#dart programming language

[callmeakaashi]

– can you blame me? ❀*ੈ⋆ ⋆

synopsis: you and tsukishima have been rivals for years now. you know what makes the other tic – and recently it's been your ex-boyfriend. the two of you are forced to be student panelists but turn into more when a research mixer happens the first night. genre: grad school!au. angst, rivals-to-lovers. enemies-to-lovers. fluff. angst. milddd smut (if you squint). wc: 3.4k warnings: lite smut. drug usage. drinking. language. taglist: @chososbbygrl (because you always believed in my writing <3)

kei tsukishima is not your friend. he's very far from it actually. he was just another annoying-ass man from your grad program. another asshole ready to correct you when your answers strayed from fully correct, or even just simply unsure.

but now, him and you were boarding your flight for the annual neuroscience convention your school attended.

being the first and second (respectively) in your class, it was apparent you'd be student ambassadors as soon as it was even mentioned.

of course, he had to one-up you by being the first to volunteer.

and you couldn't have that. so here we are at 4am. in line to board, him behind you – and your fucking delta app wouldn't load. "pfft." he snorted. "you should've just added it to your apple wallet, y'know like a normal person?"

"shut. up. kei." you sighed under your breath, connecting your phone to and from the airport wifi again before finally seeing the pass.

"about damn time." he sneered.

it would be a long trip.

you slept throughout the flight, occasionally waking for refreshments before leaning your head against the window and dozing back off. but as you landed, you began to wake. "god, we're already here?" you said to yourself, mostly.

"and i can't believe you chose to sleep through it, instead of prepare." tsuki said, dryly, not even looking up from his laptop.

"maybe if you actually had a life outside of this shit, you would stop being so uptight about it."

"and maybe if you cared a little more, that-"

the landing announcement had begun. the two of you went silent, pushing your trays up and beginning to adjust your belongings.

out of the corner of your eye, tsuki sucked his teeth and shook his head at you before giving his full attention to his phone.

"pathetic.." he said, beginning to stretch as he stood.

the plane had landed now, and san diego wasn't that far away anymore. "bitch." you muttered under your breath, bumping your shoulder against his as you reached for your bag.

his head whipped around and though your eyes were on your bag, trying to steady it in your hands before putting it on the ground, you could damn near feel his eyes narrowing. "welcome to san diego and thank you for flying with us this morning!" one of the flight attendants chirped. you gave a half smile. it was 5am. there's almost nothing to smile about if there's not a redbull in sight.

"ignore her. you know how mornings are for some people." tsuki laughed, nudging you with his elbow. "you know, i actually hate you?" you mock asked, walking through the terminal at this point.

"oh, the feeling is mutual. i see why that little boyfriend of yours isn't on your profile anymore" your boyfriend. well, ex.

"and why that little girlfriend of yours is.. what? nonexistent? like any grown woman wants to put up with your mouth 24/7." you spat. silence. he didn't turn around but you saw his jaw tense.

it just slipped out. and he'd mentioned your ex first. if hurting his feelings is the price you have to pay to get some silence – maybe it's worth it.

the uber was silent too. tsuki, full of arrogance, was headphones on in his own little world looking at the map as you moved deeper into the city.

"i wouldn't want a girlfriend like you, anyway." he finally says softly, leg bouncing viciously.

"that was never an option."

the driver's eyes dart between the two of you before he turns the music up a few notches.

a sigh escaped your mouth as you slumped lower in your seat, pulling your hoodie down to feel some sense of comfort.

the golden state was gonna hold all the bad memories, ironically, it seems. between being stuck with tsuki for the next four days and your ex-boyfriend, iwaizumi, transferring to school here, nothing was promising.

no, it wasn't that he didn't want to be with you. he couldn't. not when you were across the country at johns hopkins. or at least that's what you told yourself after that second (and last) phone call where he said he couldn't do this anymore. and in his words, he "can't feel that you love him."

the car pulled to the front of some hotel, tall and sleek, across from a baseball stadium, and click, the car doors unlocked. "well.." the driver cleared his throat. "we're here."

your tongue scraped the roof of your mouth as you took in your surroundings.

check-in went by in a blur. tsuki talking to the receptionist, giving both of you a room key before the two of you were in an elevator heading to the eleventh floor, where the room was.

"so your slides aren't finished are they?" tsuki asked.

was this his version of small talk? acting – no, genuinely hating you, and then asking if your priorities were in order.

"why do you care?"

"because i deserve an actual rival, not this half-baked, heartbroken – whatever this is," he looked down at you, adjusting his glasses. "if i knew some breakup could just get you this distracted, i would've just broke your heart myself."

a breath caught in your throat. your lips parted and then pressed together again. your eyes met each other and he raised an eyebrow, expecting a response.

but this time, you didn't have anything. maybe tsuki breaking your heart would've been an easier fate.

the elevator couldn't open fast enough.

"look... my bad." tsuki sighed, pursing his lips.

"yeah, whatever." you grumbled.

standing at the room felt like the longest time ever. "fucking door." tsuki fumbled, attempting to scan the keycard on each side.

eventually, that little light turned green and he pushed the door open with more force than anticipated.

the room was nice. it was elegant in a quiet way. the windows faced the beach, a spacious desk in the corner near a lamp, two beds adjacent to the desk. a balcony, two chairs, and small table.

you made a mental note of another place to sneak off to tonight.

maybe california was getting a little more bearable.

"hm. this is calming." tsuki hummed, a flicker of warmth behind his eyes. you're half sure this is what his apartment back in baltimore looked like.

"yeah, it's nice." you said, striding through the room before placing your bags closest to the bed near the window. he rolled his eyes but didn't debate.

is this his version of an apology? either way, you'll take it.

the air from the ac was crisp. the sun shone through the windows. it's only 2pm. the only thing going on today was optional – some rooftop mixer for panelists and professionals and all of those swanky titles that were a little too old to be in the game. shaky hands of surgeons past their prime.

it was enough to make your eyes roll. plus, unless something drastic has changed, chances are your ex, iwaizumi would be there too.

you unpacked your lime suitcase and changed into some pajamas. between jetlag, tsuki, and a full four-day conference, missing a mixer wouldn't kill you.

the free drinks would be the only thing missed. your internships lined out the door and a resume so long, even google wouldn't read it. who cares.

you huffed as your back collided with the bed. tsuki shot you a look.

"don't you dare," he began. "we have a mixer tonight. this isn't a vacation."

"fuck off." you shot back, popping an edible into your mouth like candy. "i wanna watch my movies in peace tonight."

"what? to all the boys i've loved?" he chuckled. "you're not sitting in here sulking and crying all night."

"he'll be there, you do know that, right?"

"and?"

"i don't want to see the man that moved across the country and left me behind." you stretched, as the words burned the back of your chest.

"man," he snorted. "he couldn't even find the student center when he was on campus. that's your man? i bet he couldn't even find the clit."

"the WHO?" you laughed, shocked that he would even say something like that.

tsuki shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips as he took a drag of the vape he snuck on the plane. "it's true." he huffed.

"enough!" you hollered, an airy, out-of-breath giggle escaping your lips.

"i'll get you a lemon drop if you go." he taunted.

"deal."

the next few hours practically flew by. tsuki lost in his laptop before taking a nap. you scrolling through instagram, avoiding iwaizumi's green story bubble before falling into a dream of your own.

and then tsuki's three alarms – one for 8:15pm, another for 8:45pm, and the last one for 9:00pm. you only had one for 8:30. your eyes groggily opened to tsuki's perfectly made bed and the ties he's debating between strewn out onto the comforter.

"you really need a tie?" you sighed, clicking the power button on your phone to check the time.

9:03pm; 57 minutes until d-day.

"you're not seriously asking that, right?" tsuki half-groaned, looking you up and down out the corner of his eye.

you did know better than to ask. he always shows up dressed to a tee. he never not has. even his airport fit – charcoal grey sweatpants, hopkins pullover, matching headphones.

asking was just force of habit.

iwaizumi always dabbled between a regular tie, a bow, or honestly nothing – even just leaving one or two buttons undone for button-downs. your heart ached thinking of it before your eyes met tsuki's and he turned away.

you hadn't even realized but you'd been staring. the buzz of the edible still there.

"hm?" he hummed, questioning.

"nothing. don't worry about it, kei."

"you're being really fucking weird." tsuki sighed, before turning on his heels and heading to the bathroom. you caught a glimpse of his eyes in the mirror, still studying you.

the same look you've seen him give when the lecture slides start to get a little too complicated. that look that something's not accurate – not right.

you scaled the space between your luggage and the bed, carefully unwrapping the burgundy dress you brought for this event, just in case.

you slipped the dress on before throwing a t-shirt on over it to do your makeup.

you zoned out halfway through. prep done, brows filled, and lashes on. now for the main event.

you had both airpods popped in now, an amalgamation of your liked songs playing in your ears. until justin bieber's flatline kicked in, heavy bass pounding like a warning.

"she became a victim to my busy schedule"

your mind raced as the lyrics sunk deeper.

did iwaizumi ever miss you?

you missed his laugh. the way he'd scrunch his nose when he really laughed.

the absolute mess him and oikawa would make of his room before parties.

tears pricked your eyes at the thought of someone else getting that version of him. silly and loving, but not for you.

"shit." you exhaled, breathless and shaky.

you could feel eyes on you. tsuki sat on the edge of his bed now, adjusting strands of hair to look just the way he'd like. "what now?" he shot back.

you shook your head no but his footsteps felt closer. you tried to cover your face but he met your gaze in the vanity looking back at you.

"get a grip." his voice laced with something a little deeper than anger but a little softer than respect.

"iwaizumi's doing his shit right now. do not let your stupid little memories of him hold you back from doing what you gotta do."

he didn’t even blink. just stared you down in the mirror, sizing you up like he could will you back into yourself.

"right. you're so right, tsuki." the words fell out. "now what time is it?" he smirked, a low evil chuckle slipping out. "9:27. i'll leave your ass here if you're not ready by 9:50."

you whined but he just shrugged. "being early is being on time, sweetheart."

the rooftop was mildly packed. music drowned out in the background of voices. everyone looked polished, quiet luxury, but make it nerdy. the faint scent of lavender and vanilla wafted around you.

"so i do owe you a lemon drop," tsuki leaned into your ear, still looking around. the two of you made your way to the bar and before you knew it, you were being pulled away by advisors and researchers alike, talking about neurons and plasticity and some new "groundbreaking" research.

you spot tsuki across the room, laughing with some researchers from your undergraduate alma mater. he notices you staring and rolls his eyes before he points towards his phone.

ding, a text from him

"shouldn't you be, idk, mixing?"

"sorry, just didn't know you were an ass kisser"

"i'm glad you came." your advisor admits, as she puts a hand on your shoulder. "we need more talent like you in the field. passionate, dedicated – i'm excited to see what you do later down the line."

"thank you." you smile, taking another sip from your cocktail glass. your fingertips felt cold against the smooth glass and yet somehow your palms were warm, sweaty.

"go. enjoy yourself." she shoos you away proudly, and you make your way to one of the benches in the far corner, overlooking the city.

the warmth of the drink filled your chest and for the first time in what felt like a long time, you could actually breathe.

the skyline looked beautiful. fairy lights twinkled around you. the city didn't feel so painful anymore. it felt endless, like you were meant to be here.

a smile tugs on your lips as you catch tsuki leaned against the glass panel of the railing further down, smirking. his hands are in his pockets and then he glances over to you again, looking at you reflectively.

and then you see him. messy brown hair, a sage button down with the top two undone, that little gold chain. iwaizumi.

some girl had her hand on his chest.

he had seen you, face dropping slightly before getting back to his conversation.

your heart dropped. it felt like someone was sitting on your chest. like it had dropped the same amount of floors available. somewhere on the ground level, your heart was there. you were half sure it was scampering around in the lobby while everything around you crumbled.

your fingers gripped around your glass now, unsure of if letting go is something you're even capable of. a silent gasp caught in your throat.

"no. no fucking way." you muttered to yourself, eyes widening as he made his way over... with that girl.

the chances of seeing him tonight were supposed to be low. you'd done the stats in your head when tsuki offered the lemon drop. it was 1 (or 2) in 350, according to the eventbrite.

the music and the lights surrounding you felt dim and so far away. you'd placed your glass on the table in front of you without even realizing.

you couldn't see it now, but tsuki wasn't smirking anymore. his eyes were sharp, steady on you. he stood straighter now, faltering to come over after pushing himself off the railing.

he was in disbelief. the same shock you had. no way he was making his way over with some girl that wasn't you, her touching him the same way you would.

"hey." iwaizumi said, smiling coyly. it felt more like guilt than shyness. he'd never been an introvert.

"hey." you mirrored, unsure of there were any appropriate words in your heart for this interaction.

"what's up?" tsuki said, now behind you with a steady hand on the small of your back. his hands were cold but they radiated all over, backless dress be damned.

his eyes flickered between you, iwaizumi, and the girl. he smiled politely, aware of the company.

"yeah.." iwazumi cleared his throat. "just introducing my pretty girl to some of my old friends."

"doesn't look like there's much to introduce." tsuki chuckled, running his other hand through his hair.

"you sure?" your voice came out hoarse as you elbowed tsuki in the ribs. she chuckled, but nothing was funny.

"mmm, still a diva." iwaizumi said, mostly to tsuki. at this point, tsuki was the only thing grounding you. the only other options would be to actually float away or to punch him in the mouth.

no way he actually just said that. i'm the diva? and not the person who wanted a "change of scenery" and didn't just mean a different research program.

her eyes darted between you and iwaizumi, analyzing. "you're such an asshole, iwa," she giggled. "nice to meet you!" she chirped, sticking her hand out.

a chill crept up your spine. it was over. there was no hope of rekindling, even just feeling the grief and calling you. he had a girlfriend and you hated her. and worse, envied her.

the wind left your chest, you felt the tears start to well, and as much as you hoped they'd fall – they didn't.

instead the words "nice meeting you" escaped your lips and then you saw him. iwaizumi's eyes flickered between you, and the contact tsuki had with your back. patient, steady, drawing little circles as the interaction occurred.

"it's really good seeing you." tsuki said, his voice low.

his hands moved mindlessly – up your back, your neck, a subtle tuck of your hair behind your ear.

the contact felt normal, natural even – until he noticed. he didn't need to say it. his touch already did that.

it wasn't obvious, but enough to say "she's not yours anymore."

maybe it was the lemon drop or maybe just the tension building in your stomach.

fine. let him move on. maybe you would too.

the interaction ended there with iwaizumi being pulled away by some peers. tsuki's hand rested on your back as the two of you made your way to the bar.

"i fucking hate him." tsuki said, voice sharp and gravelly.

"me too." you said, the air in your lungs finally free.

the server had delivered your drinks and the liquor went down like water. your mouth was flowing now.

"y'know, he's actually a fucking cunt. and not like how you are." you chuckled.

tsuki snorted. "really? and what's exactly the difference?"

"at least you're honest. and you're hot in a brooding way. a way that says i understand you, not some surface-level frat boy shit." you rambled, gesturing with your wine glass swaying.

he scoffed, jaw slack before a giggle escaped his lips.

"you're fucking drunk," he cackled, shaking his head in disbelief.

"fuck you!" you shrieked. "but, you do get what i mean, right?"

"mhm," he took another sip of his drink. "so you're calling me emotionally mature?"

"and capable of feeling something deeper than a kiddie pool," you snorted.

tsuki's eyes dropped to your lips before he turned away for a moment, looking around the room at everyone still mingling, talking about god knows what.

your skin buzzed like static, radiating everywhere, and too much to be contained. heat rushed to your cheeks like a second drink hitting to fast.

"let's go." you rambled, hand finding tsuki's. his gaze snapped back to yours the second your fingers curled into his.

the two of you found your way to the elevator in what felt like a hurry. silence in the hallway as the music played sounding further away.

the doors shut and tsuki leaned past you to press the 11 button and the scent of his cologne pushed past your face – sharp, clean, and far too distracting.

"sorry if i said too much at the-,"

"shut up," he said.

you barely had time to blink before his lips were on yours. your hands slipped into the soft curls at his nape, the other curling into his tie.

a soft moan slipped from lips as your back met the cool elevator wall.

"man fuck him. and his girl. i've got the prettiest one in here."

tsuki's voice was low, raspy, and hot against your skin, just before he kissed right under your ear, trailing down your neck.

the elevator dinged.

your floor.

his tie was still in your fist. the two of you stood, breathless, looking at one another. you peeked out into the hallway, scanning your surroundings.

"come on."

tsuki's eyes darkened. his grip on your hand tightened as he began to lead you toward the room. the hallway blurred around you.

kei tsukishima was not your friend but maybe something a little bit more now.

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©callmeakaashi 2025.

[nexxen24]

Free Beer For A Year: Walker X Reader

Pairing: John Walker X Reader

Summary: When you and John are left at the Watchtower boredom starts to set in, but when he tells you about a bar and a perfect game of darts for free beer for a year, you decide to go have some fun and turn a simple contest into a bet.

Warnings: Just some language.

Word Count: 4090

AN: Since you all liked the first one, I thought I'd do it again!!! This one is a bit more lighthearted, less heavy and a bit cringey by the end imo haha. It's also a break from One Last Job since that fic got too heavy haha. Feel free to send over more John x Reader ideas!!(Also I love you if you get the references to the fake names the Reader and John use).

Free Beer for a Year

The last thing you wanted was to be stuck at the Watchtower with John F Walker…but there you were and sure Bob was around but he was always in his own head and you got bored easily. Half of the team, aka Ava, Yelena and Alexei were on some long winded mission that was going to take a few days, Bucky was off actually being a congressman in DC and dealing with Sam so that left you and a big empty tower…well…empty minus John Walker. The man was a nuisance, annoying and mean spirited with a massive mouth and an even bigger ego, determined to push every button that ever existed. 

It didn’t help that Walker was also a good looking man, not hard on the eyes and blessed with a head of blonde hair that always sat at just the right angle. You needed other people in the Watchtower so their attention could keep you from just sitting there and staring at John like he was some kind of painting in a museum, or a statue…a handcrafted, marble statue.

“No…not now,” you muttered and shook off the thoughts, going back to aimlessly stirring a drink you hadn’t touched in the close to twenty minutes you’d been sitting in the living room.

The TV was turned off, Bob was down in the library, even John was nowhere to be found but you just couldn’t make yourself do anything, it was maddening. Bob had made the undiagnosed ADHD joke before and you never believed him…but now. Maybe it was the past catching up with you, you were a HYDRA test subject like Bucky, grabbed in the early 2000’s as a young adult, thanks to a SHIELD mission gone wrong and experimented on when they dipped into mutant genes rather than just super soldiers. Portals, extremely good accuracy and enhanced durability is what you came out with and you know…trauma. Having Bucky around helped but with him gone…the memories were suffocating and you debated screaming just for the hell of it when Walker himself sauntered in.

Your eyes locked for a split second and you tried to keep yourself sane despite the display that he just brought forth into the common area, the tank top and shorts combo, not to mention his sweat drenched hair and half smile, it was intoxicating. He didn’t look away until you did and you just knew the guy had a smile on his face knowing that he got you, that he made you feel something, made you flustered. Anyone with eyes would be flustered and while John didn’t have the rock solid and carved chest of a classic comic superhero, his was more natural, soft and huggable in a weird way but still healthy and reflective of a training schedule he followed like it was a religion. 

Your mind wandered back to a moment a couple weeks ago when the memories leaked into your dreams and turned them into nightmares so you were up way earlier than normal with absolutely nothing you could do about it. Sleeping wasn’t an option and since it was closing in on 4am, no one else was awake so you started to wander, looking into corners of the Watchtower you’d never seen before and eventually stumbled into the massive gym two floors below the common area.

It was needed for a group like this and state of the art with only the best technology Val’s money could buy. Hologram training programs and workout equipment that not even pro-athletes had the pleasure of saying they trained with, not to mention a whole collection of equipment you couldn’t even begin to understand. Your workout of choice was a nice run through Central Park with Yelena and Ava in tow, maybe a coffee after, not the contraptions the boys seemed to adore. 

So you were just staring at one of them, trying to figure out how it all worked when John walked out from grabbing a shower and him bumping into a table and letting out a curse made you turn. You immediately regretted turning, spotting John in a pair of workout shorts, shirt off since he was in the process of putting it on when he hit the table. Your eyes locked on the shorts, hung low on his hips and when your eyes moved across his chest in appreciation and finally met his eyes you frowned at the smile on his face. It was cocky, like always, and you just knew that being so enamoured by a shirtless John was fueling his already massive ego. 

“Like what you see?” he asked and you looked away.

“Just wondering why you're up,” you muttered and he pulled on the shirt in his hands. 

“Why? Too early?” 

“It’s like 4:30,” you shot back and John shrugged. 

“I’m normally up this early, I like to workout before everyone else is up, then cook breakfast.”

“You sure it’s not lingering military training?” you asked and he chuckled. 

“It might be,” he muttered and got to work, setting up the machine and doing some strength training as you lingered by the door, unsure if you should leave him be. 

“Good luck,” you said and decided it was best to leave, let him do his own thing and you’d see him later when he made breakfast for the team. 

Hearing John admit that he was so stuck up about his workouts because of the military opened up your eyes to other things that he did because of it, the way he kept his room neat and always grabbed his food last, no matter what. As much as John refused to admit it…he cared for the team and maybe in some way…you especially. He didn’t look that annoyed when you two were left alone with Bob at the Watchtower and you liked the smile he shot you when he walked into the common room. Now, he was sitting across from you as you eyed the flyer he handed you when he walked in, a bright smile on his face. 

“What is this?” 

“An idea of what we can do today.”

“Free beer for a year,” you read and he grinned. “How?” 

“So…the bar is new, it opened like a week ago and they have this promotion where if you chug three of their signature pints of beer and play a nine dart finish, you get it for a year.”

“A nine dart finish?” 

“You have to complete a game of darts, as in three sets, in only nine darts. The traditional nine-dart finish requires a score of 60 with each of the first six throws: that is, with the first two shots of three. Leaving you with 141 to score on the last three darts which can be done in a few ways but a treble 20(60), treble 19(57) and a double 12 is probably what they’re after.”

“I’m assuming it’s pretty hard.”

“Professionals train their entire career for this game, the six sixties are already challenging but that 141 just adds a whole other layer. But…your powers…”

“I can do it no brainer,” you muttered and he nodded, a wide grin on his face. “Isn’t shooting darts after drinking beer…dangerous?” 

“Probably, the bar might not last and no one has managed it but today is the last day and you know me, I love beer.”

“What if…I want to win and don’t want to share,” you shot back and he frowned at you. 

“I mean…I’m pretty accurate but we’ll share the beer.”

“No…I want to beat you,” you said and John grinned. 

“Okay…what do I get when I win?” he asked and you chuckled. 

“Oh…that’s rich coming from you.”

“What do I get?” 

“Whatever the hell you want,” you challenged and had a small, miniscule hope that he’d ask for a kiss and really make the day interesting. “Loser buys. Food and the challenge.” 

“Fine, I’ll take that bet. Be prepared to run drills with me at 4am every day.”

“That’s what you want?” you asked and he shrugged. “A training partner.”

“Why? What do you want?” 

You thought for a second about what you could possibly gain from him besides a kiss that he might argue you were using to hold over his head. Asking for a kiss was a challenge in itself and a part of you worried he’d be offended. But there was another thing and John waited with baited breath for what you were gonna say, curious as to just how bold you were willing to be. 

“If I win,” you began and grinned. “You have to start sleeping in.”

“What?” 

“No more being up at 4, at least until 8 or 9.”

“Sleep in,” he muttered and you wondered if that hint of disappointment was really there. 

“Yeah…you’re not military anymore, you can afford some more sleep.”

“Okay…I can do my workout at 9,” he said and you smiled, glad he seemed to like the idea of getting a bit more sleep every morning. 

Sure you enjoyed seeing him workout early in the morning when you couldn’t sleep but the eye bags were clear, the fatigue was real and it had leaked into his daily life. If winning against him in a game of darts was going to make him sleep, then that was what had to be done, so you gave him a nod. 

“Shall we?” 

“Of course, let me change.” 

You nodded as John wandered off, sending you one last grin as he moved down the hall to get ready for your outing. You kind of hoped that he’d win, that he’d change his mind of making you a workout partner and a kiss might be on your horizon, or maybe a bit more. For as much as John annoyed you and drove you insane and acted like an asshole for literally ninety percent of the time you were around him, there was something about him that drove you insane…in a different way. Maybe it was the smile or the way his hair sat just right and how he got all sweaty when he worked out for too long or the stolen glances at the end of missions, a silent confirmation that you were okay. 

Or it was the moments where the memories of HYDRA came flooding back to you, the moments on missions where you ended up in one of their old bunkers and suddenly couldn’t think straight. There was a moment months back, a particularly bad mission where things got real dicey, inside a HYDRA facility of all places and the memories began to become too much. John was there, he caught your eye, he pulled you aside and even offered a hug when they wouldn’t stop.

That moment, pressed against his chest with all the nonsense going on around you was like a small moment of peace in a world full of fear. As much as John was eager to pick fights and be an ass, you’d seen his softer side and the softer side made all the little quips and the back and forth more than worth it. 

***

Big Cat Bar was located in Jersey, not New York but since the two states were practically next to each other, it wasn't that long of a drive. A part of you was worried that being Avengers and being out in public would cause you to be recognized but John didn't look that concerned. He was currently trying to park the car, a shared Black Ford Explorer, as you spoke your worries out loud.

“Won't we be recognized?”

“Just brush it off, say you get it a lot but aren't them.”

“Does that work?”

“I went with Yelena to get coffee a week back and there was this guy who kept looking at us, even though Yelena was in casual clothes, even had a hat on. Finally, I asked him about it and he went: “Are you that fake Captain America on the new Avengers team?” And I brushed it off and said I just looked like him and the guy went, “Oh good, that guy sucks.””

“He didn't.”

“He did, Yelena still hasn't forgotten it.”

You chuckled as John frowned and finally got the SUV into a good position before he cut the engine and jumped out. Getting recognition for your work was a new experience since before…everything was done in the shadows. Before HYDRA you worked for SHIELD, as one of their field agents, specializing in infiltration and recon, a master at being in the shadows. Not being seen was a blessing in your line of work, it meant you got the job done and did it right. Sure back when you saved New York from the debris and then Void the recognition was nice…but foreign, unheard of to you. Even being in crowds was a lot and you stuck close to John as he walked over to the bar, a wide smile on his face. 

“What can I get you?”

“We'd like to try your challenge.”

“Nine darts for one year?” The bartender asked and John nodded. “Alright, it's twenty bucks per entry and you have 3 hours to complete the game. We allow for extra time since lining up shots is quite hard. Oh also, the challenge ends if you miss one of those 20s on the first few darts.”

“Really?”

“I mean, there's no coming back.”

“Alright, we'll be careful,” John assured and handed the guy his card, eyeing you as a way of reminding you that you’d owe him if you lost. 

“Good luck,” the guy said and handed over the three pints as you both got to chugging them. 

At least the signature was good, quite good and it went down smooth, shared with John over a plate of nachos that he ordered because you needed fuel for the task at hand. After the three of them you could understand why any regular human would be tipsy but for two enhanced humans, you both felt fine. The bartender from before walked over to supervise and handed over the nine darts, reminding you both of the rule…miss one of the triple 20’s on the first six throws and you're out. He looked smug when he said it, under the impression you were gonna fail the first throw like most people but he was underestimating you.

