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bts-reveries · 4 years

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mini me | 15

(ps, this is the written part from the last update)

“Daddy!” Youngjae yells, running into his dad’s arms when Youngdo shows up at your front door.

“I thought we were meeting much later?” You say, walking up to the two with your arms crossed. Youngdo looked you up and down and laughed. He had Youngjae in his arms, carrying him so they both looked down at you.

“Did you just wake up? it’s past noon,” He asks. You scoffed, turning away from him and walking to your room.

“We already ate breakfast and lunch, I thought you’d come much later,” you say as you’re walking away. Your voice was fading the farther you got into your room. “Are we leaving now? Should I get ready?”

“Unless you want me to take you out dressed like that,” he replied. Youngjae was also in his pajamas and he looked at his dad.

“Should I change too?” Youngdo looks at him and nods. “Can you help me get ready?” Youngjae asks hopefully. His dad laughs, nodding his head and putting his son down.

“Yay! Let’s go to my room then!” He yells, running straight to his room while Youngdo follows.

“Where are you taking us?” You ask as all of you were in Youngdo’s car. He never actually mentioned where the three of you were going.

“Somewhere nice. You’ll know when we get there,” he says. You purse your lip and nod. You look down at your phone, constantly checking if you have gotten any texts. Especially from Taehyung. The last time you two saw each other was all you’ve been thinking about. Now you know he feels the same way. But is it the right time? It should be right? A perfect man doesn’t just come out of nowhere. I mean, the two of you almost kissed! If it wasn’t for--

“Why are you so quiet?” Youngdo asks, turning to you quickly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You’re acting like we’ve never been on a date before,” he says. You scoff, turning towards the window.

“It’s not a date.” Youngdo tilts his head slightly.

“It kinda is. I asked you out, you said yes, and now we’re going to our favorite place. It’ll be fun,” he says, turning the corner. You gasp, as a park full of cherry blossom trees comes into view.

“Do you remember now?” He asks you, smiling.

“Where are we?” Youngjae asks, staring out the window.

“Mommy and daddy went here on our anniversaries of when we first dated,” he says. You were surprised, shocked even. “In fact, today would’ve been the seventh year since we dated,” he says, turning to you. You felt your cheeks hot and red. You had forgotten. You didn’t think it was something to keep track of anymore since you two weren’t together.

“It’s pretty here,” your son says, excited to get out of the car. Youngdo couldn’t help but laugh as he saw your stunned face.

“You forgot?” He asks, as if the two of you were still together.

You couldn’t help but smile as Youngjae laughed, kicking the fallen petals on the ground. He held onto your hand with his right hand, and his dad with his left. The two of you would swing Youngjae up every now and then, making him giggle even more. You loved seeing him happy. It made you happy as well. You couldn’t help but look up at Youngdo and see the genuine smile on his face as he looked down at your son. This was what you’ve always wanted.

“Remember that spot?” Youngdo asks, pointing to an empty bench underneath the trees. You smile, remembering the times when your younger self would be so head-over-heels with the man holding your son’s hand right now. The two of you spent hours sitting there, talking. Every anniversary, you two sat on that bench, eating a small cake he’d buy for the both of you to celebrate with.

“How can I forget,” you say, looking up at him with a smile.

“What is it,” Youngjae asks. You look down at him.

“It’s mommy and daddy’s spot,” you tell him. The three of you walked up to the bench, Youngjae instantly sitting in the center.

“I brought something too,” Youngdo says, putting a bag on the bench.

“Snacks?!” Youngjae asks, scooting next to the bag to peek in. He lets out a little gasp, turning to look up at you.

“What is it?” You ask.

“CAKE!” He yells excitedly. Youngdo takes it out and hands it to you.

“I thought we’d celebrate like old times. Happy dating anniversary,” he says with a smile. You laugh, taking the box with the cake inside from him.

“Yeah, you too..”

“I also brought you some kimbap Jae,” He says, taking out a container and handing it to your son. He was very thankful and excited, you were shocked. This wasn’t the same Youngdo you know, but it was the one you once knew.

“I told you you’d have fun,” Youngdo says, driving the three of you to a cafe. You three spent a good few hours at the cherry blossom park, reminiscing the good old days. You two had wonderful memories there. You’ve taken Youngjae there once when he was a newborn, but that was when your relationship was starting to fall apart. You didn’t talk about that though. You just talked about how you two were when you were younger. Before Youngjae was born. At first, you felt like he was trying to say how much better it was when your son didn’t exist but then he mentioned something that you couldn’t get out of your head.

“I’m glad we were able to take him here again, as a happier family.” Everything that just happened today was everything that you had ever wished for. You were happy, with your son, with his dad. It was how you’ve always wanted to be. A happy, perfect family. Your young self was wishing for this while you and Youngdo were blowing out those candles on your first anniversary cake. Then your second, then your third, all the way to the very last one you spent together when Youngjae was just a couple of months old. That last one was when you learned that wishing on candles was a lie.

But now you’re wondering if it’s just a late reaction.

“I did,” you reply, “thank you.”

“I had fun too,” Youngjae says, “I can’t wait to tell Uncle Cupcake about today!” You laugh, you didn’t think Youngjae could go a day without talking about him and this is the longest he’s ever not mentioned Taehyung.

“Tell him how much you love my kimbaps,” Youngdo says, looking at his son from the rearview mirror. Youngjae gives him a thumbs up, making him smile.

The three of you were now in the cafe, waiting for your hot chocolates to arrive. You each got one to drink. You sat across from Youngdo, your son sitting right beside you.

“We should do this more often,” Youngdo says, you nod your head.

“We should.”

“Let’s invite uncle next time,” Youngjae says, trying to get on your lap.

“You want Taehyung to come?” You ask him. He nods.

“He’ll like the trees. He can take pictures of them and paint them,” Youngjae tells you.

“Maybe he can come one day,” you tell him.

Youngdo was watching the both of you, listening to your conversation when your phone lit up in front of him. He looks down, seeing Taehyung’s name. He grabs the phone to read the text.

“We’re still up for tomorrow right??” Taehyung says, Youngdo replies.

“Tomorrow?” He says. Taehyung messages back about a painting, asking if you’re busy. Youngdo began to play along, pretending that he grabbed the wrong phone, thinking your phone was his. Taehyung didn’t seem to know that you and Youngjae were still out with Youngdo.

“Do you like hanging out with just mommy and daddy?” You ask your son, oblivious to what Youngdo was doing.

“Yes! I like it when you two are together,” Youngjae says. “I like it when Uncle Cupcake is with us too,” he whispers to you.

“Oh is that why you want him to come with us next time?” You whisper back at him. Youngjae nods.

“Okay, maybe next time, but as for now I think it’s good it’s just us with daddy,” you whisper.

“I agree,” Youngdo says. Your phone was now in between you two. You smile at him.

“So when should we go out again?” Youngdo asks. You were taking a sip from your drink when you shrugged.

“I’ll be busy these few weeks. I have a thing with Taehyung,” you say. Youngdo’s smile falters. “Speaking of, I’m supposed to come over tomorrow,” you say, grabbing your phone.

“Can you facetime him,” Youngjae says, looking over your phone.

“Okay, we’ll call him real quick,” you say, facetime calling Taehyung. You look up at Youngdo. “Sorry, this’ll be quick.”

“Hey,” Taehyung answers.

“UNCLE TAE,” Youngjae yells, instantly bringing a smile to Taehyung’s face.

“Hey buddy, how are you?”

“I’m so good I have so much to tell you!” Youngjae answers. You pull the phone to you before he ends up talking to Taehyung for hours.

“You can call him again when we get home baby,” you say. “Sorry for bothering Tae, hope you weren’t busy--”

“Oh don’t worry, I wasn’t. Plus, I’m never too busy for you,” he says, with a wink, making you laugh. You could see Youngdo’s frown from behind your phone and you try to change the topic to what you originally called for.

“Well anyways, We’re still with Youngdo,” you say, turning the camera to show him and Youngdo smiles, waving to the camera.

“Hi Cupcake,” he says. Taehyung waves back.

“Okay,” you say awkwardly, “well I just wanted to ask what time should we come over tomorrow?”

“I get off of work at 3pm, would 4pm be good?”

“Sounds perfect, I’ll see you then,” you say.

“Okay, I’ll leave you three alone now then,” Taehyung says, waving bye.

“Okay, we might call again when we get home, Youngjae is pouting right next to me,” you laugh. Taehyung laughs along, saying okay.

When you end the call, Youngdo looks at you.

“Should we have breakfast tomorrow morning then?” he asks.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

mini me

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ part fifteen: anniversaries ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

pairings: artist!taehyung x singlemom!reader

a/n: i’ve been having trouble making time to write this but i finished my work due today, i’m going to pretend for now tho that i don’t have so much english hw due on sunday

taglist: @heartfeltscribblings @taexmichi @prdshobi @smarshere @i-swear-im-a-soft-stan @igotarmyofarohas @butterflylion @miagracegrande @casspirit0705 @ephyra1230 @cosmicdaylight @bbyjoonies @betysotelo18 @strwberry-jam @rjsmochii @chocobetterknot @notmontae97 @alpaca1612 @yoongistruth @dragonqueen01 @silentlyimpractical @hecticwonderer @joanc24 @angjeon @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @sweetmoonlight9 @samros95 @dreamcatcherjiah @sonderkook @taekookcaneatme @listless-losers @kookietsukkie @goldenchemistry @salty-for-suga @peoplejustcanthandlemywierdness @softboyfriendtae @raplineh0e @ess-place @callmepaopao @ggukvii @ramyagovindraj @yoongiverse @mipetronella @cloudy-skys @jikachoo @nxtrogers @kookoo-kachoo @taestannie @hispoutylips @hallofbtsmasterlist

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

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hookingminor · 4 years

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close quarters (3) - andre burakovsky

a/n: hi! sorry it’s been awhile I've been in the middle of moving and it’s been hectic! I hope this makes up for it since it’s a little longer than the other parts! anyway, like always, please let me know your thoughts and I hope you enjoy some jealous!burky and friend!josty sorry this is like all tys im so sorry lmao

word count: 3,928

one / two / three / four / five

The next morning Andre was out before you could even try to make up for the night before with apology pancakes. You lounged around the apartment for a few hours, hoping he would be back after practice but when the afternoon rolled around, you gave up. You had your own errands to run, and if he wanted to avoid you, you could avoid him.

It’s not like you had nothing to do except sit around all day, so you began your furniture shopping. The landlord had contacted you saying the unit would be ready for move-in a few days before the lease started if you needed it. Had it not been for the, now, awkward atmosphere you’d created because you couldn’t keep your libido in check, you would’ve rejected the offer and waited until the first of the month. However, you’d fucked up whatever shot you had with Andre and wanted to get out of his hair as soon as possible.

Though it wasn’t like he was around for you to be in his hair.

You would have made him aware of your plans had he been home, but from the hours of nine in the morning to nine in the evening, he was nowhere to be found. And when he was home, he was tucked away in his room and away from you. For a whole week, save for the three days he was on a road trip, Andre avoided you like the plague. The only times you saw him were in passing as you took turns entering or exiting the apartment.

It was a careful dance you both performed, tiptoeing around as to not bother the other person just in case that night came up in a conversation. Which was probably smart on Andre’s part because you did want to talk about it. He didn’t have to feel the same, but you wanted to apologize and clear the air at least. The last thing you wanted was for Andre to tell Tom, who would tell Taylor, how you came onto him wantonly. Your cheeks reddened at the thought of being humiliated like that.

So, for a whole week, you’d barely seen him. You spent your days out and organizing your stuff for your new apartment. You’d ordered all your furniture items and had them delivered to the building, frequently running over to guide the delivery men through the complex.

All you had left to do now was pack the few things you’d brought to Andre’s and return your spare key, which you’d probably just leave on the counter with a note that said ‘bye’ since you never got the chance to speak to him.

Your last day at his apartment was filled with packing your suitcase and bags, making about fifty laps through the rooms to double check that you had everything. You really didn’t want to have to come back because you forgot something stupid.

But honestly? At this point you’d just replace whatever you accidentally left behind with something new to avoid another awkward run in.

A knock sounded at the front door as you finished packing up the few spices you’d bought for the kitchen. Andre’s cooking skills borderlined on nonexistent and it’s not like he was going to use the chile and herbs so you figured you might as well take them with you.

You answered the door to reveal Tyson’s cheerful face, one that was way too cheerful for before noon.

“Uh, hi, Tyson,” you said, slightly confused at his arrival, “Andre’s not here at the moment.”

“I know. He’s at Gabe’s watching the game. I’m just dropping something off for him,” Tyson answered, ruffling the bag you hadn’t noticed he was carrying.

“Oh, well come in,” you said, opening the door wider for him to enter.

Tyson walked in and over to the couch, resting the bag against the coffee table. You let him be and resumed your packing, assuming he would be leaving soon anyway.

“Are you moving out already?” He asked suddenly, tearing your focus away from the box you were currently stuffing.

“Yeah,” you huffed out, “I found a new place on 36th. I’m just finishing up the last couple boxes and then I’m out for good.”

“Is Andre not helping you?” Tyson asked as he took a spot beside you at the countertop.

“No, we’re kind of… not talking at the moment?” you said, though it sounded more like a question, “I didn’t want to bother him with something I can do alone.”

“Not talking?” He repeated with a smirk, “Sounds like an interesting story, please share with the class.”

“It’s not that interesting, I promise,” you chuckled lightly, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Andre, literally, never shuts up. If he’s not talking to you something obviously happened,” Tyson said.

You gave him a sideways glare to let him know you really didn’t want to talk about this, but he sat there expectantly as he waited for you to continue.

“I may or may not have tried to make a move on him,” you explained with a blush, “And it may or may not have been well received. And he’s been MIA for a week, so I haven’t had the chance to apologize.”

The smirk on Tyson’s face fell when you reached the end of your sentence and his brows furrowed instead.

“Wait, you’re telling me he turned you down? Burky? Turned you down?” He reiterated slowly.

“You don’t need to keep saying it. It was bad enough when it actually happened, I don’t need to relive it,” you muttered, breaking his gaze as your cheeks flamed even hotter.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just don’t understand why he did that. He seemed pretty interested when I asked him about it,” he said. That caught your attention.

“You asked him about it?” You insisted, focusing on the last few words he said.

“I probably shouldn’t—,” Tyson stammered, noticing the mistake he made too late.

“No,” you interrupted, “No, you have to explain yourself right now. What did you ask him?”

Tyson looked at you hesitantly, and he knew there was no way out of this.

“I, maybe, asked him at the golf course after we first met if he was planning to do something, but he said no. Then I asked him if I could try something, just to get on his nerves,” he added the last part quickly, “And he said no to that as well.”

“So he’s not interested?” You asked, dumbfoundedly. At no part in Tyson’s story did Andre ever say he was into you.

“He definitely is. You should’ve seen him, he was so defensive. I think he just doesn’t want to try anything because of your roommate situation,” he gestured vaguely to emphasize his point.

“That’s so dumb, we aren’t even roommates. He was doing a favor for a friend. This was always temporary,” you countered.

“I never said it was smart, I was just saying what I thought,” Tyson held up his hands in surrender.

“Men are so fucking stupid,” you mumbled under your breath. If Andre was actually into you and not acting on it because of this, you were going to kill him.

“Yeah, I can’t say I disagree,” he said, laughing lightly.

“Well, I want to be out of here before he gets back, so I hope you don’t have any plans,” you sighed, taping off the last box you’d finished packing, “You’re helping me build furniture.”

“You don’t want to talk this out with him?” Tyson asked, moving from his spot to help carry a heavy box you were struggling with. You dropped your extra key on the counter before scribbling a note saying that you had everything moved out.

“If he wants to be an idiot, I’m not going to stop him,” you replied confidently, grabbing the suitcase and duffel bag you’d stashed by the door.

You drove yourself and Tyson to your new complex, and you were thankful for the extra hands so you didn’t have to make more than one trip.

Using your new key, you entered through the front door and were met with the tons of boxes you’d been piling up for a week now. You dropped your boxes and bags by the kitchen, which was the only uncluttered area of the whole apartment. Furniture covered almost every inch of the main living space, and you were internally dreading the hours it would take to build everything.

Tyson was just realizing just how much shit you had stocked up, but it was too late for him to back out now.

“This is going to take all day,” Tyson said, jaw falling open.

“I hope you’re good at reading directions then,” you replied, turning to give him a wide smile.

The next seven hours passed in a blur, most of it consisting of you shouting at Tyson for misinterpreting the instructions and him getting confused about which screws went where. You ordered pizza about halfway through the day, which led to more arguments about what toppings to get, but you’d rather die than eat a five meat pie.

Once the last piece of furniture was complete, your bedroom dresser, you both fell on the couch in a sweaty haze, out of breath and sore from lifting.

“Thank you for your help today,” you said finally.

“Don’t thank me yet, you’re going to owe me a favor one day,” Tyson replied, letting his head fall on the back cushion. You rolled your eyes at his statement, but he spoke again before you could say anything.

“Actually, I know what you’re going to do for me,” he said, sitting upright to look at you with a devious smile. You raised your eyebrows at his proposition, indicating for him to go on.

“You’re going to be my date to the charity dinner this Saturday.”

Despite your refutations, Tyson made it very clear you couldn’t get out of the event. At first, he blackmailed you with the furniture building and that you owed him, but that wore off quickly when you stopped feeling bad about soliciting him for help.

He called you about four times on the day of to make sure you were still planning on going.

“I’m serious, Y/N. If you’re not ready to leave when I get there in an hour, I’m taking you as is. And if you don’t want to look like a slob when you see Burky, I suggest you be ready,” he insisted for the hundredth time.

“I promise you I’ll be ready. Now I’m hanging up so I can shower,” you groaned out, tired of his constant chiding. You ended the call and tossed your phone on the bed. You’d come to terms with being kidnapped for the evening, but a part of you still wanted to ditch last minute just to upset Tyson.

After your shower, you dolled yourself up, putting on the new dress you’d bought for the occasion. It was a form fitting black number, not short enough to be scandalous but still hugged your chest in the most flattering way possible.

Maybe you had gotten it with the intention of wanting to make Andre feel at least a little jealous, but that was beside the point. If he didn’t want to ask you out, you wanted to make him eat his words.

You were finishing the final touch-ups with your makeup when your phone rang once again.

“Hello?” You answered, not needing to read the ID to know who it was.

“I’m parked out front,” Tyson said.

“I’ll be down in five,” you replied.

“Wearing something presentable, I hope?” He said, voice raising at the end of his sentence. You didn’t answer him, deciding it was better that he saw for himself just how presentable you were.

Tyson’s reaction was everything you hoped it would be and more. He leaned against the side of his car, scrolling on his phone when he heard your heels click across the pavement.

Giving you a low whistle when he saw you, he tucked his phone back in his pants before clapping loudly.

“Wow,” he gushed, “Can I get a spin?”

You laughed at his praise and gave him a dramatic turn, flipping your hair for extra effect.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to impress someone,” he hooted, opening the passenger for you.

“Play your cards right, and you might get lucky tonight, Jost,” you teased, sliding yourself across the seat.

“In another life, baby. Another life,” he said wistfully, climbing into the driver’s side.

The drive to the arena took less than thirty minutes, but the time passed quickly as you updated Tyson on your new job and he explained what you were to expect from the night. It was mainly just for the big donors, much fancier than the regular events they did for ticket-holders.

He mentioned that it would be filled with inane conversation that bored him to death most times, but he’d have an excuse to be more lenient on the mingling since you were with him. You weren’t quite sure how that worked, but it didn’t matter much to you.

“Do you know if he’s bringing a date?” You asked timidly when he’d parked the car.

“The guys usually don’t bring dates to fancy events like these unless they’re serious about them, so no. It’ll mainly just be the wives tonight,” he answered.

“Then why are you bringing me?” You asked.

“What can I say? These events are a little boring, and I am in desperate need for some drama,” he replied with a sly smirk, and you knew agreeing to this was already proving to be a mistake.

“Great,” you whispered to yourself, “I can’t wait.”

Tyson ushered you into the vast space that was now decorated with a stage and multiple tables where the ice rink would normally be. Servers floated around with flutes of champagne, and Tyson swiftly snatched two when one passed by. Handing you a glass, he offered his arm for you to take, and you both made your way to the large group of hockey players who stood with their significant others.

Gabe was the first to notice the two of you join the group, welcoming you with a bright smile.

“Josty! About time! Everyone else is already here,” his voice boomed across the table and everyone else’s gazes flickered to the two of you.

“Who do you have with you?” Gabe’s wife, Mel, asked.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, introducing yourself and reaching over to shake her hand.

“This is Burky’s roommate that I told you about,” Gabe said to his wife, but everyone at the table heard. The few guys nodded in agreement, now giving you longer looks to take you in.

“Actually, we’re no longer roommates,” you chuckled, “I moved into my new place last week.”

“Andre wasn’t around to help her move, so I stepped up. She’s here to repay that favor,” Tyson added, making it clear to everyone there that you weren’t actually together on a date.

“Ah, I see,” Gabe said knowingly, and all the guys exchanged a look. It was clear there was something being said that also wasn’t, but you didn’t know anyone well enough to call them out on it or ask.

“I hate to steal your date away from you, Y/N, but us guys have to go do our rounds,” Gabe said after a moment, pushing his chair out to stand up. You knew he would’ve been whisked away from you eventually, but at least he was leaving you with a group of women who seemed nice enough.

Andre’s eyes found you the instant you walked through the doors. He would’ve been completely blown away by how gorgeous you looked tonight had he not seen who you’d come with.

