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ruvviks · 2 years

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Chapter >> 11 [x] Characters >> Cato Wu (oc), Eddie Wolfe (oc), Lauren Dimas (oc), Mikhail Koshechkin (oc), Roksana Dobrynina (oc), Vincent Mayer (oc), Vitali Dobrynin (oc) Total >> 12.3k words Warnings >> Blood, death, injuries, manipulative behavior, obsessive behavior from one character to another, parents, violence

‘Good morning, miss. How can I help you?’

‘Vitali Dobrynin. His office, yes?’

‘It is. Would you like to-’

‘I am here to see him. I am here to see my brother.’

‘GET DOWN!’

A quiet scoff left Mikhail’s lips and he swiftly stepped aside, the nerf dart flying close by his head and bouncing off the wall behind him. Cato jogged up to him, mouthing a silent “sorry” and she quickly lowered through her knees to grab the dart from the floor, only to immediately run off again and take shelter behind a toppled over office chair.

The nerf gun war had been ongoing since noon, started by no one other than Vincent and Cato and others had soon joined the fray, a surprisingly large amount of nerf guns readily at their disposal. It was July- and far too hot outside to run around the parking lot of Vitali’s office building, which is why they had decided to turn the waiting hall right before his office into a battleground instead.

As much as Mikhail wanted to join them, he couldn’t. He knew Vitali would not mind if he were to take a break, but as Head of Security he still had his responsibilities; and with everyone else too preoccupied with attempting to avoid getting hit in the head by a dart it made sense he stayed at his post and kept an eye on incoming mercs and clients.

He swiftly dodged another incoming projectile and began wandering his way over to the entrance of the waiting hall, eyes slowly trailing the room as he walked. It was weirdly comforting, seeing his friends run after each other and yelling back and forth without any actual danger present; yet at the same time the visual of overturned tables and chairs, of Thibault frantically attempting to reload their gun, of Eddie pretending to be hit in the chest and dramatically dropping down on the floor, disappearing out of Mikhail’s peripheral vision-

He clenched his jaw and averted his gaze, sucking in a deep breath.

They were just playing. It was fine.

Time had passed. Rather quickly, too- Vincent’s birthday still felt like it had been only yesterday yet it had already been a month, and Mikhail was not entirely sure where all that time had gone. Though whether that was because it had been quiet at the office or because he had spent a significant amount of the time inside his own head, he didn’t know.

Matvey had not shown his face again, since his city-wide attack. His mercenaries had followed his order to pull back and most of the chaos they had left behind had been back under control that very same day. Of course the attack had left its damage- but by then, most of that had been repaired and long forgotten by the public, and despite the losses suffered by the mercenary network as a whole, it was still standing strong.

Death was not an unfamiliar concept to Night City, after all.

Some minor injuries aside, none of Vitali’s mercenaries had fallen during any of it. Mikhail was glad- he knew if that had happened Vitali would’ve never forgiven himself for it. The situation as it was had already caused him to take the blame, with the Council raising their eyebrows at his past connections with Arasaka and wondering if he was behind the attacks; yet it could have easily been significantly worse, and everyone had tried taking the situation as positively as they could.

Mikhail leaned against the wall, softly clicking his tongue as he watched Vitali leave his office and pause briefly, then smile the moment he realized what was going on and what his mercenaries were doing.

He was doing a lot better, by then; well aware of the fact he found himself in the eye of the storm, but he had gladly taken it.

If anyone was in desperate need of a breath of fresh air- even if it was just for a little while- it was Vitali.

The Council still had their doubts and suspicions, of course, but they had also mostly left Vitali alone- as far as Mikhail was concerned, at least. With the ongoing chaos in the rest of town they had been too preoccupied with trying to oversee the situation and Vitali’s attempt at damage control had proven sufficient for the time being; but Mikhail feared it would only be a matter of time before their luck would run out.

The longer Matvey would hide himself away, the more the other fixers would regain their grip on the situation; and then their attention would turn right back to Vitali.

A sudden dart hit Mikhail in his shoulder and he flinched, nearly doubling over entirely, the unexpected contact startling him. He absently ran his hand over his shirt where he’d been hit, blinking a few times as he waited for his heartbeat to settle down; and his gaze caught Vincent, who jogged up to him and quickly stuffed his nerf gun in his pocket.

‘You alright?’ he asked, slowly reaching out for Mikhail and placing a hand on his lower arm. ‘You look a bit pale.’

‘I do not tan easily,’ Mikhail joked, allowing Vincent to briefly take his hand and squeeze it softly. ‘No- it’s okay. It…startled me, that’s all.’

By then, Mikhail had mostly recovered from all that had happened, having had enough time to process it and let his body rest. Though he still struggled keeping his fight or flight response under control in moments of tension or surprise, and he only allowed those closest to him to initiate any sort of physical contact- and whenever he would hear someone yell a little too loud or a little too sudden, it would still cause him to freeze.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest as he watched Vincent run off again, gesturing at the others in an attempt to redirect their lines of fire elsewhere. Mikhail smiled softly- Vincent’s considerate attitude was hard to come by in Night City.

He let his gaze wander through the hall yet another time, eyes carefully scanning those present to see if anyone new had shown up in the meantime. He had only seen mercenaries of Vitali’s inner circle present thus far; which made sense with the amount of ongoing gigs that month, and the amount of paperwork that needed to be caught up on.

But right when his eyes moved over the entrance of the hall, someone entered.

Curiosity piqued, Mikhail slowly pushed himself away from the wall and straightened his back, his entire attention now focused on the woman who had walked in; not too tall but a stiff posture, head held high and shoulders pushed back- short, bleached hair, and big, brown eyes-

No.

Mikhail froze.

Why her?

Why now?

Roksana stopped in her tracks, head tilting slightly upon seeing the scene that was playing out in front of her and she clutched her jacket a little closer to her torso while her eyes slowly scanned the entire room. Vitali was no longer there; he had grabbed what he’d needed and had disappeared right back into his office and Mikhail wished he was in there with him in that moment, far away from the familiar face from his past-

And suddenly Roksana turned her head and made direct eye contact with him.

Blyat.

Mikhail’s heart skipped a beat and he watched realization rapidly wash over her face, accompanied by a bright smile he had not quite expected in that moment; part of him wanted to grab his gun and aim it in her direction, just in case, not wanting to take any risk-

But he couldn’t move. All his muscles were frozen, locking him in place.

He could still vividly remember going to Matvey’s mansion in North Oak with Huxley, Eddie and Shiro, the day after Vitali had encountered his mother there. He could still vividly remember walking into Roksana’s room, and could still vividly remember the pictures on the walls.

And he could still vividly remember Huxley calling his name, and showing him-

‘It is good seeing you, Misha.’

Mikhail blinked and frowned, eyes briefly searching- Roksana had walked closer and stood right in front of him now, having to look up in order to be able to maintain eye contact with him. He involuntarily took a step backwards and suppressed some tics, barely able to keep himself together.

She spoke English to him, not all that surprisingly. Mikhail knew the Dobrynin siblings had been forced to exclusively speak that language at home, unlike himself, who had been raised with a mix of mostly English and Polish and some Russian on the side.

Though much like Vitali- and unlike Daniil- she had held on to her accent, actively going against her mother’s wishes; an action of which Mikhail knew was a bold move, having witnessed the direct consequences of that with Vitali on more than one occasion.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Roksana had ever faced similar punishments.

‘What are you doing here?’ Mikhail finally asked, keeping his voice low as he briefly glanced into the rest of the room; no one else had noticed Roksana enter.

‘Here to see Vitali,’ she simply answered, the bright smile from earlier still lingering on her face to the point it became a little unnerving. ‘But I was not expecting to see you here. How have you been?’

Mikhail didn’t know how to answer.

The way she spoke to him was throwing him off; like they had known each other well at any point in their lives, as if Roksana was meeting up with an old friend rather than her brother’s friend. Sure, it lined up with what they knew about her- weirdly obsessed with Mikhail, still, after so many years- but that did not take away how uncomfortable it made him and a few quiet clicks left his mouth as he quickly averted his gaze.

‘Misha.’

Stop calling me that.

Roksana reached out to him- and Mikhail flinched, nearly jumping back while pulling his arms closer to himself to dodge Roksana’s hand. In the process he managed to hit his leg against a chair and a loud BANG nearly echoed through the hall, drawing the attention of the few mercs closest to them.

‘Everything alright over there?’ Eddie called, but Mikhail couldn’t answer him; the room around him was spinning and he could barely keep his balance, nausea bubbling up in his stomach and rapidly moving up through his chest to his throat-

Why now?

He knew exactly why.

The eye of the storm- it had to end somewhere. Matvey was not just going to let this go and Roksana showing up was too much of a coincidence to be completely unrelated to the rest of the circumstances. Strange, that he would send her straight into the lion’s den; but with the family being as fucked up as it was, Mikhail was barely surprised anymore.

‘I am not going to hurt you,’ Roksana spoke, a frown decorating her face as she once again stepped closer. ‘Are you alright? You don’t look too well.’

‘Stay away from me,’ Mikhail mumbled back in Russian and shook his head, eyes wandering back into the room and finding Eddie; they had walked a little closer and looked at him with worry in their eyes, and the second their gazes met they sped off in the direction of Vitali’s office.

Roksana scoffed and rolled her eyes, placing her hand on her hip as she shot him a glare.

It was funny, almost. How much she reminded him of a younger Vitali.

‘Come on- do you truly think I came here to kill people, dressed like this?’ she asked, gesturing at her attire. ‘Besides, if you had suspected something like that you would have taken out your weapon by now.’ A pause, and her eyes moved over the several holsters on Mikhail’s belt. ‘Any of them. Misha- please. I am here to talk. Can we at least attempt to stay civilized?’

‘You have some nerve, I’ll give you that,’ Mikhail spat back, barely listening to what she had to say. ‘What makes you think I trust you? You might not be here to kill people but that doesn’t mean your intentions are good-’

The words got caught in his throat when Roksana reached out for him a second time, her fingers briefly brushing past his hand now before he could pull away; she appeared almost annoyed at his attempts at avoiding her and scoffed again, tilting her chin up.

Always believing she could get anything she wanted- as if the whole world revolved around her, the main character, and everyone else was just a background character in her story. She had been like that as a child and Vitali had always jokingly said she would grow some brain cells one day-

But here she was, dressed up in the same attitude as she’d always been wearing and Mikhail had no idea what to do with that information.

‘Vitali is in his office,’ Mikhail finally managed to say, and he vaguely gestured at the other side of the hall. ‘No idea if he is busy, but- go ahead. Talk to him.’

‘In a minute.’

Please just go.

‘I just want to catch up!’ Roksana continued, another small smile taking shape on her face as she once more moved closer. ‘Please, Misha- We have not seen each other in years now, and I-’

‘Roksana!’

She stopped talking.

It was quiet in the hall, now. Everyone was frozen in place, heads turned to Vitali who had entered again and who was quickly making his way to Mikhail, a blank look on his face. Roksana turned to look as well- her eyes briefly widened upon spotting her brother and Mikhail could not help but notice she tightly clenched her jaw.

‘Vitali,’ she quietly responded, slowly taking some steps back when Vitali positioned himself between her and Mikhail, making sure he was entirely out of her reach. ‘We… We need to talk.’

‘We do, yes,’ he answered, briefly glancing over his shoulder; his gaze caught Mikhail’s and for a split second his features softened, right before he turned back to his sister and another shadow washed over his face. ‘In my office. I do not want to see you near Mikhail again.’

As if they were suddenly seventeen years old again and Vitali was scolding Roksana for entering his room without his permission. A curious feeling- Mikhail had experienced the same when Daniil had shown up, and when they had come face to face with Matvey.

And it was not a good feeling.

He watched with clenched fists as Vitali and Roksana slowly started making their way to his office, the both of them glancing back at him briefly- Mikhail merely averted his gaze in response, unable to look at either of them.

