#like I suddenly hold no value in said task and I now must do something else

[ghoul--doodle]

Struggling to get the adhd to cooperate with me at work today

[rcksmith]

Desire — Kaz Brekker

(Photo not mine)

Requests: “Hello there! I've been around this blog for a bit now and you are an amazing writer! I was wondering if you would be ok with doing something with 21 28 & 29 from the smut prompts and kaz brekker? If you are uncomfortable please just ignore this!”

“Kaz brekker Smut prompts 28 66?? Love you💖!!”

“I can request Kaz smut prompts 29?❤️”

Smut prompts:

21. “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

66. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of shot, mention of desire, desire, mention of smut, explicit smut, NSFW.

Word count: 3k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — —

There was something about you. Something impossible to decipher, with a glow hovering around you like a electrical energy. Wrapping your whole body in a cloak of magnetism. There was something about the way you spoke, walked, laugh. Something about what it was like to be you, in your beauty and mysteries like a sphinx.

Something that made Kaz Brekker completely furious.

You couldn't be more distorted from the image, in Kaz's mind, than what was to be a peaceful woman. Calm, controled, with steel emotions and wit in eyes. Someone who, like him, knew how to dance the waltz of negotiation, manipulation, who could blend in with the shadows and know the best time to listen more than speak.

You were not like Inej, you were not like Jesper. Hell, you were like nobody Kaz has known in all of his 28 years.

Nothing reminiscent of calm and control would be used to describe what it meant to be you.

Your soul are stormy, loud, obstinate, too stubborn and too talkative. You needed to speak loudly, laugh, move, expose your opinions to the seven winds and to whoever listened the most. You needed to question, inquire, doubt and test the limits of any situation. A direct order for you would be an affront to your free and independent spirit. A command that would curtail your freedom or tame your strong genius was almost like an invitation for you to do exactly the opposite of what they had ordered you to do.

So, for a man of trained reasoning, subtly balanced world, and who was used to his every command being followed vehemently and promptly in blind obedience, such a personality like you was like introducing a disturbing factor capable of shaking all his judgments. Sand in a watch, or stone in a shoe, would be no more a nuisance than a strong nature like your.

The extraordinary stubbornness and mania to counter his orders - when, in your words, they were unreasonable - had made you different from all the women Brekker had ever met. Kaz liked challenges and responsibilities, a good puzzle, but you were on a level far beyond that.

You were a danger to his peace of mind. And you knew that. All his aversion to your indomitable spirit only served as fuel for your own mission in to piss him off. Few men were like Kaz Brekker, you knew that, with a strength of character too powerful to be ignored. He was not just comfortable in his position of authority as he was obviously unable to act in any other way than as a leader. His stoic figure and always so contained in a wall of indifference made you want to ruffle his hair to see if you could remove any emotion. And being a girl who hasn't always liked leaders, Kaz Brekker was a huge temptation. Few moments had been better than those that you managed to piss him off beyond what he could handle.

However, all the reasons why the two of you were so exasperating for each other, did not explain why the air crackled in ambiguity when your eyes met. The hemisphere was adorned in a thought-provoking, poignant veil, like a warm honey flowing down its throat, and there was something else in the way blood flowed like flames of fire through veins of you two.

Jesper said that the sexual tension between you was so tangible that it could be cut by one of Inej's knives, but you refused to think of Kaz that way. At least until that moment.

Not pure images of what the infamous Brekker could do to you between four walls swept you like the strong Arabian wind. Making you be surprisingly breathless. Kaz was not a man whose private life was exposed, nor was he involved with many women, but you have heard two or three of them when they were drunk saying that Kaz Brekker in the room could be incendiary.

Everyone knew that his touch reserve didn't limit him to anything, but that his job was at the top of the priority list and that sexual encounters were almost never on that list.

"It was not my fault!” Jesper defended himself one night, slightly drunk, sitting at the club's round table next to the other crows “I didn't know he was married to another man! That damn pretty face seduced me!”

"Did he seduce you?" You asked, skeptical and playful.

"I swear to God! And it had been a long time since I had sex with anyone, and I went… ”

“But you did sex last week." Inej laughed, chocked.

"Exactly!" Jesper said, as if he were obvious.

You laughed with your beer glass in your hand, taking another sip.

“Is a week a long time to not sleep with anyone?" Matthias retorted, trying not to laugh.

“Are you going to tell me that is not?” Jesper and Nina spoke at the same time.

“If a man has time for sex more than once a week, he clearly doesn't have much to do. And I'm sure I gave Jesper a lot of tasks that would keep him busy.” Kaz narrowed his eyes at his friend, and Jesper hid his guilt behind the rim of his beer glass, looking to the side.

"So you are saying that you are a very busy man?" You teased, trying not to laugh at the scathing look Kaz sent you.

"I disagree. The values ​​of hard work and discipline cannot match the hot body of a woman in bed.” Matthias said, exchanging a brief conspiratorial look with Nina, who winked at him.

"There are more important things." Said Kaz.

"Like what?" You rested your chin on the back of the hand whose elbow was on the table, the playful look of a rebellious student.

"Progress." Kaz held your gaze.

He wasn't going to take your bait. But you didn't give up easy.

"Tell me, if God gave you a deal: all the hunger in the world would be extinguished in exchange for you never being able to have sex again, what would you choose?" your eyes had a teasing feline glow.

At that moment, Kaz felt a shiver up the back of his neck, like a warm breath of autumn. Something crawled, like a snake, across his rib cage and down to his groin, pumping blood like fire through his veins.

He held your gaze, but the feline glow in your eyes promised to contain the most ardent sins. Suddenly, Kaz's mind was flooded by the wave of obscene images of you, on his bed; moaning, squirming, shouting his name and being very obedient with every order he gave you.

He would make you such a good girl...

"I don't believe in God." He replied succinctly, the predator's eyes still in your eyes audacious feline's.

A big, satisfied smile spread across your face, and you said: "As I thought. Bad luck for hungry people.”

Realizing that he had fallen right into your cunning trap, Kaz got rid of your diabolical magnetism and cursed.

“I didn't say…” he stopped, impatient “It doesn't matter. I have more important things to do than waste time here.”

But the smile you hid behind the glass was noticeable to Kaz.

After that night, the crackling, gasping flame that circled the two of you intensified to alarming levels. Kaz could feel you holding your breath when he was too close, and you could see him squeezing his cane harder when you sweetened your voice for him.

However, regardless of Kaz's wanted to fold you at a table and put an end to your brat girl pose, enjoying the groans he was sure you would let out, the two of you still fought like dog and cat.

Just as it was now.

“What do you mean, I'm not going?!” You looked at Kaz, amazed, when he told you that you would not participate in the robbery that week “I know that security system like the back of my hand!”

It was true, what you had of stubbornness, you had of technological intelligence. There was no computer that you would not hack, a program that you would not hack, and a system that you would not unlock. Your genius with technology made up for all your lack of obedience.

But Kaz ignored. “I've already told you. It's a more dangerous mission than you're used to and we don't have time for the plans you come up with right away.” He needled you.

“Are you referring to Switzerland?” You were never anything short of direct and inquiring. It was logical that you would question every orden. “But I already told you that when the alarm went off your plan didn't work anymore! I was more useful inside to deactivate the alarm than waiting outside.”

And stubborn. Holy God, how stubborn you were!

"And it cost you to get shot."

"But it was just a shot!"

Kaz looked at you, puzzled. “Just?! And wasn't it enough ?! You put the whole team at risk!”

“But if I hadn't deactivated the alarm, we would all be arrested! And only I knew how to do that!”

"My fucking God, isn't there a speck of common sense in you?!"

But you answered boldly: "Not when you impose clueless plans on me."

Mortified would be an understatement to describe how he was now. What an unbearable creature! Kaz felt the anger spread from his neck to his face, igniting his breath and squinting his eyes in annoyance.

Why was it so difficult for you to follow a simple goddamn rule?!

“Besides, your initial plan was flawed and there was no reason for me to be out when it was necessary inside and...” And you kept talking!

If you had noticed Kaz's completely enraged state in front of you, you would have been scared, shut up and ran. But, truth be told, Kaz suspected that even if you knew how to read the murderous humor in his eyes, you wouldn't have left that office. Much less be afraid. You could argue with the demon. And you would probably beat him out of tiredness.

However, regardless of the desire to shake you up, to see if that put any good sense in you, in that second, watching you gesture with your hands, defending your point of view as if it were the england queen's crown, something swept Kaz's body from the top of his head with dark hair to the tips of his illustrated boots.

The sound of the world was drowned out by the flow of blood itself in his veins. His heart hammered hard in his chest and, in that instant, a sharp sting in his groin and the pit of his stomach set him on fire.

His gaze went down to your mouth, which kept moving. And when it came up to your eyes, your stubborn and defiant gaze sent Kaz's rationality into space. He dropped the cane abruptly, which toppled to the floor with a hollow crack, and advanced towards you in firm and determined steps.

Gluing his gloved hands to your face, Kaz silenced all your protests with a strong kiss. Hot, fiery, domineering. The kind of kiss that held years of camouflaged desire, years of irritability, years of an unnerving desire to make you shut up with all the perverse forms that existed.

You weren't afraid of him. But you should. You should if you knew everything he wanted to do with you.

However, as if you have been burning in the same desire for years, you responded to that kiss with the same urgency. The same hunger. Kaz slipped his hands into your hair, closing his fingers there and deepening the kiss with ferocity. He felt beside himself, like a hungry wild animal that had been denied food for years and that only now had its teeth set on its prey. You moaned against his lips, bringing your hands to his lean, strong biceps, squeezing your fingers there.

You both needed air, but neither seemed to give a damn about that. Misted of desire that burned like a fire in their bodies, Kaz pushed the two of you backwards, slamming your back against the wall and swinging a frame beside. You gasped, and the gesture made it possible for Kaz to invade your mouth with his tongue, hunting every piece of hot meat. You two fought the same battle in that kiss: invade, dominate, conquer.

They both wanted to take the waltz, but Kaz would never let you conduct the show.

He pulled your wrists up, pinning them with one hand against the wall, leaving you immobile while sinking his mouth further into yours. Kaz felt you try to get rid of his tight grip, but he was stronger than you. And much more when he have a objective.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He murmured against your mouth, the tip of his tongue playing with your bottom lip. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Was impossible for you to control the loud moan that escaped. Your body trembling with desire, your legs wobbly, your wet core vibrating with his words. Kaz Brekker was a fallen angel. With a beauty and charm you've never been immune to.

How can you think you'd win the dominance game with him?

And, like the fallen angel he was, his smug and arrogant smile painted the corner of his lips when he saw what his lines did to you.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Kaz mocked “If I knew it was only necessary to do this for you to shut up...” he brought his lips closer, his voice hitting yours “I would have fucked you like the naughty brat you have been a long time.”

If his caustic and maddening kisses hadn't been enough to break you in half, that statement would have done all the work.

In that second, you hoisted your white flag, biting your lip in a needy moan and closing your eyes for a second by the overwhelming vibration of your core. God, you needed more. Whatever he gave you. Anything he wanted to give you. You just needed more.

"Are you going to be good?" He played with the dough you were in his hands, his devilish mouth going down your neck, leaving a trail of fire and debris wherever he went.

You agreed, desperately. “Yes, Sir."

That title seemed to do things with Kaz. Because in the next second, his mouth was back on your. More urgent, more needy, more dominating. You shifted your hips for more friction with his, and Kaz rewarded your obedience by pulling one of your thighs forward, making your skirt go up, aligning your thigh on his hips and giving access for his member to fit perfectly against your pulsating core.

You moaned louder this time. Fingers clenching, heart pumping frantically. Kaz pulled his lips away from you for a second, taking his hand off your thigh and bringing it to your mouth.

“Pull.” He ordered, referring to the glove.

You murmured a low, excited moan, bringing your mouth to the glove and clenching your teeth on the cloth at the top of his middle finger. Satisfied, Kaz pulled his hand back, watching the alabaster skin peel away from the leather fabric. As soon as he was free, he removed the glove from your mouth, replacing it with his own and stealing all your breath in that fiery kiss.

His free hand wandered over your thigh, touching you for the first time with a touch that promised to show you all the most delicious and secret sins in the world. His tongue wrapped around your again, and the moan you let out was even greater when his long fingers brushed against your wet, throbbing core.

"S-sir!" You sobbed, your hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more.

"Look at you." His fire voice beat against your lips, the tightness against your wrists getting stronger, more possessive "I’ ve only started using my fingers and you ’re already shaking"

Your body cried out in unbridled desire, sobs mingling with loud moans and heavy sighs as Kaz tormented you with his fingers. He touched you, slid, opened and sank, increasing the volume of your pleas.

“P-please" You begged, the body in need, the urge too urgent.

Kaz looked you in the eye, a dark, malicious gleam burning in his Egyptian blue irises. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" He teased you.

But you no longer cared about his teasing. With your lips swollen and red, your heart racing and the core pulsing in despair on his experienced fingers, you were already surrendered.

"Please. I n-need." You mumbled submissively, rummaging your hips in his hand.

"I bet if I wanted to fuck you against my desk, here and now, you would be very happy to do it, wouldn't you?"

He was foisting all of his dominance on you, bending you to your knees for him. And you knew that. You knew he was taking years of anger out on you. But you couldn't care less. You wanted him. Ardently. Desperately. And if it was a good girl Kaz wanted, damn it, you would be a good girl for him.

You readily agreed, your eyes shining in supplication.

“Good.” Kaz pulled you brutally off the wall, turning you over to the table and pushing your chest against the icy wood, pulling your hips at him. “Because that's exactly what is going to happen.”

Suddenly, desire and hunger roared like a wild beast. Kaz watched you, bent over his desk, obedient, surrendered, offering every inch of your body to him.

His breath was burning in his throat and it was no longer possible to order his thoughts, contain his euphoria. He would fuck you so hard that it would make that memory the only thought when you remembered him. When you dare to rebut his orders.

Kaz pulled you skirt up and your panties down, letting out a groan that sounded more like a growl as he saw your wet core. Pulsing and desperate for him. For anything he wanted to give you. It sparked a fervent desire that Brekker had never felt in his life, devastating any possibility of thinking about anything other than fucking you.

Playing with your fingers in your slick, wet folds, you whimpered again, the core pulsing whenever he teased you inside, pressing his fingertips there but never entering.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" His voice came over the top of your shoulder, hoarse, animalistic, full of profane desires.

"Please." You were quick to beg “I do what you want! But just...please, please… ”

You already felt your eyes watering from over-stimulation, your heart burning so hard it was beating, your core aching from emptiness.

You sealed the end of the game between you. Kaz had won. In a triumphant checkmate.

And you didn't have to beg again. Barely seeing when he unbuttoned his pants, you just reasoned his hard, hot, pulsating member by opening your from the inside. Claiming everything that was yours as his in a strong, desperate, hungry lunge.

"S-sir!" You screamed, your nails scraping the wood from the table, the core pulsing overwhelmingly around his rigid member.

In a more badly lunge, Kaz sank completely into you, moaning loudly as he hit rock bottom. The gloved hand slid over your shoulder, propelled you to him while the bare hand tightened on your waist, hitting you at a steady, raw, animalistic rhythm.

The sounds were pornographic, dirty and loud, echoing off the walls. The air was hot like molten lava, pungent and muffled, driving you two lost breath. Their bodies clashed as if the world was going to end tomorrow, in aggressive, rough thrusts. These were thrusts that made half of his things on the table fall to the floor, mixing in a mess that would serve as a reminder later about the sinful activities you two did.

You screamed when Kaz took on more force, his fingers squeezing you so hard that they would leave you with marks on your shoulder and waist the next day.

"Fucking hell!" Kaz snarled between his teeth, feeling your flesh throb around him, squeezing he with such desperation that he knew you were close.

You sobbed, tears streaming down the corners of your eyes as you pushed your ass towards him, trying to bring him as deep as possible, as deep inside you as possible. But every time his pelvis smashed into your ass, a loud moan and the feeling of being completely full drowned you.

You begged, pleaded, for something you didn't know. But Kaz seemed to know. Taking both hands to your hips, your pace became even more unperturbed, pushing you to the limit until you cum in a scream in his name, your lungs on fire. Kaz came close behind, sinking as deep as possible and pouring all the hot liquid into you. Almost like a brand.

The air was filled with sex, lust and desire, filled only by the sound of their ragged breaths that struggled to stabilize.

You were still panting when Kaz's voice came after you: "Whatever I want, don't I?"

A deal with the devil.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are Weird: Soldier without a war. Part I

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

 “You sure the speks don’t patrol there?”

“If they did do you really think I’d bring this rust bucket along for a job?”

Melp strapped himself into the copilot’s chair and looked over the console readings one last time. All systems were showing minimal operational capacity which normally would have been setting off alarm bells but with how things had been going for him and his captain lately it was the best they could ask for.

Melp was part of the salvage company “Outlying Star”, co-owner in fact with his partner and current captain Galem. When the war against humanity had started the two had thought it was the best idea to make a fortune with all the wrecks floating between star systems from fleet combat and had went all in on a converted freighter to pick through the bones and sell what they could.

At first Melp and Galem had made a killing, bringing in semi functional sub space drives and salvaged fully automated hard shell loaders from human ships. They made enough to fund a fleet of five ships and live the good life back on Valfha without a care in the world; for a little while at least.

Galem thought it was because of the government’s restrictions on salvageable items that had hampered their business but Melp believed it was because they were just too good at it that and had inspired countless others to take up the salvage game. Soon markets, both legal and black, became flooded with salvaged goods and people willing to undercut each other to make a quick buck. Neutron cannon went from 3.5 billion credits in value to just under 300 million credits in the span of six months. As a side effect of the sudden influx of salvage parts the government began taking notice and cracked down hard. Salvagers were called “Scavies” and deemed criminals by the government and the military would all too happily fire on any scavy ship they spotted. Seems they weren’t too happy about people rummaging through the wrecks of ships that once held their friends and the government would turn a blind eye if a scavy ship was destroyed during “Live Fire Exercises”.

Soon the jobs became even riskier and Outlying Star lost three ships after they were caught and destroyed. Another had to be sold for parts and salvage and now the final ship, the Morning Gale, was the last hope for Galem and Melp to make back some money.

“How do you even know this site hasn’t been picked clean already?” Melp asked over his shoulder as Galem entered the cockpit and locked the door behind him. “We could be wasting our time on a fantasy.” Galem shook his head which did little to ease Melp’s concerns.

“I got it from a reliable source that there was a big fight in the Glipi Cluster that we lost to the humans.” Galem began as he took the controls and slowly pulled back on the engine throttle as the ship ascended. “It was so embarrassing that the navy wiped all records of the battle and said the destroyed ships were lost in a freak transition from sub space into a rogue comet cluster.”

“If the data was wiped how does your source know about it?”  Melp quipped as the ship breached upper atmosphere and exited the travel lanes for the jump point.

Galem smirked as he engaged the sub space drive.

“They were there.”

 As the salvage ship exited sub space Melp let out a gasp. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes yet when he opened them all he could see was a shroud of purple. Galem saw Melp’s confused expression and chuckled.

“It’s the color of the gas filtering through this entire cluster.” He said calmly as he flicked on several scanners and filter units. “Try looking now.”

Melp looked again as the shades of purple faded away and let out a startled gasp. Upon gazing out of the cockpit window he could see why the navy had wanted to cover up this place so badly.

Floating around them were dozens of lifeless wrecks of Mibari warships ranging from light destroyers to several cruisers. Compared to their tiny ship it was as if Melp and Galem had entered the realm of giants. Melp was transfixed by the wrecks and became utterly enthralled when a massive shadow draped across their vessel.

“Is that what I think it is?” Melp spoke sheepishly as his blue hands trembled and changed to a soft orange color. Galem leaned forward in his seat to look out the window and whistled as his eyes caught sight of what had terrified Melp.

“A galaxy class troop carrier.”

The massive ship spun slowly in place like a top that refused to stop spinning, the metal interior exposed in several places from weapons revealing a dark interior of metal supports and long dead hallways. Melp looked towards the front of the ship as the command deck slowly spun into view and he was surprised to see the name of the ship had survived the damage it had taken.

“The Vault of Ohya…” Melp softly spoke. He reached out with an arm and shook Galem who was smiling like a hatchling on birthing day. “That’s the Vault of Ohya!”

“A piece of her hull to the right collector would be enough to refurbish this little dingy,” Galem said as he playfully smacked the command console, “into one hell of a floating casino.”

The two of them broke down into fits of laughter as if they had just been driven mad by their findings; but it was not of madness that now drove them but the sheer joy of their discovery.

These dozen ships floating lifelessly in the cluster were more than enough to bring the two of them back into the life of luxury they once held and keep them there until their dying days.

Melp was still star gazing at the shattered troop carrier when something else suddenly grabbed his attention.

“What’s that?”

Melp tore his gaze away from the Ohya and saw what Galem was looking at.

A new vessel slowly drifted out of the shadow of the troop carrier and came into view. It was clearly a human vessel of some kind; the lack luster design a clear give away. The body of the ship was missing sections of itself, but rather than appearing as if it had been damaged in the battle it looked more as if the ship had not finished being built. Sections of the body were lacking armor showing a complex network of pipes and corridors. The hull was painted in a soft grey color that stood out sharply among the ever shifting gas cloud surrounding it. Rows of gun ports ran along the sides, their openings revealing nothing of the pitch black interior giving them the appearance of small gaping mouths ready to consume Melp and his ship.  

The more Melp looked at the ship the more he felt something was just wrong with it. Galem must have felt something as well as he pulled up the virtual display and began interacting with it.

“Not sure what that thing is but it’s not listed in the records.” He said as he closed the display and leaned over the controls to get a better view of it. The tingling feeling at the bottom of Melp’s three stomachs was starting to grow stronger as his uneasiness did not subside.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that there’s no record of that ship variant from the entire war with humanity on any recorded file.” He popped open the virtual display again and flicked it over so it was hovering in front of Melp to view while he fiddled with the controls again. “Which means it’s worth a whole lot more than anything here.”

“How do you figure that?” As a response to Melp’s question he waved his arm across the scattered wrecks.

“Out of all the ships here the human ones are all clustered around that one as if they meant to protect it.” Galem said as he began moving the ship closer to the strange human ship.

“They could have bugged out and ran, but instead they all fought and died just to protect that thing; which means something on it must’ve been worth defending.”

Melp knew what Galem had some merit, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still very wrong; but before he could raise his concerns though a loud shudder ran through the scavenger ship.

“Get your suit on,” Galem said as he exited out of the cockpit, “let’s go find us some treasure.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If the exterior of the ship had uneased Melp, the interior down right terrified him.

No sooner had the airlock door opened the two scavengers leaped back in shock. Standing at the entrance was a humanoid looking figure. Galem screamed and grabbed hold of a nearby cutting tool and swung it at the figure before Melp could even say anything.

A shower of sparks eradiated off the figure’s body as the plasma torch cut into it, all the while Galem was continuing to scream, and cut a decent size hole through the beings torso.

“Shut it!” Melp shouted at Galem, forcing the scared halfwit to calm down some while Melp inched closer and retrieved the still burning plasma torch. The figure had not moved and inch even as the torch had melted away his exterior and as Melp moved closer still he noticed why.

“It’s an automated drone you idiot.”

Melp motioned him forward and the two of them inspected the machine.

It was human shaped but it was entirely of metal and wires, a mindless drone used for menial tasks such as inventory handling or maintenance. It wore a human uniform for some reason which clashed with its blank reflective visor face.

“Why’s it standing here?” Galem asked as he nervously tapped the drone. The touch pushed it off the ground and the dead drone slowly lifted off the ground in the zero-g environment and floated back into the ship, bouncing off the back wall before continuing to silently float away.

“Maybe it’s here to greet us?” Melp chuckled as he activated his mag locks and his feet latched on to the metallic floor. Galem followed suit and the two began entering the derelict ship.

“Can’t be,” Galem began as they reached the airlock secondary doors and began slowly opening them, “these tin cans would run out of power in a day and it’s been years since this tussle went down.”

With several loud grunts as the two strained with the manual release the inner airlock to the human ship finally cracked open. The two entered slowly, not knowing what to expect, and took stock of their surroundings.

They entered a long hallway that seemed to stretch out far into the distance passed the reach of their head lamps. Melp could see side corridors scattered every few dozen feet no doubt leading to other sections of the ship, but likewise they too were pitch black.

Something about Melp’s comment made him pull out his data scroll and do a quick scan. The device beeped rapidly as the scan commenced before ending with a loud “DING” and displaying a waterfall of information.

Melp read the data as the two continued to hover by the airlock entrance.

“It says here that somethings still giving off a power signature here.” Melp commented as he ran he scan again to be sure.

“Give it here,” Galem said as he turned to Melp with his hand outstretched, “you must be reading it-“

When Galem didn’t finish his sentence Melp looked up and saw something akin to a mixture of fear and surprise on his face. He was staring at something over his shoulder so Melp slowly turned in place , his magnetic feet latching heavily to the decking with each step like two magnets smashing together.