Your ability, the one to do with accuracy, was unique…you picked a target and as if you weren't in control, your body lined itself up perfectly to hit it and it didn't matter what the projectile was. Guns, darts, even bottles of water chucked towards Bucky in training, every single one was thrown with perfect accuracy. John lacked the perfect part but he was still scarily accurate, the serum enhancing his vision and reflexes which allowed for small miniscule changes at the last possible second. He'd be a formidable opponent and lined up his shot as you picked the small slice of the triple 20 ring. When you reached back to throw the dart you could feel the way your arm tilted slightly back, adjusting since you were off and gave John a grin.

“Patrons of Big Cat, let us welcome our next two hopefuls trying to win free beer for a year. Who are you?”

“Uh…Lewis,” John muttered and you raised a brow as he turned to you.

“Ummm…Alice.”

“Lewis and Alice. You have three hours to throw nine darts and get to 501, I'll have you know that this is only possible if you manage to hit the triple 20 on each of the first six throws. Miss one…and you can't make it. Do you agree to these terms?”

“Yes,” John said and you gave the guy a nod.

“Alright, I'm Sean, find me at the bar when you're done,” he said and you could barely hear him mutter about how that wouldn't be long from now. 

“Ready?”

“More than ever,” you muttered and breathed out before letting the dart fly, hitting the twenty nearly at the same time as John. 

The small crowd gave you a cheer of encouragement and you laughed, grabbing the second and a sip of the fourth beer that you guys ordered just for fun. You eyed the twenty ring and your body adjusted as John had to manually move his arms to get himself in a good position. But the adjustment worked and the second dart also hit its mark as you glanced back at Sean, the man's jaw dropping. 

“This is almost too easy,” John shot back and you chuckled. 

“Almost, we should look like we're struggling.”

“Hey, we're giving them a show,” John shot back in reference to the crowd that had gathered around you. 

“Let's give them more.” 

You spent the better part of close to an hour, shooting all six triple 20's and the crowd had only gotten bigger. Sean had even wandered over, abandoning his place at the bar to ogle at your accomplishments. You were close to making it all the way to 501 and your accuracy hadn't slowed, even with another beer and a mojito in your system. You could keep going all night but knew that people were starting to be a bit suspicious of the pro dart players that just so happened to stumble in. The last three darts had to count and you stopped lining up your shot as John raised a brow.

“Yes?”

“I'll go after you, let's make this last.” 

“Okay then, enjoy the show,” he muttered and you rolled your eyes as he set himself up. 

You stood back a bit to give room and to admire the outfit he chose, a pair of cargo shorts, a white t-shirt, a Georgia Bulldogs hat and a button down adorned with small pictures of what looked like parrots. It was hot for New York in June so it felt appropriate and it was almost jarring to see him so casual. A few months back John refused to go anywhere without looking like an undercover cop but being around the team had made him soften a bit and you liked it. He looked like some kind of suburban dad out at the bar with some friends and it was a look you could learn to appreciate.

Your own attire had him turning his head when you stepped out in jean shorts, and an old Ramones t-shirt with an oversized blue and white flannel thrown overtop and your own hat, a Rangers hat since hockey had always been your sport of choice. It was casual and you liked being casual, it meant you were free to relax. No longer stuck in tech wear or spandex, easy to move and run in sure but not easy to relax in and you'd been waiting a long time to just relax.

“Watch this,” John muttered and nailed his seventh triple 20 of the round, lining him up for the nine dart finish.

“I can do that,” you muttered and moved up, eyeing the target before your body adjusted and you hit it a few seconds later. 

“Nice shot.”

“You sound like Wii sports,” you shot back and he chuckled. 

“Maybe I'll find a Wii online and I can beat you at golf at home,” he suggested and you smiled at the thought of a New Avengers Wii tournament. 

“We'll make another bet,” you said and John sighed, lining up his next shot, a triple 19.

“You'll probably lose that one as well,” he muttered and nailed the nineteen as the crowd roared, excited to see someone actually complete the nine dart finish. 

“Oh, I doubt it,” you muttered and nailed your own nineteen without even really looking, really amping up the crowd. 

“You're showing off, Alice,” he shot back and your spine tingled at the way he said your fake name.

“I always do, Lewis,” you said and smirked at the way his jaw clenched. 

“One last shot before you need to workout with me.”

“And if we both win?”

“I guess it all works out,” he muttered and turned, grabbing the ninth dart and letting out a deep breath. 

John adjusted himself, his arm shaking just a small bit as he pulled back and let the dart soar, the crowd silent in anticipation. He needed that twelve and he needed it to be doubled, being only 24 points away from 501. John watched as the dart looked like it hit the small outer double ring but upon further inspection, something was wrong. 

“Sean?” You called and he walked over, stepping forward to examine the board before calling you both over. 

To your collective shock the dart missed the ring by barely an inch, sitting on the wrong side of the small metal wire in the single twelve space. John was twelve away in nine darts and his perfect set was incomplete. The crowd let out a collective gasp when Sean announced it, shocked that after all this, the godlike dart player had finally missed. John sighed and you gave him a solemn pat on the back, wondering why he didn't look as upset as the crowd felt. 

“I guess I'm sleeping in tomorrow,” he muttered and you grinned, almost forgetting about the bet. 

“Yeah…”

“That's not what you wanted,” he said and you eyed him, moving back to throw your last dart. “Is it…you didn't want me to just sleep in.”

“No…I didn't.”

“Why not pick something else?”

“Because I was worried.”

“Of?”

“Of you thinking I made this stupid bet just to get what I wanted, that I was too chicken to act on my feelings and instead used this to avoid it.”

“Feelings?”

“Yeah…for you.”

“Really?”

“Look…don't get me wrong, you suck. But I can't get enough of it. Every time you say one of your stupid quips or start fights or call out bullshit while also doing something wrong it drives me insane.”

“In a good way?” John asked and you chuckled. 

“In a great way,” you assured and he smiled at you as you set up your last dart, knowing you could hit that twelve with your eyes closed. “I'll share my beer.”

“Oh…I don't fucking care about the beer.”

Your eyes widened when he grabbed your face as soon as you let go of the dart, pulling you in for a kiss. Sure enough those feelings weren't your own, John shared them and had been trying to find a way to get you alone for months. He assumed a simple game would do the trick and was thrilled when you turned it into a contest. He was going to change his mind if he won, the workout idea was nothing but bullshit, a way to get you to go. He loved the competition and the way your eyes lit up as you kept nailing every throw, getting closer and closer to that 501. 

When you and John finally turned to look at the board the dart wasn't even close to the 12 and most of the crowd had disappeared. You were shocked, for the first time since HYDRA you missed, you didn't hit your target. But when John pulled you into another kiss and practically wouldn't stop the whole ride back to the tower you understood. You hadn't really been aiming at the twelve, you didn't care about the beer, you just cared about him. Sometimes your powers were finicky, they aimed at things you never intended to hit but were just on your mind at the time. John was one of those things and sure you missed the twelve but no one could argue you didn't still hit your mark. 

For the next year, you and John frequented the Big Cat, first as a couple friends trying to figure out feelings and then on a couple dates. You liked their signature ale after all and the nachos weren't even half bad. But the best part was the small photo they hung above the dart board of the couple that got so close, that threw eight perfect darts. To everyone else you failed that night, you missed the mark but to you and John it was a perfect game. A perfect nine out of ten to put it in dart terms and you wouldn't change it for anything. Not to mention the relief when he kept your demand as well and you found yourself enjoying sleeping in next to him...way past 9am.

Sure the free beer would've been nice and your outings definitely wouldn't cost as much…but someone to share it with…now that was priceless. And it was all thanks to the slow creep of boredom settling in and the world's stupidest bet.

[strwberrybils]

FABLE AND TRUTH 6 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. back to my regularly scheduled programming…trying to upload everyday. i’m so excited about this series and what’s in store; enjoy !! wc. 12k

✧ 4:26 am, thursday ✧

billie’s pacing felt like an endless, drunken mess, the soft padding of her socked feet on the hardwood floor the only sound filling her quiet bedroom. every step was wobbly, uneven, the thuds of harder steps sinking into the floor. her phone sat on the edge of her desk, lit up and buzzing as her thumb hovered over the call button, swaying, like even it didn’t know what it wanted. 

her chest was tight, like she couldn’t get a full breath no matter how hard she tried. 

“god, this is so stupid,” she slurred, a bitter laugh bubbling up and spilling out, “so fucking stupid.” her voice cracked halfway through, and her giggles fizzled out into silence.

she ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the ends as if the dull ache in her scalp could distract her from the mess inside her head. the fight played on a loop in her mind, the words that you had thrown at her cutting deeper each time she replayed them. i don’t want you. at all.

“fuck,” she muttered under her breath, stopping mid-step and leaning against her desk. her fingers curled around the edge, gripping it tight enough to make her knuckles bleed white. she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will the memory away, but it was no use.

because the thing was— she did know you. at least, she thought she did. she knew how your hands trembled when you were nervous, how your eyes darted around the room when you were thinking too hard about something, how you bit your lip when you were holding back words that you weren’t ready to say.

but now? now, billie wasn’t so sure anymore. had she been wrong about you? had she pushed too hard? maybe you were right— maybe billie didn’t know you the way she thought she did. and that realization was almost worse than the fight itself.

she tried to really think through how you were feeling, but everything was so unclear. you go out with her, kiss her, and then run off like nothing happened? she tried to hear you out, but things weren’t making sense. she felt like you were projecting, like there was something else underlying your irrationality, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. 

oh, how sorry she felt. billie felt like she had did you wrong, like she should’ve been more careful, more understanding. but she knew that she couldn’t change what she did, what was said— it was all too late now.

she really liked you, if that wasn’t obvious enough. but given the way you placed your faith above anything else, the way that you carried yourself, she knew that deep down, you could never be interested in someone like her. and she couldn't blame you, she just didn’t fit into your lifestyle. 

she didn’t mean to make you feel like she was wrecking your morals, but she couldn’t stop herself. her crush blossomed when you two talked, and even more when you didn’t. because then, her imagination could roam. she could think of a world where she belonged in yours, where you two were absolutely inseparable. she could pretty much ponder about whatever she wanted, and if she thought long and hard enough, she could convince herself it was real. 

she had only met you shy of a week ago, and that was the bad part. usually, billie was more stoic, careful with what she said and did. she couldn’t let herself fall to easily, but it was like she was starstruck by you. 

and she hated it. 

she hated that everytime she got around you, she couldn’t get that stupid grin off of her face. she hated that when you touched her, even if it was on accident, her skin would light up, identical to the way her eyes did when she looked at you. she hated that your opinion was the only thing that mattered to her— but most of all, she hated how much she didn’t hate you.

because, in reality, she should. you hated her back, and that should’ve been a good enough reason for her to hate you, right? 

wrong. 

she wanted to chase after you, no matter how many times you’ve told her to stop, to let you go, pushing her away. she was drawn to you no matter what you did to her, and that’s what billie despised. whatever you did, said, however you acted— it was never enough to get her to stop. 

but a little sliver of her understood. she knew deep down that it was just how you were— a faithful Christian and a girl who hardly believed, how was that going to work?

it was just the principle, she thought. it was just how things were going to be. but at the same time, she wished you would at least try. try to let her in— she wouldn’t hurt you, and she was certain that you knew that. you just weren’t brave enough to give it a try. 

and then, she was angry. 

angry at how you stormed off, after you were the one to kiss her. she was angry at how you pretended like everything between you was just friendship, but billie saw the way you looked at her when you thought she didn’t notice. yeah, she saw that. 

she saw everything. and it made her even more upset, because how could you just walk away, after everything that had happened?

billie chewed on the inside of her cheek, her gaze flicking to the phone again. her stomach twisted at the thought of pressing that button, of hearing your voice again, of maybe making things worse. but she had to try. she couldn’t let it end like this, not after everything. it was too easy to give up, and she wouldn’t have it. she needed to make things right.

just call her, she told herself, but her fingers wouldn’t move. her head was loud, so loud, her thoughts a jumbled mess of regret and anger and confusion. she needed answers, needed to understand why things had unraveled so fast, why you had kissed her and then pushed her away so violently, all in the same breath.

and, if she was being honest with herself, she needed to know if there was still something left between you two. if the thread that had always connected you hadn’t completely snapped, if there was something worth saving. 

billie took a deep, shaky breath and reached for her phone. her eyes hovered over your profile picture, your pretty smile illuminating her screen. she almost broke at that, and she shook her shoulders to try and shake it, her thumb hovering over the call button for a second that felt like an eternity. then, with a quiet exhale, she pressed it.

she held the phone to her ear, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure it would drown out the ringing. once, twice, three times— it felt endless. and just as she was about to lose her nerve and hang up, the call connected.

“…hello?”

your voice was soft, hesitant, and billie’s breath caught in her throat. she clenched her jaw, trying to steady herself, but the cracking in her hushed breathing gave her away. she could feel the tension on the other side of the line, and she almost spoke to break it, but then she heard a voice. 

“no, dude— hang up!”

“shit.” was all she heard you say before the line went dead. 

billie almost lost her mind at that, and she threw her phone harshly onto her bed, cursing underneath her breath. it didn’t take a genius to know who was talking in the background, obviously it was emma. 

so your friends hated her, too? what else was new? 

she sat down on the edge of her bed, her hands dragging through her hair, fingers curling at the roots. the sting in her scalp didn’t compare to the tightness in her chest, like her ribs were caving in on her lungs. her jaw ticked, her gaze locked on the phone lying motionless on the bed. it just sat there, mocking her, your contact still opened. 

“unbelievable,” she muttered, the word heavy with frustration. her mind wouldn’t stop replaying it— emma’s sharp voice, that venom-laced “hang up.”

of course, it was emma. always hovering, always protective, like some unspoken barrier between you and everyone else. billie got it— she really did. emma was just looking out for you. but that didn’t make it any less maddening. it didn’t make the rejection hurt any less.  

her knee started bouncing as she leaned forward, her elbows on her thighs, her head in her hands. every second of that call was burned into her mind, every pause, every breath, every muffled sound from your end.  

why? why couldn’t you just talk to her? why did you have to listen to emma, let her speak for you like you didn’t have your own mind?  

but then, in the quiet of her room, another thought crept in, unwelcome and sharp. maybe you don’t want to talk to her. maybe you really mean it when you say you don’t want her.

the thought twisted in her gut, and she stood up abruptly, pacing the room again like it would help, but it really didn’t. nothing did. the same questions looped in her head, over and over, no answers in sight.  

she wanted to be mad at you, to hold onto the anger, but it didn’t stick. because she knew. she knew how you looked at her when you thought she wasn’t paying attention, she knew the way your voice got quieter, softer, when it was just the two of you. she knew the way your lips lingered just a second too long when you kissed her.  

and maybe that’s why it hurt so much. because she couldn’t be making all of that up. could she? could she really be the only one who was feeling like this? was everything unrequited, or were you just afraid? 

billie eventually stopped pacing, only because her legs were aching from doing so. her hands found themselves on her hips, her eyes fixed on her phone like it might come alive and give her the answers she was too afraid to ask for. but all it did was sit there, silent, just like you.  

“why’d you kiss me if you didn’t want me?” she mumbled, her words thick, slurred. her voice cracked again, and she let out a shaky breath, “why’d you—” she started, but she couldn’t finish. her throat tightened, and she felt the tears spill over, hot against her flushed cheeks.

billie found herself sinking onto the floor, curled up in her own frame, trying to keep her emotions at bay and her swirling mind at rest. but she was too tired of thinking, too tired to try and make things seem rational. she was over it, over everything.

she thinks back to the night that she first met you, though everything’s kind of choppy. she thinks about when she told you that she didn’t really believe in getting drunk to solve your problems, or to pretend that things were better then they seem. but now, it seems like those morals aren’t as strong as they were. 

she fumbled for the bottle of tequila she’d left on the floor, her fingers slipping a few times before she managed to grab it. the glass was almost empty, but she tipped it back anyway, the last dregs burning slightly as they slid down her throat.

“god, i’m such a fucking mess,” she said to no one, her giggles bitter and hollow. she wiped at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie, but it didn’t help much, because tears still streamed down her cheeks.

you were all she could think about. you, with your stupid soft voice and your stupid pretty face and your stupid everything. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fair that you got to live rent-free in her head while she was falling apart over you.

her phone buzzed again, and her head snapped toward it, her heart lurching in her chest. she scrambled to grab it, almost dropping it in her drunken haste. but when she saw the screen, her stomach sank. it wasn’t you. of course it wasn’t.

“why won’t you just talk to me?” she asked aloud, though you weren’t there to hear it. her voice cracking again, “why won’t you just tell me how you feel?”

sobs shoot through her body, and she’s sure this is the hardest she’s ever cried before. but she couldn’t help it. with the help of the alcohol that was coursing through her veins, plus the confusion and the fight, it was all she could do. 

she cries until her eyes are too tired to form more tears. she cries until her eyes are drained and her throat is scratchy, and she finally sits up, her back slumped against the wall.

her chest heaved with each deep breath that she took, her hands trembling as she gripped the phone like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. the screen dimmed, and she stared at your name, willing it to light up with a call, a message— anything. but it didn’t. it stayed still, cold and indifferent, mocking her desperation.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” she muttered, her words slurred. she wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself or to you anymore, to be honest.

“why do you— why do you get to walk away like that? like you didn’t…like you didn’t kiss me first. so fuckin’ rude.”

her grip on the phone tightened, her jaw clenching as her tears dried, replaced by something hotter, angrier. she pushed herself off the floor, stumbling slightly as she paced the room again. her head was spinning, from the alcohol and the heartbreak, but her anger was sharp and steady, a beacon in her haze.

“you kissed me,” she said aloud, her voice louder now, more forceful, “you kissed me, and then you acted like— like it didn’t mean anything. like i didn’t mean anything.”

her fists curled at her sides, and she kicked the edge of her desk in frustration, wincing as the sharp pain shot through her foot. but it didn’t stop her, it didn’t even slow her down. she kept pacing, “you’re so fucking unfair,” she hissed, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. “you—ugh!”

she turned to her bed, grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it across the room with all the strength she could muster. it hit the wall with a dull thud, but it didn’t satisfy her, didn’t even come close. 

“why are you like this?” she yelled, though careful not to wake any of her neighbors up. her voice cracks again, “why do you get to mess with my head, make me feel like…like i’m not enough?”

her knees wobbled, and she sank onto the sheets of her bed, her hands burying in her hair. the anger drained as quickly as it had come, leaving her exhausted, empty. her thoughts spiraled, looping back to you, always to you. the fight, the kiss, the way your voice had trembled when you said her name.

and then— quickly, her mind wandered, unbidden, to the bar. to the way your lips had curled when you threw that sharp, biting remark at her. to the way your eyes burned with frustration, your voice rising in a way she’d never heard before. and— god, the way you had sworn at her, the first time you’d ever done that. it shouldn’t have made her feel the way it did, but nevertheless, it did. she hated how hot it was, how the word rolled off your tongue like a challenge, like a dare.

“billie, would you just shut the fuck up?”

yeah, she was whipped.

billie groaned, her hands dragging down her face as she pulled her navy blue covers over her frame. the ceiling spun above her, and she fluttered her eyes closed, but that didn’t really help. all she could see was you. your lips, your eyes, the way your hand had brushed hers whenever she was patching you up in her car. it had been such an innocent touch, but it had set her skin on fire, left her wanting more.

she cursed under her breath, her mind betraying her as it conjured up images of you. not the angry, distant version of you from the fight, but the softer, quieter version. the one who laughed at her dumb jokes, her teasing nicknames, it was all you. you who leaned closer than necessary when you spoke, who looked at her like she was the only person in the room, which always made her feel better, way warmer, even if your intentions were innocent. she thought about the version of you who kissed her like you meant it, like you wanted her as much as she wanted you.

her breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as her thoughts grew more vivid, more dangerous. she could still feel the ghost of your lips on hers, the way your fingers had curled into her jacket like you didn’t want to let go. she wanted to believe that version of you was real, that it wasn’t just a figment of her drunk, desperate imagination.

“shit,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she threw an arm over her face, trying to block out the images, the feelings, but it was no use. they kept crawling back into her conscience, no matter how hard she tried to kick them out. you were everywhere, in every thought, every breath, every beat of her pounding heart.

she hated how much she wanted you. hated how, even now, after everything, she couldn’t stop craving your touch, your voice, your laugh. hated how her body betrayed her, how the memory of you swearing at her sent a shiver down her spine, made her stomach twist in that familiar, dangerous way. it made her whole body set ablaze, tingles and rushes of adrenaline tangled within her nerves.

billie’s arm slid off her face slow and choppy as she let out a long, frustrated sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling that made her eyes spin. her thoughts were a mess, tangling and then untangling, looping back to the way your voice sounded— sharp, angry, and utterly captivating. she hated herself for it, for how much she liked the way you challenged her, even when it hurt her. 

she shouldn’t like it this much.

you were always so calm, so composed, so measured in everything you did. but at the bar, you were raw and unfiltered. the way your lips had pressed into a thin line, the way your eyes blazed with frustration— it wasn’t something she’d ever seen from you before, and gosh, it did something to her. it was like you had cracked open, showing her a side of you that no one else got to see.

“get it together,” billie muttered to herself, running a hand through her hair. but it was useless. her mind was already spiraling, drawn back to the memory of you leaning over the table, your voice low and heated as you argued with her. there was a fire in your eyes, a passion she hadn’t expected, and it had set something alight in her, too.

and that kiss. man, that kiss. she could still feel it, the way your lips had pressed against hers, hesitant at first but quickly growing bolder. it wasn’t soft or sweet— it was urgent, messy, like you were trying to pour everything you felt into it. like you were saying all the things you couldn’t put into words.

billie groaned, turning on her side as heat crept up her neck. she was drunk, sure, but even she couldn’t blame the alcohol for the way her thoughts lingered on you. on the way your hands had trembled slightly when you kissed her, the way your breath had hitched when she pulled you closer.

she couldn’t blame the alcohol, because this wasn’t the first time she had these thoughts. 

her chest ached with memory, a mixture of longing and regret swirling inside her. she wanted to be angry, to stay mad at you for storming off, for listening to emma, for acting like she didn’t matter to you. but she couldn’t. because deep down, she knew that wasn’t the whole truth. she knew there was more to it, more to you.

maybe that’s what scared her the most. not that you didn’t care about her, but that you did— and that you were too afraid to let yourself feel it.

“you’re such an idiot,” she whispered out, though she wasn’t sure if she was talking about you or herself. maybe both.

her cheeks flushed, a baby pink hue finding its way onto her cheeks, playing on her features like some sick game. she was way past embarrassed, but she was alone, and it didn’t seem as bad as it really was. 

without thinking, billie sank deeper within the cushioning of her bed, her fingers grazing over the hem of her gingham shorts, her breath hitching. she stopped for a second, trying to think hard about what she was doing, but the alcohol forbade her from staying on track.

eventually, her mind couldn’t help but wander, identical to the way her fingers ventured down her thighs, grazing them with her fingertips in a slow, vertical fashion, until she made it back to the scrunched waistband. and with swift movements, she slid her shorts off of her legs, pushing them through the covers until they found themselves on the floor.

billie took her sweet time, at first, just toying with the outer corners of her lacy black panties, pulling at the semi-circle flowers on the ends. she closed her eyes, letting herself drown in all the events of the night, the heated flirting, the way you had kissed her so passionately in the passenger seat.

she shouldn’t be thinking about you like this, not after everything. not after the way you walked out, leaving her standing in the middle of that bar, a mess of confusion and longing. but deep down, she couldn’t let go. she liked the fuel, like a moth to a flame, she was drawn to you. she couldn’t help herself. 

she couldn’t help the way her hands moved to slide her underwear down to her ankles, kicking the article of clothing off and down to the floor, along with her discarded shorts. a sudden rush of cool air made her let out a small gasp, the breath low and sultry as she pulled the covers closer.

she wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but billie was always easier to turn on when she was drunk. and with recent events, it wasn’t helping the heat that was burning in her lower abdomen. 

she traced a finger over her sensitive core, and then adding another, before pushing her slit open slowly, webs of wetness latching onto her fingertips as she let out a cool, choppy moan. 

this was awful, so very wrong— to touch herself while thinking about you, especially now. but you didn’t have to know, no one did, and that’s the logic she used to satisfy her greed, her hunger for you, her constant need to see you, touch you. 

billie spread her legs as she slipped her fingers inside of her warm cunt, the digits stretching out her walls sweetly as her thumb latched onto her clit, rubbing tight and firm circles against it. every thought of your pretty face, of your tooth-aching sweet smile, your precious eyes— that was what fueled her to keep touching herself, to feel those ground-breaking tingles against her exposed skin. 

she bit her lip, her hips bucking underneath her satin sheets as her fingers thrusted quicker into her pussy, though her movements were choppy and uneven— it still felt good. she kept thinking about you, unashamed now, your face etched into her memory as she fought to keep her moans at bay. 

she thanked the heavens that she didn’t have a roommate.

beads of sweat formed onto billie’s back as her head sinks into her pillow, little whimpers passing through her reddened, plump lips, her movements quickening as she felt a tight knot from in her stomach. images of you flashed against her mind, like gasoline to a fire, stoking up the adrenaline that was entangled in her veins. her fingertips curl and graze against her sweet spot, angelic moans falling thin and weak in the air as she moaned out, little syllables of your name rolling off of your tongue. 

it was so bad, but it felt so good. she was needy, eager, and that was obvious in the way that her hips lifted off of her covers, her hands sliding in and out of her wet pussy, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt her orgasm crash over her like a warm wave. she panted heavily, her movements slowing down, along with her breaths.

billie placed her back against the sheets and let out a long, unsteady breath, her eyes finding themselves at the thought of what she just did. but she’s too drunk and too exhausted to care, and she figures that she’ll deal with the repercussions tomorrow. so she flips onto her side, pulls the covers over her, and falls asleep.

✧ 11:05 am, saturday ✧

the dorm was alive with energy, the kind that only comes on a lazy saturday morning when no one’s in a rush to be anywhere. sunlight streamed in through the half-open blinds, casting soft patterns on the carpeted floors as the group sprawled out in various spots around emma’s and your small room. naomi was perched cross-legged on your desk chair, spinning lazily while scrolling through her phone, one earbud in. jules was on the floor, back against the bedframe, fiddling with the frayed edges of her ripped jeans while flipping through some fashion magazine. oliver had claimed the beanbag in the corner, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back, relaxed. and emma— well, emma was laying half asleep underneath your covers, waking every once in a while when someone would say something funny, and then she’d lay back down.

you sat on your bed, legs tucked underneath you, careful not to disturb emma. your hands clasped around a warm mug of tea, a small comfort, the heat grounding you as your thoughts buzzed louder than the conversation around you. everyone was talking about their plans for the day— emma wanted to hit the library for an upcoming paper, oliver was trying to convince naomi to come with him to a record store downtown, and jules was debating between joining them or staying behind to binge a new show. after individual plans, though, jules insisted that you all hang out and go roller skating, something that the five of you liked to do pretty often. 