He was unsure if Vitali had anything to do with her sudden appearance. He acted strangely calm; but that could easily just be because he was used to it by now, rather than because he had called her himself or anything the like. So used to situation after situation happening that it barely drew a reaction out of him anymore, and Mikhail couldn’t help but think once again how Vitali was starting to remind him of-

‘You alright?’

Eddie’s voice was gentle and quiet, yet still managed to startle Mikhail a little and he defensively took a step back. He quickly scanned the rest of the room, half expecting everyone to still be staring at him- but they were not, all quietly mumbling to each other as they started to clean up the mess they’d made.

Only Vincent was looking in his direction, still, hands nervously clasped together in front of his torso. The moment their gazes met, he quickly looked away.

‘I don’t know,’ Mikhail finally managed to wring out of himself, voice strangled as he looked back at Eddie. The worried look in their eyes doubled instantly and a soft sigh left their chest, before they hesitantly reached out for him.

Mikhail stepped forward and allowed Eddie to hug him, dropping his head on their shoulder and weakly wrapping his own arms around their waist in return. He closed his eyes, focusing on Eddie’s hand reassuringly running over his back, and slowly felt his heartbeat settle down.

He wasn’t ready yet.

He wasn’t ready for everything to pick up where it left off, for Matvey to return, for the situation to escalate again. The eye of the storm- but Mikhail wished it would last just a little longer, give them just a little bit more time-

But it was already too late for that now.

Of course she was there.

Vitali was not surprised- from the moment he had learned his father was the Broker he had wondered about Roksana’s involvement in it all and he had known it would only be a matter of time before she would show.

But now that she was there, for some reason he had trouble believing he was awake.

It was all starting again. They’d had a brief moment of peace and Vitali had gotten comfortable- too comfortable, and now he found himself nervous and on edge as if he had entirely forgotten how to handle situations like these and needed to relearn from scratch.

He patiently waited at the door of his office and closed it behind him the moment Roksana had entered. She took a few slow steps further but then stopped, eyes trailing the walls of Vitali’s office as she carefully turned around and looked at him.

He didn’t know what to say.

Seeing Daniil all grown up had already hit him hard, but at least he had expected that; he had called his brother himself and despite the time that had passed, Daniil had still been easily recognizable to Vitali, the only vastly different thing about him being his height.

Roksana had changed. A lot.

Head held high, short and bleached hair- nothing at all like what it used to be. A face full of makeup, too, and she wore a red silk dress that Vitali knew Nadya would not approve of in the slightest.

But the expression on her face is what got to him the most. He had never realized she looked so similar to their mother.

Vitali hesitantly stepped closer and held out his arms, unsure what to expect- but it was as if Roksana had been waiting and she immediately closed the distance, crashing into his arms with so much force he almost got slammed into the door.

He tightly wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes, feeling a sudden weight wash off his shoulders as he thankfully buried his face in his sister’s hair. A moment of weakness, perhaps- if she was there with bad intent he could be met with a knife to the stomach, possibly a mantis blade directly to the chest-

‘I’ve missed you,’ Roksana quietly said to him in Russian.

Vitali swallowed heavily, forcing the tears that were threatening to well up in his eyes back.

‘I’ve missed you too.’

So many years apart- a choice Vitali had made because he’d had to get out of there, but he had never meant for the loss of contact to happen as it did. Nadya’s choice, if he were to believe his father; it could very easily be a lie, or a half-lie, a careful maneuver around the truth for whatever purpose-

But Vitali still vividly remembered the look in Matvey’s eyes when he had spoken, and the sudden softness of his voice. Something had changed, in that moment- and Vitali knew his father had spoken the truth to him.

‘You’ve changed your hair,’ Vitali said, stating the obvious as he slowly let go of his sister and made his way to his desk to sit down.

‘I was sick and tired of it,’ Roksana answered and she straightened her back, running her hand over her dress to flatten out the fabric and she followed him, slowly lowering herself into the same chair Daniil had sat in some weeks earlier. ‘You, out of all people, should understand.’

Vitali lightly clenched his jaw, reaching out to grab a pen to spin between his fingers as his mind briefly wandered back to when he first cut his hair short; an impulsive decision, at an unfortunate time in his life, caused by-

‘I do,’ he cut his own thoughts off. ‘Did it help?’

Roksana briefly held his gaze, then averted her eyes and tilted her head up again, corner of her mouth slightly twitching up into a small smile.

‘Yes. Mother wasn’t happy, but- this isn’t about her.’

‘Good.’

Vitali did not even want to think about Nadya’s possible reaction to Roksana coming home with her hair done, but he knew their mother well enough to know it could not have been easy for his sister. In the brief silence between them, his gaze found Roksana’s again-

It had hurt her, one way or another. He could see it in her eyes.

‘I assume you’re aware of the situation we’ve found ourselves in,’ Vitali quietly said, quickly changing the subject and still speaking in Russian; a pleasant change of pace, and it felt good to finally be able to speak his mother tongue again with at least one of his family members.

‘I am,’ Roksana replied. She briefly paused and her eyes wandered off to the large window wall behind Vitali. ‘And I would like for it to end. It’s been going on for long enough, if you ask me.’

Vitali thought back to what Daniil had told him; how everything had started after Vitali had been fired, and his parents had lost their jobs as well as a result of it all; and that had happened several years ago at that point, meaning Matvey had had more than enough time to plan Vitali’s downfall.

So much time spent obsessing with his son- and for what?

‘He is not going to stop,’ Roksana continued, straightening her back as she sucked in a deep breath. ‘I’ve tried talking some sense into him, but- well, you know how stubborn he is. Truly believes he is going to achieve something with this that won’t end in blood. I don’t know what else he has planned, but he will strike again. And he won’t stop until he- until he feels like you have gotten what you deserve.’

‘So it truly is nothing more than revenge?’ Vitali asked. His heartbeat was speeding up again, the same anxiety filling his chest as weeks before; it had been nice to be free from it for a while, but of course that couldn’t last.

‘Are you really asking me that?’ Roksana smiled and scoffed, gesturing vaguely around the room. ‘This family- has anything ever been about something other than revenge?’

Daniil breaking his phone, and all the other things he used to do as a response to Vitali asking him for help; Roksana telling on them whenever she could even if the situation didn’t involve her, simply because she felt left out despite her young age being the sole reason for that, most of the time; Matvey refusing to help Nadya because she had yelled at him earlier that day, and Nadya refusing to make dinner because she felt like everyone was undeserving of it even though she was the one who had ruined the mood in the first place-

And even Vitali himself, with his clever ways of making Daniil pay for breaking his belongings and never helping him; and how he would just leave and go to Mikhail’s place whenever he pleased, to show his parents just how little he wanted to be around them-

‘I would like to help you.’

Roksana spoke quietly, a slight thrill to her voice as she switched back to English and leaned a little closer- and Vitali instinctively leaned closer as well. ‘He will not see that coming. He believes I am on his side- had maybe expected Danya to show, to help you- but that did not happen. If he finds out I am here with you, perhaps- perhaps that will give you enough leverage against him.’

‘And if not?’ Vitali asked.

Roksana hesitated.

And that was all he needed to know.

His sister was committed, confident in her own abilities and strongly convinced of her own beliefs; but the hesitance spilling from her lips and stiffening her shoulders did not suit her in the slightest, telling Vitali there was more to her story than she was willing to admit.

Sent by their father, perhaps? It wouldn’t surprise him. Perhaps Matvey too was running low on options by then and had resorted to grasping at straws to try and get his grip back on the situation.

But Vitali was not sure. All he had to go on was his intuition, a bad feeling deep down in his stomach, accompanied by the voice in his head continuously telling him things will take a turn for the worse; and the last thing he wanted, was to be the one to send Roksana away.

He couldn’t do that. What if his intuition was wrong? What kind of brother would he be, then?

‘At least I will have made the right decision,’ Roksana finally answered, slowly leaning back in her chair. ‘If he looks down the sight of his gun and sees his own children and even that won’t bring him to his senses, then perhaps he is too far gone to be saved.’

Vitali scoffed and straightened his back, gaze lowering to his desk. ‘I think we’re already far past that point.’

‘Not yet.’ Roksana paused, a light frown taking shape on her face.

‘He has forgotten you are his son, Vitali. We just need to make him remember that.’

Vitali wanted nothing more than to believe her; but something was holding him back. How could Matvey forget about something like that? Of course Roksana did not mean “forgetting” like that- he was simply choosing to forget about it, yet still- how could anyone push something like that so far underneath the surface it made them completely indifferent about the idea of ruining their own child’s life?

He clenched his jaw, mind wandering back to the last time he had seen his father. How he had spoken to him; how Viktor had been unable to remain quiet as well, and how everything about the situation had felt wrong, and-

Different.

But Vitali didn’t know what any of it meant.

‘So, what now?’ Roksana suddenly asked, giving Vitali an expectant look.

‘Very good question,’ he answered, slowly scanning her face and trying to come up with anything else to say.

He could send her away.

It would be very easy- what was she going to do about it? Her story sounded too good to be true and Vitali doubted she could just sneak away like she supposedly had without Matvey and Nadya noticing, even now that she was already a full-grown adult.

But sending her away like that would not do him any good.

The small chance she was telling the truth- if he were to send her away, she’d have no one to turn to. And all of that sounded just a little bit too familiar to Vitali.

‘You can stay,’ he continued, a heavy weight pressing down on his shoulders as he spoke. ‘I have some bedrooms in this building- you are allowed to sleep here for the time being, if you’d like. We wait until father makes his next move, and act accordingly. Yes?’

‘And in the meantime?’ Roksana asked.

‘You can help out around here. Business stalled since- well, all of this started happening. There are plenty of jobs that need to be done, we need supplies, we need clientele back. I’ll introduce you to Cato, she will stay with you through all of this. Until it is over. And then we will see what happens next.’

He feared he was making a mistake. But what else could he do?

‘Thank you,’ Roksana said, a small smile taking shape on her face. ‘You won’t regret this, I promise.’

Vitali wanted nothing more than to believe her.

But he truly did not know what to think anymore.

‘On your right!’

Vincent jumped out of the way upon hearing Cato yell, right in time to dodge an incoming attack. The Maelstromer stumbled forward, knocked off-balance by the sudden lack of a target in front of them and Vincent used that momentum to push them on the ground and slam their head into the asphalt, rendering them unconscious.

Only a few more left.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He deployed his mantis blades and ran for cover, pausing momentarily until the gunfire came to a brief halt- and he jumped right back in, slashing someone’s neck in the middle of their reload and using their body as partial cover while moving closer to his next target.

He went for a stab right between the ribs, but his blade got caught by another; the Maelstromer had mantis blades themself as well and violently pushed Vincent’s arms apart, leaving his torso exposed. A rush of panic caused his breath to get caught in his throat and he flinched-

But before the blades could get even near him, a gunshot echoed through the air and blood splattered onto Vincent’s face and the front of his t-shirt and jacket, and the Maelstromer dropped motionless to the ground.

Silence washed over the small parking lot and Vincent made direct eye contact with Roksana, dressed in similar combat gear as Mikhail and Cato, still holding her gun- which was now pointed directly at his chest. Her face was unreadable, a trait she shared with both her brother and her father, and she lightly clenched her jaw as she slowly lowered the weapon without saying a word.

‘Everyone still in one piece?’ Cato asked, reloading her rifle as she spun around in a circle, checking their surroundings. ‘Mish? Talk to me, baby.’

‘All limbs attached,’ Mikhail responded from behind a car, as he slowly got back up on his feet. ‘V?’

‘Peachy,’ Vincent said and gave him a thumbs up. His mantis blade was still deployed and he nearly cut himself with it.

‘Coast looks clear from my point of view,’ Lauren said through his earpiece. ‘Get the stash and delta. More of their chooms might be en route.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Cato replied. ‘Rox? You with us?’

Vincent glanced over his shoulder again, just in time to see Roksana shove her phone back in her back pocket and give Cato a single, solid nod. Once again, unreadable- hadn’t said much the entire gig so far, and judging by her demeanor that very moment Vincent doubted that was going to change.