When he finally turned around he let out a yelp of surprise and tried to jump back, but his magnetic feet kept him firmly locked to the floor leaving him in an almost comical off balance state.

Standing directly behind him was another of the drones, this one dressed in what appeared to be some sort of security uniform even including an empty weapon holster at his side.

Neither of the scavengers knew how the thing got there as it most certainly hadn’t been standing there a moment ago. Before either of them could respond the drone’s visor lit up and displayed a pixelated face.  The visor was damaged with a deep crack running the length of it making the display flicker in and out on half the screen giving it an eerily ghost like visage.

“The captain,” the drone began as it stepped to one side of the hallway and extended a hand into the darkness, “requests your presence on the bridge.”

[masterjedilenawrites]

I’m not good at making requests, so forgive me if anything come out wrong.

But, could you do something were reader and Tech are fixing some eletronics and listening to cientific things, and start talking about a wrong thing people said there, so they get distracted and when realize, they’re in to a awkward position (like him btween her legs or sth like that)

I love your writing and thanks (: <3

Omg I've been so soft for Tech lately and this prompt is perfect 💚 I hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing it!

Tech x reader | 2k words

...making bacta the most important scientific achievement in history...

"Dank farrik," Tech huffed beside you.

You came out of your daze at the sudden exclamation and looked at your friend with concern, trying to quickly figure out what had gone wrong. You were helping him with a project, though what it was exactly you weren't completely certain of. All you knew was it involved digging into the walls of the ship and untangling a lot of wires. You'd been instructed to hold onto several of them, keeping them pulled taught out of the wall so Tech could fiddle with the other ends, and the dullness of the task had caused your mind to wander.

"What's wrong?" you asked, doubtful you'd understand any explanation, but wanting to be sure you hadn't done anything to mess up his progress.

He waved a hand at you dismissively, not pulling his attention away from the work in front of him. "Just the radio," he mumbled.

You hadn't been paying attention; it had only been turned on as background noise to keep you from going insane with boredom. And since it was tuned into some kind of scientific news frequency, you didn't really understand much of what was being said anyway.

...with the most influential application simply being in the field of medicine, providing us higher life forms with a versatile tool in maintaining our quality of life, and potentially even prolonging it...

Tech huffed again. Scoffed. Your mouth quirked at how upset he was getting. It was kind of cute.

But, you had to debate whether engaging with his frustration would be worth it. He had only recently calmed down from his outburst earlier that day, the only time you had ever seen him genuinely upset. Wrecker had accidentally knocked over a piece of machinery that was... well, something very important, apparently. No one was too sure. But Tech had spent most of the week carefully arranging its parts just-so, so that when all his hard work went crashing onto the floor, his breathing had suddenly resembled that of a charging Nexu. He'd drawn himself up, trying to match his brother's height, and ordered the poor guy to never step foot in this part of the ship again. The other Batchers had tried to defend him and were subsequently banned as well.

That left you as the only option for help.

Maybe that meant he wouldn't kick you out for debating him....

"Sounds like they're saying some pretty reasonable things. Am I missing something?"

Tech's fingers, which had been deftly working through the wires before him, clipping some and splicing others, finally froze. The clone's face tilted over to you, his eyes looking a little too judgmental through those glasses for your liking.

"You think bacta is the most important scientific achievement?" he asked. You didn't like his tone, either.

You scrunched your mouth in thought, actually giving the question serious consideration. While you mulled it over, Tech stood up from his hunched position in the wall and started pulling on some of the wires, unraveling them from their tangled mess.

"Yeah," you finally decided. "I think medicine in general is pretty important. And bacta specifically is the strongest known substance to deliver fast and effective healing."

Tech was mostly focused on the wires, but he spared you a glance.

"And treating symptoms is the most important thing for humanity? Here, hold this." He added another wire for you to hold in your hands.

You knew it was a loaded question so you chose to answer it with one of your own. "Well if it's not bacta or medicine, then what would it be?"

"Electricity," he said quickly and assertively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. He continued to focus more on his work and you were annoyed he didn't seem to want to offer up an explanation to his opinion, despite having made you give one. He'd finally untangled the wires and was back to leaning into the cavern in the wall and setting them into their proper places.

"Why electricity?" You hated how dumb your question sounded; obviously you understood the concept and understood its importance. You just really wanted to challenge him to give you some explanations.

"For one, most medicines would not be able to be mass-produced were it not for the electrically-run vats in which they are made." He held his hand out behind him and made a grabbing motion. "Blue, please."

You sorted out the blue wire and passed it over.

"For another," he continued, his voice sounding distant as he leaned further away into the wall, "we must ask what constitutes a quote-unquote important achievement. For example, is an achievement worthy of the title simply because it improves our quality of life? Green, please."

You handed over the corresponding wire. "I'd say it's more about preserving life. Even outside of war, there's enough injury and illness that would end life were it not for medicine to heal them."

"Ah, but in that same reasoning, electricity also sustains life. It powers sources of light and warmth, which can also provide a means of boiling water and cooking food. All keys to survival. Yellow, please."

"So does fire," you shot back. "People survived long before electricity, and there's still plenty of civilizations living fine without it."

Tech finally emerged from the wall and took the last few wires from you, the red and black ones. He met your eyes with an earnestness that let you know how much he was enjoying this conversation. "And people have survived without medicine. At least the manufactured forms that you're arguing for, like bacta. Traditional medicine is as sufficient as fire."

Before you could respond, Tech moved to the side, motioning toward the wall with his head and holding up the remaining wires.

"Now, unfortunately these last ones need to be clipped in down below. I'm not able to fit through the lattice of the floor, but someone of your stature easily could."

You stepped forward and peered down. It was a mess of machinery and pipes and beams, but you could clearly see the port where the wires had been yanked out earlier. You knelt down, resting your stomach on the edge of the wall, but paused before bending over.

"If it wasn't for bacta, you wouldn't have been born." You were confident in your comeback and thus didn't linger for his reaction, turning to bend down into the ship with your wires instead.

You were disappointed to hear his soft chuckle from above you.

"And what do you think powers the bacta tanks that hold the clone embryos?"

You were glad he couldn't see the frustrated frown on your face. While you tried to think of a new point in your debate, you snapped the red wire into the proper port. But then you realized you couldn't quite reach the black one, and started carefully shimmying forward, deeper into the wall.

"It seems we have circled back to the initial question," Tech offered in your silence. You felt his hands hold on to your hips, steadying you as your legs lifted from the floor, most of your body now inside the ship. You didn't think anything of it, though, your focus split between your task and his words. "What makes an achievement the most important? Both medicine and electricity are capable of preserving life, but neither are essential to survival. So, what criteria are we left with?"

You were finally within reach of the last port and pushed the wire into it. "Sounds like you already have the right answer, so why don't you stop teasing me and just say it?" you called up to him.

"I...I didn't mean to sound like I was teasing."

You could hear the apology in his voice, how truly caught off guard he was to hear that you had perceived his attempts at a friendly debate, a conversation, as mocking or disrespectful. Your stomach knotted up in guilt, making your journey to wiggle back out of the wall a little more difficult.

"I'm sorry, Tech," you said through a grunt as you tried to push yourself back. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't know the answer."

You felt his arms snake around your middle, pulling you the last of the way out. You came to rest on your knees, breathing heavily at the sudden increase in air supply. Tech was crouched alongside you, his chest against part of your back, his arms still holding you.

"I honestly don't know the answer, either," he blinked down at you, speaking quietly. "I don't know what criteria would constitute the most important scientific achievement. I thought maybe we could figure it out if we kept discussing it."

You craned your neck around to look at him, unconcerned about the discomfort it took to do so. You needed to face him fully. "Or... maybe we don't need to figure it out? I mean, does there need to be one achievement labeled more important than any other? Can they not all be valued equally?"

"I suppose..." he relented. But only a little. "It is a fun thought exercise, though."

You smiled at that, and it made your heart flutter a little to see him return the expression. There were a few seconds between you where you sat pleasantly in each other's arms... before the realization hit that you were in each other's arms.

"Uh," Tech stuttered first. His eyes looked about frantically as if the more he saw of you practically sitting in his lap, the more he would know what to do about it.

Your face was hot and your heart thumped forcefully in your chest. But you weren't panicking. Even though you'd been around the Bad Batch for a while now, this was the first time you'd gotten physically close to any of them, especially this dorky genius, who made you feel just a little better about life than the others did. You hadn't been sure why, not until this moment, your face being mere inches away from his own. Now it clicked.

His arms had removed themselves from your frame and he was starting to crawl backward on the floor. You quickly grasped his shoulder to stop him.

"Tech, wait."

He froze, looking at you with wide, apprehensive eyes. His shoulder was tense so you relaxed your grasp and simply let your hand rest on it gently. You gave him a small smile. Thankfully these little gestures were enough encouragement for him to lean back to you. He still looked at you timidly, but he wasn't pulling away anymore. It seemed like maybe he had been feeling the same things about you.

"Yes?"

He was waiting for you to make the next move.

"So, this project," you stalled, needing just a little more time to work up the courage. "What is it again? Why did I just crawl into the bowels of the ship?"

Your face was creeping closer to his, breath gently fanning across each other, warm but refreshing.

"I... I..." Tech seemed to be short-circuiting. "I was just, uh, re... redecorating."

Your nose had just brushed his when you suddenly frowned and moved back to look at him questioningly. "Redecorating... wires?"

You were very amused at how flustered he seemed to be in this situation. But then the tables turned as Tech rolled with it.

"Yeah, I didn't like the way they looked in there. Wanted to change things up. You know me."

The smile on our face spread as he talked and you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. You bent forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck while your body convulsed with giggles. Tech laughed along, bringing his arms back around you to hold you in place. When you finally looked up at him and the shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face, you knew you'd finally found your courage.

"Oh, Tech..." you chided, pressing your smiling lips against his own.

[spideymarvelws]

ooo!! no pressure but- #9 in random with in-game!techno? (i hope ur day's been alright!!)

my day has been decent lmaoo but your request definitely made it better😊I hope you enjoy!

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist / Prompt List

Prompt : “I want to try something,” “Oh god, please no.”

Warnings : just cute floof, mentions of killing, the voices being pricks

Word Count : 1.6k

Flowers Coated In Colour

Technoblade x GN!Reader

Techno let out a small sigh as he saw his cottage come into view. It was a long day for the piglin, with the sudden betrayal of Tommy, doomsday happening tomorrow and the extensive preparations for whatever dream had in store, it was safe to say that he was burnt out for the day.

His backed weighed heavy with supplies and tools, along with all the voices who just repeated the same thing over and over in his head.

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD 

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD 

He ended up killing a lot more animals and mobs that necessary in hopes that they might calm and decrease his aching head ache but nothing worked. They only grew more violent, frustrated with him that his sword met the body of a sheep and not the neck of a member of L'Manburg.

Which is why he rushed home, reaching the snowy biome earlier that anticipated. The sun was close to setting as he rode Carl into the stables, feeding him a little bit of hay and renewing his water before stepping back out and closing the fence shut.

He trudged to the front of the house, opening the door and slamming it shut, cursing that he might've woken you up. You often fell asleep in his arms and today was no exception. After returning home from the event at the community house (well, what was left of it), you both comforted each other by the fireplace, keeping each other close while whispering sweet and reassuring words.

It was one of the rare times the voices went silence, completely replaced by your presence. No wonder they were so rowdy now, pounding in the back of his head like splinters digging into his skin.

They must pay for there crimes

They have no chance against us

Manburg with fall

Dream seems sketchy

He might use you too

He will use you too

He fell back against the wooden doors, his rough hands slapping against his face, scratching at the scared skin. He wants to destroy L'Manburg, he wanted to watch as the country fell under his wrath, destroying the land it stood on.

The only thing keeping his back was you, was Phil, was all his pets and memories he held at his now joke of a secret home. Quackity and the rest of the butcher army had gotten to them once, used them against him and almost had him executed and you killed if it wasn't for Dream and Punz interfering. Phil had been put on house arrest and Carl stolen from his grasp.

Whose to say they wouldn't do it again? Whose to say that his efforts would lead to nothing but a stronger country that might end up a bigger threat to his cause.

Techno didn't have much weaknesses, some may argue that he had none at all. But he knew from the very beginning that his weakness was his relationships with a select few of people on the SMP and knowing that others were figuring that out as well, he was putting everyone he was close with at risk.

He felt unhinged, the small control he’s been holding on to for so long unraveling by the seems. He trying to keep it for tomorrow, but the voices only started to convince him more and more that he should walk into L’Manburg by himself and take out everyone in their sleep.

That wasn’t what his motives were. He wanted to take down the country, not the people. 

But the voices demanded blood.

Suddenly, he felt the soft touch of hands on his, closing around them and prying them off his face, breaking him out of his internal conflict. He hesitantly opened his eyes, meeting your worried, glittering eyes. 

And suddenly, everything went silent.

“Everything alright their Tech?” you asked, squeezing his hands for comfort.

He blinked, mustering a small smile for you, “Yeah, yeah everything’s... perfect.”

You nodded, letting go of his hands and moving them to his neck.

“Phil’s already asleep if that’s what you wondering,” you said softly, helping him take off his massive cape and resting it to the side. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, carefully prying off his skull mask over his face and taking off his crown with a huff and setting both items down besides his red cape.

“Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” you smiled up at him, taking his face into the palms of your hands. He sighed at the warmth, melting into your touch. He engulfed your small hands in his, finding comfort in your soft skin. 

“Long day?”

“You wouldn’t believe.”

You leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, sending a wave of pink up his face and his large ears to wiggle in delight. Usually, he would shake his head, move away from your affection. But in recent times he’s learnt to accept it and reciprocate it in the best way he could.

“Then come on then,” you cooed, taking his hand and pulling him to the carpet in front of the fireplace that had a mountain of pillows and blankets. You loved to snuggle into them, sometimes reading stories to Edward or just watching the flames slowly disappear.

You fell back against blankets, crossing your legs and placing a pillow in the middle. You raised your arms, gesturing for him to join you. He gave you a questioning look but gave in quickly, dragging his body and settling down on the floor, letting his back fall and his head bounce on the pillow in your lap. One of his legs were bent, the other laid out on the ground, his hands clasped together on his stomach.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, eye brows raised.

"I want to try something," you mumbled, passing your hand through his hair.

"Oh god, please no." he grumbled, but his tone contrasted to his movements. His eyes closed with his head tilted backwards, snorting in appreciation at your touch.

You rolled your eyes, tugging harshly at his hair changing his happy noises to a playful growl, "It's nothing bad Techno,"

"Well knowing you, that statement means nothing."

You scoffed, "Glad to know you think so highly of me,”

He whined when your hands felt his hair, glaring up at you. You looked down at him with a playful smile, squeezing his cheeks and making him pout, “Who knew the blood god was such a softie,”

His nose flared while you giggled at his reaction, reaching behind you and grabbing something he couldn't see.

“Now relax... I won’t be doing anything bad I promise.”

He was about to protest until he felt your fingers entangle themselves in. his hair once again, lulling back into a meditative state. You hummed as you worked on his hair, sometimes he would feel something thin and sharp poke at his scalp but he payed no mind to it.

As much as he loved anarchy and chaos, he would give up anything to stay like like with you forever. It was hard for him to trust people but when he did, he took advantage of the love and  you gave him and held everything you did together to his heart, valuing it more than money or strong tools and gear.

After a while, he started to doze off on your lap, eyes fluttering shut while you continued to work on his hair. After a few minutes, you finally finished.

“Done.” you whispered, shaking him out of his light slumber.

“I’m scared.” he mumbled, snuggling further into your lap.

“Hey, hey, don’t move.” you stilled his head with your hands, “You’re going to knock them out.”

“Knock what out?” he questioned, only to have you wave a mirror in front of his face. 

He bit his lip at the sight, grumbling under his breath. In his hair held various flowers, shades of blue, purple and pink standing out against his light pink locks. You gently tucked a rose pricked of its thorns behind his ear, leaning down to quickly peck his forehead.

“Now that you have short hair, I wanted to see if I could still decorate your hair without braiding it in,” you said shyly, “It’s not the most secure but I made it work..”

Techno chuckled, “You really miss the long hair don’t you?”

You nodded, twirling a loose piece of pink between your fingers, “More that you imagine... but- I think it’s growing on me.”

“That’s great,” he yawned, “Yeah, that’s great.”

You laughed, caressing the side of his face lightly, “Get some rest Techno, you got a big day tomorrow,”

He hummed, letting his eyes flutter shut, “Yeah... I do don’t I?”

You nodded, “Blowing up a country does call for rest,”

“Why yes-” he yawned once more, “Yes it does,”

With that he started to doze off, his cheek pressed against the cushion beneath him as his head lolled to the side. He wasn’t expecting to get any sleep tonight, he was ready to stay up all night, doing mindless tasks to distract him from the voices that never shut up in his head.

But while your touch faded from his mind, his breath lengthening into an even pattern, he knew everything would be alright.

As long as he had you...

Everything would be alright.

BONUS :

“Hey, what’s that in your hair techno?” dream asked as he sat comfortably on the obsidian grid, pointing to behind the anarchists head.

“Heh?” he sounded, his hand shooting to his hair and pulling out a small purple flower, slightly withered and blood coating the edges of the petals.

He smiled softly, letting his thumb pass on the delicate flower. Pocketing the plant, he kept his head high, adjusting his hold on his sword. He knew that it would further deteriorate in the small enclosure but he wanted proof to take home to you to say that your new methods of decorating his hair was more effective than you thought.

“Nothing Dream...” he finally mumbled, biting the inside of his lip to hide the smile forming on his face, “nothing at all...”

...

I like to think that techno lets out piglin noises when he’s happy🥰

Permanent Taglist (Dream SMP) : @ossinsworld @lunarinnit @chaosofsmarty

Technoblade Taglist : @hyumiid @whenpugzfly @sammyxn

[pekotranslates]

Traces of Two Pasts: Episode Tifa - pgs 40-52

Disclaimer: Also, I started this for fun so that my friends who don't have access can read it. I'm just another fan like you. With that said, I do try to be as faithful to the original source material as possible, and for those of you who can read Japanese, please support the author by buying his book.

Not everyone agreed with Chief Zonder's decision. The elderly—a major force in the village—began to make noise. They seemed to take a liking to Zangan's longevity exercises, and regretted not being able to memorize what was taught to them. They wanted someone to check if their poses were correct, and wished to learn the remaining exercises he was supposed to have taught them.

The village chief paid a visit at dinnertime.

"Hey, Tifa..." he said with a sullen expression. "Will you teach the old folks how to do Zangan's exercises properly?"

"Why Tifa?" her father asked. She just knew he would ask.

"Because Zangan named her. Told me that if we ever needed someone to mentor us, Tifa would be qualified. Said that she had the most controlled form* out of everyone who gathered there that day.

Kata, which means “form” in Japanese, is the term used to describe specific sequences of motion that are used to practice technique and execution in martial arts

It pleased her knowing that someone spoke of her like that when not in her presence, but it also caused her to be slightly embarrassed.

"Zonder, don't get my family involved."

"Aw, c'mon! I'm already in big trouble as it is. The old folks just won't let it go!"

"Hmph!" Brian Lockhart snorted. He enjoyed seeing the village chief squirm. She couldn't tell whether or not they actually got along with each other.

"Tifa, what do you think?"

"I'd just be teaching the elderly people those exercises, right? If that's all there is, then I'd like to try."

"Tifa..." her father began, but he swallowed back his complaint. He knew that it wasn't good for her to have too much time on her hands. "Well, if you're gonna do it, then do it right."

While preparing breakfast, Tifa heard a knock at the door, and opened to a woman’s face she barely recognized. It was an elderly woman called "Mon Amie" who was an aunt of sorts to Chief Zonder. Her hair was pulled back into a bun so tight that it looked like her eyes were being pulled straight up!

"Good morning to you. It's been a long time, Tifa. I heard that Zonder told you all about it. How about 2 gil per hour?"

"Sorry?" She had not heard about any renumeration.

"Well, you are thirteen now. Not a little girl anymore, so that doesn't cut it for you, eh? Alright then, how about 4 gil?"

"No, I don't want any money."

"That won't do. We are taking this very seriously, and you will be properly paid for your work."

No matter how much Zangan trusted her, would she really be up to the task? But, being able to earn her own money sounded very appealing, as if a whole new world had opened up to her.

Mon Amie took Tifa's silence as her wanting to bargain for higher wages.

"6 gil."

"Alright. 6 gil it is then."

"Brian never did leave the village. He wanted to keep Thea all to himself." Mon Amie suddenly brought up her parents during their exercise routine at the public square.

"Really?" said Tifa, adjusting Mon Amie's arm posture. She needed to get her to straighten her back and push out her chest a bit more for the desired result.

"She was quite the popular one, that child."

It wasn’t very pleasant hearing her mother being called "that child", yet Tifa encouraged her. Listening to the elderly tell old stories was a part of her job. The responsibility she felt from receiving wages tempered her patience.

"You should leave the village," said Mon Amie suddenly. "Doesn't it sound like fun going around to different places with Master Zangan?"

"It sure does."

"Alright, you don't have to play along with me. No need for you to learn things like that. Just think about it carefully, okay? Something needs to change for women here in Nibelheim."

Tifa silently nodded as she propped up Mon Amie's arm.

"There weren't any women around in my day who held this kind of thinking. But that Strife girl”—she was speaking of Cloud's mother—"tried to leave. Not sure if it's because she hated it here, or if she dreamed of going to the big city."

Mon Amie abruptly altered her pose, ruining her base form.

"To the traditional Nibelheim women, she seemed pretty unconventional. We all refused to accept her ways, but secretly felt the same. Even though we scolded her, deep down inside we were cheering her on. We even felt jealous of her for carving out her own path. Perhaps she changed something in us, little by little.”

Tifa lifted up Mon Amie's knee. "Up high like this. Thank you."

She supported Mon Amie as the woman’s body rocked back and forth.

"But Claudia remained in the village, didn't she?" said Tifa.

"Well, that’s because she fell in love. You see, a man traveled here. Claudia was helping out at the inn at the time. She must have been taken in by the outside air he brought with him. And he was a pretty fellow. I’m sure you see it when you look at Cloud. That boy got the best of both his parents!”

“Right…”

“But, just like the wind, he just couldn’t keep still. Not sure if Cloud learned how to walk yet, but around that time he told her he would go to the mountains, but never came back. They found his belongings though. His body probably got eaten by monsters. You were lucky you didn’t meet the same fate.”

Tifa braced herself. Was she going to bring up that incident?

“Cloud egging you on to climb Mt. Nibel… Maybe that was in his blood.”

Mon Amie’s body began to sway. Tifa had stopped holding onto her causing her to lose her balance. She couldn’t regain her footing in time, and fell flat down on her backside.

“Alright then," said Tifa. "Now let’s use the opposite leg. Please lift up your knee.”

Tifa held out a helping hand to her, but Mon Amie refused and got up on her own.

“Quite strict for a pretty face.”

“That’s because I get paid 6 gil to be.”

Before long, she became more attentive. She noticed Mon Amie lifting up her other knee, but it was at the wrong height again. While Tifa helped her to adjust, Mon Amie said, “You really don’t remember anything? You know, about that accident you got into?”

She was eight years old when she got into that accident on Mt. Nibel. Cloud was with her. The villagers chose to believe the story based on Emilio and the others’ testimonies, and nothing else could be said about it. Tifa really couldn't remember what happened.

"No, unfortunately not..."

Whether the elderly came to her for exercising or just to chat, it was tougher than she had imagined. Her father laughed at her and said he wouldn't have anything to do with them, even for 100 gil.

They never listened and were set in their ways, even the ones who kept away and smiled modestly at her. They just had a different view on things, and sulked if nobody paid them attention.

The topics they discussed also surprised Tifa, and sometimes hurt her too. She disliked whenever they brought up how her body looked so grown. There would be someone who sensed her discomfort or resentment, and would try to change the subject, but then it would turn into whom she should be with and things of that nature.

So, all things considered, Tifa preferred hearing them going on about herself rather than her father’s failed romances, or whom her mother used to hang out with before she got married to him. To the elderly townsfolk, her father and others his age were still “the village youth”.

After her day finished and she was about to go to sleep, she thought to herself that maybe there would be a time when she would be the one telling someone else about what happened today, or about some news she heard from another person. Telling the same stories over and over again, everyday just like the next, until she, herself, became just a relic of an era in village history.

※

“They confused me at first, but I got used to being around them, and then it wasn’t so bad anymore. That feeling of wanting someone to talk to—Everyone has that,” explained Tifa.

“So that’s where you learned to entertain guests? From spending your time talking to old folks?” asked Barret.

“Possibly. Maybe that did me good. More and more of the elderly signed up, and they started calling their morning gatherings the ‘Calisthenics Club’.”

“It’s like that at Seventh Heaven too,” said Barret with some intensity.

Aerith urged him to talk.