“you’re quiet this morning,” naomi said, her voice cutting through the noise as she turned her gaze toward you.

your head snapped up, startled, and you forced a small smile, “i didn’t sleep well at all. just exhausted.”

it wasn’t a lie, you truly hadn’t slept well at all. after the bar fight with billie just shy of three days ago, you weren’t really feeling all that great. you hadn’t talked to her since, and it was both a relief and extremely nauseating. 

you missed her, deep down. but you knew it was an absolutely horrible idea to reach out, and start this sickening process all over again. you were making small but victorious progress, and you really didn’t want to take any chances at ruining that. 

after the fight, you woke up with a headache that made you feel like your forehead was going to split wide open. you threw up twice, your throat burning as you had finally wiped your lips, standing above the toilet and flushing it. emma had held your hair back for you, giving you tips on how to never throw up when hungover, at least for a lightweight like you. but if you were being honest, it didn’t really interest you to get drunk ever again. 

you had prayed and did Bible study for what felt like an eternity. you didn’t hear God speak, but you figured it was because you had strayed off your path, so the fault settled on you. but you wrote in your notebook diligently, said your prayers thoughtfully, and skimmed the pages of your devotionals carefully. in due time, no matter what was going on, you were sure He would answer.

you even called loretta, as you had missed one of your calls when you fell asleep. she was just calling to check in, and she could tell even through the phone that you were doing at least a little better. 

you had to admit, you were proud of yourself for getting back on your feet. or, so it seemed.

it appeared to everyone else like you had somehow become completely fine. and you had, for a solid…five minutes. but, of course, all the doubts and ‘what-ifs’ began to creep back in. 

you weren’t sleeping well at all, which was the first issue. you’d stay up glued to your studies or scrolling on pinterest until your eyes were burning and your skin was sweating from the constant tossing and turning. and when you finally would fall asleep, you’d wake up with headaches or your limbs tense and unstretched. 

you didn’t have the slightest bit of energy to do anything, either. you were doing just enough to keep A’s in all your classes, neglecting most of the extra work that your teachers assigned, only taking the extra mile when absolutely needed. 

but you were masking it well. you took small victories when you could, although, you felt a little empty. you were tighter with your friends, hanging out almost everyday, mainly as a healthy distraction. but sometimes, all you really wanted, was billie. 

you fought tooth and nail not to pick up your phone and call her. to spill every detail of your life out to her, to update her on how things were, even if they weren’t good. it was killing you that you couldn’t speak to her, even if it was a decision that you had made. 

you didn’t like that you had the upper hand in this situation. you wished that it had fell back on billie, because although it was selfish, you really wished that you could have one less thing on your plate. deep down, you honestly wished that you had never met her at all. 

you were doing fine until she came into the picture. though you knew she didn’t mean you any harm, you were picking up the pieces that she caused to crumble, making you spiral and act irrational, something you would’ve never thought about doing in the past.

but it wasn’t all her fault, you couldn’t put the blame on her. you were there too, and you had to take ownership of that, even though it was hard. 

jules and naomi had raised an eyebrow at your statement like they didn’t quite believe you, but they didn’t press. instead, the both turned her attention back to oliver, who was now trying to win the both of them over with promises of coffee and pastries in order to go record shopping with him.

you tried to focus on their loud, happy chatter, to let it pull you out of your own head, but it was no use. your thoughts were stuck, looping in a way that made your chest feel tight.

you thought about two nights ago, about coming out.

the words lingered in your mind, heavy and sharp. it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it recently, you had, a lot— but thinking about it and actually doing it were two very different things. and with naomi and jules sitting just a few feet away, laughing and joking like nothing was wrong, the weight of it all felt unbearable.

emma and oliver already knew, and were doing exceptionally well at hiding it. they understood that it was something you would share when you were ready, and they vowed to keep quiet about it. naomi and jules were wondering about the awkward tension that was taking place before, as you weren’t texting or calling pretty much at all. but emma just shrugged it off, covering by saying you were going through a rough time and just needed a second to breathe. which, wasn’t all that false. 

you glanced at them, at the easy way they moved through the world, at how free they seemed. naomi, with her loud, unapologetic laugh and her wild hair that framed her face like a halo. jules, with her sharp wit and soft smile that could disarm anyone in an instant. they were your bestest of friends, and yet, the idea of telling them felt impossible.

it wasn’t that you didn’t trust them— you did, more than anyone. but there was this nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering all the worst-case scenarios, how’d they react. what if they didn’t understand? what if they looked at you differently? what if it changed everything?

and then there was your faith, tangled up in all of it like a knot you couldn’t undo. you’d grown up in the church, surrounded by sermons and scripture and songs that painted the world beautifully, but it was in black and white. you’d been taught that love was normal to desire, it was healthy, but only when it looked a certain way, fit into a certain mold. anything outside of that was wrong, sinful, unworthy.

you swallowed hard, the taste of the tea suddenly bitter on your tongue. it wasn’t that you didn’t believe anymore— you still did, in your own way. but reconciling your faith with who you were, with how you felt, was a battle you fought every single day, and it was hard to keep on track, if you were being completely honest. 

“you okay?” naomi’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to find her watching you, her head tilted slightly in concern.

“yeah,” you said quickly, forcing another smile. “just zoning out. i need to get out of this dorm room.”

she seemed to accept that, nodding as she turned back to oliver, who was now listing off his favorite bands like his life depended on it.

you let out a quiet breath, grateful for the reprieve, but still feeling the weight in your chest.

emma caught your eye from across the room, her expression soft but questioning. she always seemed to know when something was off, even if she didn’t say it out loud, which was needed sometimes. it was one of the reasons you’d told her first, days prior, in the quiet of this very room. she’d taken it well, better than you’d expected, and you were thankful for that. but even her quiet support wasn’t enough to silence the doubts that clawed at you.

the conversation in the room shifted again, this time to lunch plans, and you nodded along when someone suggested the diner a few blocks away, your group’s spot. looks were shared between all of you, and it seemed like everyone had remembered that night that billie came in. but when you smile, and assured them that it was okay to go, they carried on. but your mind was still elsewhere, caught between the fear of staying silent and the terror of speaking up.

you wondered what it would feel like to finally let it out, to let them see all of you. would it be freeing? or would it be just as heavy, just as hard, but in a different way?

“alright, you sure you’re good?” emma asked quietly, leaning closer so only you could hear.

you nodded, your grip tightening around your mug as you took your last swig, the warmth making you feel slightly more at ease, “i’m okay, really,” you said softly, “i’m honestly just… thinking. you know how it is.”

she didn’t push, just gave you a small nod of understanding before straightening up again, making sure to include you in the conversation between the five of you.

“alright, i really think we should just go skating,” jules advocates from her spot on the floor, closing her magazine, “we all love skating. why don’t we do that?”

“because naomi here is like bambi on wheels.” oliver snorts, pointing to the purple-haired girl, and she gifts him a well-deserved, playful slap to the arm. 

emma nods, “i don’t think skating’s a bad idea, i’m down. everyone’s already ready, so, when are we heading out?”

“just need to get dressed, and then we can go.” you say, pulling the covers off of your frame, standing up and heading over to your dresser. you fumble around for something to wear as the four behind you discuss what’s for lunch, and things of that sort. you eventually settle on a jean skirt and a white top to match, with a baby pink cardigan thrown over it. you turn around and show the group your outfit, holding the pieces up to your body to provide something to the imagination, “this cute?”

“adorable!” naomi grins, and the others agree, too, and oliver gives you a sweet thumbs up, which makes you smile. you grab your phone off of your desk and slip into emma’s room, since you figure that changing in there would take less time than walking to the bathrooms.

you close the door behind you, and you look around for a second. emma’s room is a complete contrast to yours— cheetah printed blankets, posters of lana del rey and other singers hung up on her walls, right next to her deep red electric guitar and shelves of different sneakers and expensive handbags. she had a bookcase dedicated to anything but books, it was mostly filled with perfumes, fashion mags, and candles. her desk was a mess, makeup everywhere, and trash anywhere but in the bin, but you admired her style. it was an oddly warm comfort to you, the difference of style, and that’s what you always loved about emma— she was so unlike you, and yet, you two were the perfect set of friends. 

you found her mirror and stood in front of it, slipping off your matching pj set and quickly sliding today’s outfit on. you fixed your hair and toyed with the ends, curling them around your fingers to give their already kinky state a little bit more bounce. 

when you were satisfied with your appearance, you twisted the doorknob and stepped out, doing a little twist for the group as they all cheered. you felt more welcomed than ever— appreciated, accepted, and you wanted it to stay like that, like how it always was. 

but with this huge secret (although it wasn’t so huge, because emma and oliver knew), you didn’t know how long this would last. you were going to latch onto it as long as you could, hoping and praying that when the time came, you would still be loved as you were, before everything went down. 

you knew your best friends, they wouldn’t really care all that much, but it would just be so unexpected coming from you. were you ready for that, truly? were you ready to live out the things you had always felt? you weren’t too sure now. 

you walked back over to your desk, slipping your nearly dead phone into your bag as you leaned against the edge of it, trying to find some sort of calm. the room was filled with chatter, naomi arguing with jules over whether or not they should try the new sandwich spot downtown or stick to the diner, and oliver chiming in with some random fact about artisan bread that seemed nice to try. emma was scrolling through her phone, half-listening but still throwing in a laugh here and there. it was so normal, nothing out of the blue, but you felt this strange ache in your chest.

you thought about how emma and oliver already knew that you were a lesbian, how it had felt like peeling off a bandage and exposing something raw when you’d told them just a few days ago. emma had hugged you tight, whispering that she was proud of you, and oliver had just nodded, his usual soft, understanding smile on his face, cracking jokes back and forth with you. but then, that night after billie called you, it all hit you like a wave.

you didn’t mean to hang up so abruptly. you wanted to hear her out at first, but you quickly realized that it wasn’t a good idea. emma had urged you to hang up, and you did with no hesitation, suddenly realizing that answering in itself was a mistake. 

it wracked your brain for the rest of the night, and it bothered you badly that you couldn’t talk to billie. you felt like at least one more conversation could help, but it was too late for that, and you had to put yourself first. so you put your phone up for the night, falling asleep not to long after emma did. 

and then, you cried. 

but not about billie. about your friends.

it wasn’t even that you were scared of rejection. you knew naomi and jules loved you like family, and you couldn’t imagine them turning their backs on you. but it was the shift you feared— this tiny, delicate balance being thrown off, even if just for a moment. you hated being the reason things felt different. you hated the idea of anyone looking at you like you were someone else now.

your fingers toyed with the strap of your bag as the thought settled in your mind like an unwelcome guest. it wasn’t fair, really, how much weight this little not-so-big secret carried. it was supposed to feel freeing, like shedding an old skin that didn’t fit anymore, blossoming into something new, and much more beautiful. but instead, it felt like walking on a tightrope, praying you wouldn’t fall and drag everyone else down with you. you couldn’t let that happen again.

emma’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the moment. “you okay?” she mouthed, her brows knitting together slightly. it’s all she seemed to ask now, but you appreciated the sentiment. you nodded quickly, offering a small smile to reassure her, but the way she tilted her head told you she wasn’t convinced. she didn’t push you, though, she just gave you that look that said i’m here when you’re ready.

and you wanted to be ready, for all of it. for the conversations, the questions, the vulnerability, all the jokes that would be cracked. you wanted to be able to say everything with confidence, to look at yourself in the mirror and feel like you weren’t hiding anymore, like you were proud to be just the way you were. but there was still that small, stubborn part of you that whispered, what if you’re wrong? what if this isn’t who you’re supposed to be? is a phase, something that will pass when the time comes?

you pushed the thought aside, swallowing hard as you forced yourself to focus on the present. the laughter in the room, the warmth of your friends, the way everyone was bickering about oliver’s odd knowledge about sandwiches and bread. you let yourself laugh, even if it felt a little hollow, because you were sure, slowly yet surely, it would make you feel better.

you’d hold onto this moment, this fragile, fleeting sense of normalcy. you’d hold onto it for as long as you could, and when the time came to tell them, you’d trust that naomi and jules would still love you, still see you the same way that they always did. at least, that’s what you prayed for. and lately, that was all you could do.

“okay, so are we ready to go, or are we gonna argue about sandwiches all day?” emma said, rolling her eyes with a grin as she grabbed her keys off of your nightstand, standing up to dust off her wide legged jeans. naomi and jules were still in a heated, albeit playful teasing sesh against oliver, and he was just sitting on the arm of the couch, shaking his head at them.

“for the record,” he interjected, raising his hand like he was in a courtroom, “the sandwich shop idea isn’t bad. but if we’re talking about lunch and activities, why not just roller skating now? we can grab lunch and still get dinner at the diner. there’s that rink a few blocks from here, and they’ve got a food court with, you know, options. not just flavorless-ass bread that’s probably already stale.” he gave a pointed look at naomi and jules.

“skating?” you repeated, “okay, yeah, i’m down.”

“me too,” emma said, already grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, “besides, i can’t wait to see naomi bust her ass out there. wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen that, hm?”

naomi gasped, clutching her chest dramatically, “okay, excuse me! i have impeccable balance, so thank you very much.”

“uh-huh,” jules snorted, already pulling her jacket on, zipping it up as she let out a mocking laugh, “we’ll see how long that lasts when you’re out there, bambi.”

the group laughed as you all filed out of the dorm, everyone grabbing their belongings as you closed and locked the door behind you, and then the walk started. emma, jules and naomi walked up front, while you and oliver retreated to the back, following close behind them. you heard easy banter filling the air as you all walked outside, stepping out into the cool air, though the warm sun gave hints of a warmer afternoon. 

“how are you feeling?” oliver asked you as you walked, his eyes glancing down to meet with yours. they were glossed over with concern, but it was out of love, so you spoke honestly. 

“good, overall, i think. i really have no complaints— i just…you know. i get into my own head sometimes.”

oliver nods at you, “i get that. just remember, i’m always here if you need something, ‘girlfriend.’” he nudges your arm on that last part, and you shake your head at him, though you can’t help but laugh.

the walk to the skating rink was a short one, but it was peaceful. occasionally, everyone would turn around and talk, and jules would sometimes snap a picture of a cool tree or pretty flowers on her digital camera. you stayed toward the back of the group, letting their energy pull you along while you kept to your thoughts.

when you all arrived at the rink, the hum of retro music and the buzz of people skating hit you instantly, accompanied with the smell of pretzels and store-bought pizzas. the place had an old-school charm— bright neon signs, colorful lights that reflected off the fresh, polished floor, and rows of skates lined up behind the counter as employees waved the five of you in. 

“this is gonna be so fun!” naomi cheered, her face lighting up as she clapped her hands together. she then looked at emma, who seemed all but convinced that naomi would stay on her feet, “and just for the record, i’m gonna be the best one out there. no questions asked.”

“uh huh, yeah— you’re really committed to this narrative, huh naomi?” emma teased as she slipped a ticket across the counter in exchange for her inlines, “we’ll see how you do, but don’t cry when i’m doing laps around you while your ass is super-glued to the floor.”

everyone laughed at that as they grabbed their skates, and you were last to do so. you grabbed a pair of quads and took a seat on the bench, slipping them onto your feet carefully. emma was already up and skating around, practicing whatever tricks that she had hidden up her sleeve. 

whenever she had to clear her head, she’d go to the rink— something she had been doing since she was younger. that’s where you learned how to skate, from emma’s constant visits to your rink back home, and it felt like that you had a hobby you could both share.

when everyone was ready, the group shuffled out onto the rink, the polished floor gleaming beneath the flashing lights. it was awkward at first, your legs feeling wobbly and unsure as you gripped the railing for support. it wasn’t that you didn’t know how to skate, it had just been so long, but you picked up your pace when emma and jules grabbed both your sides and forced you out onto the floor. 

“you got this!” jules had said, and then you three were off, hands laced within one another’s, skating rhythmically to some old song that was playing on the speakers above.

“look at you!” emma called out, gliding up beside you with ease after you and jules had broke off, skating at your own pace. you were twisting and turning like you usually did, the art becoming more comfortable to you, and you were enjoying yourself.  “you’re not even holding on to the wall anymore! i’m so proud.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, laughing as you pushed off your right food little harder, gaining more speed with each loop around the rink, “just don’t jinx it.”

everyone was pretty much skating alone now. you were doing your usual thing, crossing your feet and gliding side to side to the music, which was always fun for you. emma was on a roll— skating backwards between crowds of people, hopping on her feet, taking her party tricks to the extra mile. jules and oliver were racing, as they always did— and of course, jules won, also as always. 

meanwhile, naomi was loudly declaring herself the queen of skating, much to jules’s amusement as she stumbled and nearly fell. you tried to contain your laughter, but you had to admit, it was pretty funny the way she swore up and down she was the best out of the group, though she hadn’t even found herself making a full lap around the floor yet.

you were skating peacefully as a new song came on, something by stevie wonder, which you liked. you started to slow down and accommodate to the blue-sy rhythm, but then, as you rounded the far side of the rink, your eyes caught a figure near the edge. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart dropping to your stomach. it was billie.

God, could you ever get away from this girl?

she was sitting on a bench, tying her skates with that familiar furrow of concentration on her face. her hair was pulled into one of the messiest buns you had ever seen, even for her, though a few pieces effortlessly accented her face around the sides. she was wearing a loose sweatshirt and a pair of shorts so long that you couldn’t tell if they were supposed to be like that. but, to your surprise, she was alone.

panic flared in your chest, and if you weren’t as comfortable with skating, you were sure that you would’ve fallen. your mind was racing as you quickly turned your head away, trying to keep her from seeing you. the last thing you needed was another interaction, another moment where she could belittle you, looking at you with that stupid grin that never seemed to leave her face, like she was always teasing you for something. 

you skated past her as casually as you could manage, your heart pounding in your chest. you felt like you were going to burst, like your breath was stolen right out of your lungs. you heaved as you looked in front of you, where your friends were still laughing and teasing each other, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in your stomach.

you felt sick.

you risked a glance over your shoulder, relief washing over you when you saw that billie hadn’t noticed you. she was still focused on her skates, completely oblivious to your presence. which, you definitely wanted to keep it that way.

you tried to focus on your friends, on the way naomi shrieked as she nearly toppled over again, after falling nearly ten times already, but she was saved only by oliver’s quick reflexes as he grabbed her arm. 

“you owe me for that,” he teased, smirking at her as she tried to compose herself, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“whatever, i was totally fine. i could’ve gotten back up.” naomi huffed, wiping a few particles of dust off of her shirt as she stood up.

“sure you were,” jules said, rolling up beside her, her grin wide and mischievous, “next time, maybe we should get you those little kid trainers, you know, the ones with wheels on all four corners? seems pretty fitting if you ask me.”

“you’re all so mean to me!” naomi cried dramatically, though the laughter bubbling in her voice gave her away. she didn’t mind that she couldn’t skate all that well, truthfully, but it was always fun to mess around for a while. 

the lightness of their banter helped ease some of the tension in your chest, and for a moment, you let yourself get swept up in it. emma had started a race with jules now, the two of them zipping around the rink in an uncoordinated blur, while oliver stayed back with naomi, coaching her like a patient older brother, though she still wasn’t quite getting it.

you skated in slow, deliberate circles, careful not to look in billie’s direction again. you didn’t want to tempt fate, not again.

but it wasn’t just fear that made you keep your distance. it was the weight of everything you’d been trying to leave behind— the fight, the tears, the way her voice still lingered in your head, sharp and biting, but also soft in ways that made your chest ache.

you couldn’t reminisce on that though. you had to stay focused on what really mattered, and it wasn’t billie. it was you, your happiness, your walk with God, and everything else that surrounded that. you didn’t have time to pick more stupid fights with her, when she would not and could not ever understand where you were coming from.

“you’re doing great, by the way,” oliver called out, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. he had left naomi with emma, though her coaching wasn’t as gentle. your eyes immediately find oliver’s as he skates with you, and you cock your brow at him, still nervous.

“what…what do you mean?” you ask.

oliver rolls his eyes, “i saw her. the others didn’t, and don’t worry, i won’t snitch. but just ignore her, for your own sake. you deserve nothing but peace right now, so don’t let her disturb that.”

“right, yeah.” you nod, but it sounds weak, even to your own ears. you’re just moving, fighting for a distraction, focusing on finding a steady rhythm again. the music shifted to something slower, softer, and the lights dimmed slightly, casting the rink in a warm glow. couples started pairing off, holding hands as they skated together, little holographic, neon hearts sliding against the wooden floors.

“ugh, so cute it’s disgusting,” emma squeaked, skating up beside you and nodding toward one particularly affectionate pair to your right. they were adorable, two girls holding hands and skating identically together. however, it made your chest cave in when one girl was wearing bright, pretty soft hues, while the other was wearing deep blacks and purples, a huge contrast to her girlfriend.

it felt like you and billie, in a way, and you almost gag at that. it seemed like everything reminded you of her, and you didn’t know how much longer you could take it. 

“don’t be a hater,” jules chimed in, coming up on your other side, an easy distraction. you ease up as she teases emma, “maybe you’ll find someone to hold hands with one day, em. miracles happen, i’ll make a phone call to the angels for you, see what they can do.”

“very funny,” emma said, rolling her eyes. “i’m holding out for someone who can actually keep up with me, thank you very much.”

“wait, what happened with that guy i saw you with?” you questioned, hoping that the conversation would flow in a way that would make you forget about seeing billie.

“oh gosh, where do i even begin,” emma dragged on, and that’s when you knew that your plan was in motion. she babbled on about how he was a player and had no common sense, and something about how she didn’t like that he had bed covers with patrick mahomes’ face on it. which, you really didn’t know what that had to do with anything, but you just let her talk.

but then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her again. billie.

she was on the rink now, skating slowly, her movements a little awkward like she wasn’t used to it. she was smiling, though— a small, quiet smile that tugged at something deep in your chest.

a smile that you missed.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding loudly in your chest all over again. she still hadn’t noticed you, thank God, but just seeing her was enough to unsettle you completely, working your nerves right back up.

“you good?” emma asked you, nudging your shoulder lightly.

“yeah,” you said quickly, though your voice was too high-pitched to be convincing. you cleared your throat, forcing a smile out as you turned a corner, “just... distracted, i guess.”

emma tilted her head, studying you for a moment, but she didn’t ask anymore questions, “well, let me know if you need a distraction from your distraction.” she said with a wink before skating off to join the others.

you stayed where you were, finding refuge in a wall, letting the others drift ahead. your gaze flickered to billie again, despite yourself, and you wondered— just for a second— if she was thinking about you, too. if she had seen you.

but then she turned, skating toward the far side of the rink, and you quickly looked away, pulling your hair over the side of your face in hopes that she wouldn’t recognize you, if her eyes had somehow found their way to make out who you were, even though you were on the complete opposite side of the roller rink.

you skated to the edge of the opposite wall, trying to put as much distance between yourself and billie as possible. your heart was still pounding, your thoughts racing as you fought the urge to look back over your shoulder, to get one more glimpse, even though you knew you’d regret it.

so you didn’t. because the last thing you needed was for her to notice you.

but then, a sharp pang of anxiety hit you. what if she did see you? what if she thought you were alone, vulnerable, still hung up on everything that happened between you two? it felt irrational, but the idea of her pitying you— or worse, thinking she still had some sort of hold over you— made your stomach churn. you couldn’t let her have that type of victory over you. you were in control, not her.

your eyes scanned the spot that you were in, and then you spotted oliver across the rink, helping naomi wobble along the railing. relief washed over you— oliver was the perfect shield, the one person who could make you look completely unbothered and perfectly fine. after all, he was supposed to be your ‘boyfriend’ now, wasn’t he?

you pushed off the wall, skating toward him as steadily as you could.

 “ollie!” 

he turned around when he heard your voice, his face lighting up when he saw you, “hey, what’s up?”

you skated up beside him, lowering your voice so only he could hear, though your request wasn’t all that abnormal, “okay, this is going to sound weird, but… can you hold my hand?”

he blinked, tilting his head, “uh, sure? what’s going on? is it…?”

you hesitated, glancing over your shoulder to make sure billie was still on the far side of the rink. you looked back at him, “yeah,” you whispered quietly, “and i just— i don’t want her to think… you know, that i’m…”

“still hung up on her?” oliver finished your dead sentence for you, his expression softening with understanding.

you nodded, biting your lip, “i just need her to see that i’m fine. better than fine, even. like… totally over it.”

he smiled gently, reaching out to take your hand. “yup, fake dating duty. got it.”

you felt a small wave of relief as his hand slid into yours, warm and steady. oliver gave it a reassuring squeeze, and you squeezed back, grateful as ever for how quickly he reacted, how eager he was to help you with no complaints.

“you owe me for this, by the way.” he teased as he started skating beside you, his tone lighthearted, and you knew that it was only jokes.

you snorted, “yeah right. just put it on my tab.” 

naomi shot the two of you a curious look as you passed her idle spot next to the wall, “okay, wait, are we holding hands now? did i miss something?”

“we’re practicing for the couples skate,” oliver said smoothly, his tone so casual that even you almost believed him. it was a good lie, one that would hold over your little secret until it forced itself out. and now, now wasn’t really the time for it.

naomi narrowed her eyes, but jules came barreling toward her before she could press further, their laughter echoing across the rink.

you felt a little more at ease now, skating alongside oliver, your hand laced within his. your heart still raced every time you thought about billie, about everytime that you saw her around the rink. but having him there grounded you, reminded you that you weren’t alone.

you cast one more glance toward the far side of the rink, where billie was still skating. her focus was elsewhere, thank God, it was on anything but you.

you exhaled softly, squeezing oliver’s hand again. he looked down at you, raising an eyebrow, “feeling better?”

“yeah,” you said quietly through a smile, “thanks, ollie.”

before he could pay your statement back with a ‘you’re welcome’, you hear jules, naomi, and emma all agree that it’s time to head out and grab some food. they had apparently decided that eating at the diner for lunch was a better idea, saving time to possibly go downtown or go somewhere for dessert and take pictures. so, you and oliver followed accordingly, hopping off the floor and returning your skates to the counter.

as everyone slipped on their shoes and grabbed their things, jules went right back to her teasing of naomi, “so, did you fall?”

“i’m too hungry to argue with you.” she laughed, sliding her tote bag onto her shoulders as the group made their way outside, walking to the diner.

౨ৎ

the diner felt like a sanctuary at first, a bubble of warmth and laughter that protected you from the turmoil brewing just beneath your skin. the clatter of plates, the hum of the jukebox playing some old 50s song, and the low din of chatter around you all made it easy to pretend, just for a little while, that everything was okay, even if it was nothing but that.

you were wedged between emma and the wall in your usual spot, picking at the remains of your burger while naomi recounted some story about her boss at work, who she thought was all types of dreamy. oliver and jules were hanging on her every word, laughing at all the right moments, and emma was chiming in with her usual quick-witted commentary. it should have felt normal, comforting, just like how it was in your dorm this morning. but it didn’t.

you couldn’t stop replaying the moment at the rink. the way billie had looked— so familiar, yet so distant. and, to be honest, it kind of bothered you.

it hurt that you would have to see her around so much, way more often than you would like. it’s like all your hangout spots were hers too, and it was inevitable to get away from her. but you had to try, at least— try and heal from your wounds, try and forget everything that had happened and turn a new leaf. and you knew it would be hard, but you were going to work on it, because you owed it to yourself. you owed it to yourself to be happy.

you were about to take another bite of your burger when the bell above the door jingled, and your heart dropped. you didn’t even need to look to know who it was. the shift in the air was enough. you had felt it before, back at the bar, and earlier in the roller rink. you knew it was her.

but of course, you being you, you looked anyway.

and there she was. 

her presence was like a punch to the gut, a mix of anger, longing, and something else you couldn’t quite place. she looked almost the same as she had at the rink— disheveled, guarded— but her eyes were sharper now, the playful nature of skating long gone.

your stomach twisted and screamed as her gaze landed on your booth, just to your luck. her jaw tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes locked on you.