You’d come with Tyson.

His friend, Tyson. The same friend who egged him about you a few weeks ago.

Andre instinctively stood up a little straighter, peering over the head of whatever donor he was currently talking to. Tyson was leading you to the team’s table, your arm wrapped around his.

How did Tyson even know you? As far as he was concerned, the only time he’d met you was that one day in his apartment. It didn’t seem like he’d gotten a good chance to talk to you that morning, and Andre doubted Tyson would be as bold as to ask for your number in front of the guys.

The donor was listing off some statistics from the season, but everything went over Andre’s head as he watched you mingle with the group. Only now was he noticing your attire for the evening: a tight black dress where your breasts were spilling over tastefully.

He felt his chest tighten as he saw Tyson’s hand drift from your arm to the small of your back. You tossed your hair over your shoulder as you took a seat at the table, and the other guys excused themselves.

Andre saw them begin to disperse into the crowds, and he took this as an opportunity to excuse himself from his conversation, hoping Z could continue on without him.

He maneuvered his way through the busy bodies, apologizing when people would call out his name to engage in discussion. Stepping into Tyson’s path, he cut the young forward off with a gentle, but firm, hand to his chest.

“Got a second, Josty?” He asked quickly, pulling him aside before he could agree.

“What’s up, man?” Tyson asked.

“You brought Y/N as your date?” Andre questioned even though he knew the answer, “I didn’t know you guys talked.”

“Yeah, well, I stopped by that one day to drop off your shit, and she was packing. It looked like a lot, so I offered to help. We drove all her stuff over, and I helped build some furniture,” Tyson explained casually, as if the answer was common knowledge.

“And you asked her here on a date?” Andre asked, but there was more bite in his voice than he intended.

“Is that a problem?” Tyson retorted.

“I told you to leave her alone,” Andre insisted.

“Why? Do you have feelings for her? She told me about the disastrous night you turned her down, so I don’t think it’s that,” Tyson recalled, crossing his arms for effect, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go talk to some people.”

Tyson walked around Andre’s tall frame, leaving the man to simmer alone.

Andre didn’t want to admit that Tyson was right, especially to him. Andre was into you, and he’d fucked up any chance he had when he panicked and ran away.

He regretted his decision the minute he closed his bedroom door behind him that night. He closed his eyes and let his forehead hit the door, kicking himself for ruining the moment. You were right there in front of him, lips plump and ready to be kissed, and he panicked.

Andre hadn’t expected that night would take a turn and that you would be looking up at him with lustful eyes, and he didn’t know what to do. He overthought the situation, and before he could process what was happening, he was pushing you away and running down the hall.

Now, the same point was being driven home once again. He fucked up. He didn’t kiss you, and then ignored you, and now you were here looking hot as fuck and on the arm of someone who wasn’t him.

Andre saw you leave the table and make your way over to the bar. Before he could stop himself, he was following you there, his excuses becoming even more short when people tried to grab his attention.

“Hi,” he said, catching your attention as you waited for the bartender to return with your drink.

“Oh, hi, Andre,” you replied curtly. You were wondering how long it would take for him to see you out; not that you were awaiting his arrival, though.

“You look great tonight,” he complimented as he fidgeted with his hands.

“Thanks,” you said, tapping your fingers along the bartop.

“I’m sorry about the apartment thing. I would’ve helped if I had known you were moving,” Andre persisted.

“You weren’t really around for me to tell you about it,” you declared, “And don’t worry, Tyson handled it.” Except Andre was worrying about it. He was worrying about Tyson handling you, and he wanted to not think about that.

“I’m sorry about all of that,” he apologized again. Andre wasn’t one to be at a loss for words, but it seemed he never could find the right ones around you.

“Again, don’t worry about it,” you placated, giving him a reassuring smile though reassured was far from how you wanted him to feel. Thankfully, your drink had come and Tyson had appeared at your side.

“There you are, babe,” he said to interrupt your conversation. His hand reached over to lightly grasp your hip and pull you gently into his side, “I haven’t seen you in awhile, I just wanted to check in on you.”

Andre didn’t bother to try and hide the murderous glare he was giving Tyson for pulling you away. You felt the tension between you increase tenfold, and you brought it upon yourself to break it before they started yelling.

“We should get going, but I’ll see you around, Andre,” you said, breaking Andre’s focus so he turned his gaze to you. His eyes softened immediately, and you could see the remorse hidden behind them. You gave him a shy smile before allowing Tyson to lead you away from the table.

You’d walked about twenty feet before Tyson opened his mouth again.

“He’s seething,” he said quietly, leaning down to say it into your ear. You knew Andre could see you, and you knew this little gesture would upset him even more.

“Good,” you said happily. It was only fair he suffered a little bit if he was going to be a dumbass.

“I’m going to get my ass kicked at practice on Monday,” he muttered.

“I bet if we leave now he’ll be even more furious,” you suggested, turning to give him a pleading look.

“You really want me dead, huh?” Tyson chuckled, steering you towards the front entrance.

“Hey, it was your idea to bring me. This is on you,” you emphasized.

“I know, I’m hoping I don’t regret it,” he sighed, “We’re getting ice cream on the way back.”

You laughed at his statement, nodding your head in agreement. You’d had enough social interaction tonight, and the pot had been thoroughly stirred thanks to yours and Tyson’s charade.

Andre watched from afar as you and Tyson left the arena, his hand resting near your ass as he escorted you to the exit. Tyson stopped occasionally as he said his goodbyes to those who tried to talk to him, probably making up some excuse as to why the two of you needed to leave.

Andre still had a bit of time left before it was acceptable for him to leave as he had drawn the short end of the stick this time around. His hands tightened around the glass he was currently holding, blocking out whatever Mikko was trying to tell him. Andre was glad he hadn’t driven tonight because he planned on getting trashed before the night was over to get the images of you and Tyson together out of his mind.

#andre burakovsky #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #nhl fic #my writing #avs95

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

Any kidfic recs where they have a lil kid but not a teenager? 🥰 Love ya!

Definitely! Kidfics tend to be very hit or miss for me since child development can be very hard to get right but the ones that I do like, i tend to positively love and frequently reread

You didn’t specify a ship so I went with Stevetony, Winteriron, and Stuckony, but I’ve separated them by ship so you can easily pick and choose which ones you want to read:

Stevetony

Of Strippers and Snow Shovels by @betheflame

Tony has some questions about what Peter's dad does for a living after Peter draws an ... interesting picture about why his dad is his hero.

Practically Perfect in Every Way by @betheflame and @hogwartstoalexandria

Tony Stark is a lot of things - billionaire, former playboy, professional philanthropist - but a few years back he added two more titles: widower and single father. As Peter keeps growing, Tony can't seem to keep a nanny. Thankfully, his employee James Barnes has a solution.

Art therapist Steve Rogers is really tired of living grant cycle to grant cycle, but is wary when he gets an opportunity from his best friend's boss to be his child's live-in caregiver. He hates Bucky's boss. But then he meets the kid and then he gets to know Tony and then...

And then they all live happily ever after.

Rockabye by @bladeofthenebula27

Cute alphas didn’t appear out of nowhere to help ruined omegas. That was a widely accepted fact.

Tony Stark had always known his life wouldn’t be easy as a genius omega in an alpha’s world. But not even he predicted getting knocked up and forced to move to a small town in the middle of nowhere.

Some things can’t be hidden by @s-horne

“What?” Peter sat up in the booth, suddenly alert. “Dad, what is it?” He followed Tony’s eyes right to a man in the doorway of the restaurant. A big, blond and young man that even Peter could admit was attractive.

“Is that him?” Peter asked. “He’s young.”

“He’s 32,” Tony argued, though he was still pale and didn’t shift his gaze.

“Have you actually seen proof of age? Because he looks young, Dad. Like not that much older than my age. Have you checked his ID? There are some good fakes out there, just warning you.”

“Will you be quiet?” Tony hissed, lifting his hand and waving to the man. “He is perfectly legal, thank you very much.”

Peter watched as the guy lit up as soon as he noticed Tony, awkwardly dodging the lunchtime crowds as he tried to make his way over to their table.

“Hi,” he said when he reached them, a beaming smile on his face. He made a motion to kiss Tony before his eyes flickered to Peter and he changed his course, pressing his lips to Tony’s cheek instead and stepping away quickly.

Adventures in Babysitting by @s-horne

Bucky babysits Peter for the first time on his own. There are cuddly toys, tears, cupcakes, and bedtime stories.

It Takes a Village (or a team of superheroes) by aven_garde

Three months after the Chitauri attack, Tony received a phone call that changed his life. (Or, the one in which a group of remarkable people come together and balance battling villains and raising a child).

In Trouble Deep by @festiveferret and @sirsapling

"Whoever did this has a reason, and Stark needs to be with someone who can protect him. He won’t exactly be able to protect himself like this.” Fury looked at the baby consideringly. “No, it’s you, Steve. Besides, he likes you. Suck it up, soldier, you’re stuck with him.”

Tony, Please by @festiveferret

Steve is doing just fine nursing a painful crush on his most captivating client. That is, until his babysitter has an emergency and drops Steve's six-year-old daughter off at his work. Somehow, everything goes off the rails.

like-like by nanasekei

Morgan doesn’t really know Captain America.

And honorable mention cause even though it’s just a pregnancy fic right now, I’m holding out hope for a sequel with a baby:

Baby’s Breath by @s-horne

Wow. Tony’s mind went blank when his eyes moved involuntarily and focused in on where Nurse Rogers was pointing something out on the computer screen. It was nothing, really. It was a blob roughly the size of a jelly bean. The picture wasn’t even clear. It was black and white and so ridiculously grainy that Tony couldn’t see clearly.

Oh. Actually, the reason he couldn’t see clearly was because of the tears in his eyes.

“Wow,” he said, voice breaking on the short words. “That’s…”

“Your baby. Right here.”

Tony fell silent again, just taking it all in. That was his baby. His child. A whole little person living inside of him, ready to grow and stretch and make his body do all kinds of weird things. Nine months of his baby inside of him and then eighteen years of them living in Tony’s house.

Somehow, it already didn’t seem like long enough. Seeing it on a screen wasn’t enough either. Tony wanted to reach out, to trace the tiny image with his fingers and try and feel what little extra he couldn’t inside of him.

After a long moment, he licked his lips. Shit. He was having a baby.

“Steve would love this,” he breathed out.

Winteriron

High Noon in Sandbridge (part of the Nights in Sandbridge series and does rely on some of the other works in the series, so make sure you read those first if you haven’t already) by @tisfan and @27dragons

Life is pretty good for Bucky and Tony these days. The restaurant is doing well, and they’re happy with their little family. Then Bucky’s sister meets an untimely end and Bucky and Tony are suddenly guardians to a niece they’ve only met a handful of times. Their attempts to make a home for the bereaved child are complicated by Tony's mother, Bucky’s ex-lover, and the man who claims to be Billie’s father. But whatever her parentage, Billie is a Barnes through and through -- stubborn and hot-tempered and not remotely interested in making a life in the one place that her mother had sworn never to return. Will she ever learn to call Dockside and Sandbridge home?

Place in Your Heart by potrix

They try to hide it, Bucky can see the effort they all put into making him more comfortable, but Bucky isn’t stupid, he knows they’d rather have him somewhere else, somewhere far away from their home, the place where they’re supposed to feel happy and safe.

The Long Way Round by potrix

“Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore,” Tony blurts out in a rush. “It’s—I think it’s for the best. If we stop.”

It takes a moment for the meaning of the words to register, but when it does, Bucky turns cold, stomach sinking. “Are—are you breakin’ up with me? Tony—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tony hurries to reassure, reading Bucky’s mind. “You were perfect, Bucky, I swear you were. Are. This. It’s not. It’s really not you,” he says with a small, humourless chuckle, “it’s me.”

Bucky looks at the tense line of Tony’s shoulders, at the sad set of his mouth, the defeat in his eyes, and he knows it’s the truth. Or, at least, what Tony believes to be true.

Or; sometimes, people mean well, but that doesn't always mean they know best. Bucky and Tony, unfortunately, have to learn that the hard way.

Letters to a Soldier by CityofAngels

When Peter Stark, son of the famous tattoo artist Tony Stark, signed up for a program to write letters to a soldier, he didn't know what Bucky Barnes would change in his and his father's life...

Boys Will Be Boys by NotEvenCloseToStraight

When Peter and Harley can't stop fighting at school, Dad!Tony and Dad!Bucky meet up to try and figure out a way to keep the peace between their kiddos, but end up falling for each other instead.

Stuckony

‘Til the End of the Line by Avengers_Whore

“Steeeeeve!”

“There’s the lil devil now,” Bucky murmured fondly. “Lemme see ‘im.”

Steve laughed and nodded his head, walking out of the kitchen and heading towards the bedroom. He opened the door and sighed when their omega was nowhere in sight on the bed. He made his way towards their closet and opened the door, pointing his phone at the brunet curled up in all of the clothes.

Fennel Root & Super Soldiers by @betheflame

Peter hasn't stopped crying for weeks and Tony is nearly at his whit's end. Thankfully, Steve and Bucky have a plan.

Forging Bonds by Huntress79

Just when Tony thought that his relationship with Steve and Bucky is safe and stable, he learns of a son he apparently has. How will “his” soldiers react to the sudden addition to the household?

#alle answers #fic recs #Anonymous

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kaunis-sielu · 4 years

Text

What’s Next: 2

A/n: This fic requires YOUR help. At the end of each chapter there will be a bolded question where you, the reader, get to pick what happens next. In order for this fic to be a success you need to help me out.

Send an ASK by Wednesday 9/2 for your vote to count.

——————————————————————————

You give Bucky your number. Even if it goes nowhere you’re grateful to have someone who understands the stress of having their own business.

You’re back at the shop the next morning at open, thankfully Wanda can close tonight so you only have to be here until noon and then you’re going home to take a nap. A long nap. The early morning regulars come in, you chat with Stan for a while before the business people come rolling in. You hit a lull where it’s just a few older regulars are in the shop and you’re able to get a load of cups into the dishwasher and a new pot of coffee is brewing when the bell chimes again. You glance up and a smile stretches across your face as Scott Lang comes practically bouncing up to the desk.

“Hey! Heard your donation place is the shelter this month. Wanted to swing by and say thanks.” He says with a smile, Scott, his girlfriend Hope and his daughter run Crazy Paws animal shelter and you’d developed a friendship with the trio during your time volunteering at Crazy Paws.

“Yea, it’s been a couple of months so I figured now was a good time. How are things?” You ask before taking his order.

“Good, you should come by soon. Cassie has been asking about you.”

“Let me guess,” you say as you start on Scott’s order, “she’s found the perfect dog or cat for me.”

“It’s like you know my daughter.” He says with a laugh, “at least she hasn’t offered any reptiles since that first time.” You give a little shudder as you put his to go cup on the counter then start on Hope’s drink.

“Yea, I think the scream I let out was enough to keep that from happening again.” You say with a laugh, “I’m done at noon today and all I have on my schedule is a nap.”

“We’d love to see you.” He says, “oh, Cassie wanted a smoothie too. And can I get a half dozen muffins?”

“What flavor on the smoothie?”

“She likes that mango one.” You nod and get it started before turning back to him and grabbing a bag for the muffins pull open the display window.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s do two apple cinnamon, two chocolate cheesecake and two banana nut.” You bag them and hand them over before he hands you his credit card and you run it then grab the smoothie and a cup carrier.

“I was thinking, maybe I could try to whip up some dog and cat treats to give out here and at the shelter. It might help promote both of us?”

“That’s a great idea! We could split the costs of ingredients if you want!” That’s one of the things you’ve always loved about Scott, his enthusiasm.

“That’d work, maybe talk it over with Hope. I’ll keep doing my best to send people your way.”

“You’re a Saint.” He says giving your hand a quick squeeze before scooping up his order and heading for the door. “See you at 12:30! I’ll tell Cassie you’re coming!” He calls as he backs into the door to open it. You laugh and give him a wave.

So much for that nap.

Natasha comes in at noon and you’re out the door by 12:15. You’ve got the first week of donations with you, which you’re not the biggest fan of since it’s cash and you’re taking the bus but hopefully people will leave you alone. You’re standing at the stop when a motorcycle rolls up next to you, you don’t bother looking up but instead keep scrolling on your phone.

“You wound me Sugar.” His voice is teasing, “not even lookin up to admire,” your eyes meet his sparkling blue ones, “my bike.” He looks damn good on the matte black bike.

“Bucky. Hey.”

“Where ya headed Sugar?”

“Crazy Paws. I volunteer there and it’s been a while.”

“You wanna lift?” He asks with a smirk and a nod to the back of his bike.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all Sugar.” He says with a wink and when you still hesitate an older woman chimes in.

“Honey if you don’t take the ride I will.” Bucky laughs and shoots her a wink of her own and she chuckles.

“You pay her?” Ask him with an arched brow causing another round of laughter.

“He doesn’t need to. I’ve got eyes.” The woman says and you shake your head.

“Do you have another helmet?” You relent and Bucky swings one of those strong legs over the bike and opens the seat. He passes you the helmet before climbing back onto his bike. You strap the helmet on and slide on behind him.

“Hold on tight Sugar.” He says as you wrap your arms around his very fit torso, then you’re off.

It’s thrilling being on the back of Bucky’s bike. You can feel the power of the machine and you can feel how much strength it takes him to maneuver it on the busy streets. You’re not going to lie, it’s attractive and you get to the shelter much faster than you normally would.

“Feel free to call me if you need a ride home Sugar.” He says once you’ve returned his helmet and he’s climbed back onto the bike.

“Scott usually brings me home. They don’t live too far from me.”

“Okay. Well if you change your mind.”

“I’ll call.” You promise and he gives you one of those knee melting smiles.

You head into the shelter and are greeted by very excited squeals from Cassie who launches herself at you and wraps her arms around your waist in a tight hug. “Hey Cassie.” You laugh, so does the extremely handsome, light brunette haired man. He’s got a volunteer apron on over his jeans and fitted blue tee. You give him a smile before looking back down at Cassie.

“Hi. My dad said you were going to come by today! We have a new cat I want you to meet. I think he’d be perfect at the coffee shop.”

“Let me drop off the donation money to Hope and then you can show me.” Cassie nods and bounces excitedly on the balls of her feet. You move to the office where Hope is frantically gathering leashes up and when you enter the office she looks up.

“Oh thank god.” She breathes, “I need a huge favor.”

“Name it.”

“We just got a call about a dozen puppies abandoned and both Scott and I need to go. Can you stay here with Cassie and the new volunteer? Just don’t let anyone adopt any animals, keep Cassie on her chores and help the volunteer, uh, Steve, if he needs it.”

So, what do you do? Do you stay and help or do you go home?

Tag list:

@memyselfandmaddox @thefanficfaerie @patzammit @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @killcomet @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @dumblani @silverkitten547 @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @scuzmunkie @giggleberts @biskwitmamaw @paintballkid711 @also-fangirlinsweden @abschaffer2 @geeksareunique @lumar014

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calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Stuck In My Head

Summary: Anon request- Idk if you've written anything about the quarantine yet? Idk if you feel comfortable right because weird topic. But I feel like Cal has been posting a lot about his mental health during this and it might be cool to explore like living along side him dealing with your own (this was the worst worded request I've ever submitted I'm sorry)

A/N: If you’re struggling, please reach out. I think it’s easy to feel alone, especially now. But please don’t listen to the voice in your head. You are not alone. And you are not bothering anyone. In fact, hearing from you makes our day.

Content: Mental health awareness.

Word Count: 1.4k

And away, and away we go!

Melody stared blankly at the television screen. The words “Stay at home order” should have hit deeper. But all she could think about was that it was a good idea Calum had run out to the store.

“Geez it’s like a zoo out there,” Calum announced while the women continued to stare blankly as Governor Newsom continued his speech about his plans for California during these “troubling times.”

“Uh… Mel? Little help?” Calum asked, snapping his roommate out of her daze.

“Shit, sorry,” she apologized, rushing over to help him with the groceries.

“The news say anything?”

“Stay at home order. God knows for how long.”

“Shit, no wonder the stores were all packed.”

“Yeah. How’s this gonna work for your album next week?”

“Fuck…” The question was enough to stop his actions of unpacking the shopping bags. “Fuck..” he repeated. “We’ll figure something out. Probably last minute, but we’ll figure it out. What does this mean for you? You had that photoshoot planned, didn’t you?”

Melody nodded as they put the last of the groceries away. “Yeah, I’ll have to call my agency, and see what’s going on with that.”

“Well don’t stress too much about it,” Calum told her. “I mean, I know you. I know you’re gonna stress about it. But try not to do it too much.”

Melody rolled her eyes. “Yeah I’ll try not to be too torn up over how now sitting on ass is a contribution to society. Every introvert's dream come true.”