“It used to be just a small shop owned by this one gramps, but when Tifa started working there, the business picked up. Men crowded the place. Know what I mean, Red?”

“What I’m more interested in is what happened to Zangan afterward? I can sort of imagine based on your fighting style, Tifa...” said Red XIII.

“You’re right. There was a little more that happened before I got to where I'm at.”

※

A month passed after the start of the Calisthenics Club. All morning Tifa would teach the exercises and set aside time for her reading and arithmetic. The afternoon she'd go to the mountains and work hard towards building up her strength and stamina, and then would return home before sunset so her father wouldn’t worry. At night she would examine Zangan's writings and practice her form, reviewing the materials over and over again so as to not overlook anything.

One day, she received a letter from Emilio. He wrote about the fast-paced lifestyle in the big city, and told her about everything he found perplexing: arguments he had had with people, things he ate, the social inequality, and their differences in moral values.

“But whenever I get discouraged, it’s you I think about, Tifa, and then I imagine that day when I’ll come and get you. I'll write to you sometimes and teach you about the city, so you won't be so confused when that time comes.”

Who do you think you are? That's how she honestly felt reading the letter.

Zangan appeared, acting as if nothing had happened. He knocked on the door just in time to greet her father and asked for his permission to call Tifa out, and then led her to the river where they first met.

“Master Zangan, please let me be your student. I want to be stronger.”

“That’s exactly the answer I was looking for, but what’s the matter, Tifa? I sense your impatience. Why are you in such a hurry?”

“That’s not it!” she replied, but felt self-conscious. “No… It’s because I got that letter from my friend.”

“What kind of letter?”

“I think it’s because I don’t want to lose. I don’t want to lose to anyone who left the village.”

“Hmm. My hand-to-hand combat techniques are not meant to be used to make you feel superior to others.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. But the answer to that can only be found through diligent study. All right. I will acknowledge you if you pass my test.”

“Test?”

“Show me everything you’ve learned from Volume 1. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

Tifa performed a sequence of forms from the physical training method.

“One more time, from the beginning.”

“Okay.”

This time Zangan interrupted with instructions.

"Check the book to see the direction your palms should be facing."

Tifa crouched down over the book and flipped through the pages. The form was wrong from the very start. Should have been above not below.

“I was wrong.”

“Try again.”

When she extended both hands and slightly shifted the direction of her palms, she felt a different set of muscles tingling.

“Everything from the Book of Secrets must be obeyed. Don’t try to interpret it another way or decide that your way is better. While disciplining your body, you must learn to be faithful to your decisions. If I take you in as my student, you will become stronger. So, you must cultivate your mind to control that power. The greater and stronger the power to handle, the greater the responsibility of its owner. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The second time around, Zangan pointed out any minor mistakes she made. Each time she would have to go back and confirm with the Book of Secrets before advancing, which made things take twice as long. Fatigue built up in her arms and legs.

“Alright, now relax and close your eyes. Focus your attention and check the condition of your body. Does it hurt anywhere?”

“My upper back… I wouldn’t say it hurts but it feels like it’s burning...”

She slipped her right hand underneath her left armpit until it touched the lower part of her shoulder blade. Digging her fingers into it felt good.

“Hmph!” Zangan gave a satisfying nod. “That’s your shoulder blade. What you’re pressing into is the trapezius muscle. Surrounding it is your deltoid, infraspinatus, psoas minor and other muscles. The second volume will teach you how to train each one of those muscles on your back,” he said, while holding out a booklet to her. It was Volume 2.

“If you want to live your life with pride then pay close attention to your back. Squeeze your shoulder blades together, chest out. Walking through life with a beautiful posture is also part of your training.”

“Got it.”

“Let’s get started. Well then, onto Volume 2, No. 2-1-1, scapular push-ups.”

Zangan immediately prostrated himself on the ground, and lowered his chest. Tifa hastened to follow his example.

“All you're doing is supporting your whole body with your arms. Concentrate on your shoulder blades. Rotate them outwards—protract, retract, protract.”

It was her first time experiencing those movements. How was she supposed to move to protract her shoulder blades? She couldn’t picture it in her mind. Glancing over at Zangan she noticed he was rotating his shoulders outward, something her cat, Maru, often did.

“You look like a cat,” she said.

“Right. There’s a lot we can learn from cats.”

She focused her attention on her scapula, going up and down, until the repetition of movements were drilled into her body. Zangan rose and watched over Tifa for some time before clearing his throat.

“Good!”

The movements were subtle but still made her perspire.

“That’s because the muscles across your back are wider. Moving them increases the blood flow and raises your temperature, so that’s why you’re working up a sweat.”

After completing Volume 2, Tifa was sweating profusely. She felt unthinkable pain throughout her whole back.

“Alright, any questions? If you do, now’s your chance.”

She wanted to say, yes, but nothing came to mind at the moment.

“If not, then we’ll move onto Volume 3.”

“Huh?” she couldn’t help but shout. Her whole body was screaming in pain. Zangan ignored her and continued.

“Volume 3 is for chest and abs. We’re going to train your front body. The pectoralis major muscle is roughly divided into three parts: upper, middle and lower. There are several different ways to effectively train it, but I’ll teach you the basic concepts.”

“Alright…”

“At your age, your overall motor skills are complete, and in that regard, you excel. You haven’t had any special training, have you? If so, then you must have been born with this. Treasure it.”

“I will.”

She felt energy pour into her body. Perhaps listening to Zangan talk with a relaxed mind helped her to recover from fatigue.

“After a while, we’ll concentrate on building your muscles. But you will not be using any equipment except your body. We won’t be using barbells or dumbbells until you’re much older. Besides, our Zangan-ryu hardly finds them necessary. That is because I prescribe individual fighting styles that suit each of my students. You don’t need arms built like logs or a bulky chest. What you need is to build up a fighting style that will utilize those reflexes, that body, and your speed. Well, what do you want to do? Shall we call it a day?”

“No. Please go on.”

She didn’t want to disappoint the first person who had managed to earn her respect.

“Yes, that’s the spirit! Alright. But we’ll stop here for today. Let’s call this current level of fatigue your limit. Keep it in mind. You have a long way before you can try to challenge that limit to surpass it. Continuity is more important now than ever.”

On their way back, a realization came over Tifa regarding Zangan’s test. It didn't annoy her. If her father tried to make her work like that she’d probably stop talking to him for three days in a row. With those thoughts in mind, she walked her teacher back to the inn.

“Say hello to your father for me.”

As she stood in front of her house she could smell the scent of spices in the air. Spices that her mother liked to use in her best recipe. It was her father’s favorite dish, but since Tifa didn’t really like it, it was hardly ever served at the dining table.

She opened the door and said, “I’m home.”

“Welcome back.” Her father, dressed in an apron, peeked out at her from the kitchen.

“This smell… Huh? Is it mom’s?”

“I was really craving it... Oh, but I made something else for you.”

She was filled with remorse. She didn’t like the way he looked or the tone of voice he used when trying to gauge her mood, but it was all her fault for making it that way.

Novel by Kazushige Nojima

Translated by pekotranslates

Proofread by Eerie

[a-d-curtis]

Artifacts

“Uh…” Aang looked down at the dilapidated wooden bucket that was placed reverently into his hands. The man bestowing it sank deferentially into a low bow; his head ducked so deeply that all Aang could see was the back of the man’s thin topknot tied far back on his balding head. “Uh… thanks?”

Aang looked down at the bucket in his hands. The bucket was old; that much was obvious. Aang held it up to get a closer look. The metal braid that held the darkened, dried wooden planks together was rusted until it was nearly black. When Aang looked into the bucket, he noted that the plank at the bottom didn’t fit snuggly like it should.

“Do you want me to… um, to help you fix your bucket? If you soak this wood, the planks will expand tightening the planks, and I can straiten out that bottom piece for you… this isn’t very useful if we can’t get it watertight again. But I can always make you a new one, if you, you know… need a water bucket… or something…?” Aang trailed off as the gentleman rose slowly out of his bow, looking at Aang with a look of utter disbelief, as though Aang’s words filling him with dismay.

“What?!” the man sputtered. “Make a new one?! No, no! You must not understand! This is an authentic, an original, air nomad water bucket!” He enunciated each word as though only someone truly obtuse would not see this for the prize that it was.

“Oh, right…” Aang hedged, looking at the beat-up old bucket. “I see.”

Of course Aang knew what this was. He and his friends had carried buckets just like this to and from the stream near the Southern Air Temple everyday. Each monk child would carry one in each hand as they bounded back from the stream, anxious to deliver the water to the cook. It was a mundane thing, something that just needed to get done. The sooner they got through with that chore, the more likely they might be able to squeeze in a quick game of airball before breakfast!

Out of habit, Aang looked behind him, searching for Katara to swoop in and help him navigate this awkward interaction. But of course she wasn’t there, Aang remembered with a slight drop in his stomach that he had come on this trip solo. Katara was still back in Ba Sing Se, busy working on a new project for the museum. Aang didn’t plan to be here in this small village more than a day, so instead of pulling Katara away from her work to come with him as he wanted to, he simply opted to handle this little task alone.

Aang held up the bucket with an importance he certainly didn’t feel and declared, “Why so it is! This is… um, very… special.” He looked at the bucket again, biting on his lip at his choice of words. To him, this bucket looked anything but special.

But the man beamed with delight at Aang’s praise!

“Yes, yes, it is!”

The man in his enthusiasm took the bucket from Aang’s hands and turned it over excitedly. “See!” The man pointed out. “Right here! An Air Nomad symbol!” Again he spoke the words like they were wondrous. “Carved right here on the bottom!”

Aang bent over to look. Sure enough. There it was. Three Air swirls carved (rather poorly, Aang noted) in the bottom wood piece.

“Well,” Aang said, brightening up a little as he took the bucket back from the man. “that would explain why the bottom doesn’t fit!” Aang shifted his staff into the crook of his elbow and turned the bucket upside down under his arm and gave the bottom a firm pound with his fist, knocking the bottom panel right out. The man gave an audible squawk, his hands jumping over his mouth aghast as the piece of wood fell into the dirt.

But Aang kept talking as he picked up the bucket’s base and flipped it over, fitting it back into the bottom of the water bucket. “See we always put the symbol on the inside of the bucket.” After making sure the base was fit in more securely, Aang handed the bucket back to the man. “There! That ought to hold water a lot better now! I still suggest you soak the whole thing, but now it ought to do it’s job just fine!”

The man looked at the bucket shoved so casually into his hands with a gaping mouth for a moment. Then his words began to tumble out of his mouth. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Avatar Aang! Now I know: the symbol goes on the inside! Oh I wish my father was here to see! You see my father acquired this treasure on one of his travels along the Granite Trading Route when he was a young man, bought it off a peddler near Dong Shaan City. This has sat in a place of prominence in my house ever since! My father had a great appreciation of antiques; and he had quite a collection. But this was his most prized – his only genuine Air Nomad artifact!”

The man’s face sobered, his voice taking on a formal tone as he once again fell into a deep bow, holding the bucket out towards Aang reverently. “But I would like you to have it now, Avatar Aang. A way to return it to its rightful place, among its rightful people. It wouldn’t be right for me to keep it, when an Air Nomad still exists to return it to.”

Aang hesitated before taking the old bucket apprehensively. The bucket suddenly felt heavier, and he felt heavier too. Sure he had run into situations like this before, where people felt inclined to present him with gifts. But it was always the most awkward for him when-- like now-- they were gifts recovered from the Air Nomads: a set of long cooking chopsticks, a half-broken glider, a rare item of fragile old saffron clothing. But these items didn’t belong to Aang, and they held no significance to him personally. Like this bucket. It is true that it appeared to be a genuine Air Nomad bucket. But to him, it was just a bucket. Something they had used a dime a dozen when he was a child. A tool. Nothing sacred or important and certainly not something revered. What would he do now with a leaky old bucket?

Wish for a new one, probably. Aang answered his own question ruefully. One that held water better, I’m sure.

He knew Katara would probably be thrilled if she were here. She was always getting excited over every little Air Nomad trinket or knickknack they found. In fact, a new Air Nomad exhibit at the Museum of Natural History is what Katara was working on right now in Ba Sing Se. In addition to working as a consultant for the project, Katara was also donating a great many of the things she had collected to the exhibit, things she had gathered over the past couple of years since she and Aang had begun traveling together.

Aang never objected when Katara would accumulate Air Nomad objects, and he appreciated her enthusiasm. Really. He was touched by how important his heritage was to her. However, there was something about it that more recently had begun to bother him. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but Katara’s tendency to “collect” his people’s leftover things didn’t always sit right with Aang.

Maybe it was something about how collecting these “antiques” made him feel even more distant from his people; each item proof of how long they had been gone, how far removed he was from them. Proof that his family was little more than memories and artifacts now. These items served as a concrete reminder that his people were extinct, gone forever. It made it harder to just forget and pretend he was just on a journey right now. That the others were still out there, just not right here with him.

Aang imagined taking this man’s bucket back to the museum. He imagined it being put behind glass on a display pedestal. What would people gain from observing this bucket? How would a bucket like this make them feel? It certainly wouldn’t make them laugh remembering the time that Dhun got his head stuck in one of these buckets when he’d been showing off for the girls from the western air temple and fell head first into the custodial closet after tumbling off his glider. They wouldn’t imagine the taste of sweet exhilaration from that water fight Aang had started that time when all the kids had decided to dump their buckets on each other instead of delivering them to the cook (they also wouldn’t recall the feeling of raw hands after lugging one of these buckets up the northern chanting tower to scrub every, single, stair as punishment for their water fight.)

What would this bucket teach a common museum patron about Aang’s people? About who they were and how they lived and what they valued?

Nothing. It would mean nothing at all.

And seeing it on display would only solidify the cold, concrete feeling in Aang’s gut that he was also an artifact now. A remnant of a nation dead. And long since, at that. Should he be on display? Did he now fit better in a museum among his people’s remaining relics than anywhere else?

Maybe it was these unspoken apprehensions that spurred Aang to find excuses to leave the museum as often as possible. Aang knew that the Museum Curator would gladly have Aang take up a permanent residence at the museum if he could finagle it, just so the dry little man could pepper him with questions about his people’s agricultural practices, yearly migration habits, and gross national trade products. Katara’s project was a good one, but one that Aang found himself finding more and more excuses not to be a part of.

Aang hadn’t told Katara any of these feelings, so he knew he couldn’t expect her to just know. And sometimes he found himself falling into the same trap, getting excited or possessive of every scrap of his culture they came across. But lately he had been working extra hard, actively trying not to. This was exactly the kind of attachment his people had tried to avoid; placing value on something that was inherently temporary and unimportant.

Aang knew he couldn’t let go of his attachments to the people in his life – a spiritual flaw that he had long since come to accept about himself – but attachment to things was still something he still tried valiantly to avoid.

Aang looked up from the bucket in his hands at the man before him, his head still bowed, although he glanced up apprehensively, evaluating Aang’s reaction to his gift. Aang could see the sincerity in the man’s eyes, his wish to honor the Last Airbender with this gift. But there was pity there too. And maybe even a little guilt? A glimpse of the world’s collective shame at allowing an entire nation to be massacred.

Aang was used to these kinds of looks: looks of pity, shame, guilt. He had lost more than anyone would truly understand, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be pitied all the time for it.

Aang took a fortifying breath, and as he exhaled, he let go of the flare of resentment he’d felt. It was his choice how he would respond. Would he pity himself too? Or would he choose to live in the moment, accepting without clinging to the loss?

Aang smiled and moved the bucket handle onto his arm, and his glider into the crook of his shoulder so he could bow respectfully to the man. “What did you say your name was?” Aang asked warmly.

“Um, I didn’t say, but it’s Shao, sir,” the man replied as he looked self-consciously to the side, his shoulders still hunched in a bow.

“Well, Shao!” Aang said cheerfully as he wrapped his arm around Shao’s shoulder, lifting him from his bow and compelling the man to walk with him. “This is a really nice bucket—I mean a really nice genuine Air Nomad artifact. And I am honored by your generosity and your gift.” Which was true. Aang was honored that Shao would offer something that clearly meant so much to him. “Please consider your gift accepted and appreciated. However,” Aang stopped walking and turned toward Shao, placing the bucket back in his hands, “it would make me happiest if you would keep it. Remember your father when you look at it. The Air Nomads, we gift this back to you.”

Shao looked at the bucket in his hands, stunned before a glow began to lighten his expression leaving a large smile radiating brightly on his face. “Thank you, Avatar Aang! I, and my children, will treasure this forever!”

Aang clapped Shao’s back heartily before walking backwards several jaunty steps.

“Or maybe just get yourself a drink of water with it,” Aang winked before opening his glider and lifting lightly into the sky, flying light and free, unburdened. Remembering his people by being one.

Just a Nomad on the wind.

………………

Other works in this series:

Chant

Incense

[fandomscombine]

Make The First Move

George Weasley x Reader

BG: The Yule Ball is only a month away, but the boy you were hoping to ask you out still hasn’t make a move. So you decided to take matters into your own hands.

(With guess appearances of Fred and Cedric)

This is an entry for @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ ’s 1k Followers Writing Challenge

Fluff prompt #1 “Do you find it sexy when girls make the first move, or should I wait for you to do it yourself?���

Fluff prompt #6 “If you want to make a move, today would be the perfect time to go for it.”

Trope #8 Friends to lovers

WC: 2623

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

y/n l/n is not a girly girl. You would categorize your fashion mentality to value comfort and functionality more than style.

Yes, during the weekends, you do tend to rock a graphic tee, jeans, soft sneakers and a outwear of choice, depending on what you’re feeling that day- be it a leather jacket, causal blazer to a denim jacket.

Hey in your defence, the Scottish Highlands where Hogwarts is located isn’t exactly the warmest place, besides students are only allowed to wear casual clothes during the weekends.

But every now and then you do wanna pop on a skirt or a dress, especially when its warm outside.

This upcoming event though…. you, like everyone else is oh so very much do want to feel like a star! To feel elegant! Luxurious!

That’s right the Yule Ball is only a month away. It is all that is in every single student’s mind ever since it was announced. Who would their date to the ball be? What outfit would they wear?

A number of students had already picked their respective dates and dresses. However, a remaining select few have not done either- Like yourself. Time is running out and the pool of available potential partners is decreasing day by day.

You didn’t mind going alone, as long as you have a great time with friends, going alone it isn’t really a big deal. But there is a small childlike wishful thinking that wants to have a fairy tale experience.

It also isn’t helpful that you had started to develop feelings for a certain redheaded twin over the summer. You swear that he too felt the dynamic changed between the two of you- who knew that 3 weeks tinkering with joke shop ideas and fixing out the burrow’s garage could be so impactful.

Though now coming to think of it, could you have just read the signs all wrong? The lingering stares, the tighter and longer hugs… Could this be signs that he planning of ways to murder you? Because if this were all romantic signs, wouldn’t he have had asked you out to the ball by now? It was no secret that you hadn’t said yes to anyone yet.

So, what’s taking so long? George Weasley is one of the most confident and popular guys on campus. Surely, he wouldn’t chicken out or get nervous to ask you.

Right??

Pushing boy trouble aside, you focus back on the dress catalogue your mum had sent you earlier today.

Flipping through the pages, 2 dresses caught you eye. One was a short tule the other had a long side leg slit.

You were in the process of bookmarking the page when you felt the catalogue being pulled out of your grasp.

‘Hey!’ You instinctively shouted to the culprit.

‘What’s this?’ George said, turning to the front cover. ‘“Madam Bella’s Evening Gowns, Autumn/Winter 1994”’

‘Give it back George!’ You tried to take it from him, but he quickly held it above his head.  

You stood on the bench in hopes to extend your reach. You could almost take hold-

‘Catch Freddie!’ Shouted George and threw it across the table.

Fred flipped to the dogeared pages. ‘Ahh..’ He was scanning through the choices you had circled. ‘Great choices indeed, my dear y/n!’

At first you weren’t sure if he was teasing you or being sincere.

That must had shown on your face as Fred continued, ‘I’m serious y/n/n!’ He placed his left hand on his heart and raise his right. ‘I swear! But you would look good in any dress anyway.’

You blushed at his compliment. ‘Thanks for the confidence boost Freddie.’

He hands back the catalogue to you, and as you took it, he whispered in your ear. ‘A little hint though,’ He shifts back a bit- now being face to face. ‘My vote is on the slit dress...’

Your brows scrunched together- was this boy seriously giving you fashion advice?

‘….I know George would like that..’ He steals a quick glance towards his twin, who has now turn bright red, both from being embarrassed and furious at him. ‘… I-I mean, it would match George’s dress robes.’

Fred sends you a final wink and bids you both goodbye.

You watch Fred exit the Great Hall, never letting him out of sight until he turns the corner. Which George to grateful for, as that had bought him time to calm his face down.

That was the one of the weirdest exchanges you’ve ever had yet, but you also couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to it.

George cleared his throat ‘So…y/n...Have you got a date yet?’

‘No why?’ You look over at him and you thought that you might give your hypothesis a try. Smirking hopefully, you asked ‘Are you gonna ask me?’

If you only knew what was going on inside of George’s head, the boy was panicking.

It was as if time slowed. Or it was because George’s thoughts are going a thousand miles a second.

Of course, he wanted to ask you to go with him!

But his brain was feeding him of insecurities. What if you didn’t want to go with him? What if you did say yes but only as a friend?

Plus, he didn’t want to ask you in front of all these people, thinking that you might be pressured by the crowd to agree.

No, he wanted to do it in a private, more intimate setting. Deserving of your beauty and grand place to confess his feelings.

He’d dream that in return you would say ‘Yes, I loved to go to the ball with you, George!’ and perhaps even say those 3 words he’s been dying to hear-more in the romantic nature than of friendship- and if he was lucky, maybe even share a kiss, that would be the best case scenario.

The worst-case scenario would be you rejecting him, possibly forever ruining the relationship with his best friend and having his heart broken- at least that case, nobody else would witness that.

‘Eh George?? Georgie?? Hello??’ You frantically wake a hand in front of him. ‘Earth to George Weasley!!!’

Great, when you finally had the courage to ask him to be your date-albeit indirectly- You broke him.

‘uuh.. I… I have to go...’ George looked like a deer caught in headlights

‘What?’

His eyes, dart upwards, thinking of an excuse. ‘Yes, I have to go… GO CLEAN MY SOCKS!’ Unfortunately, for him, in an uncharacteristic manner, he failed to think of a believable lie. ‘I’ll see you later!’

And with that he rushed out the Great Hall, leaving you once again gawking with a confused face at another Weasley twin.

~

You had your back against one of the rock formations near the Black lake, deciding which of the 2 dresses you would be wearing to the ball.

You were enjoying the last good sunny autumn days, taking in the sights of other students having a picnic on this beautiful Saturday. When suddenly a figure had landed right in front of you.

‘Ahhh!’ You had jumped in fright, causing you to slip a bit.

‘I got you, I got you!’ You felt arms holding you tight, preventing you from falling off the rocks.

Once you had regained your balance you check to see the perpetrator that had gave you a heart attack.

‘CEDRIC DIGGORY!!!!!!!! I TOLD YOU TO STOP DOING THAT!!’

The boy chuckled. ‘I know y/n/n, but I just couldn’t help it!’

You narrowed your eyes at him. Which made him laugh even more.

‘You know you love me.’ He gushed, bring you into a hug.

‘And that is my weakness’ Your reply being muffled by his shoulder. You Cedric were as close as brother and sister, having basically grew up together as both your families super close. Your father is best friends with his father and so are your mothers ever since their Hogwarts days. Therefore, naturally you and Cedric have a close bond too, being joined at the hip since birth-the only time part was the 3 months that you are older by.

It has been a while since you two had caught up with each other, him being busy with the Triwizard Tournament ofcourse.

‘Have you got any idea about the second task?’

‘Yeahh’ Cedric gulped.

You crocked a brow. Not buying his bullshit.

Cedric scratched the back of his neck. ‘Fine, I haven’t….’ Gazing towards the lake, he continued. ‘But I think it’s got something to do about the water.’

You take hold of his hand. ‘Hey, it’s alright. You’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.’

‘Thanks y/n. I thought initially you wouldn’t be against me joining.’ He confessed.

‘You know I would support you no matter what. But don’t get me wrong, I’m worried for you Ced, always am. The tournament just upped it to level 1000! But I know that you have it in you to win this, to be the Triwizard Champion!’ You beamed. ‘Imagine that Ced, a Triwizard Champion in the family!’

‘It would be great, would it?’

‘Now to the matter at hand, The Yule Ball.’

‘What about it?’

‘Have you asked someone yet? You enquired.

‘Well there is this gorgeous lady that I’ve been meaning to ask…’ He hinted. ‘Though I am waiting for the right opportunity to ask her, you see everything has to be perfect!’

‘Awww, what an absolute sweetheart!’ You swooned.

Behind Cedric, you could have sworn that you saw someone in the trees. However, in your eagerness to know more of Cedric’s possible date, you brushed it off as the swaying of the branches and falling autumn leaves.

‘How about you? Has Mr. Beater asked you yet?’

