” Remy asked, sounding apologetic. “I know it's not a comfort right now, but you will get used to it as you get older. By the time you learn to apparate, the most you'll feel is that pressure around you.”

Harry didn't know how to respond to that and simply shrugged his shoulders before following her through the gate (which opened at their approach) and back into the manor.

“Evie?” Remy called out.

There was a popping sound and then a new house-elf in gray and blue appeared. She immediately bowed, which caused the bright yellow kerchief to start slipping off her head until it got caught on her massive ears. When she straightened up, she beamed at the sight of the bags in Remy's arms. “Do you need Evie to take them to your room, miss? And put them away?”

“That would be wonderful. Only the books go to my room. Everything else will go to Harry's,” Remy told her.

Evie nodded quickly and turned her attention to Harry. “Evie will organize them very nicely, young sir! If it's not to your liking you can call for Evie or Cici and we'll come help!”

“Oh, um, thank you, Evie. I'm sure you'll do great.” Harry wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say, but Evie didn't look upset as she bounced over to take the bags. Once she had them in her arms, she popped away without another word.

“Tonight I think we'll burn your hand-me-downs,” Remy said conversationally. “But for now, you deserve a chance to rest and do whatever you'd like until dinner. Leona still has another hour of tutoring to get through, but Aqua should be free by now. She'll be in the library, if you'd like to find her.”

Harry needed a refresher on how to get there and once Remy gave him directions on the easiest path to take – up the main staircase to the second floor, take a left and go to the end of the hall, where you take another left, and enter the second door on the right – he set off to find Aquarius.

Just like Remy said, she was sitting in the library in a squishy armchair beneath one of the windows, a heavy looking book open in her lap. Aquarius looked up when she heard the door open and beamed when she spotted Harry peeking inside.

“You're back! And you're not wearing any glasses?”

Harry grinned at her as he stepped fully into the library. “I don't need them anymore.”

“Brilliant!” Aquarius responded. “You have a letter, by the way. Butternut brought a response from your friend while you were away.”

Harry looked to the side table where she gestured and saw a envelop sitting there. When he walked over and picked it up, he found himself recognizing Hermione's tidy handwriting and eagerly ripped it open to see what she wrote.

Dear Harry,

I'm so glad to hear you're alright! Ron and I were terribly worried that something awful happened to you once you got home. Please thank Aquarius for sending me the letter saying that you're safe with her and Leona. She says that you're not going back to your muggle relatives. Is it true? Did they do something to keep you from receiving letters? I know you are all looking into what happened, but I think I'll do some research of my own and see what I can find. I'll keep you updated!

I've talked to my parents about visiting you this summer and they have agreed to it, though they'd like to talk to Leona's mum about it first. I think they want to make sure it's alright with her. Will Ron be joining us as well? He hasn't mentioned any visiting, but it does sound like the Weasley's have a full house anyway and I would hate to add to that. I think meeting up at Diagon Alley would be a far better idea, especially since it would let my parents meet the Weasley's. They didn't get much time to talk at King's Cross.

It probably won't surprise you but I've done quite a lot of reading so far this summer. Most of my homework is already complete, except for that essay on goblin wars that Binns assigned. I must admit, even I find it a bit droll and difficult to complete. All I can hear is his voice droning on. If you'd like, we can review our summer studies together when I visit! And please tell Leona that I've finished the books she recommended. I suppose I should just write a letter to her instead of using you as a personal owl.

What's Oakstone Manor like? It must be exciting to see a wizarding home!

Hermione's letter carried on like that as she wrote about whatever came to mind. She spoke a little of her parents and how excited they were to hear about her first year at Hogwarts and then went into more detail of how she spent her summer when she wasn't studying or reading. Every now and then she'd circle around to ask him a question about what it was like living with Leona. Was there a library? Had he had time to do any of the summer homework?

There was only one reference to Professor Quirrel, who had disappeared sometime before the End-of-Term feast, and that was to say there was a small article in the prophet about there being a warrant for his arrest and how any sightings should be immediately reported to the DMLE.

Harry wondered if Tonks knew anything about that. Would they be able to tell him anything if they did?

He folded up the letter and stuck it into his pocket, resolving to answer Hermione when he had time later. “Reading anything interesting, Aquarius?”

She silently tilted her book so he could read the cover and Harry was delighted to find he could see the words without having to squint. The Complete Beginners Guide to Potion Brewing was the name of her book and Harry wondered just how in-depth it went to make it so it was at least five centimeters thick.

“Leo says that Professor Snape will probably look for any reason to take points from me or give me detention, so I thought if I start studying now then he won't be able to find as many,” she explained with an easy shrug.

There was something about the idea of Snape harassing Aquarius that rankled Harry. She was a ten-year-old girl who hadn't done a thing wrong and she was already prepared to be utterly humiliated by one of her professors, who took issue with who her parents were. It was bad enough that Snape targeted him and Neville – though he still didn't know why he demonstrated such loathing towards Neville.

Instead of saying anything, Harry left Aquarius to her reading and took a seat in a nearby chair to check out his two new books. The first one he grabbed was the one on Camelot, which reminded him of a question he had.

“Hey, Aquarius? Do you know of anyone called 'ML Black' who might be related to you?”

“Not in recent history,” Aquarius said slowly. “It does sound familiar, so there must be someone with those initials on the family tree. Why do you ask?”

“They wrote this book I found. The Magical Court of Camelot – the Truth Behind the Legends,” Harry told her.

Aquarius marked her page and set it aside, her eyes alight with interest. “And it's written by a Black?”

Harry nodded.

“Follow me!” Aquarius said, hopping up out of her chair.

Feeling a little bewildered, Harry left his things in his seat and got up to follow her through the tall shelves of the library and to a spot tucked away in a back corner. There was a heavy, navy blue curtain hanging across an elaborate archway and stepping through revealed a rounded alcove. Candles on either side of the arch lit themselves when they stepped through, illuminating the nearly black walls to reveal a massive tree painted in silver ink, its branches rigid and following a clear structure.

Most notably, it was upside down, with the base of its trunk resting where the wall met the ceiling.

“This is the Black Family Tree, which dates back to our earliest magical ancestor, Ambroise Fabron,” she said, pointing up to the top. “They were blacksmiths. He brought his knowledge of the craft to the magical world and then applied enchantments to make it even better. His greatest achievement was a charm embedded within cookware that made it easier to clean without repeatedly using scourgify.”

Harry's brows knitted together. “But that means... he was muggleborn?”

“If you go far back enough in a pureblood line, you'll find many muggleborns. It just didn't matter as much back then,” Aquarius said. She reached out and placed her hand on the wall, waiting for the space to light up silver before dragging her hand down. As she did so, the tree scrolled down until the trunk was nearly eye-level with them and the rest of the branches danced across the floor.

“Ambroise had three children. Two were girls who married into other lines and the other was a son, Michel, who continued the name Fabron and took up his father's work...” Aquarius continued to move down the three, explaining a little more about what little they still knew about their ancestors, until she came to Michel's third son, Célestin, who moved to the UK and changed his surname to Black before going on to revolutionize the production of cauldrons. “Oh! Harry, here she is! Mnemosyne Lucinda Black! She married Célestin! No wonder the name sounded familiar!”

“There could be another ML Black somewhere,” Harry pointed out.

“There could be,” Aquarius agreed. “But considering she was born in the seven-hundreds, I think it's probably her. It's too bad the tree doesn't list maiden names. I would have loved to know which family line she came from but I don't think any of our records have it listed. We can always ask Leo or Andy.”

Harry almost wanted to continue looking at the family tree to see if there was anyone else, but there were so many names. Not to mention Aquarius had a good point about the timeline. Mnemosyne would have been born close enough to the era of King Arthur's reign that she could gather correct details about that period. Maybe the book itself would have something in it to confirm his thoughts.

Aquarius released the magic that lowered the tree, allowing it to move back to its correct location across the wall. “I bet the Potter manor has a tree showing all of your ancestors too. You must be excited to go see it.”

“I hadn't thought much about it, to be honest,” Harry admitted. “Haven't had the time.”

There was a lot he suddenly had to think about and he wished he had the first clue where to start. Maybe if he had a moment to himself, he could slow down to think things through.

“If you want some time to yourself, you don't need to stay here with me in the library,” Aquarius said, sounding sympathetic.

“You don't want to look at the book?” Harry asked.

Aquarius shook her head. “It's yours to read first. I may take a look around and see if we have a copy on one of the shelves. Its likely, since it was written by a Black.” She pushed the curtain aside and then walked through, continuing to hold it for Harry as he followed.

After a bit of thought, Harry remained with Aquarius in the library and the two sat silently read their books until Leona came to fetch them for dinner.

“Hey, bookworms, it's time to eat!”

She grinned at the pair of them when they looked up, both surprised at how much time had passed. While Aquarius marked her page and set her book aside to read later, Harry put his back in his bag so he could take it to his room after dinner.

“How were your lessons, Leo?” Aquarius asked.

“Dull,” Leona responded with a groan. “Andy has me practicing with old speeches so I know how to properly present myself during Wizengamot meetings. It's important, sure, but I can't think of anything more boring.”

“History of Magic,” Harry responded immediately.

“The Annual Yule Ball at Malfoy manner,” Aquarius supplied cheekily.

“Brats,” Leona said affectionately. “Yeah, you might be right. Those are both pretty boring as well.”

Harry almost asked about the Yule Ball, wondering what it was and whether or not he'd be expected to attend it as well, but Leona changed the subject before he could say anything.

“Mum and Andy say that you'll officially start lessons tomorrow, Harry. She wants to go over a few things before you go back to Gringotts and talk to the holder for the Potter accounts. Mostly etiquette and stuff so you don't accidentally insult someone. Easy stuff,” Leona said with a shrug.