They had been sent there by Vitali to pick up a stash that disappeared off his radar several months ago. Thus far they hadn’t found a moment to go look for it- and by then, Vitali feared it would no longer be around- but it was definitely worth a shot, considering the contents of the stash would hopefully get them enough eddies to stock up on supplies.

The brief ceasefire they’d had with Matvey had given them some time to get business back on track, but it had been a lot harder than any of them had anticipated. Many mercenaries- as well as clients- had decided to lie low for the time being, too paranoid about the whole Broker situation and Vitali’s possible involvement, which meant Vitali had gotten very few new gigs and very few mercs at his disposal to send out into the field.

In other words, Vincent had mostly focused on their backlog, like the other mercenaries who were still around. Not all the jobs could be finished as desired anymore because of the time that had passed, but he guessed it was better than nothing.

But it still meant they continued to run low on supplies. And especially if Matvey was now picking up where he had left off, that would not be good for them.

‘What are we looking for, exactly?’ Vincent asked, pushing a cart aside to get inside the garage.

‘Small package, or a box,’ Cato answered, swiftly following him and kicking up a stray basketball with her foot to toss it into the hoop attached to the wall. ‘Looks fancy, expensive. Probably has some diamonds superglued to it- and it’s heavy. ’s All I know.’

Vincent had no idea what was in it, and frankly, he did not care. Some of the gigs Vitali handed out looked shady on the surface, but Vincent knew his boyfriend well by then- and he knew he never just took a job from a client without a proper look into their business to see if they had any aces up their sleeve.

‘So this is what my brother makes you do every day?’ Roksana suddenly asked from right next to Vincent, startling him a little bit; he had not heard or seen her approach.

‘Well, usually, yeah,’ he slowly answered, briefly looking in her direction before quickly redirecting his attention to the lockers in front of him. ‘Office’s been in a tizzy lately because of your father, but- on any normal weekday we’re just doin’ gigs like these.’

‘Sounds boring.’ Roksana opened one of the lockers too and slowly let her gaze move through it, before closing it again and opening another. ‘I feel like there is a lot more you can do than retrieve little boxes for him, no?’

Vincent clenched his jaw and opened a locker with a bit more force than he had wanted and half of its contents came flying out; stacks of papers, books, nothing of real value and most importantly, none of it was what he was looking for, and he quietly cursed to himself as he tried to kick the mess underneath the lockers to get it out of the way.

‘To me it sounds like he is making you run all of his errands,’ Roksana continued. ‘A bit hypocritical if you ask me, truly. I thought he hated doing all our parents’ jobs for them when he was younger.’

Vitali barely talked about his past. Vincent had heard a story or two about Daniil refusing to help his brother whenever he needed help in the household, but that was about it; not that he minded, though. It was none of his business to begin with and Vitali probably wanted to leave most if not all of that in the past, where it belonged.

‘Clearly this is very different,’ Cato suddenly said from the other side of the garage, while rummaging through some toolboxes. ‘We’re on payroll. He pays us to “run his errands”. It’s jobs he takes from the client, then gives to us, we get the goods, deliver, get our eddies, everyone’s happy. It’s not like doing the fuckin’ dishes.’

‘Does he ever make you do the dishes at home, V?’ Lauren chimed in, causing Cato to snort.

‘I mean- I do the dishes with Misha, yeah,’ Vincent answered, unsure if she was expecting an actual answer or not. ‘Vito does the cooking, we clean the kitchen after. Seems fair.’

‘God, I love that.’ Cato paused and turned to look at Vincent, a big grin on her face. ‘Hearin’ about the boss doing regular human things. Is he a good cook? Or do I need to start looking for a better fixer?’

The banter continued going back and forth between Cato and Lauren for a bit, but Vincent was no longer listening, gaze drawn towards Mikhail; he was searching the garage in silence, back turned to all of them as he moved as quick as he could, clearly not interested in joining in on the conversation.

Vincent worried about him, still. His friend was doing a lot better than before- but he still froze up regularly and refused to get close to anyone, while Vincent knew he needed the comfort of other human beings around him.

And on gigs Mikhail moved quickly, resolutely. Not wanting to waste any time- like he had always done, in a way- though back then it had been a controlled and determined hurry whereas now Vincent could almost feel the panic and stress rushing through Mikhail’s system.

‘Surely there are more exciting things to do than look for supplies,’ Roksana calmly continued, unaware of Vincent being distracted from the conversation and deciding to ignore Cato and Lauren entirely. ‘This is Night City. You guys are mercenaries, yes? Should that not mean more than this?’

Vincent exhaled sharply and lowered his gaze, a sudden rush of adrenaline catching him off-guard as he suddenly found himself in the hallways of a luxurious corpo hotel, crouched behind a planter with a gun that did not belong to him clenched in his hand, his best friend sitting beside him with his hand pressed on his side while rapidly bleeding out-

‘And do you never feel underappreciated, then?’ A pause, as silence washed over the garage and Roksana looked between the three of them, putting her hands to her hips. ‘Clearly you are very capable individuals, able to do much more than this. Does he show you his gratitude? Ever?’

Vincent pushed his own thoughts aside and immediately glanced back at Mikhail, who had sucked in a sharp breath and had straightened his back upon hearing Roksana’s words.

A touchy topic, still.

Yes, Vitali showed them his gratitude; but in some cases in different ways than they would expect. Vincent vividly remembered Mikhail and Vitali’s fight at the very start of that year- he had heard the entire story later, since he had not been present at the time it had happened- how Mikhail had indeed felt underappreciated by Vitali, and how it’d later turned out he had merely been comparing himself to the mercenaries Vitali purposely treated differently and showed his gratitude to in a more direct way, because he believed they needed the extra encouragement-

Partially a misunderstanding, partially the circumstances piling up to the point of collapse. They had talked about it, moved on from it- but to hear it all brought up again in this context, by no one other than Vitali’s sister of all people-

‘A complicated man,’ Roksana continued, the words leaving her lips with a sigh. ‘He appears so indifferent to me, about things- I wonder what happened.’

‘A lot has happened since last time you saw him,’ Mikhail suddenly cut her off, a sharp edge to his voice Vincent hadn’t heard from him before. ‘Of course he shows his gratitude; and if he seems a little absent to you it might be because his own father wants to ruin his life, in case you had not heard.’

‘If anything it should be a wake-up call,’ Roksana simply replied, unbothered by his tone as she slowly walked closer to him. ‘For him to not become like that himself. But to me it seems like he is starting to mirror father- and mother too.’

‘Really? You have gathered all that information in only three days, now?’

‘Are you implying I am lying to you? He is my brother, Mikhail. I know my own family.’

How quick the mood had changed, suddenly- and Vincent wasn’t a fan of it. Roksana clearly was no longer simply trying to make conversation, and the more she spoke the more Vincent wanted her to stop.

It didn’t do him much, what she was saying; of course not, why would it? Simply trying to cause doubts where there were none in the first place, why would Vitali not appreciate the work they did for him?

Vincent was pulled out of his thoughts by Mikhail’s voice, louder than before and a little panicked. He looked up- just in time to see Cato push herself between her friend and Roksana, smacking her hand away and pointing a finger at her chest.

‘Thought I was clear at the debrief,’ she hissed. ‘Stay away from Misha. Won’t say it again.’

Another tense silence washed over the garage and Vincent quickly averted his gaze again, his desire to find that stupid fucking stash and getting the hell out of there growing with every passing second.

He was not entirely sure what Mikhail’s history with Roksana was. All he had heard was they’d found a picture of him in Roksana’s room back in the Dobrynin mansion in North Oak, and Roksana had supposedly been weirdly obsessed with him when they had been young. Either way, Vincent understood why Vitali wanted to keep his sister away from Mikhail, especially considering what happened- and could have happened- when Mikhail had still been in Ravager’s captivity-

‘Got the stash.’

Cato held a little box up in the air- coated with dark blue velvet, and Vincent could see the shimmer from a jewel even from a distance- and then quickly stuffed it in the pocket of her armor while beelining for the exit of the garage. Vincent followed suit, and briefly slowed his pace when he noticed the others moving as well so he could position himself between Mikhail and Roksana.

Mikhail briefly glanced at him as he passed him by, a thankful look in his eyes.

Not a word was spoken between any of them, on the way home. It was only a short ride; yet it felt like years to Vincent, the tension from in the garage seemingly multiplied- and it did not help that Roksana’s words were still bouncing around in his head.

No doubts, again. Not about Vitali at least- if anything, he was starting to doubt her.

Nobody had liked the fact she was going to stick around. But nobody had said anything about it, either; Vitali was their boss, and Roksana was his sister, and if he let her stay then it would surely be for good reasons.

Vincent hadn’t entirely understood why, though. Not at any point had he believed her intentions were good and if anything, everything that had just happened in the garage, proved that.

Upon arrival at Vitali’s office building, Cato handed Vincent the little box and he went inside before the others, who stuck around the parking lot for a little longer to catch up with some people there. Vincent absently greeted some mercs in the entrance hall and directly went upstairs- almost on autopilot, but with adrenaline running through his veins as if he had to hurry for whatever reason, wanting nothing more than to tell Vitali about what had happened as soon as he could.

The elevator slowly ascended and Vincent stood in silence the whole time, eyes glued to his own reflection in the mirror.

Out of everyone in the office, he had probably dealt with the situation best thus far; not surprisingly so, considering what had happened the year before with the Relic and Johnny Silverhand.

But he was starting to become tired now.

The constant worrying about whether or not Matvey was going to strike again- and now the constant worrying about Roksana and her motives, whether she would turn on them or not-

Vincent clenched his jaw tightly as he left the elevator, his heartbeat picking up from just thinking about it all. He wondered how Vitali still managed to keep himself together so well, considering the circumstances; if Vincent had been in his shoes, he would have probably left town several weeks ago.

‘We found the stash.’

Vincent had quietly entered Vitali’s office and slowly walked further inside, holding the little box tightly in both his hands. Vitali had not looked up from his work yet- reading glasses so low on his nose they nearly threatened to fall off, while he quickly skimmed through a page of his paperwork.

It was easy to forget sometimes, to Vincent; that Vitali was a fixer, running an entire business mostly by himself, on top of everything else that was going on in his life. Early in their relationship it had been the only thing on his mind, wondering if he was even allowed to have such feelings for Vitali in the first place, yet now he had to be periodically reminded of it through moments like the one they found themselves in in that very moment; a moment of peace, in which Vitali was merely focused on some boring paperwork instead of trying to keep his mercenaries alive.

‘That is good news. You can leave it on my desk.’

A little bit dismissive, but Vincent did not look too deep into it; Vitali was busy, by the looks of it deep in thought- the stack of documents on his desk was nearly as tall as his computer screen at that point.

But suddenly Roksana’s words rapidly flooded back into Vincent’s mind, and before he could turn around to walk back and leave, he stopped himself, and quietly cleared his throat.

Vitali finally looked up, adjusting his glasses in what looked like the last possible second and running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. His eyes rapidly moved over Vincent’s features and he immediately seemed to realize what was wrong, and quickly put his pen down.

‘Did everything go alright?’ he asked, rising to his feet.

‘Decent enough, I s’pose,’ Vincent answered. ‘Minor bumps in the road, you know how it is with Maelstrom. It’s just- your sister.’

‘Is she not pulling her weight?’

‘She is! But- I dunno. Something’s off about her. The way she speaks. About us- about you. It doesn’t sit right with me.’

Vincent could not help but notice he picked his own words carefully. As if the conversation was like navigating through a minefield, as if one wrong step would cause an explosion, would make the situation worse; would cause Vitali to get angry with him.

Even though that had never happened before.

‘What did she talk about?’ Vitali quietly asked. He had moved around his desk in the meantime, but the mention of Roksana had caused him to stop and keep his distance; because it had been unexpected to him, perhaps, or merely just to keep it professional for now.