You sighed. ‘Not exactly…’

Cedric leaned forward with hands on his chin, interested to hear more.

‘He asked if I had got a date yet, to which I said no. Then teased if he was gonna ask me.’ You recalled. ‘Then he froze. I guess I broke him, cause the next thing he said was that he’s got to go clean his socks.’

That had Cedric doubling over. ‘George really said that?!?!!?’ He had his arms wrapped around his stomach. ‘Clean his socks?!!??’

‘Yeah yeah yeah, laugh all you want Diggory. But you still hadn’t asked Cho out yet.’

‘Heyy! I told you I am waiting for the right moment!’

‘C’mon Ced, Sweet intentions aside. Cho has been declining offers to the ball, time is running out and I bet she is getting tired waiting for you to make a move, especially this close to the ball.’ You know how much Cedric likes Cho and hate to see him sad if and when Cho doesn’t get tired of waiting for him. ‘Sooner or later she might just say yes to some other guy, cause you’re talking so long!’

‘I’m sorry Cedric.’ You had realized that you projected your own frustrations on him. ‘I didn’t mean to go off on you like that.’

‘I know y/n, it’s alright really.’ He smiled, having come up with an idea ‘How about this, the next time you see George, YOU ask him out?’ He suggested.

‘ME?!?’

‘Yes.’ He insisted. ‘That why we would get a definite answer. And this time not more asking in an indirectly direct way. - We don’t want another system error in that head of his. Deal?’

‘Deal’

Picking up the discarded catalogue, he remarked. ‘Hmmm, I think that the long one would suit the occasion better, don’t you think? Being it a formal event and all.’

You agreed. ‘and you‘re not the first one to say that too.’ You muttered-more to yourself.

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing!’

‘So what color are you thinking? Blue or…’

‘Oh I got that all figured out! I was thinking that since the point of the Triwizard Tournament is school unity, I want the grown to be featuring my house colours.’

~

Fred had ran back to the Gryffindor dormitories as fast as he could. Glad to spot that his twin brother laying down on the bed.

As much as he enjoys teasing his siblings. He could no longer endure the obliviousness of his brother and y/n. He can no longer take the constant nonessential pining, especially when they obviously like each other.

Fred had been trying to get them together for the past month, but it seems that subtly pushing them to the right direction isn’t working. Which leaves him with no choice.

‘If you want to make a move, today would be the perfect time to go for it’ Stated Fred.

‘What?’

‘I can’t take it anymore Georgie!’ He grabs his brother by the collar. ‘I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I KNOW YOU LIKE Y/N AND BELIEVE ME GEOGRE WHEN I SAY THAT SHE LIKES YOU BACK OKAY.’ Fred pleads, shaking George with each word. ‘AND YOU HAVE GOT TO MAKE A MOVE TODAY! NOW! ASK HER TO THE BALL BEFORE CEDRIC DOES.’

George now dizzy, mumbled. ‘What? How?.....How do you know this?’

‘I saw them together at the lake and me being the best brother that you have decided to eavesdrop.’ Fred admitted. ‘And guess what, Cedric plans to ask a gorgeous lady- y/n- to the yule ball but is just finding the perfect opportunity.’

‘Therefore, brother dearest, it’s only a matter of time til that happens. And I your very supportive wingman urge you to freaking ask y/n out RIGHT NOW before it’s too late.’

That news that Cedric might ask y/n to the ball before he does, had put George back into his senses.

In record time, George had tidy up his clothes and fixed his hair. ‘Right.’ He turned to Fred who was looking smug leaning on the door frame. ‘How do I look?’

‘Smashing.’

‘Great, Now get out of the way you prick.’

~

George was busy thinking on how to ask y/n out to the yule ball and possibly even side in the chance to ask to go on a date with him, when he accidentally bumped into someone.

‘Wooooahh careful George!’

Damnit! he thought, out of all the people in this huge school, he just had to bump into the one person he doesn’t want to see.

‘Diggory.’ George growled.

‘You two alright?’ Said a voice beside them.

In his annoyance towards Cedric, George hadn’t noticed that you were close by. ‘Yeah, I’m good.’

‘Heyy’ Cedric interrupted. George had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. ‘I’ll see you later okay?’

Cedric kissed your forehead and whispered. ‘Good luck.’

This was is. George interpreted that sibling affection as you going out with Cedric to the ball.

Accepting defeat, he cleared his throat. ‘I guess imma go too-‘

‘Wait George!’ You held onto his arm to prevent him from leaving. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

‘Go ahead.’ Replied George, curious onto what it is that is so important to ask him.

‘Do you find it sexy when girls make the first move, or should I wait for you to do it yourself?’

‘Hmm?’ George once again confused.

‘Gosh you are slow sometimes aren’t you.’ You chuckled. You take a step closer to him, coming up face to face. ‘George Weasley will you go to the ball with me?’

It took a second for George to believe what he was hearing. ‘YES!!’ He exclaimed then recomposed himself. ‘Yes, I would love to go to the ball with you.’

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he decided to take it one step further- cause what else has he got to lose? ‘Will you y/n l/n go on a date with me?’

You bring your arms to his neck, his him close. ‘I’d love nothing more.’ You grinned, pulling him into a long awaited kiss.

 Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1​

[queen--of--maggots]

Did the SPK know that Near killed Mikami?

Matsuda stated at the end of the manga that Near might have killed Mikami with the Death Note. There are several hints that this is the case and barely anything, which speaks against it. If you are interested, check out the analyses by casuistor and mikami about this topic.

Let’s just say he did it. Killing Mikami is something Near could have done without involving the SPK. This raises the question, were they aware of it or not? Considering their behavior, they knew it. But before I come to this, I’ll start with the arguments which speak against it. There are two legit reasons why he wouldn’t have involved them.

First, they could have moral concerns and, in the worst case, stop the cooperation with Near. This is not very likely, though. Near would have chosen people who value the results over the means. It is clear from the beginning that solely clinging to the law will be impossible if he follows in L’s footsteps. Therefore, surrounding himself with people who have a problem with illegal actions seems contra-productive. We can also see in canon this was not an issue. Halle and Rester abducted Misa. They even admitted that they would have used the force of arms if she would have been uncooperative. They didn’t protest either when Near wanted to imprison Light in a private facility. (Near has the same right to do this, you have the right to kidnap someone and held them captive. None.) Also, Near’s defeat would mean they are all going to die. This and the fact that Mikami would face an execution anyway if convicted probably help to overlook the immorality of sacrificing his life. Morals in general are a good thing, but are they worth dying for? I guess moral concerns can be ruled out.

The second reason is the risk, which comes with involving more people. The more people know about the plan, the higher is the chance of someone slipping information, accidentally or not. If the Task Force finds out what Near has done, they would most likely quit their cooperation. It would also give Light the opportunity to make it look like a complot against him since Near could have used the Death Note and the manipulation ability to fake the evidence he needs. So this argument is legit. But wait. It is legit for Halle and Rester. Gevanni on the other hand... Gevanni was the one who made the fake Death Note. It is physical pretty much impossible to duplicate the book exactly in one day since it does not only involve writing names but copying the book itself. (I wrote something about the topic here.) The best he could possibly have done is a mediocre copy, which wouldn’t fool Mikami. Also, Gevanni must have been aware that Mikami would probably test the Death Note before going to the warehouse. He observed him for weeks and knew him well. Unless Gevanni is incredibly stupid, he can only come to the conclusion that Near’s plan is doomed to fail. So, informing him about the manipulation is less risky. Otherwise, facing potential death could make Gevanni’s behavior unpredictable, and Near doesn’t need something like this endangering his plan.

What about Rester and Halle? Rester helped with the Death Note copy, but it is unclear how much he knew about Mikami. Keeping certain information restricted to certain people is a better strategy than telling everyone everything, especially after the incident with the spy. Therefore, it is likely that Rester only had basic information about him. If this is enough to figure out that Mikami won’t fall for this trick can’t be said with certainty. What can be said is that Rester’s behavior in the warehouse indicates that he knew it too, regardless. The way Rester and the SPK in general handled Mikami is wrong on so many levels, which can’t be a coincidence. Let take a look at the mistakes.

After Mikami tried to kill them a minute ago, Gevanni and Rester handcuff him, but with his arms in front of his body.

While handcuffs in front of your body restrain the movement of your arms, you still have a good range and mobility with them. If you handle a potentially dangerous person, which applies to Mikami, you put their arms on the back first before handcuffing them. This makes the arms almost useless.

They do not search his long coat for Death Note pages or other weapons, like a knife, nor do they check outside for something like this. (His briefcase is still outside. It could contain a weapon or real Death Note pages.) Up to Kiyomi’s abduction, Mikami only showed Gevanni what he and Light wanted him to see. How can the SPK be sure that Light’s plan did not involve a plan B in case something goes wrong? How do they know that Mikami did not come up with a plan B on his own after realizing he lead Gevanni to the Death Note? Maybe it is not very likely that Mikami prepared a trap or that he had something in his coat, but how can they be sure without checking? They can’t. This situation could decide between life and death. Searching his coat and outside takes a few minutes, death is permanent.

They do not force Mikami in a position, which would give them more time to react in case he does something, neither do they force him to hold his hands in a position where they are visible. Mikami is standing for the most part. This is the worst possible position. It allows him to charge at someone or make a run for the door, giving the SPK almost no time to react. Usually (if the handcuffs are on the back), he should have been forced to lie on his stomach. Or, since it is not possible with the hands in front of him, they should at least have made him sit in a way, which allows seeing his hands at any time.

Rester doesn’t aim his gun at Mikami. In fact, he put it back into his holster. The only one with a gun is Gevanni, who doesn’t pay attention to Mikami.

If Mikami would do something, Rester and Halle have to draw their guns first, unlock them, aim, and shoot. Gevanni has to turn around, aim and shoot (if his gun is unlocked). This, plus the few seconds they need to realize what is going on, would take way too long in this situation.

When Mikami gets angry at Light, no one tries to intervene. Look at his face, look at his anger.

How do they know his aggression won’t result in an attack? He is potentially still dangerous. Yet they let him yell at Light without trying to calm him down or stop him otherwise, like threatening him with a gun, for example.

Now the biggest mistake, no one is paying attention to Mikami. Gevanni stands behind Near and only watches Light. After handcuffing him, Rester is the responsible one. He stays close at first, and it looks like he’s holding onto Mikami’s coat. Shortly after, he is only standing behind him, later he moves a bit away, and when Light tries to write their names down, he goes to Near, leaving Mikami completely unattended. (Why though? Standing close to Near won’t save him.) After Light is lying on the floor, Rester stays with Near instead of returning to Mikami.

During the whole time, even when he is still close to Mikami, Rester seems to be focused on Light. If Mikami wanted to do anything, the lack of attention would give him the opportunity.

Halle is just a bystander throughout the whole scene. But she would most likely notice the mistakes and point them out if she was unaware of Near's deeds. I mean, her life depends on it. She doesn’t do this, though, and like the other, it looks like she is only focused on Light.

The SPK members are ex-FBI and CIA agents. They are experienced in what they are doing and should know very well how to deal with dangerous people. All the mistakes cannot simply be explained as rookie mistakes. Unless they got suddenly struck hard by pure incompetence, it is more than likely that Rester, Gevanni, and Halle were aware that Mikami is now harmless. And the only way this is possible is that Near told them he used the Death Note.

I also want to give you some speculations about the possible consequences of the careless handling if Mikami’s was not manipulated.

First of all, his arrest pushed Mikami into a corner. Most people would experience some degree of panic in this situation. In this state, actions aren’t always logical. Relying on assumptions about what he is going to do would be insanely stupid. No one can predict his behavior here and exclude, for example, the possibility that if he is going to die anyway, he decides to take someone with him.

However, in the manga, he doesn’t seem to be in a complete state of panic, which allows him to think rationally about his options. While doing anything in Mikami’s position is risky, he has nothing to lose anymore. If he dies now or if he is executed later, the result is the same. But ensuring Light’s survival is also Mikami’s best chance of getting out of this.

I already mentioned it. In the best-case scenario, Mikami could have hidden Death Note pages in his coat. The SPK never checked this, and Mikami is also allowed to switches positions freely. He stands mostly, but shortly after he was arrested, he kneels on the ground. Then he stands up again, and after his outburst, he sits down. Partially, his body is hunched over.

This, the position of the handcuffs and the general lack of attention are perfect. If he kneels on the ground and bows his upper body down, he could write on a page while his head, hair, and coat obscuring his actions. As long as he moves slowly, without drawing attention, he could write all names on a page before anyone notices it.

Even without a page, Mikami still has options. During Near’s explanation about the fake Death Note, he realizes that he made a mistake and that Light was still able to kill Kiyomi, which means he had access to a Death Note page. Extrapolating from this fact that Light, even now, most likely has at least a piece of a page with him isn’t that difficult, and Mikami is intelligent. Now everything Light needs is time to write the names down. I would estimate he needs about one minute for the writing plus 40 seconds until everyone is dead, so roughly 1.5 to 2 minutes. Mikami could buy him the time. Everything he has to do is distracting everyone. Keep in mind, Mikami’s actions won’t necessarily ensure his own survival, but a, let’s say, 20% chance to survive is still better than 0%. Plus, his actions could at least save Kira and with him Mikami’s ideals of justice. Of course, this won’t work anymore when Light already lies bleeding on the ground, but there was plenty of time before that.

Mikami isn’t far away from the door, about one tile, which equals roughly 2 m, using Rester as measurement (see side note below regarding the positions). Two meters are two big steps, that’s it. The door opens sideways, which could slow him down slightly, but he still should be able to get outside. Running away would most likely cause some distraction. I assume Rester and Gevanni would follow him. The other ones stay behind. I could also see that Matsuda or Aizawa start an argument about the careless behavior of the SPK causing this in the first place. Some time would certainly pass until everyone calms down.

Another option is attacking someone. Near or Halle would be the best options, but Halle is too far away and Near sits in Gevanni’s line of fire. The next best option is probably Gevanni since he appears to be less muscular than Rester. Gevanni stands between Mikami and Near but slightly behind them. Mikami could try to tackle him to the ground. The best possible outcome would be that Gevanni drops his gun within Mikami’s reach while falling. Being armed would surely draw all attention toward him.

Mikami could also try to grab Gevanni after he fell and use him as a shield in case the gun is out of reach. If he manages to put his arms over Gevanni’s head, Mikami could possibly use the handcuffs to strangulate him. Potential injuries from the sudden fall and the oxygen deficit could make it harder for Gevanni to fight back (He had most likely combat training, which would give him otherwise an advantage). A human shield would prevent the others from shooting Mikami immediately since they don’t want to hit Gevanni. If Gevanni can fight back, staying close to him could still have the same effect. Ultimately, even if Mikami is too slow and gets shot, ending up injured or dead, Light would still get a bit of time to write due to the distraction.

With this being said, two questions still remain. First, if the mistakes are so obvious, why did the Task Force not intervene? They have good reasons not to do so. Mogi and Aizawa were on Near’s site. They trusted him to have a plan here. The way the SPK handled Mikami could have been part of it. Maybe Near wanted to provoke a certain reaction from Light or Mikami. They don’t know. Since interference could be problematic, Mogi and Aizawa wouldn’t do anything as long as it looks like Near is in control of the situation. Matsuda tried to stop Mikami from writing down names at the very beginning just to be threatened at gunpoint by the SPK.

Being put in his place once should be enough not to try it a second time and leave matters to the SPK. Ide either trusted Near as well or witnessing the reaction to Matsuda’s interference was enough to stay quiet, maybe both.

The second question is about Near’s intentions behind involving the SPK. As I said earlier, this comes with a risk. My best guess is based on their behavior. They are all focused on Light which makes sense. Mikami isn’t a threat here if manipulated Light is. If Near never informed Rester and Halle about Mikami’s condition (I assume it is necessary to inform Gevanni), they would have become wasted resources. Rester, who was responsible for Mikami in the warehouse, would only have an eye on him. Maybe Halle would switch her attention between Light and Mikami. But since Light is highly intelligent and could have a backup plan, it is better if all three SPK members observe him instead of only 1.5.

Overall, it seems very likely that the SPK knew about Near manipulating and therefore killing Mikami with the Death Note. Because otherwise, it would mean they are all incompetent, which is something I find hard to imagine. Near wouldn’t have chosen people who don’t know how to do their job properly, right?

Also, I think the alleged reckless behavior of the SPK adds further evidence to Matsuda’s theory.

Side note: Obata was very inconsistent while drawing Near’s and Mikami’s position in the warehouse. Near doesn’t move at all, and Mikami stays in one spot after he was handcuffed, yet the panels show them teleporting all over the place. You can see this here:

The panels are in chronological order. I did not include all panels, which show them. The distances between Near and Mikami change, as well as the distance between them and the door/wall. Also, the relative positions to each other vary a lot. Sometimes Mikami is slightly in front of Near, sometimes Near is in front of Mikami, sometimes they are at the same height.

The most realistic positions for them based on how often they were draw this way are:

Mikami: close to the door since he didn’t walk very far away from it (about 1 tile, 1 tile = ~ 2 m)

Near: about 1.5 tiles away from Mikami, which equals about 2.5 tiles away from the door

Both are more or less at the same height. Gevanni stands between but slightly behind them and closer to Near. Maybe he moves around a bit.

Even if the drawing shows otherwise, these are the positions I was referring to.

[joshslater]

End of Shift

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My life is over. I've been playing a high stakes game, and somehow landed on one side of the odds all the time, but my luck was bound to run out sooner or later. I guess I should be happy that it turned out to be later, but it sucks no less. I got sloppy. I was looking through the items near the cashier, as always, trying to mostly use reflective surfaces to see what was going on, as always. I need to be within 15 feet or latency becomes an issue. Some old lady still using the old wallet was buying KokaKola and a pack of Ziffs. This would be easy, as always. I discreetly pressed my watch as she was ready to make the purchase, activating my EM-swiper. I wouldn't take much, a few credits more. She probably wouldn't notice it, or think the store stiffed her, or think she bought two packs of Ziffs and lost one. I'm not stealing to get rich, just to get by.

As the EM-swiper went off a high pitched beeping starts behind me. I barely have time to turn my head enough to see the charging police officer, before he slams me into the side of a KokaKola fridge. Shit, I hadn't done a survey pass through the store as I always do. I could barely register what he was screaming in my ear. "Drop it," I realize, and let go of the magazine. He must have thought I had the EM-swiper in my hand. He told me to put my hands against the wall and performed a pat-down. It's only him, so he must be off duty or not on a real patrol. He empties my pockets on the cashier table. Nothing of value, and certainly not something incriminating. I may not have been fortunate enough to afford academy, but I'm not stupid.

"You are detained under suspicion of committing proximity fraud. Do you understand?" he asks me in that commanding yet bored tone of a laborer having to recite corporate bullshit, only in his case it is in the pretense of justice. "Yes," I answer him. He doesn't have anything on me or he would have arrested me right away. Probably. "Put this on to acknowledge you've read the Citizen Rights Act and agree to an investigation in this matter." He hands me a pair of handcuffs to put on. I hesitate for a second. He is behind me and in the way of the store exit. I can stall for time and tell him to recite the CRA, but that immediately counts against you, as it is your duty to know it. I have no choice but to put them on. It's the latest model. I haven't seen any up close before. Light, thin, all metal, no key hole. Probably opened remotely or only inside a police cell or some shit. I put them on.

"Turn around, pick up your stuff, and exit the store." I do as told, turn around and begin to pick up my stuff and put them back where he took them. It's an older police officer. None of them young, jacked up types. Perhaps he is one of the fair ones. But then I am the criminal, so what good would that do me? There's a small, black duffle bag by his side. So he is on his way home. Perhaps he is tired. Perhaps I can shake him. Have Leo remove the shackles and then stay low for a fucking long time. Or this just doesn't amount to anything more than a slap on the wrist. I walk towards the door, him behind me.

"Nice watch," he says, pointing at my wrist as I reach or the door.

He knows. Unless I can get away now my life is over. All I can think of is the monstrosities the state churn out as punishment. Equal part labor force and sadism. I open the door as little as possible and as soon as I am through I dash down the block. I don't dare look behind me, but I don't hear him in pursuit. Halfway down the block I swerve into the alley that cuts across the building and out on the block on the other side. If I can cross that block and then down south I'm in the park and there are plenty of places to hide there.

My hands are not on fire. This surprises me as I look down on my hands, screaming in pain. There is a high pitched sound coming out of the handcuffs, like capacitors charging, but it is continuous. The pain emanating from my hands is something unlike anything I've ever experienced before. My legs buckle. I know I need to move, somehow, somewhere. It's just so difficult to think of anything but my hands that are not on fire. It would probably be a good idea to not scream my lungs out, but I don't really have a choice in that.

Just as suddenly as it started it stops. I'm still writhing in pain, but my hands are not on fire in a much more comforting way. "The payment proxy is in your watch, is it not?" the policeman asks, standing a few steps away. I'm panting, I realize when I attempt to answer him. Panting and sweaty. I can't manage to speak. I just nod my head.

"The state vs. item RK-220553 finds the defendant guilty to breach of contract with the state, executed by judicial AI 5" he reads off his handheld screen. I'm confused to what just happened. "No trial?" I manage to wheeze out. "You entered into a cooperation contract when you put on the handcuffs, as you are aware of as you claimed to know the Citizens Rights Act. Disobedience at that point allows for immediate trial by AI as long as no forensic work is needed." He sounded like the same bored cop as he was in the store, reciting memorized text for the thousandth time.

I struggle to get up on my feet. Not only am I shaky, but having my hands locked together makes it surprisingly difficult to get up. "You know, this is bad timing," the cop starts. "I was on my way home and don't have all the standard gear. It's supposed to be a swift punishment, for deterrence, but there is really only one thing I can do." Why is he so apologetic? He opens the bag and pulls out a fucking tactical human transformer. I've never even seen one in person before. He turns it on, selects something on the screen, and points the device towards me. "No, I can..."

This time I am on fire, if only so briefly. There is a blinding light, a pulse of heat, and the smell of burnt plastic. As the transient heat subsides it keeps falling colder and colder. I'm naked. All my clothes have been singed from my body. My watch is gone. My shoes are gone. Underwear gone. And, I realize, my hair is gone. The cop keeps punching in selections in the menus of the devices. I manage to get up on my feet. "Stay on the ground," he tells me. Not so much as an order, but as an advice. I sit down again and he trains the device on me.

I don't know how to describe it. It's not pain exactly. There is something about rewriting the code and cellular structure of your body while your brain is engaged that makes it give up in disbelief. "This can't be what's actually happening," it thinks and gives you completely nonsense sensory interpretations. But it also gives up on all other tasks. Time becomes irrelevant. Critical thinking put on hold. When the device stops you are utterly confused for seconds. Possibly by design, but it makes sense that you can't rewire the brain in flight without some glitches.

"I want you to stand up," the cop says in a firm voice. "Who?" I ask, still dazed, just to make sure. "You. Get up on both feet. Take this." He throws an orange bundle to me, and I feebly grasp for it but my one arm yanks the chain to the cuff of the other arm. The bundle brushes by and lands on the ground next to me. He looks disappointed, more at himself for thinking it would work than on me for not catching it.

I look down at my hand and see something orange in my grip, but it is not the orange that interests my but the grip. My arms, thin from lack of food and nimble from grabbing P2 storage modules out of vendor racks. are enormous. Big, well defined muscles with popped veins going up and around them. They look longer than before and even the hands are larger than they used to be. I can see that not only my arms are different. My chest is all lean and strong-looking as well, the legs have these weird lines showing different groups of muscles under the skin, and I can almost bet that the ground is further down than it used to be. Orange! I'm holding something orange in my hand.

"I only have an emergency kit with me, so not very many options for you I'm afraid. If you had come with me I think they would have found some better use for you, but as I said, I didn't have much to chose from beside himbot," the cop said while putting some beat-up looking boots from his bag next to me. He grabs the chain between my cuffs, and both of them pop open instantly, and he folds them up and begins to place them back into the cuff holder in his belt.

There was something he said that was important. Like, really important. I feel cobwebs like I had just been awakened from a deep sleep. "Put on the jock," he tells me, and again I am confused, but of a different kind. It's like I urgently need to know what he means, somehow. "You're holding them in your hand." I again look down at my hand and see the orange piece of cloth, which obviously is what he meant. I flip it around in my hands and finds it to be an orange jockstrap with a generous pouch. Looking down I also see the reason for that, since my dick and balls are large. Much larger than I remember them to be. I don't want to keep him waiting, so as quickly as I can manage, with my balance a bit off, I manage to place one leg in each loop and pull up the jockstrap. It neatly collects everything in front into a large orange ball.

Himbot! That's what he had said. It's like the government robots but human. What was the I and M now again? Wait, those are just mindless sacks of muscles roaming around doing whatever menial task is available.

"Himbot?" I ask him. "Yes, you are a himbot," the cop answered. "Put on the shirt."