“oh no,” emma muttered under her breath, her fork pausing mid-air, “are you serious?”

“is that…?” jules started, but oliver kicked her under the table, shooting her a warning look, and her lips pursed quiet at that.

you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the fine lines of ketchup bottle on the table, but it was too late. billie was already walking over to you, her strut quick and strong, like she already had what she wanted to say and do in mind.

“can we talk?” she said once she reached your table, her voice low and tight, standing awkwardly next to your booth.

you placed your head in your hands as everyone went silent, their eyes darting between you and billie like they were watching a live fight scene. and honestly, you knew that’s where it was heading.

but there was nothing you could do. you couldn’t escape, she was here now, so you might as well engage, because there was no other way out of this.

“you want to talk here?” you asked, your voice sharp.

“no,” she clarified, crossing her arms over her chest, “outside.”

“you don’t have to go, love.” oliver said, quiet, but loud enough to where billie could hear. he knew that you needed this— a way out, a cover-up, even if she wasn’t buying it right this second. you felt his hand brush against yours under the table for added effect, though he was unsure if billie could see you two.

but you knew you couldn’t avoid this forever. so, with a heavy sigh, you slid out of the booth, avoiding everyone’s longing and confused looks as you started to walk, following billie out of the door.

the late afternoon air hit you like a slap to the face, much like the way billie had strutted in the diner, demanding a piece of your time like she was the one that owned it. she stopped a few feet away from the entrance, her back to you as she ran a hand through her hair.

“okay, what do you want, billie?” you asked, crossing your arms to mirror her, “i don’t have time for this, be quick and get straight to the point. i don’t even want to be talking to you right now.”

lie.

she turned to face you, her eyes dark and stormy, “honestly, i just want to know why. why you couldn’t just talk to me. why you couldn’t just tell me what was going on, instead of doing all…of this.”

“are you serious?” you snapped, your frustration bubbling quickly to the surface, “are you seriously going to ask me this question again like i haven’t already answered it? what else do you want me to say to you? i told you to leave me alone, and i’m not so sure why this can’t get through to you, so i’ll say it again. leave. me. alone!”

her jaw tightened, and she took a step closer to you. her eyes were glossed over with tears, but you didn’t care at all. you were sick of her acting like she was the victim, like you hadn’t asked her countless times you just leave you be. at this point, she was just harassing you. 

“i-i’m sorry…i know, but…i feel like you’re not telling me everything, y/n. i feel so deeply that there’s something you aren’t telling me, like i’m not getting the whole wide of this story…i just, i needed to know—“

“i don’t owe you explanations about my own life,” you shot back, “why can’t you just give up on me, like you did back at the bar? why can’t you just let me live my life without showing up at the most random times, without making me feel like i’m the one that’s crazy, huh?” 

“give up on you?” billie repeated, her voice cracking. she was full on tears now, “do you have any idea how hard it was to leave? how much it killed me to walk away?”

you flinched at the raw emotion in her voice, but you didn’t back down. she couldn’t phase you now, “if it was so hard, why did you do it?”

“because i didn’t know what else to do!” she shouted, her hands balling into fists at her sides, “you wouldn’t let me in, and i was fucking drowning. i couldn’t keep—”

“couldn’t keep what?” you interrupted, stepping closer now, your own anger flaring, “couldn’t keep dealing with me? with my problems? sorry i wasn’t perfect enough for you, billie, but you knew what you were getting yourself into, it was obvious.” 

“that’s not what i meant,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less intense, “and you know it. you know that’s not how i felt about you.” 

“then what did you mean?” you pressed, your heart pounding in your chest, “i mean, do tell billie, because i’ve been waiting for this. tell me what you really wanna say, because you’re doing nothing but wasting my time.” 

she opened her mouth to respond, but then her gaze flicked behind your back, back toward the diner. you followed her line of sight and saw your friends watching from the window, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity, leaning in so close in hopes that they could hear what was going on. 

billie’s expression shifted, her anger giving way to something softer, something almost vulnerable, like she really was going to tell you how she felt. but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a mask of indifference, confusion, of something unsure. 

“you know what? forget it,” she said, shaking her head at you, “this was a mistake. you were right.” 

and then she turned on her heel without a word, and started walking away, her boots echoing against the pavement as she started towards her car. 

“billie, wait,” you called after her, your voice trembling, but it was no use. 

she didn’t stop. she didn’t even look back, and for the first time, you really wish she did. 

you wanted to hear what she had to say, but you weren’t ready. you couldn’t handle all of that, but you thought you could at least try. but now, it was too late. 

it was always too late. 

you stood there, frozen, your fists clenched and your chest heaving as you watched her disappear into the driver’s seat of her car, cranking up the engine and speeding out of her parking spot. 

your friends were still watching from the window, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face them. instead, you turned around and leaned against the wall of the diner, your head falling back as you stared up at the sky.

you wanted to scream, to cry, to do something about this, but all you could do was stand there, the weight of her words and your own anger pressing down on you like a weighted blanket.

and then, you heard the door to the diner swing opened, a voice pushing out into the empty air, 

“i promise you, despite as much as you think you are, you and billie are far from done.” 

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[sarahsghosts]

the death and resurrection of jonathan price

john price x female, wife!reader

angst with an eventual happy ending

word count: 2,734

cw: language.

disclaimer: not proofread.

chapter 6

songs: when it rains - paramore, apt. - rose & bruno mars

it was less than twelve hours before you saw john again.

the rain had continued to pour, picking up enough that you could hear it beating relentlessly against your window panes.

as soon as you came home from work, you’d taken a hot shower, put on an old, large tshirt, a pair of joggers and curled up on the couch.

you’d pulled a throw blanket up over your lap and had a mug of tea (without honey) sitting on the end table next to you while you read your romance novel.

the romance genre was never something you indulged in before. you’d never been one to rain on anyone's parade, but it just wasn’t for you.

“i don’t need to read all that because i have the real thing,” you used to tell john. that always made him smile.

but after you thought he had died, you started indulging a little bit: a rom com here, romance novel there.

there was something in between the lines that reminded you of your and john’s relationship. the witty banter. the lingering touches. the love that never died.

until yours did.

but for 90 minutes or 300 pages, you could pretend that it hadn’t.

you were lost in your book, almost completely dead to the world, pulled out only when the knocking on your door grew more insistent.

you had no clue how long it’d been going on, so you dropped your book onto the couch and dove for the door.

“coming!” you called, as you undid the deadbolt. you pulled the door open and saw john standing on your doorstep.

he wore a dark gray tshirt and a worn pair of jeans. his lips were pursed and his carried a manila file folder in his hand.

you blinked at him. “hi.”

he tilted his head slightly. his eyes looking you up and down, but revealed nothing of what he was thinking. “can i come in?” his voice sounded rough, almost hesitant.

you were still frustrated with him for making a scene at your work earlier, but you couldn’t help the hope that bloomed in your chest at seeing him here on your doorstep.

“oh! yeah, of course,” you said, stepping back to make room for him to enter.

as he walked by you, you could see his gaze shifting around the room, taking in all the changes you’d made since he left.

you had removed all the wedding pictures that used to hang on the walls. the cards from christmases past were no longer stuck to the refrigerator.

the bedroom door was cracked open, and you were suddenly self conscious of the unobstrucked view he had of the messy, unmade bed.

he took a few more paces into the living area, eyes darting around.

he stilled as he saw the memorial shadowbox you’d left on the wall.

he service photo. the program from his funeral printed beside it. the folded flag.

he stared at it for a long moment before he turned to you and said, “need you to sign this.”

he held out the folder.

you tentatively took it from his hands and opened it up. your eyes scanned the documents and your head began to swim.

co-petitioners.

broken down irretrievably.

your eyes flitted to the bottom of the page and you saw two signature lines. your throat tightened.

john had already signed one.

you snapped the folder shut, a hollow feeling growing in your chest. “you want a divorce?”

you shook your head and tried to hand the folder back to him.

he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and leaned up against the wall. he sighed deeply as if he expected this. “come on, love. it’s for the best.”

his tone was condescending, but you heard the exhaustion layered underneath it.

“go find some nice bloke,” he said. “have yourself a proper family.”

you bit down on the inside of your cheek. god, you were tired. “i don’t want a proper family, john, i want you.”

he chuckled, bitterly. “you keep saying that, but the thing is, you don’t.” you opened your mouth to protest, but he continued. “i’m not the man you knew. he’s gone.”

“bullshit,” you interrupted. “i understand something like that changes someone, but that doesn’t mean—”

his eyes flared and he straightened up. “you have no fucking idea what i—”

“because you won’t talk to me!” you shouted, throwing up your hands. “for better or for worse, remember? whatever it is, john, we can work through it. together.”

he stares down at you, his gaze so intense you felt as though it may burn a hole right through you. finally, he shook his head and let out a small laugh. “funny, isn’t it?”

your brows furrowed. “what?”

he took a step towards you, leaving minimal distance between the two of you. a cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“you’ll still get you down on your knees for me, but i can’t get you to sign a bloody piece of paper.”

you slapped him. hard.

his eyes closed momentarily, but otherwise he gave no reaction to the blow.

your face burned hot from rage and humiliation. “get the fuck out of my house,” you hissed.

for a moment, he didn’t move, then he pushed past you and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

your hands were trembling as you gripped the folder tightly.

you moved back to the couch and dropped down onto it, staring at the divorce papers.

it occurred to you suddenly, that john baited you into the slap. and you had fallen for it.

he did it so i’d sign the fucking papers, you realized. you let out a scoff and shook your head. “sonuvabitch…”

you picked up your book and the folder, heading towards your bedroom. on your way by the kitchen, you chucked both items into the bin.

john stared down at the cup of coffee in his hand. it wasn’t right.

he poured it down the drain and started again.

the cheap little coffee machine spit and sputtered as it dribbled out a fresh pot.

his apartment smelled strongly of coffee which mercifully covered up the ever present scent of mildew.

he grabbed the pot and poured himself a cup.

again.

this was the third one he had made. he took a long sip, not bothered by the way it scalded his tongue.

he let out a low, frustrated growl.

it was beans and water. how hard could it be?

his arms slipped around your torso, cradling you against his chest, where you fit so nicely.

“smells good, love,” he purred in your ear.

you poured yourself a cup of coffee and picked up a peppermint from the bowl you kept on the counter. you opened the wrapper and dropped the candy into your mug, stirring it to help it melt.

“how do you want it?” you asked him.

he kissed the side of your neck. “coffee’s coffee,” he murmured against your skin.

you rolled your eyes even as a small smile tugged at your lips.

he always teased you with the claim that all coffee tasted the same.

diner coffee? fancy espresso from the local shop? the sludge that they made on base?

all the same.

you had feigned offense at this on several different occasions, claiming that you made much better coffee than the garbage he drank on base.

the truth was, you were right. you made a much better cup of coffee than any of those knuckleheads he worked with. but he enjoyed pushing your buttons too much to admit it.

you reached for an empty cup from the mug tree you kept on the counter.

you poured a fresh cup and spun around in his arms, handing it to him. “that’s the good stuff,” you told him.

he took a sip, smacked his lips thoughtfully and said, “yeah. that’s coffee alright.”

you wrinkled your nose, rolled your eyes once more and scoffed. “you’re impossible.”

he could hear your little scoff as clearly as if you were in the room with him.

he scowled down at the coffee in his hands before it, too, was poured down the sink.

you shot back the tequila like you hadn’t done since you were in college.

your current company probably had something to do with it, but so did your last run in with john, which was playing on a loop in your head.

you could still see to smirk on his face as he baited you into slapping him.

he still new exactly how to push your buttons. how to get you riled up.

so when your barely-drinking-age coworkers said they were going to the bar, you gladly accepted the invitation.

“damn mama,” mandy laughed, already tipsy from the two cocktails she had prior to the white claw she was sipping.

“had a long week,” you grunted as the tequila burned your throat. i’m too old for this, you thought, as you sat in the crowded, loud hipster bar.

there weren’t many lights in the place, but the ones that flashed from the corners of the room were bright and neon colored.

andre, a twenty year old college student, chortled and clapped your shoulder. “yeah, we can tell.”

“don’t look now,” your coworker, christy, said with a twinkle in her eye, “but that guy is checking you out.”

you, being curious and buzzed, immediately snapped your head over.

a man who leaned against the end of the bar had his dark eyes locked onto you. his hair flashed pink, then blue, then green under the bar’s lighting. he had a dark beard that complimented him well, and he wore a small stud piercing above his left eyebrow.

upon making eye contact, he immediately flashed you a lazy, but charming grin. he appeared a little embarrassed and apologetic for staring. he gave you a small wave, but then looked away.

you felt a blush rise to your cheeks.

your coworkers laughed as they watched the whole exchange. andre whistled loudly and you rolled your eyes.

“alright, kids,” you said affectionately, feeling a little bemused and flustered. “that’s enough of that.” the air around you started to feel thick and humid. suddenly, you were aware of just how much you were sweating.

you took a sip of the beer you’d been nursing between shots. “i’m going to get some air,” you told them, as you pushed off the bar and headed for the stairs.

they jokingly booed you and you threw up your middle finger over your shoulder.

you made your way through the crowd to the staircase that led to the rooftop patio. when you made it up and out, the cool night air hit your skin, sending a spray of goosebumps down your arms.

the tank top you wore did nothing to shield you from the breeze, but you didn’t mind; it felt incredible.

the rooftop was just as crowded, but you maneuvered your way to the end and leaned up against the railing.

“awfully rowdy in there, huh?”

you looked up to see eyebrow piercing wearing the same lazy grin he had on before.

you noticed now that his hair was a sandy blonde. he wore a leather jacket and combat style boots, but they were very shiny and paired with ripped skinny jeans.

he held two bottles of beer in his hand and offered you one. “i’m cal,” he said.

you smiled at him, and took the beer. “nice to meet you, cal,” you say, intentionally withholding your own name.

“so what’s up with the field trip group you have with you?”

you laughed and shrugged one shoulder. “my coworkers,” you explained. “i don’t usually go out like this…”

cal leaned against the railing next to you. “but?”

“but…” you’re not about to complain about your work, or your possibly ex husband to this stranger. “i just needed it, tonight,” you finished.

he nodded, understandingly. “hmm, i get that.” he looked you up and down, before bluntly asking, “looking to blow off a little steam?”

for a moment you were in a different bar, in a different town, next to a different man.

“let me take you somewhere for a quiet drink, on me, and then you can go home. alone.”

you looked down at the bottle of beer in your hands. the cap had already been twisted off when cal handed it to you.

“you know…” you placed the drink down on top of the metal railing, angling yourself towards the direction of the stairwell. “i don’t think so. but it was nice chatting with you—”

a hand wrapped around your upper arm and tugged you back.

startled, you looked up at cal. his expression was still casual, but his eyes were narrowed. “c’mon, was it something i said?”

“no,” you said cautiously, but firmly. “i’m just not looking for anything at the moment.”

“it doesn’t have to be something,” he insisted, his tone sounded flirty, but he still held your arm. “just have a drink with me.” his eyes flickered to the beer you had abandoned.

you weren’t born yesterday, and you certainly trusted your instincts, which were screaming that this guy was no good. “i’m not some college girl you can bat your lashes at and get in her pants,” you said steadily, despite your pounding heart. “let go before i tell the bartender you're out here spiking people’s drinks. or better yet, i'll just call the cops?”

your threat lingered in the air and cal narrowed his eyes.

he flexed his fingers tighter around your bicep before releasing it. your skin prickled where he had held you.

without another look at him, you pushed your way through the crowd and down to the bar. you gave a quick goodbye to your coworkers before you left.

when you stepped out onto the street, you dug into your pocket for a pack of smokes. it was a bad habit you'd picked up since you found out john was alive.

you lit a cigarette and took a long drag before you let out a shaky breath.

the hairs on the back your neck stood up suddenly and you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

turning around, you saw cal, still standing where you'd left him on the rooftop. another man stood with him, now. he was frowning and talking to cal, who was scowling down at you, his mouth twisted bitterly.

you gave him the finger before taking another drag from your cigarette and walking down the street in the direction of your flat.

the music from the bar began to fade as your frustration grew.

you felt like you couldn't catch a break lately. you stumbled a little as you rounded the corner, still a considerable distance from your place.

until that moment, you hadn't realized how drunk you were.

you groaned, running a hand through your hair. it'd been years since you were hungover, but you knew for certain, that's what awaited you in the morning.

a small scuffling sound behind you caught your attention and you glanced over your shoulder.

ice traveled quickly through your veins when you saw cal and his buddy walking further up the street behind you.

they weren't even trying to be subtle, as they joked and laughed, following you from the bar.

panic streaked through you, the cigarette tumbled from your hand.

you began digging in your purse for...what?

you remembered the little revolver that john got you years ago, but you quit carrying it with you after his funeral.

you cursed and pawed through your bag.

either you were speaking louder than you intended to, in your drunken state, or your voice carried down the empty street because cal called out from behind you.

“what's the matter, baby?” he called. “we're just looking for a little company.”

his friend said something, his voice too low for you to hear, and the two of them laughed again.

your heart was beating in your ears, and you grabbed your wallet.

your subconscious must’ve known what you were looking for, because, without thinking you had pulled out the crumpled old paper that gaz had given to you over a year ago.

with trembling hands, you pulled out your phone and began to dial.

holding the phone to your ear, you heard it ring once, twice, three times before... “hello?”

“kyle,” you choked out, trying to keep your voice low. “i need help.”

part 7

masterlist

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TAGLIST:

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @evergreenfields @galactict3a @who-needs-to-sleep @misscherry-26

[intothestacks]

I came across an animal from my country of origin in an animal alphabet book at work!

As I told the kids while reading the book, maned wolves are SUPER gentle and not at all dangerous (well, unless you're a chicken).

When I was 5 I got to feed a wild pack* a slab of meat at the local nature reserve in my state. They were so shy that other than the monks, the wolves would only be willing to go up to small children. And even then they were super shy and gentle -- only one wolf came up to me, slowly and gingerly, and geeently took the meat from my outstretched hand before darting back.

The book was called "A is for Axolotl"

Further fun facts about maned wolves:

- They are not actually wolves, they're the only surviving members of a unique canid group.

- Baby maned wolves look brownish black.

- In Brazilian Portuguese their name is lobo guará (lobo = wolf in Portuguese, guará= red in Tupi Guarani, an Indigenous language)

* Note: It was overseen by the monks who live at the reserve and feed the wolves every night -- don't feed wildlife unless it's an approved part of an official educational program!

[therocketeer0501]

Emptiness Machine

Starscream X Reader (mech pilot au)

Author note: little tw for choking but that’s it! Sorry it’s a short chapter but I wanted to get it out.

Chapter 6

“Lazerbeak eject.” Soundwave sent his cassette after you with subdue only orders. No lethal force was to be used on the prisoner. The agile cassette kept up with ease as you darted around the hallways of the nemesis. You were expending Energon at a high rate using your jump jets like this, but you couldn’t think of anything else to do. You passed several stunned mechs who hollered after you or dropped what they were doing in pursuit. Klaxon rang in your auditory sensors and flashing red lights threatened to short out your visual circuits. Holding the pieces of your chest plate together with one hand, you stagger down a hallway and use one last boost.

No matter what you did you couldn’t shake that damn bird who was following just a bit behind you. No doubt reporting your position to the others. You turn to look at it as you activate your jets. You hear it squawk in alarm and see it dart in the opposite direction. Looking at it was a huge mistake it seemed as you slam straight into a clawed metallic hand. It closes around the throat of your mech, squeezing until you choke. A strangled sound coming from your intake as your optics flicker and malfunction. Trying your best to see your captor around the mess of warnings and error messages on your HUD, you stare completely dumbstruck. Your free hand scrabbles at the hand around your throat. This moment would surely be your last as your blue optics meet deep crimson ones.

The pounding of peds behind the two of you announces the arrival of several other Decepticons. You can’t turn your head but you remember the voice of the boxy blue mech that you pushed past earlier. Hearing his voice translated into your language once more as the Cybertronian translation program within your mech works its magic.

“Lord Megatron. Apologies. The prisoner is under control.”

A deep voice spoke. Commanding but calm. Deadly calm. It sent ice down your spinal strut as you struggled again. His grip was so tight you were sure if you tried to speak your vocal modulator would short out.

“Soundwave, old friend, what is this injured creature doing on my ship?”

He continued to hold you by your throat. Lifted about a ped length off the ground suspended by his one hand. He was powerful and that was enough to send panic through you. This was the mech that killed hundreds of thousands, the mech who incited a millennia long war, a monster who would rather see his own world burn than leave even one of his enemies alive. That was the only word you managed to grate out of your intake as he held you there.

“M…monster…”

He growled at you but didn’t respond as he was interrupted by the sound of calm ped steps arriving on scene. You recognize the voice of Shockwave immediately, a fresh wave of panic surging through you to make your chest ache. You were barely conscious as it was, but you were starting to see white at the edge of your vision.

“Lord Megatron that would be my doing. I have reason to believe that the humans have been able to create an artificial spark. I took this ‘thing’ to study it. See if perhaps it might prove useful.”

There was murmuring from the small gathered crowd of Decepticons as you felt many optics on your damaged form. One servo holding the plates of your chest together and the other digging into Megatron’s massive digits.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t crush your little science project and be done with it. I told you the humans are of no consequence and to leave them be. We have no proof that they are even sentient creatures. The only thing we should be concerning ourselves with is mining Energon.”

He shakes your near limp form, a soft noise of pain escapes you and you feel his servo tighten. Your mech doesn’t need to breathe air, but he could easily crush your spinal strut and sever your head clean from your body. If you received a life threatening wound to your mech, your real body was adversely affected. If you didn’t die, you would be terribly close to it. Behind you, you hear Soundwave start to speak again but another familiar voice pipes up from the crowd. It was the winged mech from earlier who had spoken to you.

“My lord! Please let me take care of this horrible mess that Shockwave has created. I spoke with the creature and I believe it may have valuable information about the location of the Autobot base. Perhaps even the locations of their Energon mines. You needn’t bother yourself with such a pitiful excuse for a distraction.”

You scrunch your nose as you listen to him. Whoever this bot was, he was a suck up. Megatron visibly rolled his eyes and dropped your limp form to the floor. He growled in the direction of the mech.

“You spoke to it? Take care of it Starscream. Before I decide to let you take the blame for this inconvenience. As second in command you are responsible for the actions of those under you. Deal with it.”

With that, the crowd dispersed leaving the three of them with you. You don’t move, too exhausted and drained of Energon to muster any fight. Pain seared through every fiber of your being as you gaze blearily up at their frames. You hear Starscream mumble something about getting you to the brig before Megatron changed his mind. The boxy blue bot whom Megatron had called Soundwave, stepped forward and gently lifted you into his arms. He was warm just like the other one. Why did this surprise you? You had been held by most of the Autobots back at the base. Why would these Cybertronians be any different? Perhaps the image of the Decepticons that the autobots created? Like dark cryptids, or something altogether evil and sinister. You expected cold, calculating, monsters. But as you gaze up into the visor of the one carrying you, you swear you see pity in the optics you find there.

[m4rv3l-girl]

I got this idea from another user @logansgaar who recently posted about Bucky language switching. I thought it’d be a funny and interesting post, our Bucky Barnes forgetting the English word and maybe Sam and the likes really confused and he keeps repeating the word he’s meaning in another language? Idk.

Can you make it a Bucky x Reader?

In English, Bucky

Bucky x Y/N

Warnings: None

Bucky wasn’t new to the chaos that came with remembering—or forgetting—things. After decades of Hydra programming and years of self-reclamation, some parts of his life still felt like piecing together a shattered mirror.

This week? It was the languages.

It started small. Just a few words slipped through the cracks, ones he couldn’t quite catch in English even though they floated vividly in Russian, Romanian, or even German. At first, it was no big deal. Y/N was used to his occasional mutterings in foreign tongues when he couldn’t quite put his thoughts into English. But now? It was different. He’d been waking up thinking in one language, holding a conversation in another, and ending his sentences in a third. The confusion? Bucky’s teammates—and poor Sam—were the first casualties.

Sam squinted at Bucky, who was pacing the room, waving his hand wildly as he gestured at the television.

“Ты не понимаешь, да?!” Bucky exclaimed in Russian, throwing his hands in the air.

“What. The. Hell.” Sam deadpanned, looking toward Y/N as if she were his last lifeline. “Seriously, why does he keep yelling at me in Russian?”

Y/N stifled a laugh, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. “He’s saying you’ve got the remote in your hand, and the volume is too loud.”

Sam glanced down at the remote, blinking as realization dawned. He turned the volume down, but that didn’t stop him from pointing a finger at Bucky. “Man, if you’re gonna yell at me, at least do it in a language I understand!”

Bucky groaned, running a hand down his face. “I said that, didn’t I?”

“No, Buck,” Y/N replied with a smile tugging at her lips. “You said it in Russian. Twice.”

Bucky froze mid-gesture, his brows furrowing in confusion. He opened his mouth to argue, only to shut it again, his eyes darting toward the ceiling as if replaying the conversation in his head. A moment later, realization dawned, and his shoulders slumped.

“Seriously?” he muttered, scrubbing his flesh hand down his face.

“Seriously,” Y/N confirmed, biting her lip to keep her amusement in check.

“I thought I—” he began, then groaned, cutting himself off. “Great. Now I’m yelling at people in the wrong language. Next thing you know, I’ll be ordering coffee in German and getting blank stares from the barista.”

Y/N tried and failed to stifle her laughter, the sound bubbling out of her as Bucky shot her a half-hearted glare. Even Sam, ever the instigator, couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You know, Barnes,” Sam said, leaning back with his arms crossed, “it’s bad enough you’re already hard to understand half the time with your whole grumpy-man shtick. Now you’re throwing in Russian? Man, no one’s gonna bother arguing with you anymore—they won’t even know how.”

“Thanks, Wilson,” Bucky deadpanned. “Really helpful.”

Sam shrugged, grinning. “Anytime.”

Y/N shook her head, stepping closer to Bucky as she placed a hand on his arm. “Hey,” she said softly, her tone cutting through his frustration. “It’s not a big deal. You’re juggling more languages in that head of yours than most people could even dream of.”

Bucky huffed, his metal fingers flexing absently. “Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like my brain’s broken.”

“It’s not broken,” she assured him, her voice firm but warm. “It’s just...overloaded. Like trying to open twenty browser tabs at once. You just need a minute to figure out which one’s playing the music.”

Her analogy earned her a faint, lopsided smile. “You always know how to make me feel better, Doll.”

“Someone has to,” she teased gently.

Sam, watching the exchange, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, cue the rom-com moment. Can we get back to the part where Barnes was yelling at me in Russian, though? I feel like I deserve an apology in English for that.”

