#its more like she just shoots her shot with a blind faith that things will work out

[biblicalhorror]

Coming in hot with another maybe unpopular opinion

Listen. It MAKES SENSE that Kimberly can pull hot guys like no other. HEAR ME OUT.

Guys like Jackson and Nico know they're hot. They have girls giggling at them everywhere they go. But those guys also exist in real life, and you'd be shocked how rare it is for a girl to confidently approach them the way Kimberly does. Girls (especially straight girls) are socialized overall to take sexual rejection as a personal failing, but Kimberly doesn't seem to take that into account before she opens her mouth. She's so unapologetically herself all the time, even to her detriment. Like. That "big boy runs fast" scene was so cringeworthy because no one watching it would ever so proudly say something so deeply uncool to their crush. But Kimberly has this bravery when it comes to approaching men that I'm sure feels refreshing to someone who's used to being able to pull anyone they want, but not necessarily used to being approached. Kimberly's frankly insane confidence paired with her unwavering kindness and down-to-earth personality make her irresistible to insanely hot men, especially those like Jackson and Nico who are so bored and burnt out with other "hot" people.

Also, her body is insane. You cannot deny that. It's just typically covered up with a polo or knit sweater.

[spencers-renaissance]

let him be soft (and let him be mine) p.1

Summary: After Derek pulls another self-sacrificing stunt at the culmination of their most recent case, Spencer runs out of their apartment as he desperately grapples with how it makes him feel.

or; Derek's self-sacrificing tendencies meet Spencer's abandonment issues. It gets messy before it gets better.

Tags: hurt/comfort, crying, abandonment issues, injured!derek, hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!derek

TW: abadonment issues, allusions to grief/loss, some religious imagery (a catholic church and a priest have a small role in the plot)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.4k Total Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Emily's Edit 1 2 3

Colab Alert! Emily (@criminalmindsvibez) and I have worked together on a project based on this poem. Her edits and my fic go hand in hand, so go and check hers out! She will be posting part 2 and 3 of her edit tomorrow and Friday respectively, and I'll be posting part 2 of this fic on Friday, too!! It's been so fun to work together, so please go and reblog her beautiful edit <3

The Poem:

Please, let him be soft.

I know you made him       with gunmetal bones      and wolf’s teeth. I know you made him to be      a warrior      a soldier      a hero.

But even gunmetal can warp and even wolf’s teeth can dull and I do not want to see him break the way old and worn and overused things do.

I do not want to see him go up in flames      the way all heroes end up martyrs.

I know that you will tell me  that the world needs him. The world needs his heart      and his faith      and his courage      and his strength      and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his– The world needs anything he will give them.

Damn the world,      and damn you too. Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him,      damn anyone that ever took anything from him,            damn anyone that ever prayed to his name. You know that he will give them everything      until there is nothing left of him          but the imprint of dust               where his feet once trod. You know that he will bear the world like Atlas     until his shoulders collapse          and his knees buckle               and he is crushed by all he used to carry.

Dear God,  you have already made an Atlas. You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules.  You have already made so many heroes, and you can make another again.  You can have your pick of heroes.

So please, I beg you– he is all that I have,  and you have so many heroes and the world has so many more.  Let him be soft,  and let him be mine.

—Please, let him be happy ( j.p. )

The Fic:

Spencer offers Derek a weak smile as they sink into their seats on the jet. It’s all he can really manage, considering the emotional exhaustion the case had brought on, fatigue settling deep into his bones as he relaxes into the comfortable fabric of his chair. He keeps his eyes closed to avoid Derek’s anxious, imploring gaze for as long as possible, but he can’t help them opening on instinct as soon as the plane takes off the ground, and his stomach does its familiar vault at the increasing G forces.

“Baby?” Derek asks softly, as soon as he sees Spencer’s eyes flutter open. “What’s wrong?”

Spencer sighs, turning his head to face the evening sunset for a brief moment before looking back to his boyfriend. “I’m just tired, Der,” he lies, throwing in what he hopes is a reassuring smile to try and seal the deal.

It seems to work, some of the anxiety relaxing from his face — though, Spencer notes, the slightly pained expression remains — as he reaches across the table in between them to take Spencer’s hand. He complies, placing his hand in Derek’s and allowing himself to relish in the comfort of his warm, protective hold despite how he’s feeling.

“I’m sorry, Spence. We’ll get dinner from that Thai place and head straight to bed when we get home, yeah? You’ll feel better then.”

Spencer can’t help the flare of anger in his chest at that — so strong he has to shut his eyes tightly against it for a second. How can Derek not realise what’s wrong? How can he sit opposite him, bruised, cracked ribs and all, and not understand that everything is not at all ‘eat Thai food in bed’ okay?

He forces his eyes open again. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Derek squeezes his hand once before letting go and thankfully, finally, dropping the subject. The sunset is a pretty blend of pinks and oranges as they fly down from New Jersey towards home, but Spencer doesn’t focus on the aesthetics of the sky. Not when that awful, tiny voice keeps whispering in the back of his head: how many sunsets does Derek have left?

⭐️

It might have been a lie, but the tired excuse seems to work. Derek doesn’t try to make conversation with him on the drive to DC, instead settling for reassuring touches that Spencer finds himself pressing back into despite himself.

He dives straight for the shower once they get back to their apartment, vaguely hearing Derek on the phone placing their standard Thai order as he sheds his restrictive suit and steps into the shower, immediately relaxing as the hot water cascades down his back. All of a sudden, the weight of the case catches up to him and he lets himself cry. Afterall, his desperate, grief-filled sobs can’t be heard over the water and he can blame his sore, red eyes on the shampoo.

When his tears eventually dry up and he exits the warm bathroom into the air-conditioned apartment, Derek’s sat on the edge of their bed fiddling with his phone next to an outfit of Spencer’s favourite loungewear neatly laid out. He always does it and it always makes Spencer smile, but this time his heart just clenches painfully and he has to fight back the hot tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

“Hey, baby,” Derek says, voice concerned at the sight of his visibly upset boyfriend. His wince as he gets off the bed to come over to Spencer is the final straw, though, and he can’t help the violent, choked sob that forces its way past his lips, his body heaving with the myriad of emotions running rampant. “Spencer?”

He ignores him as he drops his towel and hurriedly pulls on the clothes Derek set out for him, tears spilling down his cheeks one after the other, indicating no sign of slowing down anytime soon.

“Spencer? Baby?” he pleads desperately as Spencer continues to ignore him. “I know you’re tired, but this isn’t like you. Why—”

“No!” he cries, turning to face him. “It’s not like me! Because even though I feel like this after every case I’m usually so good at holding it in! But I can’t do it anymore, Derek. I can’t keep feeling like this.”

“Baby, talk to me,” Derek begs. “We can work this out, we’ll figure this out together, but I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

All of a sudden, it’s too much. Standing there in their bedroom facing his injured, self-sacrificing, perfect boyfriend as emotion and fear choke the life out of him is killing him, and all he can do is grab his phone, hastily pull on a pair of shoes, and run out of the apartment.

If it wasn’t for his bruised ribs — Christ, if it wasn’t for Derek being shot not four hours earlier — Spencer never would have outrun him, but as it stands, he escapes the apartment building with only Derek’s pleading cries following him.

He runs through the streets of DC, half-blind from unshed tears, until he sees a bus coming down the road, and before he can overthink it, he’s boarding, paying, and taking a seat right at the back. The streets outside blur as the bus accelerates down the street and the tears he’d been holding back since he left the apartment, spill over, joining the countless tear tracks already decorating his cheeks.

Soon he’s not seeing the vibrant streets of the Adams Morgan district anymore, his brain replaying the shoot-out that ended the case instead. They’d finally cornered their suspect in a dilapidated barn in the middle of nowhere, and Spencer had honestly thought that their attempts to talk him down were working, when he’d suddenly pointed his gun straight at JJ. Derek had easily predicted his next move and wasted no time in pushing her out the way, diving straight into the bullet’s trajectory, shot in the middle of his vest.

Hotch had taken care of the unsub and Spencer had gone straight to Derek’s side, his heart in his mouth as fear overrode rationality with ease. He’d been fine: checked out by an ambulance on site and prescribed some moderate painkillers and a few days rest until his ribs healed up, but Spencer had struggled to see it so positively.

Anger flares up in his chest again at the memory of Derek’s blatant disregard for his own well-being. JJ’s a trained and experienced agent: she could have shot the unsub before he even took the shot if Derek hadn’t pushed her aside, and even if she hadn’t, why was it better for Derek to take the bullet than JJ?

As much as he tries not to take it personally, part of him can’t really help but feel hurt. What if the bullet had missed the vest? What if Derek was really shot? He could have so easily died — in an alternate universe, Spencer is mourning the tragic loss of his boyfriend right now. Does he really not care that all this heroic self-sacrifice could leave Spencer a grieving widow one day?

He feels selfish. The world needs Derek: it needs his heart and his courage and his fierce sense of justice, it needs him to fight for the underdog, it needs him to stop at nothing to apprehend the bad guy, it needs anything he can give them.

But in this moment, Spencer doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care about what the world needs. He cares about what Dr Spencer Reid, book nerd and genius prodigy of Nevada needs, and that’s his boyfriend, alive, next to him.

The bus passes a church and Spencer immediately presses the button, getting off at the next stop and retracing the road until he’s standing in front of the beautiful architecture of a Catholic Church. Peace and quiet is exactly what he needs right now, so he takes a deep breath and walks through the heavy wooden doors into the building.

The smell Spencer associates with the churches he’d visit in his childhood when William would dress them up and parade them around a church as the perfect little family for as long as Diana’s meds lasted hits him as soon as he crosses the threshold, and something about it feels comforting. He walks through the small foyer and into the main congregation hall, thankful that no service is taking place. There’s a woman in a pew at the front with her head bowed, but otherwise it’s completely empty, and it emboldens him enough to slip into the back row.

He lets himself zone out, taking in the stained glass windows and the elaborate arcades as well as the ornate statues and decorations around the nave as his mind finally drifts from the torture of his thoughts.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice asks, snapping him out of his trance. He looks over to see a priest standing just to his right, a kind look on his face.

“Uh— yes,” Spencer replies, a little flustered. “Very. An old friend of mine did a PhD in the history of church architecture years ago, but even his high praise doesn’t do it justice in person.”

“Not a regular church-goer, I take it?” the priest asks, smiling warmly.

“Not sure the church would be happy to have me,” he says drily, “on the account that I live with my boyfriend.”

The priest’s face saddens at that. “Would you mind if I sat?”

“As long as you don’t try and convert me.”

He laughs at that, taking a seat next to Spencer. “That’s not my job anyway,” he reassures him. “God takes care of that side of things.”

Spencer nods once, before looking down at his fidgeting fingers.

“What’s led a non-Christian to a Catholic Church on a random Tuesday evening, then?” the priest asks warmly.

“Oh… I’m not sure you’d want to hear about it,” Spencer says awkwardly, blushing a bit at the thought of discussing his relationship troubles with a priest.

“Try me.”

Spencer takes a deep breath. After all, he desperately wants to talk about this with someone, and who better than a completely impartial person whose opinion doesn’t matter anyway?

“I work for the FBI,” he starts, “I have done for nearly a decade now. It’s where I met my boyfriend, actually; we work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I love the job, it’s given me pretty much everything I have, really, but… but I don’t know how much longer I can do it.” He takes a shaky breath in to try and abate the tears again, but when the priest lays a warm hand over his own, he can’t hold them back anymore.

“Derek— Derek is so strong. He’s fierce and he’s powerful and he’s a hero, and I used to be so proud of him for that, I still am, but now… all it does is scare me. Today he took a bullet for another team member, he pushed her out of the way and it landed in his own vest. He’s fine, but this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. He’s run into burning buildings, driven bombs across cities to stop them from blowing up in a populated area, thrown himself into the line of fire to save others countless times, but one day… he won’t be so lucky.

“One day, it’s going to catch up to him, and he’s going to be killed by his own calling. He’s so selfless that he’s truly going to give everything to the job until it kills him… and where does that leave me?” He looks up and meets the priest’s kind, empathetic gaze for the first time, comforted by the reassurance he finds there.

“I never really had a family. My father walked out when I was ten and left me with my sick and confused mother, knowing that she couldn’t take care of me, knowing that he was leaving his child to take care of his mother for the next eight years. When I found the BAU, I found a family, and I found Derek. I love my whole team, but when it comes down to it, he’s all I really have left.

“If he stays in this job, I’m going to end up alone. There will never be another person for me, not after Derek. When people sit in this very building and pray for justice,” Spencer says tearily, “God answers that prayer with Derek Morgan. And those prayers, those pleas for mercy are going to take him away from me one day.”

The priest sits quietly for a moment, thinking, maybe praying, as he bows his head. “Child, God makes heroes for a reason. I know he’s so proud of Derek, that he cherishes all the lives he’s saved, but I also know that God cherishes Derek’s life, and yours, too. Derek sounds like the kind of person who loves with his whole heart, and I suspect that he loves you deeply. The Bible teaches us the importance of kind and honest communication, as well as the value in understanding the people you love, and I think you know that your only shot at a happy ending here is to tell Derek all that you’ve told me.”

Spencer’s always rejected the idea of telling Derek how much it breaks his heart to see him running at danger head on because he can’t think of any possible resolution they could come to — it’s not like he can simply turn off his self-sacrificing tendencies — but he doesn’t really see any other way out now.

He looks up at the priest. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m not sure I have any other choice.”

“I’ll leave you to your peace and quiet,” he says as he gets up to leave, “but please never think that God doesn’t want to know you because of your loving relationship with Derek. He loves you both so much.”

Spencer smiles, feeling a little bit lighter after getting everything off his chest. “Thank you.”

As he watches the priest walk out of the nave and into what Spencer suspects is the Sanctuary, he hears something that simultaneously warms his heart and twists his stomach in anxiety.

Derek, calling his name.

I hope you enjoyed part one of this fic - please go and check out Emily's edit here!

PART TWO

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @doctorenby @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoopc@marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

[brooklyn-times]

Three shots

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Three shots and Bucky felt his world go off the axis.

Warnings: Blood, kisses and Bucky Barnes.

A/N: Not exactly back from dead, but damn, did i feel guilty for not posting :/ Hope you enjoy this, Happy Reading!!

Masterlist

It was an easy mission.

One which even the trainees could have managed.

Theoretically.

But bless Natasha's intuition, she had insisted on not taking this lightly, saying she had a gut feeling that something was not right about the mission. She had volunteered to go herself, but you and Bucky had decided to go together.

Ever since that first mission together when you had newly joined the Avengers, the two of your missions' success rate had been a whooping one hundred percent. It was as though fate was in play, making the two of you very keenly aware of each other and your surroundings, always at your best when with each other.

Looks spoke when words couldn't and the mind connected when the signal couldn't.

So the two of you had left together.

HYDRA's safe house was located in the middle of a desert and all you both had to do was kill all of their agents except for one who had to be taken in for questioning to get information about other secret bases.

Easy enough.

"I'm gonna go back to the tower and murder Nat," you said looking around with pursed lips at the dead agents staining the ground red.

Meanwhile, the one who had been captured glared at you with a murderous look in his eyes, bleeding from his gagged mouth and handcuffed limbs.

Bucky snorted, "For interrupting your binge-watching for nothing?"

"Yes," you hissed and glared.

Until your eyes fell on a lever hidden behind the books on the bookshelf.

Frowning, you walked towards it. In the building blueprint you had received of this base, there had been no mention of a secret room.

Bucky followed you, his eyes now void of the humor and satisfaction, replaced by caution and hardness. Secret rooms in his experience were never good.

You both pushed the bookshelf aside and stared at the lever. Next to it was a metal door that the bookshelf had managed to cover pretty well.

"Leap of faith. Hope nothing blows up," you prayed and took a deep breath before slowly exhaling, trying to calm yourself. You had a feeling that this was what Nat was talking about.

You pulled down the lever.

Bucky could barely understand what had happened those next few seconds. The only thing he could register was the sound of three gunshots and the feeling of being thrown against a wall so hard that he blacked out for those crucial few seconds.

Till the last day of his life, he would never forgive himself for that.

When his vision returned and he tried to make out what was happening despite the shooting pain in his head, he saw you.

Stark terror gripped him when he saw you standing frozen, with your mouth open in a silent gasp, bloodied hands clutched against your stomach.

He could no longer breathe.

"любимая?" Bucky could feel his voice shake as he rushed towards you, holding you before you could fall and hit the ground.

"No, no, no. What the fuck did you do?" He shouted. His hands shook, looking for something to keep you from bleeding out. Never had blood made him nauseous until that moment.

"Bu... Buck.." Your broken whispers chilled his heart.

"Don't talk, don't talk dammit! Just stay awake okay? Look at me. Look into my eyes. Promise me you'll stay awake. I'll get us out of here. I swear."

He could feel you nod against him.

Bucky could hear the desperation in his voice as he took your face between his palms. You groaned and whimpered, your face contouring in pain.

Bucky realized his cheeks were damp.

Without wasting any more time, he slowly carried you and stood up, trying not to make any quick moments that would hurt you. Inside the building, there was no chance of getting a signal to contact the teammates. They had to step outside.

As he hurried through the length of the corridors which felt like a never-ending maze, he was aware of each second passing and each drop of blood you were losing.

After what felt like an eternity, the two of you finally reached outside and Bucky slowly laid you on the ground.

He let out a frustrated shout when the damn phone couldn't catch a signal strong enough to make a call. Meanwhile, he was aware of all the whimpers and groans of pain you let out. While he hated you suffering in pain, he was relieved that you were still alive.

Finally, finally, he was able to make a call. 

He couldn't hear himself speak, couldn't understand himself. So he was only grateful that fifteen minutes later, your team had found you both. You with your eyes, barely open, trying to keep your promise, and Bucky with damp cheeks and shaking form.

It wasn't until after you were taken inside the operation theatre did Bucky realize that you had been standing at the same spot where he had been when they had pulled down the lever.

Bucky sat frozen on the chair outside the OT, staring at the white flooring, clean and without blood unlike inside the HYDRA base.

"What was inside that room that was so heavily guarded?" Bucky could hear the hollowness in his voice when he spoke.

Those eyes filled with mischief were dancing in front of him, dark curls escaping from the hastily tied hair, lips curled into a smile which screamed trouble.

He still could not breathe.

"Maximoff and Vision have gone to get it. They should be back soon," Tony said, his voice tight and hoarse. He had almost blasted the entire building when he had seen you drenched in blood. It had taken Steve and Banner to haul him back and convince him that it was more important to get you immediate medical attention.

Bucky looked at the blood staining his flesh hand, now dried up. Once again, he could feel the nausea rise and his head hurt, blood continuously roaring in his ears, completely unaware of the world around him.

He almost missed the doctor who stepped out with a nurse, instructing her about something which Bucky couldn't make out. His eyes were dazed when he tried looking for you inside the room you had disappeared into hours ago, leaving him feeling like the world was shifted off its axis.

His world had.

It wasn't until Steve had snapped him out of it did Bucky realize that everybody had a relieved look in their eyes. He could barely make out the words being spoken but he understood enough.

You were okay. Unconscious and slightly in pain, but okay.

He could finally breathe again.

It was two days of slipping in and out of consciousness.

Each time you could make out people standing around you and as if deeming them unworthy of your attention, you'd slip out of consciousness.

But this time, you could feel everything and you felt like cursing the universe.

The pain from the bullet wounds spread across your entire abdomen region that even breathing took some effort. You knew that if it weren't for your mutant blood you'd have been enjoying with angels or demons, either of the two.

The entire team except for the one had assembled around you, all of them collectively looking relieved.

"This is not my funeral, you know?" You tried joking. You winced when your throat and stomach, both hurt.

Tony narrowed his eyes on you. "You are officially banned from missions indefinitely. I don't care if I have to lock you up in your room permanently but you won't be going anywhere."

You rolled your eyes but you felt the knot in your throat, knowing how much these people cared for you. How you had finally found that family you had only dreamed of.

But still, he wasn't here yet.

"Sure. We'll see how that works out."

In a rare display of affection, Tony softly tucked your curls behind your ears and patted your cheek. You almost wept at the feeling.

Before anybody could say or ask anything, you interrupted them.

"Where's Bucky?"

By the look on their faces, you knew.

He didn't want to come.

Two weeks after being out of that sickly room, you were in the gym, punching the bag repeatedly, getting rid of that frustration which had built up. The sudden onslaught of tears blinded your vision.

Fucking Bucky had been avoiding you. You knew it. You could feel it when he had taken every possible mission so that there was no way the two of you could meet.

You hated that you couldn't talk to him and explain it to that fucking dumbass that it wasn't his fucking fault. You knew him like the back of your hand and knew that he blamed himself.

The sound of a sudden, quiet gasp caught your attention. You whirled around so quickly your neck hurt. But none of it mattered because standing in front of you was the said dumbass.

Before he could disappear back to where ever he planned, you moved across the room in a flash and stood in front of him, your eyes narrowed, and panting.

For a minute, or probably just a few seconds, you simply looked at him. His eyes although red, as though he hasn't slept in a while, held no emotions, and had shadows underneath them, much like the first time you had ever met him. His cheeks were hollow, face pale.

You physically felt your anger leave you.

"Bucky." You took a step forward, your hand cupping his cheek, thumb softly tracing his cheeks. You could feel yourself vibrate with emotions when you gulped, letting out a breath.

Suddenly, Bucky's metal arm gripped the wrist of the hand touching him and he pulled it down.

"Don't." His voice was tight, emotions barely reigned in.

"Don't what? Ignore you? Talk to you? Don't what, Bucky? " Your voice grew louder with each word. You gasped in air, anger once again returning as swiftly as it had left.

You wanted to hit him, punch him, shoot him for leaving you alone. You wanted to shout at him. Hate him.

But you couldn't.

Instead, a wayward tear escaped, and before you could stop it, tears started flowing for the first time since the incident.

It felt like your entire body was sobbing, each breath a gasp. Still, you made no sound and covered your face with your hands, trying to stop it.

But couldn't stop those bloody tears.

"Fuck!" You heard Bucky swore. Seconds later, he pulled you into his arms, your hand awkwardly crushes between your face and his wide chest.

Silent cries grew stronger when he rested his forehead on top of your head, rubbing your back with one hand while the other held you tight against him.

"любимая, don't cry. Please don't cry. I feel so helpless when you do," Bucky whispered into your hair, tracing patterns on your back.

Immediately, you pushed him away and glared at him.

"How could you leave me like that? How do you think I felt when I woke up with my muscles aching, things barely making any sense, only to realize that you had decided to disappear! Everybody was there, standing, talking to me. Except for you."

A dark look flashed across his face, eyes burning when he looked at you. His voice was dangerously soft when he spoke.

"Then how do you think I felt when I realized that you had taken the bullets meant for me, hmm? When I saw you drenched in blood, in danger because of me. I was living my worst nightmare for those twelve odd hours and I felt sick! What were you thinking before doing what you did?!"

"I wasn't," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"I wasn't thinking. It was an instinct. I just reacted. And even if I were to think, I wouldn't change it, I would take those bullets all over again if it meant sa-"

Bucky had a crazed look in his eyes, breathing harshly, as he pushed you against the wall, his hard chest, flushed against your breast. Your hands fisted when you felt the heat between your legs.

Goddammit, this was not a good time.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"I would take those bullets all over again if it meant saving you," you repeated before he could stop you. 

You continued.

"What I don't understand is how you disappearing would help. If you haven't noticed we are the fucking Avengers, Bucky. Each mission we leave we don't know if we will return or not. We all will die one day. It's what we do. If I had to die saving you, I'd at least die peacefully knowing that I died saving the person whom I'm loved the most."

You froze the moment those words left your lips. Both your eyes widened and you saw him gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing. His hands which were resting on your hips gripped them hard enough to leave bruises. His thumb made soft circles on your bare skin and each touch burnt, the feeling leaving her insides melting.

His eyes burned into yours, raw emotions no longer hidden behind the invisible wall. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against yours, faces so close that your breaths mingled with each other.

You gasped when your noses touched. His lips were so close to yours that it was torture, having him a hair breath away and unable to kiss.

But, who said you couldn't?

Before you could take a moment and reconsider that probably stupid decision, you leaned forward and kissed him.

Fireworks exploded behind your eyes, in your stomach, everywhere.

You moaned into his mouth, closing your eyes and fisting the fabric of his shirt. Within seconds, he responded and before you knew it, he was dominating the kiss you had started.

With one arm around your waist pulling you impossibly closer, his other arm went behind your neck, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss. Thank god for his arms holding you; you would have otherwise collapsed.

"Don't ever disappear on me again, Bucky, please," you muttered against his lips.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, lips moving to the side of your neck, leaving soft, open mouth kisses which drove you crazy with need,

You whimpered when his hesitant tongue traced your lips. 

"I just felt so guilty. My worst nightmare turned into a reality." His voice broke towards the end.

"I know, I know it Bucky. But wouldn't you have done the same for me?"

He groaned before he kissed you once again with new energy, tongue tracing your lips, making you whimper.

Encouraged by the sound, he did more forcefully until you parted your lips.

You almost passed out at the feeling, knees shaking uncontrollably.

As each second passed, you felt light-headed, panting as you wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your toes to reach his height.

The sound you received when you tugged on his hair was heavenly. You played with the hair at the end of his neck, hair soft and slightly curled. 

Time no longer made any sense and then finally, he pulled away panting staring at your flushed face and parted lips, each breath causing a rise and fall of your breast.

The hardness which rested against your stomach twitched.

It felt like an entire forest and not just butterflies were dancing inside your stomach. You felt faint with the way he looked at you. He might not say it right now, but you knew he felt the exact same way you did.

Somewhere deep down, you probably already knew it, but the relief of it being confirmed pleased you immensely and made you grateful for everything in life.

"Does that mean you'll never leave if you can help it?" Your voice was hoarse, filled with emotion.

"I don't know," a faint smile played on his lips and you grinned, knowing that things will be okay. "I think I might need more convincing."

"Then convince, I will," you muttered before leaning in for another kiss.

AND THAT’S WRAP.

TAGLIST: @ buckybarnesdeservestheuniverse 

[tanyawritesstories]

Thawed | The Mandalorian x Reader pt. 6

There's only one more chapter after this 😱 rescue is inbound! I hope y'all are enjoying the series so far, enjoy the latest chapter! 😊

Series Masterlist

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: angst, canon violence, torture, fluff, canon divergence, I fixed the ending 😉, plot twist???

•••

Din tapped his foot anxiously on the floor of Slave I. They had just landed on a planet he couldn’t remember the name of, it was a prison planet basically and he was here to pick up someone he had hoped he would never see again. Din had stashed the Crest on Navarro, with Karga helping him and promising to find the tracker hidden inside it. He’d also picked up Cara after learning of her new status within the New Republic. Din had only grabbed his jetpack and the Beskar spear Ahsoka had given him from the Crest before joining Fett and Shand aboard their ship.

Grogu grabbed Din’s leg and he looked down at his little one. Grogu looked sad and he held one of Y/N’s hand sewn toys that she made for Mandi that were left on the Crest. He had apparently snatched it while Din was busy grabbing other things. “I know, buddy. I miss her too,” he lamented. Din himself had taken something of hers: her shawl. He had taken and folded it thinly and tied it just above his vambrace on his left arm. It was the only piece of her he had left.

“She’s got him,” he heard Fett say just before he walked down the ramp. Din didn’t want to do this, he wished there was an easier way. But there wasn’t, this was all he had. He sighed and stood, letting Grogu have his seat as he walked down the ramp, encountering the man he wished he would never see again.

~~~~

“We need coordinates for Moff Gideon’s light cruiser.” Din informed. Mayfeld scoffed, “Moff Gideon, forget it.” As an ex-Imperial, Din was sure Mayfeld knew how dangerous Gideon was. Grogu wandered out from behind Din’s chair and Mayfeld noticed him. “I see you still got your little friend, so why do you need me?” Din picked Grogu up and held him in his lap, he was having a hard time keeping his composure around his guy. He was glad when Cara answered for him.

“They have his girl,” she said, “and his baby.” Din didn’t correct her this time. “You’re telling me this guy found a woman,” Mayfeld almost sounded mocking. Cara and Fennec both glared at him. “What’s in it for me?” Din rolled his eyes, letting Cara do the law talking. He paid attention to what Mayfeld was saying. Internal Imperial terminal. Morak. Secret mining operation. The words passed through his head and he picked out the important details. He couldn’t stop worrying. Thinking.

What was happening on board that cruiser? Was Y/N safe? What about Mandi? Were they together? Or had Mandi been taken away and experiments forced upon her like they had done with Grogu? Din didn’t want to think about that as Slave I entered into space, heading for Morak.

~~~~

Y/N laid on the cold, hard bench in her cell. Her mind constantly switching between worrying about her baby and worrying about Mando. She hoped he was safe, she hoped he had taken Grogu and ran as far away as he could. She had a feeling that he would come for her but she almost wished he wouldn’t. She had done this to protect him.

The sound of the cell door opening made her sit up. Two stormtroopers entered before Moff Gideon did. He looked down at her with his usual piercing stare. “A Mandalorian traveling with a woman and child, you know how that looks I presume,” he said. She was confused. “Now, I know he picked you up on Nexlar, our contacts told me about how he defended you. Judging by the way you handed yourself over, I’d say there’s more to you two than meets the eye.”

Y/N clenched her jaw and looked at the floor. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. “My guess is he’ll come to rescue you,” he said tauntingly. “So you are now our bait.” He turned and exited the room, nodding to the troopers on his way out. The door closed and the troopers produced shock batons from their belts. “Let’s get to work,” one said. Y/N closed her eyes and awaited the physical pain that would come. Bait doesn’t have to be alive for it to work, she thought.

~~~~

“What do we do with the kid?” Everyone looked to Grogu who stood at the foot of the ramp. Din picked him up and set him on a seat. “He’ll be fine in here,” he said. “My ship isn’t child proofed,” Fett said matter of factly. “Neither is mine, he’ll be ok. Let’s go,” Din urged. They scouted out the route and the base, formulating a plan on how to get inside. There was only one problem. they didn’t have anyone innocent enough to get in without tripping the alarm.

Eventually Din was the only one who could do it. He would do it for her, for Y/N and Mandi. The last image he had of her in his mind was the fearful but determined look on her face. He’d seen that face before, on a different woman. His mother. With the ‘I love you’ and everything. He hated that the two instances were so alike. Only this time he had the opportunity to save Y/N and he wouldn’t stop trying until he succeeded.

He didn’t like being out of his armor, in fact he hated it. But it was what he had to do. Mayfeld’s endless chatter aboard the transport went in one ear and out the other. The pirates attacked and all Din could think as he found them off was: I wish I had my armor, and please let me make it through alive. He got more and more anxious as they arrived, were welcomed into the base, and within reach of the terminal. Mayfeld refused to go in when he saw someone he recognized. Din wished he could force the other man in there but there was nothing he could do. Except...do it himself.

The bounty hunter part of his brain told him it wasn’t worth it, the Mandalorian part screamed at him not to. Din pushed those thoughts away. He would have to be vulnerable here, something he hated most. He walked to the terminal, data stick in hand. He was scared. A calming thought found its way into his mind as if someone had planted it there on purpose.

Y/N had gone through these challenges too. She had been willing to put blind faith in a man she didn’t know. She trusted him to protect her on a dangerous planet, and trusted him when she was at her most vulnerable: delivering her baby. Din knew this was what he needed to do. Before his mind could convince him otherwise, he raised both hands to the helmet and lifted it off his head…

~~~~

Y/n coughed, more blood staining the floor. The troopers had been brutal and merciless. They knew she chose not to talk and made it their goal to get her to scream. By the time she had, her nose was broken, she’d been kicked in the stomach so many times she wouldn’t be surprised if a rib or two was broken. Those were the injuries she couldn’t see. When looking in the reflective walls she saw that she had a black eye and a split lip.

She spit blood onto the floor and paced around the room, her anger boiling to the surface. She was starting to think she should’ve stayed within the safe confines of the New Republic, but she left on good terms and went her own way. They had forced her to scream before, now she wanted to scream on her own. She hadn’t used her voice in months, save for those few words to Mando and Grogu. The more she walked the more rage built up in her.

This wasn’t who she was. She wasn’t some hopeless girl with no voice. She was a woman and a mother, she had to fend for herself now. And that meant making noise. She turned and punched the wall so hard she heard cracking. Y/N fell to her knees and screamed. Loud.

She had a powerful voice and they would all hear it.

~~~~

Mayfeld was getting that look in his eyes that Din knew far too well. He was seconds away from snapping. Din looked at the man and shook his head just enough that he would see it. Mayfeld ignored him. The Imperial officer continued to talk, his words getting more and more evil. This wouldn’t end well.

It didn’t.

Mayfeld finally snapped and drew his blaster, shooting the man in the chest from point blank range. Din sent Mayfeld a shocked look then they both remembered they were in a public room. They looked around and saw all the others in the room staring at them in shock. The duo acted first and shot down everyone. Time to run. Mayfeld gave Din the helmet back and they escaped through a window. Cara and Fennec shot down everyone that followed them while they got to the roof. They could hear the ship and ran, shooting behind them as they went.

Slave I leveled out and they both jumped the gap onto the ramp. Din helped Mayfeld up and into the ship at which point he asked for the cycler rifle behind Din. He handed him the weapon and watched as he aimed at the facility. Din remembered what Mayfeld’s area of expertise had been while he was with the Imperials. Sharpshooter. The shot he took hit a container of Rhydonium, blowing up the entire transport and the one next to it, then the whole facility went up in fire and smoke.

Din was thankful to be back in his armor as he and Mayfeld waited for Cara and Fennec to get back to the ship. “Ya’know I, I’ve been in a similar situation as you are right now,” Mayfeld said. Din turned his head to look at him. Mayfeld had been using a somber tone of voice while talking to him in the transport, now he was almost sounding mournful. “I had a woman once upon a time,” Mayfeld said, looking at the ground. “Ava, loved her with everything I had. She was a sharpshooter, like me,” he smiled sadly, “better than me..” Din felt bad for him. “What happened?” The other man sighed and looked into the forest. “She was on the second Death Star when it blew up,” he said. “If there’s any advice I can give ya, when you get your woman back don’t ever let her go and love her like there’s no tomorrow.”

Din nodded. “I will.” Cara and Fennec returned and Mayfeld was fully prepared to go back to the scrapyards. Cara was impressed by his shooting and the fact that he’d basically switched sides, she let him go. “What now?” She asked Din. “Now, we rescue them.”