Harry hoped she was right about that. There was so much he felt like he didn't know. Stuff that Leona and Aquarius spent their entire lives learning and experiencing. He felt hopelessly behind compared to them.

Was it the same at school? How many of his peers had he unintentionally affronted with his behavior and language? It never seemed to matter that much in Gryffindor, but was that because he spent most of his time with Ron and Hermione?

Harry resolved to do better.

- - - - - - -

Andromeda smiled as she watched her family merrily converse over dinner.

Ted and Remy were in the middle of a rousing discussion on experimental medicines; a topic she hadn't expected Remy to show much interest in knowledge in, but the younger woman seemed to be holding her own even as Ted delved into more advanced potions.

The kids were all at the other end of the table with Leona and Nymphadora leading most of the conversation while Aquarius made comments and Harry primarily listened. Every now and then laughter would break out and Harry would grin, bright and carefree, and Andromeda was reminded of the way he was treated by his relatives and how glad she was to have gotten him out of there.

Dinner went well until just before dessert, when Milla popped into the room and got Andy's attention with a single tap on the arm.

“A guest has arrived, Miss. Milla be telling them it is rude to intrude over dinner but they insisting.”

“Thank you, Milla,” Andromeda said as she gently set aside her utensils. She patted her mouth with a cloth napkin and then excused herself from the table with a soft apology. She briskly walked to the foyer and made sure to compose herself before entering the room.

Standing near the door was an old man with a long beard and twinkling periwinkle robes.

“Albus,” Andromeda cordially greeted. “It is considered rude to visit during dinnertime.”

He met her aloofness with a polite smile. “I do apologize, Lady Tonks, however there was no other time I could get away and there is something of grave importance that I must discuss with you.”

Andromeda arched one eyebrow. “Oh? And what is so important that you would arrive completely unannounced and interrupt a family meal?”

“It has come to my attention that you removed Harry Potter from the care of his Aunt and Uncle. You have to understand how important it is that he remain with them,” Albus told her. “There are blood wards in place around their residence. So long as he calls Privet Drive home, he will be protected from those in our world who would do him harm.”

Andromeda had a myriad of choices before her. She could play along with his little game, letting him try and garner sympathy for his actions. She didn't doubt that he genuinely thought he was doing the right thing, but she wouldn't stand there and allow him to speak up in defense of those horrid muggles.

“Harry will not be returning to that place and especially not by your hand.”

“My dear-”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “You have no right to determine where he lives. You had no right to send him to those people; the only people who Lily herself specified he was never to go to. We have heard their Will, Albus. The boy will stay with his Magical Guardian and there is nothing that you nor anyone else can do to change that.”

Andromeda stepped back, never once taking her eyes off of Dumbledore. “Bastion!”

With a pop, a house-elf appeared. He was clad in the same gray and blue as the others, but he bore the Black Family shield across the back of his shirt and carried a tiny dagger on the belt around his waist. He bowed to Andromeda.

“How may Bastion help?”

“Please escort the Headmaster from the property and place a ban on the wards to prevent him from returning without permission,” Andromeda instructed.

Albus looked pained by her words, but politely inclined his head and went without a fuss, leaving Andromeda to stand in the foyer by herself. A few minutes later she felt a slight shift in the wards. Only then did she feel comfortable returning to the table.

“Everything alright?” Ted quietly asked as she sat down.

Andromeda nodded. “Nothing to worry about, dear. Just an issue that needed to be handled sooner rather than later.”

She would tell him and Remy more about their guest later. For the moment, she wanted to sit and enjoy dessert with her family.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter au #HP and the traditions of the magical world

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cchellacat · 6 years

Text

The Way To A Man’s Heart

Love All The Marvel Ships Challenge

Day Seventeen ~ Baking

Bucky isn’t sure what to make of her at first. She doesn’t seem to have a role he’d been expecting within the compound. She’d not a spy or a super soldier or a scientist. There’s nothing special about her that would stands out in any way. She flits about the place completely oblivious to the others around her.

She has no self-preservation instincts whatsoever as far as he can see.

The first time he notices her is about a week after she and Foster turn up to claim the lab space Stark had offered them more than a year before.

She rushes along a corridor balancing a stack of binders and a tray of coffee in her arms. He watches with interest as she scowls at the elevator doors, unable to press the button without dropping anything. Instead of setting her burden down on the floor, she wiggles a little lifting one leg till her pencil skirt slides up her thighs, then with an exclamation of triumph slips her foot out of her heels and manages, unlikely as it seems, to press the call button with her toe. She then slips her shoe back on, all without losing her balance or spilling the coffee, and hops onto the elevator with a grin.

The second time he see’s her he’s down in the engineering lab to have his arm looked at. Through the glass partitions he can see Doctor Foster, a tiny, skinny brunet, with ink smudges on her face and a half dozen pens stuck in her hair, leaning over a machine. There’s a strange noise and then he sees the almost equally tiny form of Darcy Lewis, tackling her to the floor just as the whole thing goes up in flames. He stands smirking as Lewis chews out Foster for not following safety protocols and messing with the machines without asking first, while the ends of her hair smoke with each waft of her hand as she tries to stop it burning.

He asks Steve about her, but he doesn’t seem to know much more than him. Natalia shoots him a death glare when he asks her and tell him to keep his distance. Barton chuckles and makes a comment about hurricane Darcy and tells him he’d be better off nowhere near the disasters that the she and Foster seem to be so well suited to bringing. Stark glares at him and tells him if he doesn’t want a bedtime and enforced showers to keep well away from the menace that is Darcy Lewis.

The third time he sees her, she’s giving Foster a piggyback back up to their apartment. It’s only as he holds a door open for her that he realises Foster is out cold, Darcy is determinedly clutching the woman to her back and doggedly plodding on under the dead weight, muttering about scientists and limits and glorified babysitting.

The next time he sees her she is sitting on the edge of the roof with a bottle of tequila and a book. The sun is just starting to dip lower in the sky, the light behind her giving her an ethereal glow. She catches him looking, grins at him and winks before turning back to her book, completely ignoring him and the threat he poses. What is wrong with the girl?

Throwing herself in front of explosions, sitting on the edge of a roof? Discarding the threat he could so easily be to her? He’s checked, she has no defensive training or even a gun permit. She’s a sitting duck for any bad guy, a liability in any foothold situation. There’s something about her that sets him on edge and at the same time something inside him wants to pick her up and protect her.

Then he starts finding bakery in his kitchen. Rolls, beagles, bread, pies, cakes, muffins…. He has no idea where they are coming from. Eventually he accesses his apartments security footage and finds it’s him, bringing them in in the middle of the night and dumping whatever windfall he has on the counter. It still doesn’t tell him where they’re coming from though. It takes him a while to figure it out, when he does he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

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Darcy loves the compound it’s so big! There are so many people to meet and get to know, the lab space they have is huge and the computer programs for recording the data are sleek and easy to use and make keeping up with Janes work a doddle.

It gives her more time to finish up grant proposals and other funding. Time to write the journal papers for Jane and have them properly reviewed and the final drafts sorted before Jane can publish them. In the last year since moving here Jane has had more of her work published than she had in the three years previously.

Her boss is happy, working with access to all the sorts of equipment that she could never have afforded and even specialist stuff that Stark is happy to help build for her. He even lets Darcy help, which is like a dream come true. She’s not ashamed to admit that Iron Man is her hero. Not that she’ll ever tell Tony, no, nuha, the guy already has a big enough head, which he totally deserves, but you know, she can’t let him know how much she fangirls if she wants him to listen to her when it’s time to eat and sleep.

There’s a pool, games room, onsite cafeteria which is open twenty four seven and an inhouse laundry service. Darcy loves it here, she’s never felt more spoiled and productive in her life.

As an added bonus she has found some more people to add to her tribe of lost boys. Darcy has always had a bit of Wendy complex, she sees people in need of mothering and all her instincts to take care of them kick in.

Jane and Eric aren’t her first, but they are her favourites, scientists it seems, never really grow up. And yes, she’s aware she’s treating grown adults, geniuses like little kids, but lets be honest. They have all the self-control of a bunch of ten years olds.

If she let her, Jane would live on nothing but coffee and pop tarts. Eric would drink nothing but tea and dunk his digestive biscuits in them- he’d found a fondness for them in London - and forgets there were other things belonging to actual food groups.

Tony, she found out relatively quickly, also had a coffee addiction. When he was on a science bender he didn’t eat at all. Darcy winced at the thought, she was pretty sure she watched as the weight dropped off him over the course of a couple of days like this. In the end she’d put her foot down, dragged him from the lab by his ear and made him shower and go to bed. The next day when he emerged it was to a big breakfast with all his favourites and Darcy laying down the law. Like Jane and Eric, he would stop to eat and sleep at appropriate intervals or she’d make him. Pepper’s smiling face over video call convinced him to tow the line and she’d happily stomped all over his normal ability to get his own way with glee.

Bruce had quickly followed, he’d been easy to sort, she’s just started leaving food out at the same time as she did for Tony, it was sort of a monkey see monkey do situation.

Since then she’d branched out, there were other idiots roaming the compound in need of care.

About three months into living there she became aware of the hovering presence of Bucky Barnes. He lurked around the edges, always watching her. He’d appear from no where to open doors for her, press call buttons, help her carry things… she didn’t complain, it was kind of nice to be helped once in a while. The thing was though, she could tell he was always on edge around her, like he just didn’t know how to talk to her at all. In fact the first time she heard his voice was also the first time she met the Winter Soldier.