Calum chuckled. “I’m just sayin’. If you need me, I’m here. Same as always.”

~~~

Again, Melody was staring blankly at the television screen. The noise was soothing even though she couldn’t focus on the show. She hadn’t been able to focus on much in the last month since quarantine hit. Her job was on hiatus until further notice, and while there was plenty for her to do around the house, she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it the way she once had.

During the first week she had tried to settle into a routine to keep some semblance of normalcy. But as the days dragged by, time became almost irrelevant. Most nights were spent staring up at her ceiling, watching the fan spin in circles. It took effort to drag herself out of bed before noon. Still, she fought to go through the motions. But it was hard when there was no real reason to. While logically she knew she could get in her car and go visit her friends the way Calum had done with Michael, the excuse of not was heavier than her want. What was there to talk about that couldn’t be said through text anyway? She wanted to see her friends so she could go out with them. But there was nowhere to go out to. And it wasn’t like she didn’t have company because Calum was stuck at home just like she was.

Calum, she was beginning to realize, was the only reason she was bothering putting herself through the paces. She might be sleeping late and wandering around with a blank expression, but at least she was showering, wearing clothes other than sweats, and eating. So she supposed she could be doing a whole lot worse.

But Calum had been right. With the world quiet, there was nothing to drown out the screaming in her mind. Her thoughts swirled angrily in her head and the only relief came through sleep, which of course had been evading her. She had always dealt with insomnia, but having no real routine made it that much worse. She could be on the verge of falling asleep, but it was like the second her head hit the pillow and she finally closed her eyes, she found her energy. Only it wasn’t energy to do anything besides stay awake. Awake and listening to the thoughts.

~~~

Melody watched as the ceiling fan spun around in a hypnotizing circle, jealous that it was moving, unlike her. It had been almost ten weeks now and she was just as lost as she had been when this started. Logically she knew there was nothing for her to worry about. Calum and her were healthy. They all had more money than they knew what to do with. Groceries and other things were being shipped to their doorstep. There was nothing actually wrong. But no amount of talking on the phone with her family and friends, or taking Duke out for small walks around the neighborhood with Calum was enough to shake the feeling of emptiness. Like everything was pause, but it was only on pause for her. Her roommate had managed to stay plenty busy with his music in spite of everything coming to a complete standstill. And while she knew that had nothing to do with her, she couldn’t stop the comparison no matter how hard she tried.

If you need me, I’m here. Same as always.

“Even at… 2:47 am, Cal?” she whispered in the dark as she climbed out of bed.

She paused outside of his bedroom door, debating. It was late. He was probably fast asleep. She should probably just go back to her own room and try again to fall asleep. “Cal?” she asked, her voice low as she entered the dark bedroom. “Cal, are you awake?”

She heard the jingle of Duke’s collar as the dog woke up to readjust himself on the bed. Calum’s arm moved out from under the covers, patting around beside him. “Duke, go back to sleep,” he grumbled, still more or less fully asleep.

“Cal, it’s me,” Melody told him, moving further into the bedroom.

“Mel,” Calum acknowledged as he yawned. “Just Mel, Duke.”

“Cal, scooch over,” she directed as she swallowed her hesitation and edged herself onto his bed.

“Mel, shh. I’m sleepin’,” Calum scolded lightly, but he rolled over in his sleep, allowing her to curl up next to him.

“Keep sleeping, then,” she whispered at him.

Again, he rolled over in his sleep, his arm falling across her. He startled awake, not expecting to find a body there. “Fuck, Mel! Way to give a guy a heart attack! What are you doing in here? Some watchdog you are, Duke…” His voice lost the heaviness of sleep as he worked himself awake with his rambling.

Melody stared up at Calum’s ceiling, watching the fan make its rounds, feeling stupider by the second.

“Mel?” Calum prompted after a good minute or two of silence. “Everything okay?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Mmm, so bothering me seemed like a good idea?”

Melody rolled her eyes and pushed into his shoulder, his chuckle a deep rumble. “You said you were here if I needed you, yeah?”

“Course.”

“Well I need you.”

He shifted in bed to sit up against the headboard, draping an arm across her shoulder. “Took you long enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, leaning against his shoulder.

“You were going off the deep end before this started.”

“And you didn’t think to say anything?”

He shrugged. “If I approached you, you would get defensive, and retreat further inside yourself.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“So what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Feeling like a failure. Like no matter how fast I move towards my future, I still feel like I’m getting left behind somehow. Like what I'm doing doesn’t measure up to what other people my age are doing.”

“And with the world at a standstill, you don’t have the noise to silence that voice.”

“Exactly. I mean, I’m cooped up in here for days on end. With nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. And as much as I know that voice is wrong, there’s nothing to dispute it. And it feels weird to complain that I feel useless and helpless when I know that there are people out there who are actually struggling. People who can’t make ends meet even when they did have jobs to go to.”

“Okay, but that’s not how pain works. You’re allowed to hurt, too.”

“But I don’t want to hurt, Cal. That's the whole problem. I don’t want to feel like this.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“I don’t know. This maybe? To be held by someone I know cares about me.”

“Touch-starved?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well, good. So am I.” He shifted one last time to lay down on his side, pulling Melody’s back to his chest. “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. This is…” her voice choked around the words, cutting off her sentence.

Calum’s chin rubbed in her hair as he nodded. “I know. I got you, and you got me, right?”

“Always, Cal, always.”

Tag List

@frontmanash @goeatsomelife @flameraine @here-for-the-uproars @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @sparkling-calm @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession @gosh-im-short @aquarius-hood1996 @talkfastromance4 @itjustkindahappenedreally @philthepegacorn @boomerash

#stuck in my head #calum hood fic #calum hood #5sos #galcal irwin

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picturetoburnnn · 5 years

Text

Like To Be You - Gang AU (ch. 1) | Ashton Irwin x Reader

word count - 2.7k

warning - mentions of blood and death. slight swearing. gang AU

taglist - @songforhema @asht0ns-world @lukesflaredpants @sunflowerxcal @star-gazing-calum@cxddlyash @emomack @merryblueberry02 @kinglyhood @caswinchester2000 @babe-babylon @irwinkitten @burn-crash-im-ash dm me to be added

author note - this has been sitting in my drafts for about three months now and i finally got on a writing kick on friday and stayed up till two last night finishing this. hope y’all love it

It had been a long day. Y/N took two shifts at the hospital, covering for her friend when she needed a sick day. Then, after what was supposed to be a lovely evening to herself, her brother’s girlfriend broke up with him, and he required her support.

After everything was all said and done, Y/N didn’t get home until close to one that night. She dropped her bag at the door, flinging her shoes off her feet and sluggishly making her way upstairs. Not even bothering to change out of her work clothes, Y/N dropped onto her bed, legs hanging off the side. She was out before she even hit the mattress, ready for a long night’s sleep.

Or at least, it was supposed to be. She woke at three in the morning to a growling stomach. Y/N groaned, finally acknowledging her growing hunger.

“Fine,” she sighed heavily to herself, standing stiffly and stretching. “Food it is.”

What she didn’t expect as she walked down the stairs was to see a dark shape sitting on the floor in her kitchen. Beneath her, stair creaked as she froze. The figure froze, turning around to look at her.

He was dressed in all black, eating Nutella from the jar with a teaspoon. Y/N didn’t buy Nutella, but that was definitely her spoon. His eyes widened as he met hers, standing in a flash. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the dark trail of what might be blood on the side of his face when he snatched off his black beanie.

“I can explain,” the man rushed out, holding out both hands apprehensively, still clutching the Nutella.

Y/N raised a brow.

“...no I can’t.”

“Who are you?” Y/N rushed down the remaining stairs, rushing for her purse and the pepper spray it held.

“Hey, hey, it’s cool. Don’t freak out,” he pleaded.

“There’s a stranger in my house, in the ungodly hours of the morning, eating out of a jar that isn’t mine. I think I’m justified,” Y/N said as she pulled out the spray, clutching it in her hand.

“Look, I just need a place to crash, okay? I got nowhere to go, I’m unarmed, and would rather not sleep on the street.”

“Are you kidding me? Get the hell out! I don’t know you, and you just show up on my kitchen floor in the middle of the night? I think the fuck not!”

He sighed. “Listen.” He pulled his shirt collar down far enough to let Y/N see the snake tattoo adorning his chest. “I’m one of the Cobras. Let me stay here for one night, and I can guarantee you protection and compensation. Just one night.”

The Cobras were the most notorious gang in the city. They were known for being brutal to targets, but never involving or attacking innocents. Cobras traded laundered money, drugs, guns; anything and everything Y/N tried her best to avoid. But they made the big bucks, which meant whatever compensation he was offering had to be good. And that money certainly wouldn't hurt to be in her bank account.

She looked at him one final time, his red hair shining in the moonlight.

“One night only,” she muttered. “But you've gotta let me clean up your head. I don't care who you are, I will not have bloodstains on my sofa.”

“Deal.” The sigh that left his lips was full of relief. “I'm Ashton.” He held his hand out in a shake.

Y/N eyed it carefully, not making a move. “Cool.”

He smirked. “That's the part where you tell me your name.”

“No, this is the part where you get your ass in my bathroom so I can get the first aid for your head injury.”

His expression changed from one of amusement to shock in no time. “Yes ma'am,” he mumbled under his breath.

He passed her, carefully avoiding bumping into her shoulder. Her eyes followed him as he wandered down the hall, his mind reeling as he tried to decide which door led to the half-bath.

“Second one on the left,” she gave in. “First aid kit's under the sink. I'll be right there, don't try to take care of it yourself.”

He looked back at her with a sheepish smile before ducking through the doorway. Y/N's hands threaded through her hair, tugging harshly and she questioned her own judgement. Cobras were ruthless when they needed to be, and she was letting one sleep on her couch.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Clean off the blood, then talk to him, she told herself. Walking into the bathroom, Y/N didn't spare a glance at the man sitting on the toilet lid as she opened the kit on the countertop.

"Are you bleeding anywhere other than your head?" she asked in a monotone voice.

"My side," he answered lamely. "Although I think it's clotted by now."

"Doesn't matter, I still need to clean it." She turned, finally facing him. "Take off your shirt."

He gave her a cocky smirk, but one look from her had him looking back to the ground. Silently, he removed the fabric, revealing a violent looking gash in his side. Y/N couldn't help but stare.

"You sure you can stitch me up?" His question sounded cocky, but she could hear the faintest hint of worry.

"I'm a nurse, this is not anything new to me," she answered shortly, turning back to the kit.

"Oh," he mumbled. "Gotcha."

The pair sat in silence as Y/N worked on cleaning the area. Ashton winced as she accidentally dragged the rag against the open wound. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"'S fine," he hissed.

“What caused a gash this deep?”

Ashton bristled, not saying a word.

“If you want me to treat this properly so it doesn’t get infected, I need you to tell me what it is.” She really didn’t need that information, but morbid curiosity always got the best of her. Besides, she was letting him stay in her house; she deserved to know at least a little something about him.

He stayed quiet. Y/N sighed, ready to resign herself to silence, when--

“A fireplace poker,” he mumbled.

Where the fuck in their city was there someone pretentious enough to have a fire iron?

“Then it needs to be severely sterilized and watched carefully,” Y/N said, as if that wasn’t already part of her plan.

The boy hissed as she cleaned the gash with antiseptics, but was silent as his side was stitched together.

Tying off the final stitch, Y/N cut the suture cord. “There. All good. Let me see your head.”

Twenty minutes later, Y/N left Ashton in the bathroom to go find spare sheets and a blanket for the couch.

“I’ll drive you back to your place in the morning.” Ashton looked at her, shocked.

“You don’t have to--”

“You aren’t from around here, the Cobra territory is across the city. With your side, you wouldn’t make it there before sundown, and it’d be a very bad idea to sleep on the streets. I’ll take you to the Cobra side of town, and from there you can find your way.”

She made a compelling argument, one that Ashton couldn’t really fight against.

He didn’t reply, and it wasn’t until Y/N was halfway up the stairs that she heard him mumble “Thank you. For not calling the cops, fixing me up, and giving me somewhere to sleep and all.”

She stopped, hand on the banister, before continuing up to her bedroom. “You’re welcome.”

~~~

The next morning was odd. Y/N woke around noon, quite exhausted. She didn’t think about the guy downstairs until she saw him sitting on her couch, reading a newspaper she didn’t know she had.

“Good morning,” she said as she came down the steps, clad in an old hoodie and sleep shorts.

Ashton jumped in his seat, setting down the paper.

Y/N smirked, snickering to herself. She made her way into the kitchen, starting up her coffee maker and grabbing a granola bar from the cabinet. “Let me get my coffee and then we can head out.”

Ashton swallowed thickly. “Thank you, again.”

Y/N smiled smally at him. “You were hurt.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “You’re a lot nicer in the mornings.”

“I’m no longer hungry and sleep deprived.” She shrugged and he chuckled.

Y/N retreated back up the stairs to change into something a little more appropriate. When she returned, the coffee was done, and Ashton was back to the newspaper.

“Something interesting in that paper?” She asked with a laugh.

“I’m apparently dead,” he deadpanned, showing her the article.

Cobra Member Presumed Dead

A young gang member was reportedly wounded during a break-in in the East Hill sector of town. Outside of the gang’s territory, the homeowner Alex Kei told reporter Eric Townes that a red-haired young man had been rifling through his possessions. Kei claims the gang member attacked him once he realized he was being watched. Kei grabbed the nearest thing to him, his fire iron, to defend himself. Mr. Kei reported the iron struck the attacker’s side, gouging deep. The attacker, holding his wound, fled the house. If David Kei is correct about the severity of the wound, the attacker may well be deceased by now without medical attention. The attack occurred April 11th, just two days ago.

“That’s not what happened,” Ashton huffed when Y/N looked up with wide eyes. “Kei has always had it out for us. I was only--”

“You don’t have to explain to me,” Y/N soothed. “Let’s just get you home.”

~~~

The car ride was silent for the most part, save for the occasional “turn left here,” or “keep going straight to the next light” once they were downtown.

“You can drop me off here,” he muttered after they passed the train tracks that made the Cobra border.

Y/N looked at him incredulously. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around town with fresh stitches?”

He returned her wide-eyed look.

“Point me to your safe-house, and that’s where you can get out.”

The redhead hesitated. “Make a right at the next light.”

Ashton guided her to an old warehouse. “I still don’t know your name,” he tried to laugh through a wince as he unbuckled the seatbelt she insisted he wear.

“Y/N,” she said lowly as she got out of the car, walking over to the passenger side.

She helped him climb out, his voice quiet as he said, “Y/N. That’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” she joked as she knocked on the side door. “Got it for my birthday.”

The door opened, revealing a blonde-haired man even younger than Y/N was. “For the last time,” he sighed without looking at them. “This is not a sanctuary. Go find somewhere else to peddle for money.”

“Aw damn, even me?” Ashton’s smile was huge.

The boy’s head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief. “Ash?” he breathed.

“In the flesh,” he beamed. “Didja miss me?”

But Ashton's name was the only thing Luke could say. The younger boy held his friends face in his hands, tears collecting in his eyes. "I thought we lost you."

"Harder than that to lose me," the redhead quipped before pulling him in for a tight hug.

The two held each other for several minutes, simply reveling in one another's company for the first time in several weeks. Y/N watched with a soft smile on her lips. It was sweet to see this boy who had been so tough around her appear so soft with his friend.

Ashton met Y/N's eyes, as if suddenly remembering she was there. He broke away, albeit reluctantly, and held his hand out between the stranger boy and Y/N.

"Luke, this is Y/N. She let me stay at her place recently and patched me up, made me all pretty again. Y/N, this is Luke. He's… well he's the head of this whole operation, I suppose."

Y/N smiled, holding her hand out for Luke to shake. "Hi."

Luke looked at her hand, then at her. He made no move to grab her hand, instead pulling her into a hug as well. "Thank you, for bringing him home," he whispered in her ear, voice thick with emotion.

As they broke apart, Ashton demanded Luke's attention. "I assume absolutely nothing has been done in the past two weeks, since you've all been grieving and are incapable of doing anything without me." He winked, and Y/N wasn't sure if it was directed at her or Luke.

"We've been making Kei's life a living hell, but other than that… we were a little busy trying to find you."

"Well." Ashton held out his arm to Y/N. "Let's say hello to everyone, shall we?"

They walked through the door as Luke held it open, and Y/N was surprised by what she saw. She didn't know what she expected from the headquarters of the city's biggest gang, but it certainly wasn't this.

In the center of the room was a pool table, surrounded by four men extremely focused on the game. In the corner was a small shelf of books with two small chairs-- a makeshift reading book. It looked like a home more than a base of operations, and Y/N loved it.

"I've been gone for two weeks, and there is a serious lack of crying in this room." Ashton's loud voice rang out over every quiet conversation. The room grew silent, and everyone stared at the redhead in front of Y/N.

"Ashton? Oh my God is that really you?" A bleached blond man shouldered his way to the front of the room, leather jacket heaving up and down with his rapid breathing. The tan man let out a shaky laugh before running to Ashton and enveloping him in a hug even tighter than Luke's. Before too long, everyone had crowded around the pair, all wanting to see their missing friend with their own eyes.

Y/N watched the scene unfold in front of her with a smile, until she felt someone tug at her elbow. Luke pulled her away to the side, far enough that they could have a private conversation but still see the group.

"How bad was he?"

"I put stitches in his side, so he needs to go easy. No running or stretching or anything that could tear that. I don't know how long he was hurt before he got to me, but by some miracle it didn't look infected."

Luke's following sigh sounded heavy with relief. "You may very well have saved his life. We owe you. I owe you. Anything you want, tell me."

"Oh, it was really nothing," Y/N stammered. "You don't owe me anything."

“Listen,” Luke huffed. “That boy you brought with you--” he pointed to where Ashton was, hugging all his friends like he hadn’t seen them in months “--he’s like my brother, and I haven’t seen him in over two weeks. We thought he died, but you took care of him, and didn’t let him end up on the street. You’ve done us a huge service, and we are indebted to you for him. Don’t diss us by refusing.”

Y/N swallowed thickly, nodding.

"Good. You saved his life. The Cobras will from now on be your personal backup. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you come to him, you come to me. Cool?"

Y/N nodded again.

"Y/N!" She heard Ashton's voice. He broke away from the group and jogged over to her.

"You're not leaving yet, are you?"

"I--"

"This isn't really her scene," Luke cut in. Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but he fixed her with a look that dared her to continue.

"Y-yeah," she breathed. "I'm not… this isn't my kind of place. I'm intruding now that my job is done."

"Oh." Ashton visibly deflated, obviously not enthused with the idea of her leaving. "Am I gonna see you again?"

“That depends. I mean, you know where I live.”

“Yeah, but I was thinking something more along the lines of getting your number.”

Y/N smirked.

PART 2 // MASTERLIST

#ashton 5sos #ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #luke 5sos #luke hemmings #michael clifford #michael 5sos #calum 5sos #calum hood #5sos x reader #5sos funny #5sos #my writing

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avidfanficwriter · 5 years

Text

Failed Repetition (Chapter 3)

Characters: Chris Evans X OFC!

Summary: For as long as Chris can remember, he’s wanted to get married. He has wanted the white picket fence, beautiful wife on his arm and a house full of kids unlike his counterpart who isn’t thrilled with the prospect of marriage.

Rating: T

Warnings: Cursing.Mention of sexual acts/Situations.

Tags: wolflhards. @tacohead13

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4.

Take care, Reagan.

The note was ended as if they hadn't spent the last six years together, like they hadn't lived together for four years or the 'I love yous' shouted during nights of passion were meaningless.

The note closes as if they were strangers, two random people who accidently bumped into one another on the sidewalk. Distant, Cold and longing to get away from one another. This wasn't how two people in love parted.

Was this what he deserved? A note as a goodbye--In place of a conversation? No explanation. No speech. Just a discarded piece of paper left on the counter and an insensitive 'Take care.'

Twenty minutes after reading the note, it finally starts to sink in, Chris calls Reagan and leaves her a long rambling voicemail that says nothing more than, "I love you, please come back." in fifteen different ways. He promises he'll stop bring marriage up, that it's not even that important to him if it costs him her. They should talk in person, he says the first thing that comes to his mind in the voicemail and it mimics someone whose entirely lost, which he is. She's gone and he's to blame.

The pain hasn't set in yet, right now it's just pure panic.

He wanders around the house, searching for anything to keep his mind occupied while he waits for her to call back. Two hours pass and he sends her a text message:

"Reagan I love you Im sorry just come home so we can talk about this."

No response.

The house feels like it's haunted with memories of Reagan, every space inside the home reminds him of her. The counter where she accidently spilled her tea onto one of his scripts, they spent three hours blowing drying the pages so they were legible. The couch in the living room that looked amazing in the store but they soon discovered looked terrible after being brought into their home. The hole in the wall from when they put the paintings up, Chris slipped and in order to avoid hitting Reagan with the hammer he slammed it into the wall creating a huge hole; it became a great conversation starter. If it's not the memories torturing him, it's his mind tricking him into believing she's home.

Chris starts to beat himself up, if he would have just told her he was awake when she came home this wouldn't have happened. If he wasn't stubborn for just one moment of his life, he wouldn't have lost the best thing to ever happen to him. Even if he would have joined her in the guest room or carried her into their bedroom, this could have played out differently. They could have spoken, he could have prevented her from leaving. He would be exiled to the couch but at least she would've been home.

By noon, Chris had resorted to drinking in order to prevent himself from calling Reagan, at first it seemed like a good idea, he'd get drunk enough to pass out and by tomorrow she would be home. His plan was flawed, instead of passing out, he wound up calling Reagan again.

"I miss you." He whispers into the phone, his body slack and head spinning. "I do. I miss all of you, your tiny smirk when I'd say something smart, the curl in your hair you always fought to get out of your eyes; the way you bit your lip when you read." He exhales deeply, closing his eyes and holding the phone tighter to his ear. "I miss how you sound when I'm buried inside of you, those fucking pretty little sounds you make. I miss feeling your thighs shake around my head while you pull my hair as you beg for more."

Sober Chris had boundaries. Drunk Chris didn't care. "The way you taste, how you linger on my tongue hours after we're done and all I want to do when I come home is bury my head between your thighs again. Fuck, Rea..." He groans, palming his erection through his sweatpants. "I love the way your lips feel against mine, how your heart rate increases when I kiss along your collarbone. How your chest rises as I kiss down your body like you're on full display for me. I love that... I love you, Reagan."