I immediately grabbed the orange bundle from the ground I assumed to be the shirt. To my delight I was right and with just a few tries I managed to get it on me. It isn't a real shirt, but one of those without arms, whatever they are called. Quite a lot of skin showed. The shoulders were bare, as were the sides and the nipples unless you positioned the strings just right. Stringers! It's called a stringers, or something close to it. I feel so tired thinking of words.

"And the boots"

I grab one of the boots. There is something missing, but I'm not sure what it is. I has something to do with the small holes, I think. Well, the large hole is missing a foot, so I put one in it. Then I put the other foot in the other boot, and looked at the cop to see if he approved. He looks about the same. Good enough I hope.

"Face me and raise your hands" I comply immediately. He is pointing the large gun at me again. I don't like it, but I must do what he says. He presses a few buttons and then there is a sharp headache.

"Who are you?" "Himbot 220553." "What is your assignment?" "Walk along path 228-red responding to requests." "What types of requests?" "Any type of requests."

[kstewdeux]

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Five Stages of Grief

Struggling to breathe, Inuyasha clutched Kagome’s battered body tightly against his chest - one hand pressing against the wound on her back while the other pressed her ever colder hand against his heart. This was his fault. Completely his fault. That attack had been thrown and he ducked without taking into account the miko’s position. By the time he realized where she was, there was no time to take the hit for her and...and...

“You’re okay” Inuyasha choked as tears streamed down his cheeks and he buried his face in Kagome’s blood soaked hair, “You’ll be fine. It’s just...it’s just a flesh wound. Nothing deep. Just...just stay with me, huh?”

A whine escaped him as the scent of death began creeping into her scent. With trembling hands, he had tended to her wounds as best as he could but it wasn’t enough. At a certain point, he could barely feel his own fingers and every clumsy attempt to stitch up the numerous wounds wound up hurting her more. It wasn’t like this was his first time tending an injury that way. He’d done it thousands of times on himself with even cruder implements than what his miko carried with her from the future but his hands wouldn’t cooperate just like everything else in his body. Amber eyes - usually able to see every blade of grass - could barely see what they were doing. His lungs were barely taking in air and it took everything he had left in him not to simply pass out.

So he stopped trying since all he was doing was making her worse. Oh, he applied bandages and ointments and forced her to swallow those fever pills but she was bleeding out before his very eyes. There was nothing he could do for her. He had failed her in every possible way and now all he could do was pray.

To add insult to injury, the smell of graveyard soil had been steadily growing stronger over the last agonizing hour. Kikyo knew. She knew Kagome was dying.

“You can’t have her,” Inuyasha spat hatefully as the last person he wanted to see came into view, “She’s going to be fine. You’ll see. So...so you can’t take her soul. I won’t...I won’t let you.”

Closing his eyes, Inuyasha tried to find the will to stand and fight but it simply wouldn’t come. With Kagome slipping through his fingers so too did his own desire to live to see another day. He didn’t want to go back to a world without his miko in it. He simply wouldn’t survive.

Squeezing Kagome’s hand as tightly as he dared, Inuyasha tried to muster up more strength from the simple touch to no avail. So he restorted to desperately clutching her to him with both hands like he could hold in her soul through that action alone. The motion aggravated her wounds but with as far gone as his miko was in that moment, she didn’t even react and that sent his panic to all new heights.

“How was she hurt?” came Kikyo’s softly spoken reply and Inuyasha shook his head - burying his nose into ebony locks as his own heart struggled to beat. The scent of Kagome’s impending death was suffocating.

“Inuyasha look at me,” the undead miko commanded in a gentler tone than he’d heard in quite some time. When he merely whined and more tears fell, Kikyo tried to cross the distance between them but stopped at the menacing growl he used to warn her.

“You can’t have her,” Inuyasha managed shakily as he clutched Kagome tighter still. Like the action itself would keep the soul inside its vessel, “She’s mine. She’s mine and I promised...I promised to protect her.”

His voice cracked on that last word and the undead miko felt her unbeating heart crack at the sound.

“She needs new bandages,” Kikyo sighed, “And you’re in no state to...”

“Don’t touch her!” Inuyasha barked as yet more tears fell - one clawed hand blindly swiping to maintain distance through intimidation, “Stay...stay back. I’m warning you!”

Kikyo took another step and Inuyasha’s face contorted in pure unbridled rage.

“Take one step closer and I’ll destroy you,” the hanyou snarled between clenched teeth as his eyes flashed red, “I said you can’t have her bitch so back the fuck up!”

Kikyo let out another sigh before glancing at her soul collectors who nodded subtly and began gliding towards the grieving half-demon who watched with somewhat panic stricken eyes as they moved closer.

“Get those things away from me!” Inuyasha snapped desperately as he tried to get to his feet but any strength he had had long since fled his body, “What...what about you can’t have her did you not understand?!”

“Inuyasha I’m not going to...”

It was becoming terrifyingly obvious that something was wrong with him. Despite his best efforts, his body wouldn’t cooperate and every attempt to scramble to his feet and run resulted in his crumpling to the ground. His worthless ass couldn’t protect her.

He already failed but....

“If...if you need to take someone take me,” Inuyasha bargained desperately as one soul collector gently wrapped around his elbow and his body suddenly wasn’t his own. His grip weakened and he watched with heartbroken eyes as another soul collector wrenched Kagome from his arms, “I’ll go with you. I swear I’ll go with you. You can kill me or...or do whatever. I don’t care. Just...just don’t...”

A soft cry escaped him as Kikyo knelt down beside the one person who made his life worth living and gently rested one hand on Kagome’s stomach.

“Kikyo please....please don’t hurt her,” Inuyasha begged miserably as the soul collector immobilizing him pinned both arms behind his back. Kikyo was going to make him watch?! Didn’t she see he was already broken enough already? Why...why destroy him completely? What would be the point?! Did she really hate him that much? He...he’d never done anything to her. Defended her even at the expense of his own happiness. Even though it killed him inside. Every time he returned he had to face the betrayal in Kagome’s eyes which was more painful than any injury he’d received. Ruined every chance he had to be loved for the sake of someone who wanted nothing more than to make him suffer. Hadn’t he done enough? Sacrificed enough?

Inuyasha closed his eyes and willed his heart to give out. He couldn’t watch this. Another tear slipped free.

“These wounds are deep,” he heard Kikyo hum in a worried voice, “The stitches are too loose. Do you have more thread?”

Letting out a shaky breath, watery amber eyes slowly opened to find Kikyo looking at him expectantly.

“I’m not going to hurt her. I want to help,” Kikyo informed him in a slightly chiding tone before adding quickly, “Kagome is essential to defeating Naraku.”

Exhaling slowly, Inuyasha bit back tears as he tried to find his voice but failed. Kikyo gave him a strangely sympathetic look before glancing at the yellow monstrosity Kagome called a backpack and nodding to one of her soul collectors who clumsily tugged it closer.

Inuyasha felt his soul curl up and die as Kikyo began rummaging through the bag. This was a trick. Make him think she was there to help and then do something awful when his guard was down. There would be no holding Kagome one last time. No ability to say goodbye. She’d leave this world never knowing....never knowing how much he loved her. Swallowing thickly, Inuyasha tried to find the courage to say what needed to say before it was too late but his fear that Kikyo would make Kagome’s death more painful stilled his tongue. Two more tears trailed down his cheeks as he tried to remember how to breathe. Kagome had made him believe, if only for a little while, that he could be something more. That he had worth in his ability to protect and care for others but everyone was right about him. He had failed the one person in the world who thought differently of him from the very start. He was every bit the worthless half-breed everyone had always told him he was. Maybe he should’ve been drowned at birth.

It didn’t even register with him that Kikyo was, in fact, helping. Years of sewn distrust blinded him to the possibility that things were not as dire as they appeared. Whether Kikyo was helping or not, though, the scent of death lingered.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Inuyasha tried to struggle against the invisible bonds as his hardwired instinct to protect Kagome finally kicked in. It had shriveled up and died for a brief moment out of a belief that it was too late to do anything but now that the world has shown him once and for all things could always be worse, the instinct came back full force.

“Stop moving so much,” Kikyo sighed as she continued stitching the unconscious miko’s wounds, “You’ll aggravate your wounds.”

Inuyasha, of course, didn’t even know he was injured so that comment went right over his head. It hadn’t even registered that he also had been the victim of a direct hit that had shredded his fire rat robes and that half the blood that drenched Kagome was his own. Inuyasha honestly placed absolutely no value on his own life and the undead miko sighed sadly at that realization as she finished her task before reaching for the bottle labeled disinfectant. Which by the smell of it would probably hurt quite a good bit once applied.

Kikyo flicked her gaze up at the utterly heartbroken and obviously struggling boy watching with agony riddled eyes for just a moment before deciding she could multi-task.

“Inuyasha fear not. I have no intention of letting her die,” the undead miko began softly before looking at the spray bottle with a confused, appraising eye, “You must calm yourself.”

Again, Kikyo underestimated how very far gone Inuyasha was in that moment. His mind filled with panic induced static that was only growing thicker by the moment. Inuyasha was incapable of hearing anything outside of his own heart pounding in his normally sensitive ears. Breathing had gone completely by the wayside for more reasons than one and kiss goodbye his sense of smell with how congested his nose had become. The slow trickle of blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth was flowing completely unnoticed as his vision blurred and his head lolled. The effort he was expending tried to break free was dimming and his body was refusing to cooperate.

“Set him down,” Kikyo ordered softly as she spritzed the sanitizer a few times and hummed in understanding, “But be careful. Don’t aggravate his wounds.”

Inuyasha felt his body being laid out as he continued watching Kikyo do whatever the hell she was doing. Kagome was so close. If he could move, he could almost reach out and touch her. The undead miko glanced up then followed his gaze with a sad little smile before reaching over, grasping his hand and pulling it a hair away from Kagome’s wrist. Taking the miko’s wrist then Kikyo placed it atop his palm before helping curl his fingers around the thin flesh so his thumb lay just over her vein.

“Can you feel her heartbeat?” Kikyo asked softly as Inuyasha looked up at her with unfocused amber eyes before those same eyes lowered to where his hand was curled around Kagome’s wrist. For a moment he didn’t react at all before a shuddering sigh of relief gave her the answer he couldn’t give out loud. The steady thrum under his fingertips brought him comfort that couldn’t be voiced with words. At least he’d be with her at the end. Small comfort though that was. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to die soon so they’d be born together in the next life. That would be alright. To find out that soul and him really did have a destiny. Just wrong time and place this go ‘round. Vision blurring Inuyasha closed his eyes and focused on Kagome’s weakening pulse.

“It’s okay ‘Gome,” Inuyasha mumbled tiredly as another tear snaked down his dirtied cheek, “Its okay...”

It had to be several hours later that Inuyasha slowly regained consciousness even though his eyes stubbornly refused to cooperate. He was cocooned in something warm and soft. There was a pleasant pressure running along the front of his body too that one arm seemed to be keeping in place. Kagome was nearby, though, which meant he was being protected and cared for. And...and...

Oh no. Ooooh no. Nope. Not good. Definitely bad.

With a painful sounding groan, Inuysha finally forced his eyes open and nearly died on the spot. A short distance away a calm, indifferent looking Kikyo sat petting her soul collector while her two weird child minions maintained a barrier that surrounded him. As for the pressure against his front, one glance down told him that it was a pajama clad Kagome spooned up against his bare chest while the warmth came from the sleeping bag they’d both been stuffed into.

The rest of that day crashed down onto him moments later.

“Shit,” Inuysha breathed as he suddenly buried his nose into Kagome’s hair and inhaled deeply before whining in relief when the scent of death couldn’t be found. A tear welled in the corner of his eye as he squeezed the miko to him as tightly as he dared. He could smell the somewhat fresh blood from her stomach wound even now and...and his own dried blood? Had he been hurt too? He hadn’t noticed...

“Once you were both stabilized, I had my soul collectors arrange you this way,” Kikyo explained impassively as she glanced over at him, “It seemed the logical thing to do.”

Inuyasha set his jaw - nose remaining in Kagome’s hair as amber eyes watched the undead miko wearily. Had Kikyo been trying to help him? That seemed so absurd he didn’t even know where to start.

For some reason, this was the moment he suddenly remembered that Kagome hadn’t been wearing pajamas. And it would appear his undergarments were gone. His eyes widened in horror for a moment before he pushed that thought as far back in his mind as it would go. W-who cared it Kikyo saw them both naked? That didn’t bother him. Nope. Didn’t bother him at all. It was...

This was fine. Fine. An absolutely fantastic turn of events that wouldn’t keep him awake at night due to the crushing awkwardness. The only solace he could find was that Kikyo may have done a mortifying thing but it was done in the course of a not shitty thing so...

The fact that she had done such a thing when both he and Kagome were unconscious did seem to be the thing that convinced him Kikyo didn’t actually mean them harm. She’d had ample opportunity to kill them. They’d both been so far gone the jostling that must have occurred didn’t even wake them.

That didn’t help the blush on his cheeks or the mortification he felt - although the utter relief he felt that Kagome was alive muted both negative emotions considerably.

“Why help her?” Inuyasha asked suspiciously as his hand slid up to pull Kagome’s torso more fully against him.

“Kagome is essential to defeating Naraku,” Kikyo explained before smiling faintly and running one hand across a nearby silver serpent, “And if something were to happen to her, someone I know would be very sad.”

“What?”

Kikyo subtly nodded to herself as she realized that statement went completely over his head. Of course he wouldn’t understand the significance of her repeating back those words Kagome had said to her. Her reincarnation sheltered him from the ugliness of the world and if he had known that he almost lost both of them....

It made all the sense in the world to keep what happened that day a secret. Inuyasha had always been an anxious creature and at that time, he was endlessly torn. Kikyo wasn’t a stupid woman. She knew Kagome hadn’t admitted what should have been obvious. That day that seemed so long ago, it had been Kikyo’s intention to kill the competition and yet her reincarnation refused to say as much. This strange girl made it her job to protect Inuyasha from threats real or imagined. To shelter him from ugly truths he was ill equipped to handle like how the woman he still adored was now a being of evil. Kagome loved him for the good man he was and made it her mission in life to convince him to love himself. A strange girl made for an equally strange boy.

“When I was dying, Kagome risked her life to save mine. On more than one occasion,” Kikyo interrupted vaguely as she looked up into the starry sky, “It seemed only right to repay the favor.”

Inuyasha considered this before relaxing somewhat and rearranging to rest his cheek on Kagome’s hair with his eyes partially closed. It was still insanely hard to focus and his head felt ridiculously heavy for no reason. Still, Kagome was alright and that’s really what mattered.

“I love her you know so...so thank you I guess,” Inuyasha mumbled cautiously as he inhaled deeply and relished in the knowledge that Kagome would live.

“I believe that has been made abundantly clear,” Kikyo admitted with a humorless laugh.

Inuyasha snorted softly but didn’t bother arguing. Whether or not Kagome loved him in return was a question he’d prefer to explore with literally anyone else. Hell, he’d even ask Naraku for his thoughts on the matter before he’d ever try to talk about that remote possibility with Kikyo.

“Thank you,” Inuyasha mumbled after a long period of awkward silence, “For saving her. I...I don’t know what I would’ve done if...if...”

The half-demon couldn’t even finish that statement as visions of him permanently turning into a full demon and wreaking havoc across the land entered his minds eye. In his heart of hearts, he knew what he would’ve done. He would’ve gone insane. Just would’ve lost his damn mind and ran around killing people for no...

“It was the least I could do,” Kikyo sighed as she glanced over at the injured pair, “I will protect you until dawn and then I must leave. I believe you will have healed enough by then to take Kagome to a second location.”

Inuyasha nodded against Kagome’s hair as he gave the living, breathing, not dying miko as light squeeze. Of all the things that had ever happened to him, not one had been as terrifying as that morning. He needed to be more careful in the future. Be more aware during battle. Or, alternatively, he could just throw Kagome down the well and destroy it so this would never happen again. That was definitely an attractive option.

“I know you are a man of few words,” Kikyo offered barely above a whisper, “But perhaps it is time you told her. I have no intention of dragging you away from her. You have done enough.”

Inuyasha wrinkled his nose at that comment but otherwise stayed silent and nodded. Truth be told, holding Kagome against him was rather nice even if his undead typically murderous ex-fiancé was watching. If he didn’t just say screw it and throw Kagome down the well, he might insist they do this more often. If, of course, Kagome woke up and discovered he was holding her. What he’d do if he managed to pull this off without her knowing was an issue for a different day.

“I love you,” Inuyasha whispered in Kagome’s ear as he settled into a somewhat more comfortable position and nuzzled the skin just above her jaw. The warmth and contentment flowing through his veins soon rocked him to sleep and for the first time in his life, Inuysha slept well.

Kikyo watched on with a melancholy sigh as Inuyasha subconsciously snuggled up against his miko in his sleep.Yes, she was a creature born of evil. Yes, she had made many, many mistakes since she’d been so rudely brought back to life. And yes, her feelings toward the injured half-demon consisted of a mixture of love and hate. But something about his scream this night had triggered something she didn’t know she still possessed. A part of herself all but forgotten. She’d literally flown most of the distance toward him and walked the rest. Cautiously, of course. There most certainly a risk he would strike her down and honestly, she wouldn’t blame him.

When she opened her eyes that fateful day, she’d been in denial over so many things. Mind bucking against his insistence that he had nothing to do with her demise. That she had been cursed into this half-life consisting of little more than pain and misery.

Naturally what followed was unbridled rage at the world. Of course, everyone with eyes knew where that path had led her. 

After the anger had subsided, more or less, she’d began to plead with any god who would listen. Obsessed with the desire to return to the ground from whence she came, defeating Naraku became her number one priority. She promised to kill the wicked Onigumo - not out a warped sense of duty but rather because she hoped and prayed that by doing so, she would be freed from this hell. Maybe even gain the affection she once had and even be accepted by the people who once loved her. Inuyasha was a lost cause by that point but Kaede...

Kaede may forgive her yet.

It was the realization that it would be impossible to defeat Naraku on her own and thus not win any favors from the powers that be or forgiveness from her sister that brought her crashing back down to earth. Numb to the world around her,  she no longer cared what happened to her or anyone else. No longer cared whether Naraku won or lost. Yes, she still wanted to be the one who killed that horrid beast but...but she knew...she knew that she would not be there to witness her former love’s victory of defeat. There would be no redemption for her. There was no point even trying to do more than just wander aimlessly and help on occasion if she was in the mood to do so. By and large, however, she didn’t do anything productive any longer.

That was, until today. Something about Inuyasha’s anguished cry made something in her snap. It was the sound of a heart breaking with such devastating force that the world itself stood still. Never, never should he be allowed to make such a sound. Bygones being bygones, Kikyo was determined to stop whatever was the source of his pain. It was unacceptable in her mind for whatever reason.

And with this action, she accepted that this was her fate. Such a bizarre thing to realize at the end of an era. There was no one still living who loved her any longer.

She was truly alone.

“Kikyo,” Inuyasha muttered in a concerned tone as his amber eyes blinked open, “I didn’t know you could cry anymore. What’s wrong?”

Or maybe not.

“You must be imagining things,” Kikyo lied smoothly as she stared into the distance, “Such a thing is impossible.”

“Yeah okay,” Inuyasha snorted softly as he settled back down. A few moments passed before he cleared his throat and offered something he hoped brought the undead miko some peace, “Kaede’s been asking about you.”

Kikyo subtly furrowed her brow and glanced in his direction.

“Why do you say such a thing?”

“There are people who still care about you,” he continued hesitantly, “Just because I don’t love you like that anymore doesn’t mean I still don’t love you as a friend. Kaede I know misses the hell outta ya. Go see her. Old bat’d love a visit.”

Kikyo’s lips twitched upwards as she nodded and sighed.

“That was unkind,” she chided gently, “You should not speak of your elders that way.”

“I knew her when she was a brat and I’m still older than her. I can call her whatever the hell I want,” Inuyasha laughed good-naturedly as he settled back down and gave Kagome’s still form a light squeeze before frowning suddenly and clearing his throat to make a peace offering, “Just...just so you know I’m sorry for what happened. Back then I mean. I should’ve known. I should’ve....”

“It was a very convincing plot,” Kikyo interrupted, “And exposed issues that were already present. I failed you more than you have ever failed me.”

“Is that why you helped Kagome?” Inuyasha asked hesitantly and the undead miko shrugged slightly.

“To be honest I do not know why I assisted,” she lied, “This existence is most strange.”

“I bet,” Inuyasha acknowledged wearily before furrowing his brow, “Does it hurt?”

“This form?”

Inuyasha nodded.

“Not any longer.”

[thepaperpanda]

Baby Sister || Sam Drake x Adler!Reader

Summary: You’re the baby sister of Rafe Adler. It’s been a while since he was imprisoned in Panama jail in an attempt to get a clue on his treasure hunting. Missing him dearly as he is the only family member that left you, you make your way into the prison to meet with Rafe. Unfortunately, he isn’t happy seeing you. The entire situation ends in you and Samuel Drake getting a bit too close to one another.

Warnings: Smut! ♥

Words: 4194

Authors: Cass & Rouge

PART 1

It has been half a year since the day your older brother, Rafael Adler, was imprisoned in Panama prison.

Missing him dearly, you begged the director of the facility to let you meet with your brother. It took you several visits to gain man's trust of not being smuggler of any kind, and in the end you've gotten a permit.

That day the gates of Panama prison opened for you widely, and two guards escorted you directly to a meeting room.

Dressed in a black, flared dress that reached half of your thighs, and flat, white sneakers, you stepped inside the outpost.

There was a horrible kind of climate of fear and paranoia there, it made a cold shiver run down your spine.

Some nasty comments addressed to you by prisoners while you were following the guards along a desolated corridor made your involuntary gag reflex harder than ever before.

Soon, the three of you have reached a huge, steel door. One of the guards opened them with a key that was previously attached to his belt. You were allowed inside, and as soon as you stepped in, you saw Rafael standing next to the window, he was peeking outside, at a prison yard.

"Rafael!," Your voice was nothing more but a quiet mumble.

Rafe wasn't happy, not even a little bit.

He knew there were problems coming when he heard from Vargas that there was a young girl begging to let her meet with a brother.

"What are you doing in here, huh? I told you to stay away from it, does your little female brain have problems with processing words?,” He growled, crossing arms over his chest. The last thing he needed now was his little sister dragging him and the whole job down.

Without regard for his rough words, you approached him and simply nuzzled to his chest.

The gap between the two of you wasn't too big, yet he was 5 years older than you.

Since when he was gone from your family home, you had to take care of yourself, and it was rather a thankless task. You didn't know what to do, and cried thousands of years after him.

Even though his attitude towards you was always harsh, you loved him dearly. He was your only family, and he was a role model in your eyes.

You and Rafe exchanged a lot of letters, he assured in them that he missed you equally much as you did miss him.

"It's been so long, brother. I was so scared you might be hurt... You stopped responding to my letters, so I did everything to be allowed in here... I just had to check whether you're in good health or not..."

Rafe rolled his eyes, he was getting annoyed.

"Are you done with yapping? I told you I am busy with Drakes, I am not going to waste my time on silly letters," man added, looking at you. "I left you home with everything you needed. I even hired this stupid butler just to make sure you won't die out there."

Rafe tried his best to get rid of you. Yes, you were his only family member, but most of the time you were a bit too much to handle for him. Following and nagging him. "Do you need anything?"

"I missed you... That's all," you whispered sadly and quickly took a place on a metal chair standing at the tip of a metal table. "The butler won't replace my brother, in any way. The house is so huge, so empty and cold without you being there," you lowered your head.

Anytime he was raising his tone on you, he was guilt-tripping you. You were only a girl, and even your desperate attempts in getting his attention (like trying to study all the stuff he needed in his so called work), you were always pushed aside in the end.

"If that's all you can go back home. I really don't have time for sensitivity, I didn't come here for pleasure. I. Am. Working. Here!," He said loudly, hands clenched in fists.

Rafe honestly had enough of you already. You're always coming to him because you wanted to show pointless stuff, or you needed something. It was driving him crazy sometimes.

Lowering your head, you bit your lower lip hard. You closed eyes for a moment, trying your best to hold the tears back. You never knew what you have done wrong in your lifetime to deserve such a treatment from his side.

When you cooled down a little, you got up, and not looking at him you walked to the door and banged them to let guards know the visit was finished.

"It was nice to see you all well after all," you whispered.

"Sit down," Rafe said suddenly, pointing on the metal chair. "Now," he ordered harshly.

Blinking and being taken aback by his sudden interest, you looked at him above your shoulder.

In the same moment one of the guards peeked inside.

In Spanish you thanked him and assured it won't take you long, because apparently your brother wants to tell you something.

As soon as the door was closed again, you took a seat.

"Now, stay here," he muttered, briefly patting the top of your head. "Don't even move," Rafe instructed before leaving the room, he knew the guard won't be a problem. Rafe paid a lot to get himself and Drake brothers in here after all.

A few minutes later the door opened again, but this time it wasn't Rafe. It was one of Drake brothers, the older one to be exact.