Sure, they were dating, but at the office he was still Vincent’s boss.

‘A lot of things,’ Vincent replied. ‘To me it sounded like she’s tryin’ to pit us up against you. Tried to make it sound like you’re making us run your errands like your parents used to do with you-’

Vitali leaned back against his desk and in the movement the back of his shoe collided with the wood a little bit harder than he had meant for, the sudden noise causing Vincent to stop talking and flinch a little. He stood unmoving for a moment, watching Vitali’s gaze fixate on nothing in particular somewhere behind Vincent, and then slowly walked a little closer.

‘You’re not,’ he slowly said, reaching out and placing a hand on Vitali’s arm which he had crossed in front of his chest. ‘I know it’s different. This is literally our job- you’re paying us. That’s why it doesn’t sit right with me. She’s clearly got her own agenda.’

He watched Vitali in silence for a moment, waiting for a response; but Vitali said nothing, facial expression unreadable, and he still refused to make eye contact with Vincent for whatever reason.

‘Hey.’

Vincent spoke softly, shuffling a little bit closer until Vitali finally looked at him again. Vincent slowly reached out- so as not to startle him- and carefully took the other man’s reading glasses off his nose and placed them on the desk behind him.

‘I love you,’ he said, reaching up again and cupping Vitali’s cheek; Vitali’s eyes fluttered shut and he slightly turned his head, to be able to kiss the palm of Vincent’s hand.

‘I love you, and- and I trust you. Not your sister. She just got here and I’m still not sure what her angle is exactly but from where I’m standing it looks like she’s trying to trick us into thinking you’re a bad person.’

‘What do you suggest I do?’

The question came so unexpectedly, Vincent froze.

Vitali’s eyes were still on him; he was waiting, patient as ever, a concerned frown decorating his brow. Their faces were only inches apart, by then- had this happened a little over a year earlier, Vincent would not have been able to focus on anything other than Vitali’s lips.

‘You’re askin’ me that?’ he finally managed to quietly say, thumb softly moving over Vitali’s cyberware. ‘I- I think you should do what feels right to you. She’s your sister, but if she’s only here to try and pit everyone up against each other then maybe she really shouldn’t be around. Especially not now. I can handle it, but- you know, ‘specially with the Council already doubting you, wondering if you’re with Arasaka, wondering if you’re behind the Broker’s attacks-’

‘You’re right,’ Vitali quietly cut him off and nodded, a shaky exhale leaving his lips and he closed his eyes. ‘You’re right. I- I should not have let her in here in the first place.’

‘It’s alright, I understand.’ Vincent paused, and bit the inside of his cheek. ‘It’s your sister. If it’d been Phoebe, or Riley- I would’ve probably done the same.’

It helped, putting it in perspective like that. He still did not entirely understand Vitali’s decision- mainly because of what had happened earlier that year, with Daniil- but Vincent did understand like no other that family made everything a lot more complicated than it seemed on a surface level.

He would let his own sisters stay, no questions asked. Even if he himself didn’t entirely understand his own decision.

Vitali hesitantly leaned in a little and Vincent immediately closed the distance between them, lips finding Vitali’s with ease- and he felt his boyfriend relax against him, hands sliding down his waist to his lower back to pull him even closer.

A much needed kiss, one that grew desperate within only seconds; Vincent draped his arms over Vitali’s shoulders and gasped when they suddenly turned around and he was pressed between the desk and Vitali’s body, hands tightly gripping his hips- thigh gently pushing itself between his legs.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this at work right now,’ Vincent mumbled into the kiss, lips curling up into a small smile when Vitali hummed in disagreement and let his hand move back and slip into the back pocket of Vincent’s pants.

‘Really? What is stopping you this time?’

‘Circumstances.’

‘Oh, I apologize, V. Do I need to remind you of what we did some weeks ago, right here where I am standing right now?’

‘You think I’ve already forgotten?’

A brief silence as Vincent wiggled his eyebrows at Vitali and leaned in again to give him another quick kiss. Vitali hummed softly in return and his grip on Vincent’s body tightened again- telling him he wasn’t going to just let him walk back out of the door any time soon.

‘Did you lock the door behind you?’ he quietly asked, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down Vincent’s cheek and jaw to his neck.

‘Mhm,’ Vincent answered and shivered when Vitali’s hand found its way into his t-shirt- it was a little cold.

A well-deserved distraction from everything that was going on- Vincent wasn’t complaining at all. He ran his hand through the back of Vitali’s hair and gripped it tightly when he felt Vitali’s teeth gently dig into his skin a little, and a shaky breath left his lips as Vitali pushed his thigh up a little before he moved his face closer to Vincent’s ear and spoke again-

‘Good.’

‘No one ever helps me in this household!’

‘I am at work. My break is in twenty minutes, I can-’

‘Never mind! I will do it myself now!’

Nadya stormed out of the room, loudly slamming the door shut behind her causing both Daniil and Roksana to flinch. They were sitting on the floor of the living room- Daniil was sick and was wrapped in a blanket, staring blankly ahead, and Roksana was sat next to him, trying to focus on a drawing she had still been working on some minutes earlier.

Vitali glared at the now closed door leading to the hallway, listening to their mother scream and curse at nobody in particular. He sat in the corner of the couch, as far away from his father as he could; he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the comfort and safety of his bedroom, but did not dare to get closer to Nadya during her infamous temper tantrums and wisely stayed put.

He was not even sure what she was angry about this time. Something about cleaning the kitchen, he assumed; he himself had been too busy with homework and laundry and taking care of Daniil to find a moment to do it earlier that day.

Matvey quietly mumbled something to himself in Russian before redirecting his attention to the laptop in his lap while adjusting his reading glasses and lightly shaking his head. Just this once, Vitali understood his father’s frustration; he was already busy with work, and could not split himself into two in order to also help Nadya out at that very moment.

Vitali clenched his jaw when he heard his mother slam yet another door and he slowly got up, his leg protesting with his every move. It was the first time that day he had actually been able to sit down to take a break from all his chores, but the way Nadya was acting just made him even more stressed and on edge than he had been before- and if cleaning up the kitchen for her would cause her to finally shut the fuck up, then he was willing to do that.

But before he could even walk past his siblings, the door to the living room suddenly flung open again and Nadya barged in, shooting him a glare before she stomped into the kitchen.

‘Anything I can do to help?’ Vitali calmly asked, but he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

‘I do not need your help.’

Then stop fucking complaining about it.

He almost said it out loud. Almost.

A sharp inhale, a shaky exhale. From the corner of his eye he could see Matvey briefly look up at him, and Vitali slightly tilted his head up as he forced the words to stay stuck in his throat, locked solidly behind his teeth, knowing if he were to say another word he would only end up making it worse.

Work on your self-control.

For a brief moment he simply stood there, watching Nadya in the kitchen- setting a stack of plates down with a lot more force than necessary, while angrily muttering to herself and forcefully turning on the tap- and then he slowly took a step back, and glanced down at his siblings.

Daniil had not moved since he’d sat down with his sister, clutching the edges of the blanket in white-knuckled fists and after short eye contact with Vitali he averted his gaze to the floor. Roksana had pulled up her legs in the meantime and she rested her chin on top, eyes glossy and staring straight at the drawing she’d been working on.

And it almost caused Vitali to open his mouth anyway.

Almost.

He slowly sat down on the floor next to his sister, shooting another glare into the kitchen when Nadya dropped a handful of cutlery in the sink loud enough for Roksana to flinch once more. He softly tapped her arm, and when both she and Daniil were looking at him he lifted up his hands.

After all those years, Nadya still refused to learn sign language for him. But everyone else knew it.

‘She is making this her own problem at this point,’ Vitali said, moving only his hands and lips while no actual sound left his mouth. ‘It’s not either of your fault. Yes?’

He paused, waiting until both of them nodded, then briefly glanced into the kitchen again- Nadya was not paying any attention to them, and Vitali’s lips curled up a little before redirecting his attention to his siblings.

‘How shocked do you think she will be when she finds out that there will be more dishes after dinner tonight?’

The tension in the living room instantly disappeared and Roksana immediately reached for her face to do a near-perfect impression of The Scream, causing Daniil to chuckle softly- which he quickly covered up with a soft cough.

‘She is going to explode,’ he replied, quickly coughing again when another chuckle threatened to leave his lips when Vitali started mimicking their mother forcefully throwing stuff into the sink.

‘A million little mother-pieces on the floor,’ Roksana added, lowering her legs again to give her hands more room to move. Vitali wiggled his eyebrows at her and could barely suppress a laugh.

‘Do you think she’ll want us to pick all those pieces up and put her in some soapy water in the sink as well?’

Both Daniil and Roksana quickly covered their faces, muffled giggling quickly filling the living room. Vitali grinned and briefly looked up again, to make sure their mother wasn’t looking at them-

But instead of being met with Nadya, he made direct eye contact with Matvey.

Vitali’s smile faded immediately and his heart skipped a beat, a rush of adrenaline nearly causing him to jump to his feet. Judging by the look on his father’s face he had seen everything- and Vitali instantly wished he hadn’t sat down and said anything at all and had just gone to his room like he had initially planned on doing-

But Matvey merely smiled at him, and went back to work as if nothing had happened.

And for a moment, Vitali could not do anything.

He sat there, unmoving, while Daniil and Roksana continued giggling and signing things at each other. Matvey was no longer paying attention to them, and even Nadya had gotten a bit quieter in the kitchen- almost on purpose, leaving Vitali all alone in a silent void of his own thoughts.

It was not fair.

Why couldn’t his father be like that all the time? Why only when it felt right to him, when Nadya had just finished chewing him out? A tiny act of revenge, almost- letting them talk shit instead of speaking up and defending their mother, like he would’ve usually done.

Vitali lowered his gaze and watched as Roksana happily picked up one of her pencils again and went back to coloring. Daniil briefly looked at him- and even though he was unable to hold his brother’s gaze, there was a small smile on his face again.

Family.

It was complicated.

Vitali didn’t know what to do with it anymore.

Vitali allowed some days to pass.

He was not sure why. In hindsight, it would have been better to confront Roksana the second he had learned about what she was saying about him; but something had stopped him from doing so.

Kindness? To give her a second chance?

Or just plain stupidity?

She had talked to others in those few days. He had not heard any of it- but he had felt people’s eyes on his back, and despite knowing they would not just turn on him like that it hadn’t felt right in the slightest and he wished, oh, he wished he had just-

But dwelling on it would not get him anywhere. Better late than never.

Vitali hurried through the hallways of his office building, barely able to keep his breathing stable while he searched for his sister. Vincent had given him a second heads up about her- had overheard yet another one of her conversations with a merc about Vitali and had wasted no time telling him about it, and Vitali truly wondered how Vincent had managed to not get pissed at him for waiting so long to take action.

He had not seen Mikhail most of the day thus far. He knew he was there- had left home around the same time as him, just in a separate car- but Vitali was starting to become worried, now that he couldn’t find Roksana anywhere either.

She had not been allowed to come near him during her stay there, but Vitali was unsure if she had listened to that at all- considering how little she used to listen to him when they’d been younger.

He finally arrived at weapon storage, the one place he hadn’t checked yet and he barged in without knocking. His eyes rapidly moved over the room- windows on his left with a table and some chairs, and lockers and stands lined against the wall on his right displaying weapons and ammunition- and found no one other than his best friend and sister.

Mikhail stood pressed against the wall, head snapping up the second Vitali entered. He looked terrified- and Roksana stood in front of him, not quite having reached him yet, and Vitali desperately hoped nothing had happened before he had entered.

‘Roksana, what are you doing?’

In one swift movement, she pulled a gun from the holster on her belt and aimed it in Vitali’s direction, swatting Mikhail’s hand away in the process to prevent him from grabbing it from her. She took a few steps closer to her brother, face unreadable; then steadied her hand with the other.