Phone call number two, is less sexual but not at all any better.

"Do you remember when we first started dating?" He asks, glancing at the photos of them along the wall. "You told me you only dated guys that took relationships series, I told you I was one of them and you made this big schedule of things for us to do for me to prove my worth? And one of them was cooking? You made this fucking amazing meal, that stuffed bell peppers stuff and a homemade cheesecake and when it came my turn It was so bad."

Chris lets out a small chuckle over the memory. "I tried to make some chicken recipe I found online but I burned it. The smoke detectors were going off, the house smelled like smoke and then you showed up and I thought you were going to run. I could see it, this look of fear on your face." Chris shakes his head, rubbing at his eyebrow. "I ended up making eggs and we had to eat them outside because of the smell. Then you made that pie for thanksgiving to take over to my mom's and I burned that too. All I had to do was take it out of the oven while you were in the shower but I forgot. We should do that again, Rea."

Chris closes his eyes. "My mother would kill me but I always loved your pies more. Blueberry was my favorite." He clears his throat. "Do you remember that blueberry one we made for my nieces fundraiser and somehow we ended up eating it on the floor in the kitchen? My sister was so mad at us."

Phone called number three is mess. Chris doesn't know what he's saying anymore or what he's even trying to get at. Words are just coming out.

"Reagan" He starts off, holding back a sob. "I walked into the bathroom earlier and your soap was gone. I started crying... over soap. Soap!" He sniffles and lets out a small laugh. "I spent twenty minutes just sobbing in the restroom. I was fine when I saw you took some clothes but that soap. That stupid grapefruit soap you took and it broke me." Chris starts chuckling as tears pile in his eyes. "I didn't cry over the note you left, I was shocked but that goddamn empty shelf in the shower broke me." He voices slowly trails off into a whisper.

Chris wipes a tear that falls from his eye, "You're not coming back tomorrow are you?" He questions with a deep sigh. "I just...I just wanna hear your voice, just pick up the phone, baby. God, Reagan." He pleads. "if you just give me a second to explain...."

"If you’re satisfied with your message, press 1. If you’re not and want to re-record, press 2. If you want to delete and start over, press 3." The voicemail recording interrupts him.

Chris growls, "Fuck!" he shouts throwing the phone across the room.

There's pain ripping through his chest as the hours pass, all he wants is for her to call him back or magically walk through the front door. He wants her to yell at him, call him an idiot, kick him out of the house that would hurt far less than what she's doing now. If they were arguing or fighting and she slammed the bedroom door on him it wouldn't hurt like this was. This, Reagan leaving with her things, refusing to answer his calls was torture. It felt like his heart was being pulled out of his body as if the arteries were being stretched until they tore.

He's done drinking, it's not helping, it's only worsening his heartache. The liquid seems to only intensify his emotions, everything makes him cry. The sight of a book she left, feels like a stab to the chest. Her coffee cup in the cabinet, makes him hold his chest and collapse to the ground. The smell of her perfume on the sheets in the guest bedroom makes him ill.

The second day isn't any easier, there's still no phone call from Reagan, or text message; or even an email. He drinks a cup of coffee and stares at the harrowing note that he hasn't been able to move from the counter. It's been reread multiple times as if he's searching for something else, a hidden meaning behind one of the words; or the possibility he's misunderstood it. There's nothing new, no matter how many times he reads it, it's just more heartache.

With his head on straight and no alcohol in his system, he calls her one more time.

The phone goes to voicemail and his stomach drops. There was a tiny part of him that expected her to answer this time. It's been twenty-four hours since he's seen her and even longer since he's spoken to her.

"Reagan," He starts out, calmly. "Baby," he tries to focus on his breathing, slow and deep breathes so he doesn't lose sight of what he's doing here. He wants Reagan to come home. That's his goal, to get his girl to come back home. "I... fuck." With a loud groan, he drops the phone from his ear and rubs his face. He doesn't know what to say or how to began. He's left her countless messages that got him nowhere, if any of them counted this was the one.. "I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry. Just please come home, we can talk about this." He's bargaining, hoping she hears the sincerity in his voice before realizing his statement could be taken the wrong way. "No, I mean, we don't have anything to talk about. Okay? I fucked up, you're right. I shouldn't be forcing you to do what I want, I should've just shut up. I want to get married but if I have to choose between you or that, I choose you. I want you. I want you as my girl, my girlfriend, my friend, lover. Whatever we want to call it, I'm for. I can't lose you." He's rambling. "I love you, please just come home."

Three hours pass and the realization she may never come back home finally gets to him, he panics in the middle of making something to eat. It's a simple task but he caught sight of the Captain America: The First Avengers script Reagan had framed for him and it hit him like a punch to the gut.

His heart beat like a jackhammer, his mind is racing and he's struggling to breathe.

His fingers are tingling and the room is getting dangerously hot.

His body hurts and he's on the verge of passing out.

He can hear his heartbeat and feel it in his eardrums.

A panic attack.

Chris digs his cell phone out of his pocket and calls Reagan.

"Answer... Answer, Reagan. Please."

"This is Reagan, leave a message." Voicemail again.

He groans, hanging up the phone and grabs at his chest. The tips of his fingers are on fire, burning his skin, adding to the pain. Then he calls her again and again. Listening to her voice on her voicemail starts to calm him, his heart rate gets under control, the pressure on his lungs starts to dissipate. He can focus.

On the last phone call, he leaves one simple message. "Reagan, I'm so fucking sorry."

The next phone call he makes is wrong, it's not his place but if anyone knows how to get ahold of Reagan it would be her mother. She may have neglected to tell him where she was going but she would always tell her mother.

"Chris, she told me not to talk to you." Her mother says quickly after answering the phone.

He exhales deeply. "I just need to talk to her. She left in the middle of the night and she wont answer her phone."

"She's upset, Chris."

"I know!" He grabs his hair and groans. "I took it to far, I fucked up but I woke up and she was gone. Her stuff is gone and I'm suppose to just be okay with that?" He questions. "I don't get a chance to apologize or an opportunity to talk? I don't get to fight for her? She decides one night that we're done and that's it? I don't get told she doesn't want to be with me or that she doesnt love me to my face?"

Reagan's mother sighs. "Chris, honey..."

"We been together for six years, Margaret... six years. I love her. She's the last thing I think about before going to bed and the first thing I think about when I wake up. I can't... This can't end this way."

Chris knocks on the door, quietly at first before building up the courage to knock harder. The lock clicks causing his heart to race then the door slowly opens and there she is. Their eyes meet and she looks away, glancing at the ground with a sigh. "My mother?" She asks.

"Your mother." Chris says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

#Chris Evans #Chris Evans fanfic #Chris Evans Fanfiction #Chris Evans Imagine #Chris Evans fic #Evans #Human Dorito #Steve rogers #Captain America #Captain America: The First Avenger #Captain Steve Rogers #Before we go

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emordnilap-fr · 5 years

Text

The Maw

lore pinglist: @voltaic-ambassador @bavatica-fr (bava idk if you want just ‘locke posts or all lore so just lmk?) (ask if you’d like to be added to the list!)

word count: 2423

It starts with Zenturio.

He’s at his post in the entrance to the Maw, the gaping cavern that few dragons have access to. It’s in the deepest recesses of the lair, kept under watch by Sentinels like himself, shift after shift. The little light there is, cast from the torches behind him, glints off the stalactites and stalagmites like the teeth of a beast.

Far to his right, on the other side of the cave, sits Fizz, perched atop a stalagmite with her tail coiling its way down to the base. She’s quiet, but that’s normal; she rarely speaks, even to him.

It doesn’t hit him at once. But, slowly, an odd feeling begins to rise in his chest; an urge; a pull. And it’s so familiar yet so wrong that he freezes up, instinctively willing himself to resist. He casts a look towards his companion, mouth open to ask ‘Do you feel this?’ or ‘What are you doing?’, but he stops. Stares.

She’s quiet.

Cold.

She’s always been quiet; she’s shy, paranoid, distrusting. She’s always been cold; she’s an Ice dragon, glittering with frost and breathing snow. But now, she doesn’t even move, breathe. Now, her heat signature is dull, and he can barely distinguish her from the stone she sits on; it’s like she’s become one herself.

The pull strengthens.

He should be afraid, still. He remembers the Shade, how it had pulled at him all his life, he remembers gaining his freedom from it. But the Shade had felt angry, malevolent, violent, yanking at him and forcing unto him its will. This pull is… different. It’s calm, inviting, warm. It lulls him into a deep comfort, until his eyes are drooping and his mind muddles.

He stands, slips from his post, claws scraping on stone. He doesn’t know why he’s moving, but it feels right.

It calls to him, from deeper into the Maw. Pulls him in.

He listens, follows.

Nobody notices their absence for hours.

Schatten and Koniglich are in the library playing chess, a favorite pastime while they’re both off-duty. It’s still early in the day, and all is quiet save for the quiet clicking of their pieces on the board. Every now and then there’s a shuffling as elsewhere, Traube busies himself with organising the books.

Schatten uses a rook to knock over Koniglich’s king. His cheek fins flick; a smirk. “Checkmate.”

Koniglich lowers his crests; a frown. “Bitch.”

“You shouldn’t have moved your knight.”

“You shouldn’t have won.”

“Sore loser?”

“Absolutely.”

Schatten chuckles, takes his brothers withering glare as he resets the pieces. Then, something strange happens. He feels something, an odd feeling sinking into his bones that makes his crest quiver. Across from him, Koniglich mirrors his movement.

“Do you feel that?” they both ask, and both nod.

Koniglich starts, “Feels like-”

“-a pull,” Schatten finishes.

“Should we check?”

“It’s my job.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t wander far.”

“I won’t.”

“Let’s go.”

They stand in unison, next chess match forgotten. Side by side they leave the library, steps in sync and paces matching.

Through the halls they follow the call, letting it guide them home.

Soon they’re faced with open jaws, glinting teeth and hollow throat. The pull beckons them in, reassures their minds, soothes them.

They let themselves go at ease, and the Maw swallows them whole.

Traube watches them leave, wonders ‘Hm, where are they off to?’, until a dragon rings the bell for help and the thought leaves his mind. The guards must be changing shifts; he’ll clear their chessboard once he’s done here.

Flechte pushes aside a rack of sheet metal, sighs, then closes the storage room door. Feuer is nowhere to be found in the Foundry; where could the fae be?

He climbs up the stairwell in the side of the Workshop, emerges in Spiegel’s Studio. Across the room, the mirror sketches blueprints at his workbench, muttering under his breath.

“Hey, have you seen Feuer?”

Spiegel snorts. “Haven’t seen the kid. Lose your apprentice again?”

“He’s ready for his own apprentice, you know, he’s not a kid.”

“He’s a kid to me. Sounds like you lost ‘im. Again. He’ll turn up.”

Flechte… can’t share Spiegel’s brand of ‘optimism’. Something feels very wrong, very out of place, but he can’t place what or why. His instinct has never been wrong, and he wishes that, just this once, it might be.

He doesn’t get to voice this, not yet, as Lehrer and Soleil throw the door to the Studio open and rush inside. Lehrer barely skids to a stop before he pants out, “We can’t find Dunst or Chance; have you seen them?”

They both look hopeful, but Flechte’s heart drops. No, he hasn’t seen them, and he tells them as such. The way their faces fall breaks his heart, and a shiver runs up his spine. This isn’t right.

“You two, keep looking for them, and Feuer.” He ignores the way the two stiffen at another name, another dragon missing. “Spiegel, close up all shops, we’re not having business today. I’m going to Cumulus.”

The two apprentices nod, say, “Got it, sir,” and, “We’ll find them,” before they leave as quickly as they arrived. Spiegel sighs, sets down his pencil, but pauses. He gives Flechte a sidelong look.

“You really think something’s up?”

Flechte nods. “I know there is.”

Another sigh. “Well, I hope to the Eleven you’re wrong, we don’t need more of this catastrophe crap. They’re probably just scheming up some half-baked device.”

“I hope so, too.”

Flechte turns to leave, and Spiegel follows. He bids the mirror goodbye with a nod, then stretches his wings and ascends the side of the Rift. The moment he touches down in the clan’s main entrance, he’s off, sprinting towards Cumulus’ study.

Something’s wrong, and he’s going to find out what.

They’ve gone home.

It’s nearly noon. Neugierig travels down the stone halls at a brisk pace, heading deep into the cave system. It gets colder as he goes, but he doesn’t mind; he’s an Ice dragon, after all.

But when he finally reaches the Maw, where Zenturio should be waiting for him to change shifts, it isn’t the cold that sends a chill up his spine; rather, it’s the fact that Zenturio is gone. Frost covers much of the cave’s surface, glittering in the faint torchlight, and that’s when he notices Fizz.

She’s… he doesn’t know. She’s frozen, stone, ice, he can’t tell, but she isn’t moving and it’s so cold.

‘What the seven hells happened?’

He makes to leave, to alert Cumulus of this phenomenon, when something warm washes over him. He turns, faces the darkness of the Maw once more.

He doesn’t know why it comforts him, when just a moment ago he was confused, worried, edging towards panic. But it does; the warmth envelops him, urges him to seek out more, more, come closer.

He does.

Maelstrom knows something is wrong when Schatten never arrives for their shift change, and she’s even more concerned when Zenturio never arrives from Neugierig’s.

Where are they?

Cumulus has had it up to here with all the shit the clan gets put through. It’s been less than two years since Kiev attacked and created an Emperor. There was a Harpy attack a few months ago, and that’s not including the minor altercations with the tribe since then. The market is recovering from some gods-damned, tax-evading merchants who seemed hellbent on ruining some of the clan’s region-specific markets.

And now, she’s faced with Eiszapfen and Mammon and several missing dragons. Schatten, Koniglich, Rill, and Citrus, all missing within the last five hours.

She rubs her temples. “Are you sure they’re missing?”

Mammon looks offended at the notion that he may be wrong. “Yes! Nobody’s seen them in the lair, Prim never saw them leave, and they’re not in their dens.”

Eiszapfen chimes in with, “We also checked anywhere they usually stay. Library, Caravan, kitchen, nothing.”

That… is rather worrying. But there has to be a rational explanation, right? There’s no sign of a murderer; if anyone with such ill intent tried to move around the lair, they would’ve been found out by at least one of the clan’s skydancers. There are no signs of any struggles, no smell of blood or death, the dragons are simply gone, disappeared into thin air.

“If they don’t show up in, let’s say, four hours, we’ll start a larger search for them. But until then, we-”

She’s interrupted by Flechte pushing his way into the room. Inwardly, she groans. “Please don’t tell me somebody’s missing?”

He freezes, just for a moment, but it’s enough to tell her that yes, that’s exactly what’s happened. “...Dunst, Feuer, and Chance are all missing.”

She hisses under her breath, “Shit,” then looks between the three dragons before her. “You two,” she nods to Eiszapfen and Mammon, “ignore what I said. The clan is on lockdown, nobody leaves, nobody comes in. We’re getting to the bottom of this, and now.”

“Wait, who else is missing?” Flechte suddenly seems tense, like a coiled spring, and she doesn’t blame him; she lets Mammon lean over to fill the other coatl in.

When they finished, Cumulus fixes them all with a look. “Alright. I need all three of you to start a search, find every dragon you can and tell them to leave the lair, under my orders. We’ll gather in the Arena and do a headcount once we’ve found everyone. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. Send Prim and Streunende to me when you find them, they’ll have other jobs.”

The three nod, then leave in a rush.

Just what the hell is going on?

It’s alright, the pull sings. Come home.

They listen.

“You really think the conductors will listen to you?”

“Little bird, you’re a fool to think anyone would be enough of an idiot to ignore my words.”

“Well, there’s always me.”

“You’re a smartass, not an idiot, unfortunately.”

“Oh I think you do mean fortunately.”

“Shut the hell up, bird.”

Streundende chuckles, but stops teasing Prim; they’re on a job, after all. They touch down by the market, parting ways.

“Good luck with the trains, eh?”

“Tch, you’ll need more luck getting a single merchant to leave their stand for even a second.”

He ponders this for a moment, then admits defeat. “Yeah, yeah you’re right, I’ll need my luck.”

“Damn right.”

Primrose leaves, and he walks into the market with purpose. Stand by stand, he relays Cumulus’ orders, and as expected, most are reluctant to leave their stands unattended. But with some good ol’ convincing - also known as: threatening to ban them for life - they concede and retreat to the Arena on the other side of the Rift.

As he goes through the market, he notices that several stands are stocked but unattended. That… isn’t promising. He recognises a few of them, belonging to Eiszapfen (naturally), Koniglich (missing), Bestimmung, and Rastus, among others. He writes the names of any stands without owners, and once the market is cleared, he stands watch at the entrance to ward off anyone who may come by.

Out in the distance, he sees Primrose by the station. Luckily, no trains have come through so far, but he knows she’s going to have her claws full very, very soon.

He leans back against the wall of the stone overhang protecting the market and sighs. This is all one big mess, isn’t it?

When the sun finally begins to set and all the dragons in the market and lair have been gathered in the Arena, the headcount begins.

The numbers aren’t promising.

Streundende saw that Bestimmung and Rastus have disappeared..

Maelstrom reports that Zenturio, Fizz, and Neugierig haven’t returned from any of their shifts.

Mammon finds that Spatz has gone missing.

Akakia - upset and accompanied by Brayth, Atava, and Glainn - says that her mate Umbra is gone.

Five members of Envell’s crew have vanished: Absinthe, Eirris, Albatross, Kuhli, and Mio.

Dezmon reports that Lanyon, Saffo, and Carillon are missing - the last members of the Guild of Gold.

Tuvya noticed the absence of Liebe and Quartz; Oceana found Grendine’s Ward empty, and Glucose and Therrick are nowhere to be found.

This all is in addition to those already known missing. Twenty-six dragons. On top of any merchants passing through who are now gone.

It’s driving Cumulus mad.

Maelstrom approaches, and before she can reign in her temper, she snaps, “What?”

Luckily, the guardian isn’t fazed. At least, not by Cumulus; something is bothering her, though, from the way her brow’s furrowed and the glances she sends around the area.

“I can’t find Nachtlich.”

Oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.” This is very bad, especially for Oceana when she finds out. Cumulus starts pacing frantically. “Where was he assigned to search?”

“The Maw.”

That makes her freeze.

“You said a few others disappeared when they were meant to be stationed there, yes?”

“Correct. ...You don’t think it had something to do with this?”

“Gods… it had to have.” Cumulus sits down and pinches the bridge of her muzzle between her fingers. “I thought about sealing that place, quite often, but there’s too much stone to move. We should’ve tried to, at least.”

Maelstrom sits down in front of her. “Sunset never detected anything down there during her expeditions.”

“Don’t imply she’s lying.”

“I’m not, I’m just saying that there’s no way we could’ve known there was anything there.”

“Alright. Alright, good, just… this is such a mess.” Cumulus heaves a sigh, then stands up again, head held high. “We’ll find them. I don’t know if there’s something down there, or if, for some reason, all these dragons decided to crawl in there, but we’ll find them. I’ll lead a search party in the morning.”

Maelstrom tilts her head at her. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No. I’m not. But it’s all I’ve got. I don’t want to force the clan to move, but we just might have to if something happens down there.” Cumulus nods once, mostly to herself, and says, “We’ll stay the night out here, help me get the word around, okay?”

“Will do.”

True to her word, Cumulus leads a search party into the Maw that morning. It consists of herself, Sunset, Maelstrom, Brayth, and Atoll.

They don’t find anything.

They search through the day, delving ever deeper into the system, but find no signs of strange magic.

No signs of their missing clanmates.

But, something else finds them.

“Hello?”