~~~~

Fett was quite the pilot as Din was learning. He’d chased down the Imperial ship through hyperspace and hit them dead on with an ion pulse to shut down their engines. Din and Cara boarded the shuttle, just who he was looking for. Dr. Pershing. Din shrugged off the pilot’s questions directing one at the doctor. “Are they alive?” The skittish man stuttered. “They only mentioned that there was another child, that’s all I know,” he said before one pilot aimed a blaster at his head. The pilot antagonized Cara, Din didn’t know why, what was he thinking he could get out of it? He got what he was asking for when Cara shot him dead.

They then traveled to another planet, Din knew that the small group they had couldn’t take on Gideon alone. He knew just the people to go to, they owed him a favor. He and Fett entered the cantina, their eyes scouring the room and finding their targets. It was easy to convince Bo-Katan, promising her the cruiser and anything else she wanted as long as Din could get Y/N and Mandi free and safe. They briefed aboard Slave I, Dr. Pershing threw in his knowledge which Din was secretly grateful for.

“Where is the child being held?” He asked. The man glanced at Grogu who was hiding behind a chair, he pressed another button and the holo zoomed in on a lower portion of the ship. “Here, in the brig under armed guard. Most likely they’re performing the tests there as well.” “What tests?” Din questioned. “Just blood samples for now, they wouldn’t proceed with anything else. That’s why they called for me,” the doctor answered. “And the woman?” The doctor looked confused. “They never told me about a woman, only a new child with similar abilities…”

Din sighed. He would have to find Y/N on his own and he knew someone who could help him with that, his helmet turned to look at Grogu. He had seen what Grogu and Mandi could accomplish together, their powers were stronger that way. Once he got both of them together, they would help him find Y/N. He didn’t like the idea of taking the kid into the Nexu den, but it was the only way he’d find her. Bo-Katan described her plan and they were all set. It was now or never.

They exited hyperspace and were thrown into the action. Fett was on their tail, and he was certainly making it convincing. Bo-Katan sent her distress call through. The enemy launched TIE fighters in response, which had to dodge the craft. Bo-Katan and Koska just barely evaded the fighters as they went after Fett, who was unconcerned by them. They were coming in hot. It was going to be a rough and fast landing, not to mention sketchy. “Hang on!” Fennec shouted. The shuttle bounced off the walls and skidded along the floor until it stopped.

Din tucked Grogu into the bag he usually carried him in. Din had tied it onto his belt in such a way that he could easily detach it, and had fashioned a flap to cover the top so no one could see what was inside. Grogu would be hidden, he might get jostled a bit but he would be ok. “You gotta be quiet now, buddy,” he said as he closed the flap over the top of the bag.

The girls exited the shuttle first charging and blasting their way through the hangar. Once he heard the blaster fire cease, Din exited the shuttle, making sure he was clear and heading to the brig. He crept through the hallways, always making sure they were empty before advancing. He had to duck and hide a couple times to avoid detection. But he continued, having memorized his way.

He got to the doors behind which the Dark Troopers were stored, he held the data stick in hand, but when the door came into view it had already opened. “No, no!” He yelled, running for the control panel. He got the stick in the controls and the door started closing. It was nearly all the way shut when two powerful robotic hands shoved it open, one of the droids got through and sent Din into the opposite wall. His spear got knocked from his shoulder and the bag that Grogu was in detached from his belt, both sliding across the floor in different directions.

Din shot at the droid but, as predicted, the bullets only bounced off. The machine lifted him off the ground by his neck and began throwing heavy punches to his head. Din knew his helmet would hold up, the wall would break before the Beskar would. Clearly they hadn’t been programmed for combat against Mandalorians. He saw the remaining droids attempting to break the glass and get free, he hoped it would hold until he could destroy this one. Grogu was out in the open somewhere off to his right.

Din tried his flamethrower but it was no use, fire resistant, of course. He was thrown near the door by the droid and had almost reached for the airlock switch before the droid reached him and flung him in the other direction, near his spear. He tried his whistling birds this time, they did more than the flamethrower did at least. Slowing the droid down a little as it shot at him. Before it could reach him, he spun onto his knees, snatched the spear and plunged it into the droid's neck area. Sparks flew from it and with all his strength, Din ripped the spear back towards him, severing the droid’s head from its body and finally destroying it. Din scrambled for the airlock when he heard the whoosh of the outer doors opening, he got to the door, seeing all the droids sucked out into space.

Confused, he looked down at the controls to see Grogu standing at the foot of them, his little hand stretched up towards the airlock switch. Din sighed in relief, picking the child up. “Thanks, buddy,” he said. He set the spear back onto his shoulder and picked up the bag from the floor. He reattached it to his belt and placed Grogu back inside. “Let’s go find mom, huh?” He said. Grogu cooed and Din closed the flap and continued on.

Din let his anger fuel him as he attacked the two stormtroopers guarding the cell. Stabbing one in the stomach and strangling the other before harshly breaking his neck. He shoved the data stick into the control panel and the cell door opened. Revealing Moff Gideon standing over Mandi holding a glowing sword. It was similar to Ahsoka’s blades, but black and shimmering and it made a different noise. Din immediately drew his blaster and Gideon gave him an annoyed look. “Drop the blaster.” He said. Din slowly set his blaster on the ground and kicked it over to the man as per his request.

“Give her to me.” Din hissed. "She's fine where she is," Gideon replied. He waved the light sword over Mandi's head and the little girl reached up for it. Din's heart skipped a beat, thankfully it was just out of her reach. Gideon began talking about the sword he held but Din could care less. He heard something about how it had belonged to Bo-Katan and that it held great power, his mind skipped over the part about ruling over Mandalore.

"You keep it, I just want her," Din said. "Ah, I'm guessing you want her mother as well," Gideon replied, his voice cold. "Where is she?" Din growled. "She served her purpose, and so has this one," the agent spoke. "I only wanted to study her blood. She has incredible abilities much like the child in your bag.” Din stood, unmoving. “Alas, I have all I need from her. Take her, but you will leave my ship immediately and we will go our separate ways.” Din took a steadying breath and walked to Mandi as Gideon turned off the sword and walked towards the door. Din was almost to Mandi when the sword clashed with his jetpack.

Din detached Grogu’s bag and he thumped on the floor. Din blocked Gideon’s attacks with his vambraces , the other man using his strikes to drive Din out of the cell and into the hallway. Din dodged until they stood facing each other, he drew the spear off his back and readied himself.

Meanwhile, Grogu had sensed Mandi’s presence and crawled out of his bag. Mandi had started crying because of the loud clanging and clashing. She was laying on the bench above him where he couldn’t reach her. So he held out his little hands and concentrated, bringing her down to him.

Din was mostly on the defensive, managing a few offensive strikes that Gideon easily blocked. Din had practiced with the spear since he got it, it was clear Gideon only had a general idea of how to use the sword he possessed. Din’s spear clashed with the light weapon. He stabbed but Gideon grabbed the spear, Din pushed, driving him back. He hit the wall. One jerk of the spear and the sword flew out of his hands, deactivating when it hit the ground. Gideon slumped to the ground and Din pointed the spear at his throat.

“You’re sparing my life, well this should be interesting,” he said. Din swung the spear, striking Gideon across the face hard enough to ensure he would stay unconscious for a while. Din snatched the laser sword off the ground and stuck it into his belt, setting the spear onto his back. He heard Mandi crying and rushed into the cell. Grogu had gotten her down from the bench somehow and was standing beside her. Din kneeled next to the kids and brought Mandi into his arms.

“Shh, it’s ok, sweetheart. It’s alright, daddy’s here,” he comforted. He held her until she stopped crying, scooping Grogu into his arms too, holding them both close. He loved them both so much. “You both need to help me find Y/N now, ok?” Both children looked up at him with curious and willing eyes. Din managed to fit both of them into the bag. He locked Gideon’s hands in binders and dragged him into the cell, making sure to lock it. He then relied on the kids to guide him.

He figured she was probably somewhere on this level. Grogu took Mandi’s hand and acted as a translator for her powers. Mandi would whine and Grogu would coo back, as if they were talking, then Grogu would look up at Din and point in a certain direction. The kids led him down the hallway and took a few turns. They stopped him in front of another cell where both children whined. She was in here. He used the data stick to open the door. It opened to reveal a sight that made his blood run cold.

Y/N was laying in a heap on the floor. One of her eyes was purple and nearly swollen shut, there was blood running out of her nose which was bent at a weird angle; most likely broken. Her bottom lip was split and the knuckles on both her hands were bleeding. They had really done a number on her. Din knelt at her side, smoothing his hand over her cheek. “Y/N, wake up,” he shook her gently, “you need to wake up.” He took the kids out of their bag and set them next to her. Grogu waddled over and touched her face. He reached out to Mandi with his other hand and Din moved her closer so Grogu could grab her hand.

The kids both closed their eyes. Din wasn’t sure what they were doing but he removed a glove and touched his skin to her’s. It was like something had told him to, like he knew he could help this way. After a few seconds, Din suddenly felt exhausted as if something had drained his energy. He took shallow breaths, he felt like he’d just run for miles without stopping. He looked at the kids, they looked like they were straining so hard. Then Din began to see the change.

Y/N’s swollen eye slowly went back to normal, her nose moved back into place and the bleeding stopped, and her lip seemed to heal from the inside out. The kids strained harder. She suddenly woke up with a gasp and the kids stopped, Grogu falling down exhausted. Din helped Y/N sit up. “It’s me, it’s me. I’m here,” he said. Tears brimmed in Y/N’s eyes and she wrapped him in a tight hug. He wasn’t uncomfortable this time and hugged her back. “I’m so sorry I let this happen to you,” he said. She pulled away to sign to him.

It’s ok, I chose this. I knew what I was doing to keep you and Grogu safe.

“You shouldn’t have had to,” he told her. She shrugged and managed a smile. She noticed the kids and swooped them both up into her arms, kissing them both on the forehead.

Thank you for getting her and keeping her safe.