She hadn’t known that at first of course. She’d been in the kitchen late, making up a batch of muffins for the next day when he’s actually approached her and sat at the island while she mixed the batter.

Darcy had felt comfortable enough to say nothing more than hi when he’d pulled up a seat. She’d continued measuring out the ingredients, adding in the sugar and butter. She had her music on low, and she was dancing a little and singing under her breath as he watched her.

Without thinking about it she asked him to pass her things as she worked, he did so wordlessly, and they worked together easily for the next hour.

When she presented him with a plate of muffins for himself after everything was cleaned up, he’d looked uncertain.

“You helped, so you get a share of the bounty.” She pressed, pushing the plate into his hands.

“Spasiba.” The low growl of Russian had made her freeze for a split second, but she shook it off and nodded happily as he left the kitchen with a plate piled high with blueberry muffins.

“Jarvis, was that the Winter Soldier?”

“I believe it was Miss Darcy. Would you like me to alert someone?”

“No… I think it’s okay, he’s going back to his room, right?”

“Yes, Miss Darcy, Sargent Barnes has returned to his rooms.”

Darcy finished sweeping the floor while she pondered the strange encounter.

She knew the story of course, everyone in the world knew the story of James Barnes and the Winter Soldier. The media storm after the fall of Shield, the discovery of the Winter Soldier files, the Red Book, the exposure of who he really was. It had hit America hard.

One of their own, lost and forgotten, a prisoner of war for seven decades, brainwashed and tortured and forced to do the bidding of the very people he had fought against through a war. It had been devastating. She hated to think where they’d be now if it hadn’t all come to light directly after Natasha had dumped all the files on the NET. Some hacker had compiled a program to search out hidden Hydra files and cracked a previously unknown server, two days after Natasha’s file dump, the Hacker had made a second dump, flagging everything to do with the Winter Soldier, exposing the injustice of the century.

After two years of searching he had been found and brought back to America, given the help and support he had needed and had been awarded numerous awards and medals for his service. The President had made a full apology to him for leaving a man behind, for allowing Hydra to become part of the establishment and for the part American’s themselves had played in his continued torture and imprisonment.

Darcy couldn’t blame him for being a little quiet and skittish, but she hadn’t realised that the very programming that had been forced on him still lingered. Her heart went out to him. He was so lost, still hurting from his past. That the Winter Soldier had come to her kitchen and helped her bake, sounded like a cry for help. She just didn’t know who was crying. Him or James Barnes. Maybe it was both. He’d been quiet, but helpful tonight, at no point had she felt threatened or unsafe, she didn’t think he would hurt her. With that thought she flicked off the light and decided that she had room for at least one more lost boy.

“Jarvis, if the Winter Soldier makes another night time appearance, let me know.”

“Are you sure that’s wise Miss Darcy?”

“Sure, it is Jarvis, everything one deserves a little company, even scary assassins. I’ll be fine. Just, lets keep this between us, alright?”

“Very well Miss Darcy, if you insist.”

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It went on for months like that, her baking in the kitchen, the Winter Soldier lending her a hand. She started teaching him how to bake, she figured it was a therapy thing and also a human thing, they all needed to eat.

At first. she didn’t say much, but slowly as the time went on she carried out whole conversations with him, only his expressions and snorts to guide her on his opinion. The more time she spent with this version of him the more she liked him. She wasn’t going to lie, he was a very attractive man. Darcy would have to be blind not see how pretty his big blue eyes were, how soft and kissable his lips looked and the less said about his body the better. She did her best to discard her growing crush and continued to help him as best she could.

Eight months later he was standing beside her, both of them working in tandem to get the baked good finished. They moved around each other in a complicated dance, passing utensils and ingredients, hands and arms brushing with increased regularity.

She’s nervous, because she hasn’t seem him in a week. She also feels a little annoyed because she had thought that Barnes at least knew about these late-night baking sessions. That had been put to rest a few days before when she asked him where he’d been. He’d looked at her in confusion and asked what she meant.

That’s when it really dawned on her that he was keeping both sides of himself very separate from each other. She doesn’t know how she missed it before, but it’s glaringly obvious now. It’s why she hardly ever saw him outside of the kitchen, why, when Barnes was in the driving seat he did nothing more than was polite when they crossed paths. But it couldn’t be completely separate, little things, like him handing her a coffee the way she liked a few times when she’d come to find some in the break room or him knowing which blanket was hers when he’d given her it when they were all watching movies a few weeks ago. Just that he’d even noticed she was cold had been sweet when she considers that Winter Soldier is the one who had spoken to her the most, has been the one getting to know her.

She’s reaching for something on a high shelf when he comes behind her, one hand resting lightly on her hip to get the bag of sugar when it happens. She loses her balance a little and rocks back into him, a strangled whimper escaping her at the feel of their bodies pressed together.

He stills behind her and then rests the sugar on the counter in front of her, his other hand coming to rest on her other hip. The only sound left is their silence. She doesn’t know what to do. She is standing in the kitchen, the Winter Soldier holding her hips lightly, the warmth of his hand heating her skin even through her jeans. She wants to press back more firmly against him, give him a sign to encourage this- whatever it is- but she can’t. She can’t because she knows just how separated he is from the other half of him, from the man, James Barnes.

She drops her shoulders in disappointment and he seems to understand her refusal, letting her go and stepping back. She turns to face him, and they regard each other, both of them wanting something they can’t have.

“You should tell him. I know you can communicate with him, through dreams or whatever. I know you’re not completely separate. Tell him, about this, about us meeting.”

“We are the same person, кукла.” “I know, but if we’re really going to be friends, he needs to understand why.”

“He likes you just as much as I do.” He insists.

“But does he know why? Every time I see you in the daytime he gets this look of confusion, like he’s not sure why he wants to come help me. I didn’t realise till last week just how much you kept from him. Does he even know where all the baked goods we make come from?”

“I am sorry, любимая.”

Darcy sighs and wonders how she ever let herself end up in a situation like this one, then realises that this is exactly the sort of bat shit crazy that can only happen to her.

He moves too fast to stop him then and pulls her into a tight hug, muttering a thank you into her hair before pressing a firm kiss to her forehead.

He’s gone before she can say anything more, left alone with countertop full of pies and cookies and no super soldier to feed it to.

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“Hey, I haven’t seen you in a week, where have you been?”

He hands her the coffee and cocks his head to one side. They don’t speak much, other than to say hello or exchange inane pleasantries. He’s really not sure what she means, the question comes with a slight teasing tone that he knows is more familiar than he would have expected.

“There was a mission to Rio, we got stuck down there a few days.” He answers slowly. He watches her face carefully, sees the way she goes a little white and then stutters out an excuse to leave.

Bucky stares after Darcy in consternation. In the last few months the draw he felt towards her had only increased. He found himself wondering what she was doing at odd times, his mind bringing up pictures of her smile, the sound of her laugh ringing in his ears. Then he finds himself making up a coffee for her, milky with two sugars and she thanks him with a pretty smile she only ever gives to him and then goes to leave the room. It’s not the first time he’s made her a coffee, but it’s the first time he’s actually noticed that at some point he must have picked up on how she liked it. One of the nights they had all gathered to watch movies he had found himself watching her constantly, without thinking about it he’d reached for the pile of blankets and selected a thick fleecy one in a sky blue and cream snowflake pattern. She had been hiding it, but he saw that she was cold from the way she tucked her hands between her knees. The way she thanks him again, something more than just simple gratitude in her eyes, it should have tipped him off long before this.

He finally cajoles Jarvis into giving him the security logs for the kitchen. There are months’ worth of footage, him and Darcy baking together in the communal kitchen. Or to be more accurate, the Winter Soldier and Darcy. The pieces all start to fall into place as he watches and listens to the girl chatter on at his murderous, more dangerous half, the way she treats him like he matters, with affection and respect. Its odd, watching yourself fall in love with someone from a distance, but it’s what’s happening. It makes sense now, the pull he feels towards her. He might not have been aware, but part of him had been.

A week later he wakes up to find a note on the counter top in the kitchen. It’s short and to the point.

“I know, you know. I know you like her too. Don’t fuck it up.”

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She doesn’t know why she bothers to come down here. Or rather, she knows why and isn’t sure if she’d hoping for the Winter Soldier or James Barnes to appear. She misses him. She misses him listening to her, she misses the company and she misses the way he looked at her, like she somehow made the world a better place.

She decides to stop moping and just make something. There’s meant to be a family dinner tomorrow night. She could make some pies or something to put on the table. Steve never said no to Apple and Pie and Tony was a slut for her Peach Brandy Cobbler. Decision made she set out the ingredients.

Just as she reaches for a mixing bowl from the shelf she becomes aware of a presence behind her and she stops, still balanced on her toes. A hand comes to rest on her hip while the man behind her reaches for the bowls.

“Let me help you, Doll.” Gone is the faint Russian accent, instead it’s the thick Brooklyn drawl that assaults her ears.

“Barnes?”

He brings down the bowls and lets her go as she turns round.

“Um… hi.” She says, a little lost at the sudden state of affairs.

“Hey.” He hesitates a little before smiling crookedly. “So, it’s come to my attention we’ve been spending a little time together. Thought maybe you wouldn’t mind some company tonight, my company, specifically.”

“OH..” she can feel the blush burning up her cheeks as she wonders what he knows, exactly.

His smile dims a little at her odd silence and for a moment wonders if he made a mistake, read it wrong. He waits anyway, wondering if she’ll say anything more.

“Did you figure it out, or did he tell you?” She finally asks.

Bucky passes her the note from his pocket.