#my lore #fr lore #flight rising lore #too many characters to tag #canonical death count: 27 #4 others not affiliated with the keepers #the title is a halo reference

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bloodstainedangelic · 5 years

Text

My Experience with The human Condition

I feel like I should start writing this somewhere so maybe someone sees this and avoids some of the mistakes i've come to make threwout my life. I dont exactly plan on this being a autobiogeph, But things are confusing at the current moment. Let's get Started Let me start of by intreducing myself Hi, Im Roy Otherwise Known as janro a Afrikaans Raised South african 22 year oldAnd Im a Psycopath of sorts Now my Grammer or Spelling wont be a real reflection of my Brain so to speak, or my Character im in general bad with spelling but im good with words I guess. Im not a Psycopath in the general sense of what most people think , No I dont hurt people I have yet to murder someone in case your wondering. But I dont feel things like people should, Happiness IF you could call it that comes for me in the form of anger and immense moments of depression Tho im not sure what those Emotions really mean, Its the closest I come to feeling anything tho, Im not sure what anything is really, I find it impossible to learn anything from anyone, I think it might have to do with the fact that I usually Find myself better the work.Its a bad habbit because of that I learn to hate almost everything I do, Yet i Tend to be good at it, Everything ive ever undertaken ive either excelled at or simply never bothered to even try at it. I have no Motivation for anything It seems Pointless I dont see the purpose of running the hamster wheel of a life we tend to live, Im lonely So lonely yet I have a beautifull girlfriend thats wonderfull really. Shes amazing, A little one the only thing probably keeping me around my Beautifull little child. But that hurts me in the same breath because I want to see the world and expierence everything from every corner of the world in hopes that i find something that brings me Purpose, But now Because of her im forced to run the hamster wheel. And this is has been the hardest undertaking of my life. a year at college to get a Degree thats gotten me Nowhere and Taught me nothing, The person "In Charge" of teaching us" was so incapible him self I actually found it amusing in times so now with no Safety net noone to run to, No more Money to study Further, I sit here everyday Trying to find a job im totally unprepared to do. Maybe I am Ready but You see im intentionally or unintentionally self destructive I dont know, I cant afford to see a Therapist to try and deal with my Problems. If that would even help, So here i Am hoping some Stranger reads this and Borrows me a ear or some advice, Im trying to briefly Summarize my Current Situation So IF you're not interested in the full story Stop here. As a child I use to excell at everything I did at 12 I was already taking care of my Drunk of a dad, And teaching my Mother and sister how to cook, How to teach, How to handle there work and school life's I've always been the helpfull Silent kid that helps everyone els out with a smile but never quite getting anything in return, Well not In the general sense atleast. See I thrive on Others Emotions Im kind of a Morphic Person I adapt my Personaly and Characteristics to the person im talking to, So "Me" as a person my "Personality" Doesnt exsist its totaly Dependant on my current situation Because of that i've found it easy to Manupilate people Especially People who think they have the upper hand. When someones Following my Everywhim I feel this " At home" feeling And I guess because of this My life turned out the way it did. See for me Nothing Ever works out the way its suppose to, Im a Hopeless Optemist at time but its never worked out not even once, I've never had a plan work out before Yet I cant bring my self to "Just go with the flow" Because I tend to feel very little 99% of the time I've always been the calm and Colected person in my Family so everyruns to me if theres trouble or if they have problems. I'd love to run to someone I know for help right now, But I dont think anyone I know has the brain cells to understand the odd situation im in. Basiclly Im stuck in a puddle and ive got no way out. Theres no branch to latch onto no doors to open threres nothing ahead, I'd love to say all I need is for someone to give me a chance but im not sure I can get what they need from me done, Every Dream ive ever had ive had to toss into the wind because of one or another situation Either money family or loved ones. I feel like Im not good enough for anything anymore I've always had this rock solid self confidence lately none of thats left, Im the kind of guy that can write a 4000 Word essay on the spot usually and right now i dont even know what to write anymore, My Life is a Shit show right now, And ive got no outlet So im hoping this provides me some kind of support. I've lived a complicated live uptill now I've dealt With a Drunk for a dad thats sold everything ive almost every owned when i was living with him I turned to drugs to Feel something at some point But I litterly Stopped that Addiction simply by doing so much drugs that i'd be able to go to the hospital if i OD'd or Feel so shit that I can mentally start to restructer the addiction as a "Pain in the ass" "A hassle" It wasnt some Therapy or Rehab that helped me Just me simply Lying to my self and Ya I do get Cravings from time to time , But Eh. after that I spent 3 Years sitting at home trying to find a job And eventually after Interview and Interview failing I ended up Going to study and it this point im sure you know how that ended, And now im a Neutral Rock that cant feel anything but Crushing Self Pitty and Demotivation towards every daily act Its gotten to the point where i'd rather be hungry for 2 days straight then get up and make my self some Instant noodles or a Cheese sandwitch The other day I had such bad Stomach Cramps That i fainted, Probably because of the lack of neutrition but Eh I dont have the money to see a DR and I cant be Bothered trying to Improve my Diet as an Example I use to Weight About 90KGs Athletic Guy with Big "Muscles" I weight 42 KGs atm I Disgust my self when i look in the mirror lately When i see how ive let my self just Rot I honestly looked better on drugs Hell all the photos on this twitter I was high as all shit. I cant Off my self cause what about my kid. And That would be to much of a hassle honestly I mean ive been trying to kill my self slowly for years but still. I cant improve my life because I have no motivation And to improve it I would need a job and at this point I cant even remember what I had for Breakfast. Ooh And ive been Self Medicating with 7 Types of Anti Deppresants None of wich work btw All they do is make me feel "Edgy" when I forget to take them. But yeah I mean Shitts Tuff Im having some real "First World" Problems at the moment but to be honest i'd rather be in a warzone or some apocelyptic fuckery of a area atleast there id have a daily in and out and hell maybe the idea of getting murdered everyday might drive me to do something with my life althought thats doubfull But yeah if you got this far I think I owe you a Alot, and hell maybe you feel the same but I just want someone to fucking help me. I Feel fucking broken And I really just need some Help.

#help me #i need help #what do i do #self deprecation #deppressed #sad #Please help me #story #my life

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blatherkatt · 6 years

Text

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 33: Declarations

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Implied/Mentioned abuse, mentions of terrorism, death mention, injury mention, depiction of an emotional breakdown, trauma aftermath; Illustrated; Pesterlog

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

— carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling tipsyGnostalgic [TG] —

CG: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

— tipsyGnostalgic [TG] is an idle chum! —

CG: FUCK YOU, I CAN SEE THAT FOR MYSELF, YOU PIECE OF SHIT PROGRAM. I’M GONNA FUCKING YELL ANYWAY.

CG: I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO PICK ME UP AT NOON. IT’S LIKE, 1:30 AND YOU STILL AREN’T HERE, WHAT GIVES?

CG: IF YOU GOT KIDNAPPED, TOO, I SWEAR TO FUCK I’M PERSONALLY PUTTING THIS ENTIRE GODDAMN FAMILY UNDER PERMANENT WATCH.

CG: I’M NOT ABOVE SITTING ON YOU ASSHOLES IF THATS WHAT IT TAKES.

TG: okay first off i know youre like a literal alien but heres a protip for ya:

TG: general human earth etiquette is to not text people who you know are probably driving?

TG: its like a whole thing

CG: WHY

TG: idk probs because texting while driving’s a great way to fucking crash lol

TG: anyway!!

TG: yeah im real sorry about that mom fucking rang me up like

TG: hi im at the airport come get me!

TG: out of fucking nowhere because everything has to be a fucking hassle with this woman

TG: so i had to go get her

CG: WHY THE FUCK WAS SHE AT THE AIRPORT?

TG: because fuck me is why

TG: and THEN shes like

TG: ooooh i gotta do some mysterious whatthefuckever errand at some mall out in the middle of nowhere

TG: so now im sitting in the parking lot waiting for her to get back which might be a while because her bad leg’s been acting up lately

TG: and thats why im not there yet >:(

CG: WAIT. WAIT, HOLD ON, I’M CONFUSED.

CG: BY “MOM” ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT RACHEL? I DIDN’T EVEN THINK SHE HAD A BAD LEG.

TG: nonono

TG: ray is like. dirk and dave and rose’s mom

TG: i dont call her mom i just call her aunt ray cuz shes not my mom yknow

TG: my mom is aunt ray’s sister

TG: aunt ramona? they talk about her?

CG: OOOOOOH. YEAH.

CG: THE WOMAN WHO WRITES THOSE SHITTY SUPERNATURAL ROMANCE BOOKS KANAYA LOVES.

TG: hahaha yeah her trashy shit is great

CG: SHE’S HERE?

TG: apparently!!!!!!!!

CG: I’M SENSING SOME BITTERNESS.

TG: ugh its fine she just always does shit like this

TG: womans always gotta make a fuckin entrance even if that means not telling anyone shes coming

TG: and its goddamn annoying as shit!!

TG: but its fine i get it shes here to help out and we are kinda all hands on deck

TG: speaking of tho i heard something about kanaya not coming along after all?

CG: NOT YET, NO.

CG: SHE’S BEEN TALKING TO ROSE, AND APPARENTLY DAVE’S BEEN PRETTY UNEASY WITH THE NUMBER OF NEW FACES AT THE HIVE.

CG: HOUSE. WHATEVER.

CG: TEREZI’S PROTECTION DETAIL HAS HIM KIND OF ON EDGE, I GUESS?

CG: SHE’S GONNA COME AROUND LATER PROBABLY. AND MIGHT END UP STAYING WITH PORRIM AND KEEP IT TO VISITS, AT LEAST UNTIL THINGS SETTLE DOWN A BIT.

CG: SO IT’S JUST ME FOR NOW.

TG: ooooh yeah geez i bet

TG: poor dave :( :( :(

TG: i gotta tell you and mom some uh. serious shit about him when i pick you both up

TG: id pass it on here but its probs better if i just tell you face to face?

CG: OH, WONDERFUL!

CG: MORE NO DOUBT HORRIFIC NEWS REGARDING DAVE.

CG: I CAN’T WAIT. THIS PANIC ATTACK’S GONNA BE ONE FOR THE RECORD BOOKS, I CAN JUST FEEL IT!!!

TG: :(

TG: tl;dr hes not in great shape but hes getting better but theres some stuff we gotta go over

TG: jfc mom what the fuck are you doing its been ages

CG: SO WAIT. SHE JUST HAD YOU DRIVE HER OUT SOMEWHERE AND WALKED OFF ALONE?

TG: yeah

TG: woman can take care of herself just fine so like im not worried??

TG: but still, like. cmon woman!!! whatever it is hurry up a little

TG: it cant be that important we got places to be

In terms of location, it was almost an outlet mall; somewhat detached from the nearest city and surrounded by forest. It was mostly all one building, positioned in a dip in the ground next to a clear stream, and these features had helped make it a serviceable fortress during the invasion, although Derek had regularly complained that he’d have preferred a site that held the high ground. Still, they’d made do; the roof was high enough that one could see for quite some distance, the stream offered fresh water, the trees provided decent enough cover during skirmishes, and the walls were thick enough to turn away most weather and weapons. It hadn’t been much, but it had served well enough as home for six years for around threescore ragtag survivors-turned-fighters.

Out in the surrounding forest, those who hadn’t survived that conflict still lay buried in pitiful graves marked only with a stone or a chunk of wood. There hadn’t been time to properly put anyone to rest; it had been risky enough for two or three people to slip out during a stretch of quiet with a shovel and a body. They simply hadn’t been able to afford to have any sort of formal burial, not with the threat of an attack constantly looming.

Even so, even so…

Derek had picked a spot he would remember.

In life, the oak tree would have been the kind people would have thought of as a monarch, with branches spread wide and gnarled wood ancient and strong, holding children in its branches as easily as if they were made of nothing; but the tree had already been dead by the time the invasion started, a great, ancient, dried-out husk. Even so, decades later, it still stood, its branches reaching toward the sky, the other trees forming a circle around it as though too respectful to come too close. Mushrooms and trails of greenery crept about a quarter of the way up the ancient trunk.

At its roots, a rotting wooden spar stuck up out of the ground. This, too, had been reclaimed by flowers, grasses and mushrooms, decorating the splintered and decayed timber with dark summer greens and pale white-and-lavender blooms.

Derek Strider, down on one knee with his sheathed sword held in his right hand, sighed. Of course, the trouble with having to bury the dead so hastily meant that there’d been no one to look over the graves, so it was to be expected that it be in such disrepair, but even so, seeing this one choked out by the invading flora was…

It wasn’t right.

Overhead, the ancient branches rustled slightly, and the raucous calling of a bird broke the silence. Derek narrowed his eyes and ignored it, tried to write the disrespectful noise out of the scene.

The crow seemed to have other ideas. The bird lighted down on the wooden grave marker, red eyes fixed on Derek’s face. It flapped its wings a few times, cawing incessantly. Derek scowled, unsheathed his sword, and struck —

The blade passed through the bird with no resistance whatsoever. The creature’s body split in two, bloodlessly, as though Derek had cut through smoke — it even looked like smoke, like a cloud cut in two by a passing jet. As Derek looked on, uncomprehending and with a growing sense of dread, the bird’s body seemed to pull itself back together, a video played in reverse, and the bird’s accusatory squawks started up again as though nothing had happened.

Derek was on his feet in an instance, stepping away from the beast, and as he did, he happened to look up…

Perched on nearly every branch of the old tree were ravens. Unlike the crow, they were all silent, and aside from the occasional shifting of a foot or tilting of a head, motionless. Scores of staring animal eyes bored into him.

Derek had never been a superstitious man, but nor was he the sort of fool to ignore the truth his own eyes showed him. He’d spent six years fighting alongside a witch, and seen enough to learn that some things really couldn’t be explained away as coincidence.

Had it been anyone else, he would have responded to the sound of footsteps approaching this site with a furious attack; even Ben knew better than to disturb him here. But when he whirled to face the intruder, he froze.

She’d aged more since he’d last seen her than he would have expected. Hints of silver streaked her hair, and she leaned heavily on her gnarled black cane. A faint breeze stirred the black fabric of her dress, playing with the light shawl laying across her shoulders. The crow had fallen silent.

“Put that thing away before you take someone’s eye out,” said Ramona, nodding nonchalantly at Derek’s sword.

Derek narrowed his eyes, and did not respond aloud, instead choosing to slowly and deliberately slide the sword back into its sheathe. Only after his left hand had returned to his side did Ramona nod and continue.

“That’s better,” she said. “Now we can talk things over like reasonable adults. Mind you, I ought to do the world a favor and wipe you out right now,” and Derek took a slow, deep breath at that, as she continued, “But I’d prefer not to desecrate your brother’s grave by staining it with your blood. I respect him far too much for that. You, however, have somehow managed to exceed all of my worst expectations to a nearly unfathomable degree, as of late. I’ve held off on this confrontation out of respect for the past, but I can see now that this was a mistake.”

Derek shifted. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect our damn planet, Ramona,” he started, but was cut off.

“Really?” she said, “Well, then. I’m not about to attempt to ask you to cease killing trolls, as we both know that would be pointless, but I would very much like to know how exactly burning your own son alive plays into your grand battle strategy?”

“He…he turned on us,” Derek said, through gritted teeth, “He forced my hand, left me no choice!”

“He is a child!” Ramona snapped. “And you, of all people, should know better! If you really must follow this path of self-destruction to its end, fine, but he should never have been involved!”

“I—”

“And in any case, you had a perfectly good sword on hand, I’m sure. If young Dave really did need to die, you could have executed him with minimal pain, but no, you wanted him to hurt, to know he was dying and to fear you and suffer as he passed. How do you justify that, Derek? How does anyone, especially a child, deserve anything of the sort?”

The eyes of the ravens and that damned crow still drilled into him. He could feel the stares on his back, but kept his eyes locked on Ramona’s, refusing to back down.

He wasn’t going to take back what he’d done. There’d be no guilt, he’d done nothing wrong except overreact a bit. It was justified. That…that boy wasn’t Dave. Ramona was using the name like a blade, but she’d not win that way. He didn’t deserve the fucking name, didn’t deserve to have anything to do with Dave, he never would have let Rachel name the kid that if he’d known he was going to grow up to be such a pathetic, useless little coward.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said.

“No, I suppose you don’t,” said Ramona, folding her hands over the top of her cane. “I’ve a fairly good idea, in any case.” She sighed. “The war is over, Derek. The time to put aside this violence and misery is long since behind us. Our children do not deserve to grow up as we did.”

“The trolls are still here,” Derek spat.

There was a long silence. Ramona sighed again.

“Fine, then,” she said, “So be it. Do as you will. Chase violence as long as you like. But if you come near my family again, I will consider it an act of war.”

She turned, and he was tempted to take the bait, to try attacking her while her back was turned, but he held still. It was infuriating, knowing what a pointed insult turning her back on him was, knowing that she knew he would not risk attacking her—but she was right. She was much too dangerous.

“Come along, little one,” she said, abruptly. The crow rose off the grave and flew to land on top of Ramona’s cane. If Derek had cared to pay any attention, he might have noticed the crow look back at him with something like regret in its eyes, but Derek was already far too lost in his own thoughts.

As one bird, the ravens took wing, dispersing in all directions, leaving him alone again.

The trouble with trying to go from Alternian to English was a multifaceted one, to be sure, but so far the most obnoxious piece of it that Karkat could see was the tendency of guides on how to speak English to simply use the closest Alternian equivalent as an English word’s translation. More and more, the two languages were notably extremely different, and while he could speak English well enough that he’d never had any serious problems, there were any number of words that he kept tripping over as a result of a translation being extremely unclear and culturally misleading.

Witches, for instance, were clearly something very different on Earth. The Alternian word that was translated to English as “witch” was, like most Alternian words, a series of noises in the ‘click and growl’ family that most humans lacked the anatomy to create, and generally refered to certain lowblood prophets and healers in Alternian folklore. They were those who lived away from society and who, through some lucky genetics and convenient psychic powers, were able to fend of drones and effectively disappear from the world at large’s knowledge. They kept to themselves, sought to harm no one who didn’t attack them first, offered shelter to the weak and the hunted, and as such were always portrayed as utterly despicable beings in fiction, as no writer with any sense of self-preservation had dared to portray such reckless treachery under the rule of the last Condesce. There might have been some changes to the lore under the new one’s rule, but things like that changed slow.

In any case, they certainly weren’t anything like the old woman in a shawl who was sitting next to Roxy in the front of her car.

She was dressed all in black, for one thing. Alternian witches didn’t tend to wear much black. Some Alternian witches didn’t tend to wear all that much clothing at all, really. Most seemed to belong to ancient religions that weren’t particularly fond of shirts.

Ramona was definitely magic as shit, though, Rachel’d been right about that much. Was that all a witch was on Earth, just someone with magic? Fuck, if that were the case, then probably like at least a third of all trolls were witches by Earth’s standards. Then again, maybe magic was another poorly translated word? English didn’t seem to have a word to separate “things that we (read: trolls) know exist, like psychic powers and psiionics and ghosts and chucklevoodoos,” and “things that are super fake and don’t actually happen ever and make no sense.”

Whatever. In any case, Ramona didn’t look at all like Karkat had expected, and when he climbed into the back of the car, she didn’t react to his presence with anything stronger than an amiable nod. She seemed to have her mind on other things, and was largely silent at first.

Roxy wasn’t; she immediately piped up happily as Karkat swung open the door with a “Hey, man! Sorry about taking so long! Can you, uh, do me a favor and check on Jaspers? He’s in the carrier behind Mom, Rose asked me to pick him up while she and Aunt Ray were gone. He’s been missing them a lot, all staring out the window and kneading his blanket and shit, and he’s not a huge fan of car rides.”

“He’s asleep,” Karkat said after glancing into the little crate.

“Awesome. Alright, buckle up and we’ll get this damn show on the road.”

“On the road again, just can’t wait to get on—”

Karkat tilted his head as the car’s radio abruptly changed from quietly playing some human pop song over to something much louder and completely different. Ramona stifled a snort as Roxy stabbed a button, switching the radio back to the previous channel.

“No, thank you,” she said, glaring. “Christ, the fuck is with this thing today, I swear to god.”

“I suppose it may simply be getting into the spirit of things,” said Ramona with a smile. As the car pulled away from the curb, she turned back a bit to face Karkat. “It’s Karkat, isn’t it? Rachel’s been sending me any number of emails with updates, and from the sound of things, you’ve been rather instrumental in bringing young Dave back into the fold, so to speak.”

“…Into the what?”

“It’s a figure of speech, meaning in this case that you’ve helped us return him home as well as helping him to adjust to being there,” she said. “For which you have all of our heartfelt thanks. Ours is perhaps not the most functional of families, but it is ours, and as I’m sure you’ve seen firsthand, ripping away a piece of it the way Derek did has had some very painful consequences for all involved. We owe you a great deal.”

“Yeah, man!” Roxy said. “And from what Rose has been telling me, you were kind of a big part of why he finally spilled what he knows. Which, he did bee-tee-dubs, which means he’s off house arrest finally, so that’s good—”

“—And a partridge in a pear tree,” the radio crackled.

“What the fuck? It’s August,” Roxy scowled. She turned the radio off altogether as Ramona glanced hurriedly out the window.

“Speaking of Dave,” Karkat said, hopefully before anyone got distracted again, “Roxy, you mentioned that there was something that you needed to say face to face?”

“Right, shoot, yeah,” said Roxy. The car turned onto the long road that led eventually to the Lalonde hive. “Okay, so, like. There’s definitely some shit you should know before we get there, but I wanna preface it all real clearly by saying that Dave’s okay, y’know? He’s got a lot of healing to do, but the doctors said that as long as he’s looked after and we change bandages and shit and he gets plenty of rest, he’s definitely not in any danger anymore. He’s…weak, but he’s not like gonna keel over at any moment, okay?”

“Not actually making me feel any better, Roxy!” said Karkat. Oh, boy, with a preface like that…

“Well, fuck, I tried, I guess. Uh. So, Dave did get hurt…pretty bad, and there were some other complications—oh, for fuck’s sake!!”

“Watch me, watch me, hey, watch me, watch me!” The radio was louder than ever. Ramona’s hand flew up, poorly hiding a grin.

Karkat leaned around Roxy’s seat to glare at her.

“What the fuck, Roxy,” said Karkat.

“I’m not doing this!” Roxy said, waving her hand wildly. “I swear to fuck, I wouldn’t! I really do need to pass on some shit about poor Dave, and the radio’s never done this before? It’s been acting up since a little before we picked you up, keeps changing on its own and shit, augh!”

She fought with the controls, but the song stopped only for a moment before getting even louder.

“Why the fuck do you humans even have this obnoxious song?! Who listens to this?? It’s literally just some squawking wiggler screeching for its lusus’s attention!”

“I mean, I kinda love it for that honestly, it’s terrible and stupid and wonderful, but like, come the fuck on??? What’s with this thing?! Now is not the time!”

“Ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass—“

“GOD, that’s even worse!!” Roxy yelled, slamming her fist down on the dashboard. “Fucking stop!!”

“That’s enough for now,” Ramona said, almost murmuring it.

The radio turned off. Karkat and Roxy both turned a suspicious eye on Ramona, and with equal simultaneity, decided to drop it for now.