Din nodded. “Can you walk? We need to get Gideon and bring him up to the bridge to meet the others.” She nodded and Din offered to put the kids into his bag, which she let him do. They walked back to the other cell and opened it, he was still in there and still knocked out. Rage flared in Y/N’s eyes and she strode over to his body, grabbing his collar and punching him hard in the face. He woke up almost instantly from the impact. “I see you found her,” he addressed Din. “Get up,” Din snapped. Y/N helped Din haul the man to his feet. Din took the sword from his belt and activated it, pointing it at his back. “Move.”

~~~~

Everyone seemed relieved to see Din and Y/N walk in with both the kids and Gideon, alive. All except Bo-Katan who looked concerned, though Din didn’t know why. Cara was happy to see that Gideon was alive and captured, she could now turn him in to the New Republic. Gideon claimed that wasn’t why Bo-Katan was concerned. “Why don’t you kill him now and take it?” He said to her. Y/N grabbed his arm and shoved him down onto the stairs. “It’s yours now,” he said to Din. “What is?” He smiled, “the Darksaber, it belongs to you.”

Din deactivated the sword and walked over to hand it to Bo-Katan. “It belongs to her now,” he proclaimed. “She can’t take it,” Gideon announced with an evil smile. “It must be won, in battle.” Gideon went on to explain how claiming the Darksaber worked. Din didn’t seem to care. “I yield, it’s yours,” Din said. Gideon chuckled, explaining further and insulting Bo-Katan along the way. “He’s right,” she admitted. Din let out an annoyed sigh. “C’mon, just take it,” he hissed. He was tired of this, he just wanted to get out of here with Y/N and the kids.

The moment was interrupted by an alarm going off and Fennec went to check on it. “The ray shields have been breached,” she said. “How many life forms?” Bo asked. “None.” Was the reply. Y/N turned to Din.

The droids.

Gideon seemed confident in his droids. Everyone could see them advancing on the security feed, the intimidating droids making their way towards the bridge. Everyone looked at the systems and watched as the droids advanced on their position. Din set the saber on a control panel and set Grogu and Mandi down behind a console. Fennec called for the blast doors to be sealed and one of the other Mandalorians punched the button. “They’re here,” she said.

Everyone picked up their weapons, Y/N finding one on the ground to use. They heard the pounding on the doors as the droids began their infiltration, every person in the room ready to open fire the second the door broke down. Gideon began talking again, everyone heard his words but paid him no mind as the door began to bend. Y/N took a shaky deep breath.

Then another alarm started sounding and they could see a ship closing in through the viewports. A single X-Wing fighter. Cara seemed doubtful and the other two Mandalorians tried to make contact. No one saw Grogu stirring where Din had set him down. Y/N tried to get a look at the pilot, maybe it was someone she would recognize. The pounding on the door suddenly stopped for seemingly no reason. “Why did they stop?” Fennec questioned. Y/N touched Din’s arm and he looked at her.

They found a new target.

Everyone watched as the troopers turned to face whatever threat was coming from the X-Wing. A single figure in a black robe making their way down the empty halls. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. A Jedi. There was no one else it could be. Her suspicions were confirmed when the figure brandished a laser sword and entered combat with the dark troopers. At least they weren’t trying to get through the door anymore.

“A Jedi…” Bo-Katan breathed. Din turned to look at the screen and Y/N saw Moff Gideon start shaking, he knew he was done for if there was a Jedi coming their way. They all continued to watch as the Jedi cut through the droids like they were made of duraplast. Grogu had started to wander over to Bo-Katan’s screen when Moff Gideon struck. He shot at Bo with a blaster that he had gotten somehow, her armor deflected the blasts but it got her out of the way. He aimed at Grogu but Din was quicker, diving in front of the child and protecting him with his Beskar covered body.

Cara knocked the blaster away from him when he went to use it on himself and knocked him out with the end of her blaster rifle. Grogu had made it to the screen and touched his little hand to it, he knew that was a Jedi. Din pulled himself up to look at the screen and Y/N joined him with Mandi in her arms. The droids left the door and faced their attacker, waiting for him to get off the lift. Everyone held their breath.

The lift arrived and the Jedi cut down every droid before them, making it look effortless with the laser sword they carried. Din stood beside Grogu and watched as the Jedi arrived at the door, all the droids had been cut to pieces. Y/N’s breathing had become more shaky, she was scared. Grogu looked at Din and then pointed to the door, Din picked him up. “Open the doors,” Din said. No one moved. “I said: open the doors.” Fennec told him he was crazy as he set Grogu in a chair and pressed the button for the doors. Y/N held her breath, staying at the back of the room.

The door opened and the Jedi walked through the smoke onto the bridge. He stood for a second before deactivating his laser sword and removing his hood. Y/N instantly recognized him. “Are you a Jedi?” Din asked. The man confirmed, beckoning Grogu to him. The child whined and Din looked to the Jedi, “he doesn’t want to go with you.” “He wants your permission,” the man clarified. He went on to say that Grogu would never be safe if he wasn’t properly trained. Y/N was getting angry, her heart beating out of control. He was trying to separate them, Y/N had sworn she wouldn’t let anyone do that. She had thought that threat would come from Moff Gideon and it had, but she hadn’t expected a Jedi, especially this one, to try and separate a child from their parent. There was silence and she acted.

She cradled Mandi in one arm and snatched the Darksaber from the control panel where Din had set it, she strode across the room until she was standing between the Jedi and Mando. She activated the saber and pointed it at him, her eyes blazed with anger and defiance. The Jedi looked unaffected and Din was struck dumb, what was she doing?

“I...will n-not let-t you…t-ake this c-hild…”

Her chest was heaving from her harsh intakes of air and the saber was shaking in her nervous hands. Her words were hoarse and broken, but she could speak, barely enough to understand. The Jedi looked at her sympathetically, like the look you gave a mourning friend. “Y/N, you know I have-”

“No!” She shouted, “do not use my n-name. They will n-not be s-s-separated, Luke. I p-promised myssself that.” Everyone else in the room was confused by the things she was saying. “You of all p-people should u-understand that.” The Jedi she called Luke just stood, the same look remaining on his face, like he felt sorry for her. He was trying to reason with her.

Din was beyond confused. Why was Y/N threatening a Jedi? How did she know him? How did he know her! Was this the part of her past he didn’t know about, that she pretty much refused to talk about.

“I’m sure you’ve seen his abilities, you know he needs to be trained,” Luke said. “I know,” she swallowed, “but you c-can’t separate them…the Jedi in the past m-made that mistake. Don’t be l-like them.” Luke sighed. “There is no other option for him, even your own little one will need training when she comes of age,” he told her. Y/N looked down at Mandi, still pointing the saber at Luke. Tears welled in her eyes and Y/N blinked them away. “If you won’t l-listen to m-me, then perhaps y-you’ll listen to the Supreme Chancellor o-of the New Republic,” Y/N said.

“You don’t have to do this,” Luke pleaded as Y/N crossed the room. She deactivated the saber and stuck it in the waistband of her pants. She stood at the base control panel and pressed several buttons in sequence. Luke sighed softly and walked over to her. Everyone else exchanged glances not knowing what to do or say. Cara walked over by Din. “What’s going on?” She whispered. “I don’t know,” he answered.

Y/N turned on the long range communications and took down the shields for better signal, turning on the open frequency. “You’re attached to them,” Luke whispered from beside her. “Shut up,” she growled. She fiddled with the comms unit until a voice came through, one that Din recognized. “This is New Republic X-Wing M1-11, come in.” Y/N smirked, trying her best to clear her throat so she could be heard better. “Carson, it’s Y/N. How are you these days?” The man chuckled on the other end. “Y/N, I haven’t heard from you in years. How are you, kiddo?” Y/N smiled. “I could be better, I have a situation I need your help with. How fast can you make it to these coordinates I’m sending you?” She punched a few buttons, sending him their position in space.

Cara looked at Din. “I know that guy she’s talking to,” she whispered to him. “So do I,” Din said, “he tried to arrest me.” Cara chuckled. “Funny, he made me New Republic Marshal.” Din hummed, checking on Grogu who was still sitting in the chair.

“It might take a couple hours but we can be there,” Carson said, “What’s the occasion?” “Extraction. A few friends of mine managed to capture Moff Gideon,” she said. “You’re joking.” Y/N shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “Not joking, my friend. He’s unconscious on the floor next to me. I also have an issue with a certain Jedi that I would like the Chancellor’s help with.”

“I’ll relay the message to her. In the meantime, Trapper and I will head over there and escort your ship to a neutral planet where you can meet,” Carson explained. “Copy that,” Y/N said, “see you soon.” She ended the communication and turned to Luke. “Can we at least discuss something with the Chancellor?” She asked. “I suppose so,” he replied. She nodded and Luke nodded back at her. They turned to face the room of confused individuals. Fennec spoke first. “I can’t still be here when the New Republic arrives,” she said. “Will your friend be coming back? Can he come get you?” She thought for a moment. “I can comm him to come get me,” she said. Y/N motioned for her to have at the controls.

“So who are you?” Cara asked. “How come you have contacts with the New Republic?” Y/N looked at the floor almost in shame. “You didn’t tell them?” Luke said to her. She glanced at him then back at the floor. “Who are you?” Din asked. He needed answers, now. What had she been hiding from him? Y/N turned her head and glanced out the viewport at the stars. “Y/N, you need to tell me,” Din insisted. He walked a little closer to her. “What have you not been telling me?” He asked sternly.

Luke still stood next to her. “It’s a long story,��� she said. “She didn’t tell you she was involved in the war, did she?” Luke asked Din. Din looked between Luke and Y/N. “What?” Cara set her blaster down. “That doesn’t explain much, how does she have such high contacts?” She looked at Y/N. “Supreme Chancellor Mothma, are you serious?” Y/N held Mandi tight to her and walked closer to the window. She and Luke exchanged glances, as if she was giving him permission to speak for her.

“Technically speaking, Y/N is the second most influential and powerful person in the New Republic,” Luke informed. “What? How?” Bo-Katan finally spoke. Luke looked at Y/N again before addressing everyone else in the room.

“She’s the Supreme Chancellor’s daughter.”

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Science & Faith | Carlton Drake x Reader (4/?)

Words: 1860

A/N: I wish I could add links to this post, but I'm afraid of it not showing up in tags like it had done several times before. The masterlist for this story should be pinned on my blog and my full masterlist is in my bio.

Warning: This whole chapter is set in an AU until the end, which leads to the end of The Invisible River Part One.

-

The Invisible River Part Two

- Alternate Universe One -

At the end of the conference, Tony managed to find Carlton in the lobby. He turned and opened his mouth at the same time as Tony.

“No, you go first,” Tony insisted.

“Have you-”

“No, I go first,” he interrupted, ignoring Carlton’s glare, “Have you noticed that Rolling Pin and Doctopus aren't here?”

Carlton sighed, pushing his frustrations down to address the situation. “Yeah, they seemed to have left half way through the conference.”

“Honestly, why even bother coming if you’re just going to leave anyways? The beginning part is always pointless, who comes just for that?”

“Maybe he had an emergency,” Carlton suggested.

Tony cleared his throat, looking around to see if there were any more people lingering in the lobby before pulling Carlton on the side. He brought up his watch and projected a surveillance camera, showing Spider-man swinging towards a large building.

“Know which building that is?” Tony said, pointing at it, “That’s a laboratory built under Fisk’s name. What do you think Spandex-man is doing there?”

“Why are you coming to me with this? Aren’t you Iron-man?” Carlton asked, already on the move to leave.

Tony frowned at him, blocking his escape. “Dude, don’t you wanna check it out? Be a hero for once? I know that you were keeping tabs on ol’ Kingpin for a while.”

“I am far from being a hero, Stark,” Carlton said tiredly, pushing past him. Tony sighed, turning to fall into step with him.

“And yet, look at me. We don’t exactly fit the golden boy Captain America role, but it’s good intentions that count, right?”

“My so-called good intentions got my fiance killed, Stark. Look into it with your spider friend if you’re itching for action. I’m not looking for redemption.”

“And yet, you followed me to my car,” Tony said.

Carlton blinked, finding that he was unconsciously following Tony’s lead and was now standing next to his red shiny sports car. Tony pulled out his sunglasses and smirked, climbing in.

“Well, get in, loser, we’re going crime-stopping.”

On the way to Fisk’s labs, Tony contacted Spider-man about any updates on Fisk’s or Doctor Octavius’s movements. He confirmed that they were both in the labs for the past several hours. From the activities that he had observed, they seemed to be building a large machine deep within the labs with power sources leading underground.

“So, we’re just gonna go without backup?” Carlton asked in disbelief.

“No,” Tony scoffed, “We are the backup.”

Carlton sputtered, gesturing to himself. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Tony sighed, digging around the back of his car for a box, unceremoniously tossing a watch at Carlton. He caught it, inspecting it closely before putting it on.

“One button has a taser, the other a communicator. There’s also a little thing I added to check the cameras in the area, then there’s the iron-glove with the same functions of the ones on my suit. Oh, also, a flashlight. Can’t forget that. Plays music, too, if you want. You’re a fellow genius, Drake, you’ll figure it out.” Tony patted his back. “Watch, we’re going to be besties once this is all over.”

They waited until nightfall to start moving. Spider-man updated them on Fisk’s whereabouts, saying that his car was driving away from the building. They all met up and readily agreed that this didn’t have to be a big issue that reached the news. Secrecy wasn’t exactly Tony’s style, but he could take it seriously when he needed to.

Spider-man swiftly subdued the security guards on patrol while Tony hacked into the cameras. One guard had slipped away from his post to check on the others. Carlton quickly lifted his watch and pressed a button, hoping that it was a taser. Bright light blinded the man, making him shrink away. Carlton used this to press another button, successfully tasing him. Tony looked down at the guard and nodded over to Spider-man. He quickly lifted the man and placed him with the others that were wrapped in webbing.

“There’s an elevator near here that goes below ground level,” Tony whispered, “Or we could go through the warehouse. It’s currently empty.”

Tony waved a security guard’s keycard over the reader and Spider-man headed in first. The other two crouched in the corner and watched through the camera on the masked hero, hoping to find something. The way down to the labs below ground went smoothly and it made them feel uneasy. Each floor was brightly lit and suspiciously empty. As he reached the lowest floor, Spider-man paused in his tracks.

“Someone’s here,” he muttered.

Tony activated his iron glove and readied to go in, eyeing the camera through Carlton’s watch. Spider-man entered a narrow hallway leading towards a single metal door. His spider-senses were off the charts as he approached, turning the knob slowly. It was unlocked.

The camera suddenly blurred, followed by a loud smack. A woman in a lab coat, eyes covered by goggles, and four metal arms stretched out from her back, stood in front of him. She smirked, one arm reaching over out of the camera’s view, before pulling back and revealing Spider-man’s mask clutched in its metal claws.

“Ah, that’s a no-no,” he warned.

“Such a young man,” she cooed, an arm holding him yanking him away from the wall and slammed him into a large chair in the room. Metal clamps held his arms and legs in place, rendering him incapacitated as she casually dragged an office chair over. “I’m sure you’re curious about what we’re doing here.”

“It’d be nice if you told me,” Spider-man said.

“I’ve seen the technology you use, so I think you’d appreciate what I’m about to tell you,” she said, standing up and approaching the wide window facing a massive chamber, a large machine in the middle. “Oh, where are my manners? I'm Doctor Olivia Octavius. My friends call me Liv, but my enemies- ” Her metal arms wriggled about, one reaching over to Spider-man to touch his head “- They call me Doc Ock.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Spider-man.”

“Young man with manners. You see, Kingpin commissioned what I call a Super Collider.”

“A Super Collider?” His eyes drift towards the chamber, landing on the panel on the ceiling. Must be where the power source is. If he could just get to it… “And what does this Super Collider do?”

Tony tapped Carlton on the shoulder and they began to make their way down. Halfway down to the chamber, they started to hear footsteps. The guards were resuming their patrols. Carlton activated his iron glove, metal pieces extending from the watch to perfectly wrap around his hand, and the two scientists continued on with caution.

Doc Ock smirked at this question, turning back to her capture. “Since you came all this way, why don’t I show you what it does? It makes a magnificent light show. I’m sure you will love it.”

A few guards got in the way of Tony and Carlton’s descent, but they were swiftly taken care of and hidden. Just as they reached the narrow hallway that they saw through the camera, a booming whirring resounded from the room. They shared a panic look and rushed towards the door with their iron gloves ready.

They were met with the sight of a man that looked to be in his late twenties with ruffled brown hair wearing Spider-man’s suit. He looked to have been beaten around since that last time they had checked his camera. Tony shot a glare at the woman as her fingers fluttered over the control panel, unphased by their entrance.

“Curiosity killed the cat, fellas,” she commented as the roaring from the collider grew stronger. An atmospheric meter lowers down, a tiny light blinking.

“Stop the machine, Octopus!” Tony warned, aiming his iron glove at her.

“Or what?” She raised an eyebrow, making eye contact with him as her finger lowered towards a blinking button. “If you shoot, who knows what that will do to the machine. Could be interesting…”

A metal arm shot out before his glove could charge. He staggered back and shot out a beam, redirecting the arm and causing it to crash through the glass. She glared, whipping around to check on her machine while Tony rushed over to the revealed Spider-man.

“How you doin’, kid?” Tony whispered, releasing his limbs from the chair.

“Been better,” Peter grunted. “Is this a good time to tell you that my name’s Peter?”

“Why are you doing this?” Carlton demanded as an energy beam shot to the middle of the chamber.

“Carlton Drake,” she scoffed, turning to him, “Don’t you wish you had another chance to make things right? The choices we’re given are paths that lead to an endless possible points in our lives. Each path we choose to walk down opens up to new paths to choose from. Thus, creating- “

“Alternate realities,” Carlton finished.

Doc Ock nodded. “What if you had chosen to listen to your dear (Y/n)- “

“Don’t you dare bring them up! I made my choice and I’m living with it.”

“But what if you have access to that other choice. You can go to another reality where you’re living happily with (Y/n).”

Carlton’s eyes narrowed. “Is this why Fisk wanted you to build this?”

She shrugged. “Well, it’s something I’ve always wanted to tap into, but to have a desperate millionaire fund my little project is always a treat.” She flinched and a metal arm shot out towards the door where Tony was escaping with Peter. “You’re gonna miss the show.”

The air in the chamber began to warp, gradually forming into a portal. Doc Ock moved to give the machine more power before being intercepted by a spider web shooting out from Peter. Chaos erupted in the room, a blur of spider webs, energy beams, and metal arms flying around. The lights began to flicker, drawing their attention back to the machine that was almost at maximum power. Carlton attempted to disengage from the fight to stop the machine when one of Doc Ock’s arms swung out and knocked him out of the window.

“No!” Peter shouted, jumping to catch Carlton as he got sucked into the growing portal.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Doc Ock growled, another arm grabbing Peter and slamming him through the door.

Carlton felt the Collider pull him in. It wasn’t like a vacuum, but more like being swept away by an invisible river. He aimed his iron glove towards the ceiling panel to shut it down, then froze as he risked a glance into the portal. He saw a flash of your face, alive and happy.

Suddenly, the portal grew rapidly in an unstable manner and he could just see Doc Ock through the shatter glass with a gleeful grin on her face, a fist gripping onto a lever as she increased the power to its maximum capacity, lights flickering and surging around her. An energy beam from Tony’s iron glove shot out towards the panel before the portal swallowed Carlton completely, his body feeling as if swept away by an invisible river.

[mythgirlimagines]

It’s near impossible to miss this infamous taiko drummer! Nicknamed “The Summoner of the Rising Sun” by regular festival goers, introducing Myth Anon, the Former Ultimate Drummer!

—————-—————————————

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Myth was born and raised in a heavily traditional family that prides itself on its traditional values, alongside her two older sisters (who quickly rebelled and started illustrious sports careers). If there’s one thing that Myth looks forward to every summer, it’s the annual festivals that come every year, with the boisterous taiko drummers being a particular favorite of hers. One faithful summer, one of the taiko drummers that she idolizes so much decided to take her under their wing, in order to become a fully-fledged taiko drummer. Before you knew it, Myth became a massive staple of festivals everywhere, thanks to her loud voice and bombastic stage presence. When not performing at festivals, Myth likes to cheer on her sisters in their respective sports competitions, or upload drum set covers on the internet (with the help of her more technologically-adept friends). Myth’s skills in both taiko drumming and set drumming gave her the title of “Ultimate Drummer”, once she hit high school age. As an adult, her drumming skills are still going strong, and she’s currently working on chaperoning a bunch of Ultimates at the Kibo-Con.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Samurai

Myth’s family and Wyre‘s family have been formidable allies, ever since the dawn of time, and Myth and Wyre themselves are no exception, being two birds of a feather, when it comes to sheer energy and wildness, as well as their strict upholding of their ancestor’s traditional values. Historical enthusiasts like to call them “possible time travelers from the past” or “living relics”, whenever they’re seen side-by-side. Wyre is one of the most formidable warriors that her family has ever seen, and is a beast in both brute strength and swordplay, and has an unshakeable code of bushido to those that treat her with respect, underneath that wild, feral and almost dog-like personality.

Outfit: Cleanier and smoother hair with a Nippon Icchi headband around her head, a red oni mask on the side of her head, a green and light brown haori and an off-white obi that houses a brown scabbard over a black gakuran uniform, bandaged arms and legs, black socks and white zori sandals.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Delivery Girl

Scar’s parents are the owners of the “Witch’s Brew Kitchen”, which is a restaurant that is famous for its dark and fantasy-esque wares and the employees acting a lot like what the modern generation refers to as ”chuunibyous”, when on the job. When Witch’s Brew Kitchen eventually offered online -induced delivery, they sent their ambitious daughter to deliver food (along with a couple of other employees) to all of the homes of the hungry (if lazy) customers. Time after time, Myth just winds up befuddled by Scar’s various odd actions. But Myth regularly helps Scar with deliveries, for her muscular build owes very well to lifting particularly heavy orders, much to the overworked Scar’s elation. 

Outfit: A black delivery uniform with added spiked belts, and her hair in a ponytail, the scarf from her original design..

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Racer

Able to back up his extensive and nerdy knowledge of race cars and the race track with the ability to race down the track at high speeds, Fusion became famous for his superb skills, despite his age, and made a massive name for himself in the car racing circuit and as Hope’s Peak’s ”Ultimate Racer”. Fusion and Myth regularly protect and fuss over the other Ultimates, along with Scar. In turn, Fusion and Scar regularly watch over Myth, to make sure that her fiery attitude doesn’t get her into any trouble. Myth may consider bringing her oendan team to cheer Fusion on, during his races.

Outfit: A blue jumpsuit with yellow thunderbolt designs over the red t-shirt from his original design, yellow gloves, black and white sneakers, goggles on top of his hair.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Pinball Wizard

With a heavy appreciation for the hobbies and pastimes of the olden days, Fusion II made a name for herself as the top pinball champion in any arcade that she happens to find eye-catching and cool enough. In an attempt to be seen as cool by her peers, Fusion II attempted to adopt the image and fashion sense of a greasy rebel without a cause that were so popular in the mid-1900s. But upon seeing a fellow history geek (albeit, a fan of the the entirely wrong time period), Fusion II’s spiked greaser shell quickly broke and her geeky side just sprang out. The two girls love to talk about their respective time periods together, and Myth learned that Fusion II wasn’t as much of a troublemaker as she thought.

Outfit: Bangs greased back, a black leather jacket and matching leather pants and fingerless gloves over the undershirt from her original design, boots from her original design.

Just Anon, Ultimate Gunslinger

Being born and raised in a kill-or-be-killed world that could take advantage of his small and weak build (and his general laziness), Janon had to master the use of a certain weapon to make it out alive and into his comfortable bed. Janon specializes in quickly drawing a gun out of his holster, shooting it with mighty precision, and putting it back into his holsters, without anybody knowing what hit them. Janon’s sheer disrespect for everybody (apart from Curious and Iris, but he’d be shot dead in an alley before said soft spot is made public) really puts him at odds with Myth, and Janon just finds Myth (and her drumming) really loud and intrusive on his (extremely-long) beauty sleep.

Outfit: A black cowboy hat, a blue and pink poncho over the formal wear and mask from his original design, brown holsters that house his pistols.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Statistical Analyst

Blessed with a high intelligence quotient and a love for calculating statistics, Sparkle works for several global companies and helps prevent them from making foolish decisions that could cause their businesses to crash and burn. Assisting all of these high-profile companies gave her quite the large ego, and combined with her love of all things theatrical, you’d get a heavily melodramatic, self-proclaimed “SUPERBLY SPECTACULAR STATISTICAL SOMMELIER”, who regularly boasts about all of the random statistics that she can name off the top of her head. Myth seems to be one of the few people that can tolerate her volume, and thinks Sparkle would make an excellent addition to her group.

Outfit: A grey pantsuit over a pink dress shirt and matching heels, the cape and glasses from her original design.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Thanatologist, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Revolutionary

While similar in aesthetics and their love for inserting out-of-left-field and cursed comments into otherwise normal conversation, Egg and Wet Sock are very  different in terms of personality and talent. Despite being superbly chaotic and almost too obsessed with the concept of death, Egg is surprisingly a great grief counselor to people in mourning, while Wet Sock leads a rebellion group with an iron fist and doesn’t mince their words when it comes to the terrible state of the world. While Myth was initially unnerved by the twins, Myth eventually found out just how kind and dependable Egg and Wet Sock was in spite of their cursed comments and less-than-conventional worldviews. 

Outfits: Skull masks (symbols of Wet Sock’s movement), black sweaters with white stripes on the sleeves and a red heart in the center, blue ripped jeans and spiked black boots.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Fashion Designer

Curious was born into a family that was at the top of both the social and the fashion ladder, and Curious has been put to work designing clothes, ever since he started showing considerable skill in sketching out and designing clothes. In spite of their age, Curious is known as a fashion genius and a pioneer in the new age of gender-non-conforming formal wear, with the hybrid suit-dress being a particular speciality of their’s. Curious has a very gullible personality, and Myth regularly takes advantage of their gullibility to plan some mischief together and just toying with the fashion designer in general, much to the ire of Janon and the Freak Twins. Myth also loves modeling for them.

Outfit: Hair tied into a ponytail, a green tuxedo with white wedding dress material on the ends and white heels.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Priest

Born into an extremely religious family, Nerd’s family repeatedly drilled all of the God-loving philosophies into his head and trained him to become a professional priest (just like every other man in his family) for as long as he lived under their roof. While Nerd is patient and calm, when it comes to conducting religious ceremonies, he’s the complete antithesis of that, the second he steps outside of a religious building, or the second anybody disrespects his faith, being loud, violent, and vulgar. While Nerd initially had a disrespectful and terrible attitude in the eyes of Myth, Nerd and Myth eventually became closer, thanks to their protective attitudes and shared strong and unshakeable moral codes.

Outfit: Same outfit as the original, but with the addition of a golden cross necklace.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Mangaka

Too scared of the outside world to even leave the squalid apartment that he resides in, Eldritch, desperate to wake the world up to the fact that they live in a dystopia, decided to write manga under the pet name “Sheeple Savior”, which are usually about seemingly-normal towns suffering from horrible atrocities, that everybody (but the “chosen one”) remains completely blind to. Years of living in an isolated apartment, combined with his already paranoid and pessimistic mindset, means that he shows a hostile distrust to everybody, with Myth’s loud and overbearing attitude just scaring the miniature mangaka away. Myth also can’t handle all of the subject matter that Eldritch writes.  

Outfit: Long and unkempt hair, a white and baggy t-shirt with a spiral in the center, the shorts, socks, and slippers from his original design.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Barista

Originally getting a job at the local coffee shop to earn some extra pocket money, as Dream spent more and more time as a barista, she eventually became one of the most popular employees at the coffee shop, thanks to her cheery and peppy attitude and the sheer passion that she puts into making and serving coffee. Before meeting Dream, Myth has never had coffee before (due to her upbringing, she prefers tea), and Dream regularly likes offering a plain latte to anybody who never had coffee before. This has led to disastrous and chaotic results, as the taiko drummer went on an utter rampage, and it took several cups of green tea and Wyre to calm the drummer down.

Outfit: A grey ski cap, a green apron over a black t-shirt with a white illustration of a steaming cup of coffee, a pink flannel shirt wrapped around her waist, grey shorts, black socks and pink sneakers. 

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Bed Tester

As a young and optimistic girl with very big dreams, she takes all of the tasks thrown at her seriously and with great gusto, no matter how ridiculous the side hustles are. But her most successful side hustle yet has to be a bed tester for a heavily influential bed-manufacturing company, called “Sweet Dream Industries”. Getting the Starry Iris Badge of Approval is how one knows that a bed is comfortable and satisfactory to sell. Needless to say, when Myth first met Iris and heard about her talent, she was outright cackling for minutes on end. Once she got over the thought of Iris’s talent, she began viewing Iris as a younger version of her, and is extra protective of Iris for that reason.

Outfit: Hair in two messy braids, glasses on top of her head, galaxy-printed pajamas, yellow ankle socks.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Card Shark

Though originally the scion of a very influential family, Purple’s parent ended up going bankrupt after accidentally getting tangled up in the criminal underworld. Now at the bottom of the social and monetary ladder, Purple decided to take to the gambling tables, in order to replace the riches that her family ended up losing. From there, the shy scion learned about her talent for deceit, and became known by many as the Ultimate Card Shark. Ever since Myth heard about Purple’s talent, the strong-moral-compassed drummer didn’t want to tangle with anyone who lied for a living. This makes Purple one of the few Kibo-Con attendees who Myth openly dislikes, much to the dismay of the timid gambler.

——————————————————-

PERSONALITY

Drummer!Myth has a very loud voice and an equally boisterous presence, which really helps her be heard in the festivals that she regularly attends, as well as leading her oendan group/band. Despite seeming overbearing, rough, and hard-headed, once you get on her good side, you have only the most loyal and supportive friend by your side. Despite being the youngest sister in her family, she often acts like a supportive and protective older sibling to the Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates. She loves using her strength to help anybody in need, and it gave her infamy amongst her hometown, for her helpful attitude and the physical abilities to back it up. Apart from drumming, Drummer!Myth also has a love for sports (thanks to her two older siblings) and ancient history and traditions (thanks to her upbringing), and wouldn’t tolerate anybody who disses either of those things. 

—————————-——-——————-

APPEARANCE

Drummer!Myth has wild and tousled brown hair in a ponytail held by a white ribbon with a pink headband around her head. Drummer!Myth simply wears her oendan/festival wear, which consists of a sleeveless robe that’s white on the left side and blue on the right side with a special purple pattern on the bottom, and tying it all together is a pink obi. Underneath the robe are white bandages that bind her chest and black shorts. The bracelets on each of her bandage wrapped arms match her shorts and she wears white socks and geta sandals that boost up her height.

——————-————————————

I honestly have no idea why, but I decided to go for a different drummer, as opposed to the kind that Max is. I decided to take cues from the two best fictional taiko drummers I know: Saeko from Haikyuu, and Tomoe from Bandori! I hope you like this design! Let me hear your opinions on this AU!

[ethereaiin]

Entwined | fate grand order

synopsis; there were so many things left unsaid between the two of you. one day you'd tell her she meant more to you than she ever realized. 

features; you and kyrielight mash

[au]

extra; game spoilers included!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

       There was only a handful of times you genuinely felt helpless against the tides of fate. Much of how others thought of you, you were an optimistic person who liked to look at the brighter sides of things even when it seemed as if the whole world was against you. It was what kept you grounded during the tough fight against Tiamat in Babylonia. No matter what happened, no matter the circumstances, you always believed you’d prevail. Besides, what choice did you have?

       Giving up would mean the end of humanity and you… you weren’t ready to die just yet nor were you willing to see all the hard work from everyone back in Chaldea go to waste. You alone were the only person able to put a stop to Solomon’s madness and no matter how much you may have wished to, you couldn’t exactly turn away from it. Humanity, metaphorically, rested atop your shoulders and you weren’t that much of a fool to deny your responsibility. You had things, people, to fight for and as you stand before Solomon’s grand throne, you couldn’t help but think of them.

       The doctor, undoubtedly believed you’d return unscathed and successful in your battle against Solomon. It was his greatest hope and although he was more of the type to be rife with anxiety during a stressful mission, you thought he might have had a little more hope than you in this situation. Da Vinci, being the arguably more sensible one out of the two, even she would have at least acknowledged the difficulty of the task you and Mash were undertaking. Still, she would have given you that gentle smile that you assured you what you should have already known from the beginning.

       You knew fear like the back of your hand. You felt it when you stared at the approaching form of Tiamat when she broke through Uruk’s walls and you felt it now when you realized you had failed to stop Solomon’s noble phantasm from going off. It was a cold sensation, one that left you feeling numb and not at all like yourself. Normally you would have felt that familiar flicker of hope deep within your chest, the one that assured you that no matter what you’d succeed.

       Yet the moment that smug grin reached Solomon’s lips, you knew. There wasn’t any hope left to believe in.

       How were you meant to defeat him when it seemed as if your servants had done nothing to make even a dent in his resolve? The fear was almost painful and the hopelessness that accompanied it could have crushed you under its weight.

       “Master!”

       You flinched, your eyes meeting the violet gaze of Mash who looked to have also been slightly shaken by the outcome of things yet she held her composure far better than you.

       Her face and the bit of exposed skin on her arms were covered in scrapes. Her armor looked no better, parts were missing and it was dinged with the wear of battle. It was a testament to the amount of effort she placed in the task the both of you were assigned and it wasn’t as if you looked any better. Your uniform was torn in places and you could feel the sting of your wounds each time you moved. You both looked worse for wear, yet there was a difference between you two.

       While you looked as if you had given up, Mash still held the look of faith.

       With brows furrowed and a determined frown drawn across her lips, she protectively held her shield in front of you as if to block the sight of Solomon’s menacing figure from your line of sight if only for a moment.

       “Get ahold of yourself, senpai.” Her change in titles meant she were speaking to you as the Mash you knew to be your friend and not the Mash you knew as your servant. “All of those servants out there…” She shuttered, her one visible eye blinking rapidly as if she were holding back tears and knowing her sentimental nature, you knew she must have been. “They weren’t willing to sacrifice their lives for you to give up now! We will get through this, senpai. Just like how we got through everything else!”

       Her words, as strong as they were, reminded you of the same lines you used to recite to her when she began showing doubts in her capabilities. It was odd to find yourself dealing with such pessimistic thoughts when you were once the one doing all the encouraging. The fear and hopelessness you felt throughout your being didn’t suddenly dissipate with her words, but it did lessen.

       “But, how?” Your voice couldn’t help but convey the heavy dread you felt. Your tone was weak due to your exhaustion and you could barely look Mash in the eye as you revealed the extent of your forlorn.

       At this, Mash smiled. It was gentle and held a hint of understanding. She must have known how you felt and it was all conveyed with one mere look. You could hear Solomon beginning the start of his phantasm and though you could feel your heart pumping faster in response to it, Mash didn’t seem to lose her cool. She placed herself in front of you, shield separating the both of you and Solomon’s glowing figure.  

       “I’ll protect you, senpai.” She simply states, her smile never fading even as she turned her back towards you. “Just as you have always done for me.”

       It takes you a moment to understand just what she meant by her words and when it finally does register in your mind, its already too late. Just as you were about to reach out to her to stop her from doing whatever it was she was planning, there as blinding flash of light that emitted from where Solomon stood. It was so bright that you couldn’t help but shield your eyes away from its rays with your arm. Although you could no longer see as well, you could hear Mash shout to activate her noble phantasm and the subsequent increase in brightness as Solomon’s phantasm assumedly shot off. Your ears perked at the sound of her cries as she held against the intensity of his power and you knew it was taking all her might to hold her ground. The floor shook beneath you and your eardrums burst with the thundering sound of an explosion. It rings throughout all of the area and you're sure its loud enough even for Romani and Da Vinci to hear all the way back in Chaldea.

       You knew she wouldn’t survive this. No human could and even if she were a demi-servant, it would not exempt her from the destruction such power would do to her body.

       Your arm, that wasn’t shielding your eyes, desperately reached out towards her. Your screams of her name was buried beneath the noise of Solomon’s power and you doubted she would even turn around to acknowledge you even if she could hear. Your heart pounded painfully against your chest and the corners of your eyes pricked with tears that ran hotly down your cheeks. You already knew what was going to happen, you could already see parts of her disappearing right before your eyes and there wasn’t a thing you could do to stop it. Your eyes clenched shut as the intensity of light grew to an unbearable amount and your arms moved to shield your face completely from the bit of rays that peeked over both Mash’s form and her steady shield. There was a combination of fear and pressure from the overwhelming amount of mana being blasted towards you that kept you in place on the ground you collapsed upon. You couldn't move an inch from your position and once again you felt that feeling of sheer helplessness creep upon you.