"Hello? Rafe said that there might be a nice lady to talk to?," Sam hummed and looked at you with a cigarette slipped between his lips. "Hey."

You frowned, but remained quiet, and didn't even shift in your spot. You observed the man, and you did recognise him after many of your brother stories. It was probably Samuel Drake, the older from Drake brothers. The one who had to be an expert in pirate stuff that Rafe needed so desperately in his work.

You licked your lips, and tilted your head a little. "Where's Rafe?"

Sam moved the cigarette from one corner of his mouth to another. "Um, I don't know. He said there is a nice lady here, and went on with his stuff. I'd come with my little brother, but sadly he is busy as well. You would love him, he is younger and more your age, but of course not as charming as I am," he winked and sat on the chair right in front of you.

In the first impulse you wanted to get out of the room. You were all alone with a complete stranger. Rafe has left you to the wolves again, you weren't even surprised. Instead, a rage was filling your soul.

But then a realization came to your mind; if this was one of Drake brothers, you could prove your brother your real value by trying to get some information from this man. You decided to play a little game.

You rested your chin on your hand. "So you must be the older from Drake duo," whispering, you tilted your head aside and smiled on h sweetly.

Sam nodded with a smile on his lips. "Yup! Samuel Drake at your service."

Sam heard about you, mostly about how annoying you were, but here he was, right in front of you. You were sitting in front of him in this beautiful dress, you looked cute to him. "So... He left you here? All alone?"

With a little shrug a little sigh came along. "As you can see," you looked down on your hands and rubbed them together. "My brother was never an effusive person, especially not when it came to me," adding, you slowly got up from your place and walked to the window.

Sam nodded slowly. "I can tell, we spent some time together and honestly I am surprised. I am an older brother myself, I would die for Nathan," he summed up.

Listening to his words, you peeked out of the window to see a few guards with guns patrolling the yard.

You turned to the man that was trapped with you in a room, slowly bending your ass against the low windowsill. "Your brother's lucky then."

Sam watched you without saying a word.

You decided to take over control. Knowing the place he was in, you assumed it must have been a great while since he held a woman in his arms. Playing with emotions was something you were thankful to Rafe for teaching you.

You walked to the man and simply took a seat on his lap. Gently playing with his sideburn, you licked your lips. "I've heard you're a specialist from pirates. Is that true? Are you currently looking for a treasure? My brother was telling me you're good at this."

It was happening quickly, but he didn't mind at all, they all were locked down there for a bit too long, and he surely missed the woman's company. "Yes, I am a pirate expert, and yes, we are looking for a treasure. That's why our asses are stuck in here."

"I was always interested in my brother's work, though he didn't want to share anything with me," you whispered in a sad tone. "Do you know where to look for this treasure or whatever it is?," You asked sweetly after a moment of silence. Your fingers trailed up and down his chest.

Sam chuckled, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "Listen, little one, I know you tried to find out something so you could tell your brother, but sadly that ship has sailed. Rafe knows about everything we do," Drake shrugged, patting your hip.

You blinked a few times, his words surprised you much. Shifting slightly in your place, you bit your lower lip, and looked him in the eye.

Sam grabbed your chin, his thumb gently stroked it. "What's wrong, Y/N?," He asked simply.

"I...," You mumbled and went quiet. You felt like a complete idiot. First, you tried to seduce the man to get information about him. And he figured your plan out so quickly.

Your eyes glistened as you gazed at him; he was a handsome man.

"Want me to get you out of here? I can walk you to the guard station. Just talk to me," Drake stated, rubbing your back.

You didn't know how to behave. Taking he was an enemy of some kind, you should have kicked him right in the balls. But on the other hand, he was kind to you all the time, even if you tried to mock him. "Yes, please," you asked politely.

Sam helped you get off his lap, then he got up and walked you to the door. Sam even opened them for you. "Honestly, pity you don't want to stay longer, but it was a pleasure to meet you after all."

You stopped him from opening the door fully. You didn't know why you acted this way, but an urge grew within your body. It's been a while since you were with a man as well. You didn't know why, but this guy was turning your head upside down. "No," you whispered and closed them, you leaned your back against the steel.

Sam chuckled. "Are you like one of those typical women that don't know what they want?," He teased you.

Blushing, you turned your head aside.

Thinking about your past, you knew you made a lot of mistakes. You knew it was wrong to blindly follow your brother's will, yet you did.

But now you wanted to decide for yourself. At least once in a lifetime. If he left you alone, like a prey you seemingly were to him, you had a right to use the situation as well, hadn't you?

You wrapped your arms around the man's chest and nuzzled him.

Sam wrapped his arms around you.

You were cute, the whole 'I can't decide' thing was getting into him.

Sam grabbed your hips and picked you up to take a good look at you. "Is there something you want to tell me, sweetheart?"

"I have never met a man as handsome and mysterious as you," you mumbled openly, giggling as he picked you up.

"And I have never met a girl as sweet and small as you," Sam said, surprised at how light you were. "So, what shall I do with you now, huh?," He hummed nuzzling to you. Sam was aware of your intention but he wanted to hear it from you.

"Put me down, that's first," you asked calmly, and as soon as he did, you looked up into his eyes. He was twice your height, towering over you like skyscrapers over a block. "Second," you pretended to be thinking hardly, "if I'm Adler, and if you're Drake, then we can think about some nice way to bury the hatchet."

"Well, that would be nice if we would have any 'hatchet' to bury, love, and we have none," Sam said, looking down on you. "I have never seen you before and if you will try to play around some more I will simply leave."

"What am I supposed to say?," You whispered.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N. Rafe told me to take care of you and I will gladly do this," Sam muttered with a mischievous grin.

You smiled at him and tilted your head aside. "Take me to my brother."

Sam rolled his eyes and lit the cigarette.

Soon, he led you out of the room and took you to Rafe.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, even Drake had enough of you?," Rafe asked deeppy annoyed as soon as he spotted you entering the yard.

As your brother was sitting with a few men, you excused them and tugged on his sleeve. "What the fuck was that?," You asked him in a lowered voice. "Who the fuck I am for you? A fucking toy you can toss everywhere and to anyone you want?," You asked him as you walked aside for a bit.

"I never asked you to tag along, you always followed me like an annoying little brat you truly are," Rafe growled. "You are an adult, go get a life and stop following me," Adler said, not even trying to be quiet.

Sam frowned at the whole situation. He didn't know you too long, but he was more than sure you didn't deserve such a treatment.

Clenching teeth, you swallowed hard. And shortly after, you aimed your brother a robust slap right in the face. Glaring up at him, you snarled. "You're deluded, brother. Think about this when you'll be fucking rotting here, all alone, with no one to reach a hand toward you. A fucking lone fool. Remember, there are still things you can't buy with your bloody cash."

You were surprised by your own behaviour and the fact you dug in your heels against Rafael.

The next moment, you stormed off the yard.

Rafe didn't take it to himself, he didn't care. "One problem less," Rafe summed up before returning to his mates.

Sam was the one to run after you. "Hey, hey. Wait, you can't just walk alone. Not here," he informed you simply.

"What can happen?," You snarled in a response. "If I'd vanish once and for all, he'd be the one to dance happily on my grave."

"You can get hurt here, and please, don't say that," Sam grabbed your arm to stop you. "You can't act like this only because he's a dick."

"I'm an adult, I can do whatever I want to," you turned to face the man.

"You are an adult, you are free to do what you want, but it doesn't mean you can waste your life just because your brother is a dick. You should show you are better than he thinks you are," Sam explained.

You listen to his words. The man seemed very wise and very down to earth. Definitely your type.

Without thinking too much, you climbed on tiptoes, pulled him by a collar, and crushed your lips on his.

Sam gladly kissed you back, after a moment he pulled away with a smile. "I did not expect that," he admitted.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you grabbed his palm. With a mischievous grin, you pulled him behind you. With a corner of your eye you spotted a guard leaving one of the rooms, and you decided to risk it all, pulling the man in that direction.

Sam wasn't really sure about it, they had things to do and they were treated like normal prisoners, but he followed you anyway. After all, you were sweet. Sweet enough to make him go after you. "You are a crazy, little girl."

You simply pushed him inside the room. You decided that if there would be anyone, you'd lie quickly that the man was leading you to the exit and you two messed the way.

Fortunately, the room was empty. As soon as the door closed right behind the two of you, you pushed the man on the wall. You once again climbed on your tiptoes to kiss him, this time you let your tongue dance with his one a little. And you had to admit that he was an amazing kisser.

Sam kissed you back, grabbing your waist. He gave you the possibility of dominating him in the kiss.

But then he picked you up and soon you were pressed to the wall. "Time to change places, sweetheart."

Humming willingly, you let the man press you to the wall.

As he broke the kiss, you gasped loudly, sadly, as the contact was lost.

Sam smiled at you before dropping to his knees, he wanted to take his time with you, but sadly he couldn't. It wasn't a five star hotel, it was a prison after all. "Let's see what are you hiding there, princess," Sam hummed before moving the skirt of your dress up.

You licked your lips and parted them, observing his actions. He was so sure of what he was doing, it impressed you very much. As the blush hit your face, you let your eyes closed.

Sam teased you through your panties, just a little bit to get you ready. Then he pulled your panties aside and attacked your clit like he was a starving beast.

You gasped and instinctively muffled yourself by putting a curled hand to your lips. He gave you a new sensation. Of course, you did have sex, but only oral one and only with your former boyfriend who was just as inexperienced as you. Sam, on the other hand, was playing with you wisely, discovering a new level of desire to you.

"You like it, huh?," Sam asked, playing with your clit.

He raised to his feet, looking at you with a cocky smile.

"I wish I could eat that sweet pussy properly but looking at our poor position. This needs to wait, you are wet for me anyway," Sam winked and picked you up, pressing you to the wall.

At this moment Sam was thankful that his prison uniform was loose and easy to remove.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he picked you up a little. Your legs wrapped quickly around his hips as your hands rushed to tug his pants down. Oh, how much he was turning you on! "I need you, so much!"

"Oh you will get it, babe. I can promise you that, you will get whatever you need," Sam assured you before pulling his pants down, he wasn't wearing any underwear and his cock was standing proudly. "How much do you want it?"

"So much!," you gasped and reached out to grab his erected cock. You gave it a stroke or two, your palm wrapped tightly around his shaft. You tried to guide him right inside of you.

"But keep your hands up here, babe. I'll do the work," Sam instructed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You simply relax and sing for me."

After those words Sam started to slowly penetrate your sweet pussy, he could feel that even if you had sex in past, a guy did a poor job.

"Hell! Fuck!," You moaned quietly, right into man's ear. A cold shiver ran along your spine. "Fuck, oh God!," You were moaning louder and louder. "You're so big! I can't take it!," You kissed the man's cheek, and moved to suck on his neck. His skin tasted with sweat, but you didn't mind.

"Oh I can bet you can take it, “ he hummed, rubbing your belly lovingly. "And a bit more than just my cock. Just relax," Sam purred, giving you one hard thrust before returning to gently pace. He didn't want to hurt you in any way.

"Ah!," You mumbled and nuzzled to his neck. Instantly, as soon as he made a hard thrust, you felt how wet you became and that your walls got loosened a bit. You tried to cool your breath down.

"You see? I told you that you can take it. Such a good girl," Sam smiled at the nice feeling of your walls loosening a bit around him. Knowing this he started to move faster, Sam knew you can take it. "You are doing a great job, babe,” he hummed, moving his hand into your hair to pull them gently.

You wrapped arms tighter around his neck and gasped right into his ear. He felt so amazing in you. He stretched you oh so well! "Fuck, fuck, so good, so hot, fuck...," You raised your tone a little and rolled head back.

Sam chuckled at your moans and cupped your cheek to make you look at him. "Oh, I know this all, sweetheart and I can say that you feel amazing around my cock,” without more unnecessary words Sam pulled you into a kiss, he was getting close to his climax.

You cupped his face in hands and kissed him. The kiss was messy, rapid. You gasped for air when you broke the kiss. "Oh, God, something is.... Oh, my God!," You mumbled as your walls started clenching.

Sam smiled against your lips.

"Oh, you poor thing, no one ever made you reach your peak? Let me show you how the real man does it, you'll love it,” he hummed, his hand moved between your bodies to play with your clit. "Just don't hold it, babe."

You rolled head back, your eyes shut closed, your lips parted and thighs squeezing man's hips. Your nails dug into his back where you scratched him. "I'm cumming!," You screamed.

"Good girl,” Sam hummed into your ear. His hips didn't stop to move even after your climax. "Now, tell me, do you want to be a good girl or do you want me to fill you up?"

"I want to be a good girl," you whispered. "Please!"

Sam let out a sad sigh, he expected a bit more from you. "As you wish. Pity ‘cuz I am not a fan of good girls,” he slowly pulled his cock out of you, Sam gave himself a few strokes before painting your clothed belly with his warm, thick seed. "That was good."

You licked your lips and gasped, immediately you went down to your knees and wrapped lips around his shaft. You only smirked and bobbed your head back and forth, sucking on him.

He moved his hand into your hair pulling at them. "This feels nice but that's enough, Y/N. You sucked me dry, babe."

 You ran the tip of your tongue along his shaft for the very last time.

Sam chuckled and helped you get up. Pulling his pants up he looked at you, of course he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. "That was something girl," Sam hummed, puffing out some smoke.

You looked at him innocently. "Did you... Enjoy it? Truly?," You looked like you were seeking confirmation in his eyes. It was your very first time with a skilled man and you felt so exposed.

"Oh, I did enjoy it. Truly," he said and kissed your cheek. "I promise you one thing: as soon as we will be out of this hell - I will find you and we'll play some more."

"You somehow know where to look for me," you bit your lower lip.

At this moment the door to the room opened and a guard rushed inside. "What the fuck!"

"I told you she is here just wandering around. I knew she would be a problem," Rafe said to the guards with his back pressed to the wall, Nathan stood next to him completely confused.

You shrugged. "I pressed on him to go there, I thought this is where the exit is," you explained, laying smoothly

Everyone looked at you. The guards frowned and grabbed you, simply dragging you away.

Before you were pushed outside the outpost, you turned your head around. "Thank you for

guiding me

, Samuel!"

[harley-sunday]

This is Where I Leave You

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple mission turns out to be a matter of life and death. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader [unnamed OFC (loosely based on Firestar)]

Warnings: ANGST. Character death. Language.

Word count: 5.9k

AN: Not sure why but I was in the mood for some angst last week and so here it is. It is somewhat inspired by Flashpoint S02E14 for those of you who know that show, but it takes place in that wonderful Marvel fanfic Universe where everyone lives at the compound/in the tower and Friday night’s are for Tony’s parties. I’m sure you know the one. I apologize in advance and yes, I did cry while writing this, so…

♥

Flashbacks in italics

In for seven, out for eleven.

It’s almost like a mantra stuck on repeat in your head, a distraction that only works half of the time. 

In for seven, out for eleven.

In for seven, out for-

All of a sudden something moving in the treeline catches your eye and you squint against the sun to try and figure what it is and if you should alert Steve. 

Steve, who’s on his knees at your feet, quietly working away and completely focused on the task at hand, although you can tell from the tense muscles in his back and the beads of sweat crowning his hairline that there’s probably a war going on inside of him. You wonder what he’s thinking right now and if he also feels like the weight of the world has been dropped on his shoulders.

Something steps out from in between the trees then and you let out a sigh of relief when you see it’s just a deer and her two fawns foraging for food. You watch them as they continue their journey, the fawns trailing behind their mother as if they’re connected by an invisible string, completely unaware of the two humans that are not even fifty yards away. You know the direction of the wind is in your favor, a brisk breeze kissing your face every now and then, a welcome relief from the sun that’s burning your cheeks, but even so you are amazed at how invisible you can become if you just stand still. 

Your watch beeps then, scaring off the animals and letting you know another minute has passed. Like he did at every other minute mark, sixteen of them now in total, Steve looks up to check on you. 

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” it comes out a little shaky and the tears that have started to form in your eyes are not helping to convince him. You try to smile, “Guess I should have taken a better look at that waiver Tony made me sign when I first joined, huh?”

“Rogers,” Tony says as he takes your elbow and guides you to where Captain America is standing, alone, in front of the large windows that make up the entire west wall of Tony and Pepper’s penthouse, his hands in his pockets and his back to the crowded room. 

He turns around just as you and Tony reach him and you wonder if the serum has enhanced his hearing so that he can hear you approach him even over the murmur of the crowd that’s gathered here for one of Tony’s infamous parties, but then you realize he must have seen your reflection in the window he was staring out of. 

“Cap,” Tony says as he gently pushes you forward, “I’d like you to meet our newest recruit.”

You can see Cap’s eyebrows knit together as his eyes land on your face but before you can say anything Tony beats you to it.

“Don’t look at her like that, she’s still a good, what-” he shrugs, “-sixty years younger than you.”

You throw Tony a look, “Sixty-eight, thank you very much.” 

“Whatever,” Tony says with a very elaborate roll of his eyes.

You shake your head and try to ignore him, instead holding out your hand and introducing yourself.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve replies with a hesitant smile, his eyes moving from you to Tony as if he’s trying to figure out your history. 

“Yeah, so uh, she’s a nuclear engineer but as we all know-” Tony nods to his left where Bruce is sitting at the bar, “-sometimes experiments fail, you know, liquids get mixed up, nasty stuff. So now Firestar over here can produce radiation and light, and can absorb and manipulate energy. Pretty nifty, if you ask me, but then again-”

“Tony-” 

“You know what, fine,” Tony says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just came here to introduce you to Cap since he wasn’t here for the official introduction earlier this week.” He turns to Steve then, “Told you she’d be a delight.” 

You shake your head at Tony, “Please go away.” 

Tony fakes being shocked, hand to his chest as he says, “Remind me to write you up for bad behavior, Sparky,” before he salutes the two of you and disappears.

“Asshole,” you mutter quietly as you watch him make his way across the room. When you turn back you find Steve staring at you with a questionable look in his eyes. You’re quick to explain, “I know him from before all of this-” you hesitate but then you hold up your hand and snap your fingers, creating a tiny spark, “-happened. We worked together on some projects in the past and when he found out about the “incident”-” you air-quote the word, “-he contacted me and told me there would always be a place for me here.” You smile, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve known him long enough to know he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.” 

“Hmm,” Steve agrees, although he doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead he nods towards the other people in the room, his hands back in the pockets of his pants again, “Everyone treating you ok so far?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “it’s nice to be here.” It’s true. Ever since the incident at the lab you’ve felt like an outsider, felt people could tell there was something wrong with you, but not here. Here people are kind, not just interested in your powers but in you as a person, and honestly it’s like a weight has lifted off your shoulders. 

“Good.” 

You open your mouth to say something but it’s then your watch beeps, letting you know it’s time to get back downstairs. “I’m sorry,” you look up at Steve, “I have some things I need to do in the lab.” You pull a face, “Probably best not to mess up five months worth of experiments in my first week here, right?” 

Steve chuckles, “Probably not, no.” 

“So,” you try to smile, “I guess this is where I leave you.”

After another three minutes have passed you risk a quick glance down and see Steve’s still trying to clear the dirt surrounding your foot, his movements as controlled as possible, trying not to touch the box you’re standing on. When you look up again you do the same thing you’ve been doing for the past ten minutes or so and start listing off the things that are in your field of vision.

“Tahoe on my left,” you whisper, “an iron gate in front of it, three barracks to my right, all their doors open.” You let out a staggered breath, “The tree line in front and behind me, and a mother deer and her two fawns wandering around somewhere.”

“Steve at your feet,” he says then, looking up at you with a weak smile, “trying to get you out of this mess.”

“This is going to be one hell of a debriefing, Cap,” you try, but your voice catches on his name and when you try to smile you feel yourself failing.

“I don’t understand, Nat.” You let out a frustrated sigh and throw your gym bag on the floor, “Why does he have to be such an asshole?”

“He’s not-” 

“He tells me to watch my language like I’m a fuckin’ sixteen-year old kid,” you hold up your hand and start counting on your fingers, “he makes me write the reports after every mission we go on and then ever since last month, he wants to meet up so we can debrief but it’s always just the two of us, whoever else is on our team doesn’t have to attend for whatever reason, and then during our last mission brief he told me to be careful. Like, what the hell is that about?”

“Maybe he-”

“I have been a part of the team for over a year and all of a sudden he’s worried about me? That accident in the lab should have killed me, and let me tell you, I was ok with that. I made peace with it. But instead of dying I can now produce fuckin’ radiation at any given time,” you fume, “so I don’t think breaking and entering into a high security prison to retrieve the file of one their inmates is going to me killed. I’m sorry, but no.” 

Natasha throws you a look, silently asking if there’s more or if this is it. When you don’t say anything else she takes a deep breath and holds out her hands, letting you know she comes in peace, “Maybe he does those things because he likes you.”

“I- He-,” you stutter. “What?”

Natasha drops her hands and sits down on one of the benches, patting the spot next to her and waiting for you to sit down before she continues, “I’ve known Steve for a while so,” she shrugs, “I like to think that I know him,  sometimes maybe even better than he knows himself.” She smiles at you then, “I see the way he looks at you when he tells you to be careful-”

You scoff, “Yeah, sure.” 

“No.” Natasha shakes her head, “You want to know the reason why he wants you to write those reports?”

You shrug.

“It’s because he values your opinion more than anyone else’s,” Nat puts her hand on your arm and gives it a gentle squeeze, “and all those debriefings with just the two of you?” She chuckles, “That was my idea.” 

“What?”

“Like I said, I see the way he looks at you, but-” Natasha shakes her head, “-he would never admit it. Not to me, not to you, and sure as hell not to himself. He’s lost so much already that he doesn’t even believe this is a possibility.”

“And what makes you think I do?”

“Oh come on,” Natasha nudges you with her shoulder, “I’ve seen the way you look at him too.” 

“Steve?”

He stands up at the sound of your voice, so suddenly that it makes you want to take a step back, and so you curse quietly when at the very last nanosecond you realize that you can’t. Your leg’s a little shaky, no doubt a result of the conflict between the neurons your brain already fired when you wanted to move and the new neurons that were sent to intercept that message when you remembered you shouldn’t move. With a grunt you try to regain your balance while trying to make sure you don’t move your weight around too much because God knows what will happen if it does.  

“Shit,” he holds up his hands to you, “I’m sorry. I-”

“Hey,” you say with a faint smile, “language.” You nod towards the Tahoe that’s parked just outside the gate, “You think you could get me a bottle of water? I’m feeling a little thirsty.” 

Steve looks from you to the box and back, unsure almost.

You glance at your watch, “I’ve been here for almost twenty five minutes,” you try your hardest to smile, “I’m sure it’ll be alright.”

“Ok,” he nods, “just don’t move, ok?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

“Go on,” you nod towards the car, “I’m not going anywhere.” You know it is the wrong thing to say when you see him try to hide the pained look that crosses his face by turning around quickly, but you catch a glimpse of it anyway and it makes your eyes burn with unshed tears while a ragged breath escapes you. The unfairness of it all hurting you the most.

Before you have time to think about it though, your watch buzzes to let you know you have a new message from Nat, telling you to switch your comms unit over to channel two. You tap the settings on your watch and change the channel effortlessly, “Nat?” 

“Hey,” her voice is kind, softer than usual, and it’s at that moment you realize this is way worse than you thought. “You ok?” 

“Tell me what you know,” you reply instead, not really wanting to answer her question because you are sure that it will break you if you do. 

Nat clears her throat, “We’re almost there.”

“What’s almost?”  

Natasha hesitates.

“Nat-”

“Twenty minutes,” her voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Fuck.” All of a sudden it’s getting difficult to breath and it feels as if someone has dropped a hundred pound weight on your chest and then punched you in the stomach for good measure. 

“Just breathe,” Nat says, “please. Just,” she sighs, “don’t move and keep breathing, ok?”

It’s then you hear Steve close the car door, holding two bottles of water, “I need to go.” You let out a shaky breath, “Nat,  If I don’t- Promise me you’ll take care of him?”

“Don’t-”

“Nat,” you plead, “promise me.”

“Ok,” she whispers, “I promise.” 

You let him know you’re there with a soft knock on the door before you step inside, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he draws out, suspiciously eyeing the basket you're carrying.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks but deciding it’s better not to beat around the bush, “so today a year ago we had our first debriefing together and I thought maybe we should celebrate?” 

“Hmm,” he replies while walking over to where you’ve put the basket on the table, trying to lift the lid.

“Don’t,” you say as you swat away his hand, “you’ll ruin the surprise.” 

“Surely you don’t want to celebrate here?” 

“Why not?” You smile, “This is where we had our first debriefing after all,” a grin then, “and every one after that.”

“Well, if you’re up for it,” he says with a smile, “maybe we could go up to the roof? I think there’s a picnic table up there, so-”

“I’d like that,” you say, reaching for the basket. 

This time it’s him who swats away your hand as he grabs the handle, “Come on.” 