The temperature around them seemed to drop instantly and Vitali sucked in a shallow breath, gaze briefly finding Mikhail’s- he still stood pressed tightly against the wall as if afraid to move, shaking hand hovering mid-air but no longer attempting to reach for Roksana’s weapon.

Nothing about the situation frightened- or surprised, for that matter- Vitali anymore. It would have, had it happened a year or two earlier, perhaps; but by then he was so used to being held at gunpoint- by his own family, even- it no longer got the desired reaction out of him.

Sometimes it worked in his favor; acting nearly disinterested to the point his enemies would panic and lose focus. Yet he knew it was not always safe, well aware his reckless nonchalance could easily get him killed, with the right- well, wrong- person behind the trigger.

‘Put down the gun,’ he quietly said, continuing to speak in Russian and gently reaching a single hand closer to Roksana; but in response, she simply put a step forward and readjusted her aim, still wearing that same, calm expression on her face.

‘I’m not stupid.’

‘I know- but I’m not stupid either. You won’t use that. Father wants me alive for now.’

Bluff, perhaps. But Vitali simply went by what he knew, which is that Matvey had not wanted to kill him in any of their previous encounters- and just wanted to ruin his life instead, take everything away from him and leave him entirely to his own devices.

And it seemed to work. Roksana blinked a few times, her jaw painfully clenched as the gun swayed from the left to the right a little. Her finger loosened around the trigger- Vitali could step forward, dodge out of her line of fire and forcefully take the gun from her to stop her from firing it-

But it was not even necessary. Roksana lowered the gun before he could even finish his thought.

‘What are you doing, Roksana?’ Vitali asked, the words leaving his mouth with a big sigh of relief and he noticed that Mikhail too finally relaxed, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the wall. ‘Why did he send you? What are you doing here?’

‘To run his errands.’ Roksana scoffed and gestured around the room with her gun, before putting it back in its holster. ‘Sounds familiar to you?’

Exactly what Vitali had feared. He had to hand it to his father, it’d been a clever move; Vitali had always had a weakness for his baby sister.

‘He wants you to end up all by yourself,’ she continued, slowly wandering over to one of the windows to stare outside. It had started to rain, some minutes ago; the entire sky had turned a nasty, greenish gray within only a matter of time. ‘So- he sent me here, to take care of that.’

Vitali hadn’t expected anything else.

It made sense; the way she had spoken about him to others, the way she had tried to create an even bigger distance between him and his mercenaries; further the doubts people already had about him since the city-wide attacks Matvey had caused, or in some cases already since he had been brainwashed by Arasaka.

‘He severely underestimates us,’ Mikhail suddenly spoke up, pushing himself away from the wall and shooting Roksana a glare from between the loose strands of his hair covering his forehead.

‘Oh, I know.’ Roksana briefly glanced over her shoulder and shot him a sarcastic smile. ‘I’ve seen more than enough here. Knew after less than one day I would not be able to get anyone to turn on my brother.’

‘Then why did you stay?’

Vitali knew exactly why she had stayed.

Still obsessed with Mikhail, after all those years. Possibly a product of the fact she had been locked at home with barely anywhere to go, while Vitali had been able to visit Mikhail whenever he pleased; perhaps Mikhail resembled freedom to her, and many years later she was still chasing that high.

Or perhaps she truly believed he would be interested in her romantically.

Revenge. A funny thing.

Matvey pulling the strings from his throne, carefully orchestrating Vitali’s downfall; yet he had unknowingly surrounded himself with people carrying their own agenda. Dupoint- playing the game of chess with Vincent rather than Vitali, to get revenge for losing his job because of him. And now Roksana- ignoring her father’s command and sticking around for her own interest instead-

Either way, it didn’t matter. Vitali straightened his back and glanced at Mikhail again, who was no longer looking at either of them and instead focused on the floor underneath his feet, arms tightly crossed in front of his chest.

Vitali should’ve just sent her away when she had first walked in his office.

‘You need to get out of there,’ he quietly said, eyes still on Mikhail as he took a few steps closer to his sister and reached out to place a hesitant hand on her shoulder. ‘You said it yourself- he’s using you. You’re just a pawn for him to move around however he pleases, like he’s doing with everyone else around him!’

‘And where do I go?’ Roksana cut him off, and she turned around so suddenly it caused him to pull back his hand as if he had accidentally touched a burning hot stove.

‘I have no one left, Vito,’ she said, her voice barely stable now that her calm demeanor had finally dropped. ‘You left. Danya left. And now-? Now it’s just me with them!’

‘I had to get out of there,’ Vitali snapped back before he could stop the words from leaving his mouth. ‘Had I stayed any longer- who knows what would’ve happened-’

‘So instead you decide to cut us out of your life?’

‘I did not do that- mother did!’

He had not even realized he’d raised his voice.

Deafening silence washed over the room and a nearly pained exhale left Vitali’s chest as he stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. He was shaking- one of his fingers got tangled up in a knot and he ripped it loose by accident, the sudden sharp pain almost causing him to flinch.

‘I have nowhere to go,’ Roksana coldly said in English, crossing her arms defensively in front of her chest. ‘If I leave now I will lose everything. I cannot afford that.’

Vitali understood.

Of course he did.

When he had moved out, he had lost everything. His family. His best friend. His savings had run out and after getting fired at job after job after job because they’d offered him zero accommodations for his disabilities, he’d had to turn to sex work to be able to finish his education- and even that had been barely enough to live from.

For a little over four years he had been barely living, barely surviving- and he would not wish a life like that on his worst enemy, let alone his own sister.

‘Can you- stay out of this situation, at least?’ Vitali quietly asked, stumbling back until his back found the table, and he carefully sat himself down on top. ‘Make up a lie if you have to- tell him I threatened you, that it is not safe for you to come home now, then stay in a hotel until everything is back to normal-’

‘What?’

‘- But please, don’t get yourself involved even more in all of this. I don’t- I don’t want-’

His voice faltered.

He had begged Daniil to help him, and now he was begging for Roksana to leave. His head hurt- of course his brother hadn’t wanted to help him after so many years, and of course his sister hadn’t just shown up to do that either.

Nausea bubbled up in his stomach and he inhaled sharply, avoiding eye contact with Roksana when she turned to him and walked over. She reached out for him- and gently took his wrist, to get his attention again.

‘If I tell him that,’ Roksana said, gently squeezing Vitali’s wrist, ‘if I tell him you threatened my life. What will become of this city? What will become of you?’

Why do you care?

He didn’t ask it out loud.

‘I don’t care,’ he plainly answered, once again avoiding eye contact with her and instead glancing in Mikhail’s direction. ‘It can’t get much worse than it already is.’

It could easily get much, much worse, and he knew that. Worst case scenarios played out in his brain at almost every hour of the day, haunting him even in his sleep- but in that moment he truly did not care. If anything, Roksana telling Matvey such a thing would hopefully cause him to pick up the pace again, so they could simply just get it all over with.

‘I… I will figure something out,’ Roksana finally said, letting go of Vitali’s wrist and sucking in a deep breath. ‘But I am not throwing you to the wolves.’

Opinions and loyalties all over the place. Truly a daughter of her mother.

‘Why?’ Vitali asked, watching her walk back to the chair she had hung her jacket on.

‘Because you’re letting me walk away.’ Roksana grabbed her jacket and slowly put it on, her eyes finding Vitali’s and she shrugged. ‘Makes us even.’

Fair enough.

Vitali didn’t question it further.

Silence washed over the room while Roksana checked her reflection in the window and ran a hand through her hair, before turning back to look at Mikhail one more time. Vitali clenched his jaw and readied himself- but it was not necessary, as his sister visibly swallowed her words and turned away instead, to walk past him toward the door of the room.

‘Roksana.’

She stopped in her tracks, head tilting up toward the ceiling in exasperation before she glanced over her shoulder.

‘Do you know where mother is?’

The question had left Vitali’s lips before he could stop himself.

He noticed Mikhail shaking his head from the corner of his eye, but he paid him no mind; he knew very well he would have to come face to face with Nadya at some point anyway- and the sooner he would get that over with, the better.

‘Yes,’ Roksana slowly answered, one eyebrow raised as she slowly turned back around again. ‘Why?’

Vitali did not answer her.

She stared at him for a while, eyes slowly moving over his expression until she realized he was not going to speak- or perhaps she looked right through his blank stare and knew exactly why he was asking that of her. A scoff left her lips and she rolled her eyes, fixing her gaze on something on the ceiling and tightly clenching her jaw before shaking her head.

‘You are out of your fucking mind, you know that?’ she said. ‘Megabuilding H11, twentieth floor. Blue door at the end of the hallway.’

A safehouse.

Hidden away far from Night City, far from the rest of the world, waiting for it all to blow over- or a well-secured control room, from where she pulled on everyone’s strings, controlling the situation from the shadows-

Vitali shook the thoughts out of his head. Not the time for speculations.

‘If anything happens to her-’ Roksana suddenly said, taking a few rapid steps closer to her brother, but Vitali cut her off before she could finish her sentence.

‘I won’t hurt her,’ he said, ‘I’m not like that. You know that.’

Another silence as they stared at one another- and Roksana finally lowered her gaze with a single, sharp nod. A last glance into the room, and she turned around on her heels, making her way back to the door.

Another family member walking away from him. Vitali averted his gaze and looked out of the window instead, vision blurring slightly from involuntary tears.

He’d had hope again, for a moment. When Roksana had arrived, when she had hugged him in his office- just for a little while, he had truly believed that- that she-

‘I’ll see you around,’ he quietly said, glancing back at Roksana, who was about to close the door behind her. She scoffed softly and slightly turned her head, not even looking Vitali in the eyes as she spoke one last time-

‘Preferably not.’

#nuclearwriting #rbs much appreciated :) <3 #chapter 11 babeeey i hope you guys like this one!!#it's a bit all over the place because i was planning on making this a few chapters long #but that would've become boring rather quickly so i decided to put it all in one chapter but that means some bits are missing #i'll address some parts in next chapter to like. bring it full circle but until then you'll just have to accept this humble offering SHGJFH #but yeah let me know what you guys think i'm very excited to see everyone's thoughts!! :D #ch:the broker

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bumblingbabooshka · 2 years

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Tuvok and B’Elanna being adorable - More like Best Case Scenario amiright?

#Tuvok #B'Elanna #tuvok cam #HEHEHEHE guy who is annoyed and girl who is excited #she'ssooocute <3 romance girl #Tom: And what if Janeway was EVIL??? / Tuvok: I'll kill you.#Tuvok is so annoying I lovehimIlovehimIlovehim #Tuvok: I'm not going to write this v_v -sees Tom is writing it- You're writing it WRONG. I'm going to help you since you're so awful.#Neelix: I have a comment about the Neelix character.#Tuvok: How Surprising. =_= <- literally just blatant sarcasm <3<3 not even coded or oblique #HHHEE TUVOK YOU WROTE HIM SO MEANLY PLEASE #Tuvok: -having just written Neelix as a coward with no morals willing to betray anyone at the first sign of trouble- What's the issue??#Veeery in character Tuvok hHEHEHE...no personal bias there at all #no personal bias in the fact you wrote Chakotay being more mad about you then about Janeway either I'm SURE <3 #early seasons Voyager my beloved I love how they're just fucking goofing around up there #'Need I Remind You - That It Was /I/ Who First Began The Scenario?' hehehe Tom PLEASE let Tuvok play with you you're being so mean~!!!#Tuvok: We need to make a detailed outline of the next chapters v_v / Tom: I'm just gonna make it up.#Tuvok: WE CANNOT PROCEED WITHOUT A CAREFULLY CONSTRUCTED OUTLINE. <- autism moments. Make an OUTLINE. TOM.#he does a funny thing with his hands after Tom refuses again to let him work on the holodeck - it looks almost like he tries to #do his meditative pose but then remembers he's holding his PADD and stops....autism moments #Tom and Tuvok fighting like kids is so funny. When Tom tries to write more and Tuvok's LOCKED it HEHEHEHH #SNRKEHEHEHEHEH TAND THEN SESKA SHOWS UP!!! Ohmygoodness...Ifucking love this it's so unserious #They should have kept Seska as an ongoing like scooby doo villain where halfway through any given episode she just suddenly pulled off a #rubber mask or stepped out from behind a pillar like IT WAS ME. SESKA >D and everyone's increasingly annoyed about it #they'rel ikeohhhhmygodit's Seska AGAIN -_-#like she just gets less and less intimidating even though she IS trying to kill them everytime and she almost succeeds everytime #st voyager

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kakusu-shipping · 2 years

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I am so sorry I am being so annoying with Self insert fanfiction recently but I don’t really mean that because this is my blog and I do as I please and also @probably-some-goat is encouraging me so you all can blame him.