       Without Mash by your side, what could you possibly hope to achieve?

       There was a burning smell in the air that made you scrunch your nose and once the blinding light dimmed down you snapped open your eyes to peer at what remained. Burns covered your arms and your clothes were reduced to nothing more than singed tatters. Mash’s shield still stood grounded in front of you, but there were no signs of the girl anywhere to be found, leaving only one conclusion you morbidly expected.

       You felt your heart drop and the tears which were burned away returned in tenfold. Instead of the fear you felt only moments prior, it was replaced with a fiery anger. Your eyes sharpened into a heated glare as you shot up from your place on the ground and when you gazed into the unfazed visage of Solomon, you could feel nothing but hatred. Your right hand rose from your side, the sigil marking you as a Master glowing a crimson red. Although your voice wavered with both fatigue and grief, your tone still held firmly.

       “Servants, with this command spell I order you…”

       “...pai? Senpai!”

       You awoke with a startled gasp that had you shooting into an upright position. Sleepily, you glanced around the lounge you were napping away in when you caught sight of a familiar violet haired girl kneeling beside you with a look of concern. Mash’s hands were hovering midair, due to your abrupt actions after she shook you awake. You blinked hazily at her before rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hands.

       “Mash… what’s wrong?” Your tone was still heavy with drowsiness but that still didn’t seem to ease the concern Mash gazed at you with.

       “Um, senpai, I should be asking you that… I heard you crying in your sleep.” She states with furrowed brows and sure enough you could feel a distinct dampness to your lower lids and the apples of your cheeks. “I thought you were having a nightmare so I woke you up.”

       Staring at the teardrop that strayed on the surface of your knuckle, you could just barely recall the reason for your sudden sorrow. Your dream was a memory of sorts. The final events that concluded the grand order was significant enough to be forever ingrained in your head. You could never forget the pain you felt with the loss of two of your dearest friends and although one of them returned back to you, you couldn’t exactly forget everything else that led up to that moment.

       Your eyes clenched shut for a brief moment, the flashed images of Doctor Romani’s soft smile appearing behind your lids as a sigh escaped your lips. You shook your head to dismiss both her concern and the memories that plagued you.

       “It’s nothing Mash,” In a show of assurance, you flashed her a grin as you rose up from the sofa along with her. “You were right, I was just having a bad dream.”

       Mash stared at you for a moment her gaze letting you know that she didn’t believe a word you said, yet she didn’t pry for anything more. She simply slipped her hand in yours with a slight blush that colored her pale cheeks before she began to lead you out of the room.

       “There’s something I wish to show you, senpai.” She shyly mutters though through the silence permeating the halls, you hear her clearly.

       Your curiousity is piqued and although you voice it with a variety of questions directed towards her, she never once gives into your pleas to relent a hint. You thought she was far too stubborn in that regard and although you sport a petulant pout throughout your journey through Chaldea’s halls, you still find the excitement of mystery to be riveting.

       It was only until she stopped in front of the door to her room that she dropped her hand from your own and it was then you realized she hadn’t once let it go since she awoke you from your nap. Although you never considered yourself to be the easily flustered type, your cheeks couldn’t help but burn at her bold move. While Mash could do such things in her excitement, she’s never knowingly initiated contact like that before by herself.

       “Senpai,” She calls, taking you out of your thoughts as she beckons you into her darkened room.

       With a bit of apprehension, you wander in and when you hear her footsteps near you, you glance over your shoulder at Mash as your lips part with an obvious question. “What did you wanna show me?”

       Through the dimly lit room, you see her lips turn up into a cheery smile and once she steps up besides you, she leans in a little to answer in a lowered voice. “You’ll see.”

       Your curiousity is hard to hide and with some impatience, you watch as she leaves your side to walk further into the room followed by a click of a switch a few moments after. You hear a low humming noise and then suddenly the ceiling above you is encased in an array of stars. The room immediately light up in a dim blue hue and you can’t help the awe of wonder that unconsciously escaped you. You’re so entranced by the sight of stars that you don’t even notice when Mash closes the door to her room, further shrouding her room in darkness nor do you hear her when she takes her place at your side.

       “Mash,” Your wonder is so glaringly obvious at this point you don’t even try and hid it in the tone of your voice. “Where did you get this?”

       You knew they weren’t real stars, but they looked real enough. Since coming to Chaldea, you haven’t seen stars in awhile other than the ones in singularities, but even then those always had a bit of an artificial feel to them. To you, these stars felt a lot more different from the ones before and you couldn’t exactly understand why. Maybe it was because these were the stars Mash showed you and already that made them more special than the others.

       When you didn’t get an immediate answer from Mash like you had expected, you turned your head to glance at her only to find her already staring back at you. She blinked in surprise at the sudden connection of your gaze before blushing and averting her eyes elsewhere.

       “D-Da Vinci made it…” She relents as she rose her head to stare at the same stars you did. “When I told her that I wanted to see stars, she gave me this… she also said I should show you too.”

       “Did she?”

       Even in the dim light you could see Mash’s cheeks darken as she mumbled out a confirmation to your question. Your lips widened into a cheeky grin, though you didn’t bother pressing her any further. When you dragged your eyes right back up at the twinkling stars above, you felt a sense of peace come over you. It was a refreshing feeling especially after an awful nightmare of a memory.

       “Senpai, do you feel better now?”

       Once again your gaze caught hers though she was admittedly more calmer than the last time your eyes met. She was concerned for you. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that. For the past few weeks your nightmares have run rampant to the point where you’d much rather stay awake than sleep and the effects it had on your health were becoming increasingly apparent. You had no doubts Da Vinci had probably voiced her concerns with your latest check-up to Mash.

       You exhale a quiet sigh as your lips quirk into a demure smile. When your gaze returns back to the stars, Mash’s does not. Her attention sticks on you and your wistful profile.

       “They’re just memories, Mash. The dreams I have are just memories,” You admit though your tone shakes near the end and your eyes burn with the return of tears. Just talking about the matter was enough to almost break you. “But it hurts to remember… It hurts so, so bad.”

       Although your explanation was all too vague and would have had just about anyone attempting to pry for more context, you knew Mash would understand because she was there. She experienced a majority of it save for an event you would never want her to see if she could help it. The insurmountable guilt you felt along with the grief wasn’t anything Mash deserved and in that respect you were almost glad she wasn’t there to see it.

       Your countless regrets and the what if scenarios you made up only added more to your guilt. There were numerous people who have told you nothing was your fault, yet you couldn’t accept it.

       If only you were a better master. If only you made your servants stronger. If only you had finished him off in time. If only, if only, if only.

       It was never ending and these thoughts swirled within your head during the hours you were meant to be asleep. It was no wonder you preferred to busy yourself with other things during those troubled nights.

       Your heart painfully squeezed within your chest and that bitter, empty feeling returned. You could feel bubbles of tears rolling down your cheeks though you did nothing to stop them. You just stood there, staring up at the sea of stars with only the feeling of cruel remorse.

       The feeling of warm arms wrapping around your midsection caught you off guard and it was only until you glanced down at the top of Mash’s head resting against your chest that you realized she had been there all along. Her touch had given you a sense of comfort and it was that sensation of her arms around you that you used as an anchor to bring you back up from the thoughts you were sinking into.

       After your small bout of surprise, you lowered your own arms to wrap around her form before resting your cheek against the crown of her head. Although she liked to proclaim how much you protected her, you thought of the same thing with her. She protected you in her own subtle way.

       Whether she was aware of it or not, right now she was the sole reason you kept going and without her, you weren’t sure where’d you be.

[outerbankslut]

Childhood Friends... Pope Heyward

Summary • You have been in love with Pope Heyward since you first met him when you were younger. But there’s one or two problems. Or so you think. He doesn’t like you. Does he?

Warnings • Swearing. Underage drinking.

Word Count • 3.3k (Imagine)

Masterlist

(GIF isn’t mine, let me know if it’s yours)

    AT EIGHT YEARS old you first met Pope Heyward. The concept of Outer Banks at such a young age seemed like a dream for you. Never ending beaches. Hot weather practically all the time. Surfing and swimming at your beck and call. It was a stark change from living in Minnesota.

The house you moved into was a small two story house next to one almost identical. And the day you had moved in a boy came knocking at the door. He seemed around your age and held a pie dish in his hands seemingly quite nervous. Your parents were upstairs unpacking so you opened the door hoping maybe you could make a friend.

"My mum made me bring this pie for you since we’re neighbours, here you go." He kept his eyes trained on the ground then handing you the pie and scurrying back home before you could even take a breath. Your face dropped as he ran off but you felt determined to make him a friend, after all you were neighbours so how hard could it be since you'd see him almost all the time.

A few days later your mum wanted to buy some groceries rather than living off of takeaway food for any longer and opted for going to Heywards shop. Which ended up being your neighbours store.

You wandered through the store while your mum chatted with Heyward and eventually stumbled upon the boy who ran away sitting on the floor and reading a comic.

"Spider-Man's really cool." You had said sitting down next to him as his head snapping to the side suddenly looking from his marvel comic to you. It was a surprise he didn't get whiplash.

"Really? I think so too." The boy gushed about the hero while you sat listening. Then your mum called you from the front of the store and you pouted, sad you could hang out with your new friend any longer.

Then the next thing you knew the eight year old boy was dragging you both to your feet and taking you to the candy area. He handed you a chocolate bar with a cheeky grin. "Don't tell my dad."

You nodded and giggled before rushing off to your mum and looking back at your new friend happily. Your parents invited the Heywards around for weekly dinners and alternated between houses becoming good family friends which only strengthened you and Popes friendship.

After that began it was an almost daily thing for you to hang out. You and Pope were attached by the hip. You went on your bikes together. Even took kids surfing lessons together. Though Pope practically already knew how to surf since he was raised on the water.

As you grew older you would do your homework together with the Heyward boy often helping you with the subjects you struggled in while you helped him with the things he struggled with.

Eventually you offered to help with the shop to pass time and hang out with your friend and at this point the Heywards were like family to you.

When you were both ten years old Pope had the idea to make a tree house. And though not the best considering it ended up just a rickety platform balancing on branches with ladders either side of it, it still worked. The tree overhung both houses back gardens with its trunk positioned just on the edge of your garden.

You met two more goofs that year. JJ and John B. The two Js was what you called them at first. You became fast friends with their long hanging bond similar to yours with pope. You fit like a lock and a key together. However you never showed the Pogues the treehouse, it was just you and Popes little space.

You spent a lot of time up there just staring up at the stars of reading. Pope liked to talk about all his hopes and dreams while you were there and you listened.

"Y/N, do you think I’ll be able to get into a good college. Like for forensic pathology." He asked as you laid on the 'treehouse' could you even call it that.

"Pope you are the smartest person I know. So it's unlikely that you won't get into anywhere you want."

"I know it's just—I don't think my dad can afford it so I'll need to get a scholarship. There'll be be hundreds of people competing for it. I'm just a drop in the ocean to them." He ranted and you could hear the stress in his voice. This wasn't something someone as smart and determined as Pope should have to stress about was all you thought. He deserved so much while people who deserved so much less got fed with a silver spoon up in figure eight.

"They'd be dumb not to let you in. I don’t see how you wouldn’t. I have faith in you but I will also do whatever it takes to get you in. I'll pay for your tuition myself if I have to. Or I'll find some dirt on the dean and—"

"I'd rather not have my acceptance be a product of your blackmailing ways Y/N but thankyou and I'm not letting you pay for my tuition." He laughed. It was the melodic sound that rung in your ears that made you smile and turn your head away from the stars and towards him. The small lights you had hanging from the tree branches were bouncing off of his beautiful chestnut skin. His eyes were a shade of dark honey brown that simmered in the light. He was amazing in every single way.

Your fourteen year old self was starting to realise what you had been oblivious to the whole time. You would do anything for Pope. He was your ride or die. And you hoped you were his.

However when Kiara came in was when things went weird between you and Pope. She waltzed in in all her kook glory looking like a goddess. So of course you couldn't blame the boys when suddenly all their attention was on her and her beautiful brown wavy hair or golden cocoa skin that glimmered in the sunlight. You couldn't figure out whether she was just born lucky with amazing genetics or whether she was a vampire like from Twilight. Either way, Pope Heyward fell and he fell hard that year. At work he always spoke about her and it was slowly killing you inside. Every time he mentioned it you swore you heard your heart break and crack into more pieces.

You wished you could tell him. But you would be putting your friendship on the line. It would be selfish to tell him when he clearly wasn’t interested.

Instead of moping over an unattainable crush you attempted to move on. And to everyone’s surprise started flirting back with JJ. He was always shooting his shot like he did with Kie and tourons at keggers but normally you never flirted back. You thought somehow within your skewed logic it would work and you would be over Pope. Like the saying fake it till you make it. But it just bought your thoughts back to how it wasn’t Pope.

The Heyward boy started to pay more attention to it. He got a weird feeling in his stomach everytime he saw you laughing at JJs jokes and not his or just talking to each other. He stared every time you flipped your long glossy hair over your shoulder and looked flawless or would saunter off back into the chateau for a drink.

His interest turned from anyone to you within a second of a word coming from you pink lips. But you had convinced yourself he wasn't interested and you were oblivious to his newfound feelings. And so he stayed blind as he had been before to yours.

    "HEY WHAT’RE YOU doing over here, lil red." JJs nickname had originated from the fact that red was your favourite colour. You had even dressed up as little red riding hood one year for Halloween which sparked the full nickname. It was sweet but in no way anything more than a friendly nickname. Although Pope begged to differ. You sat leaning against the wooden poll on the wooden floor of the dock. Your arms wrapped around your legs pulling them close to your chest giving you a sense of comfort as you stared at the sunset across the marsh.

You turned to the blond sending him a small smile before turning back to the sinking blends of fluorescent pink and oranges blurring into one beautiful mess in the sky. "Watching the sunset."

"Mind if I watch too?" He asked settling down beside you and resting his arms on his knees. You nodded. It turned away from the sky.

You heard the laugh of Pope from behind you and turned this time you turned away to look seeing Pope laughing with Kie that just sparked jealousy in your stomach. He looked so happy with her.

"So what's the deal with that?" JJ asked from beside you and you turned to him confusion splattering on your features which were orange from the light hitting of the setting sun.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the long glances, more like stares really and when you tell a joke you always look to Pope first. You look at him like he's the best thing in the world. Not to mention you randomly starting to flirt with me. I'm a professional ladies man. I notice these things. You’re not interested in me, it’s Pope." He blurted out and you sat rubbing a hand over your face with a sigh.

"I don’t do any of that." JJ have you a look which you shrugged at. “Look I—I did, but I don’t anymore.”

“You sure about that?” JJ kept his stare on you as you shuffled uncomfortably before sighing.

“I just wish he could just like me back, but he never will he’ll always like Kie and I don’t wanna be jealous of them cause then I’ll be a terrible friend but... I can’t help it.”

“Lil red, I know you might not believe me but I think Pope does like you. A lot. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s not just some friendly look.” He places his hand on your shoulder rubbing it softly and you send him a tight lipped smile.

“Maybe he does, I doubt it though. And people say girls are complicated. You boys are just as complicated.” You teased bumping his shoulder as he let go of yours. “But anyway we’re forgetting about the most important rule ever. No pogue on pogue macking.”

JJ snorted shaking his head. “Don’t bring up that bullshit rule. I know that if anyone of you showed interest in me it would be out of the window.”

“I’m not particularly a rule breaker unlike you.”

“Rules are made to broken but you’re just boring Lil Red.” You gasped and turned to your friend.

“No I am not. Take it back.” You glared at him jokingly.

“What’re you gonna do?”

You raised your eyebrows and then pushed the boy off the dock thinking you’d suceeded for a slip second until he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you in too.

Pope watched the two of you laughing and talking for a while without you realising and then he saw you both fall in the water together laughing and looking like you belonged together. He shook his head slightly as he looked back to Kie who stared with worried eyes.

“You okay Pope?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine just thinking.” Kie nodded going back to talking to John B until a shout erupts and they both turned to see JJ and you in the water. Pope was already looking.

“Lil red what the fuck?” He laughed shaking off his hair while you rung your own out still looking amazing to Pope.

“You said I was boring.” You shrugged chuckling and then screeching as you were pushed back under the water.

“I’m honestly surprised they’re not together yet.” Kie laughed looking at the two other boys beside her.

“You think they like each other?” Pope asked worry pinched in his eyebrows. It was one thing for him to think it but for Kie to confirm his thoughts made his stomach churn.

“Well yeah, I mean look at them.”

Pope was looking at them. And he saw it clear as day. You and him were never going to happen.

You breathed heavily as you and JJ walked up the steps to the docks. “Hey I know what we can do to help get your mind off of Pope for a night.”

“What?”

“A kegger.”

    THE PARTY HAD started two hours ago and was roaring with teens, kooks and Pogues alike hung together for one night filled with truce, beer and weed.

He had left you a few minutes before to pursue a girl of course while you sat around a bonfire staring at the embers that floated into the midnight sky. But you were still thinking about him. He was stuck in your thoughts like superglue. You'd hoped that maybe alcohol would help loosen you up and get you out of your head but being alone and drunk made it worse.

Pope stood by Kie as you sat at the fire by yourself. Now was his chance to tell you and maybe you would like him back but if you didn't then maybe it would be less embarrassing since you were drunk. However he was not drunk since he abstained from the beer despite the multitudes of parties they had. He was the designated driver type.

"I'm gonna go over to Y/N." Kiara nodded before she continued talking to a random boy that sat next to her.

He walked across the sand catching your attention as you snapped your head up to see him heading your way.

"Hey Pope."

You were surprised he left Kie.

"You looked a little lonely so I'm giving you company."

"Oh Thankyou. My saviour." You said jokingly. Taking a swig of beer you examined the boys face. It twitched with nerves as he sat next to you and fiddled with his fingers.

He looked up at you with a small smile. “Y/N, I—”

“God, girls around here really have a good left hook.” JJ groaned holding his face sitting down next to you on the log interrupting Pope who he hadn’t noticed.

Then JJ looked up to see Pope sitting there awkwardly and you almost laughing at the fact that he got punched by a girl which never happened before. “Oh shit sorry I didn’t realise...”

“Realise what?” You asked shaking your head cluelessly before you dragged yourself up. “I need another drink.”

JJ tried to stop you but before he knew it you were at the keg with him following after.

“Uh, Lil red, I think Pope might’ve been about to tell you he liked you.”

“Wait, what? Really?” You almost dropped your beer as your hands went slack in shock but you quickly gripped it tight swallowing some. Pope stared into as you had walked away from him with JJ following. Of course he was going after you because like Kie said, they liked each other. He wanted to see if he could forget, so he did something he would probably regret.

“I’m pretty sure I mean he looked like he was going to. I really need to talk to him...” The blond trailed off as he stared at something behind him.

“What is it?” You were about to turn around until JJ held your shoulders in place until your shoved them off and saw what you never wanted to see.

Pope was kissing a girl. Not Kie though. It was just a random girl who he was kissing. Your eyes burned with tears as you turned to JJ scoffing.

“Yeah he definitely likes me doesn’t he.” You choked back a sob shoving the beer into JJs hand and running off into the trees.

Pope has pulled away just in time to see it and instant regret filled his stomach.

“Pope, buddy, what did you do?” JJ asked softly as Pope looked at his walking away from the random girl who looked taken aback.

“I’m so sorry.” He apologised and she rolled her eyes walking off. “I don’t know what was going through my head, one second I was at the fire the next I was kissing a random girl.”

“Look, bro, just go find her and explain everything.”

“Yeah, I’ll—I’ll do that.”

You had walked the farthest you could from the party, still bare foot since your shoes were in the van and John B had the keys. You were leaning against a tree trunk when you decided to go to the one place that would comfort you most despite reminding you of him.

You went straight home taking 20 minutes to walk down the cold desolate roads that were dark by this time. The first thing you did was get ice cream from the freezer before making your way to the tree house and wrapping yourself in the blankets befor leaning against one of the many pillows stored there. You listened to the gentle breeze above rustling the leaves of the blooming trees and the crickets in the distance and felt the gentle swaying of the platform beneath you.

This was your comfort place. It was the only place you felt like this since it was where you created all your favourite memories with Pope Heyward. The unattainable boy who had always been by your side.

By the time Pope made it home it was completely dark but he knew exactly where you would be. He made his way to his backyard and saw your small figure and made his way up. You sat up quickly and almost burst into more tears after seeing him.

"Y/N..."

"Pope what are you doing here?" You asked as he climbed up the ladder.

"I came to check up on you..." He sighs and sits down next to you. "And I came to say that that kiss was a big mistake."

"Why—what?" You looked at the boy in confusion.

"I like you. I know we've been best friends forever and I hope this doesn't make it weird but that's the truth. I kissed the girl to see if I could forget about you which in hindsight was really stupid. And you probably hate me."

You looked at him with glossy eyes and smiled.

"Yeah that was stupid if you thought you could get over me.” You laughed which died down when you turned to him looking more serious. “But I don’t hate you. It’s not like we were dating.”

“I was thinking...we could change that.” Pope tells you and you raise your eyebrows, a growing smile on your face.

“Hmm okay. Date. This friday. On the beach. You and me?" You asked and his eyes lit up feeling slightly surprised at the forwardness.

"Isn't it supposed to be me asking you out?" He asked teasingly.

"It's the twenty first century pope get with it."

"Of course. And I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Good.” He then jumped on top of you in all your blankets and you let out a shriek. “Oh my god, Pope are you trying to simultaneously give me a heart attack and break this thing?”

“Not really, but if it happens then oh well.” He feigned nonchalance for a second breaking into a grin as you slapped his arm.

“Watch it mister. Or I’ll reconsider that date.”

“Okay, I’m sorry Y/N.”

You sighed contently as he wrapped you up in his arms, both of you under the blankets and the stars. You could definitely get used to this.

Note • In honor of simping for Pope and jd day, year, decade and century i’ve written this cause he’s a cutie and I love him. This was kinda anticlimatic but 🤷‍♀️

[cavalierious-whim]

Felix's life is turned upside-down when Sylvain comes back after years away to hustle at his pool hall. #

Ever have an idea that's neat until it grows legs and just becomes 12k words worth of filth? Yeah, that. My google search history suffered intensely for this fic, but now I know that you can use cue stick oil as lube. You're welcome. Read here on A03 for better quality, and for wips, updates and more, follow me here on Twitter!

#

Felix runs a clean establishment which is why the red-headed idiot is the bane of his existence.

Every night, he’s there, running the action for a dime a pot. Making his victims even up before they start a new round. Regulars know that he’s hustling; he makes his targets put the money in the rack and then before they know it, he sweeps them in the last game, taking the pot for his own.

The newbies don’t stand a chance. Everyone else stays to watch the slaughter.

Felix waits before he steps in. He might run a tight ship but he can’t risk his regulars running out because he puts a stop to the usual entertainment. So, Felix watches from his corner spot on the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he scowls.

The idiot has cued up a tricky three-rail bank shot. His opponent looks confident that he’s going to win but everyone else knows better. Ingrid tries to warn the new guy; tugs on his arm to whisper into his ear. The man only smiles at her like she’s dumb, twirling a lock of her short hair around his finger.

When Ingrid smiles back, it isn’t kind.

The idiot takes his shot, the cue ball connecting with all three walls just as planned before sinking the eight like there’s a magnet in the pocket.

The newbie’s cigarette falls from his mouth, Ingrid stamps it out before it can do any lasting damage, and Felix makes his move before things get ugly.

“Sylvain,” he snaps, sliding in near the billiards table and leveling him with an unimpressed glare.

Sylvain’s already snatched up the money, thumbing through it and double-checking even though he knows it’s good. The bills never leave the table, not under his keen eye. Sylvain pauses dramatically and offers him a smarmy smile.

“Felix,” he greets in a low baritone.

“Are you done swindling my customers?”

“Hey, I’m a customer too.”

Felix scoffs. “You’re a leech and I can throw you right out.” The crowd around them is used to the theatrics of it all and begins to disperse, making themselves scarce. Ingrid hangs back for a moment and exchanges a knowing glance with Felix.

She isn’t much better than Sylvain at the end of the night, hustling her own targets in games of Cribbage before clearing the table, but she and Felix have an agreement. Felix and Sylvain don’t. Mostly because the latter is impossible to reason with.

“You won’t,” says Sylvain, back to counting his bills. “If I made this much, you easily made twice that.” He folds them before tucking them into his pocket.

Sylvain isn’t wrong. He might be a hustler, but he’s a damn good pool player, and people will spend all night in the hall just to peek at a game or two. Sylvain makes good change, but Felix takes a better cut off the booze and food he sells as a result.

It’s a win-win and it’s why he’s never actually kicked the man out despite his idle threats. Among other reasons, those far more complicated. Still, it’s the principle of the matter.

Sylvain orders a whiskey, neat, and Felix scowls. When Annie brings him a crystal tumbler, Sylvain gives her a wink. He’s barking up the wrong tree and knows it, but it’s harmless flirting that they throw between them on the regular. Annette finds it cute.

Felix finds it appalling.

Sylvain takes a sip and sets the glass aside, picking up a cue stick and rolling it between his palms. “So, it was a good night, I’m sure,” he says conversationally.

“I don’t talk shop with patrons, least of all you.”

“Here’s a reminder that I bring in money--”

“You could bring in Blaiddyd himself, and I still wouldn’t talk.”

Sylvain whistles lowly. “That’s a bit low,” he says. “Blaiddyd wouldn’t ever step foot into a place like this.”

Dimitri wouldn’t. Felix knows it, but it’s not because his pool hall is tucked into a dark corner of Fhirdiad. It’s because he and Dimitri aren’t on speaking terms and likely never will be again. The red-headed idiot doesn’t know that, can’t know that. He and Sylvain haven’t properly talked in years. Hustling in his hall is a fairly new development and it’s haunted Felix’s dreams for nearly a half-year.

Sylvain’s calling a blind-eyed bluff and Felix lets it ruffle him.

“Insufferable fool,” snaps Felix.

Sylvain shrugs as Felix rounds the table to clean it off, grabbing the wide boar-bristle brush. He sets about sweeping up the chalk marks from the felt because Sylvain’s shit at doing it.

Or, he doesn’t even bother, racking up another game without any consideration. Truly, the bane of Felix’s existence, a constant aggravation, from the way that he hustles patrons in his carefully cultivated pool hall, to that damned smirk that is more attractive than it should be.

Old habits die hard, especially when it comes to the decade-old flame still flickering in Felix’s pathetic heart.

When Sylvain leans against the table, Felix stands up, instantly high alert. When he sits his ass on the rail with his entire weight, Felix nearly has a coronary.

“Off!” he snaps, shaking the brush at Sylvain. “You’ll fuck up the balance.”

“I can fuck up a lot more than that, you know,” says Sylvain. “All you have to do is ask.”

Felix isn’t a mobster so he doesn’t murder the man. But he is a pool shark, so he does the next best thing. “You and me,” says Felix. “Later when the doors close. One-on-one, house rules.”

Sylvain regards Felix with one long, sweeping gaze across the entirety of his body, and Felix almost snarls back. But he doesn’t. Ingrid would be proud.

“I’m a front-runner,” says Sylvain, as though it makes a difference. Of course, he’s a front-runner, he’s likely the best player Felix has ever seen aside from Glenn. But Glenn’s dead and that doesn’t matter anymore.

“I’m no slouch,” says Felix.

Sylvain smiles a curling thing that spells danger. “Oh, I know. I’ve seen you shoot a rack or two.” Or two thousand. Sylvain looks at his whiskey glass, swirling it gently. “And the stakes? A dime? Two?”

“Rights to play here,” says Felix. “You lose and I get to kick you out once and for all.”

“And if I win, you never bother me about hustling again.” Felix opens his mouth and Sylvain cuts him off. “Ah-ah-ah, none of that. You and I both know that I bring in more business than this dusty old place would see without me.”

Felix hates that he’s right and he hates that he doesn’t have the guts to refute it. He swipes the brush over the table angrily. “Fine, I’ll take your damned deal.”

They don’t shake on it, but Sylvain does tip his glass in a salute. Good enough for Felix since the faith of Sylvain’s word doesn’t mean shit.

#

So the thing is, they’ve actually known each other since they were children. Ingrid and Dimitri as well; they’d grown up together during the tail-end of Prohibition, spending their afternoons with Glenn shooting pool on tilted tables with badly balanced cue sticks.

Felix was good, but Sylvain was the prodigy when it came to shooting racks, an absolute monster that no one wanted to challenge. Back then, he didn’t hustle, he just enjoyed the sport. And Felix did too, their days spent leaning over chalk-dusted felt and hand-me-down sticks.

Then Glenn died, Sylvain went pro and Felix turned bitter and angry. And everything between them stretched wide and thin, colored by wanton attraction and the fear of fucking it up.

Dimitri bought this place to relive fond memories. Abandoned it when he lost his mind for fancier clientele. Felix, unable to forget his youth no matter how he tried, stepped in to keep it from shutting down entirely.

No longer in its prime, the place struggled for years, Felix barely paying the bills and keeping it afloat.

Until Sylvain walked back in one day. It’d been five years without a word, and nearly a decade of sore, unbidden feelings. Felix wanted nothing to do with him. Didn’t want to relive those memories.

One problem, though: Sylvain can’t take a fucking hint. Felix has told him to his face that he’s unwelcome and Sylvain just shoots him that signature smirk of his, the one that’s so impossible to ignore, and pretends that nothing was ever said.

Felix never kicks him out because he lacks any resolve, something that haunts his dreams. It makes Ingrid laugh.

“So, house rules,” says Sylvain, sliding up next to him with a smooth swagger that Felix makes a point of ignoring.

“Eight-ball,” starts Felix, but Sylvain tuts.

“Where’s the fun in that? That’s a family game.” Felix doesn’t like the glint in Sylvain’s eye as he leans against the table rail. “Nine-ball. Best three out of five.”

“Nine-ball’s a tournament game,” says Felix. “I don’t do tournaments.”

“You could,” says Sylvain with a shrug. He’s right; Felix can. But he won’t.

“You know that I don’t compete.”

“Anymore,” says Sylvain, a quiet correction that turns Felix’s blood red-hot. Sylvain must see it because he raises his hands in deference. “Not the point, not the point. I’m just saying. We’re playing for a high pot so might as well make the game match.”

Felix doesn’t think that playing for his pool hall is a high pot but there isn’t a point in arguing-- Sylvain’s been bit by a competitive bug and it’s too late to stop it.

“Fine, nine-ball,” says Felix. He crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at Sylvain. “Casual rules, though. Ball-in-hand--”

“Ugh.” Sylvain sounds positively offended and Felix smirks.

“And none of that fancy shit you like to pull.”

“Felix, you wound me.”

Felix levels him with an unimpressed look. “I don’t have time for it,” he says. Then he kicks Sylvain’s shin. “And off the fucking table. I won’t tell you again.”

Sylvain hops off but doesn’t apologize. “I’ll rack--”

“I’ll do it,” cuts in Felix, reaching for the triangle rack instead of the one used for nine-ball. “I don’t trust you further than I can throw you.”

Sylvain pauses, frowning the slightest bit, a tiny little crack in his carefully maintained facade. Felix nearly pauses-- nearly. Sylvain isn’t the kind to wear his heart on his sleeve. He only shows what he wants other people to see. But this here, it doesn’t seem intentional. He’s already off his game, distracted by something.

“I only meant you setting up the game,” says Felix.

“I’ve no qualms about you racking, but you know it means that I get to break.”

A calculated decision that Felix has already considered. Felix isn’t bad at getting a good spread, but Sylvain’s better at it. It’s a risky move to give him the first shot since he’ll likely sink one at the get-go, but it’s a risk Felix is willing to take.

Sylvain pulls a cue from his bag and twists it together, carefully wiping it down with a soft little cloth. Felix watches while he arranges the balls, nine in the middle. He presses his fingers against the bottom of the diamond, pushing them tight into the corner of the triangle. Not a traditional method, but Felix can get a better grip if the rack isn’t in the way of his fingers. Sylvain hasn’t noticed his stare.

Instead, he’s too busy inspecting the tip of the cue that he uses for breaking before chalking it up.

Once the balls are racked, Felix steps off to the side, showing off the table. “All yours.”

Sylvain offers him a smile, something small and genuine and for a second it’s like they’ve gone back in time. All that unwanted shit he’s tried to forget just wells right up from the depths of his heart. Felix pretends that they aren’t friends, that they were never close, that he hates Sylvain quite severely.

It isn’t true. When Sylvain left they’d been sitting awkwardly, hanging strangely in their friendship. Trying to figure out what they were together. For Felix, it’s never been something as simple as just friends.

And it never was for Sylvain either, which is why everything’s so fucked up between the two of them. Sylvain, despite whatever he feels, isn’t the type to settle down. And neither is Felix. But they’d thought about doing it, together.

Feelings can’t save shitty relationships, though, no matter how strong they are. They’re better off like this, frenemies that constantly dog each other.

Sylvain looks slick as he runs a hand through his wild auburn hair. The light above the pool table is dim and casts a shitty glow, but Sylvain looks alive as he takes his place at the south end of the table. He’s focused when he leans over, break cue held loosely in his hand. He lines up his shot, utterly focused on the task at hand, and then he brings the cue back before letting it loose.

There’s a crack as the cue ball flies across the table. The diamond scatters and balls bounce off the rails. He doesn’t sink one on the first shot which is an immediate red flag.

“You missed,” says Felix. “You did that on purpose.”

Sylvain shrugs, unconcerned as he swaps out his break cue for his regular. He chalks it up. “There isn’t any fun in running the table on the first go.”

Felix scowls. “You’re playing for keeps.”

“It’s best three out of five,” says Sylvain. “Might as well make it worth it.”

He’s a hustler through and through. Sylvain makes his bread and butter swindling poor sots out of their coin, pushing and pulling pots as he sees fit. Ingrid’s no better, but she’s already at a disadvantage. No one takes her seriously because she’s a woman, and if her goal is to take men down a notch, Felix isn’t going to be the one to tell her no.

Sylvain, however, doesn’t do it for the money, he does it for the thrill. He’s always been like that, living by the seat of his pants because it’s the only way that he feels things. Like right now. It’s the only reason he even bargained the game to begin with.

Felix only wanted a go at it, a friendly game between somewhat enemies. Sylvain was the one that put stakes on the table.

The cue that Felix uses is old and a little battered, but it’s straight and it’s got a decent weight to it. Nothing fancy, but he doesn’t need fancy, he only needs functional.

The spread on the table is good. The one-ball sits at the bottom left and the nine is at the right side pocket. The rest have enough space to get in a good table run if he plays his angles right. Felix leans over the corner of the table, lining up his shot.

Sylvain watches as Felix thinks it through. Nervousness prickles down Felix’s spine. He might play a game or two alone after the doors shut, but he’s admittedly, out of practice. Felix already knows if he mucks this shot up, Sylvain will spend the rest of the night poking fun at him.

The cue stick strikes true and Felix sinks the one-ball in the opposite side pocket. So far so good. The two is near a north corner, an easy shot. But the three is along a rail, leaving behind a tricky follow-up lie. Felix sighs and sinks the two, the cue ball kicking back to the left.

Not far enough, leaving him in a precarious position.

Sylvain whistles low and says, “Tricky, tricky. Not where I’d want to sit.”

“Shut up,” says Felix, scowling. He chalks up his cue, thinking about his next shot.

Sylvain shrugs, sipping at his drink. “I’m just saying. You’ve always been shit at putting spin on the ball.” Sylvain’s right. Felix never did practice his English much.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve played a game,” says Felix. Not since before Sylvain fucked off. He’s watched him, of course, but Felix hasn’t shot a rack around Sylvain since he came back. “Plenty of time to pick up some skill.”

“It wasn’t ever about skill, you just sucked at it even with how much you practiced.”

Felix would spend hours hitting shot after shot. He’d set up complicated lies and work out the math. He’s good with angles, and he’s decent at putting spin on the ball but it’s definitely his weak spot.

Felix doesn’t answer and Sylvain crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not trying to be rude--”

“Zip it,” cuts in Felix, shushing him. “I’m thinking.”

Sylvain’s quiet for exactly ten seconds before he says, “Lower half, middle of the ball. Put some meat behind it and it should stop dead.”

Felix ignores him on principle, hitting slightly to the right instead. The cue ball connects with the three, then banks to the side, flubbing the shot entirely.

Sylvain snickers from behind his hand, amused.

Felix knew it was a bad shot the moment his arm moved. He’s unsure why he’s so obstinate when it comes to taking Sylvain’s advice on a go. But then he sees the insufferable smirk plastered across Sylvain’s face.

Scratch that, he knows exactly why: Felix refuses to give in to his hustling.

“Should have just listened to me,” says Sylvain, getting up from the barstool and chalking up his cue.

“I’d rather sell out,” says Felix. And he would. He’d sooner leave him a good shot, sitting pretty on the table than give him any sort of satisfaction.

“Thought we were playing for keeps,” says Sylvain, repeating what Felix snarked earlier. “At least give me some satisfaction.” He leans over the table, marking up a shot at the three. He pulls the cue back once, twice, testing the wait of his aim.