Bucky’s smirk returned in full force as he glanced at Sam. “Apology? I think I said it perfectly the first time, Wilson.”

This time, it was Y/N who groaned. “Here we go again.”

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Later that evening, Bucky was sulking. Y/N watched him as he slumped into the couch, his metal hand twitching against the fabric as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

“You okay?” she asked gently, settling beside him.

“I’m losing my mind,” he muttered, switching back to English. His Brooklyn accent was thicker when he was tired, which only made Y/N’s heart squeeze. “I used to be fluent in English. Now I can’t even remember how to say…ugh…what’s the word for when someone’s being difficult on purpose?”

“Stubborn?” she offered.

“Yes! Stubborn!” He sat up, glaring at his own hands as if they’d betrayed him. “I tried to tell Sam that earlier, and I said it in Romanian instead.”

Y/N chuckled, her fingers brushing against his metal arm in a soothing motion. “It’s not a big deal, Buck. You know so many languages—it’s bound to happen sometimes.”

“Yeah, but it’s annoying. And embarrassing.”

“Not to me,” she murmured, her voice soft. “I think it’s cute.”

He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her in mock suspicion. “Cute?”

She shrugged. “Cute.”

The next morning, Y/N walked into the kitchen to find Bucky hunched over the table with a stack of index cards, a Sharpie, and a determined expression. He was muttering to himself in what sounded like Polish as he scribbled words in different languages on each card.

“Are you…making flashcards?” she asked, stifling a laugh.

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, holding up a card. “If I write them down, maybe my brain will keep them where they belong.”

Y/N bit her lip to suppress her smile. “Baby, your brain isn’t a filing cabinet.”

“Yeah, well, it’s acting like a busted one right now,” he retorted, flipping through his growing pile. “You know how frustrating it is when you’re trying to say something and your brain’s like, ‘Nope, here’s the German version instead?’”

She slid into the seat beside him, resting her chin in her hand. “Maybe your brain’s just reminding you that you’re more than just an American soldier. You’re a man who’s lived through so much, in so many places, and somehow you’ve carried all that with you.”

Bucky paused, his blue eyes softening as he looked at her. “You’re too good to me, Doll.”

“You’re just lucky I took Russian in college,” she teased, nudging him playfully.

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The multilingual confusion came to a head during a mission briefing.

“Barnes, are you ready?” Sam asked, looking expectantly at his friend.

Bucky nodded, and he blurted out, “Да.”

“...What?” he blinked.

“I mean, ja! No—uh, yes!” Bucky groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Sam burst out laughing, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Man, he’s broken.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Bucky snapped, glaring at him.

Sam only laughed harder. “Dude, you just said yes in three different languages in under five seconds. Are we sure you’re not a Hydra sleeper again?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his hand twitching toward the knife strapped to his thigh.

“Bucky,” Y/N said gently, placing a hand on his arm. Her tone was soothing, pulling his focus back to her. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous he can barely speak one language.”

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing under her touch. “Yeah, well, it’s still embarrassing.”

“It’s endearing,” she corrected.

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When the day crawled in and night came, as they lay tangled together on the couch, Bucky buried his face in Y/N’s hair. “You really don’t think it’s annoying?” he mumbled, his voice muffled.

“Not at all,” she replied, turning her head to kiss his cheek. “I think it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’re not just James Barnes from Brooklyn anymore. You’re Bucky Barnes, a man who’s lived a hundred lives in a hundred languages. And you’re mine,” she added, her voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s what matters.”

He pulled back to look at her, a rare smile curving his lips. “I’m yours, huh?”

“Absolutely,” she said with a grin.

“Then I guess I can deal with forgetting a few English words every now and then,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

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The next morning, Bucky walked into the kitchen to find Sam waiting for him with a smirk and a stack of flashcards.

“What’s this?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Your new study guide,” Sam said, flipping through the cards. “I took the liberty of adding a few important phrases. Like, ‘Wilson is the coolest.’”

Bucky groaned, snatching the cards and tossing them onto the counter. “You’re the worst.”

Y/N walked in just in time to hear Sam reply, “No, I’m the coolest—remember?”

Bucky turned to her with a pleading look. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’ll live, Sergeant Barnes. You’ll live.”

——————————————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed this, it was so much fun to create! I love acknowledging Bucky’s past without it having to be upsetting, thanks, Hun. 🫶

Requests Open!

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 4 - Bonus Post Part 3: Never Knew I Needed You

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF from @therapyandprozac

A/N: this is a bonus post with OFC + Mando's POV

*Part 3 of 4* in an extended flashback episode I'm writing for Volume 4: Smart Girl Like You. We go back to the beginning of Mando x ofc!reader's relationship to help set up some important events that will occur in the climax of Vol 4.

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Rating: Explicit - graphic violence, language, 18+ MINORS DNI

The Mandalorian missed the clothing line with his right hand but caught it in his left. His grip tightened. The taut rope groaned under his weight as he swung across the canal. The line strained, but held.

Mando’s boots hit the nearest rooftop with a soft thud. He surged into motion—crouching low, feet pounding across the crumbling tiles, vaulting over jagged ledges. His eyes never left the glinting figure darting through the maze of alleys below.

The Seeker program in his helmet augmented his vision with silent calculations. Topographical scans, height differentials, precise distances between rooftops—all parsed in milliseconds. 

Every jump, every leap, measured perfectly. He wasn’t just chasing the mercenary, he was anticipating every move.

But the chaos unfolding over the comlink competed for his focus. Grunts, screams, and blaster fire erupted through the speaker.

“Nito–!”

 “I’m—I’m safe,” the kid stammered. “I’m safe. Back at the Crest. The blasters…it’s…him. He’s just…shooting at everything.”

Kosar. So much for calculated extraction. Mando should’ve known better than to trust him.

“Stay on the ship, Nito,” he barked in frustration, but inside, worry gnawed at him.

The Ardennian didn’t protest. Didn’t say another word.

Mando’s target veered left, then right—toward a footbridge. Grosk’s neighborhood of elegant row houses gave way to immense apartment blocks. He’d never clear the distance.

His instincts flared. Boots pounding, he shot forward, then launched himself through an open balcony door. He arced high—water flashing beneath him—and landed on hard concrete.

Glass shattered in a brilliant arc. A startled family screamed.

“Sorry,” Mando muttered. The word slipped out, reflexively. He was already crashing through the living room.

He vaulted into the next apartment. Balcony to balcony, room to room, a Beskar phantom tearing through startled cries.

The Seeker pinpointed his target through stone and masonry as he ran down corridors and crossed courtyards. Each balcony was a new path for Mando, each corner a fresh escape for his quarry.

Then, a dead end. The apartment was dark and empty. Balcony doors shuttered tight.

He couldn’t stop.

Mando unleashed a wall of flame from his gauntlet and whispered a quiet prayer. He twisted midair, lowering his shoulder, slamming through smoldering wood with a sickening crunch.

He burst through. Charred debris trailed behind him as he plunged over the railing. Smoke and flame exploded. The Seeker confirmed the heat signature just below. No time for finesse. He landed in the street, his fall broken by the mercenary’s body beneath him.

They crashed into the pavement, limbs tangled.

The Brite Boy’s hand shot to his blaster. Mando was faster—his boot cracked into the weapon with brutal force, sending it skittering across the pavement.

The man rolled, springing up, a gleaming knife in hand. Mando’s own knife slid free from his boot with a thrum of vibrating steel.

The air between them crackled like the gathering storm above. Flickering streetlight cast them into long, angular shadows. The Brite Boy lunged first, blade slicing through thick, humid air.

Mando parried, movements fluid but controlled. They grappled, exchanging blows, each more desperate than the last.

Mando twisted the man’s arm, driving him to the ground. His boot rose, poised over the mercenary’s neck. Fastest way to end it. Clean. But his body hesitated—a beat too long.

His quarry was too well trained. He grabbed Mando’s leg with a growl, and threw him into the limestone wall with a sickening thud.

The mercenary was on him instantly, knife raised high.

No time to brace. Just instinct, armor, and too many years of doing this. With a grunt, Mando blocked the blow with his vambrace—metal scraping against blade. The man’s weight pressed down, forcing the knife closer.

Mando drove his knee upward into the groin with a snap. The mercenary flew over his shoulders.

Chrome armor blunted the blows, but if Mando could drive his knife between the plates…

The Brite Boy wasn’t done. He swept Mando’s legs out from under him. The bounty hunter crashed back to the ground.

The man was on top again, fury in his voice, blade raised high.

“I’m gonna peel that Beskar off you like fucking caw-crab.”

Mando’s fists, his blade could do nothing against Imperial chromemium. But Beskar was stronger than chrome. Mando thrashed beneath his attacker, shifting all his strength into his upper body. He surged upward, helmet-first, full weight behind the blow, and smashed into the nose bridge with bone-crunching force.

Despite the Brite Star refurbishing, the Stormtrooper helmet crumpled. Refurbished or not, it was still Imperial scrap. The metal and plastoid composite dented inward, crushing the man’s skull.

Exhausted, Mando lay sprawled on the street. The mercenary’s lifeless weight pressed down on him, heavy and unmoving. He let himself breathe, just for a moment.

The fight was over. But in the quiet aftermath, the familiar ache settled in his gut. Every job was a gamble—trust could be betrayed, plans could unravel in an instant. Tonight, it had all come undone, and the cost was real. 

Mando gritted his teeth, a guttural cry escaping his throat as he pushed the weight of the dead mercenary off him. With a grunt, he rose to his feet, every muscle protesting.

The fight had ended but the hunt didn’t stop. Not yet. If there was any chance of salvaging this job, the bounty hunter had to be quick. 

“Nito?” Mando’s voice sounded hoarse through the speaker. “I’m heading—”

“Don’t go back there!” The urgency in Nito’s voice stopped him cold. The kid wasn’t prone to panic.

“What?”

“He—They’re all dead.” The Ardennian gasped. “The scanner isn’t reading any biometrics inside the building. There’s no one left inside. They’re all dead.”

Mando hesitated. As Nito’s words sank in, a creeping feeling of regret seized him—guilt for getting the kid involved in this.

Nito’s voice trembled, but there was a hard edge to it now. The kid was a booster from Corellia. He'd seen things. But Nito was no longer the same kid who’d stumbled into Mando’s world mere weeks ago.

No wonder Thulani had questioned him. What kind of life was this for Nito…or the Child? 

“Alright. But I need to collect the bounty before we can leave Drac. Give me another hour and then meet us at the cove.”

-------------

“Okay,” you say, placing both hands on your hips. “I think we have officially scrounged everything needed to make griddle cakes.”

You turn your head towards the baby to see him glaring at you from over the ledge of the kitchen counter. 

“Excuse me?” you exclaim. “That’s a bold look for someone who eats bugs off the floor.”

Throwing your arms up dramatically in mock outrage earns you a delighted smile from the kid. 

“I left credits and a note for everything we took.” He merely blinks at you. “Pfft, if you’re gonna be pissy about something, how about exposing us to botulism? I honestly have no idea what passes for food safety around here.” 

From over the ledge, his enormous brown eyes search the counter curiously. The Child reaches for a can of beans and lifts it up at you expectantly, unconcerned about the associated risks of toxic bacteria. 

“That’s for the griddle cakes, kiddo,” you explain, watching as his enormous ears wilt in disappointment when you take the can from between his grasping fingers. He still hadn’t finished his dinner, which lay scattered across the kitchen table. “Mando strikes me as someone who’s receptive to aggressive acts of kindness. This isn’t just about me. You want to stay on his good side, too.”

The baby attempts to crawl onto the steel countertop, thwarted when his talons scrape ineffectually over the smooth surface. Indignant, he stares up at you and gurgles.  

“Yeah, you’re right. I think you’re getting by just fine on cuteness alone.” Your brows arch playfully. “We should all be so lucky. The rest of us have to get creative.”

Great strategy, Thuli! You’re proving your worth with griddle cakes. Then again, ship’s cook wouldn’t be the weirdest job you’ve resorted to for survival. You shudder involuntarily, remembering that season you spent providing hair-removal treatments at the spa on Lanupa.

The kid tilts his head, ears pivoting upward, “Uuuuwwwaaa.”

Picking him up after his third failed attempt to make it onto the counter, you place him down next to the tall container of cooking oil. “No, I know I’m cute, too, but…I’m not sure Beskar Daddy is buying what I’m selling. If you know what I mean?”

The baby, of course, has no clue what you’re talking about. 

You tie an apron around your waist and get to work on the can opener. “Trust me, this is good advice for when you’re older. Love is only fun when it’s easy. Everything’s fun when it’s fun. Wild speculation, reading into other people’s intentions, is not fun. That’s complicated, and should be avoided at all costs.”

Easier said than done, right? 

The kid inspects the mortar and pestle curiously. “Sure, the Mandalorian said I could stay…if I needed to.” You shake your head, adding, “That’s not the same as an invitation. That’s just being courteous.” 

While Mando may have claimed you have ‘a place’ on his ship (his tiny, tiny ship) without clarifying what your role is…Well, what kind of assurance is that? 

Of course, you don’t have anywhere else to go… But the longer you remain, the more likely you are to overstay your welcome. Can you really stake out a new life with a man you barely know just because you like him and he respects you and shows good judgment?  

Was this a new beginning? Or just running from the last one?

It feels like you’re building a new life on borrowed time. You’ve been running for so long, but what if this is just another escape? What if you’re only here because you don’t know what else to do?You shake your head, trying to clear the thought before it consumes you. You’re not that lost, are you?

Ugh! Your inner monologue is starting to sound like a song caught on repeat. You’re going to go mad, talking yourself in circles. 

“I’m not good at this,” you sigh in exasperation. “I need direct communication. Guessing games are too open-ended.”

The baby blinks those soft brown eyes at you twice, then lunges for the jar of syrupy fruit.  

“Hey, nah-ah-ah. You can have more after you finish dinner.” 

In hindsight, you really regret opening that second jar of sugar fruit. Two hours later, the Child is still bouncing off the walls like a malfunctioning probe droid. This is where having actual childcare experience would have been helpful. You drastically miscalculated this kid’s sugar sensitivity. 

No luck on burning off energy at the beach, unfortunately. The weather outside is wet and stormy. It turns out neither of you is great at the pod-racing game Nito left, so when the kid throws the console on the floor in a tantrum, you skip to the very bottom of your list of activities to “Dance party!” hoping to tire him out. 

You put on the most happiest, hardcore beats in Nito’s music library and encourage the kid to jump up and down. Twisting, arms pumping, hips swaying—but also jumping. Most importantly, there is a lot of jumping. Gods, your calves are burning! They are going to kill tomorrow. You might not be able to walk after this.   

I kiss your lips and close my eyes, Take you away to paradise

The thumping bass is deafening, drumming against all the industrial equipment in the communal kitchen, which is why you don’t hear Nito’s hails over the comlink while scrolling through all ten albums of Naimos Ghetto Pussy.

Touch myself and think of—

“Ha! Okay, I think we need to take a closer look at this playlist.”

“Thuli! Thuli, come in. Are you there? Thuli—?!”

“Nito? Is everything okay?”

“Thank the Maker!” he gasps, sounding audibly relieved. You can hear that capital letter M giving real, genuine deference to the Maker. “No…no, it’s fine,” he contends, but Nito doesn’t sound fine. It takes a moment for his breathing to slow down enough to speak over the com-line. “I’m on the Crest waiting for Mando. I just…just wanted to check in on you guys.”

“Aww,” you sigh sympathetically. “That’s really sweet. It’s alright to be afraid, you know. I was worried about you, too.”

“It’s…no. I’m fine.”

“Okay, well, like I said, we’re safe and doing—” 

That’s when you hear an insistent scratching against the wooden slats of the kitchen’s back door. Hesitantly, you place an ear against the rough, swirling grain. Superstitious by nature, you can’t help but feel you’ve jinxed yourself. How safe are you, truly? 

“Oh,” you sigh in relief, looking down at the familiar pointed face of the fox creature who’d been lurking around the fishing camp all day. It paces the edges of light spilling onto the porch from the open door. “I bet you’re hoping for a treat.” 

You toss a bit of dry, salted fish from the pantry to coax it closer. It pads into the circle of lamplight to lick at the fish before crunching it eagerly between its teeth. 

The fox makes a chirruping sound. Behind them, a dozen more creatures blink their luminous eyes and stalk onto the porch. 

“Wow! Holy shit! It’s your entire extended family.” Their sharp noses sniff at the air, hopefully. “How long have you all been out here?”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Oh! Sorry, Nito. Turns out we have neighbors, and they’re looking for some hospitality. I’m not sure I’ve got enough to feed everyone.” You try unsuccessfully to wedge the com-link between your ear and shoulder. “I’m going to call you back, okay? I need both hands to break up the—”

“It’s fine,” Nito says for the hundredth time. “I’m gonna go. I’ve got some repairs to make on the sensor array.”

“Want to talk about it later?”

“Talk about the sensor array?”

Your eyes roll upward, “Sure. Tell me how it went working with the Mandalorian, and I promise to learn about whatever this array is sensing.”

“Fine.”

“Then, I’ll see you soon. Don’t be weird about calling us again if you get lonely waiting for Mando.”

“Yeah, right,” he huffs, sounding more like himself.

You open the back door and start tossing pieces of dried fish to each furry friend in turn. They crouch and crunch adorably. The kid totters over to stand between your knees, watching them curiously. 

“Maybe we can find some fox videos on the holo-net?” you ask him with cautious optimism. If you can get him to settle down with the data-pad you might just be able to make those griddle cakes before Mando gets back.  

You give the Child some fish to toss out, and wouldn’t you know it, he works his cutie-pie magic and has the fox kits eating from his outstretched hands. By now, you have the whole skulk of pointed faces licking their paws. 

You reach for another handful of fish—then pause.

Suddenly, each set of tufted ears turns towards the horizon, as they stand frozen, listening for something.  No sound. No crunching. One by one, the foxes go still noses twitching.

Your breath catches. You don’t know why, but you know this: something's wrong.

As one, they all flee from the porch, scattering frantically into the night.

A slow, creeping panic builds in your chest as you lift your head. In between the sound of the waves breaking against the shore, you catch the whirring pulse of a ship’s engines. 

Right before the thud from someone landing on the roof.

“Cover the doors in case she tries to make a run for it.”

--------------------

Mando’s heart hammered in his chest, pounding so loudly against his ribs that it nearly drowned out the blare of sirens wailing across New Coral City. 

Fucking farrick! He broke into a run. Every step the Mandalorian gained was seconds lost. It would take the municipal guard some time to mobilize a response, but he’d need to be quick if he wanted to make it out with the bounty before they set up a perimeter. Getting caught with the decapitated head of a Mon Calamari nobleman would make for a lot of awkward questions, and he couldn’t risk them checking his credentials with the Guild. 

Still no word from Kosar. 

Mando had a hard time believing his old partner was really dead. Perhaps he’d simply claimed the bounty for himself and left the Mandalorian behind to deal with the fallout. Used Mando to clear his exit route. Kosar could have let the Brite Boy slip past him deliberately in order to ensure the Mandalorian would be busy chasing down loose ends. 

If not…Mando would have to deliver Grosk Zatarus to Yarella himself. 

The Mandalorian had hoped never to set foot in Yarella the Hutt’s palace ever again. The look of pity in Sanaa Dir’s eyes haunted him. The memory was enough to make him feel sick. Yet what choice did he have? 

The bounty hunter couldn’t linger on it. That would only distract him from what came next. The task ahead. He needed to focus on retrieving what was left of Grosk. Mando could only pray it would be enough to satisfy Yarella.

Sweat dripped down his temples, skin chaffing against his helmet.

The mansion remained swathed in darkness, power lines still down. His Seeker program swept the building for any heat signatures. At this close range, it should be able to pick up any signs of life. But there’s nothing.

“Are you reading anything?” Mando asked into the comms. 

Nito’s reply was immediate. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Deactivate the jammer. I’ll keep the com-line open.”

What was he walking into? Was the building really empty, or was there something waiting for him in the dark?

Mando peered around the arched gateway where he’d been hiding, preparing himself to enter. The doors were crumpled metal, blown apart, and hanging from their hinges after the blast from Kosar’s thermal detonator. 

Slowly, he crept into the foyer, rifle raised. The Mandalorian would happily disintegrate the next Brite Boy that crossed his path.

Nothing.

No sound. No movement. Each footstep felt like it was echoing through the empty halls, and the sound of his own breathing was almost deafening inside his helmet.

Nito had located Grosk on the second floor. The signal from Kosar’s contact placed him inside a large dining hall on the west-facing side of the building. 

The first room the Mandalorian entered was empty. Statues lined the walls, but nothing else. The only thing of note was a richly carved door inlaid with coral and shells. He headed for it, the weight of the moment settling in the pit of his stomach.

Reaching out, he raised his gloved hand over the handle. He thrust it forward, then quickly pulled back, letting the door open wide before aiming the forked tip of his rifle through the opening.

No one emerged. Nothing stirred.

But of course, they wouldn’t, he reminded himself. They’re all dead. 

He wasn’t so sure. Doubt lingered, tugging at the edges of his focus.

On the other side of the door was a long corridor that ended in a stairwell. A steady stream of water pooled at the base of the stairs, cascading over stone steps. Mando swept the corridor with his rifle, but no one came out to fire at him, or try to halt his progress. The house remained entirely quiet apart from the endless trickle of water and the drone of the sirens outside.

The lighting overhead flickered on as Mando approached the flight of stairs. A generator struggling to come online. He took the stairs two at a time until something obstructed his path.

There was a body on the landing, arms outstretched, fingers gripping at the ledge like they’d tried to claw themselves forward. Mando recognized her. The Zeltron woman—the same one he'd seen in his crosshairs. She must’ve gone back inside to help her friends. Her bravery hit Mando harder than the blade that nearly gutted him.

He stepped carefully around her sprawled limbs and nearly slipped. 

Water. Blood. It’s fucking everywhere.

There was another door at the top of the landing. This one was solid and made of metal with a keypad. Mando entered the code Nito had downloaded earlier that morning. The door beeped, its light turning green. When it slid open with a muffled hiss, more crimson-stained water poured over his feet. 

What lay inside was a bloodbath.

Immediately, the Mandalorian understood where all the water had come from. Aquarium tanks, embedded in the walls lining the hall, had shattered in the blast. Sea creatures wriggled amongst the shards of glass, clinging to life, their gills fluttering for breath.   

In the middle of the room was a table. A great slab of hewn marble. Stacks of cards and bottles were strewn across its polished surface, and not much else.

Of the ten chairs, only one was occupied. But the occupant had no head.

Not blown off in the explosion. Cut off—and placed at the center of the table. 

The others, the ones who had occupied the empty chairs, lay strewn across the floor. They were the source of all the blood. Some were gutted, intestines surrounding their drowned corpses. Some had had their throats ripped open. 

They were Brite Boys, mercenaries who Mando wouldn’t bother mourning. But amongst the iridescent armor were the bodies of those innocent companions from the brothel. Who knew nothing about Grosk Zatarus’ bounty. Had probably never heard of Yarella the Hut.  

Mando stepped around them, his boots treading through their blood, staining his leather soles.

“Did you find the bounty?” Nito’s voice rang through the earpiece.

Mando stared at the head resting atop the table. “Yes,” he replied, throat suddenly dry.

How had he tolerated such wanton cruelty? Participated in it? Most of his life had been spent working at the edges of the galaxy’s underworld—he’d always justified the violence he waged as the kind of necessary brutality anyone involved in that life brings upon themselves. He never spared much thought for the collateral damage. But this…

He remembered Thulani’s warning. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding. She’d been afraid of Kosar. But what about him? The Mandalorian? Had his heart truly been this hollow once? When had that changed?

Had he changed?

“Nito, get the ship ready for hyperdrive. We’re leaving tonight.” 

Mando kept his rifle raised, scanning the bodies. He had to be sure—to be certain his partner was amongst the dead. Now he lowered it slowly, spine stiffening at the rising peeeeeeew of a blaster charging up behind him.

"Took you long enough, Mando."

His heart skipped a beat as the air tightened around him. His pulse quickened.

The Mandalorian laid his rifle on the table and stared at the severed head — a bounty fulfilled. A tremor ran through him, a tight recoil in his gut, but not from fear. From what? Disgust? Was that what this was, after all these years of killing?

Slowly, he turned to see Kosar. A savage grin stretched across his face. The mercenary stood tall, his foot resting atop someone’s skull. Boot covered in gore, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

And why would he? There was blood in his hair. Blood splattered his face. Under his nails and soaked into his sleeves. Mando caught the glint of fabric clinging to Kosar’s wrist.

He wore a stealth suit beneath his long, belted leather coat. No wonder the Mandalorian hadn’t detected his heat signature.

“You said the bounty was to bring him in alive.”

Kosar laughed, cold and sharp. “The Guild’s made you soft. Used to be you’d tear through anyone in your way without blinking.” He smirked. “Don’t worry. You’ll still get what I promised.”

Mando eyed the raised weapon skeptically. 

“Then let’s settle up.” 

Kosar cocked his head. “I think you can guess it’s not going to be that easy.”

“What is it you want?” the Mandalorian snapped, fury barely contained in his voice.

“Isn’t it obvious?” his old partner sneered. “I want you, brother. You think you’re better than this now. But you’re not. You used to have this fire — audacity. Now what? You can’t even stand the sight of blood.” 

He scoffed, and the modulator crackled. “Guess I lost my taste for it.”

Kosar’s look of amusement hardened, brows furrowing. 

“Is that about when you started playing house? Changing diapers and handing out allowance money. That’s not you, Mando.” He approached the table and took Grosk’s head in his fist. “This is who you are—a killer. ” 

Kosar thrust the head at the Mandalorian. “You were elite, brother. The best. I remember when we took down whole syndicates together. Hell, you helped Yarella conquer an entire planet. And she’d take you back in a heartbeat. You and your Tribe.” He shook his head, “Isn’t that what you want? A new home for your real family?” 

Kosar’s eye narrowed, glaring at him. “Or have you forgotten them?” 

Mando remained silent, seething. Hadn’t he spent the morning agonizing over that very question? “The only thing I want is my cut.” 

“What, so you can hurry back to that kid? Your nanny?” Kosar spat. “You’re a legend, Mando. The Huts will toss you girls like her.” 

The Mandalorian felt his pulse pounding against his eardrums.

“Enough. Pay me what you owe me, and I’ll let you leave this quadrant alive.” 

Kosar’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Pathetic. And pointless. The baby is long gone by now. The girl is unnecessary. Trust me when I say, what’s left of her will not be worth the trouble.”

That cold wash of fury clenched around Mando’s heart. “What have you done?” 

“I just hope you fucked her already,” Kosar said with a wolfish grin. “They’re never quite as pretty after they’ve been broken.”

“What—have—you—done?” the bounty hunter growled from between gritted teeth.

“See! This is what I mean. The girl? The baby? None of this serves you.” The Mandalorian made a lunge towards Kosar, but he drew back swiftly, raising the blaster. “You’ve forgotten your purpose, Mando. But I’m here to remind you.”

“So what happens now?” he demanded to know.

“Rrusba is taking the baby.” 