Mountain’s Peak

In which I am the first of a future 3 total humans to climb the Himalayan Mountains in not nearly enough clothing

It was warm. So warm. Emile’s eye cracked open slowly to stare at a blurry ceiling he’d never seen before, or maybe he had, there was no way to know without his glasses. The bed below him was solid earth, a layer of scratchy hay separated him from the cold stone floor. He started to sit up, and a voice spoke to him from the corner of the room.

“You awake!” She chirped, too far to make out any details, “Good good.” She leaned over, patting the robes piled on top of the human in a makeshift blanket, “Warm? More warm?” She questioned, tilting her head.

Emile sat up slowly, glancing around his makeshift floor bed until he found his glasses folded neatly beside the folded robe that’d become his pillow.

With his sight returned Emile could finally take in the room. It was small, with a single roaring fire and a window currently covered by a long red cloth that spread across the floor. Over the fire place hung the humans clothes, his thick orange sweater, jeans, socks, and fluffy boots, all drying from the cold. Under the blanket he’d been wrapped in yet more robes, thin fabrics not made to keep a human properly covered in the Nepal mountains.

Finally, he turned his attention to the owner of the voice that’d greeted him. She was beautiful. An Omnic with big LED eyes in an almond shape with three sensors placed in a small triangle on her forehead. She was sturdily built, with a near solid armored frame that left no hinges exposed and cylindrical arms ending in ball jointed wrists and legs that grew thick and ended flat after the knee joint, all signs of an Omnic built for the medical field, built for precision and careful work, with the strength to lift up to 300 pounds of human and equipment if need be.

“Ah, our snow bird has awoken.” A voice spoke at the door, low and soft. Emile hadn’t realized he’d been staring at his nurse until he was forced to look away from her to the tall, white clad Omnic at the door.

“ma- MASTER MONDATTA!” Emile threw his make shift blankets off in an attempt to stand to greet his idol, or at the very least sit up properly. Oh he was just as radiant in person, sleek white plating covered the Omnic’s face, his shoulder and neck supports exposed as he appeared to be missing the upper half of his chest plating, along with the protective plating on both arms, exposing the wires that would act as a nerves system that allowed the Omnic to reach out to Emile and put him back to rest.

“Easy now, little one, you must rest.” Mondatta spoke calmly as he sat on his knees beside the humble little human, who couldn’t stop shaking in his presence, “Reya has told me you are suffering a rather sever case of frostbite, it would be best if you remained still for a while.” He calmed, taking Emile’s hands into his own. The young human stared at his finger joints as they wrapped around his fleshy palm, watched his thumb smooth over his knuckles.

“Aoita making hot food. I go check.” The nurse, who Emile assumed to be Reya, patted Mondatta’s shoulder as she stood and began her way to the door, before tuning to motion to a kettle in the fire, “Hot water, rag, gently.” She made a motion of wiping her hands, and then she was gone out the door and around the corner, off to the kitchen to check on Aoita.

Mondatta gently pulled the kettle from the fire, unaffected by the metal’s obvious heat as he poured the boiling water into a bowl near by and dipped a rag into it. Gently, one by one, the Omnic massaged warmth by into Emile’s frosted finger tips, encouraging his blood to flow naturally by running circles on the human’s palm with his thumb as he gently wrapped each finger in the damp part of the cloth before drying them back off.

“Where did you come from, child? You are not from the village outside our monastery, nor the one at the base of the mountain.” Mondatta asked after a moment, Emile barely caught his words, instead mesmerized by the monk’s skills.

“Ah.. K-Kentcuky, sir... America..” Emile answered honestly, still staring at the joints in the Omnic’s fingers.

“That is quiet a long way to travel. What brings you here? Vacation with your family?”

It became apparent then that Mondatta assumed Emile to be a lost child, which was perhaps a fair assumption, as the human was only just barely 15, and looked much smaller than others his age.

“N-No sir! I came here to- to meet you!” Emile took his hand from Mondatta’s, looking the monk in the face. As he took a deep breath to build up his courage, “I- I want- I want you to take me as your student!” Emile declared as much as he could with his shaking voice and pounding heart. He gripped tightly to the collar of his robe to hold himself steady, it felt as though he needed to hold his chest, lest his heart escape. “My- My parents are.. A-Anti-Omnic, sir.. They don’t believe in your cause... But I do! And I want to support you! I want to offer you my aid and- And learn from you!”

“Your aid?” Mondatta tilted his head in curiosity, “What exactly are you attempting to offer me, child?”

“I- I grew up in a machine shop, sir. My father’s life work revolved around Omnics; Making them, repairing them. Even after the crisis we stayed afloat but running a repair shop, gr-granted only for.. Omnics who where... o..owned...” Emile felt the shame of his upbringing sink in, the grip on his robes tightened, “I-I’ve never met an Omnic I couldn’t repair! I’ve memorized every assembly book my father owned, I know I could fix and- And heal any damage that could come your way, sir, so- So please,” Emile bowed his head to the monk before him, holding tightly to his collar, “T-Take me as your student. I want to help you make a peaceful world between our kind.”

Mondatta stared at the top of Emile’s head for a moment, pondering his offer. The correct choice would be to call the authorities and send the child home. He was a minor, most likely here without his parent’s knowledge, possibly on stolen funds directly from them.

Yes, that would, morally, be the correct choice.

Mondatta put his hand to his chin, and tilted his head the other direction, “It gets rather cold here at night, and you packed rather lightly.”

Emile sat up, “I saw advertisements for the mining operation in town! I’ll get a job and buy warmer clothes!”

Mondatta gave a hum, “We do not have food supplies here, and most of the buildings do not have any heating, or a furnace.”

“I’ll be fine! There’s edible weeds growing in the hills, and I know how to start a fire safely!”

“I am not sure we have a proper place for a human to use the bathroom-”

“I can hold it!”

Mondatta’s thoughtful facade cracked, the monk broke out into cackles, bringing the human before him into confusion. A hand, warm from hot water, with smooth joints and golden plating placed gently upon Emile’s head, ruffling his snow white hair gently.

“Of course you may stay, my student.” Mondatta spoke with a smile in his tone, “No job or “holding it” required. We take care of our family here.”

Tears sprung from Emile’s eyes, his entire body shook joyfully and anxiously. In a sudden move he wrapped his bare arms around Master Mondatta, pressing his face to the remaining half of the Omnic’s chest plate, sobbing out thanks and praise, promises to repay the monk, and the entire Monastery, with his skills as a mechanic.

After a long time of crying, some hot soup by a lovely Omnic with a thick southern accent who asked to be addressed “Aoi”, and a little more care taken to Emile’s frostbite, the human realized something rather important.

“How did you get here?” Mondatta repeated his question, placing a thicker, almost quilt like robe on the human’s shoulders.

Emile nodded, “I remember seeing the Monastery, the lights in the windows but.. I don’t remember coming inside.”

“Ah. That is because you lost conciousness outside the monastery walls. Brother Zenyatta was the one to find you collapsed in the snow, he brought you to me.”

“I see... Please introduce me to Brother Zenyatta! I have to thank him for saving my life!”

Mondatta once again hummed, this time truly thinking on it. Though Zenyatta was a member of the Shambali, he wasn’t as keen on humans as some of the others who wandered the monastery halls. In fact, he was rather against interacting with them.

Perhaps then this is what one could call an opportunity. After all, Zenyatta did bring the human in, as Emile said he saved his life when he certainly didn’t have to. Perhaps this is human was a gift from the iris, one to help set Zenyatta on the right path.

“Alright then,” Mondatta nodded to himself, confident this was a good choice, “Tomorrow we shall pay a visit to Zenyatta.”

#Emile's Writing #Self insert fic #Self insert Fanfic #Augh I've decided I'm cutting this up because I'm being too weird about describing Omnics I need a minute #Or we are simply going to be all day #NEXT CHAPTER #You all are getting a lot of fun Pre-Peace loving Zenyatta and his co-dependent best friend Ramattra #When will this happen?#eeeeeeeeeeh we'll see I'm bouncing conversations in my head as we speak #There's something very novel about writing a fic where I almost froze to death right before a big winter storm hits my area #Ah I need a cool name like Zayne's story got but I've never been a naming guy #I'll figure it out later #Behold a little Master Mondatta teasing and me being gay for every Omnic my god they're so pretty #I need y'all to understand irl I have SUCH a bad habit of just #staring at people I think are pretty #And I mean STARING it's bad #I've walked into poles and tripped on side walks because I was too distracted by Pretty Person in Public #So take that and multiply it by however many Omnics are in the Shambali #Because simply put they are ALL PRETTY #I would be so overwhelmed in this situation irl #I think I did a pretty good job of writing how I am while also exceptionally overwhelmed though fkdlkgkdfjg #WAIT TILL NEXT CHAPTER I'M MEETING THE WHOLE SHAMBALI #3 Omnics drip fed one at a time VS The Entire Fucking Shambali #Oooooooh boy #Anyway sorry for the S/I fics lately I'm in a mood #I'm writing for me and me alone for realsies this time #to the Hunter X Reader fic in my ask box I SEE YOU I am coming for you SOON I promise #I just need to get this out of my system okay? Okay.

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ahatintimepieces · 2 years

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Now that the prince has agreed to let Mari exchange letters with her missing friend, Hat has her hands full with delivery! But even getting to hear from her friend leaves Mari feeling lost, and she’ll have to search for a way to show him how much he means to her and others in the village even without their memories.

#a hat in time #ahit prince #ahit florist #fey prince au #my writing #IM VERY SLEEPY #but these where shorter chapters to reread through again fhbdhbv im kind of relieved #anyway i hope you guys are doing great!#thank you so much for reading!#take care and I'll see you next week!

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cononeillbreastingboobily · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet/Israel Hands, Stede Bonnet/Israel Hands, Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Israel Hands, Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Israel Hands, Jim Jimenez, Frenchie (Our Flag Means Death), Crew of the Revenge (Our Flag Means Death), Original Male Character(s), Original Animal Character(s) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Desert Island, Introspection, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, Sexual Content, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Canon-Typical Ocean Mechanics Summary:

Stede Bonnet is at last a free man. Having just faked his death, he sets out to search for his first love - Edward Teach. Little does he know that the journey back to him won't be easy one bit, and will be saddled with dangers, diversions, incredible foliage and feelings that he never anticipated to wake in his heart. In the meantime, Izzy Hands makes a shocking discovery, and makes the difficult decision to save Edward the only way he can think of - and that includes searching the sea for a man who broke his captain's heart.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd fanfiction #ofmd fanfic #my writing #my fanfiction #oh my god hiiii :D #told you i would post it!#i was so excited to post the first chapter you guys #i'll see when i'll get to posting the next one #here we goooo

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claire-starsword · 5 months

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Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3: Wind and Light crossing the plains

The Pao Plains were wide plains in the northeast of West Rune.

In this land lived tribes of nomads scattered about with no fixed settlement. The name "Pao" was a word for their tents, shaped like upside-down spinning tops. They lived moving around with the seasons, much like the cream-colored flowers blooming through the plains.

But there was a big difference between the largest tribe in Pao Plains and the other, smaller tribes.

That tribe moved through the plains from west to east periodically with a giant machine, the Pao Train. It carved deep wheel tracks with its overwhelming size while serving as a merchant caravan, crossing the ocean of grass. That was a scenario only possible in those wide plains.