“The only satisfaction you want is someone stroking your big, fat ego.”

Sylvain stops right in the middle of his shot, head cocking to the side as he shoots Felix a dangerous look. “Oh trust me, there’s something else I’d rather you stroke.”

Felix turns red in anger, hissing at the innuendo. Here it is, that unspoken thing that’s loomed between them for years. Sylvain’s always been overtly flirty with it, low whispers as he murmurs dark and dirty words into his ears. Felix refuses to be just another notch in his belt.

And it’s hard, so unbearably hard because the worst part is that Felix wouldn’t say no. Ingrid tells him that it’s stupid to hold off, that he should just get it over with and satisfy his fucking curiosity.

Felix refuses.

Sylvain bursts into laughter, shaking his head. “Man, you should’ve seen your face, Felix,” he says, setting up his shot again. He falls silent as he baits the cue ball, his practice strokes smooth like buttered perfection. Then, he takes the shot and sinks in the three, lining up for a perfect hit to the four.

And the five, and then the six. Sylvain cleans the table with little-to-no effort, calling his shots because he knows it pisses Felix off.

“Eight off the seven,” says Sylvain, grinning widely as he surveys the table. “But I’m going to bank it off this rail and nail the corner pocket instead.”

It’s an absurd trick shot and Felix tells him as such. “You’re wasting time with these superfluous tricks.”

“Sit back,” says Sylvain. “Relax. Shit Felix, this is supposed to be fun.”

Felix knew that it wasn’t going to be fun the moment he proposed it. He knew he’d be staring at Sylvain’s long and lean form, bent over the table as he figures out math and angles. Sylvain’s a smart guy, despite what people think. It’s one of the few times that the look on his face is truly genuine.

He’s more handsome now than ever before, something straight from Felix’s most vivid wet dreams. He has a love-hate relationship with those.

“Nothing about this is fun,” says Felix finally. “It’s infuriating.”

Sylvain bites the inside of his cheek in a huff, a nervous tic that he’s never been able to get rid of. “You’re the one making it so,” he says smoothly. “As I said, just relax. We’re here to play a game.”

“That I need to win if I want you good and gone.”

Sylvain pauses at that, still hanging over the table as he looks at Felix. “Is that really what you want Felix?” For once in his damn life, he sounds serious, not his usually mocking tone.

Felix doesn’t warrant the question with an answer. Instead, he just crosses his arms over his chest as he lurks in the corner near his pool cue.

Eventually, Sylvain gets tired of waiting. “Suit yourself,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Felix to hear. He lines up his ridiculous shot and takes a few practice sweeps. The moment he pulls back, Felix speaks.

“Of course I want you to piss off.”

Sylvain fucks up the shot, nearly miscuing. The cue ball lurches to the side, misses the seven entirely, and nearly sinks in the nine-ball instead. That’d be a game lost, one to Felix’s favor, which is greatly amusing.

To his credit, Sylvain doesn’t look angry, despite his swear. He looks dejected. And really, what does he expect? That he’d come back here to find everything normal? Back to the way it was? Felix is too tired for ifs, ands, and buts. He moved on years ago.

Or so Felix pretends. It’s his most practiced lie, second nature at this point.

The look, though, that shadow of sadness that falls across Sylvain’s face is gone nearly as soon as it appears. He schools it into a competitive grin instead, nodding to the table. “Well, here’s your chance,” says Sylvain, leaning onto his stool, cue resting against his thigh. “Knock me out of the game.”

Felix surveys the table. The ending lie of Sylvain’s kicked shot leaves Felix in a decent position. Just enough to smack the seven-ball in and clear the table if he can keep his mind empty. Felix looks at Sylvain again who stares right back. Easier said than done.

He sets up his shot, pulling back the cue a few times. He sinks the seven easily and with the left spin he put on the cue ball, it rolls over to the eight. The side pocket’s an easy target that leaves only the nine left.

“Think it through,” says Sylvain.

“Shut up.”

“Look, I’m just saying. The easiest shots are always the worst, especially when it’s the nine.”

True. Felix can hit a stellar shot and still fuck it up-- there are a thousand ways to lose a game of pool, almost all of them your fault. Felix knows that he should take a deep breath, sit back and think about angles and spin.

But he won’t because he’s too fucking impatient, the absolute worst quality he has.

“Nine-ball, corner pocket,” says Felix, gesturing with his cue. He forces himself to try and take his time, at least, breathing in deeply before letting it loose.

He fucks the shot up royally. Taps it a little too hard and overshoots, the cue ball sinking in right after the nine. A scratch, and the worst kind-- entirely self-inflicted because he’s far too distracted to keep his head in the game.

Felix blames it on Sylvain. Doesn’t matter what part of him-- that handsome, devilish smile of his; the way that he twirls his cue around nonchalantly; the gentle grasp he has around his crystal whiskey tumbler; the ease as he sinks in ball after ball.

It’s all the same shit as far as Felix is concerned.

“Man, you dogged it,” says Sylvain, a badly concealed smirk set across his face.

“You’re taking way too much pleasure in it.” Felix is beyond annoyed.

Sylvain’s expression changes as he raises an eyebrow. “Felix, if I wanted to take pleasure from something, it certainly wouldn’t be you losing.”

“Is that so?”

Sylvain doesn’t answer, he only stares him down, the depth of his face smoldering. And Felix stares back, frozen in place as he worries his lip between his teeth. At least after the game, he thinks. The pool hall deserves that much.

The tension between them is so thick you could cut it; the kind of joke that Ingrid would happily make were she watching their sorry asses dance around each other. Ridiculous, Felix thinks. Utterly ridiculous, how the two of them still act like teenagers who can’t keep it in their pants.

“You nearly had it,” says Sylvain finally, trying to diffuse the tightness in the air. “Next time I can show you--”

“I don’t need your pity,” says Felix suddenly.

Sylvain blinks. “An honest offer,” he says. “No pity involved.”

Felix knows there’s a catch, though. There has to be. When it comes to Sylvain, there’s always an ulterior motive.

They fall silent again for a moment that stretches a little bit too long. Staring at each other, neither willing to make the first move.

It’s Sylvain that finally does. “Rack them,” he says, pulling the balls from the pockets on his end of the table.

Felix says nothing as he sets the next rack, the nine-ball right in the center. He rolls them back and forth, pressing his fingers in between the wood and resin, ensuring a tight diamond.

“Three out of five, one to my name,” says Sylvain as he swipes some of his drink before cueing up his for his break.

It’s effortless as always, the crack of his shot deafening in the awkward quiet. He sinks two balls on the first go, the three, and the seven. Sylvain isn’t playing around this time. Felix knows he isn’t angry. He’s trying to distract himself.

And Sylvain does that by doing what he does best-- sharking pool.

He continues to clean the table in relative silence, intensely focused on the game. He gets like this when he’s thinking about things. Goes weirdly quiet as he formulates what he’s going to say next. Most think he’s inherently suave, an instinctual casanova, but that isn’t it at all.

Sylvain’s the best pretender around, carefully cultivating how others perceive him. Everything he says and does is by design.

Especially when it comes to Felix. It’s a well-practiced game to Sylvain when it comes to whatever the fuck their relationship is. Felix maintains there isn’t one, that there wasn’t ever. But it’s hard to hold to that when Sylvain’s two feet away in the pool hall, hustling right next to him every night. And Felix can’t stop looking, hasn’t ever been able to stop.

Even now.

“It’s hot in here,” says Sylvain, hooking a finger into the collar of his shirt, pulling at it slightly. It is, and a little humid too. That’s what the weather does this far south, as far away from Fhirdiad as you can get.

“You’re the one insisting on being fully clothed,” says Felix.

Sylvain’s usual fare of dress is high-class. Crisply ironed button-downs paired with a well-tailored vest. Sometimes he wears his pocket watch, sometimes it’s a pocket square. He always rolls up his sleeves though, showing off well-defined forearms. Paired with the sleeve garters, everyone can’t help but stare.

Felix included.

“Gotta look the part,” says Sylvain with a tawdry wink. “You know that.”

“You already do,” Felix huffs, “With all the money you spend on those ridiculous brand-name labels.” Because it’s always been the best of the best for Sylvain.

Sylvain responds by reaching up and pulling his tie loose, unfastening the top few buttons before pressing the collar open, showing off his collarbone. And the sheen of sweat that glistens in the shitty glow of the light hanging above the table. Felix finally looks away, settling his gaze onto the wall.

“Nine off the eight,” says Sylvain. “Corner pocket.” He doesn’t point to the corner pocket that Felix would aim for.

Sylvain leans against the table, ass on the railing, the cue behind him. Shooting backward because he’s a gluttonous prick who can’t help but show off.

“Wrong corner pocket, you dick,” says Felix, obstinate as always. Mostly because he can’t stop staring at Sylvain’s ass when he should be watching the game. Between that and Sylvain’s gleaming collarbone on display, Felix is a goner.

Sylvain’s aim is impeccable, so naturally, he sinks the nine, winning the second game. “Rack ‘em,” he says with a smirk, jumping off the table.

Felix snarls before doing as he’s asked. Sylvain keeps smirking, running a hand through his unruly hair, stretching out his neck just so. Because he knows; he’s seen Felix looking and he’s hamming it up.

“Insufferable git,” says Felix, dropping the balls into the triangle-shaped rack and shuffling them around.

“You’re the one who keeps staring.” Felix pauses, looking back at Sylvain. He knows a challenge when he hears one and Sylvain’s looking at him like he’s ready to eat him right up.

“Only because you’re utterly ridiculous,” says Felix finally. “Pompous and loud, cheating my good patrons out of their money. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

Sylvain hums at that, sipping at his whiskey. “Well, if someone’s going to, I prefer it be you.”

Felix nearly throws the rack at him but he doesn’t, hanging it neatly where it belongs under the table instead. Ingrid would be proud of his remarkable restraint. “Your break,” says Felix, turning away.

Sylvain’s already chalking up his cue. Figuring out exactly how he wants to set up his final run. “One more, my favor,” he says. “Better step up your game.”

Felix intends to, tired of this song and dance, of playing cat-and-mouse. They’ve chased after each other for years. It’s time to put an end to it. As Sylvain preps his shot, Felix switches cue sticks, pulling a second one from his bag. Pitch black with mother of pearl accents, but a tad beat up and not well-polished.

When Sylvain turns to him, he goes stock still like he’s frozen in time. Watches as Felix screws it together, brows knitted as recognition sets in.

“You kept that old thing?” asks Sylvain, quietly.

“It shoots straight. Might as well.”

Sylvain’s surprised because he gave the cue stick to Felix. Spent nearly three month’s loose change when they were young and desperately poor. Probably thought Felix chucked it the moment that he fucked off. Felix nearly did, and nearly has repeatedly over the years. Never quite gets there.

There’s one thing that Felix is really, really bad at: actually getting rid of Sylvain once and for all. It’s a complicated thing, full of complicated feelings. For better and worse. Felix and Sylvain were very nearly something all those years ago. Shared a few kisses in dark corners, wandering hands here and there.

Childhood friends to nearly-lovers, then rivals to whatever the fuck they are now.

Felix has caught Sylvain off guard, judging by his unsure expression. And for once, Felix doesn’t know what he’s thinking, can’t really tell. Sylvain just looks at him with this entirely unreadable expression.

“What?” asks Felix, a little more bite to his tone than he wants.

Sylvain doesn’t immediately answer, just rubs at his chin with his fingers. Thinking. But then he smirks, shooting Felix a rather dirty grin, and just like that everything’s back to normal again,  brushed away like chalk from the table felt.

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, swiping the cue ball from Felix’s hand and their fingers brush, Sylvain lingering. Felix is the one to pull away.

But, he can’t look away when Sylvain sets up his break, or the long lines of his frame as he leans over the table and tests the slide of his cue. Draped over the felt like he belongs here, in this dingy pool hall. Right before Felix, just like the days of old.

Felix sighs. He’s tired of longing for the past.

Sylvain’s cue makes great contact and the break spreads well. He sinks the two and four-ball and leaves a good lie for the one. Sinks that, and then the two. Leaves the three, and the five onward. Felix bites at his thumb nervously because Sylvain’s likely about to run the entire table with little effort.

He’s fucked this up.

Sylvain spares a glance at him and pauses, biting at his lip. Then he lines up his shot for the three. Should be an easy shot into the side pocket, incredibly straightforward. Until he fucks it up.  Intentionally.

“Shit,” murmurs Sylvain, “Jawed the tit.” Bounced right off the corner edge of the pocket.

Felix’s eyes narrow. Unlike before, this time it doesn’t seem like he’s giving him a chance to catch up or drag the game out. He’s left Felix with a pretty terrible lie. Whatever Sylvain’s plan is, it’s something else entirely.

Something that Felix isn’t sure he wants part of.

Which is why he doesn’t call it out. Instead, they swap sides, slowly rounding the table. Felix has been left with a shitty option for the three-ball, but still doable. He lines it up and calls his shot, takes a deep breath, and then shoots.

Sylvain watches from the stool on the opposite side, strangely quiet. The cue ball hits one rail, then the second, then connects with the three-ball, sinking it into the left corner. Felix lets out a sigh of relief and Sylvain a low whistle.

Felix makes quick work of the five and six-ball, leaving the seven in a good spot on the side pocket. He freezes, hesitating. The last time he had a shot like this, he fucked it up, leaving the table open for Sylvain to take the win.

And Felix knows that Sylvain won’t risk losing because he isn’t playing to keep hustling, he’s playing to keep Felix at his side. Even if they aren’t anything.

Anymore, Felix’s brain unhappily supplies.

“Think about it,” says Sylvain, just like before.

“I am,” says Felix irately.

“If you want, I can show you a trick. Help you sink shots like that with no issue.”

“I’d win.” It isn’t a guarantee, of course, but a high chance. The spread on the table is in Felix’s favor if he sinks this shot.

Sylvain shrugs and stands. “Fine by me,” he says. Sylvain walks around the table, running his hand along the wooden rail smoothly. Felix tracks the movement. Then Sylvain’s behind him, leaning close.

“Alright then,” he says right next to his ear. “Mind if I guide you?”

Felix nods minutely, words stuck in his throat because he lacks any conviction to say no. Sylvain reaches around him and takes the cue, carefully arranging Felix’s arms. “Loose form,” he says. “Lift your elbow just a bit, yeah, like that.”

Sylvain’s hand isn’t just warm, it practically burns through the sleeve of Felix’s shirt. “From this angle, you want the cue ball to kick left, so you’ve got to put your spin here.” Sylvain slots himself even closer, his pelvis flush with Felix’s ass. One hand on his waist, holding him there gently as he reaches even further to point to the cue ball.

The only thing that Felix can focus on Sylvain’s crotch and-- “Are you seriously hard right now?”

Sylvain freezes but he doesn’t move. “Can you blame me?” he asks simply. Like there’s nothing to it, like it’s completely normal. He doesn’t make any further movements to manhandle Felix, he just stands there nonchalantly as Felix’s gut twists at the thought of it.

Definitely not how this game is supposed to go.

“Yes,” says Felix, “I can absolutely blame you.”

A pause. Sylvain’s mouth is very close to his cheek, Felix can feel the gentle puffing of his breath against it. “Do you want me to move?” asks Sylvain, sincerely.

“No.” Felix’s answer is barely above a whisper and comes far too quickly. Sylvain’s breath hitches slightly as he shifts his stance just barely, his hardness more evident than ever before. “But at least help me finish the shot.”

“Felix--”

“You never give away your tricks,” cuts in Felix. “I’m not letting this opportunity go.”

Sylvain laughs mirthlessly but complies, guiding Felix’s cue to the proper position. “Tap it here, on the right. Not too hard, just enough to kiss it.” Felix swallows, trying not to think of the insinuating verbiage. He doesn’t want to kiss the ball, he wants to kiss Sylvain instead.

Sylvain pulls back but doesn’t move away entirely, still holding onto his waist. Felix sinks the shot and the cue ball kicks back just as it should.

Time slows, the both of them hesitating. Sylvain makes the first move. He doesn’t give Felix the chance to lean into another shot, turning him around and pressing him against the edge of the pool table.

Felix lets him, but says-- very weakly-- “We’ve got a game to finish.” He still has a cue in one hand as the other reaches up and latches onto the tie hanging loosely around Sylvain’s neck, tugging at it slightly. Teasingly, if he were the sort to tease.

Sylvain certainly takes it that way, reaching up to grip Felix’s chin lightly. “The only game I was playing wasn’t pool,” he says, thinking he’s smooth.

“I’m aware,” says Felix. “Noticed it the moment that you undid your shirt. How annoying.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

It certainly didn’t help, thinks Felix, but he’d been gone long before that. Before this night, weeks and months ago. He was gone the night Sylvain walked right back into his life.

“I’m tired of pretending,” says Felix. “Of ignoring it.” Because he is. Tired of being the last to leave work because he knows he’ll go home with Sylvain if he isn’t. Of watching from afar, itching to touch but resigning himself to stay on the other side of the room. Of Ingrid’s eye-rolling and suggestive hand gestures. It’s exhausting.

“So don’t,” says Sylvain.

Felix pulls him down and Sylvain meets his mouth eagerly. Felix is risking the balance of the pool table for this, leaning onto it fully as Sylvain presses in close, slipping a thigh between Felix’s legs.

Kissing Sylvain is like riding a bike; Felix remembers exactly how to do it. What Sylvain likes and the amount of pressure. The way their mouths slot together like it’s meant to be. Sylvain moans against his mouth, just a soft breathy sound like he can’t believe this is happening.

Maybe he can’t. Felix isn’t the type to reciprocate and he’s been fighting this for months. Not that Sylvain hasn’t tried his best to unruffle him, to get him to fall back into the ease of it.

Felix finally gives in, tumbling down that darkly lit corridor to chase that tell-tale fire that stokes slowly in his gut.

Sylvain’s lips are soft against his and he holds him too tenderly. Felix responds by yanking at the tie again and nipping at his mouth. Sylvain opens it in surprise and Felix’s tongue finds his, seeking out that wet warmth and comfort.

The sound that Sylvain makes is enough to fill Felix’s cock halfway.

They part to breathe and Felix knows he looks a mess. Flushed and breathing heavily in the hot and humid pool hall. Half-sprawled across one of his carefully balanced tables. He can’t find much care in it, his brain muddled by the sharp press of Sylvain’s body against his own.

“Shit, Felix.” Sylvain runs a thumb across the high arch of Felix’s cheekbone. Just looking at him as it slides across the seam of his mouth. Felix nips at the digit in response.

Their next kiss is a little slower, driven by Sylvain’s persistence to take his time. Felix is impatient but lets him lead, relishing in the softness of his lips. Sylvain slides a hand down his front and pulls his shirt from his pants. His fingers are cold against Felix’s skin despite the heat of the room, splaying smoothly across the planes of his stomach.

But he hesitates, nails just barely scratching at the top of Felix’s waistband.

“Touch me, you imbecile,” says Felix, demanding and needy, kicking his hips closer to drive home his point.

“Right,” says Sylvain against Felix’s lips. “Yes, okay.” He sounds even needier, something that Felix takes great pride in. Sylvain’s stopped kissing him, nose pressed into the nape of Felix’s neck instead, resting there. No doubt savoring the moment or whatever other romantic bullshit that Sylvain thinks when lost in the moment.

Felix’s only complaint is that he isn’t moving fast enough. “Sylvain,” he warns, “I’m this close to shoving you off and taking care of myself in the office.” Not his favorite option and not nearly as fun.

Sylvain pulls back, one hand gripping Felix’s chin. “You wouldn’t,” he says.

“Try me,” says Felix defiantly. Because he definitely would and Sylvain knows it.

And the way that Sylvain looks at him in response, how his gaze smolders as he smirks knowingly, makes Felix want to drown in the heat of it.

Sylvain surprises him by dropping to his knees against the hard ground, grasping Felix by the hips. Nuzzles at Felix’s crotch, where he tents his trousers. Felix lets out a soft moan, fingers finding Sylvain’s hair, scratching at his scalp.

They’d shared kisses in the past and rutted against each other fully clothed. Fevered hands grabbing at each other over rough cotton in dark corners as they roughly jerked off.

Sylvain’s hand is soft as he drags it over the front of Felix’s trousers, the touch somehow still familiar. Then he grips a little firmer, cupping him properly.

“Sylvain--”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Sylvain, fingers already pulling at his zipper instead. “Impatient as always. Just like old times.” Even with Felix egging him on, Sylvain is unbearably slow when it comes to undressing him. “I’m savoring it,” he says when Felix grunts in frustration. “You only get one first time with another.”

Felix can’t dispute that. Still. Felix moves, shimmying his trousers past his ass, letting them drop to the ground.

“That’s one way to do it, I suppose,” says Sylvain with a chuckle. Then Felix’s briefs quickly follow and he stops laughing. Sylvain’s mouth falls open as he stares, hands gripping Felix’s thighs tightly. “Felix,” he croaks, looking at him like he’s a man starving, fingers itching to touch. And do more.

Felix isn’t an angel. There’ve been others. But this is Sylvain, and Felix has never been like this with him, never given him that much.

He would’ve but it never panned out.

Sylvain leans in close, pressing a kiss at the juncture where Felix’s groin meets his thigh. Then to the base of Felix’s cock, his lips lingering there. Felix takes a deep breath, his eyes slipping closed at the sensation.

Then Sylvain swallows him down, his mouth hot and wet around his length.

“Fuck,” says Felix, fingers tightening their grip on Sylvain’s hair. “Fuck.”

Sylvain moans around him as he bobs up and down his cock, tongue flat along the underside of him. Then on the upstroke, Sylvain’s tongue curls around the tip and his hand finds the part of Felix’s cock that isn’t buried in his mouth.

Felix wasn’t expecting this and he tells him as such. “You’re the kind that takes what he wants,” says Felix in a light-hearted jab. Even if this had gone another way, he wouldn’t have complained.

Sylvain pulls off to retort. “Oh, darling,” he says, pressing a sweet little kiss to the crown of his cock, “I never do anything that I don’t want to. And this? I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

“Insufferable bastard,” says Felix, but the insult dissolves into a blissed-out moan when Sylvain’s mouth finds him again, this time sucking around him properly. Felix can’t get enough of it, the tight and wet heat that engulfs his cock. The way that Sylvain works him like he’s trained his entire life for this.

Felix likes to think he has.

Sylvain’s hand moves to cup his balls, rolling them softly in the palm of his hand, and Felix nearly pulls Sylvain’s hair right from his head. He can feel the way that he smiles around his cock, the way that his laugh rumbles up from his throat. How it caresses his dick.

Felix shoves Sylvain’s face off none-too gently, his chest heaving as he tries his best not to come right then.

“Oh,” says Sylvain in surprise. Then his face melts into something amused. “Oh--”

“Shut it,” cuts in Felix. “I’m losing my patience and I didn’t want to finish in your mouth.”

“But what if I wanted you to?”

Felix blinks, the words barely registering. “What?”

“What if I wanted you to come in my mouth?” Sylvain looks up at him, eyes half-lidded and hazy with want. “What if I wanted to swallow it down?” It’s sinful, the earnest way that he says it. The way that Sylvain still cups his balls in one hand and drags lazy circles across Felix’s thigh with the other. Eagerly waiting.

Felix swallows thickly, thinking about the debauched image that fills his mind. Then he guides Sylvain back to his cock, his hands on either side of his face, thumbing at his cheekbones. Sylvain happily accepts it, tongue out and waiting before slotting his mouth around Felix’s length once more.

And he keeps going until the tip of Felix’s cock hits the back of his throat, and Sylvain’s nose is near the coarse hair at his pubic bone.

Felix is going to die, he’s pretty sure of it. Not a bad way to go, all things considered. One hand moves to grab at Sylvain’s hair tightly, the other still cupping his jaw. Sylvain’s efficient in the way that he moves, sliding up and down, tonguing expertly around him. The pressure as he sucks and laps at his cock.

“I’m--” Felix tries to warn that he won’t last much longer. “Sylvain, I’m--”

Sylvain doubles his efforts, letting go of his balls to press his fingers a little further back. Against the smooth skin there, massaging at it gently. Felix curses and spills into his mouth, doing his best to not buck against him. The tightly coiled tension has snapped and Felix does his best to come down from the high of it, but he’s nothing but a puddled mess, leaning back against the pool table. His legs shake like jelly.

When Sylvain pulls off him, he looks triumphant, swallowing Felix’s spend like it’s an expensive delicacy. Which is almost worse, the fucked-out look of it. Seeing Sylvain like this, on his knees before him, lips swollen and face ruddy in the aftermath of spectacularly sucking him off.

It’s almost enough to get Felix going again.

Felix tugs at Sylvain’s tie and he stands, leaning over him again, slotted between Felix’s open legs. Felix doesn’t care where his mouth’s been, he pulls Sylvain in for a kiss. Tastes himself as Sylvain deepens it, licking into Felix’s mouth.

Sylvain’s cock is fully hard and digging into his thigh.

“You’re wearing too much,” says Felix when he breaks the kiss.

“Going to return the favor?” asks Sylvain, his hands braced against the table rails on either side of Felix.

“No,” says Felix. “Not this time. You took too long, indulging as you did.”

“You weren’t complaining about it.”

“And I won’t.” Felix knows he’s being cheeky but Sylvain loves it, the way that he teases. Felix presses a hand to the open collar of his shirt where it’s undone, fingering Sylvain’s collarbone there.

“Irritating,” he continues. “How good you look when you show off your skin.”

“Only for you, babe,” says Sylvain.

Felix scoffs. “That, I doubt.”

Sylvain’s expression changes, softening. “No, really,” he says. “Not in a long time.” It isn’t a lie; judging by the subtle change in his demeanor, Sylvain’s sharing a rare moment of truth.

Felix stares at him for a long moment, and Sylvain stares right back. Then, Felix’s hand shifts down to Sylvain’s vest. “So, no one else has peeled this off you in a while, then.” He toys casually with a button.

“That’d be right.”

“That must’ve been annoying.” Felix undoes one button and then the rest, and Sylvain shucks the vest off faster than Felix can finish his sentence. “Knowing you.”

“I managed,” says Sylvain.

Felix hums as his hand curls into the front of Sylvain’s shirt, pulling him closer. “Must’ve put your hand through the wringer,” taunts Felix. He unbuttons the rest, pulling it from Sylvain’s trousers. Sylvain’s always looked good, but he’s downright unfair now with his trim waist and just-enough-muscle.

“A downright nightmare,” says Sylvain with a chuckle. “Damn near sprained the thing.” Then he leans close, his mouth near Felix’s ear as he whispers, “Last few months especially, with all the thinking I’ve done about you.”

Those are the words that do him in. Felix’s hands drop to Sylvain’s waist, pulling at his trouser band. His hands are steadier than expected he when unzips them. Not so much when he slips his hand in, caressing Sylvain’s cock through his underwear.

The moan Felix gets in response can set him on fire.

“You’re cruel,” says Sylvain through a punched breath.

“Not as much as you with how slow you’re being. Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Sylvain has two modes. The first is the saccharine one where he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his voice smooth as silk. The kind that makes women swoon at romantic, chivalrous ideas, toes curling in their shoes.

This is the second; the searing hot one where his smile is a devilish smirk, and everything that he whispers against Felix’s ear is dirty and salacious. “Is that what you want?” asks Sylvain, before pressing a kiss just below Felix’s chin. “Goddess knows it’s what I want, you underneath me all hot and bothered.”

Sylvain’s intoxicating in the way that he leans close to him, and the weight of his hard cock pressed against Felix’s thigh.

“You’re all talk,” says Felix, rubbing a thumb across the front of Sylvain’s briefs, relishing in the wet dampness there. The way that his cock tents against the soft cotton there, twitching slightly under Felix’s grasp.

Were he more a patient man, he’d suck Sylvain off. But Felix isn’t, so he’ll save it for another time.

“You wound me, Felix,” says Sylvain, eyes shutting as he bites at his lip.

“Certainly no action,” says Felix, fingers tugging at the waistband of his briefs, letting it snap back into place.

Sylvain groans. “Have you forgotten so quickly? How I was on my knees before you just moments ago?”

Felix’s hands still as he thinks about it. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget such a sight,” he says.

And he won’t. It’ll haunt his dreams for decades to come. Even now, Sylvain looks so delectable; his face flushed, his shirt is open in the front and showing off his pecs, and his sleeves rolled up to the arm garters, revealing perfectly toned forearms.

Felix said it before, how irritating it is; how he can’t help but stare, to drink up and memorize it so he’ll never forget. Maybe he won’t have to. Maybe this’ll be the start of something new and a little more permanent. He won’t hold his breath.

Sylvain’s unpredictable at best and despite his earlier promise that there hasn’t been anyone else, for years, it’s always been the flavor of the week when it came to his interests.

“I’m waiting,” says Felix, tugging at Sylvain’s briefs again.

“Okay,” breathes Sylvain, kicking off his pants entirely. His briefs land in a messy pile on the floor beside them. His hand finds Felix’s hip, squeezing it gently as he looks down. Felix feels the heat of his gaze deep in his gut, his cock already twitching again.

Sylvain smirks as he sees it, hand sliding over Felix’s front and then down, his fingers nestling into the hair at the base of his dick. “Gorgeous,” says Sylvain, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Felix’s neck. “But you know that.”

“Yes,” says Felix. Then pauses, huffing. “Still waiting.”

Sylvain licks a stripe up the side of his neck, then says, “Lube?”

At least he’s considerate. Felix is too impatient to even think about something like that at the moment. “What, none on you? What’s happened to your stellar reputation?” As a player who was always ready. Felix is going to tease him about it until the end of time.

“Wasn’t expecting this to happen,” says Sylvain, looking around the room.

“You practically orchestrated this.”

“Trying to seduce you isn’t the same as actually doing it.” Sylvain’s got a point there. Felix is notoriously prickly. He’d managed to ignore it the best he could for months. Until he couldn’t anymore. Sylvain’s gaze settles on something at the far end of the room. “Jackpot,” he says, pulling away from Felix.

Felix watches his backside with a burning gaze, eyes honed in Sylvain’s perfect ass. Sylvain digs through his cue stick bag before pulling out a bottle. Then, Felix narrows his eyes. “Is that your cue stick oil?”

“What?” asks Sylvain, looking incredibly dumb as he stands there mostly naked and confused. “It’ll work.”

“Sylvain, I’m not--”

“It’s linseed oil,” cuts in Sylvain, “and it’s very good for--” Felix bursts into laughter and Sylvain stops dead. “What now?”

Of all the things they can argue about, it’s what they’re going to use as lube. Not their sordid past, or the awkward shit between them, or hell, why Sylvain even left in the first place. But lube.

Sylvain crosses the room in record time. “I’ve broken you,” he murmurs.

Felix clears his throat and says, “Not yet.” He leans back onto the table and spreads his legs, and Sylvain’s gaze drops right to where Felix wants it. Sylvain’s throat bobs as he swallows. “But I expect you to ruin me entirely.”

“Shit,” says Sylvain, a soft little curse as he looks skyward. “I can do that.” His hands find Felix again, squeezing at his hips, running along his sides, pressing close enough that it’s hard to tell where Felix ends and Sylvain begins.

“I mean it,” says Felix. He’s never been one for dirty talk, but with Sylvain, it feels natural. He reaches out to grab the loose tie that still hangs limply around Sylvain’s neck. Felix’s other hand dips into the open shirt, smoothing over a pec. He thumbs at Sylvain’s nipple and gets a low moan in return. “Make it impossible for me to forget.

Sylvain will, Felix knows it. Can already tell by the way that Sylvain whimpers softly against his neck when Felix’s hand drops to grab his cock. Felix’s fingers finally circle around him after such a long wait. He’s hard and wanting in Felix’s hand, already wet at the tip.

“Turn around,” says Sylvain when he regains his senses. Felix responds by sliding his hand up and down instead. “Felix, move--” Felix palms the crown of Sylvain’s dick and he chokes out a sound that Felix would give his first child to hear again.

Sylvain turns him around and presses Felix’s chest down against the felt of the table. “We’re going to fuck up the table,” says Felix, teasing. He doesn’t give a shit about the table anymore, the only thing that matters is Sylvain’s hands on his ass, settling him into a more preferable position.

“Not as fucked as you will be,” says Sylvain, leaning over and whispering into his ear. “Thoroughly and extensively. Within an inch of your life.”

Terrible, terrible lines that absolutely work on Felix. “Do your worst, then,” says Felix, goading him.

Sylvain smiles against the side of Felix’s neck. Felix can imagine it, the way that Sylvain’s lips are curled dangerously. Sylvain presses a soft kiss against the skin there, directly contradictory to the way that his hands slide across his ass, massaging it gently.

“Is that a challenge?” asks Sylvain.

Felix scoffs. “Everything’s a game with you, isn’t it?”

“Not this.” Sylvain’s voice is quiet as he bites at the back of Felix’s neck. “Never this.”

Felix loves it, the way that Sylvain sprinkles in romantic shit as he touches him. “Is that a promise?”

“Yes,” says Sylvain immediately. Sincerely. Like he’s holding the world in his fingertips. One hand slides around Felix’s front, tweaking a nipple through his shirt that’s stubbornly remained on.

Felix hates how much he craves this kind of attention, those soft-spoken words of attention that he’s longed to hear, even when he was pushing them away. In the end, he’s never been able to say no to Sylvain, even if he tries. He’ll always come back.

Still, Sylvain’s insufferably slow at this, taking his damn time. Fingers skimming across Felix’s skin as he relishes the way he’s pressed into the pool table underneath him. “You’re playing lemonade,” says Felix. Stalling everything intentionally, slowing the pace of the game to a crawl. “Get on with it.”

“Yes, yes,” says Sylvain, pulling back. He spreads Felix’s ass cheeks and stares. Felix squirms under the touch, kicking his hips, trying to get the game on the road.

Sylvain slicks his fingers with the accursed cue stick oil and presses one against him. Felix’s breath hitches in anticipation, huffing slightly as Sylvain carefully circles around his entrance. When he slips the finger in, Felix moans so loudly that it’s embarrassing, practically echoing in the empty pool hall.

“Dammit, Felix,” murmurs Sylvain, working his finger in gently, pressing around inside. “Your--”

“So it’s been a while,” Felix bites out. “Fuck off.”

“No, that’s not--” Sylvain pauses, biting at his lip. “Goddess, I can’t wait to just--”

“Faster then, you idiot. I won’t break.”

Felix knows that Sylvain will still be careful, though, treating him like he’s something precious. Sylvain keeps it slower than Felix prefers, pressing in and out leisurely as he tugs slightly at his rim. Then a second finger joins the first. Felix loves the stinging pressure and the way that it makes him feel alive. It sets his blood on fire as it starts to boil, the pressure mounting deep in his gut.

Felix is hard again, cock twitching as it hangs below them.

Sylvain’s fingers move a little faster, setting a prickling pace. The way that he slips them in, the way he spreads them wide to lovingly stretch him-- Felix thrusts back against Sylvain’s hand, trying to speed up the process.

A third finger is added, Sylvain perfectly attuned to the wants and needs of Felix. Felix moans again, bites at his lip, grips tightly at the table rails below him. Sylvain’s good at what he does, prepping him so nicely.

Then his fingers stroke across his prostrate and Felix tightens up.

“Bull’s eye,” says Sylvain triumphantly.

Felix huffs, trying to seem indifferent. “Took you long enough,” he says, but his voice pitches high, crying out wantonly as Sylvain caresses him there relentlessly.

“Not yet,” says Sylvain. He slows his fingers but he doesn’t stop, moving them slowly as Felix does his best to not buck against his hand. “Don’t come until I’m inside you properly.”

“Give me some credit. It’s going to take more than your half-assed efforts.”

Sylvain’s fingers halt. Then he pulls them out entirely, leaving Felix suddenly bereft, his hole clenching around nothing.

“Half-assed,” repeats Sylvain, opening the bottle of oil once again. Felix looks back, watching as he pours it over his cock. He’s delicious looking, long and hard as Sylvain spreads the oil around with his hand. Then he’s spreading Felix’s ass again, thumbing at his loosened hole, watching with a dark and heated gaze. “I thought we weren’t playing games?”

“That was before you decided to take too long. I think I’ve already threatened you about that.”

Sylvain laughs before pulling Felix’s hips back. He nudges Felix’s entrance with the tip of his cock. “Ready?”

“A decade ago,” says Felix. It’s a double meaning, they both know it. They’ve wanted to indulge in this for far too long which is why Felix is so tired of waiting. He has to commend Sylvain on his valiant show of constraint because if it were Felix in his position, he’d have already lost.

Sylvain slides in like it’s second nature. He fills Felix up like he’s always belonged there. And maybe he has, maybe this is what Felix has been missing for so long. The heat and pleasure of what’s probably the world’s most perfect cock.

The man attached to it isn’t so bad either.

“Fuck,” says Sylvain, leaning forward once he’s fully seated, pressing his brow into the back of Felix’s neck. Waiting. Trying to ground himself. His fingers grip Felix by the hips, nearly bruising as he hangs on.

“You aren’t yet.” Felix can’t help the banter and Sylvain chuckles. Presses a kiss to his neck and then moves.

The slide of his cock is smooth. Sylvain’s lazy in the way that his length drags through Felix, a carefully maintained pace that’s just gentle enough. The kind of pace that’s wholly satisfying but not nearly enough.

It’s Felix’s turn to curse; filthy words, Sylvain’s name, anything that he can remember at the moment. He presses back, meeting Sylvain’s thrusts eagerly.

“Are you going to come like a clean shot?” asks Sylvain, his lips finding his ear, tongue licking around the shell of it. “Without me touching you? Like you’ve sunk the nine-ball without any interference.”

Felix should hate the ridiculous pool analogy on principle. He doesn’t, tightening up in response to the jargon. Felix moans at the words, biting at his lip and Sylvain smirks like he’s just won a new pot of money. Felix feels so satisfyingly full. Sylvain’s cock hits in all the right places as he moves over him. In and out. Pulls at his rim with stinging satisfaction.

Sylvain lifts Felix’s leg slightly, the angle changes and suddenly, Felix is seeing stars. Blinding white pleasure now that Sylvain’s cock has direct access to his prostate. Felix is mostly sprawled across the table now, his cock pressed into the soft felt of the table. Dribbling precome pathetically all over it.

“The table’s wet,” whispers Sylvain naughtily into his ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. Felix knows he doesn’t mean the humidity of the room and how it can fuck up a game. Sylvain reaches around to grab Felix’s cock, hand sliding along the length in time as he thrusts into him. “Felix, look at the mess you’ve made.”

“More,” says Felix, needily. He barely recognizes his own voice, too busy chasing the high that’s coursing through him. He can only focus on the thrust of Sylvain’s hips and the way that he fills him so perfectly, setting his nerves alight with every touch.

Sylvain delivers, pressing in as deep as he can go. He’s got a slick grip on Felix’s cock, fingers curled around it loosely as he jerks him. Sylvain bites at the meat of Felix’s shoulder, marking him up, and Felix moans, craving it.

“Felix, fuck.” Sylvain sounds so gone, his hips dragging against Felix in stuttering motions. He’s close, Felix can tell. And Felix is close too, the heat in his groin tightening more and more with every touch of Sylvain’s hand over his dick.

“Inside,” says Felix.

Sylvain pauses. “What?”

“I said to come inside me, you bonehead, not to stop. As in--”

“Yeah, yeah,” murmurs Sylvain. “Shit, Felix. You’ve got a way with words don’t you?” Then he lets go of his cock, leaving Felix feeling stripped of pleasure and entirely on edge. “Think you can do it? Come from just my cock?”

Felix can and he will, wholly determined. It’s perfect, Sylvain’s perfect; from the heat of his length, to the way that drags at him-- Felix can’t think of coming any other way. “Yes,” he says, his voice cracking like the word’s been punched straight from his gut. “Yes.”

Sylvain leans back, fingers digging into the meat of Felix’s waist. He doesn’t speed up, but he thrusts in hard and deep, sweeping strokes that aim to finish this off quickly.

“Look at you,” says Sylvain, “Taking me so well. Always knew that you would.” He spreads Felix’s cheeks, watching as his cock slips in, watching the way that Felix’s rim is stretched around him. Felix can imagine that satisfied smirk on his face, the kind that he gets when he’s won a pot.

Felix is the first to come, his cock just barely touching the felt of the table as Sylvain ruts into him. He tips over the edge, crying out Sylvain’s name and a litany of curses. None of them bad, all of them deserved. He feels rung out and limbless, legs shaking as he collapses onto the table.

Sylvain’s right behind, thrusting in only a few more times because he comes deep, filling him up.  The resulting sound is downright sinful, Sylvain’s moan the kind of thing that Felix dreams about every night.