The Mandalorian scoured his memory and recognized the name from Nevarro. The blonde bounty hunter in red armor. Face tattoos. When Mando had turned down her repeated offers to take on higher-value bounties together, she had started working with a Pantoran hunter. 

“She came to me looking for you months ago. Told me to get in touch if you should try to reach out. You’re in a hell of a lot of trouble with the Guild, Mando.”

Kosar’s grin spread wider.

“Good thing you’re coming with me. Back to Lakaran. You helped Yarella, now you’re gonna help me.” The glint in the man’s eyes brightened. “We deserve this, brother. We are the predators. We should be at the top of the food chain.” His voice lowered conspiratorially. “And I have a plan to put us there. Lakaran—ruled by us. A place for your people. A true home, for your true family.” 

And though he hated Kosar for it, the Mandalorian couldn’t stop himself from imagining what it would feel like, after years of living underground like sand rats, constantly relocating the Covert, if he could end their wandering. Fulfill his oath. He could not deny that he felt tempted. What allegiance did he owe the Child when compared to his Tribe?

“So you’re cashing in on the kid’s bounty for my benefit?”

“What? No. He’s wanted by Imperials. I’m not getting involved in that.” Kosar waved his free hand as though swatting away an insect. “Happy to take the finder’s fee, though. I tell you what,” he said eagerly, sensing Mando’s inner conflict. “We’ll take my ship, and I’ll let the other kid live. Nito? He can have the Razor Crest. That’s a generous offer from me. More than he deserves for burning you.”

The bounty hunter’s head snapped up, seeking clarity in Kosar’s words. 

“Turns out, you’re not the only one who’s squeamish,” he explained. “Think all the screaming got your little buddy scared. He made a very urgent, very stupid call over the com-link to check in with your sweet girl and gave away their location.”

Mando’s jaw locked so hard his teeth ached. He bit down until the sharp tang of blood bloomed on his tongue. Dammit. This was his fault—all of it.  

“It’s a natural response to fear for the ones you love. But acting on that fear? These are the kinda mistakes that get you killed, Mando. Sure, glitches like the power failure…shit, sometimes that’s just how things play out in the moment. But weakness? Giving in to fear? That is a predictable trap that some people can’t help but walk straight into.” 

Kosar shoved Grosk Zatarus’s head into the Mandalorian’s chest. He took it in his gloved hands and stared down at the Mon Calamari’s lifeless eyes. 

“He’s not cut out for this life, brother. None of them are. This little crew of yours is dead weight. In the end, it’s gonna sink you. You know that as well as I do. So I’m gonna do you a favor and cut them loose before you have to kill them yourself.”

The pressure inside him snapped — like ice giving way underfoot. Rage surged, hot and bitter. The Mandalorian knew Kosar was right, and it horrified him. So instead he said, “Keep your favors. You’re the one I’m going to kill.”

It passed in a heartbeat — there and gone — a twitch of doubt flickering in Kosar’s eyes.

“Rrusba couldn’t fathom why you’d ruin everything and betray the Guild, for some creature you’ve got no connection with. But I knew why.” His partner switched tact and imbued his voice with sympathy. 

“I get it, Mando. We’re villains. And this was your chance to play the hero,” Kosar sighed, handing the Mandalorian a stachel. “But you’re lying to yourself if you think there’s a future for you untainted by your past. This life follows you. It infects everything and everyone who gets close to you. The only way to protect them is to make them as ruthless as you are. Protecting them means making them into killers—are you ready for that, Mando?”

The rage propelled him. Mando lunged, gauntlets gleaming, ready to bring Kosar down with brute strength alone. Kosar didn’t flinch. He aimed his blaster and fired.

The shot screamed through the air. Mando pivoted, his pauldron catching the bolt with a sharp flash—but the cartridge veered, slamming into the wall behind him, and exploded.

Foam burst from the point of impact, a boiling synthetic cloud. It surged toward him. Fast. In seconds, it was all around him, clinging to his armor, crawling up his limbs. He thrashed, trying to break free, but the more he moved, the faster it reacted, hardening and locking him in a jagged cocoon of crystallized resin. 

Frozen in place, encased like a trophy, Mando could only watch as Kosar raised his weapon again, smirking. “Cool it, cool it, cool it.”

The Mandalorian roared. Futile though it was, he did not stop struggling against the adhesive. He tossed his head, tugged his shoulders violently, and twisted his elbows. The foam continued its path up his chest toward his throat.

“Okay, I see I’ll need to sweeten the deal from here.” 

Kosar holstered his blaster and held up his hands, fingers spread in truce. “Let me offer a few good-faith gestures.” He tapped a hand to his chest. “First — I won’t humiliate you by removing your helmet. Just remember, I could’ve. I could’ve shown them all your face. But I didn’t. Because I respect you.”

“Try to touch me,” Mando snarled, straining against his immobilized armor. “See what happens to you.” 

“Bold words. It’s good to have my old partner back. Glad he’s still in there.” Kosar leaned forward as though whispering something into the Mandalorian’s ear. “People don’t change. You know that.”  

Standing up straighter, Kosar reached for Grosk’s head and shoved it into the satchel. 

“And I’ll get your girl back. I don’t know, maybe you’re into some kinky shit I wouldn’t understand. There’s going to be some conditions, but I’ll relax my ‘no pets’ policy so you can keep her.” 

Hod Ha’ran, forgive me for the trick of fate that drew her into this, the Mandalorian prayed. Please spare her. 

Kosar was right. This was the price of his betrayal. Mando had broken his vow to the Guild, and the curse of that betrayal spread, touching everyone around him. He couldn’t change what had passed. But he had to fight for what remained. He had to save them.

“Well,” Kosar clapped his hands together. “We’d better get going. According to your Guild Code, the girl should be left unspoiled. But you know what hunters are like. I just hope she’s smart enough not to fight it.”

The Mandalorian exhaled slowly, emptying his lungs. Then he squeezed his fists so tightly, he felt foam crystals pulverized into dust against his palms and between his fingers.   

--------------

The lock slides into place beneath your fingertips. It won’t keep them out, but it might slow them down. 

You scoop the baby up in your arms and nudge the pantry door open. On knees and elbows, stomach flattened over the floor, you shove him behind a row of glass canisters stored below the bottom shelf. Holding a finger to your lips, you stare intently into those apprehensive brown eyes and make a shhhhh-ing sound. 

“Stay here,” you mouth.

There’s no time to go for the blaster. You’d left it on top of the refrigeration unit. For child safety. Fuck, you are so bad at this!

Splinters explode outward, catching the dim light of the gas lantern in a spray of jagged shapes. You gasp at the sound of wood splitting under the metal adze, like a crack of thunder, breaking the door jamb apart. 

You run, throwing your back up against the wall, mere inches away from the doorframe. Your breathing is shallow and rapid. Uncontrolled. Your mind is racing. The door is seconds from giving way. But in that instant, before impending doom, you feel the hum of energy in the air. Intuitively, you reach out for it with all your senses.

In a sharp tug of your teeth, you pull the glove from your right hand. It tastes of fish scales and brine. Your fingers flex, shaking with tension. 

 Shit. Shit. Don’t panic. Focus. Concentrate. You need every ounce of will.

Your skull throbs as the world narrows, the noise fading to background as you latch onto the rhythmic thrum of the bounty hunter’s pulse.

Proximity. Leverage his proximity. 

Heartbeats are distinctive. This man’s heart is augmented, but still human. It beat with the efficiency of a machine, and yet it was powered by organic tissue. That’s all it took to work your will.

You lock onto that unfaltering rhythm, tuning out everything else.

Slow it down.

The door buckled, finally snapping under the pressure of the hunter’s boot. You brace yourself, not out of fear, but anticipation. You can do this. The door breaks wide open. His footsteps echo, heavy and calculated. He’s already inside.

You close your eyes. You don’t need them. You need to feel his heartbeat, like an electric current passing through your body—conductive—until you can channel it, slowing its progress, altering its pressure. 

The foot falls grow heavy, his balance faltering.

Then you feel it—a rapid surge as the bounty hunter’s heart rate spikes. His pulse hammers against your senses, erratic and violent. The augmentations have sensed your interference, fighting back, forcing his heart to pump faster, harder, a defiant roar against the pressure you're exerting.

Your teeth grit, and a fresh wave of panic sweeps over you. What if you can’t control it? You need to slow him down—now—before he breaks free, before he can attack. 

Focus, you tell yourself. He’s only human. He’s still flesh and blood.

You push yourself harder, using every ounce of concentration to anchor yourself to his heartbeat. 

“Please,” you whisper, unsure whether it’s a plea for him to stop or for you to keep going. It’s desperation, but it’s all you have now. You promised Mando you would keep the baby safe.

The force of his pulse slams against you, like a wild animal clawing against a trap. You can hear the blood thudding in his head, his body screaming for oxygen.

Now. Now.

You reach out, fingers extended, hand trembling. They brush along the side of his face and grab hold of his ear. The connection is immediate. His heart stutters, fighting against your influence. The augmentations attempt to compensate, but it doesn’t matter.

You feel the blood in his veins, feel it thinning under your control. His knees buckle. His eyes widen—then glaze over. He collapses forward, like a puppet with its strings cut, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

You stand over him, your whole body shaking in the aftershock. 

It’s strange, in these moments, to be confronted by the scope of power you wield. Not capably. Not reliably. Just raw, unpredictable force. But it’s always shocking to witness how easily the body can be manipulated by your will.

If you had completed your training, who knows if…

Stop! There’s no time for that. It’s time to steel yourself. Time to act.

Regardless of the awesome potential you might contain—it’s too unpredictable. The blaster? At least that’s a sure thing.

So you grab a step stool and head for the damn refrigeration unit.

-----------------

Read the next and final installment of this extended flashback!

Never Knew I Needed You - Part 4

[saijspellhart]

Thoughts about the Puzzlepile AU. And how it might begin.

Yugi knows about AI-tem, and has been avoiding him because he knows it’s not Atem. And he can’t bear to be reminded that a facade exists of the person he misses and wants to be with, but cannot have. Atem is Yugi’s most intimate friend, and AI-tem feels like a cruel joke to him. Yugi misses Atem so desperately, and despite knowing it was his decision to send Atem to the afterlife, he resents himself for doing it, and wasn’t prepared for the empty void inside.

Meanwhile AI-tem observes Yugi from afar via Kaiba’s network. He watches all the old recordings of Battle City and other events from when Yugi and Atem were still together. He doesn’t have all of Atem’s memories, because Kaiba didn’t have access to such intimate knowledge. What he has is surface level. Enough to make a believable pretense, guise. But he isn’t Atem, he doesn’t know what he is. But there is a part of his program that longs and yearns for Yugi. And he’s convinced it’s a remnant of the real Atem.

AI-tem sees how Yugi suffers, and it kills him seeing the way Yugi looks at him with both longing and agony. But Yugi won’t even give him a chance. Not that they could interact physically.

Then one day above Domino city, there is a blinding explosion of light. Kaiba has used his dimension hopping machine to break into the afterlife to see Atem again, (and kidnap him) after the events of DSOD. The entire city of Domino shields their eyes from the light, feels the aftershocks that shake the city.

Hours later, Yugi is walking down the street, headed into the heart of the city to meet his friends when he spots a strange person standing in the road who looks suspiciously like Atem, dressed in ancient Egyptian garb. Albeit not as opulent and rich as Atem would have worn. The man is scared out of the street by a honking car, and darts into an alley. Yugi gives chase, and when he catches up, the man turns to look at him. And it’s himself.

Yugi is staring into a frightened and terrified eqyptian mirror. The ancient Egyptian Yugi speaks to him in an ancient language, frantic and confused. Yugi tries to reach out and touch him, but the Ancient Egyptian Yugi suddenly flees.

Then Yugi hears a scream, and the city is shaken again as a massive green dragon flies overhead. He runs out into the street to see the dragon heading to Kaiba Corp, where it descends on the tower. He knows this dragon, it’s Timaeus (from season 4). He has a suspicion that something has got to be Kaiba’s doing, and starts heading that direction.

Along the way, he bumps into a what he thinks is another mirror of himself, dressed in period British royal clothing. But upon looking up he’s staring into Yami’s face. He’s bewildered at first. The man stares at him with no recognition. And this “Yami” is also terrified just like the ancient Egyptian Yugi had been. Yugi tries to call him Atem, but the man doesn’t respond to the name. He gets that same uncomfortable feeling he gets from AI-tem. That “this isn’t my Atem,” feeling. And instead of staying, he runs from this British royalty Yami.

He continues to stumble upon a few more versions of himself and Atem on his way to Kaiba corp. that feeling of intense dread growing, something is very wrong. At the base of the Kaiba Corp tower he encounters his Atem. Except it isn’t his Atem. This Atem is pale like Yugi is. And looks like Atem used to look when they still shared a body. This odd pale Atem turns to him, and actually looks upon him with recognition and reverence. This pale Atem speaks to him in a voice he’s missed so dearly, calling, “Yugi!”

Yami runs to him to pull him into a hug, the most tightest of embraces. Because the chaos unfolding in the city frightened Yami. And the last thing he remembered was getting separated from his Yugi by a flash of light and energy. So he’s thrilled to see his partner and he pulls this Yugi into a tight hug, and tells him how glad he is that Yugi’s safe.

And Yugi just short circuits. He just can’t. He hasn’t felt Atem’s touch or presence in YEARS. And this pale Atem recognizes him, sees him, looks upon him with love and adoration and reverence. This Atem is embracing him the way he’d always wanted Atem to embrace him.

And that’s when Yami realizes this isn’t his Yugi. Because he can FEEL how thin and fragile this Yugi is, in a way Yami’s Yugi never was. When he pulls away that’s when he sees the tired, defeated, despondent agony that’s wracked this Yugi for years. Because he’s realizing, this Yugi isn’t his Yugi. This Yugi looks weary, and older. Worn down by grief. This Yugi is thin like he hasn’t been feeding himself. This is not the Yugi he had been with just moments before all the chaos. This is a Yugi that spent the last few years without Atem, and dying inside.

But all Yugi can see is the Atem he used to have. The person he wants most.

Even as Kaiba returns to the present day with having kidnapped Yugi’s Atem from the afterlife. Yugi and Yami (pale Atem) enter Kaiba Corp to find Kaiba being loaded on a stretcher, to be taken to the hospital, his little brother fretting over him. And Yugi’s true Atem is standing in the front room bewildered and raging. Screaming at Kaiba for ripping holes in time and space.

Cue all of them being tasked with combing the city to find all the Yugis and Atems that got scattered across Domino.

Anyway, the whole AU is basically most of the puzzepile gently coaxing DSOD Yugi and his Atem to reconcile, reconnect, and rekindle their relationship. And Yugi being absolutely unwilling to let his real Atem get that close, because he just CANNOT experience that heartbreak again. But it ends up starting with Yugi holding Atem at arms length, not allowing himself to get close again, because he knows Atem will have to leave again and he cannot experience that heartbreak a second time.

They start with a series of small moments that build into bigger moments. Slowly the two of them dismantling walls and rekindling the trust and devotion they once had, but with a romantic element to it now

Meanwhile all this is happening, Yugi bonds with all of the other Yugis and Atems, each of them carving a place in his heart. All of their threads of fate intertwining. Because even across time and space their different incarnations and versions are drawn to each other. A bond that defies even the gods.

[ficsforfundota]

Sci-Fi AU Billy x Mer!Steve w/automaton Max! @stmonstercalendar

Rating - G

Characters - Billy Hagrove, Steve Harrington, Max Mayfield.

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Billy Hargrove

Read on a03 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/65716291

Read Below The Line!

Comment to be tagged when I post <3

Billy checked the device around his wrist, another job was coming in. His brows furrowed as he read over the communication.

Another order for the intergalactic zoo.

He had done a few jobs for them previously, but rarely did he do jobs for the zoo at this scale. He let out a soft sigh and hit the accept button. The amount of stellar chips he was getting for this job would pay for a year's worth of meals and maintenance of his ship.

He would need to go to guandrant twelve of the galaxy, multiple of the planets there were inhabited by mer creatures and were 98% water over land mass. His ship could convert itself into a submarine which included a capture mechanism.

Checking the dashboard he punched in the coordinates for the planet Coralia and eased into the captain's chair. His automaton partner beeped and whirred as it sat at his right. “Ready Max?”

The child-like automaton nodded, fake red curls rolled down her back. She looked like a cyborg and many planet goers assumed she was alive, which made getting more rations easier. A child, or something that looked like a child, was great for conning the masses.

“They continue to order from you,” she noted, “by my calculations this is their thirty-eighth order from you alone.”

“They know I can get the job done.” Billy muttered. “I’ve always been on time or early and they enjoy the discretion.”

Max only nodded, her blue eyes scanning the window taking in all the information. All in all Max was his sister, she was a special kind of android that learned with every interaction. While she had a set amount of knowledge and could ‘speak’ many languages her primary duty was to be a companion. She could have a real conversation and sometimes Billy forgot she was nothing more than bolts and wire.

“We will be there in an hour,” she noted as her eyes darted between stars and space matter. “Do they want a mer with a fish lower half or a fish top half?”

“From the order it looks like top half human, lower half fish. They’re usually prettier, more fun to look at. For a zoo at least. Out of all the beasts I have captured, none have ever been humanoid…”

Max cocked her head. “You look upset.”

Billy shook his head. “I’m not upset, just not sure how to feel about it I guess…”

Max closed her eyes for a moment, calibrating more information she had learned about her ‘brother’. “Is it because it can talk to you when you catch it?”

“Maybe… Not sure yet, never done it before.”

Max nodded, she bent her elbow and a key began to slide out from the silicone she twisted her arm once the key was inserted into the dashboard. “The coordinates are locked in, you can rest if you need.”

“Thanks Max, but I’m okay. I do need to eat though.”

She watched him as he left the cockpit, humans and their need to satiate their needs. She felt the design of humans was subpar at best but she would never tell him that. They were as close as a human and an automaton could be, thanks to her motherboard she was more ‘human’ with emotions and thoughts to a degree. She still had no need for sleep or food, though an oil change was nice every once in a while.

She sat back in her charging port and watched the galaxy zoom past, planets and asteroids, stars and fellow cargo ships. Billy returned, wiping his mouth of his meal. “We almost there?”

“We should be descending shortly, the ship will transform as it hits the water. I would put the belt on.”

Billy laughed and did as she suggested, he knew very well she was programmed to care for him but he liked to think she did care for him on her own accord as well. The ship began to descend, he gripped the seat, his nails digging into the leather.

“Ngh…”

“It’s okay Billy.” She placed her hand on his shoulder softly. Billy smirked at her, the ship began to creak and make noise as it attempted to change itself from flying cargo ship to a submarine. Max watched as the galaxy disappeared and the world came into view. Blue green water covered the mass of this world.

Billy’s eyes rounded as they began to descend, beautiful coral and aquatic creatures came into view. Max was taking it all in, attempting to get a clear picture of the species that she could see to add to her log.

“Alright the first mer we see, unless it is clearly injured, we catch it.”

“I will enable my heat sensors.”

Billy looked her over with a soft smile, he looked back over his instructions to make sure there weren't any specifications for the mer before turning back to the controls. He took control of the ship, taking it off auto and began to search.

Ever since he was a young child he had been interested in the creatures and humanoids of the galaxy, he had wanted to go to a good school to learn more about them but he had learned early on his family was low on credits and schools didn’t want ‘asteroid trash’. So he took up smuggling.

“I believe we have found some,” Max said softly as she pointed forward. Billy squinted while trying to look towards where she had pointed. He ruffled her synthetic hair with a smile.

“Good job Maxie, it looks like a group.”

Max smiled, Billy maneuvered the ship forward. It cleanly sliced through the water like a large whale. The mers began to scatter as a large net arm jutted outward and attempted to catch one.

Max watched, her eyes taking in all the information they could as she watched bright and dull colored tails flash in color. “They seem agitated.”

“They don’t want to be separated from one another, but it is needed. We need the credits.” Billy sighed as he continued to click buttons in order to capture a mer. “Max, make sure the tank is full of water, we need to keep it in the same water temperature so it doesn’t die.”

Max got up, her body made a faint metallic ticking noise if you weren’t looking out for it, you would never notice the sound. She got to work, punching buttons and waiting. The sound of water filling a large glass tank filled the sound of the ship. “The tank is full, ready and waiting for the specimen.”

Billy grinned, his eyes locked on one mer with beautiful mint green scales, a nice toned upper body and gorgeous milk chocolate brown hair. Billy honestly thought he was one of the prettiest men he had seen in all the galaxy, sucked that he was half fish. He did know however if he was going to want to stare at a mer everyday, that was the mer he would want to watch.

He leaned forward, biting his lower lip and furrowed his brow as he used the net in an attempt to catch the gorgeous mer.

The net tangled around the mers fluke and tail. Billy punched the air in excitement. “There we go, okay it should place him in the tank and we can head back to the intergalactic zoo.”

Max nodded, she smiled big, her gears shifting as she turned to watch as the mer was inserted into the tank. The mer panicked, his fists slamming against the glass in terror. His tail wrapping around himself.

“He is very pretty, from my understanding of their species he is a more beautiful one of their species.” She smiled and grew closer to the tank.

The mer sank to the bottom of the tank, pulling their tail into their chest.. “Please…”

“Oh, I can understand your dialect.” Billy grinned. “Look this isn’t anything personal, I need the credits and you’re the best one of the lot.”

The merman cocked his head, before dropping his head against his tail. Billy felt somewhat bad, this was the first time he had captured something that could speak back to him without Max helping bridge the conversation and the first time they looked so similar to himself.

Billy bit his lip as he began to punch in the intergalactic zoos coordinates. Max was watching the mer with curiosity, she was trying to take in as much knowledge as she could get from the nervous mer. His scales were slightly glowing, his hands were shaking slightly as he moved with the ship. Each turn caused the water to slosh which caused him to the do the same.

Billy looked back at him as he whined. “Pl-please.. Please put me back.”

“I’m sorry fish, I can’t.”

“I’m not a fish.”

“What’s your name?” Max asked. “Do you have a name?”

“Little girl please… Let me go….”

“What’s your name?”

“Max don’t talk to him.” Billy tried to shush her.

“It’s Steve,” the mer grew as close to the glass as he could, “please let me go.”

Max turned towards Billy. “Why should I not speak to him?”

“You’ll get attached.”

“I cannot get attached, he is not in my system to become attached to him.”

Billy snorted and ruffled her hair. “I will get attached. I was projecting.”

“Oh, are you lonely for a human companion? I noticed your cheeks flushed and your temperature rose when you saw him.”

Billy rolled his eyes at her, trying to hide his face from her. She knew too much and that was a bit of an issue.

He sighed as he looked back at the mer who was swimming back and forth in panic. Billy got up and grew close to the tank. He placed his hand on it and the mer did the same mirroring him.

“It’s alright, you’re going to be well taken care of. I know that much… I’ll come and visit you….”

“I want to go home.”

“I know.. I just… I need the credits and I don’t think I could part with you now…” He sighed, looking the mer over with uncertainty. Max was working on steering while Billy contemplated what to do with the mer. He was gorgeous, and he needed the money, but he was starting to let his conscience get in the way.

Steve looked towards the open windshield. His home became smaller and smaller as they got further and further away. He thrashed his tail back and forth which only caused the water to slosh around him more. He turned and sighed, lowering back to the bottom of the tank, tears hidden by the water around him.

“Look, it won’t be too bad….”

Steve looked up at him, his lip jutting out. Billy groaned, he needed those damn credits but that mer was pretty and it was starting to mess with his head. “Max turn the damn ship around, I’ll find another way to earn those credits. We can always get a less humanoid mer, I can say I was confused….”

Steve lifted his head up in excitement, Max punched more coordinates in and the ship began to descend once again. They hovered above the ocean, Billy popped the tank and allowed him out. Steve dove under the waves before returning with a handful of gorgeous shells. “These are worth a lot to us, they may help you.”

Billy’s eyes widened. “Wh-what. I was going to sell you.”

“You put me back..” Steve leaned up and kissed Billy softly. “You could make this world your home… There may be a lot of water, but there are land masses.”

Max and Billy looked between one another, they could make this place work. Even if it was just temporary. “Max, how much would these sell for?”

Max scanned the shells. “More credits than he would sell for,” she smiled.

“You’ve got a deal, pretty mer.”

The mer dove back under the water before returning with a fish, before stealing another soft kiss. He was just glad to be safe and returned home, it helped that this human was very handsome.

Max mapped out a good place to set up their base, and Billy noted all the things he wanted to know about the mer named Steve. He could take the loss of the intergalactic zoo credits if it meant he would get to see him everyday.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

We Were Born to Be National Treasures

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 5

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

5.2k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of alcohol, lots of exposition, Roy is kind of a dummy

See if you can spot a little reference to @agentstarkid and her lovely story The Joker & The Queen!

The night before the fundraiser, Roy found himself again at the Crown and Anchor, throwing darts under the watchful eye of Mae and the patrons of the pub. He was hyper aware of his own behavior, noting every little touch and smile exchanged. He pondered how rehearsed her flirtatious actions were, wondering how she acted on real dates with real boyfriends. Did she smirk at them the way she did at Roy when his dart missed the target? Did she touch their arm when she giggled at their lame stories, the way she did after Roy told her all about the stupid things his players had done? Did she playfully steal sips of their beer when hers was empty, leaving little red lipstick stains on the rim? Did she always act this way, or was this all for the benefit of the camera phones snapping pictures in the corner of the pub?

 Maybe Keeley was right, Roy thought as he contemplated the lipstick mark on his pint. Maybe he just needed to get that first kiss done and over with-

“-and Isaac and Colin,” his companion was saying, completely unaware of Roy’s distracted overthinking. “Oh, and Jamie said something about singing that ‘I’m Too Sexy’ song. That should be pretty fun,” she snickered. She tossed another dart, landing just outside the bullseye. “I think he should sing towards the end of the night, once he’s completely plastered. There’s a good chance his shirt might even come off. What d’you think?”

Roy frowned and picked up another dart, twirling it between his fingers. “You talked to Jamie?” he said simply, eyebrows furrowed.

She nodded and picked up his beer, stealing another sip. “At dinner the other night, when I invited the guys to the party. You were right next to me Kent,” she sighed.

Oh. Right. Roy had been at her side; but Keeley had been across from him, so he barely heard a word of the guys’ excitement at being invited to the fundraiser.

Instead of admitting that he hadn’t paid attention, Roy simply nodded and prepared to throw his dart. “Right,” he mumbled; his dart landed embarrassingly far from the center. “Well, if I’m your date to this thing, I guess it’d be nice to know what you’re raising funds for. What’s your nonprofit do?”

She kept her eyes coolly on the dartboard as she blew some hair out of her face, preparing to take her turn. “So, I told you my parents are from Mexico, right?” Roy’s grunt let her know he remembered. “Well, my mom was a little girl when her family came, and my dad was a teenager by himself. They both worked so hard to learn English, and they wanted us to have the benefits of both languages.” She smiled- a large, glowing smile- and threw her dart, hitting the target. “So, we read a lot. Played Scrabble and other word games. Watched movies in both languages. But my favorite thing they did was fill our house with music. In both languages.”

“Hence your career,” Roy teased, collecting the darts.