You follow him to the elevator bay not too far from the meeting room, for once glad that he prefers to have the debriefings at night, when there’s no one else around. There’s an elevator already waiting for you and when you get inside you push the button needed, while you wait for the elevator doors to close. 

When you get to the top floor and off the elevator you walk next to Steve as you make your way to the south corner of the building, to where the roof access is. Steve’s been awfully quiet ever since you stepped off the elevator and you start to wonder if this was such a good idea after all, but then you open the door that leads to the roof and you let out a gasp, “Oh,”

There’s a small platform that has four posts on each corner, with strings of lights hanging between them, casting a warm yellow glow on the picnic table that stands in the center. 

You look from Steve to the scene in front of you and back, “You did this?”

He smiles, “You’re not the only one who remembered our debriefing anniversary.” 

“I love it,” you tell him with a smile before you make your way to the platform. There’s a bottle of what looks like champagne in an ice bucket on the table and when you recognize the label you turn around, “How did you know?”

Steve shrugs, a mischievous smile on his lips, “I have my ways.”

“You have Nat,” you reply, suddenly remembering the conversation you had with her not even two weeks ago. She kept asking you all these random questions, like what your favorite drink was and if you preferred savory over sweet when it came to snacks. And now all your answers are on the table in front of you. “Remind me to thank her.”

“Already did,” Steve says with a grin. He motions for you to sit down and takes out the bottle of champagne, uncorking it with ease and filling up the two glasses that are on either side of the table without spilling anything.

“Captain America,” you tease, “popping champagne like it’s nobody’s business. Who knew?”  

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” 

“Really?”

He just nods and hands you your glass before he holds up his own and clinks it against yours, “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” you reply, “to, uh, the debriefing crew?”

He chuckles, “To us.” 

“To us.” You watch him as he sits down opposite to you, and take a sip of your champagne, relishing the way it tickles your throat. You smile then, “I know you take your first coffee of the day with milk and sugar but that every other cup after that is black. I know you like baseball more than american football even though you don’t want Tony to find out.”

“What are you-”

“I know you and Nat are like brother and sister and that you value her opinion the most.” You shrug, “I know we work well together, even though you really should stop telling me to watch my language, and-” You hesitate then and drop your gaze down to your hands. 

His foot nudges yours under the table, “And?”

“And,” you draw out, “I know you like me,” you look back up at him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, “and I know I like you too.”

The sun’s at its highest point and you can feel yourself starting to get a little lightheaded just as your watch beeps to let you know you’ve passed the thirty-minute mark. You get ready to answer Steve’s inevitable question, but it never comes, instead there’s not but silence and it feels ominous, worrying you more than everything that has happened so far. 

When you look down you see Steve sitting back on his heels, shaking his head. 

“Steve?”

“I can’t do this.” He looks up at you, his eyes filled with dread “I am so sorry.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve never seen one of these before,” he nods at the box, “I don’t know how to-”

“Hey,” you tell him, holding out your hands to him even though you can’t reach him, “it’s ok. Tony will be here soon, right? He’ll know what to do.” 

Steve lowers his head, not looking at you and ignoring your outstretched hands, “Yeah.” 

“Steve,” you tell him, your voice much more commanding now. You wait until he looks at you before you continue, “It’s ok.” There’s a weight behind your words that you hope he understands, even if maybe he doesn’t want to. 

He runs a hand over his face and straightens his back, “Ok. Let me get an update from Tony and then we’ll take it from there, ok?”

“Ok,” you agree and watch as he walks towards the gate, no doubt to keep you out of earshot. A little frustrated to be left out of the conversation you activate your comms unit, “Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“What channel are they on?” 

She probably knows better than to argue with you and so she lets out a resigned, “Five point three.”

“Thank you.” Before she has a chance to say anything else you push the button needed on your watch to switch to the other channel and all of a sudden Tony’s voice comes in loud and clear over your comms unit that you wear in your left ear.

“You sure about that, Cap?” 

You see more than hear Steve’s frustration from the way he’s pacing in front of the gate, “It’s a TM-38, Tony. Soviet-made. I’ve seen them in the field before.” 

“And there’s no way you can dismantle it?” Tony tries again, his voice a little tighter now.

“No,” Steve says while he looks at you, the desperation in his voice matched by his pained expression.

The mission brief is simple. The HYDRA division that used the army base had abandoned it in a hurry three days ago, leaving behind a plethora of important files that you and Steve are sent out to retrieve. This morning you tried to convince Tony to delay the mission with one or two days, not particularly looking forward to spending your six-month anniversary out in the field instead of the nice little restaurant Steve promised he would take you to. 

Tony didn’t budge, said he had intel that HYDRA wanted to return to collect what they could sooner rather than later and so here you are, trying to navigate through the dense Monongahela National Forest in West Virginia while Steve is driving the Tahoe that somehow got transported here on the Quinjet. 

“There it is,” you point towards a stone structure on your right. The base is surrounded by tall trees and definitely looks like something HYDRA would use to hide out in. You can only see three barracks above ground, but the map Nat has given you on the flight over shows an intricate underground network of tunnels, bunkers, and panic rooms. 

The room you’re interested in, however, is all the way in the back, housing about five servers full of information you’re desperate to get your hands on. There’s a laptop in your backpack to connect to the servers, and a program written by Bruce that should be able to copy the files in no time.

“Ready?” Steve asks once he’s pulled up to the gate. He looks at you with a smile and then surprises you by leaning in and giving you a kiss, “Not how I wanted to spend our anniversary, but-”

“Yeah,” you agree, for a moment allowing yourself to get lost in his eyes. Your watch double beeps then, letting you know it’s go-time and so you grab your backpack and exit the car, drawing your gun as soon as you reach the gate.

With every step you take towards the first of the three barracks it is clear that there’s no one here, the doors of all the buildings wide open and not a sound to be heard except your footsteps. You feel yourself start to relax a little and a sliver of hope starts to form somewhere, because maybe you will make it home in time for dinner after all. 

The trek to the server room proves to be rather uneventful and once you’ve connected the laptop to the mainframe it only takes about twenty minutes for the files to upload. You use that time to scout the other rooms for valuable information, but come up empty-handed. Apart from the servers there’s not much they’ve left behind and you can’t help but wonder if this was all some sort of setup and if by downloading the files you’re bringing in some sort of spy-ware. 

“Remind me to tell Bruce to check the files for any malware,” you tell Steve, who nods. A notification lights up on your screen then, letting you know the download is complete. You unplug the laptop and stow it in your backpack before you nod to Steve, “Ready.”

“Alright, let’s head out.”

When you finally make it outside again, you have to blink a few times to adjust to the bright sunlight that’s shining through the treetops. You’re following a few steps behind Steve as you fish a piece of paper out of your pocket, on it the coordinates for the pick-up point you’re supposed to go to, so the team can fly you back to the compound. Of course they’re programmed into your watch as well, but you like the act of taking a minute to write down the pick-up coordinates before you leave on your mission, almost like a sort of good-luck charm to remind you to make it home safe. 

A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s still early enough to make it back in time for dinner and you’re just about to tell Steve the good news when a gust of wind blows the paper out of your hand. You chase after it, stepping off the path that leads to the gate and onto the soft forest floor. You almost catch it but then the wind picks it up again and for a moment you debate just leaving it, after all it’s just a piece of paper, but the information on it is too important and so once again you chase after it.  

Finally it’s within reach and you stick your foot out, hoping to trap the piece of paper under your shoe before it flies off again. There’s a click resounding through the sole of your shoe once you’ve put your foot down, the surface on which you’re standing hard and not at all like the soft bed of pine needles you were walking on before. Instantly a chill runs through your spine and you try to stay in position, afraid of what will happen if you move.

“Steve?” 

He must hear the panic in your voice because he turns around right away, his brows furrowed as he tries to understand what’s going on. 

“I’ve stepped on something,” you try to explain, but your voice is too weak and the wind carries it away from him. You point at your ear and turn on your comms unit, before you hold up your hand to tell him to stay in position, “Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” 

“I- uh,” you let out a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts so you can give him as much information as possible, “I stepped on something. It’s a- It’s a hard surface, almost like metal, and when I put my weight down on my foot, something underneath clicked, like-”

“Like you stepped on a pressure plate?” Steve asks, already one step ahead of you.

“Yes,”

“Steve?” It’s Natasha who comes in first, “What’s going on?”

“Rogers,” Tony barks through the comms unit, “I need a status report stat.” 

“Please,” Steve pleads, his voice rough and full of emotion, “just- Just give me a second.” 

You can see him tap his watch before he runs a hand over his face, no doubt trying to figure out what to do next. With a small nod, almost as if he tries to convince himself, he drops his backpack and slowly starts making his way towards you.

“Steve. Don’t” you tell him, but either he really doesn’t hear you or just pretends he doesn’t because he keeps walking.

“Talk to me, Sparky,” Tony says, his voice much kinder now. “Cap’s offline, yeah?”

“I think so, but he’s making his way towards me, Tony, I-” you look around you, “I don’t know if it’s safe. Please tell him to stop-”

“His comm’s off,” 

“There must be some way to turn it on remotely, right?” There’s no reply and so you try again, “Right?”

“Fine,” Tony sighs, “but before I do I want you to know that there’s nothing we can say to stop him. You know that right?”

You lock eyes with the man walking towards you and your heart suddenly feels heavy in your chest, “I know.” When Steve reaches you, you turn off your comms unit, “So, what’s the plan, Cap?”

“I need to take a good look at it first,” Steve says as he drops to his knees, “just try to stay still, ok?”

You nod, “Yup,” and for the first minute or so you look down to try and see what he’s doing, but it messes with your balance and so instead you focus on the treeline in front of you, trying to remember the breathing exercises Clint taught you during one of your stakeouts together. 

Breathe in for seven seconds, out for eleven.

In for seven, out for eleven.

Another beep, but this time you ignore the impulse to check your watch. You don’t want to know how long you’ve been here. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters now is making sure Steve makes it out of this alive.

“They’re five minutes out,” he says when he gets back to you. 

“Ok,” you tell him, eyeing his reaction to see if he hears you over the comms unit you still have switched on. He doesn’t respond and so you figure he must have turned it off after talking to Tony, which is good. He kneels at your feet again, why you’re not sure. There’s nothing he can do. Still, it gives you a chance to check in with the rest of the team and you quietly whisper, “Team, do you copy?”

“Loud and clear,” Nat replies almost immediately. 

“Same,” Tony and Bruce say at the same time, while Clint’s “Yes, ma’am,” follows a little later. 

“Steve?” You wait until he looks up at you before you continue, “I think we need to consider our options here.” 

“Why?” He looks confused, “The team’s almost here, they’ll know what to do.”

“And if they don’t?”

“And if they don’t,” he bites back in a tone of voice you haven’t heard before, “we’ll find another solution.” 

“Steve-”

“No.” He pushes himself up and stands in front of you with his hands on his hips, “We’ll find a way.”

You hesitate, trying to find the right words, “I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me, ok?”

“That depends on what you’re about to ask me, because-”

“Do you think I could absorb the energy that this thing produces?” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t-”

“No,” Bruce comes in over your earpiece, sounding absolutely defeated, “I’ve run several calculations but there are way too many variables-”

“This thing is too strong,” Tony says, the desperation seeping through his voice, “before you have a chance to absorb any of it you would be-”

“-know.” Steve lets out a heavy sigh, “I don’t know enough about nuclear physics to even try to answer that question.” 

“Ok,” you nod, trying to stay calm even though your heart is screaming and your stomach is twisting and turning inside of you, “but Tony and Bruce are sure they can dismantle it?”

“They said-”

“No,” it’s Bruce who speaks up first again.

“There’s no way to dismantle it safely,” Nat says, her voice low. “The Soviets purposely built it that way.”

No matter how hard you try to hide it, you are sure something registers on your face. Disbelief first, anger next because Jesus, Steve was supposed to be your happy ending, and finally acceptance, Nat’s words about not being able to dismantle the mine slowly turning into something inevitable. It’s ok, you tell yourself. You were living on borrowed time anyway. 

“-they could try,” Steve says, looking at you in a way that tells you he knows something’s up. He points at his earpiece, “Your comm’s on, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to give him an apologetic smile, but undoubtedly failing. “I’m sorry, Steve, but-” you shrug, “I just had to know.” You bite your lip to keep from crying and it’s almost as if the reality of it all has finally sunken in, “There’s nothing we can do.” 

“There has to be something-”

A chorus of no’s echoes over your comms unit. 

“No,” you shake your head, the tears you've been trying so hard to fight back finally spilling over, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Steve. My heart is pounding in my chest, my leg has been shaking non-stop for the past minute or so, if I- If I spasm right now-”

“Stop.”

“Steve-”

“Stop!” He rubs his hands over his face, “There’s got to be another way.” He turns his comms unit back on, “Bruce, what about a weight transfer?”

Bruce hesitates, “I’m not sure I-”

“The only reason the mine hasn’t exploded yet is because somehow her weight is keeping the pin in place, right?” He sounds frantic, pacing back and forth in front of you, “So what if I find something that’s the same weight and we do a transfer?”

“I don’t know, Cap,” Bruce says, “that’s really tricky. It has to be perfectly timed.” 

“At least wait until we get there,” Tony suggests, “don’t go at this on your own.”

“We’re less than a minute out, Steve,” Nat offers, “please wait.” 

“What about my shield, maybe-”

“Steve?” Your voice is weak, hardly audible but somehow he hears you and stops talking. “Steve, look at me.” When he does, you nod, “It’s ok.”

“What?” 

“Go get your shield.” You take a ragged breath and blow it out in a small puff before you nod to the car, “Go.”

“They’re almost here,” Steve tries and you know it’s because he doesn’t want to leave you, “they can pick it up.”

“Steve,” you try again, your voice a little louder this time, “go get your shield.” 

He looks from you to the car and back, unsure of what to do. 

It’s then you hear the distant rumble of another vehicle approaching and you know there’s not much time left. Another deep breath, “Now.” 

He furrows his brows at your command but then does as he’s told, and you let out a sigh of relief as you watch him jog to the car where he opens the trunk. He stands still for a moment, drops his head, and you can tell he’s feeling desperate and out of control. Leaving him behind hurts you more than anything else, but you know there’s no way you’ll make it out of this alive. It feels like whatever got a hold of your heart earlier tightens its grip, making you gasp for breath. 

“Steve,” you tell him, your voice soft as you see him turn towards you, his shield in one hand as he closes the trunk with the other, “it’s ok. It’s time to let me go.” 

You think you hear Tony whisper a quiet, “Fuck,” over the comms unit. 

“I know. I’m sorry guys,” you tell your team, “but I guess we all know there’s no other way.”  “Are you sure?” It’s Tony who asks you the question. You nod, even though they can’t see you, “It’s the only way.”

“It’s ok,” Nat says, her voice a little unsteady, “It’s ok. I’ll take care of him.” 

“I’m gonna miss you, kid,” Clint tells you in a whisper.

“It was an honor working with you,” Bruce says, his voice catching on the last word, “I’ll keep your research going, doc.” 

“You are braver than anyone I’ve ever met,” Tony admits quietly, “I won’t forget you.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, a single tear sliding down your cheek. 

When you look back up you see Steve is still rooted in the same spot, disbelief written all over his face. You try to smile at him, “I love you,” a sob then, “I just want you to know that.” 

Something else registers on his face then, something you recognize as the determination to make things right and you know it’s your cue. 

“Let me go, Steve,” you nod to let him know it’s ok. A faint smile then as you remember the first time you met him, “I guess this is where I leave you.”

From that moment everything happens in slow motion. 

Steve is running towards you, eyes wide in shock when finally he understands what you’re about to do. 

You give him one last apologetic smile, and another “I love you.” 

He comes to an abrupt stop just thirty yards away from you and watches you as you take one last deep breath. 

It’s time to move, you tell yourself, and when the neurons fire from your brain and the muscles in your leg react you whisper a final, “It’s ok.” 

The last thing you see and hear is Steve, his eyes finding yours as he quietly tells you, “It’s ok. I love you.” 

[steepgan]

someone dear (i) — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

PART I - PART II - PART III

bye i created this on a whim ive always wanted to write an mc who just likes money yet still carries the “happiness/freedom” ideals of mondstadt.. essentially its an mc whos like hell yeah i love money <3 and fun..!!! okay also i did not edit this at all i was just like <3 writing time baby..

Of course, working for the wealthiest gentleman in Mondstadt was no easy task. There were two places you could work: Dawn Winery or Angel’s Share. The winery, settled in the countryside, was a cozy job with friendly workers who saw rolling hills of green every day; however, the only available occupation within your skillset was being a maid. So you worked at Angel’s Share which was planted in the city, and there you were greeted with weary workers and angry people. It was plenty more fun, anyway.

Your boss was as impassive as a tree, giving you your pay and leaving you be. He kept a strange emotional distance. Which was fine. Totally fine. But whenever you wanted a raise, his aloof attitude warded you off and you’d tell yourself you’d try next time.

Growing up in a household where money was a prominent figure in your life, you had materialistic values and a great love for money. So during your employment at the tavern, you picked up more shifts than anyone else and seldom splurged. You were stuck giving your laments to your friends and returning customers who were kind enough to humor wails.

“One of these days, Lisa, I’m actually going to lose it,” you said to the librarian of the knights. You slumped your body on the bar, clearly in a professional fashion. “What do you want to drink?”

Lisa gave you a pitying look. “You could always become a knight or an adventurer. They receive plenty of pay through commissions.”

“No, thank you! I kind of want to live.”

“I don’t think I’ll have anything to drink,” Lisa said. She laughed at your sullen expression. “Today, at least. I have to explore these ruins later today. I really, really don’t want to, but Jean is making me.”

You slid a tin can labelled TIPS to Lisa. “Every time you don’t want to do something it’s five mora.”

“Since when did this become a thing?”

“It’s always been a thing. I was just giving you a family-friend discount up until now.”

Lisa dropped the coins into the can. You smiled at the sound of click-clank. Lisa rested her cheek on the palm of her hand and said, “have you ever thought about… not working for the tavern? I’m sure there are other places in the world that’ll appreciate your pleasant company.”

“Yeah, but Master Diluc pays the best in Mondstadt if you don’t have a decent education under your belt,” you said dryly. “I’d have to travel out of Mondstadt to find a better opportunity.”

“There’s always the cathedral,” Lisa offered. 

“Do you see me as a devout follower to any god other than money? [Name], Humble Follower of Barbatos Since The Beginning! Engrave that on my tombstone, would you?”

“I don’t really want to do that.”

You pushed the tin can toward the librarian.

Lo and behold, the man of the hour strutted in with his typical apathy. If he carried himself with a more open chest and with his chin up, you’d find him more agreeable, more approachable. He’d be knightly, even. But Diluc hated knights. He hated small talk, too. He hated a lot of things.

He was a man of good looks and good fortune, in addition to being Mondstradt’s most eligible brooding bachelor bastard, donning a nice black coat with golden trimmings and tassels. A coat that’d fetch a nice price if you were to pawn it off. Not that you were thinking about selling your boss’ clothes. He stood at a decent height with his vermillion messy hair tied back and narrow eyes framed with thick lashes. 

When Diluc walked through the doors, he didn’t spare you a glance before climbing up the stairs to deal with some other matters. As long as you did your job, he didn’t bother you.

Lisa whistled. “He’s so cold.”

“Pays well, though,” you murmured absentmindedly. Lisa looked as if she wanted to say something. Maybe it was something about how money didn’t exactly suffice for human relationships. Or something about her future job for the knights. Whatever was on the tip of her tongue, she chose not to say it, and dropped a few more mora coins into your little tin can.

Your relationship with Diluc was strange. You took enough shifts to be one of the most well-compensated workers under him, but you didn’t exactly know Diluc outside of his cool exterior. You didn’t know if you’d wanted to, either. Some nights, he’d come home right before the tavern’s opening, his clothes tattered and dirty and a grim feature coating his pretty features.

Typically you’d be working and cleaning, and you’d nod to him. Diluc would then take off to the second floor of the tavern. You never questioned it. You never would, either, unless you were paid to do so. 

One late night, it was just you cleaning up for the night and Diluc sitting at the bar, going through some papers. Diluc offered to take Charles’ shift for the day, to which the man was grateful for. As you were wiping down the bar, Diluc said, “I never knew we had a tip jar.”

“It’s an ongoing gag with Lisa,” you said. “Please don’t mind it.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It was a joke with Lisa! You simply kept it out on the counter for every customer to see all day and all night. If they happen to drop mora in there for your charming smile and excellent service, who were you to stop them?

Diluc said nothing. You hadn’t expected him to. He’d let it slide, you supposed. If the tavern had a best employee of the month award, you would have won it consecutively for the last few years you’d been employed under the pretty man. However, Diluc was no great lover of trivial awards that were actually poorly concealed incentives, and as long as you were paid accordingly, you didn’t care about awards, either.

“If you needed a raise then say it,” he said suddenly. And you were surprised.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No need.”

When you left the tavern you squealed. Patton, the caller, awoke from his nap from a chair supposedly for customers. His legs had been propped on the accompanying table, which you had cleaned earlier so you didn’t have to deal with a certain customer who had too much to drink inside.

Patton rubbed his eyes groggily. “What’s up, [Name]?”

“I got a raise!” you exclaimed. “I’m so happy I could kiss you right now, Patton.”

“Please don’t,” he said. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Oh, leftovers.” You gave the small bag you were holding a good jostle. “It’s for the dog up there. I have a habit of feeding him every once in a while whenever there’s good scraps.”

Patton eyed you. “If you get bit and infected with rabies, maybe I’ll take your raise. Try and pet it for me, would you?”

“In your dreams, Patton.”

After a few taunts and banter, you left Patton alone. In a few hours, you’d come back to the tavern to work more. Before your mom had been hospitalized, you’d maybe put your extra money to treat yourself to Good Hunter or to buy new clothes. 

Of course, while money was one of your many goals, you had other aspirations as well. More than anything, you’d like to resume a humble life in Mondstadt. If you could afford it, then you’d travel to Liyue and sightsee. And then maybe a little further. But you’d always return to Mondstadt. It was just home to you, and you liked home.

You crouched and fed the dog. He pressed his snout into your palm, warm and comforting. You giggled and finished the leftovers from your little sack. As much as Patton wanted you to die of infection, the dog was very tame and kind toward you. He let you brush his fur and scratch behind his ears. If you had enough patience and enough time, you’d teach him to bite Patton.

The next day, you were working with Charles, as per usual. He’d been working here far longer than any of you. You’d been employed here for a while now, and you’d come to know the man quite well after rowdy nights and quiet days in the tavern. He despised a drunk customer as much as you, but whenever you were on shift with him, he always offered to take care of it.

If not you, then Charles would get the nonexistent employee of the year award.

“Just put up a work wanted poster,” Charles said, cleaning a glass. “Judging by our usuals, we won’t get an honest inquiry for it in a while.”

You, who’d been making an apple cider, said, “oh, for the boars?” While you did want to work at the winery for its pleasant view and people, there were boars who’d been uprooting vines and you did not want to tussle with a boar. 

“Say, [Name], you heard of the Darknight Hero?”

“Who hasn’t?” you asked. “My friends talk about him all the time. Everyone likes a good mystery around these parts. Have you seen the library? Oh, and the idea of him being handsome isn’t that bad… Do you think he’s rich, Charles?”

Charles snorted. “If he can afford to leave at night to protect Mondstadt, then he must be rich. He’s no worker like us, but he’s definitely noteworthy. He may as well just be an urban rumor, though, so don’t go around trying to seduce him only to get into his pockets.”

“I would never!”

“I saw you make eyes at a customer who was wearing very fine jewelry that could be pawned off for a high price.”

“I liked her eyes. They were kind. Reminded me of a princess from a fairytale.”

Diluc came from upstairs to the first floor. He was the same as he’d always been—closed off, calm, and collected. Fitting. He cast a quick glance at you and Charles before disappearing outside onto the streets of Mondstadt.

“That’s Master Diluc for you,” Charles said. “So elusive you could call him a ghost. A handsome, ghost, that is.”

“I barely know anything about him,” you said. “Elusive is correct, if not absolutely distant.”

“Really? You should talk to him more often.”

There was already a set difference between you and Charles. Firstly, it would be the years working at Angel’s Share. Charles knew Diluc more than you did. You wanted to point this out, but instead you slumped your shoulders. “He’s just so unapproachable, Charles. You wouldn’t understand. That mustache of yours makes you look amicable and agreeable.”

Charles self-consciously twirled the end of his mustache. He looked as if he wanted to say something. He turned back to his work, setting the clean glass down. “You and Master Diluc seem to complement each other, that’s all.”

You were very friendly and a good person underneath all your materialistic values. Had it not been for Diluc’s offstandish personality, maybe you and Diluc would be a little more than boss and employee. Maybe you and Diluc would be friends.

Of course, your main focus was your happiness and sanity. If you’d interacted with Diluc outside of work, you might’ve gone insane. Oh! And money. It was always money. You watched a customer drop a few mora into the tip jar.