Even his dreams can’t compare. Sylvain lives up to the hype, thinks Felix as he breathes heavily, awkwardly folded against the pool table. His only regret is that he’d been facing away, that he wasn’t able to see Sylvain’s face in the throes of his orgasm.

Next time.

Sylvain’s careful when he pulls out. He’s gone for only a moment before he’s back with his polishing towel, splashed with lukewarm water from the tap. He cleans Felix up with a soft touch, pausing to look at his work. Felix can feel his spend leaking out of him. Moans when Sylvain presses it back in, his thumb lolling around his hole with smug satisfaction.

“Was it an adequate ruining?” he asks Felix.

Felix shoots him a rude gesture back, too tired to say anything else. Sylvain only chuckles, finishes wiping him up, and then leans in close for a sweet kiss against Felix’s sweaty head.

“For the record, I think you ruined me more,” says Sylvain. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Felix won’t either. After a few minutes, he finds the strength to move, pulling back from the table. Then he sees the absolute mess he’s made all over the felt. Felix pinches the bridge of his nose, hissing at the idea of it.

Sylvain looks over his shoulder, wincing. “That’s, uh--”

“It’s ruined,” says Felix. “I’ll have to get it re-felted.” It’s his fault, though, not Sylvain’s. Not entirely at least. Felix was so gone he didn’t even think about it, lost entirely in their passion. Felix sees Sylvain’s expression and he reaches out, grabbing him by the shirt sleeve. “It isn’t a big deal.”

Sylvain’s flushed and sweaty, his cheeks pink and his hair mussed. Looks like he ran a marathon. Might as well have; Felix put him through the wringer. But then Sylvain smiles like he’s found the meaning of life, a wide grin that makes Felix’s heart stutter.

Felix leans back against the edge of the pool table gingerly and pulls Sylvain close. Sylvain follows, his hands immediately finding purchase on his waist. “Does this mean I’m not kicked out?” asks Sylvain quietly.

“You do bring me a lot of business,” says Felix.

“Oh, so this is all business then?”

Felix is quiet for a moment, fiddling with Sylvain’s collar. “No, it isn’t all business. It’s definitely something more.”

Sylvain cups his cheek, looking at him seriously. Felix pulls him down for a kiss, the kind where lips linger because you want them to. He doesn’t want to forget the way that Sylvain tastes.

When they part, they clean up. Felix limps about slightly, resulting in more raunchy innuendo from Sylvain. He’s never going to hear the end of it.

But Felix doesn’t want to, smiling softly when Sylvain isn’t looking.

They leave the pool hall tired and satisfied, fingers melded together as they walk hand-in-hand. Sylvain stays the night at Felix’s shitty apartment and it’s surprisingly chaste; they fall asleep fully clothed, shoved into a too-small bed, and wrapped around each other.

The next night at the pool hall is the same old bullshit.

Sylvain’s hustling Felix’s customers, stripping them of their money by winning pot after pot. Felix stands against the wall not far off, arms crossed over his chest as he watches. His expression is disgusted as usual. But his demeanor is entirely soft.

Ingrid notices. “Something happened,” she says.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” says Felix, obstinate as ever.

Ingrid levels him with a look. “You and Sylvain. Spill.”

“We played a few games last night.”

“Did you win?”

Ingrid sits on the edge of the doomed pool table. It’s covered that night and entirely off-limits. Felix isn’t sure that he’ll ever be able to look at it again, his face burning red at the mere thought of what he and Sylvain did there.

“You--” Ingrid’s mouth falls open. Then her gaze drops to the table which usually isn’t out of commission. “No,” she says. She jumps off it. “ No.”

Felix doesn’t confirm nor deny it, just sips at his well-deserved alcohol as he looks back at Sylvain. He’s dashing as ever, despite the shitty lighting, sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms. He isn’t wearing a vest this time and the collar’s undone, showing off what Felix would consider his biggest fucking weakness.

He swallows thickly and Ingrid makes a disgusted noise.

“I mean, about fucking time,” she says, “But really, Felix? Here?”

“It wasn’t planned,” he says truthfully.

Silence stretches between the two of them, relatively comfortable. Sylvain wins another pot, leaving behind an angry victim. Looks like someone’s about to go fisticuffs.

“You should go stop whatever that is,” says Ingrid.

“Yeah,” murmurs Felix, pushing away from the wall.

Back to normal, thinks Felix as he tries to talk the scorned gentleman down from punching Sylvain right across the face. Except that it isn’t. Things have shifted entirely, almost like they’ve both gone back in time, and moved forward. The start of something fresh and new.

Felix can think of worse things.

[disneydreamlights]

Across the Stars: Chapter 8

AO3 | FFN

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Summary:  Tensions between the Separatists and the Republic are climbing as the Senate debates whether there is need for an army. Anakin Skywalker, Senator of Tatooine, has recently returned to Coruscant to speak against its formation, resulting in an assassination attempt that forces him to reunite with long time friends Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi and the newly knighted Padme Naberrie for his own protection. [Anidala]

A/N: It’s occurred to me that maybe instead of the fic summary I should have both that and a brief chapter summary for each chapter. Perhaps next time around.

The final chapter/epilogue will probably be up early depending on my work schedule since I always try to make sure I have the chapters up before 8:00 PM EST for the AO3 issues and I don’t like using my phone for updates with more heavy formatting. Expect it probably on Sunday unless I’m off work on Wednesday...which I’m pretty sure I’m not.

As soon as the ships arrived, they docked, allowing the white armored passengers into the arena to help take down the droids surrounding the trapped Jedi. "Around the survivors, a perimeter create." Much to Padmé's surprise, Yoda of all people was leading the charge of soldiers to surround them. The elder Jedi was one of the people most vehemently against any war starting, so the fact that he was here leading an army was near to impossible for her to wrap her head around.

The soldiers immediately pulled out blasters and began firing, hitting the droids and doing as Obi-Wan ordered, clearing a better path. Now no longer surrounded, it became much easier too for the remaining Jedi, as they began slicing through droids with a renewed fervor, aiming for the carriers to get them away. Rather than work at clearing a path, Padmé stayed near Anakin, continuing to keep the senator from harm as she blocked fire and sliced through any droids that got near with her blade.

"Padmé! Anakin!" Padmé looked to a nearby carrier and locked eyes with her former master. "It's time to go."

She nodded and pulled the senator away, continuing to guard him from blaster fire after blaster fire, each catching on her blade and reflecting back at the droid who sent it, before finally making it onto the carrier with Obi-Wan, Anakin standing near her, and they took off, flying around the cliffs rapidly.

"Hold on," Obi-Wan said as he indicated the different straps hanging from the ceiling. Padmé nodded, and grabbed onto one, Anakin grabbing onto her moments later, although she doubted it was for stability. She shot him a look of annoyance and rolled her eyes, only for Anakin to give her a cheeky grin back and grabbed onto one of the ropes as well. (Though still not letting go of her.)

Rather than give Anakin a lecture on actually hiding their relationship, if that's what it was, Padmé decided it was best to remain focused on the task at hand, the battle they were in. "We have to stop them from escaping. If they escape, then it'll be war."

"If you have any ideas, my former Padawan, I'm all ears." She nodded and began skimming the battlefield, looking for anything in the skies or on the ground that they could use to defend themselves.

Her eyes landed on a tower, not far off from the combat in question, and lit up as she came up with her strategy. "The fuel."

"Padmé, what are you talking about?" Anakin asked.

"If we can knock down the fuel towers, we clear the skies and can do more damage to the factory so they won't be able to make as many droids." She had to slow the war effort, it was bad enough they were definitely among an army right now (not that she had any idea of how the Republic managed to put one together so fast) and that all the risk Anakin had put himself in had been for nothing, but at least stopping it from growing would keep things from getting worse.

Anakin grinned at her. "Padmé, you're a genius." The trio watched as the soldiers relayed the commands before firing some kind of explosive right at the fuel tanks, which toppled over, setting off an explosion on the droids beneath it and causing substantial damage.

Obi-Wan gave her a look full of approval, and Padmé felt his pride coming off of him in powerful waves. "Good call, Padmé." She smiled at him, glad to have his approval over her decisions.

"Thank you, Master." They continued flying in the carriers, attempting to keep up with Dooku in the midst of all the chaos of the battle. Energy beams continued to fly around as the shields kept them defended from most of the strikes.

Two cruisers appeared from the ground not far away, and sent a rocket flying at one of the cruisers nearby, causing it and anybody on it to go down in flames. "Attack those federation starships." Obi-Wan gave the order, and the soldiers complied, taking revenge for their fallen brethren who had been shot down.

Padmé had partaken in the slave rebellions on Tatooine when the planet had become free of Hutt control a few years back. She had thought that was war, that was as bad as it would ever get.

This was worse.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by Anakin moments later. "Padmé, Count Dooku's there." She looked at where Anakin was pointing, and though she was unsure how he knew, she knew he was right. She could sense a malevolent presence aboard, likely the Sith that was aiding him in his battle.

"Shoot down that ship."

"We're out of rockets, sir." The soldier's voice reminded her of that of the Mandalorian who had captured her and Anakin in the factory earlier, and an unsettling feeling made its way into her stomach. Why were the people in their army so much like the bounty hunter who had been after Anakin?

Before Padmé could give another command, Anakin spoke up. "Follow that speeder."

"Yes, sir."

The carrier they were on sped up, and Padmé gave Anakin a nervous look. "Anakin, we can't go after him."

"We don't have a choice. The three of us are the only ones close enough to Dooku to give chase. And we have to stop him here if we want to stop the war." That...no, that couldn't be right. Anakin had to be mistaken.

"No, Master Yoda and Master Windu, they were nearby, they can–"

"Master Yoda and Master Windu have gone to lead the clones in the battle on the surface of Geonosis." Obi-Wan's statement confirmed Anakin's request. "We are, unfortunately, the only ones here who can. Fortunately, I know both of us can handle ourselves in a fight, Padmé. Have a little faith."

She wanted to argue, but deep down knew that Obi-Wan was right. Their best bet was to fly straight there. Besides, he had a point, even if she wasn't one hundred percent confident in her ability to face Dooku, Obi-Wan had already killed a Sith once before. Dooku would have to be child's play compared to the Sith he'd defeated on Naboo, and that thought gave her some comfort.

They continued flying closer, Anakin clinging onto Padmé whenever the flight got turbulent to make sure he could stay on the carrier, and it wasn't long before they landed just outside.

Padmé and Obi-Wan stepped off, gripping their lightsabers tightly in their hand. "Stay on the ship Anakin." She couldn't afford to babysit him in this battle, it was too important.

"No." He shook his head. "I may not be Jedi trained, but I can still fight. You both need all the help you can get." He then smirked at Padmé. "Besides, weren't you the one who wanted more backup."

"Yes, Jedi backup."

"And you'll have me instead." Anakin put a hand on Padmé.

"Either stay on the ship or don't Anakin, but we don't have time to discuss this. If we don't stop Dooku then there will be consequences." Anakin and Padmé both immediately fell silent, the reminder of exactly why they were there at this moment a dark reminder of everything they had to lose if this took too long.

Obi-Wan led the way in, Padmé following close after him and, much to her annoyance, Anakin following after them. They set foot in the hanger, lightsabers immediately lit.

"Going somewhere, Dooku?" Obi-Wan called out to Dooku, who had been walking towards a ship near the back of the hanger.

He stopped, and watched as Obi-Wan and Padmé moved in between the ramp and Dooku. "I was, until you and your apprentice stood in my way."

"Former apprentice, actually." Padmé smiled, but didn't say anything more. "Give up Dooku, you're outnumbered."

"And you're outmatched." Lightning shot out of Dooku's hand, blasting the space where Anakin stood. The senator barely managed to duck behind a rock in time to avoid the blast, and Padmé felt relief that he was safe for now. "Bringing a senator along to a fight between Jedi, a bad decision Kenobi, Naberrie. He barely knows how to fight."

"You shouldn't underestimate him, nor should you underestimate us." Whether Padmé agreed with Dooku's assessment or not was irrelevant, nobody talked bad about Anakin. Not in front of her, at least.

Obi-Wan moved to the side, positioning himself closer to the exit. "We'll take him together. You go in slowly on the left, I'll come in from the right." Padmé nodded, and together in sync, she and her master ran towards Dooku, swinging their lightsabers down. Dooku raised his, blocking Obi-Wan's attack with a practiced ease before aiming a palm at Padmé, stopping her in her tracks by way of the Force and shoving her back. She hit the wall, and felt pain shoot up her back as the wall rubbed against the scratches she'd earned in the arena. She lifted her head, trying to watch the battle between Obi-Wan and Dooku.

In terms of skill, they were evenly matched, Obi-Wan's blue lightsaber matching Dooku's red blow for blow, Dooku taking the offensive while Obi-Wan took advantage of his defensive combat style to block each strike as it came before jumping backwards onto the ramp, safely out of range of Dooku's strike. In response, Dooku sent out a blinding lightning bolt right at Obi-Wan, which he blocked with his saber. "As you see my Jedi powers are far beyond yours."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Obi-Wan gave Dooku a smirk before jumping back into the fray, slashing at him once more, constantly raising to guard and taking advantage of any momentary breaks in Dooku's form to attempt to land a hit. It was a stalemate, though Obi-Wan seemed unsettled. Padmé wasn't sure what the lightning that Dooku used meant, but given she'd never stumbled across it in all her training, it didn't seem likely it was something that could just be used for good.

Then, in the middle of the dancing blades, Obi-Wan fumbled, only for a moment, but it was enough. Dooku sliced at his arm and side, and the man crumpled to the ground, alive, but injured and unable to fight further. "Master Kenobi, you disappoint me. Yoda holds you in such high esteem. Surely you can do better." It seemed that, despite his disappointment, Dooku didn't care for the young Jedi Knight's life, as he simply raised his lightsaber in an attempt to finish the job.

Only to be blocked by Anakin, who had grabbed Obi-Wan's saber to protect him. Padmé watched in horror, trying to pick herself up to do something.

"Brave of you boy, I would've thought you'd have learned your lesson." Dooku taunted him, but rather than phasing the boy, Anakin just smirked in response.

"I'm a slow learner."

"That you may be, but you are also an untrained Force sensitive, and not worth my time." And with that he lifted Anakin up off the ground, who grabbed at his throat.

He was force choking Anakin. He would die if she didn't manage to pull Dooku's attention away. She forced herself off the ground and ran, her lightsaber relit and ready for battle as she swung the blade down. Dooku released Anakin to block her strike, and he fell next to Obi-Wan, unconscious, but alive. "Leave Anakin alone."

"Ah, so you do care for the senator...interesting." Whatever Dooku was noting that for, Padmé didn't want to know. She swung her lightsaber, each match being met by Dooku's and just like with Obi-Wan, little ground was gained or lost between the two of them. They simply continued to strike at each other. Green met with red in a violent clash of colors, creating bright sparks where they met.

Dooku smirked and pushed her back with the Force, breaking the pattern and throwing her off balance. "Padmé!" She caught Obi-Wan's lightsaber as the man threw it at her and blocked the strike with both sabers. She kept striking, but the extra saber made no difference in her ability to hit Dooku. He was too well trained. She couldn't protect them on her own or defeat Dooku by herself. She needed Obi-Wan, she needed–

Before she could process anything more, a searing pain went through her left arm, and she looked down to see nothing but empty space where the lightsaber should have been. She let out a cry in pain, but before she could react farther, even attempt to process, she was pushed back with the Force, the remaining saber flying out of her hand and to the ground.

She looked up, the red glow of Dooku's corrupt lightsaber vanished, and he turned his back away from the two, defeated Jedi and Force sensitive senator. It was likely the only reason he hadn't killed them was because they'd managed to stall for a long enough period. Hopefully, long enough where the other Jedi could show up and help them.

Just before Dooku could head up the ramp, however, the sound of footsteps reached Padmé's ears, alongside the sound of a cane hitting the ground. The movements were slow, but not drawn out, and it wasn't long before Yoda came around the corner, looking upon the scene in front of him without judgement or anger.

"Master Yoda." Dooku nodded to the Jedi Grandmaster, though it was clear it was more born out of courtesy than anything else.

"Count Dooku." There was a sadness to Yoda's voice, almost as though he regretted the fate that was going to pass. The inevitable battle that would be coming sooner rather than later. The two powerful Jedi looked upon each other for a moment, neither speaking a word.

"You have interfered with our affairs for the last time." Dooku finally spoke, breaking the silence. Rather than give a chance for possible negotiation, Dooku pulled a piece of metal off the walls of the hanger and threw it at Yoda, who caught it with the Force and set it down gently, not wanting to cause any further damage. He repeated this twice more, but both times, Yoda easily protected himself from each of Dooku's strikes, sending the objects away before they could deal any damage, though this time it was less like a gentle set down and more of a throw as far away as possible. It seemed as though Yoda was struggling more with fighting somebody who was once a fellow Jedi more so than he was with the battle itself.

He entered a combat stance, as though daring Dooku to throw more objects at him, and throw more Dooku did. He raised his hand and brought down the ceiling, which may have crushed Yoda had he not been as strong in the Force as he was, but as it stood, he simply caught the rubble and tossed it aside, much like every other object thrown his way. "Powerful, you have become Dooku." Rather than simple praise, however, Yoda sighed. "The dark side I sense in you."

Padmé felt her blood run cold. Was that why Dooku had so many strange powers she had never seen a Jedi use before? Was his lightsaber now truly that of a Sith?

"I have become more powerful than any Jedi, even you." Dooku sent a blast of the same blue lightning he had used on all of them at Yoda, but unlike Obi-Wan and Anakin, Yoda had been able to simply catch it in his hand, absorbing the lightning before redirecting it back at Dooku. Dooku blocked the lightning before firing it again. This time, however, Yoda absorbed it and let it dissipate into nothing, as though it had never been fired at him in the first place.

"Much to learn you still have." Ever the teacher, Yoda was, even now, even to the dark side user in front of him who may have fallen not just from the light, but to the dark realm of the Sith.

"It is obvious this contest cannot be decided by our knowledge of the force," a bright red glow surrounded Dooku as he turned back on his lightsaber, preparing for combat, "but by our skills with a lightsaber."

Without a word, Yoda summoned his lightsaber from the pocket of his robe using the Force and ignited it, the bright green glow attracted her attention for a moment before he was running at Dooku. Keeping track of the fight was difficult, as Yoda was all over the place, moving rapidly as he constantly struck at Dooku, managing to barely be blocked by the red lightsaber at every turn. Similarly each time Dooku attempted to land a hit, Yoda would catch it in turn before jumping away, and continuing to move away from the blade. The pattern continued, and Yoda jumped onto the ship, causing Dooku to strike it's wing. The ship took minimal damage, and Yoda avoided the lightsaber's blade before jumping on the walls and in front of Padmé, Obi-Wan, and Anakin, away from the ship, but still distant to the two hurt Jedi and the senator.

Dooku struck once more for Yoda, and Yoda caught the strike easily. "Fought well you have, my old Padawan."

"This is just the beginning." Dooku lifted his other hand and used the Force to pull down on one of the nearby walls, grabbing a part of the structure of the hanger and pulled it down towards the trio, leaving Yoda with little choice but to attempt to catch it to protect them. The pillar slowed its descent, but Padmé watched as Dooku boarded his ship, likely to inform the Separatist council (or maybe other Sith?) what had happened here today. The pillar fell harmlessly to the side, crashing to the ground with a loud thud.

With Dooku gone, silence fell, the gravity of their failure hitting them with no other choice but to acknowledge that Dooku had managed to escape. Yoda let out an audible sigh, but Padmé found herself looking to the unconscious body beside her. She used her remaining arm to push herself up and did her best to maneuver over to Anakin. "Ani?" She felt his presence stir in the Force, and found herself looking into his blue eyes.

"Hi." He gave her a small smile.

"Hi." She attempted to return the smile, but given the situation found it a bit difficult, even if seeing Ankain awake alleviated a lot of her fears.

Anakin sat up and looked around, as though attempting to process. "Where's Dooku?"

"...escaped." It hurt to admit that the rogue Jedi had fled, but there was nothing else to say. She had failed to stop him, stop the war. "Anakin, I'm so sorry–"

"All of us are still alive, and you did your best." He didn't comment on anything, instead simply bringing their foreheads together. "That's all we could really hope for."

And in that moment, with their foreheads pressed together, Padmé believed it. There would be more times that they could stop Dooku and end the war.

The three of them made it out of there mostly in one piece and alive and to Anakin and her, that was all that mattered.

[Next Part]

[tabletopjourneys]

Session 31 Notes

We continue our journey in the Anesh desert, fight a few worms, find Perfection, and make plans to beat up the matricidal babies in town.

Alt Title: Tremors 8 - The D&D AU

@gher-bear​ @aradow​ @telurin​ @epimetala​

On this day we continue our journey across the Anesh desert, have a nice spot of lunch just outside the valley, and then in one fell swoop, discover exactly what Perfection’s problem is along with what those mole hills all over the desert were about. Somehow our camels all survive!

We kill a few giant worms, then sneak off from the remainder to check in on the town asap. There we find the town infested by an equally unrecognizable creature with only 3 remaining townsfolk all up on their roofs.

We get on a roof as well, use message to communicate with the others and hatch a plan.

In our pause we discover these new creatures are parthenogenic, two of them hawking up whole new babies ready to fight. Lovely.

(Read More)

Over the journey across the desert, we note that Rana and Diem have practically swapped roles with Rana energetic and smiley while Diem in their Tarma guise remains quiet and stoic.

Rana tells Edea all about the meteor and the detour she has planned that the rest of us don’t know about.

First morning there are more birds in distance but hard to see in the sun. It’s a quiet morning with meat stick breakfast on the go, good and early to make the most of the last hours of good travel time.

Eventually we see mesas and get close enough to also see that it’s the lip of a large basin.

The little valley below is more green than rest

Edea’s in good mood so she tells us about the surrounding area with Pebbles interjecting.

Mostly the whole area is made up of sandstone and limestone

Natural springs dotting the landscape ahead, no visible people, though Phi spots some buildings and glimmer of water.

Rana notices the road area has been widened for more traffic very recently

Tarma-Diem is too interested in storytime to do much talking (though they aren’t nearly as expressive under the Tarma guise)

We get just over the lip to the main area of the road close enough to the cliffs for shade and stop for real food (lunch).

Tarma-Diem summons the hut for this, much to Edea’s amusement (though she also partakes of the comfort). One of us (Rana? Phi? Lingers outside the hut for a bit because looking through transparent walls at the view just isn’t the same as seeing it unfiltered.

Then...breadsticks!

17 con check, I manage an hour of scribing alarm.

(”Big like hell underground monsters and they’re coming after you guys, they’re comin right now!”)

Up on camels again, we get in the valley and Phi notices a whispered thing as Tarma-Diem’s method acting fails to make them even reasonably perceptive.

Phi calls out and points at poofs of dust moving toward us but it goes away before anyone else sees it.

Phi: You guys didn’t see it?

Phi describes it as foof foof dust lol

Rana gets off the camel to perceive while feeling more connected through direct contact with the ground, but it doesn’t help. She definitely senses nothing in time to avoid getting grappled by two snake like things popping up out of the ground.

Another pair pop out near me and try to hook my camel, but Jadrie dances out of the way.

Edea stoneskins Pebbles

I stay on my camel.

Edea: Everyone stay off the ground!

I cast fly on my camel in response, it hovers about a foot off the ground and I’m able to steer it forward a little toward the rocks and away from the snakes, but not up.

Rana nature checks: These are not purple worms

Rana tries to polymorph one of the snakes into a mouse. It turns into a clinging mouse on her leg.

Rana: I have one, don’t touch it!

She tries to grab it by the tail. She nat 20 animal handles that shit to set the mouse on the ground and climb back on the camel. “One’s a mouse!”

Phi shoots at the furthest snake in front of her - one of the two that tried to snag Jadrie (since Rana said not to touch the one that’s a mouse now lol).

She does 7 dmg.

The one she shot and its nearby buddy both slink back into the ground, leaving loose earth where they were.

Phi runs the camel (east) in the opposite direction from Diem, and up another bit of rocky area but only gets animal handling of 4.

Phi’s camel gets a nat 20 on dex save when 3 pop up at her camel and it freaks out, then belatedly realizes why she was trying to make it a rock climber. Said camel manages to get up on the rock after all. One of the 3 has an arrow sticking out of it still, grasping blindly at the rocks trying to get her.

Pebbles moves himself and Edea up onto the rocks.

Ixayl’anu drives the elk toward the ones after Phi to try and take a stab at one of the worms that are still trying to get to Phi. She misses. 2nd swing hits for crit dmg 20. They all go underground.

Graboid mouse tries to bite the camel for 1 pt of damage.

Camel flings mouse away but it’s light and doesn’t take any damage, is thrown about 10-15 ft away, squeaking angrily.

Edea: “Get to the rocks!” 

Edea then casts silence on Rana’s area, just enough for Rana to get on a rock - Rana suddenly goes deaf, Edea motions her forward.

Rana rolls low on animal handling check, Rana slaps its side with spider climb and tries again.

Phi holds her action for next one’s appearance. Ixayl’anu also holds her action to the same end.

Mouse runs after last spot of sound, but freaks out just inside the silence circle and stops moving.

Whole huge graboid head comes out of the ground at Ixayl’anu.

15 to hit from Phi, it skitters off the hard armor plating of its head.

Ixayl’anu misses. Her 2nd attack succeeds - 6dmg

Creature attacks back - 16 dmg on Ixayl’anu directly, she rolls a nat 20 on her dex save. It let her go because she stabbed it. However, it does not completely retreat, withdraws only a tiny bit back.

Edea casts 5th level blight on the graboid next to Ixayl’anu. 48 pts necro dmg

It shudders and rests a little on the ground, too hurt to go under.

11 pts of eldritch blast from Tarma-Diem finishes it off, electrocuting it with prismatic lightning eldritch blast making it stiffen up and scream, shuddering and exploding all over Ixie.

Tarma-Diem to self: Dammit, I’m gonna be the one cleaning that up later…

Rana watches the mouse trying to figure out what to do. She can’t shout anything to anyone, so Rana has her fist raised to get attention while watching her mouse.

Phi is confused why Rana is looking away from the giant worm with her hand raised, but she also sees two more puffs in the distance, and Rana still has the mouse. Phi: Good job Diem! Two more over there (plus words I missed).

Tarma-Diem, nodding toward Edea: Pretty sure that was mostly Edea, but you’re welcome!

Pebbles passes his action.

Ixayl’anu charges up on her mount, Rana waving a frantic no, Ixayl’anu casts nature’s wrath, restraining the mouse in little tiny vines, Ixayl’anu sees it’s mouth opening up but doesn’t hear any of the angry squeaks. No one hear’s the mouse’s deadly anger. It is so hungry. But no one hears. No one cares. Edea has put up a censor blocking out all of its foul language.

Dex sav throw for Ixayl’anu’s elk as 3 new little guys pop up around her - 15: The elk is grappled by one, wrapped around its leg.

More vibrations are part of what Rana was trying to no no no about, to no avail.

Edea drops the silence and attempts to cast polymorph on the one on Ixayl’anu. It turns into a rat, still clinging to the elk’s leg.

I hold a toll the dead for any new emergence that has not been polymorphed: “What do we do now?!”

Edea: I think we found their problem.

Rana: What do we wanna do about the polymorphs?

Tarma-Diem: Well, Phi said there’s more out there.

Phi: Yeah, there’s more out that way (points vaguely at two spots south and east)

Rana holds erupting earth in that case.

Phi holds an arrow and then uses rat speak to say to snake ~hellooooo friend~ all menacing like.

The rat whips its head around to her and just screams at her.

Phi screams back at it.

Rana tries and fails to perceive a dirt cloud

Pebbles passes

Ixayl’anu tries to stab the rat twice since it’s still clinging to her - 8dmg, *whole worm pops up above ground* 

All held actions come into play.

Tarma-Diem: Holy shit that’s huge! *toll the dead for 12 dmg*

Rana casts erupting earth at it and does 8 dmg. Area in the 20 ft square becomes difficult terrain until cleared.

Phi shoots it, but it skitters off the head armor.

Ixayl’anu misses her 2nd swipe, the moving earth fucked it up. Ixayl’anu moves up on top a rock with her elk and bonus action casts shield of faith.

The graboid submerges in the freshly turned earth.

Mouse graboid bites at the vines and gets free. It huffs and looks at Ixayl’anu with all the fury of a no-longer-blind rage. 

Edea: If ya’ll get over here, I can hit us with pass without a trace so we can get out of here.

Rana: If you can get Diem, I’ll get Ixie and Phi - Phi get closer to Ixie!

Phi: I don’t think my camel can get there.

Rana casts pass without a trace on herself, which pops the mouse at full health above ground (concentration switched).

The submerged one notices her movements, but her camel rolls really well, notices the snake tongue and lifts it hoof up very slow, very gently sets foot back down  because Rana and camel’s goals are one now lol. Basically, that gif up at the top happens with camel toes instead of cowboy boots (yes I chose that wording on purpose. You’re welcome)

Rana slaps guidance on her camel with a pat, +4 to next dex roll as she gets in range to stealth up Ixayl’anu and Phi.

Ixayl’anu gets a 17 stealth to move closer to Rana.

Phi gets a whopping 35 stealth. Where did she go? We don’t know!

I got a 14 on my stealth, when my camel touches down it makes enough noise they both worms focus my direction. Tarma-Diem casts toll the dead on the one above ground and does 12 dmg, it dives away from them.

Rana’s head whips around, Tarma-Diem makes a shushing motion (like: I did it, but over there, away from us, keep going). Otherwise Tarma-Diem is actually taking all their cues from Edea and heading south with their camel.

("I don’t care what they’re doin, long as they’re doin it waaaay over there.”)

Edea quietly gestures us farther down the road, and falls back to be last in line. Rana takes point.

We move ahead quietly, keeping an eye out but nobody sees anything, despite Phi’s 26.

New stealth I do the worst at 14 (again). We later decide this was because I was too busy cleaning up smelly monster guck from Ixayl’anu.

We’re all distracted for the walk, except Phi, who notices disappearing cows in the distance and sends it message stone to us.

Rana is ever practical (this is literally ALL I wrote here lol - I think it’s referring to her not at all minding that they’re busy eating the cows instead of us?).

Tarma-Diem cantrip-messages back: I guess that’s why they’re leaving us alone.

Edea motions us to move a little faster as a result, seeing Phi’s motions.

Last stealth check my gentle whispers helped Jadrie get a 27 on her stealth this time around. Rana practically disappeared (nat 20). Phi got 32, Ixaylanu got 24.

Perception rolls coming into town, Rana and Tarma-Diem are too focused on sealthiness (AKA we’re too focused on looking at the ground)

Ixayl’anu notices this town is VERY quiet. (The townsfolk are wabbits?)

Phi: Woah, looks like some shit went down here…

Rana and I look around at those words and see the wreck of Perfection, blood spatters on walls, doors shoved in, buildings caving in, walkways shattered and more.

Human on roof, tries to quietly make hand gestures like what are you doing, get on a roof, off the ground (Later introduced as Lee Beck, a research student).

Edea casts wall of stone for all our mounts to theoretically keep them all safe, letting us know she’ll have to drop pass without a trace after we all get our mounts on the stone corral. 10ft high walls on either side so the mounts can get out. She concentrates for 10 minutes until it’s permanent.

Rana hung hamlet pouch off camels, phi copied that and told them to stay.

We follow rana into nearest building with door ajar and she sees a creature rummaging. Little flaps raise off the top of said creature’s head and it screams

Rana had her arms out to stop us from passing and slams the door shut.

3 thuds hit the door with echoed screams. Rana tries to hold it shut.

Phi tries to parkour up the building across the way. 22 to get up. She looks around a little from her new vantage point and sees 5 more behind her in the courtyard, other side of the building she parkoured up.

Phi lets us know and says that’s probably what that lady was motioning about, getting off the ground.

Meanwhile, one of the others on the other side of the door from Rana manages to break thru like heeeeeere’s Johnny from the shining, but can’t really open it’s mouth.

Edea reaches out and confuses it - it fails and is sitting there dazed and blocking the others.  

(”Everybody...get up on your roofs!”)

Ixayl’anu misty steps herself and rana to the roof with Phi. 

I cross to that same building and pull out my rope, make it tie off on the roof. Edea and I climb up and I slip it back into my pack as we duck down low.

2 of the original 3 scream again as they all bust through.

Their flaps raise and they scream one more time, spotting us. We got a 28 stealth from the second group on the other side of the building though, so they see nothing and don’t seem to be responding to the screams.

Rana gestures toward Tarma-Diem then the villager who was playing charades earlier. 

Tarma-Diem nods and pauses to sort out exactly what to say first about all this. 

Tarma-Diem to Charade Lady: Well...what the fuck do we do now? You can respond to this message.

Charade Lady: We don’t know they just showed up they don’t hear but big ones do, so try not to make too much noise.

I relay these messages

Rana: Why are we whispering?

Tarma-Diem: Because she also said the big ones might come back.

Through some back and forth messaging we establish that her name is Lee Beck (I don’t care where, we just do, okay?) and that we are indeed with the druid who’d been sent this way to answer a call for help. That we’ll take care of it and just need caught up to speed on everything that’s happened.

Lee Beck, together with the half orc female and male human on two other roofs (Val and Earl, respectively) drove big ones away with some explosives, staying behind to do so while the rest of the town got to safely up in the mountains, but  now they’re out of explosions and these new screaming guys just showed up.

I ask how long ago and how many. The rest of these exchanges are relayed piece meal to the group, but I didn’t record most of our chatter.

Lee: New ones are very recent, used to be only be four and we’ve counted and killed at least twice that many now.

Tarma-Diem: Where do they come from?

Lee: *exasperated* We don’t know they obvs look the same in the face but they’re different.

*We talk amongst ourselves about that, Phi suggests maybe each piece becomes a new one, maybe?*

Tarma-Diem to Lee: You’re sure when you killed them it wasn’t some sort of hydra situation?

Lee: Yeah we’re sure, the one’s we’ve killed have stayed dead.

We talk amongst ourselves again about just going for it vs. coming up with a plan, trying to figure out how many we’re up against, etc.

After much of this back and forth, Tarma-Diem to Lee: We’re gonna start a fight then over here, so if we shouldn’t...you should respond to this message.

Lee: Be careful to keep it quiet, the big ones are still around and they get smarter - learn from their mistakes, plus they’ll just wait us out, go off and eat cattle, come back.

We do a little bit more planning in response to this. We talk about whether or not we should try and lure them out of the town to avoid as much damage as possible to the remaining structures. How we’d even get out there though, whether or not we’d even make it very far or be able to draw out all of them without having to worry about attracting more of the big ones back into town.

Eventually I message Lee again asking about any better places to start the attack, stronger structures, whether or not, in her experience, she thinks luring them away from town would work.

She informs me she is just a researcher and the two guys behind her are just local handymen, but the person who lived there got swallowed whole and there’s not even a floor under our building any more. Overall though, without any more explosives, the three of them wouldn’t be of much help even if we all did gather on the same roof.

About this time, as Edea has been studying the group not occasionally shrieking at us, she gets our attention to tell us they’re parthenogenic. Two of the ones behind us had each hawked up a new baby, now smaller, but apparently just as capable as they forage around.

Tarma-Diem messages this back to Lee, just to keep her up to speed, just in case.

Lee: Lovely *she just sits down, completely done with this day*

Thursday the 28th for next session 6pm est

[narcis-the-monk]

FC5 GFH Tag

tagged by @chyrstis​ thank you soooooooo much!!!!!!!! This was a hell of a lot of fun, and I’m going to eventually do my other deputy as well. I went with Val the first time because I’ve been writing her for a minute now. ^^;; But this honestly helped me figure her out a little more, so thank you again <3

Deputy Valya Vitale

With Fangs for Hire:

     • Boomer: “Hey boy, you’re being a real good dog. I’m sure your folks know that.” / *patting her legs* “Who’s the best boy? Who’s the best dog that rips out peggie throats? That’s right!” *sound of laughter* “It’s you!” / “I fuckin’ love this dog.”      • Peaches: “Never been a cat person, but I’ll make an exception for you.” / “You think catnip works on cougars? I’m looking for some every place we check now.” / “Yes ma’am. You will absolutely get that treat I have for you when we stop next. I know you smell it.”      • Cheeseburger: “This is the best fuckin’ day of my life. I’m fighting with a bear. I think we’ll win.” / “I never knew what I needed in life was to pet a big ol’ grizzly bear. I mean, I’ve been hugged by bears before. Just not this kind. And I love it just as much, if not more.” / “Next time we stop to fish, I’m catching you so much food. Just for being you.”

With other Guns for Hire: Sharky      • “Hey Shark, remember when we got trashed down by the river? Pretty sure this is the spot. Cause I remember you puking there. And there. And me over there. And that’s where I lost my shoe. Hey! There’s my shoe! Small mysteries are solved each day.”      • “Hey buddy, how about if the enemy is say…whatever you’d rank a 3 out of 5 or higher…we don’t set it on fire?”      • “You won’t hear me say this one a lot, so appreciate it. But you were right. Fire was the answer.”      • “You are an absolute mad man and I love the shit out of you, but I need to fight upwind of you from now on. Smoke in my eyes and throat when I’m trying to scream in the face of some asshole that punched me in the tit isn’t what I’d call fantastic. Your aim is so much better now though.”

Grace      • “I’ll give you 20 bucks and my last good beer if you can shoot three peggies in the dick at the next outpost.” *when she’s met with silence* “Guessin’ that’s a no, then.”      • “You have the patience of a saint. I can’t wait even 30 seconds to let my food cool, let alone wait for some asshole to walk out from behind a pole. Fuckin’ amazin’.”

Hurk      • “Watch where you point that thing! And stop laughing, you know I’m not talking about your dick. That’s not an actual threat and we both know it.” *eventually starts laughing with him*      • “I ever tell you how much I love your stories? I never know how they’ll end. I love a good plot twist.”      • “Remember when you, me, and Shark got that moose drunk and we all spent the night in a tree? I’m pretty sure that moose remembers us. He is not a fan.”

Adelaide      • “You keep wonderin’ how they fuck—and that is a point of interest we can revisit later—but I’m wonderin’ how they do every day shit. Like, Jacob’s—does he hunt or does he fish? If he prefers hunting, that tells me big facts about him. They’re both about sittin’ and waiting, right? Schemin’ the right moment to move. One just makes you feel like a big boy, cause you get to hold a gun.  Hey, look at that. This time I left you speechless.”      • “Been considerin’ this for a minute, and if anyone ever asks I’ll deny it up and down and throw you under the bus all in one but…fuck Faith, marry Jacob, and kill Joseph. Last one was hard as fuck.”      • “I need you to just…stop talking for a while. Let’s say 30 minutes. 30 minutes of silence so my brain can finish bleaching itself. Thanks.”

Nick      • “You’re lucky you’ve got guns on that thing, or I’d be giving you a lot more shit about never putting your feet on the ground. I got literally nothin’ else to pick on you with that’s fair.”      • “So how different are planes from cars on a scale of one to ten? I’m just figurin’ out if some shit went wrong and you aren’t near…how fucked are we? Things to think about.”      • “You know, never really liked flyin’. My head’s in the clouds too much for my feet to be too. But I gotta say…you are damn good at it. Almost makes me wanna try. Almost.”