Bleu's group had arrived at the Pao Train. It was stopped at the western edge of the plains, full of shops lined up, selling ornaments and food and more from the east. While having their attention constantly grabbed by the tents of the foreign bazaar they weren't used to, the group headed to the car spearheading the train, where the queen was.

Armed soldiers stood guard by the entrance of the car.

Bleu and Wendy presented to them letters addressed to the queen. The two letters carried the signatures of Otrant of Manarina and Zylo of Bustoke.

After waiting for a while, an aide of the queen welcomed them in.

The soldiers who came accompanying Wendy waited outside. Of the people following Bleu though, not a single one stood outside quietly. They all followed him inside as if it was the natural thing to do.

The inside of the train had an atmosphere much like that of the dwarves' secret passage. The walls and floor were made of metal, and a light with no warmth shone from the ceiling. Two long tubes of different widths ran through the car's sides, connecting with the other cars.

The group walked with composure through the wide corridor, where doors to compartments of all sizes were spread out neatly.

Guided by the aide, they arrived at the doors to the room where Queen Koron awaited.

"I've brought the people of the Shining Force."

As if answering to their words, the doors slid to the sides on their own.

Though it was due to Bleu being there, all the others felt strange about being referred to as the Shining Force.

With her back turned to two mysterious shining pillars, Queen Koron sat quietly at her throne. Her young face was both calm and grave, and her voice was clear.

After a couple of questions about the content of the letters, she gladly allowed them to stay.

"Why would I deny a request from the Shining Force? We will be departing tomorrow, and taking you along to Uranbatol."

Bleu expressed his gratitude to her. Looking at his face, she seemed confused all of a sudden.

"Sir Bleu, is anything troubling you perhaps?"

He took a while to answer. "No. It's nothing…"

"If anything is making you anxious, I can give some small counsel."

"Bleu, Her Majesty is also a prophet. It wouldn't hurt to take up on her offer," Krin suggested.

"Though I don't know how much my words will help you. It's best if I am frank about this. Because my predictions do not decide the future, they merely point out a path to be taken."

She smiled humbly. It was a warm smile that melted away Bleu's tension.

"Then, I'd be honored," he asked while bowing his head to her.

Nodding slowly, Koron got up. Her skirt rolled out in waves from how it stood over the throne. Her arms spread out to the sides. The light shining behind her made shadows dance over her lavender dress as if it was a screen.

She raised both hands to her head. Her pale arms became exposed up to the shoulders. Her hair, scarlet like fire, waved slightly over her shoulders, back and chest. Finally, as if grasping something, she slowly brought her arms down. Still as if holding something, she placed both hands gently over her heart.

"Young Sacred Dragon…" With closed eyes, she began to speak, "if your heart is lost in the east, turn your eyes to the north. Your bonds are not to be severed. One of closed eyes and open mind might be of great help to you. At the end, you will find the true form of what binds down your heart. Something ancient will be lost, and at last you shall find your true manual. A new bloodline will start from there."

With her eyes still closed, Koron turned her head to Karin.

"Maiden with a noble heart, your determination will save many things, and then might save one more."

She then slowly turned to everyone else.

"You who follow the Sacred Dragon in his journey, time will save you from the flames, and in one time flames left unextinguished will save you. Within the flames, you'll find the book that should be burned. Unbreakable harmony will call forth the Shining Dragon."

Koron finished her speech, and opened her eyes again. But, she squinted at if facing a bright light. Her eyes suddenly stopped at Camallia. As the priest somewhat met her gaze in response, Koron said nothing.

"Thank you very much, Your Majesty. I'll take these words to heart."

Feeling that Koron was tired, Bleu decided to leave for now. He was struggling a lot to understand the meaning of her predictions, but figured he could take his time to unravel them.

He and the others excused themselves, and the queen asked an aide to give them a tour of the Pao Train.

As they bowed to her and left in order, Camallia felt eyes on her and stopped.

She turned around and questioned Koron, who didn't answer at first.

Saying that they would go on ahead, Karin closed the door.

"Do you need anything of me, Your Majesty?" Camallia asked courteously.

"Maiden of a foreign land, there is something I want to ask you," Koron said with a grave voice. The tubes of light behind her grew brighter, and Camallia narrowed her eyes, dazzled by them.

"Proud maiden, this pride of yours, who is it for?"

Her question rang through the room.

"My pride is for my own sake, and also, for those I love and respect."

Camallia answered with unwavering confidence.

"Then, swear on that pride, that you won't follow through with things you don't believe are right."

"…I swear."

While answering, Camallia wondered how far had this prophet seen through her.

"To them, you are someone very important. I hope that they too become important to you. Until the day you take back your true form, learn what you must learn, maiden of a distant world."

"Is that all?" Camallia asked in return.

She showed with her gaze how there were only the two of them currently in the room.

"Will that be all?" She asked again, and Koron gently nodded.

"How will you answer to the trust placed upon you?"

Koron threw the honest question at the girl in front of her. Camallia was forced to recognize who was included or not in those words. Her gaze went to the queen. Suddenly, she understood. Koron was using that person's eyes to look into that person's own mind.

"…I'll trust him."

Camallia bowed deeply to Koron.

"Please excuse me, Your Majesty."

With that bow, she left the room.

>To next part

Translation notes:

Yes, "pao" (包) is tent/yurt in japanese. Somehow I hadn't learned this one yet.

The color of the flowers in the plains is actually given as "bisque", which i did not know was a color, and at least six people agree with me that it isn't very well known. Japanese readers have the advantage of looking at the kanji and getting hints that it is a light orange/brown, so i changed to a more well known "cream" to allow english readers to also get by without stuffing their noses on a dictionary. That delight is mine only.

In case you didn't know or remember, because I always forget, there's art of Koron in the game's manual:

As you can see she was already good with the lightworks. The game says that she sees the future by reading the minds of the Pao Pigs they raise. I'm not sure that's what the novel was going for since it seemed something she did by herself, but who is to say. Also, the novel apparently extrapolated her psychic abilities, as she read the mind of someone else related to Camallia.

She's also brown-haired in the illustration as opposed to a redhead, but her sprite in game (shared with Karin and Krin) does have red hair.

Curiously, she would also get scarlet hair in the GBA version:

#shining series #shining force #shining force 2 #bloodline of the sacred dragons #shining force novel translation #sf bleu #sf karin #sf koron #sf krin #sfbotsd camallia #not many people showed up on this one huh #anyway i was excited to reread this one after knowing the ending and yeah #'flames left unextinguished will save you' is the part of the ending that broke me so look forward to that #i get to do my own ominous foreshadowing after translating all of these which by the way sucks #i'm confident about most of it but these final lines between camallia and koron are sooooo vague #if i didn't have full scans at this point i would have been in hell lol #the prediction for karin is also very ridiculous not gonna lie #'yeah she's the heroine' thanks??? we already knew???#i tried so hard to see any other meanings there but didn't figure anything out #i'll try to remember to call back to these prophecies as things happen #i also need to bully bleu as always #zylo on the very last chapter: 'cherish your allies'. koron: 'don't sever you bonds'. this guy: 'oh boy i wonder what this all means!'#anyway! next part is best part. you know what that means #we're about to enter the Song Zone

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homosexualcitron · 5 months

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It's the agricultural fair soon (WHICH I CAN'T WAIT FOR!!!!) i think i'll wait that to work on my comic again!! :))

#maybe our conventions are very mid (i loved it but the no indie merch artists is </33)#BUT WE HAVE BETTER!!!!#there are gonna be a lot of stalls (from agricultural stuff to. that guy who sell anime merch.. i know he's gonna be here)#and rides (i'm very easily scared on them and the ones i could do are for kids so uh.. i'll see)#and animals!!!!#it's gonna be so fun #also the agricultural fair i really miss is Miel Vert each time i went it was so fun.. but it's so far and going in bus is </333 uuh #and after that i'll work on the story board of my next chapter!!#that let me 3 days to finish my art trades which is impossible #but doing art trades during the story boarding is fine #it's a step that doesn't take me much energy #(maybe it's because they're. so undetailed)#(like yeah it's the point of storyboarding but i happen to have no idea of what i wanted to draw because it's just some random lines)#(and mostly don't even draw any character detail because i'm like “i'll remember who is talking here it's fine!” and hm. fuck you!!!)#what i was talking about already. these posts are too longs fr

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

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Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker. I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You think Miguel is avoiding you.

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point.

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it.

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow.

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.."

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here."

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?"

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?"

"I don't have time for this-"

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?"

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans.

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks."

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now."

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching.

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-"

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!"

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall.

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly?

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out.

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big.

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing.

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm.

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain.

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies.

"What happened?" He strains.

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-"

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye.

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-"

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple.

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile.

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you.

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?"

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does.

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now.

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan.

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact.

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-"

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-"

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-"

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it.

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?"

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?"

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to.

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts."

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears.

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down.

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning.

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before.

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now.

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home.

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time.

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear.

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?"

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?"

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?"

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me."

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me."

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard.

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes…

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate.

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you.

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding.

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?"

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?"

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?"

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?"

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?"

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters."

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word.

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface.

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head.

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla."

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning.

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?"

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this."

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you."

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#this gif is fucking crazy btw

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moonlight-prose · 1 month

Text

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett x f!reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #my writing

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visacardteamloverrr · 5 months

Text

ex's or not? cs55

summary: y/n and carlos once were the it couple, how are their lives after the breakup? did everyone move on?

warnings: writing this i was sick, i was done and i was ready to delete so enjoyy

i also was supposed to write part 2 to i'll be waiting but oh well...

y/njazzy

liked by lilymunihe, carmenmundt, and 65 000 more

y/njazzy Prague you've been great, next up my beloved Vienna 🍒

comments

y/nstan mother is GLOWING

lilymunihe music to my ears (literally) 🫶🫶

y/njazzy i'm blushing 😊 💋

alexandrasaintmleux i haven't heard you play for agesss, see you in Vienna ig

y/njazzy and whose fault it is?? clearly not mine missy

alexandrasaintmleux oh look at the time, i have to go !!!

chillis the post breakup glow up is reaaal

loverofy/n can we expect some album soon queen?

charlesleclerc exactly @/y/njazzy, care to share with the class???

y/njazzy i will not confirm nor deny

y/njazzy and lord perceval do not push my limits. besides, if you would honour me with your presence, you would know. the choice is yours

charlesleclerc no comment.

user1 she calls him the way that carlos does...

jazzychill she looks so hot in red 🔥

chillistan don't you find it weird that after all charles is in her comments?

y/nfan through all the years y/n was with carlos, she formed a friendship with charles (especially with carlos in ferrari) and other people from the paddock, so it's nothing weird

jazzlover besides, alex and y/n are besties, no?

y/nlos do you remember how carlos would always melt when y/n wear red??? because i do.