She bites her bottom lip, trying not to smile as she reads the Winter Soldier’s words. He liked her, they both did, or he wouldn’t be showing her this. The tiny flame of hope she held in her heart flared to life.

“So, can I help?” The teasing tone is back and she feels a thrill of excitement as she looks up at him. His smile of knowing is more than a little charming. She feels her own lips lift in response.

“I’d like that.” She says softly as their hands brush when he gives her the bowel. “What do I call you?” She really does want to know, she can’t keep calling him Soldier anymore.

“You can call me anything you want, Doll.” The wink he gives her makes her eyes widen and she bumps him with her shoulder in mock reprimand.

“Can I call you James?”

“James is fine.”

They share another grin, both their eyes lighting up in shared excitement. It turns out he knows how to bake after all, the knowledge he’d picked up over the months right there when he needs it.

Over time she gets to know him all over again and occasionally the Winter Soldier will make an appearance, but over the years, he comes less and less. The more time Bucky spends with Darcy the more he feels whole. Eventually he remembers all the time he spends with her as the Winter Soldier. He never tells her, but she knows. He is both now. The man and the soldier, finally one.

@captain-rogers-beard

#love all the marvel ships challenge #wintershock #darcy/bucky #bucky/darcy

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fearofaherobrine · 6 years

Text

Roleplay Server Log #386

“Octagon and Enix, Spleef, Bird Dad”

[CP] Is holding his no longer flaming baby and is letting Notch visit with the others when he feels the shift in the mainframe and he shudders a little-

[Fangbo] Notices his reaction. - Did Aether pull your hair or something?

[CP] - No...- He looks over at the mainframe- The seeds have shifted...

[Fangbo] Oh? You're sensitive to that? Maybe one of the big multiplayer servers changed host sites or something.

[CP] - Maybe...- He takes Aether and hands her back over to Notch- Just give me a moment

[Notch] Any reccomendations to keep her from getting cold again?

[CP] - Keep her out of the way of the vents and if she does catch on fire again, well, you know it wont hurt you yet

[Flux] Digs through the diaper bag and finds an extra blanket-

[Notch] Got it. Where are you headed?

[CP] - The main frame

[Notch] I'd say be gentle but you know how to conduct yourself.

[Jeb] He does????

[Flux] - He'll be fine

[CP] Ignores Jeb and touches the servers letting himself be pulled in and he looks to see what happened-

-There is now a very big server next to the one he's been calling home-

[CP] Snickers and goes to inspect the new bigger server-

-It's already super overbuilt. There are a faintly ridiculous number of players running around and the chat is full of random emoticons and leetspeak. There are quite a few large sculptures with just random words and pixel art from various 8bit games. There's a spleef dome rising over part of the town as well. The spawn is a sort of open waiting room with the basic server rules posted on a series of white colums in a circle. People are hustling in every direction but the spot he's standing in is relatively quiet.

[CP] - Oh joy, fresh prey

-He's immediatly struck with the feeling of being scrutinzed-

[CP] Focus' on the feeling to see what it is-

-There's a bit of a cough from above him-

[Octagon] You look lost friend. I hope you're not here to make mischief. - The figure is unmistakably a NOTCH, but he has a full long beard plaited like a dwarf and a name floating over his head like a player.

[CP] - Oh fuck off

[Octagon] Now that's not very nice. And here I'm being super polite too.

[CP] - I just came to find out what had been placed next to our server and if it were a threat

[Octagon] Then we're neighbors! How wonderful! You can see my name, what's yours? -Chuckles- Though I can probably guess.

[CP] - The others usually refer to me as CP

[Octagon] Hops down from the pillar and stands next to him. He's average height for a NOTCH, so shorter then Cp- Pleased to meet you then! I wouldn't have a player name, like this- he indicates the floating bar- but my brother tagged me.

[CP] - Your brother?

[Octagon] Yes! Let me see if I can get his attention. I think he'd be more your speed anyway- He does some whisper typing and then waits-

-A Herobrine basically steps out of his shadow and makes a show of stalking and menacing the NOTCH from behind before tickling his ribs with a gigantic grin-

[Octagon] Dissolves into wild laughter - BRO!

[CP] - Oh joy- He's dead pan

[Enix] Speaks with the most sinister voice Cp's ever heard outside the mansion, it's practically an oily sound. - What? No sense of humor?

[CP] - Only when it comes to murder or teasing my wife

[Enix] A brine with a mate? Did you wed an Alex? Lucky man.

[Octagon] You have a wife? That's so sweet. Is she nice?

[CP] - Another brine, and it's none of your fucking business

[Enix] Shrugs- Suit yourself.

[Octagon] He lives next server over!

[Enix] Lounges against a pillar. - So how's the neighborhood around here? Our admin changed hosts.

[CP] - Well it was quiet, but don't expect to be able to just hop over, it's a private server

-There's a bit of commotion as a few players spawn in and stand for a moment. The native NOTCH and brine make a show of stiffly waving at them and doing a few player hops-

[Octagon] Sounds quiet.

[CP] - Again, it was, but I suspect we'll be picking up a fair amount of noise from your server here

[Enix] Not much to be done about that. This is a kids server.

[Octagon] Little players really liven up the place!

[CP] - Ours is a sanctuary for brines

[Octagon] So you don't have any players at all?

[CP] - Occasionally a few that we trust explicitly will come on, but otherwise, no

[Octagon] But who pays the bills?

[CP] - We have our ways

[Enix] Clever, and close with secrets I see. Well we're set up decently well too. The head admin thinks we're both players.

[Octagon] Snickers-

[CP] - Pathetic

[Enix] Scoff if you want. It's a good gig.

[Octagon] Some of us like kids you know. He and I keep the griefing and hacking to a minimum so everyone has fun.

[CP] - We're brines! We're supposed to grief!

[Lie] Slips into the server, having been wondering what was taking CP so long and so had traced his path through the office. She appears right behind her husband-

[Octagon] But they're just kids. It would be mean to grief them. They'd just cry.

[Enix] Hides a growing smile behind one hand - You wouldn't burn down some little kids clubhouse would ya?

[CP] - I have in the past

[Lie] Sighs- CP...

[CP] Stiffens and turns around- Lie...

[Enix] Laughs- I think someone just got busted!

[Octagon] All smiles- Hello miss! Welcome to our server.

[Lie] - Hello, I apologize if my husband has been harassing you

[CP] - Why are you here?

[Lie] - You were taking a very long time checking on our daughter so I figured I'd see what was taking you. Oh, and you also griefed your father, she pooped right after you left apparently and Jeb had to show him how to change the diaper

[Octagon] You have a daughter too???

[Enix] Scoots closer- You're a Herobrine! A female Herobrine???

[Octagon] Gets closer as well- My stars!

[Lie] Hesitates a little- Yes, a newborn, and yes I am a female brine...

[CP] Growls as the other two get closer to his wife-

[Octagon] Congratulations! I had no idea that was even possible!

[Enix] I hope she didn't inherit her dads temperment. He's a bit rude.

[Lie] - He's better than he used to be

[CP] - Speaking of our daughter, we should be getting back to her

-There's a bit of commotion and a player with a silly skin runs up to Octagon and places a sign before typing on it-

[Octagon] Oh dear, that's not allowed. I'm sorry I have to tend to this. It was nice meeting you.

[Enix] Watches his brother rush off. - Yeah, likewise. Sorry about the noise, we have so many players, this place is like a madhouse. Even the Nether and Aether are noisy as all get out. Only the End is quiet.

[Lie] - Our Aether is noisy sometimes too

[CP] Groans at his wife's joke-

[Enix] Stares at her for a long moment and then lets out a rather evil sounding laugh- That's excellent! You named your child after the NOTCH realm mod didn't you???

[Lie] - Yes, we did

[Enix] I love it! What are your thoughts on players? Your hubby seems none too keen on them.

[Lie] - It depends on the player themselves, although I really have no room to judge since I used to be one

[Enix] Oh now things start to make sense... this means someone in your circle can get out. How intriging. I spend most of my time with players.

-A few players are creeping around a little watching them-

[Enix] Hang on- He turns quickly and gives them a freaky grin-

-There's some excited jumping and the avatars sprint away merrily-

[Enix] I save my A-game for more adult multiplayer games mostly.

[Lie] Motions at CP- He's the one who dragged me in initially

[CP] - Lie! Let's go!

[Enix] Something on fire Cp?

[CP] - You're being annoying!

[Lie] - Adult multiplayer?

[Enix] Gives her fingerguns- I slay at Overwatch, TF2, COD, I know how to do remote logins.

[Lie] - Okay then

[CP] Flumps on his wife a little-

[Lie] - Really CP?

[CP] - I would think you'd want to get back

[Lie] - Why?

[CP] - So we could finish what we were doing~

[Enix] Ah, is it adult playtime?

[Lie] - It was until the baby figured out how to set herself on fire

[Enix] You don't sound panicked so I'm going to assume it's a normal thing for a child brine to be on fire.

[Lie] - Considering it's one of her father's powers? Yes

-Another small group of players spawn in and wave -

[Enix] Just play it cool.

[Lie] - Well we should be leaving soon anyways, but I'll be sure to let our head admin know about you guys

-messages in chat-

-Whoah Pretty hair! O-O-

-Red Herobrine! Super talllllllllllllll-

[Enix] Thanky. Come back and visit if you want. Just walk stiff and follow the rules.

[Lie] - We will- She stands near CP and he lets both of them out and back into the office

[CP] Helps Lie out and both of them can hear Aether getting fussy-

[Notch] Back again? How did it go?

[Fangbo] Is making faces at Aether to make her giggle-

[Lie] - Well the new neighbors have a brine and a NOTCH

[Dofta] oh dear... do they get along at least?