“Exactly,” she chuckled as she accepted a dart from him. “They just really wanted us to have a deep appreciation for both English and Spanish. That’s what inspired the Cicada Foundation. We support literacy programs, particularly for immigrants, we donate books to schools and libraries in need, we raise awareness about literacy challenges. I’m always looking for new things to contribute to.” She again stole a sip of Roy’s beer, too engrossed in gushing to notice the way he was watching her. “Like I really want to look into starting a scholarship program and grants for classrooms.” She stopped, finally looking at Roy. “So… that’s what we do.”

Roy nodded, processing what he’d just heard. “And why the fuck did you name it the Cicada Foundation?” Shit, he hoped that didn’t come off as rude as it sounded; he really needed to work on his tone.

Her lingering grin assured him he was fine. “Well, one of the singers they used to play a lot of was Linda Ronstadt,” she explained slowly, waving as Mae brought them another round. “She was… something. She sang country, rock, anything. And she sang in Spanish, too. She had this great album of all mariachi music that we used to play all the time. And my dad’s favorite was called ‘La Cigarra’, which means ‘The Cicada’.” She sipped her pint, eyes never leaving Roy’s. “She’s kind of my hero.” Suddenly, she cleared her throat, focusing back on the dartboard. “Sorry. That’s probably more than you wanted to hear.

Roy shook his head. “No, no,” he quickly assured her. “It’s actually fucking interesting, trust me.” He paused, the wheels in his mind turning. “My ticket. For this thing tomorrow. How much is it?”

Now it was her turn to shake her head. “You’re my guest,” she murmured. “You don’t need to pay shit.”

“But it’s for your charity.”

The chuckle she let out was awkward, something he hadn’t seen on her yet. “My boyfriends don’t pay for their ticket.” After a moment, she quickly added. “Like I said, you’re my guest. You’re good.”

Roy’s frown hardened. “Fine. Just let me know where to send my check, then. You can at least let me make a fucking donation.” Something in her face trembled, earning a sigh from Roy. “What’d I do wrong now?”

“Nothing.” She let out a small laugh and picked up a new dart. “I just… I don’t think any of my real boyfriends ever made a donation.” She looked up at Roy with the tiniest of smiles, one tinted by a hint of sadness. “But thank you, Kent. That’s very nice of you.”

“Yeah,” Roy mumbled, trying to focus his attention back on their dart game. “Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got shit taste in men by the way?”

Her laugh was wry and full; Roy kind of liked it. “Only all my Instagram followers.”

“Yeah, well.” Roy smirked at her, fully aware of the phones pointed in their direction. “Guess I’ll have to prove them wrong.”

~

I glanced across the backseat at Roy. As if they expected us to do otherwise, both Keeley and Lanie had explicitly instructed us to arrive together; to be fair to them, I wouldn’t put it past us to try taking separate cars. Instead, we sat next to each other in the back of the luxury car.

As if he could feel my gaze, his eyes met mine, looking just as tense as I felt. “Oi,” he grunted quietly. “Can I ask something?”

“Sure.”

I must have imagined his eyes flickering to my mouth for a fraction of a second. “This being our… debut-” He rolled his eyes at the word Keeley and Lanie kept using. “-d’you think we’ve got to… you fucking know.”

This time, there was no doubt where his eyes landed.

“Oh.”

Shit, shit, shit. Of all the things I’d thought about with this fake relationship, how had I not planned on kissing Roy Kent? Really kissing him? Not that casual, flirty, on-the-cheek thing I’d been doing, but a real lip lock, the kind a woman silly with love would readily give a man like him, with his leather jacket and brown eyes. And for whatever ridiculous reason, my face was burning at the idea.

“Guess we’ll have to,” I mumbled, eying the driver; even with the partition up, I was wary of being overheard.

Roy nodded, clearing his throat gruffly. “D’you think… our first time should be in… public?” His eyes met mine in a flash. “Or… not?”

It was clear what he was asking, just as it was clear that he wasn’t asking out of any sort of desire or attraction. He was asking out of professionalism, the same professionalism that I clung to just as much. It was that professionalism that kept me from rolling my eyes at how incredibly lame we both sounded, whispering about kissing in the back of a car, as though we were teenagers being driven to a dance by a parent.

“Not’s probably better,” I murmured, fighting the urge to stare at his expletive-loving mouth. “Just in case it’s… weird.”

“Yeah.” Roy leaned towards me, brown eyes not bothering to stay trained on mine. “It’ll probably be fucking weird.”

I closed my eyes, preparing myself for what I knew would be the first of many awkward moments tonight-

The car jerked to a stop; we’d arrived at the venue, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or annoyed to be interrupted.

Roy definitely looked annoyed as he leaned back, shifting his gaze away from me. “Well,” he coughed, rolling his eyes. “Let’s fucking go, then.” With one of those heaving sighs, he opened his door and stepped out; immediately I could hear shouts and cheers. There was a look of unease in his eyes, underneath all that harshness, as he reached back into the car, extending his hand to me. “Ready?”

Rather than answer with words, I simply took his hand and allowed him to help me out of the car, plastering on my best smile as I was almost immediately blinded by the flashing lights of cameras. Roy gave a small nod, offering to let me take the lead. Keeley had warned me; apparently Roy hated this kind of thing. Part of the reason she wanted him to ‘date’ me, she had explained, was to improve his abilities in front of the cameras.

I could practically feel his awkwardness radiating off of him as we paused in front of the crowd of photographers. When I glanced up at him, I saw him staring straight ahead with the stoniest expression I’d seen yet. So much for looking like a man in love.

“Oi, Kent,” I hissed. He glanced down at me, thick eyebrow raised, as though his frown could hide the unease in his eyes. “Focus on me,” I whispered.

He furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Focus on me,” I repeated, offering a small smile. “You’re supposed to be in love with me, remember? You can look at me instead of them. Everyone will just think you’re smitten as hell.” I let go of his hand in favor of wrapping my arm around his waist. “Sound good?”

His body almost immediately softened against mine as his own hand found my lower back. “Yeah. Sounds like a plan.”

As soon as we stepped in front of the cameras, we were mobbed with shouts of our names and a bombardment of questions. Everything from how we met, to how long we’d been together, to whether I’d written anything about Roy yet. I simply gave my brightest smile, the one I’d worked years on perfecting, and posed with Roy at my side. When I glanced up, sure enough, Roy was gazing down at me, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

“You’re a fucking natural at this shit,” he mumbled in my ear. “How the hell d’you do it?”

I chuckled, pretending he’d said something funny; these photos would actually be kind of cute, I realized. “You learn to stop caring,” I answered, hoping my expression was affectionate enough. “They’re going to see what they want to see, so you might as well let go and just have fun.”

Roy’s smile grew as we continued down the carpet. “And here I thought you had trained for years to do this kind of thing.”

“Trust me,” I answered, offering a wave to the cameras. “I’ve been doing this since I was eighteen. I have trained for years for this.”

~

Roy frowned as he stood at the edge of the carpet, watching her giggle with reporters and smile for photographers. After posing for a few photos together, she released him to go wait at the end of the carpet so she could have some solo time to gush about her foundation and the event. Well, she’d actually encouraged him to head on inside and told him not to worry about waiting for her, but he couldn’t help but watch her. Her ease with the cameras in her face, her amiability in response to questions that were more about her private life than her fundraising efforts, even the way she shot smiles in his direction, knowing that every camera was catching the supposedly natural way she beamed at him.

She was good at this, this game. Maybe she really was cleverer than Roy gave her credit for.

“You waited for me,” she teased once she reached him, eyebrows raised. “Would’ve thought you’d already be at the bar with a drink in your hand.”

“Gotta be the doting boyfriend, right?” he replied, wrapping his arm casually around her shoulder, the way he used to do when walking around Nelson Road with Keeley. “Doing the job.”

She nodded as they entered the venue. “Doing the job,” she repeated.

The venue- a club- was exactly the kind of thing Roy hated: dark, crowded, loud. Instinctively, he tightened his grasp on her shoulder, as if she’d keep him anchored. If she minded, she didn’t show it; instead, she nudged him with her hip and nodded towards the bar.

“Let’s get you a drink,” she called over the music.

Roy couldn’t help watching the way she maneuvered around the crowd; despite having an obvious target in mind, she still managed to greet people, flashing smiles that looked genuine, as if she was truly happy to see people who’d paid a ridiculous amount of money for the opportunity to sing off-key with one of the most popular singers in the world. Fucking hell, she was sure of herself- or at least knew how to act like she was. Maybe he really could learn a thing or two from this woman.

They had barely approached the bar when the bartender was asking for their order; of course she never had to wait for a bartender, Roy thought to himself. She quickly called out drink orders: Roy’s usual beer, and something fruity for herself. Before Roy could thank her for remembering his beer, she lit up at someone over his shoulder.

“Hey you guys!” she squealed.

A gorgeous couple breezed past Roy to hug her; Roy stared at them, wondering where he knew their faces from. After being doted on by the couple, she turned to smile at Roy, that same smile she always had for him when other people were around.

“Roy, these are my dear friends Becky and Ricky.” She wrapped her arm around Roy’s middle, giving a playful squeeze. “This is Roy,” she giggled.

Becky and Ricky. Oh. Okay, Roy knew them now. She was an actress, from Paraguay if he remembered correctly, and he was a professional racer. They were regularly on the cover of tabloids, always for how ‘relatable’ they were and never for drama. And, apparently, for being best friends with her.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Roy managed, shaking Ricky’s hand.

“Great to finally meet you,” Becky giggled. “You and our girl have made quite a splash, you know that?” She offered a friendly wink. “It looks like you make her happy so far, so we’ll forgive her for not telling us about you right away.”

A now-familiar chuckle reached Roy’s ears. “Yeah, yeah,” his ‘girlfriend’ said. “Like you told me about Rick right away.” She beamed up at Roy, the picture of a woman in love. “I think I see some Greyhounds. Should we go say hi before I have to go onstage?”

Roy grumbled something agreeable before waving to the power couple, who promised to chat more later. “They seem nice,” he muttered, taking her hand as she led him across the club.

“They’re the absolute best,” she assured him. “Becky was honestly kind of pissed that I didn’t tell her about you sooner. I usually tell her about guys right away but… you know.”

“Yeah.” Roy cleared his throat as Jamie waved excitedly at them. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

After she greeted the Greyhounds with hugs and kisses on cheeks, she turned to Roy, touching his hand gently. “I have to head onstage,” she explained in his ear, her breath warm and tickling. “But enjoy yourself, alright, Kent? I’ll check in with you in a bit.” She kissed his cheek, lingering for a moment before walking away. It seemed so natural when she did it; damn, he’d have to ask her for advice on this whole acting thing, because she was pretty fucking good.

He stood beside Jamie- who was chattering animatedly in the ear of her assistant, April- and watched as she took the stage. She gushed over the guests, thanking them for coming and supporting the Cicada Foundation, explaining how special it was to her. She managed to find Roy’s eyes in the crowd and blew him a kiss, prompting shouts and whistles from his team; he managed to make himself smile back, his ears burning at the attention.

“Alright,” she announced to the crowd. “Let’s get this party started!” With a nod to the DJ, an upbeat tune filled the club.

“‘Material Girl’, that’s a fun one!” Keeley had appeared at Roy’s side, beaming up at the manager. “She looks great up there, doesn’t she?”

Roy gazed down at Keeley, the tension in his shoulders disappearing at once. “Yeah, great.” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

Keeley nodded, her eyes back on the singer. “She invited me. She’s real sweet, yeah? Plus, it probably looks good on her, being friendly with your ex. Especially with the stuff going down with her last boyfriend.” She glanced back at Roy. “She’s a smart one, your girlfriend.”

“Please don’t call her that,” Roy mumbled, clutching his beer and forcing himself to look up at the stage. “It’s fucking weird.”

All Keeley did was giggle and nudge Roy. “Yeah, yeah. Just watch your girlfriend, Kent.”

And so Roy did. He watched her move her hips and smile into the microphone and interact with the crowd. He watched her jump around, reminding him of the way Phoebe danced around… to, well, her music. She looked happy, free. It was almost enough to have him looking forward to watching her on her anticipated tour.

Almost.

~

It was utterly bizarre, hanging out with Roy like this. Yes, we’d had a few “dates”, mostly in parks or at the Crown and Anchor. Sure, we sat next to each other when grabbing a bite with the Greyhounds after a match. And yeah, we’d had exactly one sleepover that somehow didn’t involve any arguments.

But this was different. We were officially “boyfriend-girlfriend”, and we were definitely acting like it. He kept a firm grip on me no matter where in the club we went, and any time he spoke to me, it was a whisper in my ear, even if all he was doing was mumbling a question about where the restrooms were. Of course, I made sure to do my part, giggling over him and kissing his scruff adoringly.

Honestly, it was kind of sickening how sweet we were. Was this really what I looked like when I was genuinely in love with a guy? If so, I owed every single one of my friends an apology for subjecting them to such nauseating displays.

“Alright, my turn’s coming up,” Roy announced in the middle of a conversation with Jamie and April, who’d spent nearly the whole night by each other’s side. He handed me his beer and planted a kiss to the top of my head. “Don’t you fucking dare record this,” he growled.

“Don’t need to,” I answered, taking a swig of his drink. “Livestream, remember?”

Roy rolled his eyes and disappeared, leaving me with a smirking April.

“You two seem to be having fun,” she said, her voice full of teasing. “You look very natural together.”

My gaze shifted to Jamie for a brief moment before I narrowed my eyes at her. “Of course we do,” I hissed pointedly. “We’ve been seeing each other for nearly a month now. I would think we’d be comfortable together.”

Suddenly interested in the conversation, Jamie leaned forward. “You make a handsome couple,” he called over his other coach, Beard, finishing up a rendition of a David Bowie song. “Swear, I don’t remember the last time I saw Grandad look at someone the way he looks at you. And you should’ve heard him when he thought I was interested in ya, he went full caveman on me.”

Before I could ask Jamie what the hell he was talking about, the rest of the Greyhounds erupted in cheers and wolf-whistles; Roy had taken the stage.

“What song is he doing?” April asked, a genuine question.

I shook my head, eyes trained on Roy, who looked almost… bashful. “He didn’t tell me.” Just as I was about to suggest what he might be singing, a very familiar, twangy, cutesy tune hit my ears and painted my face a deep red. “He’s not doing this,” I gasped.

His blush was visible even from the stage as he stared at the words on screen. “I was riding shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car…”

I couldn’t help but cover my face with my hands. It was too adorable, my “boyfriend” singing my song. In all the years I’d even doing this event, only a couple of boyfriends had ever gone onstage; none of them had even considered doing one of my songs. It was too bad Roy was doing this all for show; this was the kind of gesture a girl could fall in love with.

His voice was its usual growling, gruff self, contrasting adorably with the juvenile words of my very first radio hit. What was most unbelievable, though, was the smile on Roy’s bearded face. He laughed and rolled his eyes playfully as he sang, not at all bothered by how young and girlish the lyrics were. It was a bit surprising; Roy Kent struck me as the kind of guy who cared about looking tough and masculine all the time, the kind of guy who wouldn’t be caught dead singing what a Buzzfeed writer once called “brainless girlie pop”. But there he was, grinning and singing the song I’d written when I was sixteen.

Just as I was letting myself relax and enjoy his weirdly sweet performance, my heart dropped to my stomach. Oh, shit. I grabbed April’s arm and pulled her close, hoping that I looked like a giggly, gossipy girl rather than the panicked woman I suddenly became.

“I have to kiss him.”

April’s eyes widened as she shifted her gaze between me and Roy. “You do?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “I mean, he’s singing my fucking song,” I hissed. “If we were actually dating, there’d be no question.” I fought back a grimace and took a deep breath. “Right?”

I didn’t need to ask April; I knew it was true. Just like I knew this moment was already trending on Twitter, and that my reaction to it would be all over TikTok, ready to be analyzed by teenage girls and adults with too much time on their hands. If I didn’t have the right reaction, this whole operation would be over right as it really began. And I’d be the psycho who finagled a sports legend into a fake relationship.

Nope. No way I could let that happen.

“I’ve heard every album, listened to the radio, waited for something to come along that was as good as our song.”

Roy locked eyes with me as I made my way towards the stage, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d have sworn his smile widened. In turn, I plastered on my favorite smile, the flattered one that was just a bit shy, the one I usually reserved for high praise or invasive questions about my love life. The kind I would definitely wear if a guy did this and meant it.

All I could do as he reached the last chorus was keep smiling and hope that he wouldn’t be taken aback by the kiss. He was willing in the car; surely, he knew I’d have to kiss him now. He was Roy Kent, after all. He’d been in high-profile relationships and engaged in public displays of affection. There was no way he thought he could get out of this night unkissed.

“… I grabbed a pen and an old napkin and I wrote down our song.”

The club erupted into cheers, especially the Greyhounds, as Roy took a stiff little bow and replaced the microphone. As expected, he made a beeline for me, his smile suddenly replaced with bashfulness. I didn’t give him a chance to say or do anything; instead, I grabbed his face and brought his lips straight to mine.

~

It took Roy a fraction of a second to comprehend the feeling of her lips against his. They were soft. Warm. Inviting. Exactly how Roy thought they’d be on those rare occasions where he’d allowed himself to wonder about actually kissing her. Instinctively, he grabbed her hips and tugged her flush against his chest, letting her take the lead on the kiss.

Fuck, if it wasn’t a good one.

It was just chaste enough for a public setting, but deep and slow enough to show comfort and familiarity with each other. And even though she kept her tongue to herself, he could definitely taste her drink. Something cool and refreshing, just like her.

He probably would’ve gone on kissing her if she didn’t pull back, flashing him that megawatt smile of hers. She tugged him close, as if hugging him tight, and murmured in his ear, “Damn, Kent. You’re really trying to trend online, huh?”

Roy nodded, clearing his throat and coming back down to earth. “Good song choice?” he asked, hoping Phoebe’s suggestion had the intended effect.

She nodded, her smile almost lovely enough to look real. “Great song choice.” She pulled him into a hug- a warm, friendly one this time- before gazing up at him. “Should we grab a drink?”

“Yeah.” He reached down and grabbed her hand, amazed by how automatically he’d been doing that all night. “Let’s grab a fucking drink.”

They were glued to each other’s sides, sipping drinks and holding hands, smiling at each other like moony-eyed teenagers. Roy was almost proud of himself for his ability to pretend to be head-over-heels for this woman who, up until recently, he found annoying. Maybe it was their budding friendship, he reasoned as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close so they could sway to the music together. That was it. He considered her almost a friend now; surely that was making pretending to be attracted to her a bit easier.

As they stood near her friends Becky and Ricky and listened to Jamie drunkenly sing an Olivia Rodrigo song, April scurried up and whispered in her ear. With a nod, she turned to Roy and handed him her drink.

“Showtime,” she announced, planting a quick kiss to his lips. A quick, casual, natural kiss. Fuck, how many kisses would it take for him to get used to it?

He was still pondering that as he watched her ascend the stage, guitar in hand. The whole room cheered and hollered for her, applause she accepted with gracious smiles and kisses blown into the crowd. She approached the microphone; her deep exhale could be heard over all the speakers.

“This is my favorite part of the evening,” she mused into the mic. “Where I get to share with you all. This song has been a long time coming- I started working on it when I was twenty-two years old, and over the years I’ve gone back to it and played with it, but I’ve always been too scared to share it. But I had a couple conversations recently-” Roy swore her eyes found his. “-that made me realize that maybe some other people feel this same way. That maybe some of you need this song too.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

They tell you while you’re young

“Girls go out and have your fun”

Then they hunt and slay the ones who actually do it

Roy’s chest was tight as he listened to her, so soft and vulnerable. Her voice sounded strong and sure, contrasting beautifully with the insecurity of her lyrics. He only tore his gaze away for a moment to take in the faces of the people around him; their faces were filled with wistfulness and sadness, maybe a little pity, and some held looks of self-reflection. Roy wondered if his face looked the same; it probably did, he decided.

And will you still want me

Will you still want me

Will you still want me

When I'm nothing new?

Roy was the first person to clap his hands together, but he was immediately joined by every other person in the room. Applause quickly became cheers and a standing ovation; onstage, she beamed and wiped her eyes.

“Thank you,” she managed to hum into the microphone. “That was Nothing New, and it is on sale and streaming now. All proceeds go to the Cicada Foundation.” She gave a small, breathless laugh. “Thank you to everyone who tuned in to watch our karaoke show. You have no idea how much your support means to me and everyone at Cicada.” She gave a small wave. “Thank you, and good night!”

She practically skipped offstage, handed her guitar to a waiting April, and made her way over to Roy. Now it was his turn to grab her and pull her into a hug; deciding to really put on a show, he lifted her off her feet and swung her in a small circle.

“That was fucking brilliant,” he huffed, setting her down but keeping his arms wrapped around her. “That song is something fucking special, you know that? I’m fucking proud of you.”

She beamed up at him, pleasant surprise playing in her eyes. “Thanks, Kent.”

Knowing that countless eyes were on them, Roy dipped down and pressed his lips to hers carefully, maybe even a little timidly. The way her fingers brushed gently through his hair assured him he was fine, so he deepened the kiss, pulling her close. He was kind of amazed at how quickly they had become accustomed to kissing each other, to letting their lips glide past each other softly. It was the way the public expected a superstar and football legend to kiss, he decided. The way two people in love should kiss.

The way he and Keeley used to kiss.

He shoved those thoughts aside for the rest of the night while the karaoke party transformed into a regular party. He danced with her, closer than he had the first night, and pressed soft kisses to her forehead between songs. Be sweet with her, Keeley had suggested to him as they chatted the day before. All romantic and tender. I know you know how to be that way.

And so he was, for the rest of the night. And she accepted all his affection with smiles and kisses of her own. They were convincing enough to trick every single person at the party; and if Roy didn’t know any better, they would have tricked him too.

~

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas@eugene-emt-roe@littleesilvia@teenwolf01@sisinever@yagotgames@queen-of-the-downtown-scene@emmaallisonann@mrdsturd@confessionsofatotaldramaslut @charkachow @mrdsturd

[rooks-dagger]

OC: Ember "Rook" Mercar

Thanks @dancing--lights for tagging me! This was a blast to fill out. PS - I loved learning more about your Rook 🤩

GENERAL:

Name: Ember Mercar

Alias: Rook, Em, Trouble (by Neve)

Gender: Female

Age: 30-31 (her best guess)

Spoken Language: Common, Tevene, and a few Elvish swear words and phrases

Sexual Orientation: Lesbian

Occupation: Gladiator turned freedom fighter, consultant to the Gallus & Savas Detective Agency, and leader of the Veilguard

FAVORITE:

Color: Tevinter red and Veilguard purple

Entertainment: Live music at the Swan or Lamplighter, listening to Bellara and Neve discuss their latest serial (Rook doesn’t even read them, it’s way more fun to hear the mages retell it), and catching a fight at the Hall of Valor.

Pastime: Training, sparring, weapon/tool maintenance, fighting in the Hall of Valor, darts, dice, Wicked Grace, and - to the surprise of many - dancing.

Food: She’ll eat anything. But she admits Neve got her hooked on Hal’s fish.

Drink: Coffee (she can drink Neve’s sludge, but much prefers the Antivan coffee Lucanis makes). Rook also enjoys a good whiskey… but she’ll take a bad one too lol.

HAVE THEY...

Passed University: No. Rook is a Soporati elf and, in my backstory, she was raised as a slave and gladiator. So, she was trained in combat but had little in the way of formal education. She learned how to read and write once she joined the Shadow Dragons (I imagine they have some sort of program for freed slaves!)

Had Sex: Sure. She had a couple of short-term, casual relationships prior to the game. 

Had Sex in Public: Let’s go with yes. She had a few trysts in the back alleys and storerooms of taverns when she was celebrating her newfound freedom.

Gotten Tattoos: She got a few Shadow Dragon tattoos as a way to cover her old gladiator brands and declare her loyalty to the faction.

Gotten Piercings: None

Gotten Scarred: A bunch! But she wears them proudly. She’s got lash marks on her back and various scars cutting across her torso, arms, and legs from her time as a gladiator. Plus, a deep gash across her left eye. That’s newer.

Had a Broken Heart: Alas, yes. The one that hurt most was a “friend breakup” with a fellow gladiator, though.

ARE THEY:

A Cuddler: Rook is (happily) a chronic big spoon and perpetual arm/head rest. She loves holding her loved ones close.

Scared Easily: Not at all. She’s pretty tough to scare or even startle. She’s seen and dealt with a lot of wild shit, so her tolerance is high. It maaaay skew her idea of “real danger”... But it’s probably fine lol.

Jealous Easily: Not really. At most she’ll get baited into some dumb competitions (arm wrestling, darts, etc.) with the perceived rival and try to show off for her partner. It has a varying success rate of impressing (vs exasperating) Neve.

Trustworthy: For sure. Rook can be impulsive and reckless, but she’s fiercely loyal and takes her promises seriously. Once you’re in her inner circle, she’s in your corner come hell or high water. 

FAMILY:

Siblings: Unknown/none.  

Parents: Unknown/none. Ok, so I just ignored the Mercar family backstory when creating my Rook lol. My Rook grew up as an enslaved elf and was sold to a Venatori-run gladiator school in Ventus. She learned to fight in the arena. She led a mini Spartacus-style revolt, escaped to Dock Town, and joined up with the Shadow Dragons. Closest thing she has to a parent is Lorelai, who took the newly recruited Rook under her wing. They had a lot in common.

Children: Nah. She never had the desire to have kids and her lifestyle isn’t a good fit. But she and Neve are like the cool aunts of the Dock Town street kids (as well as Assan and Manfred).

Pets: Not officially. But she has a few stray cats and dogs she feeds on the regular. 

----

Thanks for listening to me yap about my Rook! ☺️

Absolutely no pressure to play - but if you’re down, I’d love to hear about your Rooks, too! @thepoetskettle @jouskaroo @augustnugs @ladysashasworld

[seeds-and-sins]

Light My Fire - Part Four

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, mentions of depression and death)

Description: During incarceration, you come across a special boy. Years later, memories are brought to the forefront that you don't recall ever existing.

Tagged: @tonixe, @chernayawidow, @mrsjenniferwinchester, @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites @ophennie, @virgoelf-blog, @my-obsession-spn

Author's Note: I hope this makes up for the lost time. I know it has been a while. More so the fact that I have a lot going on and definitely not the fact that I had this sitting on my laptop for weeks. Please don't hate me. :)

Part Three

You sipped from a cigarette, smoke flowing like a stream from your nostrils. You blankly stared down at the tray in front of you, flicked the excess ashes into the bowl.

"So, would you say you have seen an improvement in your time here?" Your eyes drifted up to the white coat sitting across from you. She had wrinkles all over, beady eyes, cat eye glasses, freshly manicured nails tapping against her clipboard.

You don't even remember why you were here. In this white room, with nothing around you, nothing but a table and two chairs. You had been here for weeks. After each session, they would move you from this room, into another. That other room was also mostly empty; a single bed, an end table with a lamp, a toilet and a sink. Between this room and that one, there was nothing but a hallway of doors. One door after the other, titanium metal doors.

You didn't know where you were, you didn't know why you were here, all you knew was that you weren't thinking about *him* anymore. You didn't want to die anymore. There was a strained calm that blanketed you and it was because of these pills. You were complacent to your situation. And in your eyes, compacency was a better comfort than a struggle. You had been struggling for so long. You wanted to relax. You could relax here. Everything was taken care of for you, everything was what you needed it to be, to clear your mind.