Jess      • “I mean, sure, its satisfying to line up the perfect shot from a mile away and nail it. I’ve been hunting, Jess. I’m just saying, for me personally, I’m a bigger fan of an oar or a baseball bat to the face when I can get it. Makes it personal, and all of this is very fuckin’ personal now.”      • “Look, I don’t like talkin’ about my feelings either, so I’m just gonna hug you.” *stalls after getting the evil eye but hugs quickly* “You are two feet tall and maybe ninety pounds. Like I’m scared of you this close up.”      • “If you were a part of breakfast, you’d be the coffee Jess. Dark and harsh, but great for a wakeup call.”

In Combat      • Seeing an enemy: “I’m on ‘em like flies on shit.” / “You got that one?”      • Sneaking: *mumbled string of ‘fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck’ whenever she moves a long distance* / “Man, fuck this sneaking shit right in the skull.”      • Killing an enemy: “Boo-fuckin-YAH bitch!” / *if you make your shot* “Hellyeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”      • Reviving: “Nope. Not today. Gotta keep you on your feet.” / “Get the fuck up, it’s not the time for a lie down!”      • Hurt: “Well fuck me sideways. I’m alright, keep moving.” / “That’s definitely leavin’ a mark!” / “Oh go fuck yourself!”      • Downed: “Just need a minute here.” / “I think I need a hand up here!” / “Keep goin’, don’t waste time if you don’t got it.” Driving      • If asked to drive: “This may be the best decision you’ve made all day. Buckle up tight.” / “Alright, but seatbelts on or we don’t go anywhere at all.”      • Driving recklessly: “See, this is why I insist on seatbelts!” / “Slow the fuck down or you’ll fuck this car up! I ain’t seen another available ride in a minute!”      • Changing radio stations: “Will you settle on something? Oh, sorry, forgot where I was. Thought everything was normal and Shark was fiddlin’ with the radio again.” / “Cult’s fucked…but I’m okay with their music for the most part.”

Idle      • “Used to have a snake. He was a huge boa constrictor. He liked to kinda just wrap around me like I was a tree. It felt like the best hug there ever was.”      • “Did you know I grew up in Vegas? That place really is a constant party, even away from the strip if you know where to look. It’s not a great thing when you’ve got an addictive personality and prone to efforts of escapism. That’s why I moved out here. It’s pretty, its quiet, and the cost of gas to get anywhere is enough to deter the acquisition of drugs. So did working with Whitehorse. Man’s a saint. Reminds me of my Grandpa Conner—don’t tell him I said that. He’ll think I mean old.”      • “I taught myself how to be a mechanic. Books and experience, and it all started when my old truck broke down when I was 16. Couldn’t afford a mechanic, so I got my grandpa and some tools and learned a lesson that day. Then I had to learn the rest. I still have that old truck. Musta rebuilt that motherfucker from the ground up three times. Only a few things left of the original. But I’m a sentimental fool, and it was a gift.”      • “Callie says an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Well, she didn’t say it but she quotes it a lot. But I’m thinking…maybe this time, we all just need to be blind. We need a reason to step back and reassess and neither side is gonna be the first to do it. So I’m skeptically hopeful of our win, but still down with the blind thing.”

Location Specific      • In the Henbane region: “Hey, if we could avoid bliss as often as possible…that would be great. Shit makes me feel like I dropped acid non-consensually.” / “Hmmm…there’s the tinglies in my spine again. Where is that little bitch of a plant? I’m gonna rip it apart.”      • In the Whitetails: “If we get a chance, I'd like to swing by my place. Make sure things are fine. Grab some tools. Get Reggie's ashes, since these fucks don't have respect for dead people, they definitely won’t have respect for dead pets.” / “Man, I miss hiking. Well I mean, technically we’re hiking right now. I mean I miss hiking without the sounds of an actual war. Birds and wind and shit. I miss that. But this is good exercise too.”      • Near any body of water: “Please say maybe this time we’re just out to fish. No? Worth a shot. One of these days.” / “This county has the best fishin’ spots in the world, but the best one’s require a hike and some camping gear to really enjoy.” / “If they hadn’t started dumping bliss in everything, I’d say let’s go for a quick swim. The water here is never as cold as you think it is.”      • Fall’s End: “Mary May runs a tight ship, but she can throw a hell of a party.” / “Pastor Jerome set me up with AA when I first moved to the county. He’s a damn good man, and a great listener.” / “As stupid as it is, I look forward to the Testy Festy every year. Love a good tradition. Sometimes you just need something to look forward to, you know?”

I’m going to tag @deathvalleyqueen​ because I’d like to learn more about your characters, but you may have been tagged before. ^^;;;

Thank you so so much! I don’t think I have many people I can tag that haven’t already been, but consider it an open tag if you see it on your dash. <3 

[onedoesnotsimplywriteafanfic]

She is dying either way Part 3

Teen Wolf

Characters: Stiles, Theo, Derek, Mellisa, Scott, Liam, Hayden, the Dread doctors, Kira, Allison

Pairing: Stiles Stelinski/ Theo Reaken X Reader Argent

Summary: Being Allisons big sister you swore to protect her. Always. After she died by the hands of an Oni you start blaming yourself for it. Separating yourself from the pack you throw yourself in fights you know you can’t handle. Becoming a stranger to your friends fighting the supernatural alone. A human against the creatures of the night.

One night you find yourself fighting for your life, ending up nearly killed and in a coma. Waking up left you with severe amnesia. Not even remembering your own name. The pack changes your last name so you can start over. Keeping their distance to protect you from a far. Theo take advantages of the situation and grows close to you. Betraying you, leaving you vulnerable.

Warnings: none so far. But it would be nice to know that the story isn’t at all accurate with the shows time line from season 3.

Word count: chapter word count: 3,220                     total word count 10,370

part 1: here and 2 here 

Panic struck Theo when he had found out. One of them visited him informing him on my condition. ''Her condition is promising.'' he had said. ''Her, who is her?'' He didn't realise they were talking about me. ''Your friend.'' he said before disappearing again.  

Running around his room trying to find some clothes and shoes, he ran to the one person he knew would help, Scott, even if that means coming clean.  

Walking up his door step he knocked hastily on his door. A sleepy Scott opened the door. ''Theo don't you know what time it is.'' he said annoyed. ''It's the Dread Doctors, they took her.'' Suddenly wide awake, Scott let him in.

Pacing impatiently he walked trough the kitchen. ''Can you stop and take a seat?'' Scott was getting impatient. ''How did you know she was taken by the Dread Doctors?'' This was the moment to tell the truth. ''The reason why I knew so much about them was because I was working with them to get to you. The needed someone strong to pass their experiment and once I learned that Y/N was a perfect contestant I tried to win her trust and lead her to them but then I fell in love.''  

Scott walked over to Theo beyond pissed and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. ''If Stiles doesn't kill you after saving her, she will.'' Scott knew that the pack needed Theo alive in order to save me, he was useless dead.

He let go of Theo and walked upstairs most likely to get dressed and call the other. When Stiles heard the news about my disappearing he was furious. He had stormed into Scott's home looking for Theo, finding him in the kitchen. ''Stiles,'' he started but Stile didn't want to hear it and it him square in the face. ''You son of a bitch. I knew you were trouble and now MY girlfriend is missing because of you. I will kill you after we found her.'' Stiles was holding his fist, covered in Theo's blood. For a few minutes Theo had a broken nose which healed a little later.

Laying bound on the operation table, I waited for my faith to meet up with me. Three figurers were hovering over my body. One was holding a rather large injection needle. ''What are you gonna do with that.'' my voice was shaky.

The figurers didn't respond, two were holding me down while the third injected me with a silvery substance.  The liquid felt strangely warm, I could feel it spread to my body, flowing to the ends of my fingertips and toes.

However, it did burn in my face, my cheeks felt fiery and a silver haze cover my eyes, blinded by the liquid for who knows how long I started to hear voices. It started out as a scream but later tuned down to people talking.

Images started to form in my head, at first it felt surreal and a dream but soon I realized it was a memory in staid.  

''Oke Allison, now shoot the apple on my head, I trust you.'' I was looking at a young girl with a bow and arrow. She was nervous and her hands were shaky. ''But what if I hit you.'' she said, scared. ''You won't.'' I assured her. She took a deep breath and then released the string of her bow, launching the arrow trough the air, hitting the apple on my head. ''I told you, you could do it.''  

The scene disappeared and I entered a new one, in each memory there was the same girl, Allison, present. She was my sister, my little sister. Each memory got darker and darker until I remembered every thing.

Walking trough the gates of Oak Creek with the pack to save our best friend. Kira's mother was waiting for us, in the hope to stop is. She tolled us it wasn't our fight but hers. What she didn't realise was that when the Nogitsune took the form of our friend, my boyfriend, it became our fight too.

Scott and Stiles, the real one, ran inside looking for Lydia. She was taken by the Nogitsune and was now trapped. The Oni that she had with her for protection were sent to find the Nogitsune. Little did she knew he was one step ahead.

The Nogitsune had the last of her tail pieces. Once the Oni's where close he broke the tail piece, and they were no longer bound the miss Yukimura. The firefly that gave life to them went out and went up in smoke.

Holding out her hand to see what was going on, everyone, including me, looked puzzled. ''Mom?'' Kira asked worried. ''What is that?'' asked Isaac sensing there was something wrong. ''What does that mean?'' Was my follow-up question.

It was answered, but not by Miss Yukimura. ''It means, there is a change in ownership, now they belong to me.'' It was the Nogitsune, who still had the appearance of stiles. It was sickening to look at, knowing that the loving and familiar face was anything but.

The Oni were now standing behind him, waiting for his command to attack. Allison drew her arrow back and I drew my sword. With a twitch of the corner of his mouth he gave the sign. The Oni now attacked us.

Swords clanking and screams filled the night. Every one fighting one or more of the Oni. It wasn't looking good for us, we all had cuts all over our bodies, one by one we fell to the ground. One of them hovered over Isaac who was sitting on the ground, heavily injured. Allison shot the Oni and a moment later it exploded. She managed to kill one. She figured out how.

Every one was shocked even the Nogitsune. But our victory wasn't for long because right after another Oni pierced his sword into her stomach. A faint scream was heard from inside the building, it was the scream of a banshee.

I turned back around and saw the Oni withdraw his sword from my sister. ''No!'' I screamed as I slashed the Oni but before I could do any damage they all disappeared.

Scott exited the building and caught her before she could hit the ground. Minutes later she was gone. My legs gave in and I fell to the ground sobbing and screaming. Our dad just entered the premises, only to discover one of his daughters had died.

The same silvery haze covered my vision and soon I was back in the dirty room. My body hurt  like hell and it felt like things were growing. With a new-found strength I ripped the restraints that were holding me open and fell to the ground.

I could see my fingernails growing. Screaming out in pain I noticed my teeth growing as well, I now had fangs.

My car accident wasn't real, there wasn't even a car accident to begin with. After the death of my sister, I went completely haywire. I took my anger out on the supernatural, just because I failed as a sister. It was my job to protect her, it was my job to protect my little sister.

When the Deadpool started I fixated my whole life on stopping all the hunters and the very Deadpool itself, it nearly costed my life.  I dedicated my life to protect other packs and all other supernatural creatures. The cuts and bruises I sustained took a toll on my health, I was only human after all. It left me comatose in a hospital.

I tried to relax my body and change back into my human form. My head was pounding and the cold cement floor felt nice against my for head.

I was scared, I didn't know what to do and if I would ever get out of here. Left with mixed feelings about the two boys who were basically my boyfriends. I couldn't deny the feelings I had for Theo, but in reality I was still with Stiles.

Scott had gathered the pack,  they split in two groups. Theo led Stiles and Scott to the hide out from the Dread doctors while Liam and Hayden went looking for a way to spot Theo by using Kira's sword. But for their plan to work they needed Kira.

Taking yet another turn in the underground tunnels. ''Theo we have been walking for almost an hour, we already have searched this entire tunnel system, its not here.'' Stiles was getting even more agitated than he already was. ''Trust me it is here.'' Theo was looking for something on the walls.

It was a symbol of a snake that eat its own tail. ''Here. She is here.'' Theo stepped aside so the boys could see. ''And how do we get in there?'' Scott asked worried. ''We break down the wall if we have too.'' Stiles said and that was exactly what they were going to do.

Scott and Theo wolved out and started pounding on the walls. Cracks started to form in the stone wall and then broke apart, leaving a hole where they could walk trough.

Stiles was the first to run trough, looking for me. In panic, he looked over me on the ground and it was Theo who found me.  He placed his hands on my shoulders and in shock I jerked up. Afraid it was one of the Dread doctors.

Once I saw who it was my body allowed itself to relax. I flung my self in his arms, happy I was safe. ''You came.'' I whispered in his ear. ''I didn't come alone.'' he whispered back. I looked over his shoulder and saw Scott and Stiles.  

Letting go of Theo, I stood up and walked over to Stiles. Hugging him immediately. ''I remember.'' I said to him. ''Everything.'' The smile on my face could be heard in my voice.  ''You do?'' his voice was shaky. I pulled away from the embrace and looked at him nodding. Both happiness and sadness were visible on his face.

Theo didn't know where to look, so he just stood there. Scott was the first to speak up about him. ''Theo, why don't you tell why she is here.'' Confused I looked from Scott to Theo. ''What does he mean by that Theo?'' Theo looked at me scared, he was shaking slightly. ''Tell her Theo.'' It was now Stiles who spoke. ''Or I will.''

The situation was perplexed, I was waiting for someone to tell me what was going on. ''Theo?'' I asked again hoping he would say something, but he didn't. ''Theo has been working with the very same man who brought you here, it was his plan all along.'' It was Stiles who tolled the story, with a bitter tone. ''What?'' Tears started to fill my eyes but I ignored them.

Scott stepped forward and continued. ''Trying to be apart of my pack he gained certain information about you and your amnesia, he tried to use that in his advantage to turn you into a Chimera to.'' So that is what I was.

The tears made place for anger, emotion took over and my teeth started growing and my eyes lid a silvery blue. ''You did this to me!'' I screamed and showed him my claws. My words echoed trough the room. ''Yes. At first, it was my plan but then I fell in love. I tried to stop them from taking you that night at school, but they took you anyway'' he was now crying, I almost believed him.

The reality of him working for the Dread doctors was surreal. All this time that we were dating, he was looking for the perfect opportunity to hand me over to them, and he succeeded. ''I really thought that what ever we had been real, but all this time you had other plans for my future.'' my voice was shaky yet it was clear as ice.

With pleading eyes Theo looked at me. ''Please, babe,'' Immediately I interrupted him. ''You lost the right to call me that Theo.'' I could see the hurt in his eyes but I didn't care. Not any more.  ''You took advantage of me when I didn't even know who I was. We are over.'' I turned my back to him and walked to Stiles. ''I want go home.'' I whispered, while tears where filling my eyes.

I didn't want to care but I did. After all I did loved him. I was already heading toward the exit of the room. Eager to get out of here, all I wanted to do was forget this night.

On my way out to the tunnels Liam and Haydan come running toward us. ''Y/N! they found you!'' Both of them sounded relieved after seeing me walking. ''Yeah, they did.'' I said softly, while looking back. Noticing that the boys hadn't follow me out.  

Walking back to the room I was held captive in I came on to view with a new nightmare. Stiles was lying on the ground with a cut on his head and probably unconscious and Theo was in a fight with Scott.

Without thinking, I jumped between the two. ''What are you doing?!'' I shouted to Theo. ''If I can't be with you, I will follow my old plan to kill Scott and take his pack.'' There was something sinister in his voice, as if he became psychotic. ''If Scott dies I will take his place as pack leader and you will have to fight me too!'' I treated Theo, hoping to scare him off.

It did not scare him as much as I hoped it would.  ''If you survive the transmission.'' Taken back by what he said, I let his words sink in. If I survived, what did he mean by if.  

Liam and Hayden came running in with the sword still in hand. My guess was that he told Scott the new or already known plan while I kept Theo busy. ''If?! So there is a change I might die?'' With pain in his eyes he looked at me. ''Yes.'' The world seemed to spin around me, his words echoing in my head. ''If you've ever loved me, how could you let this happen to me?'' my voice was cracked and it hurt Theo in a way he never imagined it would.

I didn't notice that Scott was standing next to me. ''We know how to stop Theo.'' His words didn't make it to my acknowledgement. Carefully he grabbed my hand to bring me back to heart. ''Uh?'' I briefly looked at him.  ''We know how to stop Theo, go to Stiles.'' I simply nodded and walked over to Stiles who was now sitting on the ground with his head in his hands.

Kneeling besides him I placed my hand on his shoulder. He looked at me with blurry eyes. ''Are you oke?'' I asked him softly, not wanting to shout in case he had a concussion. ''Yeah.'' It sounded more like a sigh than a word.

For the plan to work, Liam tried to sneak up behind Theo. Only Theo was to smart and noticed. He wanted to attack Liam but Scott stopped him. A new fight between them arose, giving Liam time enough to get behind him.

From where I was sitting it looked like Scott was loosing. He got thrown across the room and landed next to Stiles and me.  ''He is too strong, we need to weaken him for this plan to work.'' Scott informed me. Both Scott and I stood up and walked to Theo, neither knowing each others plans.

Somehow it all started with me, so I was the one to end it for once and for all.  I couldn't save my sister, so I made sure I could save my friends. By a couple steps Scott walked in front of me. Just as Theo was about to lace out I extended my claws and jumped in the middle, digging my claws in his stomach.  

With my claws embedded in his stomach he looked at me, blood dripping from the wounds and a small stream from his lips. ''Why?'' He asked in tears. ''You used me, you manipulated me so it's only fair that you die by my hand. Enjoy your life in hell Theo.'' I pulled away my hand and Theo stumbled back clutching his stomach.  

That was Liam's cue to take action. He stabbed the sword into the ground opening up a portal. The floor cracked all the way to where Theo was standing. With one last look he fell. Theo was no longer.

When the portal disappeared I fell to my knees, feeling weak. My body was in pain and couldn't help but cough. In staid of blood or spit I coughed up a silvery substance. ''What is happening to me?'' Tears filling my eyes, I searched for Stiles.

He came rushing to my side. ''No no no.'' was all he said, clearly knowing what was going on. ''Scott you need to save her.'' Ignoring me, he looked pleadingly at his friend. ''It could kill her.'' Hurt was written all over his face. ''She is dying either way!'' Stiles was now shouting and tears were streaming down his face, I was about to die.

You could almost hear Scott think. ''What if she looses her memory again?'' as if that was the least of my problems. ''I will take that risk, and if that is the case then I will be there for her this time. We all will.'' Stiles looked around the room. All knowing that abandon me was the wrong thing to do and that they wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

My mind was running a mile an hour trying to process everything that was going on. The fact that I just killed Theo, that I was dying but there was a way to cure me with the change of dying.

Stiles who was now in tears begging Scott. ''Please Scott, I am not asking you to do this for me, but do this for her.'' Even Scott couldn't fight back the tears any more and gave in. ''Only if she wants it.'' Both boys were looking at me. ''Do it.'' I said hallow, it was a fifty-fifty chance, a gamble I was willing to make.

Nodding he took place next to me on the ground, gently grabbing my arm and rolling up my sleeve. ''It might hurt, a lot.'' Scott warned me. With my other hand I held Stiles'. Scott transformed into his alpha state and bit my arm. I expected it to hurt but it only stung a little. Nothing could have been more painful than what the Dread doctors had done to me.

The bite itself was quick, it was the process that took time. It felt like my body was on fire, similar to my transformation to a Chimera but this time it felt like a warm summers breeze in staid of walking trough a ring of fire.

For a second I felt weak, I felt like all the life was sucked out of me and I may have been dead for a second, but soon after I woke up with glowing yellow eyes.

The end! 

Thank you for reading, feel free to give feed back to help me to improve my future works

[skaryskylar]

Castor and Pollux

Pairing: BakuDeku, KatsuDeku

Type: One-Shot

Prompt: Twin Stars Week/Day 0-Ground Zero

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mild smut, Minor ShindoDeku, Minor BakuCamie, Angst, Characters Semi-Die, Manga Spoilers

Read on AO3

         He knew him the way a right hand knew the left. They were different, but the same. Connected. Mirror images born under the inverse of one another's stars.

So when Katsuki entered the world, it surprised no one that Izuku was only a stone's throw or two behind him.

   He was a crier. Not an angry crier, but a constant one. Tears ran hot and fat down his ruddy cheeks.  He would whine in tiny, stuttered gasps till his voice went hoarse. There was little that could appease him. When his mother would pull him to her breast to feed, he would turn away. The television scared him. The lights were too bright. The grass was too green. Mustafu was too polluted. The world too weary. Izuku hated it all.

(Perhaps that was why his father left. Maybe he couldn't handle the pressure of such a disagreeable child. His mother say his father was dead for the first couple years. It was only much later, lying on her death bed, that she would admit that he got up one night and never returned. It was first night he silently slept through.)

So when his mother dragged him to park, clearly at her wits' end with her frayed hair and tired eyes, he expected the worst. She thought the fresh air would do him some good, but as soon as his green eyes blinked open to the sky of violets and pinks of late afternoon, he opened his maw to begin his hourly wail.

"Oh, he's adorable! How many months is he?" This new voice was strong. Confident. The giant lady had a baby on her hip, towering over his own mother like Angel Gabriel over the mortal Mary.

'Be not afraid,' her stance said. 'For you have found favor with God.'

Tossing a winning smile his mother's way, she leaned over to peer down at his face, nuzzling his cheek with her index finger.

He did not fear her, but he didn't appreciate a stranger, god-sent or not, in the space he deemed his own. He opened his mouth once more.

"Five months." His mother replied, rocking him to keep him silent. She craved this. Human contact. To know another mother. To listen and be heard by someone who would finally understand.

"Ah! He's gonna start teething soon huh? This cheeky little guy started growing 'em out 4 months in. It was horrible. Katsuki! Say hi to this nice Auntie!"

She turned so they could see the tiny thing swaddled tight against her back. Even in his sleep, he fought, little fists raised by his nub of a nose, nuzzling into it.

Izuku gave a tentative gargle.

At his command, crimson eyes blinked open. They looked over each other. He took in the light blonde curls growing untamed at the edge of that wide forehead, the silent, steady gaze that considered him for only a moment, then decided he wasn't worth sacrificing sleep for, going blind once more to the weary ways of the world.

Izuku could not connect concepts and thoughts to words, but there was a feeling in his tiny chest, a lightness in his heart that could not go ignored.

Though he could not speak, he knew something must be said.

He laughed.

Wriggling in his mother's grip, he reached out for another pudgy hand to hold and he laughed and laughed and laughed.

           Izuku's first word was 'Kachha'  Katsuki's first word was 'No'. There was no greater way to sum up the first years of their friendship. Wherever Katsuki was, Izuku was not too far behind. He crawled while the other walked on unsteady feet, stumbled when the other was stable, and lagged behind when the other could run. But he still followed. His devotion was absolute.

He panted, watching licks of pink heels slip through low grass, kicking up dust in his wake.

"Kacchan! Wait! Wait for me!"

But it was as if he were speaking a different language. Kacchan was in a different world, eyes wide and bright with the promise of adventure as he ran and leapt over tree roots, crashing through brambles and bush, slipping through a rumbling brook with ease. He did not falter nor fade, bathed in gold from head to toe as the sun doused him in its favor.

Izuku had no such luck. His limbs were awkward on his body; his head too heavy for his spine to support. Nature did not part to make his path easy. Each step he took, each squelch of his toes in the mud below, was one made with great effort. He had to work twice as hard to cover even an inch of Kacchan's ground.

He pumped his legs till they burned, forced breath into his lungs till they threatened to burst. Sweat dripped down his face. His head swam and the taste of air on his tongue was bitter with pain. Still, he reached for the black t-shirt in front of him, fingers swaying as he pushed.

They would close on empty air, as they had many times before.

He could not touch Kacchan with his hands. There was a barrier between the two of them. The older boy was behind a veil, ascended to a level he had no hope to reach.

Divine, just as his mother. Blessed in a way Izuku was not.

A hand no longer pudgy slapped against the trunk of the great wisteria tree. Kacchan turned on him, pumping a fist in the air as he gave a roar of victory, purple petals dancing around him.

"I win again ZuZu! Try and catch up next time!"

Izuku would nod. He'd enthusiastically agree to race again tomorrow, knowing full well that the next day and the days following that would yield the same result.

On the walk home, he would stare at Kacchan's back, watching how the world bowed before their golden prince, how the ground would clear and birds sang his praises with their little chirps.

How Kacchan would take it all in with an arrogant smirk on his lips and expectation in his eye, ever the conqueror in his little kingdom.

Izuku would walk, and he would stare, and he would stumble, glowing the entire time at the prospect of just being near him.

Kacchan would walk on, pink slips of heel sprinting towards something in the distance. A place Izuku, in all his mortality, could never reach.

He followed anyway.

           Kacchan wasn't speaking to him. He wasn't sure what he did wrong. He went along with every request, worshipped at his feet, paid homage with All Might posters and his share of apple slices.

But as soon as Kacchan was able to wring fire from his hands, he burned.

His words were hot, quick and cutting to the core. His quirk was strong and vicious where Izuku's was absent. He could fly, Izuku realized a week after the sparks started. If he grew into it proper, Kacchan could shoot himself into the sky to join the others of his kind.

(The golden ones. Achilles. Perseus. Michael. Gabriel. Hercules. The divine ones. Katsuki would have his name nestled amongst theirs, and when he died, he would become the night's brightest crimson star.)

Kacchan wasn't speaking to him. Izuku was still loyal. He waited for him so they could walk home from classes together. He had to walk behind Kacchan and his new devotees, but he was there nonetheless.

Faithful. Stubborn. He would be the last one standing. He was sure of it.

He didn't speak because Kacchan didn't like it when he did, and he didn't want to be sent away.

"Honestly Deku." A new nickname he'd gotten. A symbol of his quirkless status. "Don't you have friends? Other people you can annoy?"

"W-W-We're f-friends Kacchan, aren't we?"

That would make the boy's face twist into something bitter. He clasped his lips tight into a thing line. Those other faceless kids-the sycophants- would try and speak for him. They'd ridicule Izuku till his eyes swam with tears and he shook with fear. Then the boys would grasp him by his clothes, ripping the already threadbare fabric, and shove him in the dirt while the girls laughed.

All the while, Katsuki would stand behind that veil, watching him cry and squirm with a look of indifference. The distance between them widened. Izuku knew it would get wider still.

He still followed.

           He wasn't talking to Kacchan. He couldn't walk with him after school anymore. Instead, he ran down to the beach. His legs were new-steady and stable-sprinting down concrete roads, kicking up dust with the soles of his sneakers. The roads cleared to allow him passage, traffic lights unable to catch him in the red. The air in his mouth was sweet, winds whipping at his face as he ripped through town, down to the sandy hills of the beach.

A familiar tall skinny figure was waiting for him at the shore.

"Hey!" He yelled with a wave. The thrum of One for All was electric in his arm. "I got in! I got in All Mi- uh, Master! I got in! I'm going to UA!!!"

The letter in his hand was proof of it. He approached the giant, grinning from ear to ear when blue eyes turned down to look at him.

"I got in!" He said through his tears. "I'm gonna be a hero!"

"Midoriya, my boy, with determination like that there was never any doubt."

When All Might pulled him into a hug, his skin didn't burn. There was no barrier between him and the Symbol of Peace. They stood on the same ground, the cool tide washing over bare feet, tickling their ankles.

One for All was a comforting presence, constantly running through his body, taking refuge by his soul, assuring him of his place amongst the immortal. There were ghosts in this presence, voices still raspy with sleep, with some still refusing rousing from their slumber to join the cacophony. He couldn't decipher them past the main feminine chimes, but he would learn.

He had all the time in the world after all.

He was golden, on that shore, a light in the wake of the setting sun.

           He wasn't talking to Kacchan, but he was watching him. Had been watching him from childhood. There was not a day he remembered without the boy's silhouette burnt into the glow of day.

But there was something different about these glances. They were longer for one; his eyes could roam for hours on end, drinking in every detail, every curve, drunk on them as if they were sweet ambrosia. He started noticing things. Had his shoulders always been that broad? He could fit both his hands on one alone. Kacchan had grown into himself. That large forehead was controlled under wild spikes of blonde hair, the fine hairs rough and unshakable where the tufts had once been soft and curled, easily swept by the wind.

The slope of his neck was an elegant curve, contrary to the breadth of it. The typical vein that betrayed annoyance was absent as he listened to Aizawa's lecture. The tan from the hot sun lingered, summer freckles only just beginning to fade. He tried to spot each one.

(He had to get the notes from Ochako later.)

It was worse when it came to hero training. Kacchan's suit was tight. It clung to each muscle if not leaving them bare. Each ripple, hill and valley emphasized in a black dark as night. Izuku would stare, blaming his distractedness on 'a study of a powerful quirk' when each time he just wanted to see the muscle of a bicep shift before an explosion. How his abs would clench before a powerful burst of explosions for flight. The wild grin on his handsome face as he weaved through the air, taking himself to new heights others didn't dare venture.

He looked until his eyes were sore. He observed and studied even as others called him out on it, teasing him about a 'childhood crush'. He watched till he could recognize Kacchan by the curve of his jaw alone.

Kacchan didn't look back.

           Someone was watching him. Izuku could sense it. He was a hero-in-training after all. Detecting something as simple as that was instinctive.

           Rising from where he bent over the file cabinet, he cast a surreptitious look around the office.  There weren't many interns in Miruko's office. She only started taking on her 'little kits' when she was injured after a fearsome encounter with Nomus, back in his first year. She ran a tight, fast-paced burrow, and only took on the best of the best. It took him two years to build up the resume to snag this opportunity, and that was even after he was noted for his work in the final battle against the PLF. There were few who walked through the same halls as him, as Miruko preferred a small elite team over a sprawling agency. 'The Warren' they called it, nestled in the heart of the city, underground and out of sight.

     Hawks came to visit sometimes. He liked to play pranks, sweep in to cause a little chaos and sweep back out again. But this didn't feel like one of the pro-hero's mischievous glances. This was somewhat more...heated.  He glanced about, but only saw the other staff scheduled for the day.  Yui was typing away at her computer.  Ochako was in Miruko's office. Which left...

Yo Shindo. Not an intern but full on side-kick. He was already set to breach the top 100 not even two years after he graduated. He didn't see the man often, but enough that they had a friendly repertoire.

Catching his gaze, the other man dropped his, falling back to his work with a renewed focus.

Strange.

The incident passed, but there were more like it. He would catch Yo's eyes from over the meeting table, feel an ankle rub against his beneath it. In the locker rooms, the man never strayed too far, always offering to 'help'  Izuku with his suit.

    It came to a head when they were put on patrol together. It was nearing midnight, almost time for Izuku to return to the dorms and for Yo to go back to wherever he was living. They kept up easy conversation in between stopping various petty crimes. The other man was oddly intense whenever Izuku spoke. He would stare, dark eyes unreadable, as Izuku went on his rants. Always silent. Always respectful. As if he cared about what Izuku had to say, craved to hear his rambling voice breaking through the night.

Till one moment, he was pulling Izuku into a dark alley and kissing him. It was slow, chaste. Izuku could push him away at any time if he wanted.

But he was curious. Looping his arms around Yo's neck, he kissed back, letting his lips fall open and accepting a gentle tongue.

He thought kisses were like fireworks. He wanted the excitement. The flame. The quick, confident plunge into the unknown and danger of falling.

This one had no fire. Izuku was not burned, he was held. This was was slow, stable. It tasted nothing like smoke and ash, but of fresh mint. He smelled the rain coming before it hit, relishing the calming scent of the earth, pattering of droplets against rooftops masking the shuddered exhale of breath as his curls fell flat, damp against his skin.

It was not what he expected, nor what he particularly wanted.

But it was fine. Fun, even.

    So when it happened again, he didn't resist. They started to make a game of it. They would sneak into abandoned alleys at the end of patrols, pawing at each other till Izuku had to run for curfew. Eventually they upgraded to the closet room, then the locker room, that one time in Miruko's office when she was out to a meeting with Endeavor. They grew more and more daring till Izuku found himself breathless on the floor of the staff room, lips swollen and red, a throbbing ache distracting him from all other thoughts.

"Wanna go on a date?"

He spluttered, because surely he misheard.

Make no mistake. Yo Shindou wasn't golden like he was. He did not wring fire from his hands nor did the masses part at the sound of his approaching feet.

But he was still born with favor. Izuku had to fight to get a blessing bestowed onto him. There was no way-.

"You can say no, if you want to. I just...I haven't felt like this since Tatami and I broke up and you...You seem like you'll be good for me. Stable. I want that."

Stability? Isn't that what everyone wanted? Is that what he wanted?

Would he ever get a chance like this again?

Shoving down the instinctive 'no', Izuku smiled, taking the man's larger hand into his own.

           Their dates were by the book. Dinner and a movie. Izuku chose. Yo didn't complain when they sat through the corny romantic comedy; he only ate his popcorn, snickering at the corny jokes.

Picnic under the stars. When they raced barefoot through the prairie, wildflowers crushed beneath their toes, Izuku was the first to smack the trunk of an oak tree. He roared in laughter when Yo caught him by the waist, twisting him around till his back was to the wood, soft lips pressed against every inch of skin he could reach.

They were the same size, he realized dazedly. He didn't have to lean up to kiss him. Their grips were equal in strength. They stood on the same ground, soil bending beneath their feet.

Strange, he thought, shutting his eyes. When had that happened?

"Do you want to come in?" He asked one night, heart thumping in his chest. He chewed on his lower lip as soon as he asked, licking over bite marks given earlier by teeth sharper than his own.  The answering kiss told him all he needed to know.

           Sex was a fumbling of lips, limbs, tongues and teeth. The sheets were the only thing to muffle their sounds, that and the locked door. He panted, relishing the burn of his lungs and tight coil in his core. It was awkward sure. They tried to figure out who went where, what felt good and what made one another uncomfortable. But they managed eventually, setting an easy pace, locked in a stable embrace.          

But with each thrust, all Izuku could think of was crimson eyes staring up at him. The shoulders his hands were clutching should've been wider. There was a fire missing. He was too comfortable.

(He was bored.)

He shoved the traitorous thought to back of his mind, brushing his nose against the tip of the other man's as Yo came with a breathy sigh, hot spurts coating their skin, friction between them slick.

It took him another couple minutes. He had to adjust, flipping the other man around so he didn't have to see his face, bracing an arm against his back as he thrust into the tight, smooth heat.

(He pretended the hair gripped in his hand was a platinum blonde and that breathy sighs were muttered curses.)

He saw stars when he peaked. They exploded behind his eyelids, a stunning burst of red and gold against the dark.

"Fuck, that was good." Yo said, falling to the mattress. Izuku didn't trust himself to reply. He was a gentleman though. He walked the other man back to the gates, seeing him off with the promise of another date. He waved as the older man hopped onto his motorbike, revving down the road till he turned a corner.

Then his skin began to tingle.

Someone was watching him.

He turned from the iron bars of the gate to find red eyes, narrowed in their fury. Slowly, Izuku's hand fell to his side.

"You two could've been quieter." Katsuki said. His face burst into flames as he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. (It didn't. Maybe if Kacchan asked, it would.)

"S-Sorry," he managed to mutter through his embarrassment. Their relationship had improved after their first year. The secret of One for All between them had strengthened their bond. Katsuki's heartfelt apology in their second year had done ever more, but they weren't at a level where he was comfortable with sharing that kind of intimacy. Being floor-mates couldn't have proven to be more awkward. Cursing the thin walls, he made as if to walk away, when Katsuki grabbed him by the arm.

"Spar with me."

"It's 1 am."

An arrogant smirk. Teeth bleach white.

"You scared of getting caught?"

           The challenge had him take off in a run to Ground Beta. One for All hummed through him, making his limbs light as feathers as he sprang through the air, too quick for the surveillance cams.

But Kacchan had always been the quickest. His arms stuck out, tiny, controlled explosions crackling from his hands propelling him forward, past Izuku into the looming darkness beyond.

They started as they always did. Quirkless.

Simple hand to hand combat. They were on equal footing here, blocking and dodging each other's attacks with an almost languid ease. It was more for Katsuki's benefit than Izuku's. He needed to work up a sweat to use his quirk properly. He pretended not to realize when they agreed to the terms long ago, scrabbling for any interaction he could get.

Izuku was careful. He knew the body before him. He had studied it for years on end. He knew which twitch of his left forearm meant an uppercut and which meant a feint. He could see his kicks coming from miles away, blocking each attack with palm, elbow and thigh.

He was beautiful like this, but when his quirk sparked up, when his golden head was surrounded with a crown of red, was when he was striking.  His arms tensed, skin smooth over taut muscle, swinging in blazing arcs before unleashing a flurry. Izuku blocked as best as he could.

But Kacchan was quick, quick, quick.

It could've taken twenty minutes or an hour. Either way the results would be the same. Katsuki had him on his back, hands hoisted in a tight grip atop his head, with firm thighs on either side of his waist.

The whisper was low, vicious and full of heat.

"Is this how he fucked you?"

"...What?"

           Then greedy, jealous lips descended upon his own, and there were fireworks. They bit and claimed, hot, vicious tongue plunging to search every inch of his mouth. His skin burned with each place Katsuki touched, torching his lips till they were numb, hanging open limply as he was taken in a way that was anything but chaste.

He moaned. Katsuki froze. Getting up, the man wiped spit from his mouth, and shook off Izuku's outstretched hand.

He walked away, steps echoing in the night.

They never spoke about it again.

           Graduation happened on a sunny day. Principal Nezu handed him his diploma with an affectionate pat on his hand. He gave Aizawa a hug, lifting the man from the ground, before he ran off the stage, the teacher glaring daggers at his back.