“Anyway,” Roxy said slowly, “What I was trying to say is, um…Karkat, do you know what it means for someone to ‘flatline?’ Because, um. Dave kinda did, for like, a minute and a half.”

Karkat shook his head, realized Roxy probably couldn’t see him with her eyes on the road, and said, “Uh, I have no idea what that word means, no.”

“Well, um…”

“It refers to a heart monitor indicating that the heart has ceased beating,” Ramona said. “The machine indicates activity with a line which shows peaks and valleys, and it goes flat when that activity has stopped, thus, ‘flatline’. The organ we call a heart serves an equivalent function to what trolls call a ‘blood pusher’ or a ‘pump biscuit.’”

Karkat felt for a moment like his own pump biscuit had stopped.

“Shit, Mom, when did you get so good at translating to trolls?” Roxy murmured.

Ramona shrugged. “I’ve made efforts to reach out,” she said. “The war ended, after all, and since we’re allies now, it doesn’t hurt to learn about each others’ cultures.”

“His fucking—What?!” Karkat screeched, unable to keep the harsh buzzing whine out of his voice. God, that was such a moirail noise, and any other time he’d have yelled at himself for not keeping it under control, but not now, not when… “His fucking blood pusher stopped and I’m supposed to be calm!?!”

“They got it moving again!” Roxy said. “He’s okay now, the doctors said it was going strong! It was, um, mostly just exhaustion, they think? Like, the burn wounds could’ve killed him on their own, sure, but they got on those quick enough that if he’d been healthy to begin with he probably wouldn’t have been so bad off? But between ten years of, you know…and just, apparently he hasn’t been eating enough even while he’s been back with us? And Ray’s gonna get on his ass about that, but, just—look, the thing is, Dirk doesn’t know about this yet, and Aunt Ray’s asked that we try to keep it that way, and I don’t really get why but I think she has her reasons?”

Karkat was definitely hyperventilating, oh fuck, oh fuck—Ramona’s hand reached back to touch his own, snapping him out of it.

“It’s fine to be worried,” she said, gentle. “I promise you, though, it is as Roxy says: he’ll be fine given time to recover and the safety with which to do so. He’ll be alive when we get there.” She sat back in her chair, turning towards the road again. “As for Dirk, I suspect Rachel is waiting for things to settle down before breaking it to him gently. He is, for better or worse, very like his father, and Derek handled his brother’s death poorly, in large part because at the time we could not afford to mourn. Rachel probably wants to make sure that Dirk does not feel he has to force himself to be strong when she tells him.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Roxy muttered. “Anyway, the main thing about that is that he’s not got a lot of energy right now, so don’t…take it personally if he just falls asleep on you sometimes? Especially with the painkillers he’s on, apparently that’s a side effect, too. He can walk short distances, but he gets wobbly quick and needs help sometimes, so there’s that too.”

“Fuck,” said Karkat, softly.

The next ten minutes of the ride were carried out in tense silence. This was broken by the radio once again bursting back on and blasting the ass song again, at which point Roxy threatened to pull over and smash the fucking thing to smithereens.

By the time they actually got to the fucking house, Karkat felt like his soul was going to vibrate right out of his fucking body with impatience. They had yet another delay in the form of Terezi’s protection detail—Terezi herself wasn’t there, but some officers were, and they insisted on knowing about any weapons the three of them had as well as names, and went in to check with the family while making them all wait outside by the car. Karkat already had his fucking bag in hand, he was ready to go, but no, they had to go through this tedious procedure! Sure, it was probably a smart move, and when he was feeling a little more sensible he’d be more okay with it as it was the sort of thing that probably would make them all feel a bit safer (especially poor fucking Dave), but right now the were a pain in the ass and he was going to fucking explode!!! If they didn’t!!! Let him get in the fucking hive!!!!!

Rose stepped out as they were still talking to the police, and for the first time in his life Karkat was unspeakably happy to see her. She quickly confirmed to the police that all three of them were in fact expected and trusted by this household, and then gently let Jaspers out of his carrier. The cat immediately yowled and threw himself into her arms, kneading at her shoulders and rubbing his face against hers, and it all would have been super cute if Karkat didn’t have his mind on other fucking things.

“Come on in,” Rose said, nodding towards the door. “Dirk’s on the couch and Dave’s in Mom’s room, as neither of them can handle stairs right now and Dave needs his bandages changed at least twice a day. Karkat, do you—”

She was talking to air. He was already in the fucking door.

And then had to face the fact that he’d never actually been to Rachel’s room. Fuck. Rachel was coming up the hall, though, and a slightly bewildered young human (wait, fuck, that was Dirk, what happened to his hair? It looked so weird hanging down like that instead of spiked up) was sitting on the couch with an Earth husktop on his lap. Roxy pushed in the door with Ramona right behind her, dropped a heavy wheeled bag right next to the door, and immediately launched herself at Dirk, who gave a startled yelp as she did so.

Rachel rested a hand on Karkat’s shoulder as she passed him, rushing up toward Ramona throwing her arms around her shoulders. The two shared a long hug, and Rachel kissed Ramona’s cheek.

“God, I’m so glad you’re here,” Karkat heard Rachel murmur, before Rose tapped his shoulder.

“I was asking if you knew where Mom’s room is,” Rose said.

“Uh.”

“It’s down the hall to the observatory, but you take a left before you get to it. Make sure to make plenty of noise on the way over, Dave gets really jumpy when he’s the only person in that room. He can’t block the door since we need to be able to come in and out, and it’s got him a bit on edge.”

Karkat nodded, unable to get any words out past the lump in his throat. He more or less just dropped his bag on the ground and pushed past, zooming around toward the room indicated. Dave looked half-asleep when Karkat pushed the door open, and waved as he sat up with some effort.

God, the photo Rose had taken didn’t do justice to how fucking bad he looked. There were bruises across his face and neck turned a weird greenish-gray but still dark against his skin, and bandages everywhere, his hair was a mess (although that might have just been from sleeping). He was in some oversized shirt with an Earth hoofbeast on the front that was probably Dirk’s judging by the size, and Karkat had no idea why Dave had it on but right now he didn’t care.

“Hey, man, uh. Shit’s been crazy, huh?” Dave said with an awkward grin. He didn’t have his shades on either, which made sense if he’d been sleeping, except they weren’t on the bedside table (which did instead contain a nearly empty glass of water, several bottles of pills and salves, and a first aid kit from which clean cloth bandages overflowed).

Two weeks of emotion boiled over all at once. Wordless, Karkat stomped across the room and grabbed Dave’s stupid fucking shirt in both hands and tugged him close.

“It was three days, Dave,” Karkat hissed.

“Wha—?”

“Three days! And you got yourself fucking kidnapped by a terrorist on day goddamn two!! What the fuck, Dave?!” His voice was threatening to abandon him, but Karkat forced it right back into place by sheer willpower. This tangent would not be fucking stopped, hell no. “I take my eyes off of you for two days, and you get yourself into shit again! What the fuck!!! Do you have any idea how-how fucking agonizing it’s been waiting for news?! And you’re just sitting there like ‘Oh, hey! What’s up?’ What’s up is my foot up your waste chute, you hopeless fucking—!” Okay, nope, his voice was leaving after all, actually. He felt tears roll down his face, and he should’ve been more worried about that, but Dave already knew about his blood color and he was the only troll in the house right now, so, fuck it, fuck it all! Helpless, he tugged Dave closer again, letting his face press against that stupid shirt, claws still twisted into the fabric as he sobbed.

“Holy shit,” Dave muttered.

“I was so fucking scared,” Karkat gasped. This was pathetic, they weren’t remotely a couple, Karkat had no right to be this worked up and he knew it, but…Dave wasn’t exactly pushing him away, either, was he?

“I’m sorry, man, I didn’t even…It wasn’t planned this time, it just sorta happened, and Dirk got hurt, and I…”

“I’m not actually angry at you, despite having so much right to be that legislacerators everywhere have preemptively declared me innocent. I’m just fucking screaming for the sake of it, dumbass.”

“Oh.”

The awkward pause that followed was filled with only the sound of Karkat’s weeping, which, fuck, he was probably too fucking embarrassed to tell him off. Except…Dave’s hand lifted up to rest gently against Karkat’s back, so, maybe he didn’t mind that much? Was that wishful thinking?

“Sorry for this,” he said, just in case, as he pulled away a bit. “It’s really fucking embarrassing, I know, I just…”

“It’s cool, man,” said Dave. Then, with a wink, he said, “I know you got your massive Strider homocrush, it’s only natural—”

“Dave, I swear to fuck, injured or not, I will pummel you into dust with a fucking pillow, don’t test me!” Karkat snapped.

Dave snorted. “Hey, man, it’s fine, everyone’s allowed to be a lil gay sometimes with their friends, it’s only natural.”

“I’ll ‘natural’ you!! Motherfucker, I spent the two weeks worrying about your wellbeing and you come at me with more of this bullshit!!”

Dave cackled with laughter. Karkat rolled his eyes and sniffled. He feigned annoyance as best he could, but, God, it was such a relief to hear Dave laugh. Rubbing a sweater sleeve furiously across his eyes, Karkat pulled back, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “Okay, but seriously, what’s with the shirt?” he asked, gesturing at the floating head of the hoofbeast. It wasn’t even a joke or a drawing. It was just…a straight photo of a hoofbeast’s face, with no text or explanation of any sort. What the fuck??

Dave glanced down, and snickered. “Oh, shit. Uh, yeah, we needed something that’s easy to get me in and out of, since the bandages on this fuckin’ burn need to be changed like, a lot, not to mention the gross-ass cream they have us slathering all over it on the regular. We tried a button down, but the buttons were kinda chafing, and like…who the fuck wants to ruin a fancy shirt with gross burn juices, right? And Dirk’s shit is more comfortable, and this one’s big enough that it’s real easy to take off even if I’m high on the damn painkillers.”

Karkat winced slightly, but decided not to comment. The scream from the video echoed somewhere in his think pan. “Where’re your shades?”

“Bro fuckin’ stepped on them or something, man, I dunno. They fell off at some point, and they were already cracked before all that, and Terezi just found pieces. Which fucking sucks, I mean God dammit, those were a gift from John. Shit sucks.”

“John?” Karkat tipped his head.

“Yeah, he’s like, an old friend of mine. Have I not mentioned him to you? Whatever, he, uh.” Dave scratched at the side of his head. “He was an online friend from before Bro started doing the, uh, raid shit, and I kept talking to him and another friend, Jade, for a while afterwards even though I wasn’t supposed to?”

“Jade’s name I remember,” Karkat said.

“Haha, yeah, yeah cuz I told you about…anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I guess since Dirk’s college is starting up again soon, not that he’s going for the first couple weeks with his leg and a fucking concussion, but, it’s starting up, and John’s sister goes there too, and he’s gonna come with so we’ll be able to hang out for a bit? Which is fuckin’ rad, I haven’t even talked to the guy in three years and we’re finally meeting in person.”

“You want him to be here? While you’re this badly injured?” Karkat yelped.

Dave blinked at him like he’d just grown a secondary head.

“I mean, yeah?” Dave said. “Like, yeah, I’m not in great shape and I guess it’ll be a lil weird for him to see me like this, but I’ve missed him.” Before Karkat could press the question further, though, Dave yawned. “Ugh, fuck, I wanna keep talking, but I’m…halfway to falling asleep, shit.”

“Oh,” said Karkat. He got up, ready to leave. He wanted to stay, wanted to curl himself around Dave’s obnoxiously lanky frame as best he could and protect this fragile idiot human from the entire universe, but…it wasn’t his place, was it? No.

“You leaving?” said Dave, rubbing at his unbruised eye.

“You said you wanna sleep,” Karkat said.

“Right. Uh. Could you, like…fill this back up for me, then, I guess?” Dave said.

“…Sure,” said Karkat.

He was…still confused, but Dave was tired, so he didn’t press. But he couldn’t wrap his head around wanting a friend around while he was so injured—well, he’d wanted Karkat around, hadn’t he? He’d seemed happy to see him, aside from the, uh, yelling. Still, it didn’t make sense! Every troll knew as a small child that the only people you could trust when you were injured were your lusus, your moirail, and maybe your matesprit! Anyone else might take advantage of the weakness and kill you, that was just basic logic! But Dave didn’t even seem to be thinking about it.

And…and yet, come to think of it, Roxy’d been awfully forthright about how bad Dave’s condition was. Hell, she’d heard it from Rose, who seemed like the one most likely to know not to spread that weakness, but the humans were all sharing it and passing it around. It wasn’t just that they didn’t seem to care who knew that Dave and Dirk were injured, it was like they wanted people to know.

And as he filled up the glass of water in the kitchen, he watched as Roxy and Dirk talked on the couch, as Dirk told her that he’d passed on the news of their condition to Jane already, that Rose had told her and Dave’s friends, and it just kept going. Everyone had to be up to date on the fact that both brothers were injured and vulnerable, and yet…

“I hope the flight wasn’t too long,” Rachel was saying to Ramona.

“Nothing would be too long right now,” she said in turn, blowing gently on a cup of tea that Rachel had just poured her. “Times like these, we all need to do our part. I know I might not be able to do much, mind you. My leg’s been acting up something fierce, as of late, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

Something clicked. All at once, the curtains pulled back and Karkat saw the whole picture—saw maybe not what it always was, and certainly not what the Lalondes achieved on any sort of regular basis, but what it was supposed to be, how it was meant to work.

On Alternia, everyone lived in constant competition. Trolls had to be strong as close to all the time as they possibly could, or at the very least find a moirail who could, because otherwise their society wouldn’t particularly care much if they died. That just meant they didn’t deserve to be a part of the gene pool or to contribute to society. If they were injured badly and left vulnerable, it was seen as normal for others to take advantage of that weakness and exert power or outright kill a rival. It was how they survived so long, or so the cultural narrative had so long stated: by this competition, the strongest survive. Nevermind that this survival was built on the corpses of uncountable trolls who didn’t make the cut, it Worked.

As a result, trolls had been bewildered just as Karkat had by how humans as a species managed to be so frail and yet so reckless and to still survive, especially when they didn’t exactly have the kind of numbers that trolls did. Humans lacked the numbers to be expendable, lacked the strength and toughness that kept Trolls alive, and yet they looked Death in the eye and pointed and laughed, and pushed themselves to extremes for no purpose other than to have some warped idea of fun. It was a question that had lingered around his consciousness for ages; how the fuck do humans even work as a species? How had such a seemingly doomed race not died off yet?

The answer that hit him now, as he watched Roxy help Dirk stand up and balance himself on a pair of crutches, was that humans didn’t have to be strong all the time, and that was the magic of their little social units, their families—they took care of each other. No one person had to be good at everything, or so good at one thing that it could keep them safe in any situation. It didn’t matter that their skin was thin or that they weren’t particularly strong or fast, they always, always had others around who would pick up the slack, others who would come even across oceans to offer what aid they could in times of strife; they weaved together all their strengths and weaknesses into a fabric able to withstand just about anything. Fuck, no wonder they’d wanted Dave back so badly. The Lalondes may have been less a tapestry and more a patchwork quilt, but it was still their quilt, and Dave was a part of it….

He felt a near-agonizing pang of envy that he didn’t have a quilt of his own. Humans might have been stupid about a lot of things, but this…this they’d gotten right.

“Fucking water? Is that really the best you could think of? Fucking dumbass,” Dave muttered to himself. God. This was stupid. This was all really fucking stupid. He couldn’t even deal with being alone while he was asleep, for Chrissakes! Too scared of nightmares of a big mean dog, like some fuckin’ little kid.

Yeah, he was tired, but he really, really didn’t wanna be alone right now, was the thing. Not with that fucking troll-drug-induced nightmare lingering around the edges, waiting to chase him down again at its first chance. But. Like. Karkat was kind of right? Bros don’t watch each other sleep, that’s fuckin’ creepy. Like. Okay, so maybe they’d done a bit of that way back when Karkat had been kidnapped, but they didn’t have a choice back then, and anyways they mostly slept at the same time during that experience, which was super different from just asking his best alien friend to fuckin’ hold his hand so the bad dreams wouldn’t get him. Fuck.

So he’d asked Karkat to refill his glass, even though he wasn’t thirsty right now, because it was an excuse to make Karkat come back, at least for a few more minutes, and they could talk for a bit, and maybe Dave’d stop being tired, wouldn’t that be rad.

Karkat came back in looking really thoughtful. He handed the glass over, and Dave took a sip to try and look like he hadn’t been 100% bullshitting there, and mumbled a thanks as he set it down. Then, just as a thought, he jerked his head toward the rest of the bed—it was a big king-sized one, probably left over from before the divorce and Mom had just never downsized or whatever, so there was a lot of space to Dave’s right—and told Karkat he could sit down if he wanted, Dave wasn’t gonna, like, pass out right this minute or anything, haha.

Karkat stayed quiet, which was fuckin’ weird, but he did sit down. He stared at the sheets for a minute, and then spoke up suddenly, saying, “I think I get it.”

“Get what?” said Dave.

“Why they wanted you back so bad,” said Karkat. “I mean, way back when you were first arrested. I kind of fought with Dirk over it at one point, because my only experience with the word Dirk used for why you should be with him was fucking Strider. And also I think I get why this shit all works, for humans in general. I mean, I’m probably just saying obvious shit, but it’s not how trolls work, we don’t take care of each other, not like this.”

Dave tipped his head.

“I mean with the whole fucking family thing,” Karkat said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been trying to get it this whole time, but this shit’s used to justify so much bullshit with you humans, and I think I get it now, and why it’s so fucking important to you as a species.”

Dave snorted. “Dude, it’s not that big a thing—”

“It is, though! It just seems normal to humans because it’s how you always work, but, Dave, I’m serious, back on Alternia it’s every troll for themself. Maybe you have one person who has your back if you’ve got a moirail, maybe some are lucky like me and have friends who are actually consistently on your side and won’t take the first chance they get to kill you or fuck you up some other way, but we definitely don’t have a whole cluster of others we can just fall back on any time we’re met with something we can’t handle alone.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Dave started, but Karkat just kept going. Apparently he’d had some sort of fuckin’ epiphany in the past two minutes.

“It took me so fucking long to get this, but I get it now! You know what I don’t get, though, is why the fuck you ever tried to convince me that Strider is part of your fucking family.”

Something in Dave dropped like a stone.

He’d…had a similar thought, really. Repeatedly. Multiple times, over the past week or so. He’d been kind of trying to avoid it, because every time it popped up, he got really stressed out.

“And don’t give me any of the bullshit about being ‘related’ or what the fuck ever, I don’t wanna hear it,” Karkat kept right on going. “I still don’t get why you humans care so much about that. The whole point of this family thing is that you all take care of each other, not that you’re related or whatever! Your aunt’s here, did you know that? She flew across an entire fucking ocean just to make sure she could help out you and Dirk! What the fuck did Strider ever do for you?”

It was a good question. And the answer, of course, was: aside from trying to kill him, do you mean? Hahaha.

Karkat was still talking, but Dave wasn’t really hearing him. Fuck, this had been a mistake, he should’ve taken his chances with the fucking nightmare dog. That was better than this old song and dance with his own thoughts.

The facts were pretty simple. He’d operated under pretty clear logic when he went up against Bro: We’re family, so he loves me, so therefore if I ask him to let me leave and explain that I really can’t deal with this, he’ll let me go. Except, Bro had tried to kill him, which meant that…

That was as far as Dave ever got. He couldn’t think any farther than that.

He felt like…like the next thought should be obvious, but he couldn’t make himself think it. It was too big—not so much a square peg in a round hole as it was trying to cram a grain silo into a pinhole, and the thought threatened to overwhelm and destroy him, so instead of thinking it, his brain kept rejecting it, the effect being like a broken record skip-skip-skipping, over and over, repeating the last thought he could get to before the Big One, because he couldn’t not think the Big One, either…

It was so fucking stupid, it was just a thought, why couldn’t he…

“Hah, yeah, now that you mention it, I guess I was always kinda wrong about this shit, wasn’t I?” Dave said, unable to stop the sardonic laughter bubbling up in his throat. “I mean, fuck, no wonder it took you so long to get, I probably gave you the wrong idea. My dumb ass was convinced he’d never try to kill me, cuz we’re family, and, well, here we fuckin’ are!”

Skip, skip, skip—

Karkat was still talking in stuttered phrases in the gaps of Dave’s own flood of words, looking almost scared, but Dave didn’t comprehned any of them, and anyway, the ranting had started, there was no stopping this shit now. “Like, what the fuck was I even thinking, right? I really thought that was gonna work, that somehow he’d just let me go if I asked, like a fucking idiot! Haha, what a fuckin’ dipshit, right?! And here I was thinking he—” Frantic laughter bubbled up, overtaking the words, not that more would’ve come, that next thought was just too big. Was he crying? Fuck, Karkat didn’t need to see any of this shit, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t think

Skip, skip, skip, skip, skipskipskipskipskipskip—

It wasn’t Karkat’s fault. It really wasn’t. He might’ve set it off, but the storm had been building up for days, now, and it broke hard, sweeping Dave up in a torrent of just wordless mental screaming. He couldn’t think the next thought. He couldn’t. But the thing was damming him up, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore, and he was stuck in the middle and left to just completely melt down and dissipate into the flood.

A sound like a cicada crossed with the creakiest horror movie door ever to creak ripped through the tides, and suddenly Dave found himself tugged into a full body hug, wrapped up in four limbs with his face pressed into a thick sweater. The touch dragged him out of the flood and onto dry land, brought him back into now before he even knew what was happening. Karkat’s whole chest was vibrating with some intense cricket-cat hybrid purr, and this should’ve been so embarrassing but he was so tired and so lost and it was fucking comforting, so who the fuck cared. Who cared anymore. It was all bullshit. He could be embarrassed later.