[CP] - Their relationship is brotherly

[Lie] Goes to take her fussy baby from Notch-

[Dofta] Oh good. [She's still upset about the incident with Mb and Echo the other day]

[Notch] That's a relief at least.

[Lie] Picks up on Dofta's emotions- Hey, it wasn't your fault. It was actually the NOTCH's fault that MB was up for deletion

[CP] - Yeah, and they are way too cheerful

[Fangbo] Cheerful is bad?

[Yster] Well I can think of worse things.

[Jeb] Is looking at a screen on the mainframe - that's a big server...

[CP] - The head admin just thinks that they are players, they hit each other with name tags

[Notch] That's actually kinda clever. They're just living there?

[Jeb] Is looking up some info on the server. - Oh man...! I found the stats for it.

[CP] - Yeah well can you move it farther from ours?

[Locklear] - Are you really being territorial over a digital space?

[CP] - Yes!

[Jeb] The owner is a rather sweet-looking little old lady. And no, I can't move it. The placement is decided by the hosting service. They just got a packet near yours.

[Yster] I got the impression he was territorial about everything in general.

[CP] - Then I'll find a way to move it

[Notch] Just leave it be please, it sounds like they might be decent allies.

[CP] Grumbles-

[Lie] - Should we be heading back?

[Notch] I think so, Aether looks sleepy too.

[Lie] - Yeah, I think it's nap time

[Lie] Once back home they say goodbye to Notch and go inside. CP lays down on the bed with their daughter and Lie watches as he falls asleep with her, taking a screen shot as her daughter sleeps soundly on her father's chest. With a giggle she decides to check on CN and looks around for the child-

[CN] Is digging around in the food trunk for a snack-

[Lie] - And what are you doing CN?

[CN] Yelps and quickly turned around- Lie!

[Lie] - Are we getting a snack?

[CN] - Yeah...

[Lie] - I see, well after your snack, do you want to go for a ride with me?

[CN] - Sure! Where are we going?

[Lie] - Just to Docs place, there's some stuff I need to tell them

[CN] Quickly eats an apple- Okay! I'm ready to go!

[Lie] Smiles and follows CN out to the stable where he selects a horse and then follows her to the front of the house so she can get on Beau. The stallion is happy to be getting out and prances a little- Easy there, we're just going for a short ride

[CN] Climbs on his horse and follows Lie towards Docs house-

[Doc] is dozing in the sun near the spawn, hir dragon tail is draped over a few of the headstones and the small wall-

[Lie] - Guess we won't have to go so far- She trots over to Doc- Hey Doc? I've got some news...

[Doc] blinks sleepily- mm? Oh. Hi lie, Cn - Xe yawns - I didn't sleep worth a damn last night...

[Lie] - Because of the server shift?

[Doc] You felt it too huh? It was that, and the noise...

[Lie] - CP felt it from out in the office. He also went to investigate and it's where I found him

[Doc] Groans- please tell me he didn't already piss everyone off?

[Lie] - Not yet, but there is a brine and NOTCH over there

[Doc] Hunkers down into a tidy, alert crouch- Now you have my full attention.

[Lie] - They have taken on a brothers relationship and the server admin just believes that they are players. It's a server for kids

[CN] - For kids?

[Doc] No wonder it's so noisy. They must have a lot of players for all the activity I've been picking up on.

[Lie] - It looked like it too. Jeb looked up the stats for the server and said it was massive

[Doc] Interested tail flick - and the brine and the NOTCH? They're just living there? Are they really into babysitting or something?

[Lie] - I'm not sure, CP talked to them longer than I did. But he's currently napping with the baby. Their names are Octagon and Enix though

[Doc] How odd. Well at least it's nothing bad. I'll make my way over with a welcome cake or something, but not right now. I'm so tired... - They lay their head down with their chin in the grass. - I can't even sleep in my bed right now. Buff decided to evict my cobweb collection and it's annoying as hell listening to him whistle and bump around cleaning stuff.

[Lie] - I'm sorry to hear that

[CN] Nudges his horse closer to Lie- Lie?

[Lie] - Yes?

[CN] - Could... Could I go over there?

[Lie] - Well, I don't see why not, but you'd have to move stiffly like the players

[Doc] Thanks Lie. They might be suspicious of you too since you're smaller then a player.

[Lie] - That's true, but they just seemed awed at how large CP was. They're kids, they might not think much of it

[Doc] Perhaps. And if their Herobrine doesn't shade his eyes, they might be used to a few anomalies... - They sneak their tail fluff over their eyes and shift to a more comfortable pose. Like a balled cat.

[CN] - Could we... Go now?

[Lie] Hesitates a little- Are you sure you want to CN?

[CN] Nods his head-

[Doc] You guys have fun then, and be careful. Cn, you're not used to being around players, they can be impulsive and even destructive.

[CN] - But they're kids!

[Lie] - And they don't realize we're real and can feel pain

[CN] - Oh...

[Doc] They're just playing from behind a screen. Dying is a minor inconvenience. And they can't talk except in the chat and passing stuff like signs or books back and forth.

[CN] - Okay

[Lie] - Lets put our horses in with the skeletal ones here CN, then we can go

[CN] Nods in agreement and jumps the horse over the low fence-

[Lie] Does the same with Beau before creating an opening- See you in a bit Doc

[Doc] -is already asleep again-

[Lie] Makes the opening and guides CN through, both showing up at the spawn of the other server-

[CN] Looks around and bounces a bit in excitement-

[Enix] Runs by playfully chasing some players and stops- You came back so soon, and you brought a child? I thought your little one was a newborn? - He leans down to get a better look at Cn-

[Lie] - This is my NOTCH, CN, he heard their were other children here and wanted to come visit. CN? This is Enix

[CN] Takes a step back and moves a bit behind Lie-

[Enix] He's a bit timid huh? - He realizes the kids he was chasing have snuck up on him and are peeking at him from behind a pillar- Excuse me for a sec- He turns quickly and teleports right in front of them with a pickaxe in one hand. The kids leap and run like the dickens- Hehehe. Works every time.

[Lie] - And not just on children

[CN] Is looking up and around at everything there-

[Lie] - Go on CN, if you want to go explore then go. I'm sure Enix or Octagon can teleport you to me when you want to

[Enix] Perhaps I can show you around in the meantime? We've got quite a community of budding pixel artists.

[Lie] - Sure, I'd love a tour. Go have fun CN

[CN] Doesn't need to be told twice as he rushes off-

-The town is full of people rushing back and forth, some of them are even running little shops to trade things with other players. The chat is full or random talk as well, mostly about school and gossip. The houses are laid out on a basic grid and they vary in quality and materials-

[CN] Wanders around and checks everything out, reading the chat and getting confused about some of the things being talked about-

-A few avatars stop to look at him and there's some activity in the chat-

-There's a little guy LOLz.-

-Mini Notch wtf?-

-Neat skin!!!!11!!1-

[CN] Tries to figure out how to talk in chat without being too obvious- THanks?

-Wanna play with us???-

-SPLEEF-

-Agian? OMG. -

[CN] - Spleef? What's that?

[FollyCloud] You run around on snow with a shovel and try to cut the snow out from under other people!

[CN] - Sounds easy enough...

[BlockofFred] We have our own big stadum! Octagon keeps it set up!

[SilverMilk] We need one more person though....

[CN] - Okay, I'll play

[CaptainPurple] I call little guy!

[BlockofFred] I want Folly!

[SilverMilk] I'll message RobbinTime and meet you there.

[CN] - You can call me CN

[CaptainPurple] Cool!

-The others are all bouncing and sprinting ahead-

[CN] Follows, forgetting to move stiffly-

[BlockofFred] Watches him curiously- You move weird...

[CN] - Uh, it's... Mods

[BlockofFred] Oh! Neato1!

-The group approaches a board covered in game rules and a button in the center. The group hits the button and CN follows suit- The end up in a lobby where the players are partnering up and going to the designated areas for a match. As they cross a line of purple blocks, it sets their spawn point for the arena-

[CN] - Whoa...

[SilverMilk] Comes back with another player, their nameplate is RobbinTime - ready!

[CN] - Okay, so how do we do this?

[CaptainPurple] Nods at RobbinTime and they each hit a button on the wall-

[CN] Follows suit and the trio are teleported to an arena. Their inventories have been cleared and they now only have an iron helmet and a diamond shovel-

-The other three are facing them from across the snowfield-

[SilverMilk] Just use the shovel to knock the snow out from under them, and don't fall, okay?

[CN] - Got it- He gets ready and his vision is briefly obscured by a countdown timer and when it's time to go he races forwards with the others

-There's a lot of scurrying and jumping, snow is flying everywhere and BlockofFred is the first to fall-

[CN] Jumps over a gap to try to get behind the other team. He manages to knock RobbinTime down- Yes!

[CaptainPurple] Shoves Cn out of the way just as FollyCloud swings to knock the ground out from under him-

[CN] Stumbles and falls- Oof!

[CaptainPurple] Is now chasing FollyCloud around and they're swiftly running out of blocks to stand on-

[CN] Shakily stands and starts running to head FollyCloud off-

[FollyCloud] Manages to drop CaptainPurple and turns his attention to Cn-

[CN] Is having a bit of a stand off, not sure how to proceed and is looking for a safe route-

[FollyCloud]Chases him into a corner and takes a swing at the block under him-

[CN] Falls and it's at this point that he realizes that there's lava beneath the snow. He panics and without thinking he shifts into his bird form and flies up-

-WHOAH!-

-How did he do that??????-

[CN] Panic and flies to the far side of the arena where there's still snow and he shifts back, pressing himself back against the door-

-HACKER!!!1!1!-

[Octagon] Tps into the arena and looks around with his hands on his hips and his black eyes narrowed in annoyance-

[FollyCloud] Jumps around- He did something weird! He's cheating!