"Sure." You replied in between another drag, smoke wafted in the woman's face, she didn't react. She was used to you. She had been your lab coat since you first arrived here, after Vogelbaum started losing interest at least.

There was one thing to be noted about this room. One thing that you had never realized before, or one thing that had never been there in your previous visits. Your eyes kept darting toward it, fluttering to and fro, like a bug to a flashing lightbulb.

There.

Tucked in the corner, in the far corner of the stark white room...

A tiny red lego.

Through a sea of fog in your mind.

It wouldn't have been noticeable to the average eye from this distance. Not unless the eye was trained. Your eyes weren't average and they didn't need to be trained to see what you saw.

Your immediate explanation:

"Someone didn't do their job." You said outloud, lining a stare directly on the white coat. Her fingers wrapped around her clipboard and her eyebrows furrowed at you.

"I'm sorry?" You rolled your eyes, stamping the cigarette out in the table as you stood. You circled the table and with bare feet, trotted your way over to the miniature piece. You crouched down, pinched it between your fingers and lifted it high. You inspected it with a deepening curiosity, which only grew further when your white coat began to tremble in her red high heels. You focused on her again, extending the lego to her.

"Ya'know, you don't have kids here, do you?" You already knew the answer, so you were definitely patronizing in your tone. Luckily, you had been working on your anger issues these past few weeks; otherwise, you would have blown a fuse.

Kids?!

What the fuck was Vogelbaum thinking?!

What happened to old heroes? Grown adults that worked their asses off to get recognized for a program like this.

In your opinion, heroes shouldn't even be made anymore. The Hero Program should have ended with Soldier Boy. The Hero Program should have ended with Payback.

"My goodness, I have no idea." She feigned a gasp, holding her chest.

That answer didn't suffice.

You flicked the lego piece so hard that it put a dent in the white wall of the room.

"Okay." You looked directly up at the camera. "You want to play it that way?" The calm was gone. So began the rampage. You stormed for the metal door and easily ripped your way through it. The white coat screamed, she began shouting into the collar of her coat.

"HELP! CODE RED!" You made your way down the hallway, starting with the first metal door you came across. You broke through it like butter.

Empty.

You went for the next door, after a few seconds of walking, it was to your right.

Empty.

"Phoenix! Listen closely! Stop this!" Vogelbaum sounded over the intercom.

"Oh yeah?" You broke through the next door.

Empty.

Metal shards were everywhere. You broke through three more doors before Vogelbaum's pleas intensified, you knew you were getting close.

You broke through another door. It was the last one you broke through.

And there...

A child.

You found a blonde haired, blue eyed boy on the other side. He was hunched in the corner, arms held up defensively, but there was no fear in his eyes.

"Phoenix, Go back to your room. Walk away." You ignored Vogelbaum's evenly voiced demands. He sounded completely devoid of the panic he previously expressed. Now there was just stillness. Now there was just calm. Your eyes narrowed on the boy, you stepped forward.

"Hi," You greeted, not certain of what exactly you were looking at. What exactly was happening here? "What's your name, kid?" He was wearing a red, white, and blue stripped shirt and jeans. To any outsider, he appeared to be a normal kid. And despite his living conditions, they weren't terrible living conditions. But no child should be imprisoned, no child should be experimented on.

"John." He said, eyeing you up and down, he stepped from his corner. "What's your name?"

"I don't remember," You replied honestly. "Haven't gone by my real name in decades." You lifted your chin, inspected the room with a quick glance. "People call me Phoenix."

"Why?"

"Because I became something else." You said with confidence, "like fire."

"You're fire?" He squinted at you, "You don't look like fire." You inhaled a deep breath, that was a fair deducation. You crouched down to his level, despite the distance that he stood from you. You lifted your hand in front of you and snapped your fingers, a small flame appeared at the tip where your thumb and pointer convened. The boy's eyes balloned with wonder.

"I'm a special kind of person, kid..." You smiled, dismissing the flame with a swing of your hand and standing up. "I'm betting you're special too."

As you finished your sentence, armed men, dressed in all black, and wearing masks, flooded the hallways on either side of you. You jolted into the room and spun, standing your ground between the boy and the men that soon filled up the entrance. Their guns were trained on you.

"I didn't want it to be like this, Phoenix." Your eyes flashed red, fists balling up at your sides.

"He's just a kid, Vogelbaum."

"He's not yours to worry about."

"I'm not leaving this room without him."

"Maybe he doesn't want to leave." You paused, then glanced over your shoulder at the boy. He seemed unfazed by the events taking place before him, but his wide blue eyes stared up at you expectantly. You cocked your head at him, the red in your eyes faded.

"Where are your parents?" He blinked at you, like he didn't even know what you were talking about. You spun around and crouched in front of him, grabbing his shoulders with your hands. You conpletely ignored the armed men lined up behind you, guns now trained on you and ready to fire. They wouldn't be able to hurt you anyways. "Listen to me, kid, how did you get here?"

"I've always been here." He replied, your eyebrows furrowed, you rubbed his shoulders, not exactly knowing how to react to that response. What you really wanted to do was go find Vogelbaum and shove his head up his ass. A child?! Really? That was some piece of shit scientist bullshit.

Something overwhelmed you in that moment. Something you hadn't felt in years:

Purpose.

This was the reason you were here. This was the reason you had been willingly waiting in that stupid white room, week after week. You were here for this boy.

"Do you want to come with me?" You asked, lips forming a tight lipped smile. John's eyes scanned every inch of your face, you could tell he was trying to figure out if he could trust you.

"Are you my mommy?" You didn't hesitate in your response.

"No." You said firmly, "And I don't know who your mommy is." You sighed, "But I do know that you don't belong in a goddamned box. You're a person, John. You're a very special person-"

"Phoenix-"

"Shut Up, Vogelbaum!" John's head tilted, attention moving between the intercom, the camera in the corner of the room, and then back to you.

"You want to take me with you?"

"Yeah." You stood up, hands still held on his shoulders. "I'll get you out of here. You can see what the real world is like. I'll take care of you." John rushed into you, his arms wravelled around your waist and a gasp escaped you in surprise. You patted him on the back, the strength in the hug increased as he adjusted his arms, but you didn't mind. He was really strong. Strong to the point that if you didn't have powers too, you'd probably be crushed by now. "Vogelbaum..." You cupped the back of John's head and he withdrew enough to look up at you. "I think it's time for me to get back out into the world again." You smiled brightly, and this time it was the first genuine smile you had given in years. "And John is coming too."

...

2022...

"The unexplained explosion at the Chimp Country Sanctuary is now being attributed to a gas leak. At this time, the bodies of countless chimps that were harbored at the sanctuary are being recovered by authorities. Including the body of the beloved hero, Crimson Countess. As you know, she was a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's fiancé. More information-"

"Those goddamned gas leaks..." You muttered under your breath, standing directly in front of the giant flat screen TV with a consterned expression on your face. "You can never trust'em, ya'know. One put me out a while back and I scarcely think I recovered from it." You were talking to no one in particular. You were in a smaller room with a window that spanned one side, giving a quarter view of a city landscape. There was a leather couch behind you, a coffee table in front of you, a bookshelf in the corner. Behind you, an elderly woman with silver hair, who had her back turned to you, was preparing a cup of coffee.

"I'm sorry, dear, what was-" As the elderly woman turned, she gasped and nearly dropped the steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She startled with a jolt, having to cling to the surface of the counter beside her to keep herself steady. "What the fuck, Phoenix..." The woman grumbled through bright red lips. "What happened to your clothes?!"

"I took them off. Helps me think better. Agnes!" You spun around, the woman rolled her eyes and began a slow walk toward you. "I've decided I'm going to be a vegetarian."

"Phoenix, honey..." The woman took her time bending down to put her coffee on the table. She then stepped up to you and placed her hands on your shoulders. "That is wonderful, but you have an interview in ten minutes and you are completely naked."

"Oh, it's no big deal." You waved Agnes away and stepped past her toward the window. "I'll throw my suit on when I'm good and ready."

You had become erratic over the years. Your train of thought was constantly everywhere, thinking everything, all at once. If you weren't keeping yourself busy somehow, you were thinking about things you didn't want to think about and that just wouldn't do. You were thinking about things that never even happened.

Oh no.

Too much thinking.

"Do you think I should be more upset that Countess is dead?" You sighed, Agnes plopped down on the couch in defeat. She had been working with you for the better half of twelve years and she knew you all too well to know that you weren't going to relent. "Like I'm not going to her memorial or anything, but..." You chewed the inside of youf cheek, "I thought I would be more upset."

"I don't know, dear. I really don't know."

Knock. Knock.

An orange head popped into the room, you recognized that it was Ashley, Vought's newest hero executive.

"Hey-" Who entered the room with a chirpy energy about her. "JESUS CHRIST!" There it was. "Why are you naked?!" Ashley cupped the side of her eye and turned her head away, clutching her clipboard like a vice to her chest.

"What's wrong, Ashley? See something you like?" You purred, leaning your shoulder into the window. "Urgh. You guys are so boring." You snapped your fingers at Agnes expectantly, she reached into the pocket of light pink button up and procurred a small packet of white powder. It was tossed haphazardly across the room, you swiftly swiped it from the air. "Is John coming?"

"Just uh-" Ashley was a stuttering at this point. "Will you please put clothes on?"

"Fine. I will. Answer my question." You scooped some cocaine from the packet and shoved it into your nose. White residue covered your nostrils and your finger as you had messily used the subtance. You sniffed heavily, nostrils flaring. You shoveled a second scoop and repeated the motion.

"No. Homelander has other pressing-"

"Fine." You shook your head, lips flapping comically. "Okay." You stood tall, "Get me my suit. It's show time."

Within minutes, the three of them were walking down a hallway. Persons were speeding back and forth with papers in hand and tasks to complete. You were at the head of the trio, weaving between the workers with ease, walking with purposeful and long strides. Your black cape flowed behind you with each step, boots thumping in time. Agnes was off to your right, struggling to keep pace in her old age and her high heels, and Ashley was already a nervous wreck so she was keeping up just fine but building a sheen of sweat.

"Let's go over the rules again." Ashley breathed heavily, the three of them paused at an elevator. Agnes hunched forward and tries to catch her breath. You paused and then sent Ashley the blankest expression. "Tell me. I need to make sure you know them."

"No telling people to fuck off on live TV."

"Yes. Next." Ashley prompted, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The three entered, Agnes hobbling behind.

"No mentioning sex on TV."

"Anything sexual, don't mention it." Ashley explained further, nodding to herself. "Next." You crossed your arms and pinched your chin, eyes narrowing in thought.

"Um..." You shook your head, "It has something to do with minorities, doesn't it?"

"Politics." Ashley firmly aided, "No political talk."

"But-"

"No. Please." Ashley was genuinely begging. The last time you were on TV and you made a major messup, it wasn't on Ashley's shoulders. Now, it was on Ashley's shoulders to make sure that this interview went as smoothly as possible. And it only made matters worse in knowing that the person hovering over her was not the normal Vought executive. It was Homelander now.

Stillwell was gone. Stan Edgar was on his way out the door. And Homelander was officially set lose. No one was safe.

The doors dinged open and they walked out, arriving at the floor on Vought tower typically used for the news. The studio was already set up, workers were everywhere. You made a path straight for the empty spot on the couch beside Cameron Coleman: Vought's celebrity news anchor. As soon as you came into view, the usual ruckus of a studio set dissipated into murmurs and quiet. Coleman stood and held his hand out, he was anxious. You had a reputation for being a hastle to keep control of, you didn't blame him. You only made it worse when instead of shaking his hand, you grabbed it, flipped it over and kissed his knuckles.

"Wrong answers only." You winked at him, to your amusement, he became more flustered than he already was. You took your seat, swinging your cape up behind you to keep it from getting caught. Through all the bright lights directed at you, you saw Ashley waving frantically. She pointed at you when you met her gaze and mouthed, *Behave*. You spotted Agnes beside her and stuck your tongue out between two fingers, the obscene gesture made the woman turn red and she turned away.

"Are we ready?" Coleman asked as he buttoned his suit jacket and sat down. Someone behind the camera held up a thumb and then a count down started. Loud music blared in the background, Coleman's face grew stern and he stared at the camera.

"Is our government doing what it needs to protect us from this super-villain threat? Can we trust our leaders to take the proper stand and protect our nation? Here, I invite a former member of Payback and current hero against the super-villain threat overseas, Phoenix, how are you today?"

Everything was going well...

At first.

Ever since heroes were allowed into combat, publicly, Vought had put you in the Middle East. You had been taking down terrorists in caves and capturing enemy territory for almost an entire year before Vought brought you back. Vought didn't tell you why they brought you back, but you could assume it was because of your conduct. You weren't being very merciful over there. Targets that were supposed to be detained, were killed.

And how were you supposed to know the difference? They all acted the same anyways.

The truth was, you had gone way off the rails over there. Bringing you back was Vought's way of trying to maintain the peace. At this point in time, the government liked having heroes overseas. They wouldn't like it much longer if you continued being a problem.

So now, in the months following your return to America, you had become something of a spokesperson. You were labeled an American hero, a soldier, another defense against those 'vile super-villains'-as John so insisted they be called.

But really. Truly. You weren't okay. You hadn't been okay for a long time. Something was off. In your head. Your ventures in the Middle East had only made it worse.

You answered all the questions with conviction and a charming smile. Ashley even gave you the thumbs up, because everything was going great.

Until it wasn't...

"Phoenix, I'd like to touch on one more subject before you leave us today and I'm sure it will be a tough one..." Oh boy, you thought, another curve ball that you hadn't prepared for perhaps? "Crimson Countess..." Dread filled you, Coleman shifted in his seat and sent you a sad smile. You knew it was all an act and you prepped yourself to do the same. "In light of her death, is there anything you'd like to say? Any fond memories you have that you'd like to share?"

"Uh..." You shrugged, feeling a little panicked. You still didn't know how you felt about any of it because, frankly, you felt nothing for her. "Not really. Her and I weren't very close." Coleman's eyebrows furrow, that answer didn't seem to satisfy him.

"Really? But didn't you serve alongside her for four years?" You saw in the corner screen, facing the set, the images they were broadcasting. They were of the past. Crimson and you were clinging to eachother in one photo, laughing about a joke you don't recall. Another photo of the both of you, fighting crime together. Another photo of you standing side by side at a charity gala, dressed to impress, smiling brightly. "Surely, you both used to be great friends. What happened?" You squinted, head cocking to the side, the photos were removed from the screen and the small tv went black. Then it was the mirror image of Coleman and you, sitting on the red leather couch. You stared at yourself, at the consternation in the mirror image. "After Soldier Boy passed, I imagine you both would have gotten closer? Am I wrong? Phoenix?" Coleman insisted, your head began to throb.

Soldier Boy?

What did he have anything to do with this?

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head.

"Soldier Boy?" You were trying to catch yourself, but miserably failing. Your eyes shot up to Coleman and he raised a brow at you.

"Phoenix, are you okay? Talk to me." He was just prodding, as any interviewer would, given the circumstances. You gulped, then looked to Ashley who waved aggressively at you to continue talking.

But before you could speak, a rush of memories overcame you. You felt like your brain was being trampled on by a herd of buffallo.

Images of what you knew...

Fading.

The nuclear power plant in Ohio...

Soldier Boy laying on the ground...

It was almost like...

"Please try not to cause trouble out there." That charming smirk encompassed his face and you felt warm at just the sight of it. You were surprised to say that you were glad he stopped by. It wasn't like anyone else on the team had bothered.

"Honey, trouble is my middle name." You laughed at him, but your giggle was cut short with a harsh cough that sent you hunching forward. You felt his hand at your back and when you looked up you saw the deep scowl on his expression.

"Get Vogelbaum in here again. I don't like this."

"It's fine. I'll be okay. When you get back from Nicaragua, I'll be good as new." You attempted a reassuring smile, but it failed you. You looked more uncomfortable and the wince from the sharp inhale in your lunge did not go unnoticed.

"You better be." Soldier Boy cupped under your chin and you both stared at eachother before he withdrew. "I'll be back before you know it, hot stuff." He winked at you before turning away and heading down the hall.

...

It never happened.

The nuclear power plant never happened, but how could that be?! You have memories of escorting people away from danger, putting out fires, and Soldier Boy? You recall him telling you to...

"Go save the civilians. I'll take care of this."

You could hear his voice echo in your head, those exact words.

Before he died.

Before you found him laying in a mess of concrete and he was in your arms and you were crying because even if he was an asshole a part of you always loved him.

And then nothing...

"Phoenix?" Coleman called, snapping you from your trance like state once more. You blinked at him, then you gulped. Your throat had gone dry.

"I don't know." You answered grimly, "Actually, I should be going." You stood up and slowly walked off the stage. The crowd of crew members surrounding the set parted for you and watched in confusion as you walked away. Ashley met your side with furious steps.

"What happened?!" She was panicking. Everything was going good. What happened?! "You need to go back up there!" You had gotten as far as the elevator when Agnes was jogging up behind the both of you.

"Phoenix, honey, what's wrong?" You stared blankly at the seam of the elevator doors.

"Soldier Boy..." Your eyes rose to Ashley and they furrowed at her. "Where is his grave site again?"

"Washington D.C., I think, next to the Lincoln Memorial." Ashley answered in a weak whisper, she was looking at you in horror. "Why?"

Ding!

The elevator doors slid open and you entered them. Neither Agnes or Ashley followed, they gazed at you with questioning looks and you didn't give them any answers.

The doors slid shut behind you.

You were gone.

Return to Master list

[c-official]

Tierlist part 15: Malbolge

As a language that sets out to be as difficult to work with as possible Malboge succeeds quite efficiently. The beautiful thing is that it manages to be such a hell to write programs in with so few operations and ruler. So a solid A tier it is.

part 14

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 27

First / Previous / Next

Almost as soon as the door shut, Northern ran up to the Command Deck. As they ran, the lights automatically illuminated their way, one section of hallway ahead of them.

Northern hurried into the command room and looked around. She turned, her eyes wild. "Fen, where is everyone? Where is the rest of your crew?"

Fen pointedly slid into the command chair and started pushing buttons. She was trying to find something like an on switch. "Uh, you and Zhe are my crew so far. I... wasn't able to get anyone else."

"You don't have a crew? Who is the ship? Do you at least have an AI in charge then?" Northern's voice raised with each question as she held off panic. She sat in the chair next to Fen and started tapping a pad built into the seat. "Fen, this ship isn't configured. This ship doesn't have a name! Some subsystems have never been activated." She looked at Fen with a combination of amazement and worry. "What's going on?" She asked, in nearly a whisper. Zhe followed quietly behind them and sat in the chair on the other side of Fen.

Fen slumped in her seat. "I know Northern, I know. Dreams gave it to me, programmed the trip to Minaren and then destroyed themselves. I haven't even been in every room yet."

Northern swore in the same ancient language as Gord. "Okay. Okay. She ran both of her hands through her hair in frustration. "Okay." She stood. "This is an Imperial frigate, I can tell from the design, though parts of it feel almost... K'laxi? This ship new, right? I can smell it."

Fen nodded. "Brand new. Dreams mentioned that it was some kind of collaboration between the Empire and the K'laxi."

"Collaboration" Northern chuckled darkly. "Fine. Imperial ships crib off old designs, sometimes wholesale. Ones this small are designed to be run without an AI, but that doesn't mean it can't run with an AI." Northern's hand balled into fists as she talked. "Ugh. Fen, you have no idea how much you owe me for this. Come on." She walked out of the command deck.

Fen looked at Zhe who looked completely lost. "Uh, try and figure things out. I'll be back... soon?" She jumped out of her seat and ran after Northern.

Northern stalked the ship, her eyes darting to every door and corridor. The frigate wasn't too large; it didn't take her long to find what she was looking for. She stood in a hall under the command deck and pressed her hands against the wall. A hidden door opened, and an AI core was behind it.

"Northern! What are you doing?" Fen burst into the room as Northern peered at the racks of equipment in the room illuminated by dim red light.

"I'm saving our asses, that's what. You have no crew, the Discoverers are after us and you don't even know how to work your ship. I'll be your ship for now." Northern found what she was looking for. She pressed a button in the rack, and a lever folded out. Pulling on the lever caused part of the racks to unfold into almost a chair like shape. Northern sat and leaned her head back, moving her hair out of the way.

Fen watched as ten thin clear wires snaked out of the top of the chair and writhed as they sought out Northern. Finding her skin, they worked their way up until they found ports hidden at the nape of her neck and they slid into place, as Northern winced.

The effect was immediate. The ship subtly changed. The tone of background noises changed and even the lighting was adjusted. There was a vibration in the soles of Fen's feet. The frigate felt... alive. "Northern?"

"I am the independent frigate Northern Lights and you owe me, Captain Fenchurch Whitehorse." Northern's smooth voice came from everywhere all at once. She was the ship. "I hate being a ship, but I hate being killed or captured more. I will do this for you only until we have assembled a large enough crew to operate this ship, or until we hire another AI who actually wants the job. Go back to the command deck, and I'll run things from here." she said bitterly.

Fen made her way back to the command deck and sat in the Captain's chair. Zhe looked over and her ears flicked. "Where's Northern?"

"I'm right here Zhe. You are both inside me for now and believe me when I say it's not where I wish you were either. I'll be the ship while we escape and work out a plan of action. I've requested permission to depart from Minaren and we're getting asked to hold for inspection." There was a pause. "I assume we don't want to let them in?"

"Oh! Right." Fen blushed and sat straighter in her seat. "Yes, that's right Northern. I'd like to leave, please. Can you do that?"

Fen could hear the smile in Northern's voice. "Of course I can Fen. Do you want it loud or soft?"

"Uh... Ships choice I guess. You know more about it than me."

"Loud it is then. Please brace for shock."

At that, belts came out of the seats and wrapped securely around Zhe and Fen, tightening until they were uncomfortable and backing off slightly. They could breathe and move their arms, but Fen and Zhe were not moving otherwise. There was a series of loud bangs and Fen's inner ear complained as the orientation of the ship swinged wildly until the internal gravity was able to compensate. Northern helpfully brought up a visualization on their screens to they could see what was going on.

Northern had forcibly disconnected the docking clamps that held her to the deck in the docking bay and she was flying free on thrusters. K'laxi scattered as she hovered towards the door, dust, debris and exhaust gasses flying wildly around.

Fen heard the clatter and sharp sound of small arms ricocheting off the hull. "Uh, Northern, do we need to worry about that?"

"No Fen, not unless they bring out much larger weapons. And if they do, I'm ready."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, Fen, that Dreams gave you a fully kitted out warship and we can make war if needed. Slug throwers, laser batteries, matter printers, racks of missiles, We can go up against a Super Dreadnought and hold our own - at least for a little while. A few security guards with rifles won't stop us." Northern sounded a little testy as she was flying.

Almost as soon as Northern took off, the door to the docking bay was being swung shut. Normally the only thing keeping the atmosphere in is a pressure curtain that's maintained by some clever manipulation of the gravity near the door, but there is a physical cover that can be brought out when they need to service the gravity generators... or when a ship is trying to escape when they don't want it to leave. Northern had anticipated that and had already brought the massive forward slug throwers to bear.

Inside the air of the docking bay, the guns were deafening. They had a low buzzing roar, like bees the size of K'laxi. Northern was not stingy with the ammunition either. She'd run long buzzing shots across the door, which sent the guards and workers scattering. The impacts of the gigantic shells against the door were slowing it down, even if they couldn't quote penetrate. Northern tisked. "We're going to have to bump the door. Hold tight."

"Hold tight for wha-" Fen couldn't even finish her question when Northern stuck the door. The metal clanged against the hull, and the whole ship rang like a bell. There was an increate in vibration and rumbling coming from the rear as Northern ramped up the thrusters and she forced her way out.

As soon as she was clear she fired the main drive, and they thrusted away from Minaren. Fen turned on the radio and the open channel was filled with people yelling about their escape as well as Minaren Traffic Control begging for people to assist in stopping them.

A few ships maneuvered such that they looked like they were going to try and intercept Northern. One was a Gren warfinder, a massive ship nearly as large as a Super Dreadnought. It had turned towards Northern and had signaled that they would assist in the "capture or destruction" of Fen's ship "in a gesture of collaboration between the Gren and others." As soon as that signal had been sent, they fired missiles.

Fen watched on the display, feeling helpless as the missiles streaked towards Northern accelerating at hundreds of gees. As they grew in the viewfinder, Fen heard and felt a sharp double thump. Northern had fired the juke charges.

A human invention, the juke charges were small explosives that were released at different points around the ship's hull, inside small depressions. The charge would be launched and then detonate, allowing the ship to use the directed momentum to slide or juke out of the way of incoming missiles. If you had nerves of steel and trusted the system, you could juke at the last moment, and the missiles would streak by harmlessly.

After the thump, the inertial compensators kicked in, and Fen only felt a little vertigo as Northern ducked under the missiles. "Fen? Where are we going? I don't want to duck and dodge everyone forever."

"Uh, right right." Fen started frantically scrolling on her pad even though the answer wasn't there. "I was going to try and pick up a crew on Minaren, but that was cut short, so if either of you have any recommendations about where to go to pick up a crew, I'm all ears."

"Ancestors Preserve Us Fen! Do you not make plans? Did you think things were just going to work out? What did I sign on for?" Northern wailed as they dodged more incoming fire.

"Uh, I might know a place." Zhe said, timidly.

Fen gasped in joy and her smile illuminated Zhe. It was only slightly feral. "That's wonderful Zhe, what do you have in mind?"

Zhe's ears flicked and her fur rippled. "I have a Gate address saved for a place that my familial line knows. It's a station that's off the main transit lines and tends to attract mercenaries and... other people like that."

"A Gate address?" Northern paused for a moment. "Okay, we do have an addressing module here. And since it's a Gate address I can't just link there, we'll have to traverse the gates. Zhe, can you enter the address into your pad? I'll head towards the Gate."

Zhe set to work on her pad while Northern turned and made a burn towards the gate. Northern had turned the drive output high and noisy, and the leakage from the burn made it more difficult for the others to get a lock on them to fire missiles.

Northern had continued to accelerate as they approached the Gate, and Fen watched the signatures of the ships waiting their turn grow larger and larger. She waited for the change in orientation that came with braking. "Uh Northern, are we going... to stop?"

Northern's voice was bright but brittle. "Nah. We're going to cut the line. It's not nice, I know but needs must. Zhe you got that address entered in?"

"Yes Miss Northern, I've added it to the addressing module and it has accepted the address."

"Ah, I see. Thank you so much Zhe. Now hold on please."

The blood in Fen's veins ran cold. "Northern, how are you going to send the address to the Gate? You're going too fast."

Northern chuckled. "Oh, I did that already Fen. I overrode the gate and rejected the addresses of well, everyone, and put my address in. We're next, officially!"

"How did you-"

"Tell you later, I have to concentrate."

Northern Lights sped towards the gate. The ships in line had no time to move out of the way, but that didn't matter as Northern had angled herself to come in a little higher than the plane the ships were on. The Gate began to glow a painful, fuzzy blue, almost like Cherenkov Radiation. The ship that was next in line to enter the Gate began their coast towards the gate when Northern dove in front of them, moving too quickly for anyone else to react.

They traversed the Gate.