Too soon, Karkat seemed to have the same thought, and tried to pull away. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t—fuck, I’m so sorry, this is really presumptive and I know you aren’t even into boys,” he babbled.

Dave groaned, wrapping his arms around Karkat’s chest and pulling him close. “Dude, if you try to make this about alien romance right now, I swear to fuck,” he gasped out between harsh sobs. Christ, he was going harder than Karkat did like twenty minutes earlier, what the fuck.

Karkat paused. Good. It meant his warm arms were still there. “Dave, I…I mean, this is troll romance, this is textbook moiraillegience, and I shouldn’t just be throwing myself at you because you had a moment of weakness, no matter how bad I, uh.”

Dave sniffled, wracked his brain for a moment…Karkat had explained this stuff about a million times, which one was…”That’s like…the bros quadrant, right?”

“The what.”

“The one that’s, like, platonic and shit.”

“…Yeah?” The cricket-purr started up again, cautiously.

“We fuckin’ kinda do most of that shit already, don’t we?” Like. Yeah. He wasn’t gay. That was still a thing. But Karkat was warm and solid and real and Dave was fucking exhausted and didn’t want to be alone, especially not when he felt right now like he was wrapped in safety. “Please, Karkat,” he added, because why not beg. He was already at maximum pathetic, there was no digging this hole lower, fuck it. “I really don’t wanna be alone right now, just, please don’t go.”

Karkat was quiet for a long moment, but finally, the cricket-purr went back to full volume and Karkat’s arms tightened around him.

“Okay,” Karkat said quietly. Dave let out a breath he’d barely known he’d been holding and went back to crying.

“We’re going to have to talk about this later,” Karkat murmured, which put him at about normal volume for anyone else.

“Later, then,” said Dave, and let himself finally fall the fuck asleep.

#dave strider #karkat vantas #davekat #roxy lalonde #longpost//#u BET UR BUTT THIS OENS GOIN IN THE DAVEKAT TAG #ITS ABOUT TIME #fanfic #fanfiction #calmvsstormfic #calmvsstormchapter #katt does a writing #jkdfsgfjhsfjshf not the best start to a relationship but like its something #lord this got long.#why tf did i think 32 and 33 would ever fit into one chapter.

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pandatypewriter · 7 years

Text

B.A.P Le Noir AU Chapter 10 (Jongup): A New Game

Sorry this took so long! I was suppose to post this some time at noon, but then I went out to LA soooo yeah haha XD The request half of this weekend will be posted tomorrow so be sure to check that out too!

“I hate this…” The detective groaned piling the Emperor Dragon’s case files into a large box. The elder detective let out a snort, patting the younger on the back. “It’s a gang case, why the hell would the higher ups need to be involved?”

“Get used to it kid, once the chief mentioned special agents I knew this case was going to be swept away from us,” The elder sighed, placing the last case file in the box and leaning back to adjust his back. A nice pop released. “And speaking of the devils…” The detective sneered seeing two special agents enter the precinct.

“Jackson take the boxes back to headquarters.” Special Agent Im nodded towards the boxes the detective laid out. Special Agent Wang looked at his leader with pleading eyes.

“Jaebum, those boxes probably weigh a ton and you want me to carry them by myself?” Jackson came over to the boxes and mocked carried them, dramatically emphasizing how heavy they are.

“Of course, you’re the strongest of the group so that’s why I specifically called you for help.” Jaebum smirked seeing how the boy’s eyes lit up at his words. It was easy to persuade Jackson for help.

“Well why didn’t you say that before? Of course! It makes total sense why you didn’t call the others now.” Jackson beamed with pride at his strength as he carried both boxes without any worry or sweat. Jaebum let out a snort of amusement at his teammate’s innocence.

“I would like to thank you all for you cooperation.” Jaebum flashed the detectives a trained polite smile. He was taught to be local law enforcement plus a small part of him was nostalgic, remembering he was like the two detectives at one point in his life.

“More like forced cooperation.” The younger detective sneered, earning him a smack on the back of the head by the elder detective.

“Sorry about this punk. He doesn’t know when to shut his mouth sometimes.” The elder sighed, only causing Jaebum to flash them a genuine smile.

“It’s fine. I can see where he’s coming from.” Jaebum couldn’t help remember when he was just like that young detective. Young, dumb, and short-tempered as hell.

“This is it?” Jaebum raised a brow as Special Agent Tuan handed him a file.

“Yep, we sifted through all the gun deals, murders, and human trafficking files, but this was the only one that we found about the informants.” Mark noted as he began filing the documents away into a digital database.

Jaebum took the thin file from him, scanning through it’s contents briefly. Pieces to a larger puzzle. Information on possible informants embedded in rival gangs reporting on activity...but not to the Emperor Dragons. Jaebum chewed on his bottom lip, analyzing the file’s contents. It seems that the Emperor Dragons weren’t too happy that their ‘partners’ were keeping tabs on them. The INF. This unknown being that seemed to have all the cards in their hand, all the chess pieces, while the cops were playing blind. It wasn’t too surprising that the INF would embed spies throughout the criminal world, after all the goal of the organization seems to be ultimate control.

“It seems like the Emperor Dragon’s were collecting their own data…” Marked handed Jaebum another file dictating information on informants that the Emperor Dragons were able to pick out.

“We’ll keep this under wraps, we don’t want to let INF know we’re on to them…” Jaebum chewed his lower lip as he continued to reading this file. “It seems like the Emperor Dragons were frequenting this club lately...Le Noir?” A small smirk spread on his face. “Let’s see what caught their attention so much.”

You let out a slight sigh as you mindlessly wandered the city streets. It was strange not being busy, not being surrounded by the familiar scent of nicotine and booze. You didn’t know how long it had been since you last step foot in Le Noir. Time seemed to being going so slow during times of peace. It was unsettling. You were too used to the chaos, the excitement, that peace seemed so mundane. You scoffed at your own thoughts. You were starting to sound like Jongup. Quite terrifying.

This was the at least the third night you simply wandered the streets, allowing your feet to lead you everywhere and nowhere. They always seemed to lead you to one place. Under the bright fluorescent sign of Le Noir. But you would never enter. It wasn’t as if you were scared or traumatized to enter your home, but you weren’t ready just yet. You needed sometime to think. To come to terms with the fact that you weren’t as invincible as you thought you were. That you were fragile.That you were still that naive girl you were years ago. You needed some time to rebuild yourself.

“Looks like you’ve put yourself back together,” You jumped at the familiar, unwarranted voice. Jongup leaned up against the brick wall of the club, the same devilish grin on his face. “I was beginning to worry.”

“Worried or bored?” You scoffed, pulling your coat tighter around your body to keep yourself warm from the harsh cold. Jongup chuckled slowly sauntering towards you like a snake slithering towards it’s prey.

“Worried, bored, same thing is it not?” He boredly shrugs as he leans in, the warmth his breath fanning your cheek. “I’ve missed my little marion.” He snickered as you rolled your eyes.

“I’m sure you did,” Sarcasm dripping from your words. “Where are your keepers?” You raised a brow, noticing that the other boys weren’t around.

“I’m hurt, marion. I personally come out to check if you might be around and you care for those mundane fellows?” Jongup’s cheshire grin never leaving his face. “If you must know they are in the backroom of your establishment.” Your face scrunched up when you noticed the mess that covered his face. Now under better lighting, you noticed the splotches of blood that covered his cheeks and partially his knuckles. All his victim’s you assumed. Jongup didn’t seem like the type to bleed.

“It seems you’ve been making a mess around my club…” You instinctively reached out and gently wiped the smudge away from Jongup’s cheek. The puppet master flinched. This was the second time you saw this happen.

You didn’t know if it was the odd sympathy you felt for him or the strange emotions you felt towards him since that night, but the disgust and alertness you felt for him seemed to have dim. You obviously could not completely trust the sly devil, but a small part of you knew the one truth about him. He was hurt. So deeply that even the slightest kind touch or tenderness made his instincts go on high alert from the unfamiliarity. It was quite sad once you thought about it. To never feel love. Affection. You were privileged to have all of that despite the seedy life you lived in. But Jongup? It seems he had been in the darkest hell and never came back up.

Jongup froze at your sudden touch. He was not expecting such….tenderness….comfort? He couldn’t quite put a name to the emotion he was feeling. It was new. Different. And he did not like it one bit. You would always conjure these weird emotions from him…He would always find a way to divert them. Ignore the strangeness he was feeling, but you simply brought it back with the simplest kind gesture. And he hated it. He hated the loss of power. The loss of control. The lack of understanding. He hated that you made him feel powerless at times, but he couldn’t get rid of you like he could with others. You were too intriguing, too interesting to simply let slip through his grasp. You were his marion. He was going to grab a hold of you, consume your mind, take control of your entire being. Whether it was your choice or not.

“Some rats came to play. I was simply getting rid of the mess,” He yawned, removing your hand from his cheek. “I even had the courtesy to dump them in the trash for you.”

Rats. Emperor Dragons. Or what was left of them. Jongup confused you at times. He could be so cruel, so ruthless, and bloodthirsty. But you would see these small glimmers of humanity in him. You didn’t know if it appeared simply because he found it entertaining to see how you react to a sudden change of character or he truly had some humanity in him. You didn’t know. He was the one man that you simply couldn’t get a read on. His eyes were so empty, lifeless like he was a doll himself. His mind, intangible. He had walls that were so high and wide that you didn’t even know where to begin to overcome them. You didn’t even know if you should. Did you care for this psycho? You didn’t know. You felt something for him. A part of you wanted to give him tenderness and affection that he seemed to lack. Was it the motherly instinct in you? It may have been. He reminded you of some of your girls when you first saved them from the street. The only difference is that you were in time to save them. But no one was there to save Jongup.

“Thank you…” Your words were simply a murmur, but they left Jongup slightly stunned. Again, you were full of surprises and for once he did not know how to respond. He was expecting a witty sarcastic comment, or a scolding. But not gratitude. Those strange feelings once again conjuring up inside of him.

“You’re thanking me?” He let out a slightly maniacal laughter. “Oh dear, it seems that little marion here is missing a screw or two,” He leaned in, his lips mere inches from yours, but you didn’t falter or move. You told him that you would stop running and that’s exactly what you were doing. “Didn’t I tell you before that if the game is too easy, it’s no fun.”

“And didn’t I tell you that I wasn’t running away anymore?” You cocked an eyebrow. Jongup paused for a moment, his smile slightly faltering until it merely changed to a wider grin.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, marion, and I don’t know if you will make it back in one piece…” He chuckles, he gently runs the back of his hand down the side of your face.

“And I don’t know if you’ll win.” A small smirk of your own spread across your dark red lips. Jongup stepped back from you, going into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“My dear sweet naive marion. The more I warn you to leave the more you seem to flock towards danger,” Jongup tilted your chin upwards, tilting his head to the side curiously. “What makes you tick, marion? What can make such a naive little thing run towards something they should obviously stay away from them? Why venture further into the darkness when the both of us can continue playing this little game of ours?”

“I’m done playing the small games. I want the real challenge. What makes you tick Moon Jongup?” Your stare unwavering from his. Both of you seem to be reading the other, but not understanding a thing. It was truly a game of cat and mouse. Predator and prey. One trying to tame the other.

“Moon Jongup. Surprised to see you here instead of jail.” Jongup let out a bored sigh, creating a space between the two of you as Special Agent Im approached the two of you. A small smirk on the tall, handsome fellow’s face.

“And I will never be in jail if you are all bark and no bite.” Jongup smirk as he saw Jaebum’s brow knit together in frustration.

“Watch your words, Moon, because the moment you slip up you can be sure I will arrest your ass,” Jaebum growled, his frustration increasing as the sly smirk on Jongup’s face grew wider. Oh he knew the infamous reputation of the Moon Jongup. He was already part of the crime world before he even joined BAP. Assault, murder, robbery. His rap sheet was almost as long as could go on for days. But he was a lone wolf. Never collaborating with fellow criminals, let alone join a gang. That is until BAP came into the picture. Jaebum always wondered what caused the demented man to suddenly change his ways. “And I would suggest that you should stay away from this man, Miss. He is dangerous.”

A small smile spread across your lips. As if you were new to danger, let alone that of Moon Jongup. “So I’ve heard.”

“Marion, here, is the type to learn things the hard way.” His grin spread, eyeing you with a smug look in his eyes. You rolled your eyes at his action, but the amused smirk never leaving your lips.

Jaebum stared at the two of you confused, not understanding how a beautiful young lady such as yourself would ever associate with someone like Jongup. Your ruby tinted lips and beautiful smile would capture any man in a heartbeat, yet you chose the attention of a psychotic man who treated human life as a pawn for his sick mental games. Perhaps you were as sick as he was? Or perhaps you had your own vendetta? The marionette wanting to control the puppet master?

“So why are you here?” You raised an eyebrow, approaching Jaebum. “Law enforcement doesn’t usually come here,” Leaning in so that your lips were near his ear. “Too afraid of the danger.” A shiver ran down Jaebum’s spine at your smooth, sultry voice. You were the dangerous one. A vixen.

“I can assure you, beautiful, that I am not like any other law enforcement.” Jaebum smirked back, trying to regain his composure. It was tough, though. It was as if you could see right through him. One simple glance and you could read him like a book.

“Then did you come here to see little ol me?” Jongup raised a brow, leaning against the walls of Le Noir.

“No,” Jaebum growled, glaring at the Jongup. “I’ve come here to check out this place.” Jaebum pointed at the sign of Le Noir, glimmering under the moonlit night.

“And what business do you have with my establishment?” You crossed your arms, your playful expression faded away into complete seriousness. After all the hell you went through, no one was to mess with your home. You didn’t care if it was local law enforcement, criminal syndicate, or federal law enforcement. You would ensure that Le Noir was not collateral damage.

“Your establishment?” Jaebum couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. Now everything began to make some sense. Of course, someone who grew up in these streets and lifestyle would be able to handle gangsters like Jongup. It was in your blood.

“Yes. Is that a problem?” You raised an eyebrow. If he thought that the crime world was that of a man’s world, he was utterly wrong.

“No, that just makes my task much easier. I have some questions to ask you Miss…”

“Y/N. If you call me anything else I will take it as personal insult.” Jaebum let out a snort at your words. A feisty vixen.

“Then Y/N, if you would be so kind and answer a few questions of mine.” Jaebum leaned in, a smug grin on his face. It was a first for him to interact with a femme fatale and how he enjoyed it much more than dealing with the disgruntled men he usually encountered.

“Ah-ah, too close,” Jongup placed a hand between the you and Jaebum to create some form of distance. “I don’t like sharing my toys, Im.”

“And who says I don’t like to be shared?” You scoffed, removing Jongup’s hand from your line of sight so that you were once again face to face with Jaebum.

“Looks like your ‘toy’ doesn’t like listening to you, Moon.” Jaebum snickered. How interesting to see someone outwardly defy the demented psycho of the underworld.

“If she did then it would be too boring, no? Makes taming her more fun.” Jongup shot Jaebum a arrogant smirk, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Of course he doesn’t want you to simply be a mindless puppet for him to manipulate. That would be too dull. Too simple. He wanted his defiant marionette.

“You two boys are the ones that need to be tamed,” You sneered, not enjoying that the two of them were talking as if you were not present. “Now Special Agent Im, what business do you have with my establishment and myself?”

“I wanted to ask you about the Emperor Dragons.” Jaebum noted the stiffness of your body at the mention of the infamous game. He also noticed the usual devilish expression of Jongup now contorted to something darker and sinister.

“And what about them?” You cleared your throat, not wanting for some stupid trauma to unnerve you. What’s done is done and the past cannot be changed so you didn’t wish for it to affect you.

“We have information that they have been visiting Le Noir lately, and we wanted to know if you’ve noticed suspicious activity.” You couldn’t help but let out a burst of laughter at Jaebum’s words. Suspicious activity? Did he forget where you worked?

“Honey, I own a bar meant for gangsters and mob men. There is probably suspicious activity happening every minute,” You giggled. You didn’t know if Special Agent Jaebum was pulling your leg or was more than innocent that he appeared to be. The opposite of the glowering puppet master beside you. “And, even if there was suspicious activity, I wouldn’t tell you. I’m no snitch.” You shot him a sly smile.

“Then you’re impeding a federal investigation, Y/N. And I’ll have to haul your pretty little ass back to headquarters for interrogation.” Jaebum flashed a cocky smile, liking your nerve and fearlessness.

“Try me. I don’t mind be in handcuffs.” You smirked back, not faltering a bit at his threat.

Jaebum let out a snort before rummaging in his pocket, pulling out his business card. “Maybe another time. Until then, call me if you see anything out of place.”

You flashed him your rehearsed polite smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t.” You plucked the card from Jaebum’s arm who let out a scoff before retreating back to his head quarters.

“First you wish to play a game with me and then you play with authorities, marion. You really have no fear do you?” Jongup snickered, amused by your actions and recklessness. You truly were a bag of surprises.

“Looks like you’re rubbing off on me.” You shrugged placing the card in your coat pocket.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing.” Jongup chuckled. But it wasn’t his usual maniacal chuckle or borderline insane laughter. There was a hint of something hidden within that laugh. Another emotion that you’ve never heard from said man.

The two were now stuck in this game. Neither of you willing to run away, neither one of you willing to yield. He wanted control. He wanted to play around, fool around with his new toy. Yet at the same time he refused to allow you to fall, to break. Such conflicting thoughts and wants that you couldn’t understand. Yet you did want to understand. No matter how many times you tried to push him away, tell yourself he was dangerous, deadly, insane, you kept wanting to understand what was going in his mind. What made him so broken, heartless, merciless. You wanted to stay away, but yet you wanted to fix him. It confused him. He did not know how to react to such interest. Such a pure emotion. For a man who only lived and seen darkness, to see something so pure within his grasp frustrated him. He did not know whether to reach out and crush it or to simply observe it, see what may or may not occur. The two of you were playing a dangerous game where someone would get hurt. You just didn’t know who.

“I don’t know either….”

Thanks for reading! Comments and feedback are welcome!

#bap #b.a.p #bap scenario #b.a.p scenario #bap scenarios #b.a.p scenarios #moon jongup #jongup #bap moon jongup #bap jongup #b.a.p moon jongup #b.a.p jongup

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opaque-daydream · 7 years

Text

Broken 15

Warning: Domestic Violence

Broken 15

You were pacing the waiting room. When you got to the hospital it didn’t take them long to get Bucky back to prep him for surgery. You stayed with him up until they took him back. One of the nurses showed you the waiting room, and explained that the doctor would be out once he was done with surgery and you would be led to the recovery room afterwards.

You had already spoken to Steve and let him know he went back, Bucky’s surgery was schedules for 7 am, and it was now noon. The news was playing on the waiting room TV, and you took to pacing the floor.

“Family of James Barnes” a voice called out and you whipped around to see a woman in a lab coat standing near the entrance.

“That would be me” you said softly making your way over.

“Good afternoon Ma’am, I’m Dr. Cho. Mr. Barnes has made it through surgery just fine, he is currently in recovery. Someone will come get you in an hour or so, and we can go over after care at that time” she smiled at you. You nodded to her. “Now if you will excuse me I have other patients” she said as she excused herself.

Once she was gone you let out a sigh of relief as you pulled your phone out of your pocket and clicked on Steve’s contact. “Hey” you said as soon as you heard the phone pick up.

“How is Buck” Steve ask

“The Dr. just came out, he did well in surgery he is in recovery now I can go back in around an hour.” You told him, “I will call you when I know more” you added.

“Ok cricket. Thanks for going with him” he told you.

“Nowhere I would rather be Stevie, he’s family” you told him honestly.

“I know”

“Call you when I get back to see him Stevie” you told him before hanging up.

Once you hung up with Steve, you called Nat to let her know. “Hey Nattie” you said as soon as she said hello.

“How is Barnes” she ask you.

“He made it through surgery ok” you told her.

“Good, if he didn’t I would have to find a new adversary” she replied but you could hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah I know you two have been at odds since day one” you shook your head even though you knew she couldn’t see her.

“Video him if he says something stupid” she told you and you laughed, you knew that was her way of asking you to keep her updated.

“I will Nat” you told her as you hung up. You put your phone back into your purse and walked to the vending machine, you hadn’t been able to even stomach the thought of eating or drinking anything while Bucky was in surgery by you were thirsty.

You fished through your purse and pulled out a dollar and tweny five cents and pushed the button for Y/F drink. Once you had it in your hand you headed back to the waiting room to wait for someone to come and get it you. You didn’t have to wait long when a nurse came out, “James Barnes” she called out.

“Yes Ma’am” you ask coming up to her.

“I will take you back if you will follow me” She told you leading you back through the hallways, “He will be groggy” She warned you.

You nodded that you understood as she leads you back to the room that he was in. He was laying there on the bed covered to the waist wearing the standard hospital gown his eyes closed, but you noticed that the prosthetic was there attached where his arm had been severed from the shoulder and you tried to hide your shock that it was metal.

“He will be fine dear” the nurse assured as she patted your arm.

“Sorry, I just I didn’t think it would be metal” you breathed out.

“It’s stronger” a voice said from behind you causing you to jump, “Tony Stark” a man said coming into your line of vision.

“Mr. Stark” you nodded, your hand still over your heart where he startled you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you” He gave you a charming smile, “It’s a proto type” he told you as he took your hand in his and kissed it.