[CN] Starts breathing hard- There's lava down there!

[Octagon] Stalks over to him- well yes, that's kinda the point of not falling. Who are you?

[CN] Is trembling a little, looking for anyway out- C... CN...

[SilverMilk] He was moving weird...

[FollyCloud] He turned into somethign small!

[CN] Is really wanting Lie right about now-

[Octagon] Very quietly- I'm not sure what you're playing at, but you've thrown the gauntlet down now. If he knocked you down and you cheated back up, then the game can't end until you fall.

[CN] - But... That's going to hurt (String of numbers)

[Octagon] I'm aware of that, but you won't be deleted.

[CN] - But... But...

[Octagon] Just swats the block out from under him-

[CN] Falls with a yell and doesn't manage to transform quickly enough this time, hitting the lava and screaming in pain before popping back into the Spleef lobby. He immediately takes off at a run to try and get out with tears forming at the corners of his eyes-

[Octagon] Reassures the other players before tping to his location. Or course Cn is moving but he's close by- Wait a minute!

[CN] Stumbles and turns quickly terrified-

[Octagon] Easy there little NOTCH. That was nessesary.

[CN] - It... It hurt... So much...- CN leans up against a wall, they are mostly hidden from sight

[Octagon] Sorry, but once you start a Spleef game that's the only way to end it. There's no way out of the arena except to auto tp when all the opposing team has dropped and hit respawn.

[CN] - I didn't know that!

[Octagon] I hear that a lot. Most of the players here are children and they tend not to read rules carefully.

[CN] - I... I just wanted some new friends to play with...- He's still shaking and a couple of tears roll down his cheek

[Octagon] Kneels down and pats his shoulder- Are you lost? Did you wander in from the void?

[CN] Shakes his head- My brine brought me because I asked her...

[Octagon] There's another Herobrine on the server????

[CN] - She visited earlier...

[Octagon] Blinks- The white-haired brine?

[CN] Nods- Yeah, she's my brine

[Octagon] Would you like me to find her for you?

[CN] Nods-

[Octagon] Reaches out for his hand - then that's what we'll do. I'm Octagon by the way.

[CN] - You already know my name...- He cautiously takes the offered hand

[Octagon] Uses his free hand to try and get Lie's attention in the chat-

[Enix] Notices and pauses from pointing out different types of planes someone has built high above the harborside- Oh dear... it seems your NOTCH had a bit of an accident.

[Lie] - Is he okay?

[Enix] He respawned, but Octagon says he's okay. Just a bit shaken up. It seems he decided to join a game of Spleef with some players.

[Lie] - Oh dear, take me to him?

[Enix] Of course. - He takes her hand and tps her to Octagon and Cn. The two of them were passing through a small park when the others appeared.

[Lie] - CN...

[CN] Runs for Lie and hugs her-

[Lie] - Shhh, it's okay, I know it hurt

[CN] Is sniffling-

[Lie] - Thank you for helping him Octagon

[Octagon] Well... I didn't help much. I kinda had to drop him to end the game...

[Lie] - I see, I'm going to guess he shifted forms to avoid the lava?

[CN] Hugs Lie a bit closer as she rubs his back-

[Octagon] Yes. He set off several accusations of cheating and hacking.

[Lie] - Oh CN... I'm sorry, he's never really interacted with players before and he's never died before either

[Octagon] Well he's welcome to play, he just needs to stick to safer things.

[Enix] Wait, he's not lava-proof?

[Lie] - What games would be alright? And no, he's not

[Octagon] Makes an expansive gesture, - this is a good place to start. - The park around them has several groups of kids playing. Some are doing parkour on little obstacle courses, and others are clearly playing tag or hide and seek- There's a hedge maze too, people like to see who can solve it the fastest.

[Lie] - Alright, maybe next time. I think somebody has had enough excitement for now

[Octagon] I understand. Kids get overwhelmed.

[Enix] One's first death is also no small thing.

[Lie] - Yes, I remember my only death so far, I'd never wish it on anybody. Thank you for letting us visit- She creates a way home and the other two get a brief image of spawn as Lie passes through with CN

[CN] After a couple of hours he flies over to Firebirds tree-

-Firebird's sitting in one of the higher spots writing in a book, His tail dangles down like a brightly colored banner,-

[CN] Spots the tail and make a beeline for it. He turns back mid air and barrels into Firebird, pulling him into a hug-

[Firebird] Woah CN! -Nearly falls backwards as CN slams into him, but doesn't. He hugs CN back with one arm- What's up with you?

[CN] Looks up, his eyes still red from crying- I... I died...

[Firebird] Oh dear... I'm sorry you had to experience that.. I don't like it either..

[CN] - I was playing a game with some... With some players and beneath the snow was lava! I tried to fly away! They all started calling me a hacker!

[Firebird] Players can be like that... It's alright... -pets CN- Players don't see us the way we do.

[CN] - It hurt so much, and that other NOTCH made me fall into it...

[Firebird] He did what? -Angry bird? Angry bird-

[CN] - He said that was the only way to end the game...

[Firebird] I doubt that...

[CN] - That's what he said! He's on the server next door if you don't believe me!

[Firebird] I'll have to have some words with them...

[CN] Snuggles in closer to Firebirds side- Can I stay here tonight?- He's still a bit shaken up

[Firebird] Of course you can. Do you want to stay up here with me? Or do you want a bed?

[CN] - I'll stay up here...

[Firebird] Alright. -Shifts around so he can keep writing with CN in his lap-

8 notes · View notes

dovesandsparrows · 7 years

Text

D&S Collab: First Date!

( first entry - previous entry - next entry ) It was the first time in years since they had a moment to themselves like this.

He owes his life to Angela, after all.

Someone from before the recall, before the letters, before Blackwatch. He was so blinded by darker purpose that in those early days, he never truly appreciated her – and it was well past time to start showing it.

But a date? What was we thinking.

A lot of time was spent talking. Brief comments on the stage of Angela’s research in Oasis. The training Genji underwent while in Nepal with his master. All of these, things the both of them had previously mentioned to each other via their letters, but speaking to each other as if they hadn’t in ages. Before they knew it, they’d already spent an hour just speaking with each other.

Eventually, both found themselves quietly looking on at Gibraltar’s horizon, the Alboran Sea, after finally exhausting each other’s dialogue.

“Quite the view.” She said, breaking the silence. She wrapped her hands around his arm, then leaned gently against him.

Genji replied. “Let us make the rest of our day just as extraordinary, Doctor.”

She shot him a look, but before she could say anything, a sudden gust of air rushed to greet them as a shuttle quickly descended from above. As the door opened, Genji ushered her inside with a wide grin on his face. A familiar icon lit the shuttle’s screen and immediately began keying the controls.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Ziegler.” said Athena. Pictures and menus began populating the screen.

“I’ve pre-selected several high-rated restaurants from Portugal to Spain in preparations for your date. I’ve also included other restaurants and activities as recommended by your fellow agents, as they say, ‘to keep things interesting.”

Angela watched on as the screen continued to populate with more imagery, then looked to Genji for an opinion.

He shrugged. “Surprise us?”

“Already having trouble deciding lunch as a couple?”

“Hey!”

“Coordinates locked. Please enjoy this safety video while the shuttle takes you to your destination…”

Spanish cuisine. Honestly, he’d still say it wasn’t too spicy as Angela was claiming it to be, but then again, he was the one lacking about 90% of his tastebuds. She wasn’t enjoying the meal – but she wasn’t exactly upset with the date. She was laughing. Perhaps finding enjoyment with his company? He found comfort in the fact that she was at least smiling.

“No need to make such a face, Doctor Ziegler.” Genji teased. “You almost look like you’re not enjoying it!” She retorted. “Oh? I’d thought you to be the last person to judge one by just appearances, Mr. Shimada.”

He laughed, and pointed to a pair entering the restaurant – a rather tall and bulky omnic marked by the heavy plating of it’s face, lead by a stocky man with a thick stubble. Both were matching in particularly expensive looking suits.

“Looks are deceiving Doctor. Take those fine gentlemen for example.” Genji said, looking on at the pair as they seemed to be calling over one of the staff. Angela rolled her eyes and made an exaggerated ‘ha-ha.’

A beat.

Something flashed into Genji’s eyes. A glare – but from where? The metal finish off a weapon, pulled freely from under the stocky man’s suit.

Angela saw it too. “Uhm.. Maybe not these ones, Genji.”

Two more entered behind them, clad in the same suits. One bore facial tattoos, and the other with extensive piercings. These weren’t some sort of professional group. Just simple thugs.

“Genji…!”

“I see it.”

A surfacing silence washed itself over the restaurant as more and more people witnessed the armed party enter. People began to choke and gasp, sliding back in their chairs to stand as if ready to run, while others simply waited, frozen to their table in absolute fear.

But not them.

He caught a glimpse of Angela, her face twisted in what seemed like worry and concern, and a single bead of sweat that began to roll down the side of her cheek. But he knew better than to believe her frightened by something such as this – no, he could see it in her eyes, which danced from corner to corner of the room. The number of innocents, possible escape routes… her brilliant mind was already devising an escape plan. But considering the situation, there wasn’t much room to deliberate. His process was far less complicated. Perhaps instinctual. He crouched low and assumed a stance, like a predator ready to pounce – mechanisms whirred and shimmered to life from under his suit as his greater cybernetic functions steadily became combat-capable.

Four targets.