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, charlesleclerc, y/njazzy, and 2,093,728 more

carlossainz55 🌶🍔☀️

comments

soylago ON MY KNEEEES

charlosfan what do they feed our drivers, he and charles are soooo hot

chillis the second photo, two plates, carlos sainz is that a date?

landonorris and where are pics from our little golf tournament 🤔🤔🤔 oh, maybe they aren't here because YOU LOST AHAHAHAHHA

carlossainz55 cabron we all know you cheated.

landonorris what a sore loser we have here

charlesleclerc do you remember when we played uno once?

maxverstappen i wonder why you played uno only once

charlesleclerc lando almost lost an eye

landonorris I ALMOST DIED, HE TRIED TO KILL ME

carlossainz55 do NOT listen to them, those situations did not happen

carlossteponme Y/N LIKED???!!

y/nfan they actually still like eachothers posts, i believe they said something about mutual breakup and that there's no hard feelings between them

y/njazzy

liked by yourbestie, lilymunihe, and 64,728 more

y/njazzy new project coming up 🔜

comments

landonorris tell me who he is.

y/njazzy no❤️

landonorris and why exactly ???

y/njazzy i'll tell you, you'll tell oscar, oscar will tell logan, logan alex, and then magically the whole grid will know

landonorris you won't even tell your best friend?

y/njazzy you're talking about yourself or ?

landonorris PARDON #exbesties #friendshipover #offended

y/njazzy WAR IS OVEEEER

landonorris bye.

lilymunihe A MAN? A MAN? A MA-A-A-AN

lilymunihe girlies to the gc riGHT IN THIS MOMENT

lilymunihe avengers ASSEMBLE @/alexandrasaintmleux @/carmenmundt

carmenmundt i think we've missed a chapter here...

y/njazzy alex didn't.

carmenmundt excuse me !

lilymunihe SHE DID WHAT

alexandrasaintmleux tf y/n? i thought i meant something to you?

y/njazzy if i'm going down i'm taking everybody with me 😘😘😘

alexandrasaintmleux DO NOT QUOTE CHANDLER RN

user1 carlosy/nnation how are we feeling

user2 we don't.

user5 i have an idea...

user3 don't. don't give me hope

user7 fuck the guy NEW PROJECT IN THE MAKING ??? NEW MUSIC ???

user9 do i sense some movie soundtrack

liked by autor

user2 can you imagine

user5 Y/N LIKED !!!!!

carlossainz55

liked by maxverstappen, y/njazzy and 2,836,267

carlossainz55 getaway with mi amor

comments

charlesleclerc i pay my respects to her

carlossainz55 ¿disculpe?

charlesleclerc for putting up with you 😘

user carlos sainz jr i was NOT familiar

user1 which one of you bastards stole my man

reyesvdec ❤️

user2 APPROVED BY MAMA SAINZ

user6 i miss her and y/n together in the paddock

user5 that's y/n. mark my words

user1 i truly aspire to be as delusional as you

y/njazzy she's a lucky girl

carlossainz55 im a lucky boy*

user8 y/n's comment? im dead

user3 carlos' response?????? i am crying, the boy really is in love

y/njazzy

liked by carlossainz55, reyesvdec and 482,471 more

y/njazzy love. love love love.

comments

user8 our girl is in loooove 🥹

alexandrasaintmleux match made in heaven

carmenmundt you compliment eachother so well 🫶

landonorris you two are disgusting

y/njazzy jealousy, jealousy

user5 the luckiest girl???? i wonder why... maybe because she has carlos sainz

user ring ring, that's the mental ward calling for you

lilymunihe i'm heartbroken, how could you leave me

alex_albon execuse me? i'm right here??

y/njazzy lily it's just an act, let's run away together

lilymunihe i am ready to go

alex_albon HEY ITS NOT FAIR

alex_albon he can't even stand up for himself

carlosssainz55 he can

carlossainz55

liked by y/njazzy, landonorris and 5,839,821

carlossainz55 mi amor, you're the closest to heaven that I have ever been. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I promise to cherish you forever. I am so incredibly grateful for you and everything you do. I want to thank you for being there for me, even after we broke up. there is no one else on this earth taht i would spend my life with. you are my person, and I am yours.

comments

georgerussell mate leave something for us

alex_albon what I am supposed to do rn, lily won't let me in to our apartment

charlesleclerc gentelmen we are so finished

landonorris die lol 👎

oscarpiastri yk that they can see you crying, right?

y/njazzy my one and only ❤️

user can somebody check on user5

user5 I KNEW I WAS NOT CRAZY

user5 PARENTS ARE REALLY BACK TOGETHER

y/njazzy

liked by carlossainz55, reyesvdec and 171,729,819 more

y/njazzy the only ex i would ever come back to 💋💋💋

comments

alexandrasaintmleux finally the ferrari girls are reunited

y/njazzy not for too long

alexandrasaintmleux foul

charlesleclerc too soon y/n, too soon

maxverstappen i won't even ask about the last pic

carlossainz55 the less you know the better you sleep

landonorris i cannot belive this is happening

y/njazzy sucks to suck ig

carlossainz55 only ex i couldn't move on from 🫶🫶🫶

y/njazzy you flatter me

user1 the difference in the capitions pls ✋️

#carlos sainz x reader #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smau #f1 smau #carlos sainz imagine #f1 imagine #formula one x reader

1K notes · View notes

writersdrug · 5 months

Text

Training for Two

Chapter 3. New Trails

Masterlist

Summary: You and Riley take the beaten path to defeat boredom. Simon realizes that the seed of his new obsession has been planted.

Warnings: mild cursing, obsessive behavior

Simon had never told you how long he'd be gone - which was fine, your flat was only a twenty-minute drive from his home, should you need to do laundry or get more soap. You had some freelancing logo-design work you could focus on in your downtime, and Simon had been gracious enough to leave a note on the coffee table with the wifi password. Truth be told, you imagined this would feel like a holiday: no more shitty bosses. You were your own boss, here. You could make your own schedule, as long as you made time for Riley.

You soon discovered, after moving into Ghost's house, that it was very much not a vacation. The interior of his home was so barren that it made you feel like you had been sent to an asylum. On your first day there, you managed to get a bit of freelance work done; after that, you tried watching the telly, but you couldn't drown the heavy restlessness in the back of your mind.

You decided to phone a friend.

"What's Riley like?" Leslie said through the phone, which was tucked under your ear.

"Military dog." You replied. You were lying on the floor next to Riley, stroking her fur as her head rested on your stomach. "So proper, I've never seen anything like it. You know- when I made breakfast today, I dropped some food on the linoleum- she didn't bat an eye. Girl just watched."

"That's amazing... you know Donald would have run to it like it was the first meal he'd been fed in years."

You laughed, making Riley's head bounce on your abdomen. "Mum has got to stop feeding them real food..."

"What about the client?" Leslie said, changing the subject. "Simon, was it? What's he like?"

"Honestly?" You began, scratching between Riley's ears. "A decent guy, don't get me wrong - but bland. Gruff. His apartment is, too."

"Just like ya mum always said." She snickered. "Can I see?"

You sighed. "Nah, I never checked if it was ok to bring people over. Not sure if he'd appreciate me giving you a tour. But I'll ask next time if you can visit."

"That's fair..." You heard her shuffling around on the other end of the line. "Well listen babes, I should get back to work. Got five left on my lunch break."

You groaned at the prospect of having to be alone in Simon's barren home again. "Alright... still on for this Thursday?"

"You know it! Nina's coming too."

You grimaced. "Whoop-tee-doo..."

"Oh, c'mon, I'll make sure she's civil. Love ya."

"She'd better be. Love you!"

The call ended with a click, and you let the phone slide from your shoulder with a sigh. You stared at the ceiling, running through what you could possibly do. You'd already had a shower at your flat before coming here, you'd done plenty of work...

Riley tilted her head up to look at you, sensing your frustration. You looked back down at her.

"What d'you and Simon do all day?" You asked.

She sighed and looked away.

Maybe it was time for a walk.

"Alright, Riley!" You said, pocketing your phone and sitting up. She scrambled up at the sudden movement; her eyes followed your every move as you stood, her stare expectant and excited.

"Fancy a walk?" You asked.

She whined and yapped, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

You chuckled. "C'mon, then - before you and I both start going insane."

On your way to the closet to fetch her leash, she had nearly knocked you down to beat you there. You huffed, leaning down to grab your shoes and tug them on. She sat (im)patiently and watched, her tail slapping against the wooden floor.

"Alright, alright..." You laughed, grabbing her leash and latching it onto her harness. She obediently trotted to the front door and sat, waiting for you. You opened the door and stepped outside, confused when the leash tugged in your hand. You looked back inside and saw that Riley hadn't moved from her seat on the floor. She looked at you, ears forward and eyes eager as she waited for... something.

You looked at her, puzzled. "What's wrong, girl?"

She whined, pointing one foot up and thumping her tail against the floor.

Oh, right. Military dog.

"Okay, Riley." You said clearly, and she happily trotted out the door. You chuckled, locking the deadbolt behind you and beginning the much needed walk. She stuck right by your side, never passing you nor falling behind.

For the kind of gruff, admittedly shady man that Simon was, you noticed that he lived in a pretty nice area. If you told your mum where he lived, she'd blow a cap out of jealousy - the houses were neatly lined down the street, each one with a driveway and a small garden bed underneath the living room windows. Simon's was noticeably bare - Christ, even his grass was thinner than the other neighbors', how does one manage that?

You eyed his empty garden bed as you passed it. You wondered if he would let you plant a few things... just to liven up the drabness. A couple of Hostas, maybe some African Violets... you knew he wouldn't want too much colour, but he definitely needed something to brighten his home. Currently, it stuck out like a sore thumb against the other houses. Not to mention, it would give you something to slice through the boredom of staying here.

Eventually, the sidewalk led to the edge of a small patch of woods. A bridge stretched over the creek, which then led to a longer, winding path through the trees. You came to a halt, reading the sign next to the trail.

"Po-wee-hee-co park..." You mumbled and Riley stared at you with her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth. "Poeheko Park? You ever been here?"

She looked between you and the trail, sniffing the air. She licked her lips and whined.

"Suppose not, Simon's only ever dragged you around the block a few times, huh?"

She eyed the trail warily, but you could see her eyes brimming with eagerness and interest. You chuckled, reigning in her leash and starting over the bridge. "Time for an adventure!"

Simon sat stoically on the heli, eyes fixed on the wall across from him. His palms rested on his thighs, fingers splayed. He appeared calm and collected, focused on the mission that Priced had debriefed not too long ago.

Except, the mission couldn't have been further from his mind. He was thinking about you and Riley. We're you giving her enough attention? That was a dumb question; clearly you knew how much attention a dog needed. You'd done this before... but had you ever worked with a dog that had certain needs and medications? You never mentioned it during the interview, and he didn't remember to ask. What if you couldn't see the signs when Riley's pain was flaring up? What if you had forgotten that she needed pain medication?

He thought about texting you - but he quickly shut the thought down. He'd reserved texting for emergencies only, and he knew you were good at your job. There wasn't a moment of your life you hadn't spent around dogs, of course you would take perfect care of Riley.

"Honin' in, LT?" Soap's voice echoed through the coms as he took the seat opposite from Simon. He was relaxed, as if this was just another Friday for him - well, Simon supposed, it was.

"Always." Simon replied gruffly, focusing back on the mission at hand. He cleared his throat and flexed his fingers, trying to keep a cool composure.

"How's Riley doin'?" Soap asked. "Know I jus' seen 'er a few days ago, but- ye finally cave n' get someone to pet sit?"

Simon grunted. "'Course. Not gonna leave 'er alone that long, it'd be torture."

"Who'd ye get?"

"What's it to you?"

"Secret service? Ye snag one of the Royal Guards fer the job?"

"Jog on, Soap." Simon warned with a serious look, and Soap raised his hands in defense.

He couldn't tell Johnny about you. A fierce, possessive feeling in his chest told him not to. He knew Johnny had a thing for young, pretty things like you, and he refused to let you fall victim to his desires. In fact, he hated the thought of it.

But- who was he? Why was he being so protective over someone he barely knew? You were an adult, perfectly capable of making your own decisions. Why should Simon cockblock you and Johnny? So what if he wanted to shag you?

Mentally, he shook his head. No. Never. He'd lock you in his house if it meant keeping Jonny away from you. Even if Simon wasn't anything more than your client, he wasn't going to allow Johnny to get close to you. It would be too weird. You're his, after all.

...

Fuck.

He sighed and adjusted his position in his seat. You and Johnny didn't even know each other, for Christ's sake. He was overthinking all of this. You'd probably never even meet his team, why would you need to? You only ever have reason to spend time in his house, not on base. You just watch Riley, make breakfast in his kitchen, sleep on his couch, maybe his bed, if you're with the dog... using his bathroom, his shower...

He scowled at himself. Maybe hiring you was a huge mistake. You were too distracting.

Next ->

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Text

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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