“Hands off” Bucky’s voice slurred from the bed.

“afternoon Sunshine” Tony said dropping your hand and heading over to the hospital bed, “Don’t worry your girl is safe, my Pepper is all I can handle” he laughed, “But I just wanted to stop by and see Dr. Cho’s work in person looks good Buckaroo, I will be in touch and if you have any problems call me” and just like Tony Stark arrived he was gone.

The nurse went to Bucky’s side, “Mr. Barnes how are you feeling” she asks.

“Like I’ve been run over” he groaned.

“That’s normal, we will get you something for pain, and nausea” she asks.

“No” he mumbled.

“Ok just let us know if you need anything, I will also be bringing some crackers and something for you to drink” She added as she left the room.

You made your way over to Bucky’s bedside, “Hey” you told him softly.

“Doll” He smiled at you

“How are you really feeling Buck” you ask him as you moved a piece of hair out of his face.

“Better now” he told you turning to look at his left arm, “This is gonna hurt when the medicine wears off” he muttered to himself.

“Hopefully not to bad” you told him as you pulled up a chair, “Steve called to check on you”

“Tell him I’m the bionic man” Bucky told you

“I’ll be sure to let him know the next time he calls” You assure him.

“Think I can talk him into arm wrestling me” Bucky ask and by the look on his face you can tell he is thinking hard about something.

“Maybe” you answer, and Bucky looks like he was going to say something else when the nurse walks back in and places a small coke and a couple packs of crackers on the bedside table.

“Mr. Barnes, I need you to drink and eat something, the sooner we can get you up and moving the sooner we can let you out of here”

“Gimmie” he made grabby hands for the crackers she had brought.

You opened a pack of the crackers and handed him one as the nurse set up his bed. He ate the cracker and the nurse shook her head at him. “Your not in a race Mr. Barnes” She chided.

“Just don’t want you to change your mind, I’m cute you may try to keep me”

She laughed as she started out of the room, “let me know if he needs anything else”

“Bucky” you smiled as you put the straw in his coke, and brought it to him so he could take a drink. He did and then he smiled.

“Its true I am cute” he smirked.

“Uh huh” you agreed and tried not to blush.

It took another hour and a half for them to discharge Bucky, with directions to rest, not to get his arm wet for another 48 hours, eat and then a whole list of reasons and situations on why he should come back to the hospital. They also reminded him he had a follow up appointment with Dr. Cho tomorrow to make sure everything was in order before he headed back home.

They wheeled him out to the front doors of the hospital, and a taxi was waiting for you. You slipped inside after Bucky giving the driver the address and got to the hotel. Once there you paid the driver and then ushered Bucky out and up to the room. You sighed as he pressed the button for every floor from the lobby to your room, and when you gave him a look he mumbled that he liked the lights. You couldn’t help but laugh.

Once you made it to your room you helped him to lay down. You were glad that the hospital had a pharmacy so that you could get the prescriptions for antibiotics and pain medication filled before you had left. You placed the bottles on the bedside table and let a small smile grace your face as you noticed that Bucky had already fell asleep.

You called and let Steve know you were back at the hotel and that Bucky was fine, and that you were going to get some rest while he was sleeping. Once done you set the alarm on your phone for the next time Bucky needed to take his medication, turned the lights off and dropped into bed yourself.

The next day was spent in the hotel room, expect for Bucky’s follow up appointment. He griped and groaned every time you told him it was time to take his medicine, complaining that it made him tired, and all he wanted to do was sleep. It was another of those times, you had just gotten back from getting the ok to travel back home tomorrow and you had ordered room service. Once you both ate, you got his prescription bottle.

“I think we can wait a little bit” Bucky told you laying back on the bed but he groaned.

“Bucky, you need to take your medicine Doctor’s orders” you told him as you came over holding one of his pills out to him.

“Peanut, I am a doctor” he told you.

“Bucky, you don’t want the pain to get ahead of you” You tried and gave him a small smile.

“But they make me sleepy” he frowned.

“Good thing we have nothing else planned for today. Seriously take your medicine we can find a movie on the tv and just rest while I am here to make you.” You told him.

“What you think I won’t rest when we get back home” he ask.

“Exactly” you nodded as you dropped the pill in his hand and he took it grimacing. You handed him a bottle of water and picked up the remote flipping through the TV channels. “Now watch mind numbing tv with me”

“Fine” He sighed as he patted the space beside him. You carefully got on the bed and handed him the remote

“I will even let you pick” you added tongue in cheek.

He laughed and it caused you to smile. You loved Bucky’s laugh you always had and to be honest even though he was recovering from Surgery this was one of the best weekends you had in a long while, “I’m almost sad we have to go home tomorrow” you told him.

“Me to Peanut, Me to” he told you.

*** Tags***

@marvel-fanfiction @smile-sugar @avengersfluff @zxcorra @steggy4ever @bethabear12 @pinkleopardss @jim-im-a-doctor-not-a-physicist @engineeringgirlcve @buckyappreciationsociety

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine

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vampire-weekdayss · 7 years

Text

i was tagged by @as-blue-as-batman !! a / age: 17 b / biggest fear: abandonment c / current time: 4:42pm d / drink you had last: lemongrass green tea ! e / everyday starts with: weekdays start with my alarm going off n quickly getting up and putting on something i can walk to the bathroom in so i can brush my teeth and leave bc tbh i only wake up 15 minutes before i have to leave for school, weekends consist of waking up at noon and laying in bed for 3 hours f / favorite song: karma by snak the ripper, from the dirt by snak, eight hours a day by snak, really im going through a phase where i just love snak the ripper more than usual idk but he's from here and also his music is my sketchy ass surrey childhood g / ghosts are real: !!!!yes!!!!! h / hometown: white rock/south surrey i / in love with: u j / jealous of: deadass my sister everyone was talking about how hot she is after i posted a picture of us on ig and she's just basically the improved version of me tbh rip k / killed someone: what the fuck l / last time you cried: i literally almost cried on the bus home today cus i was comparing myself to my sister so much rip m / middle name: i hate my middle name n / number of siblings: 2 that i know n lov, 2 step siblings, 2 dead step/half siblings, and 8 half siblings on my biological fathers side that ive never met o / one wish: that * still loved me :// p / person you last called/ texted: last person i called was zach, last person i texted was paddy q / questions you’re always asked: "are you asian?" "how tall are you?" s / song last sang: im going nowhere by fidlar t / time I woke up: 7am v / vacation destination: new zealand 2018 !! w / worst habit: leaving dishes in my room, laying in bed listening to sad music until i get emo abt u not loving me anymore, x / x-rays you have had: none y / your favorite food: sushi z / zodiac sign: Pisces ! i tag literally whoever wants to do this like literally just say i tagged u n ill add ur user to this post tbh

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zell-dincht · 7 years

Text

It's High-namura Noon

Chapter One Words: 3029 Warnings: None for now, besides a brawl. Summary: First off, I just want to say that spite is a powerful motivator. Without it, this fic would never exist. So thank you, random internet jagoff #374 who said, “But Hanzo is Japanese.” No fucking shit, Sherlock, but thank you, because without your uninformed comment of calling my idea a “shitty AU,” I would never have intended on writing this at all. Cheers.

Anyway, loosely inspired by Shanghai Noon, but in a modern setting, obviously with backstories suitably appropriate for the characters involved. I say “loosely” because obviously it’s not - and cannot be - a direct ripoff, but you’ll see certain similarities. Call me salty or butthurt or whatever, I don’t give a shit what you call me because this idea has made people Mad and that’s a win, in my books. Anyway. Here’s the first chapter of what I’ve lovingly nicknamed “the spitefic.”

(Also posted to my AO3

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Once the plane finally landed in the United States, Hanzo removed a cheap flip phone from his small travel bag. Instead of using his usual smartphone and worrying about international fees and the general hassle of out-of-country service, he opted to buy a temporary burner phone for his very brief time in the States.

His brother Genji had been attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, but lately there had been some issues with his grades slipping. As the problem grew worse, Genji also neglected several attempts by his family to contact him. So, their father tasked Hanzo with travelling to Boston and bringing Genji back to Japan.

As soon as the pilot gave the okay to use cellular devices, Hanzo used the number pad to laboriously type out a text:

”Genji, this is your brother. I have just landed in Boston, as I’m sure you’re already aware, after the numerous messages Father and I have left you. I expect to see you at your apartment soon.”

Outside, there were plenty of taxis ready to pick up the various travelers exiting the airport. Hanzo easily hailed a cab and gave the driver Genji’s address.

Their father had paid not only for Genji’s tuition, but also his rent. Seeing that he had given everything to his son, the head of the Shimada family felt it was well within his right to take it all away, now that Genji’s behavior had become less than satisfactory. And since he paid for the apartment, their father also had a copy of the key, which he had given to Hanzo to take with him on his trip.

It was a tall, modern building that stood out against the historical aesthetic throughout the city. The way the old buildings mixed with new almost reminded Hanzo of home. Of course, Hanamura was much older than Boston, but he couldn’t help but think of how to this day, his old family manor stood tall as the city around it continued to grow and modernize. Hanzo already felt a little pang of homesickness, and he hadn’t even been off the plane five minutes.

The drive to the apartment didn’t take long. Though he did have a key, Hanzo still remained polite and knocked on the door.

No answer.

He knocked again, this time a bit more loudly, but still, he could hear no sound coming from the other side. Hanzo finally retrieved the key from his bag and let himself into the apartment.

There was a bit more space than one person needed, but most of that space had been taken up with clutter. Empty liquor bottles were scattered throughout the kitchen and living room, along with various articles of clothing. There was no reason Genji shouldn’t be here. He should have expected Hanzo, and besides, it was just the beginning of spring break, so classes shouldn’t have been an issue.

“Genji,” Hanzo called out as he tentatively opened the bedroom door.

Again, the room was empty, aside from more piles of messes. Hanzo frowned and grumbled in frustration as he pulled out the flip phone again, this time to call his brother.

“Yo, you’ve reached Genji’s phone. Leave a message, and I probably still won’t get back to you.” Hanzo took a deep breath, trying not to lose his temper, but spoke in a stern voice, “Genji. I am in your apartment. Please come home immediately. I must speak with you.”

As he waited for a reply, Hanzo called home to let his father know that he arrived safely and to update him on the situation. The conversation was brief, leaving Hanzo to poke around the apartment. The mess confirmed what the Shimada family had suspected all along - instead of applying himself to his studies, Genji had been shirking his responsibilities by spending too much time partying.

A calendar hanging on the kitchen wall caught Hanzo’s eye. The most recent Friday had a big, red circle around it with one word: “PADRE.” A red line extended from Friday and led through the entirety of the week.

So wherever Genji was, something called “Padre” was occupying his time. A little more snooping around the apartment, and Hanzo found his brother’s laptop, left carelessly without password protection, and the passwords to all his accounts were saved on auto-fill as well. It was no trouble for Hanzo to find Genji’s various social media accounts, where he found mention of “Padre Island.”

Knowing that his brother would be visiting, it seemed Genji still decided to take a vacation. Hanzo was not pleased, yet still determined to track down his brother. Since Genji wouldn’t be home anytime soon, Hanzo immediately purchased tickets for a Greyhound bus to San Antonio, and from there, he’d continue towards this island.

The soonest available bus to Texas didn’t depart until the next day, so Hanzo made himself comfortable and spent the night sleeping on the couch.

The next day, he wasted no time leaving the apartment and making his way to the Greyhound station. Along the way, he called his father to update him once again on the situation and notifying him of the delay. His father was furious with Genji, of course, but Hanzo swore he would handle everything on his own.

Travel by bus took much longer than Hanzo expected. He knew the States were big, yet he was still unprepared for the experience. At this point, he could have travelled through half of Japan, yet his journey had only taken him a few states away, and there was still such a long drive down to Texas.

By the time he reached a middle-of-nowhere rest stop in Tennessee, Hanzo regretted not buying another plane ticket. He hadn’t thought another flight would be worth the hassle, but seeing that a trip by bus was so insufferably dull, perhaps a plane would have been wise. But it was too late now. The tickets were purchased, and he didn’t intend to waste money so frivolously. He made his decision, and now he would have to live with it.

As the bus prepared to continue the journey and passengers began to return to their seats, Hanzo spotted the most overbearingly gaudy-looking stereotype of an American. The man looked like he just stepped out of an old spaghetti Western, decked out with a cowboy hat, boots, sarape… the full cowboy getup. He never imagined anyone actually dressed like this for real. Strange, that Hanzo never noticed this man earlier on his trip.

The two suddenly made eye contact, and before Hanzo could look away, embarrassed to be caught staring, the cowboy offered a grin and a wink before sitting down in an empty seat.

After that, Hanzo kept his eyes out the window, watching the scenery. Not that there was much of any scenery, but there wasn’t anything better to look at, anyway. At least, not without the risk of being caught staring again.

“All right, everybody, listen up.” After a while, one of the passengers spoke loudly with a noticeable Southern drawl in his voice.

Hanzo looked up to see that the strange cowboy stood in the aisle as he addressed the bus. Another weasley-looking man excitedly jumped out of his seat as well, joining the cowboy in the aisle.

“Reach for the sky!” the second man announced. “It’s a stick-up!”

The cowboy sighed and muttered softly to his partner, “C’mon, man, that's… this is my thing, all right? Just lemme do the talkin’, and you collect the money.”

“My bad. Sorry, Jesse,” the man said with a sheepish grin.

“No names,” the cowboy hissed, then turned to loudly address the bus once again. “Well you heard ‘im, wallets out. Don’t try anything, and no one gets hurt, all right?”

Since this “Jesse” made his announcement, two other men had also revealed themselves - one in the back of the bus, and the fourth was monitoring the driver, who had begun to pull over on the side of the road.

“Faster you cough it all up, the faster we’ll be on our way,” Jesse continued as his men extorted passengers for their valuables.

As the cowboy made his way to Hanzo, he rested an elbow on the back of a seat and casually leaned in towards the other man.

“How’s it goin’?” Jesse casually asked, as if they weren’t in the middle of a robbery.

Hanzo remained silent and simply gave the man a cold, defiant stare.

“Speechless? I get it, these things can be pretty intimidating,” Jesse flashed a toothy grin, “‘specially for someone who looks so out of his element. You a city boy?”

In response to Hanzo’s continued silence, the cowboy continued, “Foreign? No English?”

Hanzo knit his eyebrows together and scoffed, “Yes, I do speak English, you–”

His sentence was cut off by a sudden shriek coming from the back of the train. Jesse and Hanzo looked up to see the first, mouthy thug roughly grabbing a woman by the arm.

“Guys, guys,” the cowboy called out, “Remember the plan? No violence!”

Seeing his opening, Hanzo launched his fist into Jesse’s gut, and the next blow landed on the cowboy’s jaw. He knew only had a brief moment to take advantage of the gang’s shock, so Hanzo immediately jumped into action and went straight for the man who had been harassing the woman.

The thug released his victim and reached for a gun at his hip, but Hanzo was too quick for him. Gripping the backs of the seats as support, he swung his legs forward and launched himself feet-first at the enemy, slamming him into the back wall of the bus. As the gun fell from his grip, Hanzo kicked it underneath the seats, out of reach. A larger man came at him with a knife, but Hanzo easily deflected the blow and knocked his elbow into the man’s face.

It wasn’t enough to completely disable the two, but it delayed them enough to give Hanzo time to address the thug that still held the bus driver hostage. He turned back towards the front of the aisle, roughly shoving past Jesse on the way. The man at the front turned to face Hanzo, also reaching for a gun, which was once again immediately disarmed.

“Drive!” Hanzo ordered as he grappled with the other man, pinning him to the broad, flat windshield of the bus.

The driver quickly obeyed, slamming his foot down on the gas pedal. The bus swerved down the country road as the driver panicked, but Hanzo skillfully continued to wrestle with the other man. Desperate to not be pushed further, the thug tightly gripped the metal railings that flanked the stairs descending from the bus.

“Open the doors!” Hanzo shouted. The driver hesitated, so he called out to him again, “Do it!”

The driver pulled a lever and as the doors creaked open, Hanzo planted a solid kick to the thug’s chest, launching him out of the bus as it barrelled down the road.

Now that the driver was no longer held hostage, he radioed in to the local police to report what was happening on his bus. In the meantime, Hanzo continued dealing with the rest of the gang that remained. Jesse seemed to be hiding someplace, but Hanzo was more concerned about the two men that he could see, who were still an apparent danger.

“C’mon, he’s just one guy! Get ‘im!” the weasley man shouted as he and the larger thug cautiously advanced down the aisle.

“You get ‘im,” the larger one snapped back.

Hanzo, however, didn’t wait for them to continue arguing. He chose to attack the larger one first, careful not to accidentally hit any of the innocent passengers who had remained huddled in place. The spar proved much more difficult. Not only was this man larger, but Hanzo had already begun to wear down after all the fighting he’d already done. His opponent landed a few blows, but Hanzo never gave up. Even as he fell to the floor, Hanzo had a plan. He swept his leg out, knocking the larger man down with him.

Just as Hanzo leapt on top of the other man, ready to knock him out with just a few more punches, the weasley man shouted over the noise from the brawl. “Hey, hey, now hang on just a minute there!”

Hanzo looked up to see that the man had retrieved his discarded gun and grabbed a young woman as a hostage. “Don’t you move one more muscle!”

“You Americans and your guns,” Hanzo said through clenched teeth. “Only a coward threatens the defenseless.”

The larger thug took advantage of the moment and knocked Hanzo away with a powerful sweep of his arm. Hanzo quickly scrambled to his feet but remained in place as he carefully watched the other two, clearly worried for the woman.

“Please, there’s no need for violence,” an elderly passenger spoke as he rose from his chair. “The police are on their way. You don’t want to add a murder charge on top of robbery, son, do you?”

“Shut it, geezer!” the man yelled as he pointed his gun towards the passenger. “Y’all are gonna let us off this bus, all right? Don’t think I won’t shoot, ‘cause I will!”

Hanzo’s eyes darted around the bus, looking for any weakness he could exploit, and just where was Jesse? The man seemed to be the ringleader and was opposed to violence. Where was he, now that his gang seemed out of control?

“That’s a heavy burden, taking a human life,” the elderly man continued to reason, hands held defensively in the air. “It’s not too late, son, drop the weapon.”

“Please, you have our money, just let us go!” another passenger cried out.

The thug waved his gun in the direction of the voice, unsure where it came from. His other arm, however, remained tight around his hostage. “I ain’t no one’s ‘son’!”

With the weasley man distracted, the hostage decided to try her hand at escape. Before Hanzo or anyone could stop her, she managed to pull a small can of pepper spray out of her pocket, which she shot square in her captor’s face. With a loud cry of pain, the man released her, but in a panic, pulled the trigger on his gun. It was a blind shot, but the bullet still managed to hit the elderly man in the chest.

Hanzo’s eyes widened as he immediately jumped to the man’s aid, applying pressure to the wound. With their main obstacle distracted, the larger thug grabbed his temporarily disabled partner and dragged him to the front of the bus, where they demanded to be let off. Without Hanzo’s protection, the driver was too scared to deny their request, so the two men successfully made their escape.

“I’m sorry,” Hanzo muttered to the injured man. “I’ve failed.”

“No, no,” the man insisted, “you did just fine.”

“Don’t speak. Please, save your energy. Help is on the way.”

Hanzo felt his chest tighten in despair as he realized there was nothing he could do for this man. He fought his hardest to protect these people, yet still, he failed and was unable to do anything to ease this man’s suffering. He didn’t know how serious the injury was, or if the man would even survive, but Hanzo sat there with him, doing his best to try and keep him awake and comfortable until the medics could arrive.

Thankfully, it wasn’t much longer until they reached the next rest stop, where they remained until the authorities could catch up with them. Hanzo prayed silently as the elderly man was carried away on a stretcher, hoping he would recover soon.

After giving his statement to the police, Hanzo leaned against the wall of the small gas station and sighed as he tried to simply put his mind at ease. His eyes glanced over at the bus, empty of passengers. Even after the police had spoken to everyone and began to leave, nobody was eager to get back on the bus. They purchased water from the shop, or simply sat outside for some fresh air.

However, Hanzo noticed a subtle motion in the back of the bus. It seemed like the door to the bathroom opened up, and the silhouette of a man in a cowboy hat slowly crept towards a window. The window opened, and the shadow began to climb out the other side.

So that’s where he was hiding, Hanzo thought to himself as he briskly walked towards the bus. He arrived just in time to find Jesse straighten up after landing on the ground.

“You,” Hanzo hissed, glaring at the other man.

“Howdy,” the cowboy replied, then immediately turned heel and dashed away from the rest stop, towards the highway.

They were still in the middle of nowhere, so there wasn’t any traffic to dodge as Hanzo chased Jesse across the road. The cowboy purposely took a path that would keep the bus between them and the crowd, leaving him out of sight from the others as he fled.

Hanzo almost caught up, but Jesse disappeared into a corn field. The crop was tall, making it difficult to pursue. Hanzo followed as long as he could, but eventually lost track of the other man. He stood still, trying to listen for the crackle of stalks being trampled as the cowboy made his escape, but it was no use. Jesse was gone.

Distraught by another failure, Hanzo made his way back to the bus. He found an open seat all the way in back. The rest of the passengers loaded in, and the bus continued down the road, almost as if nothing had happened at all. Exhausted from the day’s events, Hanzo huddled into himself and easily drifted off to sleep.

#time to sit back and watch the tilt #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #mchanzo #overwatch #fanfic #my writing

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