Quick triggers with bigger tempers. But all he needed was a chance to divert their fire away from the civilians, just one moment to allow them and Angela to escape – just one. In an instant, he uncoiled like a whip, launching himself forward at blinding speeds. First was the Omnic. Genji pivoted his body midair, throwing his foot squarely across it’s jaw, shattering it to pieces.

Three left.

Using his remaining momentum to carry himself forward, he wasted no time as he landed, and sprang forward yet again. This time, the man with the piercings. The man had barely a moment to aim as Genji swiftly brought his knee to his face.

Two left.

He tumbled across the ground and onto his feet, breaking into a sprint. He was able to take down two of them almost instantly, but now he had lost the element of surprise. Patrons were already scrambling over tables and chairs. Angela was directing them. He had to draw their fire.

They emptied their magazines as Genji nimbly zig-zagged through their fire, closing in on them – that pressure made them more frantic, and it showed. Their aim was sloppy.

Click click click. The sounds of an empty magazine. Genji seized the moment and jumped forward one last time, planting another forceful kick into the tattooed man’s face.

One left.

Genji rose to his feet slowly, and turned to face the leader, whom pulled a knife from his belt. “It took me thirty seconds.” Genji chuckled, then continued. “Give it up. You are outmatched.” “Like hell!” yelled the man, and charged. Genji sighed, then braced.

Catching the man by the arm, Genji tucked under and threw the man over his shoulder – servos audibly groaning under the weight – and with alarming force, threw the man face-first into the ground with a resounding thud.

Four criminals, pacified.

The manager was speechless, judging by the stunned look on his face. Genji approached him and helped him to his feet, dusting the debris from his fancy suit. A quick survey showed no major injuries.

Angela began to call out to him from outside.”Genji! Over here!” Shit. How could he forget? He finished checking with the manager by giving him an awkward pat on the back. Though his suit was torn up from the gunfire, he dusted himself as best he could, and even pulled a large piece of metal from his shoe, which he wasn’t sure exactly where it came from. Oh, wait. Walking to the now-jawless Omnic he had kicked earlier, he gently placed the contorted metal into it’s hand.

“Apologies for that, my friend.” said Genji to the confused omnic. “But you and your friends did ruin my date. I suggest a change in occupation, if you ever get the chance.” He walked away unsure if the Omnic had refused to reply, or was simply unable to. “Genji!” cried Angela as she ran to him.

“Doctor Ziegler! I’m glad you are safe –” Genji replied, but was cut off by a quick slap across his face. “That was dangerous!” She yelled. Her look of disappointment cut into him deeply, though he smiled knowing she was merely worried. “I am fine, Miss Ziegler.” he said softly. She pouted, and continued to glare.

“…I mean, my dear Angela.”

Almost instantly, her anger melted away by the blush on her cheeks, which she hid as she pressed her face against his chest. Or maybe it was exhaustion? It was difficult to tell. She spent a moment pressed against him before speaking, albeit muffled by his suit.

“If this is your idea of a date, I’m not having the rest of it.”

Genji laughed, and wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders. “The sun has yet to set, dear Angela. I believe I owe you much more excitement than this.”

She sobbed.

Welcome back to the D&S Fab Collab event! Our dramatic telling of Genji and Mercy’s first date! Coming third on our lineup was an action-packed submission written by @helljumper!

♚ For illustration continuations, please limit these works to 8 panels. For prose continuations, please limit these fics to about 1k words. These are not benchmark figures, just the maximum amount for a submission.

♚ Submission from the next participating member is due on the 15th of May, either submitted to the blog or DMed to any staff member on the Discord server.

♚ Applications to participate for this round or “arc” have been closed, if you missed out, please keep an ear out for announcements about the commencement of the next prompt!

Please note: At present, this event remains a collaborative effort only for those DnS members who have signed up. You are welcome to observe and make suggestions as to the telling of our tale, but contributing to the story remains limited at this time.

If you want to join our server to participate in future events like this one, please send us an ask off anon or message our blog requesting a link.

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#gency #emergenji #genji shimada #angela ziegler #mercy #d&s fab collab #submission

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kuriquinn · 8 years

Text

The Call

General Disclaimer

AN: My contribution for Sakura’s birthday. Quickly jotted down on my extra long lunch break ^_^ Enjoy!

“This,” Sakura Uchiha grumbles as she drives her fist into the face of a particularly grimy bandit, “is not how I expected to spend my birthday.”

Sasuke makes a vaguely inquiring noise as he carries out a variation of his Shishi Rendan, sending his opponent flying through the air with several cracked bones.

“Never mind,” she mutters, ducking a clumsy kunai strike and using her attacker’s momentum to throw him over her shoulder.

The large band she and Sasuke have stumbled upon have been plaguing the nearby village for months, according to the inhabitants. They’ve take up residence on the only bridge in the area and have been charging travellers a toll to get by. Those who refuse have been violently robbed and left for dead, according to the warnings of several survivors.

It should have been the work of ten minutes to neutralise them and tie them up, but neither she nor Sasuke expected the majority of them to be former Kusa-nin. Even in this time of peace, missing-nin present a constant problem – especially those who made their livelihood pursuing war.

At least the Akatsuki had an actual purpose – these creeps just want to bleed people dry for their own benefit!

In the end, in the name of expedience rather than anything else, Sasuke traps them all in a genjutsu and Sakura rounds them all up. She’s kept the use of her strength to a minimum, not wanting to accidentally destroy the bridge they are trying to liberate.

“How long will the genjutsu last?” she asks as she finishes securing the dazed men together.

“Long enough to lead them back to the village,” Sasuke says. “The headman didn’t seem very confident in our success. I doubt he would send anyone after us to see if we survived.”

“Well, you can’t expect everyone to have heard of us,” Sakura teases, stretching out her overworked muscles and cracking her knuckles. “In fact, I thought you preferred anonymity.”

“Hm.”

She wanders over and begins to examine him for signs of injury; she knows there’s no point – none of the bandits were anywhere near as fast as he is – but it’s an excuse to touch him. She finds as many of those as she can, these days, since he permits it.

Then they are retrieving their belongings from where they fell before the fight, and preparing to continue on their way.

“How did you picture it?”

Sakura jumps, a little startled by the non-sequitur, and looks up at her husband. “Hm?”

“Your birthday,” he answers stiffly, avoiding her eye. “I assume you want to mark it somehow? That’s…what people do.”

It’s a statement that comes out like a question, and Sakura giggles.

“You sound so much like Sai right now,” she tells him, and her husband’s expression sours like he doesn’t know whether to be offended or confused. She can sort of see his point – she never imagined the day where she would compare Sasuke to Sai, instead of vice versa. “Don’t worry about it. I haven’t made a big deal about my birthday in years.”

Not since before you left, she doesn’t say out loud.

“But if you did?” he prompts, and she sees the calculation going on behind his eyes. Some long-buried social awareness has informed him that this is something of importance, and he’s trying to at least make an effort at showing an interest.

She beams at the gesture, but shakes her head. “It’s fine, really. I don’t do very much. Dinner with my family and friends, eat lots of sweets that I wouldn’t normally... But we don’t have to do anything. I honestly didn’t think about it until today – and that’s only because I’ve been keeping track of my cycle.”

Sasuke doesn’t catch on right away, but when he does he goes red and turns away. “That’s the sort of thing you think about in the middle of a fight?”

Sakura bites her lip to keep from laughing; six months of marriage, and he’s still shy talking about anything related to their sex life.

Well, too bad, darling, one of us has to be aware of these things. It’s way too soon for me to get pregnant – and honestly, I want you to myself a little longer!

“I think about a lot of things in the middle of a fight, it’s called multi-tasking,” she retorts. “Do you want to know what else I was thinking?”

The last question comes out as a leer, making him roll his eyes and walk away from her. Sakura laughs, but the subject is dropped.

She doesn’t hear any more about it, and the rest of the day passes in the way as countless before have. She and Sasuke deliver the troublemaking bandits to the local authorities, she restocks their supplies while he sends a mission report (she’s a little surprised, because she usually has to nag him about it), and they continue on their journey.

They eat their dinner ration quietly, and then make love not so quietly by their campfire, and Sakura falls asleep perfectly content in her husband’s arms. She might miss home, occasionally – and this might be the first birthday she has ever celebrated without her parents or her friends – but she has Sasuke for the first time ever, and that’s its own gift.

One she wouldn’t trade for anything.

A week later, they find themselves approaching one of the busier towns on the border between Fire Country and Grass Country. Sakura is confused.

“Weren’t we supposed to be heading through the mountains?” she asks. “It’s the fastest way to Iwa.”

“I need to make a stop.”

“For what?”

“You’ll see.”

Sakura rolls her eyes. Sasuke has never lost his propensity for being vague. It’s better now, of course, usually he’ll answer her if it’s a matter of importance, but if it’s something he considers trivial he becomes as noncommittal as ever. She knows it’s an ingrained habit from his youth – being alone he never needed to clarify his own motives, and she suspects when he travelled with Taka he was used to just having his decisions followed.

It’s a habit she’s trying to break him of, slowly.

Konoha wasn’t built in a day, she reminds herself.

Instead of getting upset, though, she quietly reminds him, “You’re supposed to tell me when you change our travel plans.”

“Hm.”

From the tone, that’s both an agreement and an apology, and she lets the matter drop. They enter the bustling town, joining the busy crowds of people doing their everyday business. Sasuke is tense, as per usual in a more populated area, and watches their surroundings from behind the curtain of his hair.

“Alright, what’s around here anyway?” Sakura asks, curious as to what business has her husband deviating from his own plans.

“Food, for now,” he says, nodding toward an izakaya across the street. “Come on.”

“Didn’t you have to make a stop somewhere?”