It was a wondrous affair. He cried no less than three times. Each and every time there was someone there to hold him.

The first was his mother. It was a bit of a mess because she was crying too. The others gave them a wide berth as they just sobbed into each other's arms, making fountains out of their tears. All Might held onto their shoulders to stop them from causing a scene but ended up crying himself.

The second was with Eri and Kota. They approached him, thick red sneakers on their feet, hoisting up a huge cardboard cut-out of his face. He couldn't help but laughs, sobs interjecting between, bringing them both into an embrace as they wished him success as a pro.

"When you're Number 1, I'll be able to say that I knew you!" Eri said excitedly.

"Don't suck." Kota groused.

Aizawa and Hizashi had to physically remove them from his grip so others could get to him.

The third was the Deku Squad, because the people he entered this journey with were the same he wanted to end it with. Ochako was soft in his arms as he clutched her close. She was tiny. Three heads shorter than him, along with Aoyama and Tsuyu. Even Shoto was only up to his chin. Iida was the closest, reaching his ear, but there was no mistake. Izuku had grown to be the tallest of the bunch. Laughing at the revelation, he gathered all of them close, hoisting them into the air as they shrieked in surprise. Aoyama was the first to laugh, turning himself into a dazzling ball of light in his white graduation gown, drawing the attention of the room, including a certain surly graduate.

           Izuku blinked as red eyes met his from across the way. Katsuki said nothing, but offered a solemn nod.  Amusement tempered, he offered the same back.

(The week he and Shindo broke up. Katsuki got together with a girl from Shiketsu. No matter how hard he reached, he could never catch up.)

           Their final night in the dorms was a huge party. They drank till some were vomiting in the bathroom, friends holding their hair back. Izuku was dragged into quite a few dances, holding each partner a respectable distance away as they moved to the beat.

Katsuki stood in the corner, body still as a statue but eyes constantly flashing from place to palace, watchful and wary despite the drink in his hand. He wasn't sure what possessed him to walk up there. The man watches his approach with careful eyes. Intense, leering, daring him to pose a challenge.  Izuku didn't let his gait slow.

"Congratulations Kacchan! I'm excited to see what you do after graduation! Maybe we'll be able to work together in the field?"

The final word lilted into question. He reached out to affectionately grip the man's bicep like a fool. He could feel his fingertips heat up, skin threatening to melt like wax wings ventured too close to the sun.

Katsuki saved him from himself, leaning back before contact could be made. With an arched brow and a smirk, he sent Izuku tumbling back to earth.

"Don't try and compete with me nerd. You'll end up disappointed."

Izuku knew. He had tried and faced disappointment countless times before. He couldn't surpass Katsuki if he couldn't catch him in the first place.

He swallowed his bitter smile, nodded a friendly goodbye, then meandered back to the couch, clutching a bottle of vodka like a lifeline. The party passed by in a blur of color and noise. He smiled at each face that looked to him pityingly, pulling out the brightest of his smiles for those who asked questions.

It's not until Mina dropped over the side of the couch that he finally got a chance to truly grin. She sidled in real close, whispered a brilliant idea in his ear, and watched as his face filled with wonder.

"Deku and Ground Zero of 1A Hero Agency are on the scene!"

He knew Katsuki's back like he knew his own hand. He could recognize the man by the curve of his hip if not the burst of flame in his hands as he rocketed ahead.

(Quick. Quick. Quick.)

"The Twin Stars!"

He could smell the sweet nitroglycerin on the air, practically taste it in his mouth.

(He craved it. He knew where the smell would be sweetest: at the junction where a pierced earlobe met strong jaw...his tongue knew the spot all too well...his teeth had tattooed heir mark onto the skin.)

"The Wonder Duo!"

           The villain made her first mistake when she thought she could outmaneuver them. She stopped short, grinning when Katsuki flew past her.  The silver tip of her bisento swung through the air before she slammed the hilt into the ground, sending quakes through the Earth. Izuku leapt up, legs hiking up as his hands went down.

("We're rabbits, you and I," Miruko once said. "We must be strong, quick, and full of tricks.")

Quick. Quick. Quick.

He had his paws on her before she could slither through the earth to make her escape. Ignoring her screams, he ripped the weapon from her grip then launched her up into the air, where Katsuki was already waiting with a powerful kick that sent the villain flying up higher. Total knock out. It had to be. But there needed to be an arrest. Black whips burst from his outstretched hand, binding her in the mid-air as Katsuki went in with the handcuffs.

"Another successful capture by Japan's #1 Hero Duo. Is there anything our boys can't do?"

           He'd gotten used to the flashing cameras and roar of the crowd by now. They were focused on their task, delivering the villain to the awaiting police unit, before taking the customary photos with fans and giving out autographs. Katsuki's warmth was a constant at his side, persistent.

They stood as equals on the ground. When they walked, their steps were in sync. He wasn't sure quite when it happened-.

No.

No, that was a lie.

He knew when it happened and what brought it on. Camie, that girl from Shiketsu, was the one that talked Katsuki down, that brought him down to earth to learn to walk as the mortals did. She was the one that led him through the pearly gates of therapy and drove him back home again.

(Why was it her? What power did she have that Izuku didn't? She wasn't golden. Not by a long shot.)

He was grateful for it all the same. It was the only thing that allowed their relationship to fully mend, to grow as strong as it did. They had an understanding of one another than no one in the world could ever hope to compete with.

It was with this understanding, that he knew when Katsuki was over the situation and entirely ready to leave. He made up excuses for their early departure when the blond caught his arm, tugging insistently. He went with Katsuki through the air, leaping from roof-top to roof-top under the cover of night. Red eyes were keen, sharp as a bird as it fixated on the streets below.

Till they found an abandoned alleyway and Katsuki forced their descent.

Hands were ripping at his suit before they even hit the ground. There was a mouth on his, mashing his lips till they separated and a hot tongue tried to plunge down his throat.

Gauntlets hitting the ground were a distant thud compared to the roaring in his ears.

This part? This was the change Izuku could mark. He could tell you the date and time they started doing this, what the position the moon was in the sky, the exact temperature of that night. It was the best day of his life, after all.

           Katsuki kissed like he fought. With power, demanding control over the situation with hands strategically placed on Izuku's jaw and the curve of his ass. Ravenous, taking already-swelling lips between his teeth, sucking long and hard.

With speed. He moved so fast, Izuku could only hold on for the ride and hope he made it out with all his wits. There was a knee between his thighs that wasn't there a second ago, fingers that had him squirming in the rush of stimulation.

Quick. Quick. Quick. Katsuki was always so quick.

           There were lips on the corner of his mouth, his jaw, the budding bone of his clavicle. Katsuki's hand were hot. The warmth seeped through even through his uniform as expert fingers knew which zippers to snatch and buttons to press to ensure Izuku was bare-backed against the rough stone of the wall.

Calloused hands wrapped around his arousal, tugging him at a vicious pace. Unrelenting and unforgiving, Katsuki twisted his fist in a vicious pace before clenching the base.

Then he went on his knees and took Izuku into the thick, wet, heat of his mouth.

           He was good at this, much like he was at everything else he tried.  He couldn't even bring himself to be jealous, grabbing the man by the jaw as he lost himself to the thrill of the moment, arousal fighting the fear of getting caught till he came with a short, shallow gasp, hands wrapped into soft blonde tufts tightening as Katsuki swallowed.

He wanted to return the favor, but just as he moved to do so-,

"Never fear for I am here!"

They sprung apart. Izuku scrambled to answer his phone, looking away from Katsuki's eyes as he swiped to answer.

"Zuku?"

"What's going on Eri?"

"We need you back at the agency. Remember the Kumamoto incident? Mina found the insurance bill."

He cringed. Hard. He hid it under his desk hoping he could soften the blow when it had to be dealt. Thanking his intern, he ended the call, pushed the phone back into his pocket, and chanced a glance up.

The heat in Katsuki's eyes nearly persuaded him, but then the other man smirked, long and full of promise, before leaning up to whisper in his ear,

"See you at home Hero."

He followed the trail of red blasts till they were small, twin stars in the sky.

           There came a day when Katsuki began to slow. His explosions sputtered from his hands. It took longer for him to get a sweat worked up. His reaction time wasn't as quick nor his temper as blazing.

Izuku watched as he always did, as the man set his sights ever-forward towards the unknown.

But Katsuki no longer had to reach out towards the horizon. The darkness of the unknown came to meet him.

Izuku took him by the hand, pressing a kiss to the cold palm, to the still blue veins at the wrist. Then to the lips that no longer seized him in their storm, clammy and motionless no matter how hard he mashed his own against their plump curve.

Katsuki was always running ahead of him. He could never catch up. There was time-a golden age when they were in their prime-that the other man slowed to let Izuku walk at his side.

He could never truly catch up unless Katsuki wanted him to.

It was about time he accepted it. Tears slipping down his cheeks, he let the man he loved go, watched him run into the distance, pinks slips of his heels sprinting to a place he in all his immortality could not reach.

           He wept. He cried till his chest felt ready to split open from grief. He wept till his throat was hoarse, long suffering moans ripping through his maw as he cursed death, the divine, god and his angels, the fates. Any being that could be blamed for ripping the earth from under his feet, for thrusting the brightest red star to the night sky without his consent, leaving him down below to watch with the rest of the common-folk, unable to touch for fear of being burned.

He did not fade as Katsuki did. His steps never faltered nor did his muscle denigrate. His hair was ever-green and his gaze bright.

But he could choose to abandon it all. The thrum of One for All had grown to be a comfort. He turned to it one night in his bed, prodding at the lingering remnants who fell before him till they roused from their endless sleep. Then he spoke his request,

"He waits for me."

"The world is in your hands and you would give it all up?"

"For him? Always."

           He did not doubt. He hadn't done so in a while. They knew this. So as soon as the final hiss left his lips, he was gone.  The last embers of the immortal quirk blew out in the winds of death, and miles away a brighter fire received more tinder.

           Izuku struggled to find his place amongst the night sky. He stumbled and inched his way through the constellations. He wanted to run- maybe he could catch up even after all this time-but he was afraid. One slip and he would fall through the darkness, out of the domain of the divine into the pits below.

Suddenly, all he could see was red and gold. A hand gripped his arm tight.

"You could never catch up could you Zuzu?"

He clutched back. The skin beneath his did not burn.

They settled in their place, the brightest amongst all the stars. Fingers clasped together. Divine. Eternal. Effervescent.

[timeagainreviews]

Are you there Xoanon? It’s me, Leela.

At the time of writing this article, many of you will have in your possession the season 14 Blu-Ray box set for Doctor Who. Within it are classics like "The Deadly Assassin," "The Robots of Death," and the controversial, but still much loved "The Talons of Weng-Chiang." However, today I would like to talk about an often overlooked gem in the form of "The Face of Evil." While the serial does introduce the companion Leela and showcases some classic Fourth Doctor moments, it has also received a fair bit of ire from certain fans over the years. I’ve found myself defending it in the past, to people whose opinions I value. My hope is that by the end of this review, some of you may come away with a new appreciation for what is one of my favourite classic Doctor Who stories.

For a little bit of background, when devising the character of Leela, producer Philip Hinchcliffe and script editor Robert Holmes were looking to do something new with the companion. They wanted a female lead that could also do heroics. The initial concept for Leela was a mix of Eliza Doolittle, Emma Peel,  and Loana from "One Million Years B.C." The decision to make the companion more of an action star was one that was met with resistance from Tom Baker, who in this humble writer’s opinion would have been happiest acting alongside a sock puppet. While he claimed not to like the violence of Leela, I often wonder if it wasn’t because such a dashing co-star would pull focus from the main event- the Doctor.

The writer tasked with bringing Leela to life was Chris Boucher, an avowed atheist. And remember this fact, as it will remain relevant throughout this entire review. Right away, Boucher’s knack for comprehensive dialogue is laid out as we meet Leela, a young tribal woman, being cast out by the rest of her tribe, the Sevateem, for heresy. However, it is her own father that offers to take her place in the "test." Leela’s tone changes from defiance to pleas of mercy for the life of her feeble, but proud father. Right away we’re struck with a series of science fiction tropes, and it’s one wonderful pulpy delight after another. Also telling is the presence of anachronistic technology. Such as the gasket turned into a chest-piece adorning the tribe’s local zealot and shaman- Neeva.

In his element, the Doctor arrives at this frontier world by himself. However, as much as Baker would have relished travelling solo, it becomes immediately apparent why this would be a bad idea. Having no companion to sound off with, he resorts to directing his comments toward you and I, the audience. While I love the Fourth Doctor and his penchant for breaking the fourth wall, it’s not a sustainable recipe for good storytelling. The Doctor needs a companion, if for no other reason than to have someone to explain the plot to.

The Doctor walks through this wilderness without a care in the world as little critters scurry past in a Star Wars or Dark Crystal fashion. It reminded me of moments like when the First Doctor and his companions come across petrified creatures on the surface of Skaro. I wish modern Doctor Who would do more of this- tiny creatures that have no greater bearing on the storyline other than world-building. Leela, having been exiled finds herself walking deep into the jungle. However, it seems that exile wasn’t enough, as she soon finds herself being hunted by her former tribesmen. It would appear that allowing her form of heresy to live is not something Neeva, or his god "Xoanon," are willing to let happen.

Leela dispatches one of her would-be assassins, while another is taken care of by a sympathetic friend named Tomas, who followed the killers after overhearing Neeva’s scheme. While they never touch on it, I wonder if Tomas didn’t have feelings for Leela. It would make sense as she is fierce, intelligent, beautiful, and around the same age as him. Had things gone differently, perhaps they could have had a life together. However, Leela is past the point of no return, and his boyish crush. She pridefully tells him to turn back but warns him not to trust Calib, a man she sees as having more ambition than sense.

Leela walks past what is known by the Sevateem as a great protective barrier. Finding herself pursued by invisible monsters, she runs for her life but falls to the ground at the feet of a man unknown to her. Upon following her gaze up to the feet’s owner, she is shocked and terrified to see the Doctor, a face she of which she is surprisingly familiar.  Despite the fact that the Doctor resembles the "Evil One," the Sevateem’s own version of Satan, Leela doesn’t know what to make of his friendly demeanour. This is a moment of great internal conflict for her as only a few scenes ago she was telling her tribal leaders that their god Xoanon was a lie. Now here she stands, looking the devil in the face and he’s offering her sweets.

I’ve always maintained that the story arc for Leela is one of atheism but in the most Doctor Who of manners. Much in the same way that the Doctor will go into a haunted house and prove that it’s actually an ancient alien force, the show has widely maintained the stance that the spiritual is just science we don’t yet understand. Leela’s first lesson comes in the form of the Doctor deftly dealing with their invisible predator. After discovering that a protective boundary is a machine that projects a sonic disruption, the Doctor deduces that the creatures must be blind and sense things by vibration. Using an egg timer, the Doctor distracts the monsters, while he and Leela make a break for it. It’s a great special effect, as even now I can’t figure out how they managed to crush a clock with what looks like nothing.

Back with the tribe, we learn that Neeva speaks with Xoanon through a transmitter that he believes is a magic relic that allows only the holiest to speak to God. Xoanon commands Neeva to go to war with their enemies the Tesh. But the chief of the Sevateem, Andor, wonders why their God would have them go into battle on empty stomachs. A reasonable concern which is met by Neeva’s assertion that Xoanon will feed those of true faith. The tribe gears up for war, but on their way past the boundary, discover the Doctor.

The men shoot a couple of warning shots across the Doctor’s brow, embedding themselves into a tree. While the men deal with the fact that they are now looking eye to eye with their version of the Devil, Leela slips away. Upon seeing the Doctor, the men do a sort of "Sign of the Cross," gesture with their hands touching their neck, their shoulder and their waist. The Doctor notes this is interesting as it’s also the method one would use to check the seals on a spacesuit. Using his newfound infamy to his advantage, the Doctor holds one of the tribesmen hostages with a "deadly," Jelly Baby. But the men call his bluff and the Doctor is taken to meet Neeva and Andor.

Seeing this as an opportunity to prove their faith, Neeva declares they should kill the Doctor without haste. However, Calib, an atheist in his own right, sees this as an opportunity to make Neeva look bad in front of the whole tribe. He suggests they put the Doctor through the "test." Knowing that if the Doctor dies, it will prove that he wasn’t a god, and if he lives, Neeva will look just as bad, as the belief is that only mortals can survive the test.

Knowing her father to have died from this test, an eavesdropping Leela sneaks her way in to stop the Doctor from being killed. Leela uses local Janis thorns on one of the captors, paralysing him in a rigid posture with no hope of revival. The Doctor is appalled by this and commands her never to use Janis thorns ever again. After making a break for it, the Doctor and Leela make it past the boundary where the Doctor learns why his face is so infamous. Out across the horizon sits a giant mountain with his own visage carved into its precipice.

Meanwhile, the rest of the warriors continue toward the mountain for their attack. I was genuinely surprised as I had never noticed the inclusion of a single female warrior with black braids in her hair. Initially, I had thought Leela was the only female in the entire story, but there comes braids looking like a badass. I instantly want to know more about her and to see her in extended media. Sadly, braids and a bunch of other Sevateem are cut down by beams of light before they can meet the impenetrable time barrier. Clearly, something about this was a trap put on by Xoanon, but why?

The Doctor decides that the only way to understand what is happening is by going back to the tribe, despite the death sentence. Upon returning, most of the camp is still deserted, allowing him and Leela a chance to snoop around. Upon discovering the room of "relics," kept by Neeva, the Doctor reveals them to be nothing more than the scientific instruments of the human colonists from whom the Sevateem and Tesh descend. The Doctor finds the helmet Neeva uses to speak to Xoanon and realises that Xoanon speaks with his own voice. Furthermore, Xoanon seems to think the Doctor and he are one.

Being one of the first to return from battle, Calib discovers the Doctor and Leela. Afraid they will ruin his plans to make Neeva look a fool, he poisons Leela with a Janis thorn. With little time, the Doctor demonstrates to Calib that the equipment they've been worshipping for years is actually capable or analysing and concocting a cure for Janis thorn poison. Leela is revived but slightly incapacitated, which makes her and the Doctor easy to capture when more, including Neeva, return from battle.

Now, remember the little critter I mentioned earlier? Well, it would appear that they're a carnivorous bunch known as the horda. Much like piranhas, they are able to strip a body of its flesh when in large numbers. The Doctor is made to stand above a pit of them while a rock tied to a rope slowly lowers, opening the pit more and more with every inch. Leela tries to give the Doctor a pointer, which causes one of the Sevateem to strike her. The Doctor's response is to kick a horda at him which causes him to run in fear. I mention this because any time the Doctor is violent is cause to pause.

One of the things I find irritating with modern Doctor Who is the insistence that the Doctor is never violent. The Third Doctor used Venusian Aikido. The Fourth Doctor practically breaks a guy's neck in "The Seeds of Doom." Hell, even in modern Doctor Who we see it. Like when the Ninth Doctor punched that guy, or when the Twelfth Doctor punched that guy. Or how about the Eleventh Doctor teleporting a bomb onto Solomon's ship in "Dinosaurs on a Spaceship," written by Chris "I don't understand the Doctor's morality" Chibnall? My point is, that the Doctor isn't violent unless he needs to be. The Doctor is non-violent up until the point where either A) it's the only option left, or B) he's mad. In this case, it's B, he's mad.

What does it mean that the Doctor chose this moment to break his rule? I would venture to say he was punishing unnecessary cruelty in kind. But think even more about the theme of the episode. At this moment, the Doctor's morality isn't what's in question, it's his mortality. It's as if Boucher is taking this moment to compare the actions of a man to the expectations of a god. Before the Doctor shoots the rope with perfect precision, he's revealed himself to be a person subject to the whims of his own emotions. In this way, Boucher is asking the viewer to look at the vengeful nature of our own gods and to see the inherent humanity entangled within. Or in the Doctor's own words- "You can't expect perfection, even from me!"

With the Doctor somewhat exonerated by being able to pass this asinine test, he is given a bit more freedom to move about. But this doesn't mean an end to the unrest. The Doctor reveals that the Sevateem are actually descendants of a survey team (creating a portmanteau), and heads back to the mountain to discover the secrets of the Tesh. Meanwhile, Xoanon removes the barrier surrounding the Sevateem, allowing the invisible creatures free roam to terrorise the simple tribe. The Sevateem are quickly overtaken by invisible beings, which kill Andor and many others. The Doctor takes his leave to climb up the mountain into his own face.

The Doctor discovers a spacesuited man within the mouth of the carving. He also discovers a derelict rocket for the Mordee expedition. It's about this time that the Doctor begins to remember having come to this planet in the past. In an attempt to fix the AI, Xoanon, the Doctor linked his mind. Only instead of repairing it, he created a duality that drove the AI to madness. Thus creating a desire in Xoanon to reconcile these two aspects in itself. Its solution for this quandary was to influence the two groups of humans into two very different evolutions and see who would come out on top. The primitive yet cunning Sevateem, or the brilliant yet passionless Tesh?

At this point, the story takes a somewhat extreme turn as the Tesh are found to be rather advanced in every way by comparison to the Sevateem. The Tesh, being descendants of the technicians of the colonists, are more intelligent. They dress like the Great Gazoo if he went through a harlequin phase. They caper and cavort about in an almost jovial sense, but their belief in Xoanon is no less zealous than their primitive counterparts. They seem peaceful at first until the Doctor discovers they plan to atomise Leela. After showing his disapproval, the Tesh turn on the Doctor, subduing him with their mental powers which looks a lot like staring super hard at the guy until he collapses.

I absolutely love that with two reviews in a row I'm able to talk about two separate James Bond type laser scenes where our heroes are incapacitated in some way and are forced to escape the laser with a mirror. This isn't me calling out the show for overusing a trope. There were eleven years between these two episodes, and it's completely by chance that I decided to review them back to back, but how funny is that? And their titles both have to do with faces! I swear I didn't plan this.

As I said, the Doctor and Leela escape with a simple mirror. The Doctor uses the technology to imitate Xonanon and communicate with Neeva. However, Neeva surprises the Doctor when he calls the Doctor by name, showing that even the most fanatical is not so forgone as to be unreachable. The Doctor tells Neeva to instruct Calib to lead the men to the mouth of the mountain where the invisible beings cannot reach. Soon, the Doctor and Leela find themselves running from the Tesh through corridors. It's classic Doctor Who with the bad guys giving chase through endless corridors which are actually the same corridor. After a scuffle, the Doctor once more is forced to use violence as one of the Tesh comes at him and gets kicked into an electrified wall. The Doctor notes that the man appeared to be hypnotised, as if under the influence of Xoanon.

Leela is given a laser gun to fight off the Tesh, which I find to be the perfect metaphor for this entire story. The cave girl gives up her crossbow for a laser gun. It is as if her transition from a primitive to the scientist is coming full circle. It's as though she is claiming the birthright of her ancestors. She's gone from a person questioning her faith, to a person functioning within this new paradigm. Even though she still finds herself cowering when she hears the supposed voice of God, her confidence is growing. 

Leela continues trading fire with the Tesh, while the Doctor seeks out Xoanon within the "Sacred Heart," a large computer complex. An array of large screens project the Doctor's face. But as the Doctor enters the room, Xonanon experiences an identity crisis, causing it to repeat the question "Who am I?" The panic creates a psychic assault on the Doctor, causing him to drop to the ground. As the question repeats, Xoanon's voice fluctuates between the Doctor, a man, a woman, and a child. The child's voice is a particularly chilling juxtaposition with the Doctor's frantic orange face screaming in a panicked frenzy. Fun fact: the child's voice is provided by Anthony Frieze who won a competition at his local school to be in the episode. For a kid that won a contest, it's surprising how much he nailed that take. It's quite easily one of the most effective moments in the entire serial.

The fourth episode of this serial is easily one of the weakest as it degenerates into a lot of your common science fiction tropes. As I said, once they enter the mountain, the tone of the entire story shifts. This is really my biggest criticism of the entire story. But it's also a bit of a further metaphor for the whole atheism argument. Man leaves the primitive world into the world of technology. But with false gods present, man still struggles to find an identity beyond their god. In their own way, the Tesh are no more advanced than the Sevateem. It would appear that Xoanon's little experiment in eugenics was all a bust.

The Sevateem arrive and fight back the Tesh. They also bring the Tesh's weapons into the fight against the invisible monsters, which turn out to be manifestations of Xonanon's id. This explains why the one time we do see them, they just look like a giant apparition of the Doctor's face. Having saved the Doctor from Xoanon's psychic assault, Leela and the Doctor continue trying to stop Xoanon. Because of this, Xoanon, in a last-ditch effort to stop the Doctor, takes over Leela and the rest of the Sevateem to kill the Doctor. However, having been broken from his own religious spell, the unlikeliest of heroes appears in the form of Neeva. Neeva shoots Xoanon long enough to stop the link and save the Doctor but loses his own life in the process.

The Doctor finally repairs Xoanon but gets knocked unconscious in doing so. Upon waking, he discovers he had been out cold for two whole days. A casual Leela sits beside him eating chocolate in peace. The Doctor assumes this means his plan worked and that Xoanon was stopped. The Tesh and the Sevateem are living together in a sort of shaky truce. The invisible monsters are gone, and Xoanon is now at peace. To prove so, Xoanon offers the Tesh and Sevateem the option to destroy it at the push of a button. They discuss needing new leadership and decide Calib is not the right man. Instead, the people (see: Tomas) want Leela to lead. However, Leela turns down the offer to travel with the Doctor, much to his chagrin. Leela has seen enough of this primitive planet. It's time to see the stars.

If you can't tell by now, the aspect I liked so much about this story was its delving into atheism and theology. It may seem like a heavy subject, but at its core, it's something that represents the show as a whole. The perspective that all problems, at their core, can be met with logic and reason. Furthermore, I greatly admire the way in which they continue this story arc for Leela over the remainder of her tenure as a companion. This idea of a woman raised out of ignorance into the realm of greater knowledge continues to build in her character until she becomes someone capable of living among the Time Lords themselves.

That is not to say this serial is not without its faults. For some, it may not be a fascinating storyline. They may not be as enthralled by its themes as I was. Which is fair. There are also some silly moments, such as the invisible monsters leaving footprints, despite being the projections of a giant head. The use of the word savage is also a bit dated, as is the whole concept of the "noble savage." Also, Xoanon got off a bit light. It was like at the end of The Dark Crystal when urSkeks leave like "Peace out, sorry about all the genociiiiide..." What kind of society are the Doctor and Leela leaving behind? Can the Tesh and Sevateem find common ground, or will it be war in perpetuity?

Truth be told, I rather like that it ends on a bit of an open-ended question. I don't believe it's always the Doctor's job to handhold and change the diapers of every developing society. The most the Doctor can hope for is that things have found some sort of balance, free from meddling or outside influence like aliens, robots, or in this case, himself. Furthermore, I love the concept of the Doctor taking a companion on reluctantly. It's almost a form of penance for the Doctor. You created this madwoman with a knife and Janis thorns, and now you've got to tote her around the universe. In many ways, I find Leela very sympathetic. Having come from a religious background, I know the struggles inherent in losing faith, how it shakes your foundation. This type of representation happens so seldom in fiction, and it's rarely a positive thing.

"I too used to believe in magic, but the Doctor taught me about science. It is better to believe in science." –Leela, from "The Horror of Fang Rock"

[thenovelartist]

Sleepover Snafu

So, here’s the crack fic that I pulled out of my WIPs and finished this week. It’s... ridiculous. XD

Never once did it cross his mind that giving a small gift to his friend as his superhero persona would be a Bad Idea™.

“You know Chat Noir?!”

Because it never crossed his mind that she may be hosting a sleepover for her sixteenth birthday.

“Uhh… hi, ladies,” he greeted with a strained grin knowing full well that Marinette was going to string him up by his tail the next time she got the chance. “Fancy seeing all you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Mylene asked.

“Oh, please tell me there isn’t an akuma nearby!” Rose cried.

“Please,” Alya dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I’d know if there was.”

“Yeah,” Juleka assured. “Her akuma sense would be tingling.”

There was a round of snickers while Alya shot a glare at Juleka.

Chat thought he’d get two seconds to slip out with the distraction. But Alix.

Oh. Alix.

“So, Marinette. When did you become his ‘princess’?”

And suddenly, Chat was on the hot seat. The girls circled him as he sat cross-legged on the chaise lounge with Marinette by his side.

“For the record, kitty,” she said. “I hate you.”

…

An hour later, after answering all the questions they threw his way and winning all—sans Alix—over with some over-the-top theatrics about how desperately and deeply he was in love with his ladybug and though Marinette was a wonderful friend, he could never forsake his lady, for she owned his heart.

“You all,” Alix grumbled. “Are saps.”

Thankfully, he won Alix over after the girls let him stay and play games with them. After all, not many people got to play games with Paris’ second favorite superhero.

They had a good time, though it was difficult to pretend he didn’t know anything about these girls other than the fact they’d been akuma victims.

But then got to the part of the night were Alya got that gleam in her eye that Nino constantly complained about because it always spoke volumes of trouble. “Chat Noir,” she purred. He noticed how Marinette was immediately on edge. “You’re a guy in love.”

He quirked an eyebrow, uncertain about where this was going. “Yes.”

“You surely know what it would take to get a guy’s attention.”

And he felt like he was back in the hot seat because now every girl was giving him that smug look.

He swallowed. “Y-yeah?”

From beside him, Marinette buried her face in her hands with a groan.

This was not going to end well.

“So,” Alya began. “Surely with you being such great friends with Marinette, you’d be willing to help her gain the attention of the love of her life.”

Again, Marinette groaned in her hands.

But Chat Noir, for his part, just blinked. Marinette? A crush on a guy? Really?

“She never told you?” Mylene asked.

“It’s not like it’s some big secret or anything,” Alix added rather smugly.

Chat just shook his head.

Alya clapped her hands then rubbed them together. Which meant this was happening and nothing could stop it.

“Chat Noir,” she said. “We. Are officially drafting you. To be part. Of the ‘get Adrien Agreste and Marinette out on a date’ squad.”

He choked on air, and the world started feeling a whole lot smaller. He was barely aware of Marinette mumbling something incoherent into her hands.

Alya nodded proudly. “Yup. You’ll help, right, Chat? The girl needs all the help she can get.”

“I do not!” Marinette protested, finally pulling her face from her hands. “I can talk to him on my own.”

The girls all rolled their heads her direction.

Chat may not be the most socially versed kid on the block, but he knew full well that when five girls roll their heads and shoot someone that look, it’s bad.

Like, cataclysm bad.

“Let’s recap, shall we?” Alya challenged. “The scarf you knitted you couldn’t give to him.”

“And let his father take the credit for.”

“You also took up fencing.”

“And sparred with him, but never talked.”

“The wild plan to sneak Adrien away from his bodyguard so that you could take him out to ice cream.”

“I still don’t remember who was Rose.”

“Who cares? She left me standing on that stupid bridge for a half hour.”

“You weren’t there when she had the opportunity for him to drive her home.”

“Only for her to babble like an idiot and turn him down. Our whole plan was for not.”

“Ladies, focus,” Alya said. “And lastly, we have our ‘almost gave up on him’ fiasco.”

Juleka crossed her arms. “I’m still not cool with you pulling my brother into it.”

“Especially since you did kinda lead him on.”

“And you didn’t even succeed in the end!” Alix cried. “You had the perfect opportunity to say ‘yes, Adrien, just the two of us’.”

“And now Nino’s telling me how Adrien’s trying to convince him that it would be fun if the entire class came to the rink.”

“When it could have been a DATE!” the girl’s all shouted in unison.

“So forgive us,” Alya finished with a sarcastic smile. “If we have so little faith in you.”

Marinette was back to hanging her head.

Chat’s head was spinning in circles, and it seemed like it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. All those moments with Marinette… and they were because she was trying to be more than friends with him?

Somehow, after a long time, he found his voice. “You really like this guy, princess?”

Marinette didn’t look up at him for a long while before finally shooting him a glance and a single nod. “Yeah,” she said, her voice quiet and shy. “But it’s never going to happen.”

Chat’s heart was officially yanked in two. He loved his lady, that was clear to the world. But Marinette… she was pretty spectacular, too. And who was he kidding? His heart liked to flutter around her. Not quite like it did with his lady, but noticeable enough to get him to pause pretty often. And now she was here, bearing her heart—well, having her friends bear her heart to him—and the last thing he wanted to do now that it was an undeniable truth that he held her fragile, precious heart in his hands was to crush it.

“Because Mr. “just friends” doesn’t have any real reason to take you out,” Alix deadpanned.

“No matter how obvious you might be,” Alya continued. “He’s clueless.”

Chat had to bite is tongue before he gave away his identity. Instead, he focused on Marinette, one of the best friends a guy could have.

But she was also the only person in the world, sans Ladybug, whom would have him abusing his superhero powers just to visit her in the middle of the night and watch movies together.

“Could we just drop it for tonight?” Marinette asked. “Please?”

As Chat looked over at his friend, he found that her blue eyes were begging for release just as her crimson cheeks proved her embarrassment. She really liked him. If all those things were true—which, there really wasn’t any reason for them not to be—then Marinette cared deeply. “You said you gave him a scarf,” he asked. “Yet let his father take credit for it?”

“Yeah,” Alya said. “I mean, it was sweet, but the girl couldn’t give him anything without becoming completely useless.”

“So why let his dad take credit?”

“Because,” Marinette answered. “You should have seen the look in his face. It just… he was so happy thinking that his father made that scarf for him. I couldn’t take that away from him! I just… couldn’t. And no, I’ll probably never tell him. Let him be happy.”

Something in Chat’s chest twisted painfully. “And you’re okay with that?”

She shrugged. “It means more that way to him.”

The girls let a collective sigh. “It’s so sweet,” Rose commented.

“Even though she totally should take credit for her work,” Juleka added.

“Yeah,” Alix agreed, “but where Adrien’s concerned, let’s face it, common sense goes straight out the window.”

Marinette hid her face in her hands again, and Chat knew he was going to have to make a decision with the heart he currently held in his hands.

So he put up an over-large smile. “So, Princess, sounds like you’re pretty head over heels for this guy, so I’ll tell you what: I’ll help you out.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

“Yeah it is!” was the chorus from the girls.

“Please, do, Chat Noir,” Alya begged. “I would literally do anything.”

Chat put on a show of thinking. Thankfully, something came to mind. “You should write him a letter.”

The girl’s faces fell. Clearly it wasn’t what they were expecting.

“Yup,” Chat said with a grin. “Go. Do it. A letter with all the things you’d never say to his face.”

Marinette knew him too well by now. “Why?” she said, her eyes narrowing. “What are you thinking?”

“Because,” he said. “I dare you to take one of those things and actually say it to him.”

Her expression fell, while all the other girls brightened like the sun.

“Yeah!”

“That’s a great idea.”

“This will be amusing.”

“No!” Marinette cried. “No way. Not happening.”

“Come on, Princess,” he said with a grin. “Trust me.”

She quirked a brow, showing she didn’t.

He frowned. “Harsh.”

“Yeah, but you can trust us,” Alya quickly chimed in. “And that’s a good idea! We’ll even help you.”

There was a round of consent from the other girls, meaning Marinette was sat down at her desk. The girls surrounded her, throwing out ideas of just what she should tell Adrien. Everything from “I admire your kindness” to “Hey Hot Stuff, get dressed up for me today?” made its way to the paper.

Marinette couldn’t even stay mad for long as the more ridiculous things got put on the page. But the amusing thing was, there was a part of Marinette that clearly meant everything, even the ridiculous phrases.

There was a lot of laughter and giggles and amusement. And Chat was about to crash the fun as well as put himself squarely on Marinette’s kill list.

“It’s perfect, Princess. Meaning now…” He snatched the paper out of her hand. “I’ll deliver this to a certain someone and give him a clear explanation.”

Chat found some sick, twisted pleasure in watching not only Marinette but all the girls’ faces fall in shock.

He shot them a wink. “Trust me, Princess. If he’s that blind, he needs a bat over the head. And I’ll be sure to give it to him. I’ll see you later.”

He was halfway out the door when he heard Marinette shriek his name and Alix cackle like a madwoman. It was at that moment he knew that he’d never be able to go back to Marinette’s without serious consequences.

And Plagg… well…

The little shit found it fricking hilarious.

…

Marinette wanted to simultaneously melt into a puddle and slaughter a certain superhero. She swore the next time she saw Chat Noir—as Ladybug because Chat was smart enough not to return to Marinette’s house for a good while—she was going to tie him up and leave him hanging from the Eiffel Tower.

And that feeling increased tenfold when she saw Adrien appear.

Alix was already laughing. Alya was patting her shoulder reassuringly. And Marinette wanted to die.

She was going to skin that cat and use him as a rug.

“Hey, Marinette,” Adrien greeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can we… talk for a moment?”

And there it was: her march to her doom. Still, she followed him to a quiet corner of the school so he could let her down easy with as few witnesses—if any—as humanly possible.

“Look,” she said once she was sure they were alone. “If it’s about the thing Chat Noir gave you then—”

His dazzling smile caused her to stop in her tracks. “Don’t worry Purr-incess,” he whispered to her. “Your little secret is safe with me. Always has been. Always will be. I’m not that cruel to give a paper like that to some unsuspecting guy.” He sent her a wink and then marched off, stupid smug smirk on his stupid face and his stupid green eyes dazzling with mirth.

And it took her far too long for her mind to kick back and gear and process his words.

She looked up at him, not believing it. He couldn’t… no way…

But Adrien spun around, waggling his brows and shooting her another wink and she swore right then and there…

“I’m going to kill you, you stupid cat!”