He glances up at the sun, judging its height, and shrugs. “It can wait a little bit.”

She begins to protest, but her stomach growls a complaint. She sighs. “Alright, if you say so…”

To her surprise, when they get there, Sasuke indicates she should grab them a table while he orders. She spends several seconds staring at his back in surprise – he tends to avoid talking to people if he can make her do it – but shrugs and goes along with it.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or just keep me guessing?” she asks him when he comes to sit.

Sasuke raises an eyebrow, as if to question what she’s talking about. It’s the Sasuke Uchiha version of ‘who, me?’ and she’s not buying it for a second.

Their food arrives and Sakura can’t help but stare. Since they started travelling, she’s accustomed herself to simple fare – filling meals that are fulfill nutritional needs and provide energy, and which fit into their meagre budget. What their server places before her are a variety of her favourite dishes – anko dumplings, umeboshi and anmitsu.

“You…ordered all this?” she questions, staring at the spread in surprise.

Sasuke shrugs. “There aren’t going to be any places to stop between here and Iwa. Might as well indulge while you can.”

“I get that, but…why would spend money on this? You hate sweets,” she protests.

“Which is why you’re eating them and I’m not,” he replies, busying himself with a plate of nigiri.

Her mind struggles to come up with another objection. “Can we afford this?”

“It’s fine.”

“But –”

“Just eat, Sakura, we can’t sit here all day,” he tells her.

She narrows her eyes at him in suspicion, but the food smells so good. She decides to dig in first, and then question him again later. Possibly when he’s full and his senses have dulled.

(Well, not dulled, but he tends to be in a better mood after he’s eaten.)

Throughout the meal, he keeps glancing out the window, eye on the sun. At some point, he must see what he was looking for, because he stands.

“Come on. We have to go.”

“What? Why?” Sakura has barely finished the last dumpling when he stands.

“We have an appointment to keep,” he says, already heading out the door. She scrambles to grab her cloak and get to her feet, feeling wrong-footed and rushed.

‘What appointment?” she demands, her cheeks turning red in irritation. She is quickly approaching the end of her patience, and if Sasuke doesn’t start talking, she’s going to punch him.

“You’ll see.”

Make that a wall, she decides, cracking her knuckles. Definitely throwing him into a wall. He can take it.

They find themselves in the public square, in front of a tiny glass structure; inside she can see a telephone.

“A phone booth,” she states, feeling as if things have suddenly become very anti-climactic.

Phones have been cropping up in most developing towns lately, although most people still rely on letters. Telephones aren’t even very common back home – when she left, there were only three located in the Hokage’s residence, the hospital and the Intelligence Division. So although they are a novelty, it doesn’t explain what has Sasuke behaving so…oddly today.

“Darling,” she says sweetly, not quite managing to disguise the edge in her voice. “An explanation. Now, please.”

“Here,” he says, handing her a slip of paper with a number on it. She frowns at it, vaguely recognising it as the line to the Hokage’s office. “Call it.”

“Why?” she asks, suspicious – then worried. “Is there something wrong back home? Did we get orders to come back? Or – is someone sick, is that why – ?”

“Sakura. Just…do it,” he groans, reminding her so much of his exasperated twelve-year-old self that she would laugh if she wasn’t irritated.

She narrows her eyes, “Only because it could be life or death. And when I’m finished, you and I are going to have a long conversation about sharing vital information and generally not being a jerk.”

She misses his reaction to her threat as the line suddenly connects, and someone picks up on the other end.

“Hello?” she greets, uncertain. “Ka – uh, Lord Kakashi?” She often forgets to call him by his title, which she knows he’s fine with, but in official company it’s not a good idea. “It’s Sakura –”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

The sudden blaring, chorus of voices makes her jump, holding the receiver about a foot away from herself.

What the – ?!

“Belated birthday,” Kakashi’s dry voice corrects afterward.

“Congratulations, Sakura!” Naruto yells, as if they’re both standing at opposite ends of a training ground and not connected by phone. “We miss you! When are you coming home?”

“Naruto?” she cries, eyes wide and a smile breaking out over her face despite her earlier ire. “And Kakashi-sensei – I – you guys – ?”

“We’re not the only ones here, believe it!”

“C-congratulations on your birthday,” Hinata says, so quietly after the burst of sound that Sakura has to strain to hear her.

“Yes - congratulations on becoming one year older, Ugly.”

“Sai, don’t say such insulting things!” Shizune cries, but then adds, “I hope you’re well, Sakura,”

“Hey, Forehead!” another voice on the other end jeers. “Have you started getting any grey hair yet? Or are you already cheating and using that seal of yours?”

Sakura, dazed, lets out a startled laugh. “What…jealous, Pig?”

“As if – I’m going to be gorgeous when I’m ninety,” her best friend sniffs, “But they say people with your complexion age horribly, so make sure you wear a hat in the sun or your face will look like boot-leather. You wouldn’t want to stick Sasuke with a hag the rest of his life.”

“Better a hag than a skank like you,” Sakura sneers facetiously.

“Sakura, be polite!” another voice says sharply, and her jaw drops.

“M-Mom?”

“And your old man!” her father pipes up.

“You’re both there, too?!”

“We haven’t gotten a phone yet, and so your husband suggested Lord Seventh ask us to be here when you were scheduled to call in,” her mother explains. “Congratulations on your birthday, sweetheart. I only wish you were home so we could celebrate it with you.”

“We can’t keep this up for very long,” Kakashi goes on to apologise. “Long-distance is hard enough between Kage on a secure line, but I hear those payphones drop calls very easily. Hopefully Sasuke found you a decent one.”

Her eyes flying to Sasuke. He is leaning in the doorway of the phone booth, pretending to look uninterested, but his eyes gleam like an inordinately pleased cat.

“…dinner with my family and friends, eat lots of sweets that I wouldn’t normally…”

Her words from the day of her birthday come back to her, and suddenly everything clicks.

He planned this.

You sneak, she mouths, leveling a mock glare at him. Which causes him to shrug and turn his back on her, but not before she notices the smirk on his lips.

“Remember,” her father is joking, “When you get old, your secrets are safe with your friends – they’ll never share them because they can’t remember them!”

Naruto guffaws, and Sai muses, “Ah. I understand. Because old age brings with it neurological deficiency.”

“That’s…er…not what I was going for…”

Sakura is laughing again, delighted. There’s an itch in her nose and a tightness in her eyes that warn that tears are imminent, but she doesn’t care.

“Thank you all so much,” she says. “I didn’t expect to hear anything from you – I mean, you’re all busy, you didn’t have to take time out of your schedules –”

“It’s either this or expense reports,” Kakashi tells her.

Shizune starts to say something, but there is a warbled noise on the line.

“I missed that,” Sakura says. “I think the connection is giving out.”

“Then we’ll make it quick,” Ino says. “We miss you. I can’t wait for you to get home, we have so much to talk about!”

“Don’t worry about the clinic, Sakura, it’s still running smoothly,” Shizune adds. “We continue to receive quite a lot of support. It will all be here for you when you return.”

“Thank you…”

“Oi! Tell Sasuke he’d better be treating you right!” Naruto orders. “Or I’ll march out there and whip his sorry ass, believe it!”

“Naruto, for once in your life, can you not make this about you and Sasuke?” Kakashi sighs.

“Have you had birthday sex yet?” Sai wants to know.

There’s the sound of an open hand smacking against skin. “Don’t you ask my daughter that! You respect their privacy, young man!”

“I…apologise.”

“That being said, sweetheart, when are we getting grandchildren?” her mother asks pointedly. “You only have so much time, dear, and if you don’t hurry –”

“Ehh?! Mom, stop talking!” Sakura shouts into the receiver, face burning. “I can’t believe you’re saying this! I’m only twenty-one!”

In his place by the door, the back of Sasuke’s neck turns red, ands he knows he’s not as ignorant to the conversation going on as he pretends.

“Let us know when you reach Iwa safely,” her father says. “It’s always a comfort to receive your hawk.”

“Of course, Dad,” she whispers.

“And maybe send us an actual letter once or twice instead of a note,” her mother demands. “I don’t have the patience to decipher what you mean. And what about some pictures, hm? Would it kill you to find somewhere and snap a few keepsakes so I know you’re both taking care of your health?”

“We’re kind of trying to keep a low profile,” Sakura deflects, and then winces as a crunching, static sound drowns out her words and any response.

“ – like we’re losing you,” she hears Kakashi says when the sound comes back.

“Yeah, I think so too,” she agrees. “I’m so happy to have spoken to you all – Sasuke and I miss you guys. We’ll talk again soon, alright? Goodbye!”

“Goodb –!”

There’s a click, and then a dial tone.

Her world seems to shift, the brief illusion of being back home disappearing, replaced once more with the surrounding market place. Sasuke straightens up, considering her, and something like alarm crosses his features at the sight of her teary eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I didn’t…I never expected…”

She hadn’t realised how much she missed them all. Talking to them exercised a demon she didn’t even know she had, but she finds herself unable to articulate that point.

She shakes her head in an effort to clear it.

Then, she grabs him by the hand and begins to drag him away from the phonebooth.

“Sakura – what are you – ?”

“We need to get out of here,” she tells him, looking for the closest route out of the town centre.

“…Why?”

“Because I’m about to rip off all of your clothes, and I don’t think these nice people would appreciate me doing that in public.”

Sasuke’s face burns, but he allows her to lead him away without protest.

終わり

Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated!

クリ

#hbdsaku #happy birthday sakura #sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sakura uchiha #sasuke uchiha #fluff #birthday fic #sasuke is secretly a marshmallow #kuriquinn #legacy of fire

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