PART I - PART II - PART III

[link4eva]

Kiro’s Rhythm Date Translation [CN]

Hey, y’all! A quick note before you begin reading, I do not know any Chinese at all so Google Translate is the real MVP here. I’ve just taken the time to write down what comes out and changed some words here and there to try and make it make more sense. So apologies for the amateur translation in advance lol. This is just mainly to get the gist of the date before it eventually releases on the ENG server. Hope you enjoy it!

*Spoilers ahead for future content!*

[First Part]

After typing the last word of the report, I hit the enter key hard with my hand and then let out a cry of joy from my heart.

MC: It’s finally done!!!!!

Kiro: You’re finally done!!!!

Almost at the same time, Kiro, who was sitting on the sofa, took off his headset and threw it aside, raising his hands and cheering along with me. The next moment, his twinkling eyes looked at me.

Kiro: MC, let’s go out on a date! I thought for sure that this weekend would be spent working, but it seems that God still cares for us!

He didn’t wait for me to answer, he had already taken a few steps and sat across from me, holding the back of the chair and looking at me expectantly.

Kiro: Let’s go to the cake place that just opened up recently, I want to try it.

He held up his fingers and began to count the deliciousness of his thoughts. I cleared my throat and interrupted his daydream mercilessly.

MC: That’s it! The sunny weather is so nice, shouldn’t we go out and exercise? Savin asked me to supervise you. Recently, you’ve been slacking on your exercise regime to write songs. So... 

Kiro: ...I knew it.

He lowered his head and sighed heavily but the happy smile returned in the next second.

Kiro: Let’s just exercise. Life lies in exercise and to enjoy life is to exercise with Miss Chips!

He told me to wait in a tone of voice I had never heard before and got up to change his clothes. I also went to change into sportswear that I had left at his house when we exercised last time.

Putting on my shoes and standing in the hall, I picked up the baseball cap and put it on Kiro’s head. I helped him straighten his messed up bangs.

He led the way down the hallway, but his toes tapped the ground like a beat as if he couldn’t wait. 

MC: Make sure you don’t get recognized when we’re out later.

Kiro: Don’t worry, I promise to complete the mission!

Kiro obediently agreed. Before leaving the house, he turned his head and waved at Apple Box lying on the sofa.

Kiro: The task of housekeeping is left to you. We are going out!

I don’t know if Apple Box understood initially. To my surprise, he seemed to understand and replied with a “Woof!”.

[Second Part]

The weather outside was just right. The breeze that is blowing is warm on my face, almost as if it’s driving away the fatigue caused by the long days of work.

I followed Kiro and jogged forward aimlessly. From time to time, he slowed down and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with me, humming as if he had just written a song.

Kiro: MC, are you tired?

As soon as I met his gaze, he couldn’t wait to inquire again and the thoughts in his eyes couldn’t hide.

MC: Although I am a bit tired, I can hold on for a while!

Kiro: Ah, that’s it, but-

He suddenly stopped halfway through his words and a trace of worry flashed across his face. I looked and stopped teasing him for the time being. 

MC: Actually, it’s not impossible to rest for an hour or two.

Hearing these words, his eyes lit up.

Kiro: Then let’s rest for “one or two hours”!

He grabbed my hand and walked happily in one direction. The warmth of his palm matched the warmth of his eyes.

MC: Where are we going?

As soon as I asked, after turning a corner, a familiar street appeared in front of us. Tall and lush trees stood, exquisite old-fashioned buildings scattered. There were bustling young men and women and the smell of honey and coffee permeated the air.

--Isn’t this the street that has been very popular recently?!

I immediately caught on to what he was doing. I was amused but also a little annoyed.

MC: Have you planned the route in advance?

Kiro nodded, showing a natural smile.

Kiro: SInce I’m coming with you, of course. I have to plan every step in advance! There is a shop here where you can pick the toppings to put on a chiffon cake. The most popular one is raspberry.

I don’t know whether it was affected by Kiro’s vivid appearance or by the sweet fragrance in the air, Savin’s image slowly came to mind.

MC: It sounds really delicious!

Kiro: Alright then, let’s go! I have already made a reservation!

In a few seconds, I put aside my worries and joined him among the crowds on the street, enjoying the break.

It was a perfect moment, but all of a sudden, an unexpected guest stopped in front of us.

[Third Part]

Reporter: Excuse me, both of you! We are randomly interviewing attractive couples! Can you answer a few questions? *The translation came out as “high-value” so I’m going to assume it means “attractive”.*

The moment I saw the camera, I was already in front of Kiro, looking at this fashionable, young man with vigilance.

MC: Sorry, we’re busy at the moment. You can interview other people.

Reporter: But other people don’t fit the original intention of our “Feast for the Eyes” program! Only a few minutes of your time! 

Reporter: Huh? Why does this man look a bit like…?

I had a bad feeling and I stretched out my hand to hold Kiro’s cuff. The next moment, the reporter slapped his thighs one by one--

Reporter: Yep! It’s Kiro!

His voice isn’t loud but it still draws all the eyes around us.

MC: You’ve got the wrong person! Let me trouble you!

I resolutely denied his claim before everyone could react. I immediately pulled Kiro into the crowd and quickly slipped away.

Kiro: (pouting) Why do we always encounter such things when we go out on dates? 

In addition to the loud voices behind me asking, “Where’s Kiro?”, there is also Kiro silently complaining.

[Cut to Kiro’s house]

After hurriedly “escaping” back home, my highly elevated heartbeat finally began to calm down. 

MC: Safe at last…

Kiro: I didn’t eat anything this time but I burned a lot of calories.

MC: Probably because God is standing on Savin’s side, we can do nothing but accept it!

Kiro: But I don’t want to accept it…

Kiro plopped on the sofa and hugged Apple Box and looked up at me with a sad pair of eyes.

Kiro: Alas, why can’t he make this world just for the two of us! *I had to change some of the wording here. What came out originally was kinda wonky.*

I looked at my phone and found out that what happened just now did not arouse any attention. I felt secretly relieved. Kiro saw this and looked out the window and saw the sun. He sighed.

Kiro: It’s so rare when the weather is this nice. We finally had some time together… It’s a pity not to do anything.

MC: Then let’s do something we can do at home. Perhaps watching a movie?

Kiro: Movies… Are there any good movies recently?

Although he appeared to be uninterested, he still put his head down and browsed the newly released movies with me.

Before I had a chance to look, a furry head squeezed between the two of us and pushed Kiro aside.

Kiro: Apple Box, don’t make trouble… Wait, what are you biting?! Ahh! Let go of my game controller!

Kiro swooped forward and Apple Box dodged swiftly. In the hot pursuit of Kiro chasing Apple Box, he accidentally bumped into some things. 

The screen that had just stopped at the movie interface suddenly switched and several dynamic virtual characters appeared. As if drawn to this, Apple Box blinked his beady eyes and looked straight at the TV screen.

Kiro quickly grabbed the other half of the game controller from Apple Box’s mouth and clicked it angrily. Little brains.*I don’t know what “little brains” is haha.*

Kiro: I finally caught you, bad guy!

Apple Box, whose “toy” was suddenly taken away, looked at Kiro innocently. He wiggled his ears aggrievedly. I was softened by his eyes and I reached out to rub his head.

MC: Apple Box, you must be a good boy and not be so rowdy.

Apple Box: Woof!

As if he understood, Apple Box shook his head obediently and his fluffy fur rubbed against the palm of my hand. He then turned around excitedly and wagged his tail at the TV screen.

Kiro and I looked at the dazzling picture on the screen at the same time. The characters on it also writhed in time.

Kiro: Miss Chips, let’s play a motion sensory game!

MC: Why don’t we play this? Sports and leisure combined are great!

Talking in unison, we both laughed out loud. After deciding what to do, Kiro and I sat down on the carpet in front of the TV, choosing a game that we could play for a while. He put his head on my shoulder, expressing his opinions from time to time.

Kiro: I think this game is good! It’s fun!

Kiro’s breathing on my neck was ticklish and I shrank my neck. I watched the screen being manipulated to jump up and down to escape. The character retreated into himself.

MC: This feels too difficult. Let’s look at the next one.

Kiro: It’s not that bad! I set a world record in only one attempt!

He raised the corners of his mouth as he spoke, his expression extremely proud. Although he knew that as KEY, he was skilled at all aspects in the game.

MC: Well, then this game is not challenging for you…!

As if I had seen myself in the game, I decisively switched to the next interface.

Kiro: Eh? I don’t seem to have played this game before…

I was overjoyed when I heard this and made a decision almost immediately.

MC: Then let’s play “Just Dance”! 

This is a very popular music and dance game recently. Players can choose different dancer characters to play as. Players have to imitate the people on screen and dance in order to win.

Because this game is simple and easy to use and, and has many popular songs, it has been popular all over the world after it’s release.

MC: Now both of us are novices. This is equal ground!

I gave a controller to him, nodded and said in a serious tone. Kiro raised his chin slightly with a smirk.

Kiro: So, MC, do you want to challenge my status as KEY?

MC: I won’t give up easily!

After that, the game begins.

[Fourth Part] 

If I could go back in time by just 10 minutes, I definitely would’ve said something different about the game being “equal grounds”.

MC: What! Jumping wrong again!

The movements the two of us were doing were obviously strange at first. But after a while, we became one with the dance.

MC: Why am I always slow!

Kiro: Don’t worry! Treat this as a novice level and then adapt slowly from there.

MC: Then this newbie level is too difficult for me…

I was bitter. I felt as though my hands and feet were rebelling against me.

Kiro: It’s not difficult as long as you master the basics. For example, this movement here. As long as your hand is raised to this position, you will be guaranteed to pass.

He gestured for me to do the movement that stumped me just now, and I followed suit.

MC: Like this?

Kiro: Almost.

He walked up to me, grabbed my wrist and raised my head, then tilted my head to the other side.

MC: Is this it?

I followed his instructions and turned into ten twisted poses. I found the smile on his face grew wider and wider and he couldn’t help but laugh.

Kiro: Puff hahaha, MC, you are so obedient!

MC: KIRO!

I became annoyed at once. I reached out to try and mess up his hair but he leaned back and dodged me smoothly.

Kiro: I was wrong! I was wrong! I was wrong!

MC: I won’t let you get away!

I kept tickling the sensitive skin on his waist. Kiro dodged from left to right and wrapped me in his arms. He is like a koala. He has me locked firmly in his arms, making it hard for me to move.

Kiro: Haha, so you won’t be able to tickle me!

There was a bit of pride in his laughter and his hot breath after exercising clung to my back, even in my chest. The rhythm of our heartbeats can’t be concealed. My heartbeat somehow increased.

MC: I, I won’t do what I did before again. Let go of me first, or how else can we continue playing the game?

Kiro: Well, alright.

He released his arms, looking reluctant, but turned his attention back to the game again.

Kiro: So this time we will warm up with the easier songs and then challenge each other with the more difficult ones!

I didn’t know what Kiro’s “simple difficulty” meant until the melody of a familiar foreign nursery rhyme played from the speakers. But soon I put the matter of nursery rhymes aside and danced awkwardly with the little dino on screen. 

With the cute and cheerful melody, everything becomes more fun. Compared with the previous song, Kiro danced such an overly cute dance. It was a bit strange.

He stared at the screen earnestly, making movements while humming his own jumbled lyrics to the tune of the music.

Kiro: (singing) I’m a little dinosaur~ little dinosaur~

His blonde hair puffed up by the hairband also jumped along with his movements. A sweat bead from his forehead “ticked” off and fell onto his collarbone hidden by his collar.

MC: Obviously I am the little dinosaur!

The “perfect” floating above the screen made my previously annoyed mood become more excited. The magic of the game is to make people forget all their troubles. When I’m with Kiro, these simple dances turn into the simplest happiness.

After the song ended, I watched the rating jump up to four stars. I couldn’t help but hug Kiro and cheer.

MC: Ahh, it’s four stars! Only a little bit short away from getting full stars!!

Kiro: See, that wasn’t so hard for you, was it?

MC: Sure enough, it’s not difficult to master the trick you taught me!

I confidently picked the next song to “conquer” but suddenly saw a familiar name.

MC: Huh, there is this song?

It was a song from Kiro’s latest album. I quickly turned to look at him. However, Kiro frowned slightly while staring at his song, his expression a bit solemn.

Kiro: This song was licensed to them. But I feel that it’s a bit awkward to dance to my own songs in the game.

Seeing him acting unlike his usual self, I felt a sense of curiosity. Even though the “highly difficult” sign made me a little worried, I still pressed the confirm button decisively. 

MC: Let’s dance to this song. I want to see if the original dancer can beat the game!

Meeting his gaze, Kiro hesitated for a second and quickly gave in. 

Kiro: If you want to dance, MC, you can, but this dance is very difficult. Don’t force yourself to.

MC: Hmm!

Accompanied by the “START” character flashing, the intermingled sound of the electric guitar and keyboard sounded. Kiro held the controller and imitated the people on the screen, raising his hand to make a pose.

Boom--

The powerful drum beats go straight to the heart. Kiro’s face is very serious and every movement that he executes is in rhythm with the music and is full of power.

He stepped barefoot on the carpet, clearly wearing ordinary sportswear, but he seemed to be standing in the centre of the stage.

And in this small living room, me being the only audience, got to “exclusively” enjoy this performance. I don’t know if I should watch him wholeheartedly or if I should continue to clumsily dance with the animation.

While I was lost in thought, I accidentally tripped over my left foot with my right. Seeing that the hand that was swung out was about to hit Kiro, I withdrew it quickly. 

I was hit with an elbow

MC: Ouch!

I squatted down, clutching the area I was hit, and buried my head between my knees.

Kiro: MC? What happened?!

He squatted down worriedly in front of me with his arms open. It looked like he wanted to hug me to comfort me but was worried that it would be bad so he stopped midway.

Kiro: What’s wrong? Is your leg cramping?

MC: Just now, I…

I shook my head, thinking of the silly thing I did just now. My ears and face were beet red. Before I had time to explain, Kiro put one hand behind my back and one hand under my knees and lifted me up.

MC: Wait! I can walk by myself!

He denied my protests and placed me gently on the sofa in a few large strides. He slowly lifted up one of my feet and carefully pressed the tight muscles of my calf with the pad of his finger.

Kiro: Does it hurt? Tell me if it hurts.

I forgot to respond. Seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, he slowed his movements down again and became more gentle. The sunset shining from the outside hit the top of his head forming a very gentle glow. It gave me the urge to rub it.

MC: Kiro, I’m fine. I didn’t hurt myself by forcing myself... I was just watching you…

The more I talked, the quieter I became. The temperature of my cheeks rose. After all, it would be too embarrassing to explain that I hit myself while dancing!

It was silent for a few seconds and Kiro finally laughed out loud.

Kiro: I didn’t expect my Miss Chips to be so honest. Now, just look at me.

Kiro raised his hand in a squatting position, and I found myself looking into his gentle blue eyes. When the music hit it’s climax, the drum beat gradually grew faster and got closely intertwined into an airtight net as if the soul is enveloped in it. *Wording was a little weird here. I think it’s supposed to be a heartbeat but the kanji for heart (心) isn’t in the original text.* 

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Like my heartbeat right now, it's so strong that it’s about to beat out of my chest. Kiro seemed to see right through me and stood up. He supported the back of the sofa with one hand and held my wrist with the other to prevent me from escaping. When his nose came up to meet mine, he rubbed it.

Kiro: MC, I’m curious…

Looking at my bewildered and embarrassed face, he suddenly gave a sly smile.

Kiro: Is the rhythm of your heartbeat the same as mine right now?

His eyes were full of warmth and gentleness. His words were like a poet writing lyrics, a sorcerer chanting a bewitching spell. 

Kiro: It is the same as mine. Everytime it beats. It only beats for you.

The breath that belonged to him slowly approached, the music continued playing in the background, and the game on screen kept showing “miss”.

The rhythm of our heartbeats has already been in sync with the beat and sweat. *This last part here was a little wonky with the wording*.

[END]

(Here is the link to his "Strawberry Invitation" call after the date!)

[ahkaahshi]

1:32 AM [hirugami sachirou x reader]

pairing: hirugami sachirou x fem reader

genre: fluff with sprinkles of angst

warning(s): descriptions of catastrophic thinking/anxiety, brief mentions of death, swearing

word count: 2.5k

overview: when hirugami’s old habits of rumination come back to haunt him, there’s only one person who can bring him peace

By the time it’s 1:32 AM, Hirugami has spent no less than a half hour staring at the digitized numbers of the alarm clock cutting through the darkness, watching the precious seconds and minutes of sleep tick away before his eyes. A strange haze hangs over him, and it’s as if his ears have been stuffed with cotton, amplifying all the thoughts pounding against his skull. For a moment, there’s an eerie silence in his head, during which he can hear the leaves whispering in the breeze outside of his window, and he thinks he’s finally falling asleep, but the quietude is painfully temporary.

With a heavy sigh, he turns on his back and stares up at the ceiling, giving his thoughts a moment to surface individually, like bubbles rising to meet the daylight shining down on a body of water.

When will what I do ever be enough?

Did I really choose the right path in life?

Would I still feel this way if my life had played out differently?

When will these thoughts stop?

Rumination is nothing new to him. Despite being able to keep the habit tucked away for a majority of his high school years with both yours and Hoshiumi’s help, he finds that it often comes back to haunt him at the most unexpected times. His week at work had been as smooth as it could be given he was a busy veterinarian, yet he’d felt a knot of something—uncertainty?—forming within him over the course of the past few days. Where it had originated from he had no clue, but it was proving to be a formidable opponent now, in the late hours of the evening while the rest of the neighborhood slept.

The journal on his bedside table catches his attention, and as much as he knows he should take a moment to pen down his troubles in an attempt to put them to rest, his hands feel too heavy to move. Just making the simple trip from his chest to the table feels like the most effortful task in the universe. He does, however, find the strength and motivation to reach for his phone lying beside him where he’d tossed it in agony after realizing he was using it far too long after bedtime.

His eyelids instinctively narrow at the sudden influx of light that spills onto his face from the screen when he turns it on, even though the brightness is at its lowest setting. Lazy drags of his fingertips find him face to face with your smiling contact photo, and sluggish taps compose a more to-the-point text message than he usually sends asking if you’re still awake. Gray dots appearing, then promptly disappearing along the bottom of his screen proves that you are—and in an instant, he’s answering a call from you.

“What’s up, Sachi?” you ask, voice more chipper than he’d expect at this hour.

“Nothin’ much,” he lies with a yawn. Hearing his voice weighted so heavily with fatigue makes your heart sink in your chest. “What’re you up to?”

He can hear rustling through the phone as you readjust the blankets ensconcing you to pull them up to your shoulders again. Gazing at your glowing computer screen, you respond, “Just watching a movie,” before asking, “Everything okay?”

“Just having trouble getting to sleep, is all,” he explains, the words leaving his mouth in another exasperated groan, “So, I thought I’d talk to my favorite person if she was still awake.”

Jokingly, you comment, “I won’t tell Kourai you said that, yeah?”

He chuckles. “Thanks.”

A comfortable moment of silence passes, during which you shuffle your feet beneath the covers to warm them up and he allows his eyelids to flutter shut so he can focus his full attention on the sound of your voice when you speak again. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Don’t you get tired of it, (f/n)?”

“Of what, baby?”

“Of listening to me talk myself in circles when I’m like this and hearing about the same issues over and over again?”

Though there’s a hint of irritation laced in his tone, you know it’s directed at himself rather than at you. “Sachi, you can talk about whatever you want as much as you want. I know how much you keep to yourself, so it’s okay. I just want to help, since I know how exhausting it must be for you to deal with.” There’s a short pause, and you know from experience that his mind is most likely distorting your words, forming them into daggers he sinks into his own heart. “I promise, it’s okay to talk to me about it. Trust me.”

He blinks slowly, takes a deep breath, and agrees, “Okay.”

Pursing your lips, you glance around the darkness of your room until your eyes settle on the bag you’d already packed, ready to take to his house for your scheduled weekend visits. “Would it help if you could see my face?” you wonder, your mouth curling up into a small grin regardless of the fact that he can’t see it.

“Well,” he hums, dragging his long fingers through his chestnut brown hair, “you know I’d never turn down the opportunity to see my gorgeous girlfriend, but you’ll have to give me a minute to touch up my makeup.”

With a snicker, you retort, “You’ll have plenty of time to pull yourself together if I just come over instead.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, sweetheart. Not at this ungodly hour.”

“And you didn’t,” you reaffirm, “but I want to, so, will you let me visit a whole—” you interrupt yourself to check the time before continuing—“eight and a half hours earlier than we’d originally planned?”

“I would love that,” is his answer given without hesitation despite his initial, intrusive thought of being burdensome to you by allowing you to drive over so early in the morning.

And even though he feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into the spiral of negative ideas swirling around him like the raging waters of a whirlpool, he doesn’t regret accepting your invitation when you arrive about twenty minutes later. Upon opening the door to your car for you, he’s greeted by your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close for a tight hug that instantly engulfs him in a warm feeling of comfort that he can’t liken to anything else he’s ever felt before from anyone else. He holds your body flush against his—even after he’s felt your grip loosen in a signal to pull away that then tightens once more at realizing he’s not quite finished yet—and acknowledges the guilt that suddenly rises within him.

How could I ever want to know how things could’ve been different when I have her?

“Thanks for coming,” he whispers, craning his neck to press a kiss to yours before finally releasing you and slinging your bag over his shoulder. The wave of cold air that rushes between your bodies at their separation nearly makes you reach for him again, but you settle for latching onto his hand instead while the two of you make your way up to his apartment. “You made it here in record time, speed racer.”

Chuckling, you joke, “Drove like I was answering a booty call.”

“I’m truly flattered.”

The gentle smile across his lips has your heart skipping a beat in your chest but doesn’t hide the fatigue clearly present on his handsome features. His hand on your back gently ushers you inside the familiar warmth of his home when he unlocks the door, and you make a beeline to his bedroom once you’ve kicked off your shoes. A look of amusement glimmers in his eyes at how quickly you settle yourself down in his bed and bury yourself under his comforter and blankets.

As he climbs into bed beside you, your hands move to the sides of his face to pull him towards you for a gentle kiss. “What’s going on, Sachi?” you murmur after your lips part. He sits on the mattress beside you, and the sinking of the bed naturally draws you closer to one another until your arms are wrapped around his torso and his draped over your shoulders.

“Just the usual,” he sighs, fingers absentmindedly grazing the fabric of your sweater, “You know, the whole wondering if I’ve done everything right bit. My mind just loves reminding me of my mistakes and going through how I could’ve handled things differently, even if the thing in question happened, like, five years ago.”

You hum understandingly and nod, focusing on his words to keep yourself awake—which is a challenge when his body feels like a lullaby.

“I’m still hung up over that dog we couldn’t save last month. Every day, I find myself thinking of the moment when his heartbeat just… stopped. And the look in his owner’s eyes when I told her he hadn’t made it. And I just wonder, what could I have done differently to keep him alive?”

He swallows thickly and breathes out a somewhat frustrated sigh. “And I replay the arguments I’ve had with people—and with you—in my head, wondering what I could’ve done to prevent them. But I know that hindsight’s twenty-twenty and that if I’d have known the answer or what was to come beforehand then it never would’ve happened to begin with. It’s so frustrating because I know this, I’ve been able to accept mistakes and let them go, yet I still beat myself up really badly over things every now and then.”

Moving away from him slightly so you can look up at him, into his weary but kind and welcoming gaze, you place your hands on his shoulders and give him a small smile. “Baby,” you say with an affectionate squeeze to his muscles, “these shoulders of yours are so strong, but they’re meant for carrying backpacks, me when I want a piggyback ride, or any kids we may or may not have in the future; not the weight of the world.”

He tilts his head to the side so he can lower his cheek onto one of your hands, spreading heat across your skin. With the way he’s watching you so intently, you can tell how much he values your words as well as the fact that you’re here, sitting in front of him instead of gazing at him through a screen.

Slowly, speaking as the thoughts enter your mind, you assure him, “It’s okay to fuck up. How would we learn if we didn’t?” You stroke his cheek with your thumb before your fingers move to his head of waves tousled haphazardly from whatever restless sleep he’d been able to get.

“Just remind yourself of the way you usually deal with mistakes. Acknowledge them, say yeah, that happened, and it sucked ass, but I’ll do better next time, and let go of them. I mean, I know it’s way, way easier said than done, but you’re really good at it. Remember all those times in high school I came to you, freaking out over the smallest things that I’d done? Who am I kidding? I still do that; but, anyway, it’s always been you who’s helped me. Give yourself the same permission to mess up.”

Your boyfriend of many years heaves a deep sigh as he lets the truth of your statements pass through his internal filter that does a fine job, unfortunately, in this case, of sifting through only the ideas he wants to believe. Though they’re met with initial resistance that only manifests as a defense mechanism, all your words manage to remain after the process like the smallest pieces of gold hidden amongst layers and layers of sediment.

Taking your hand in his, you tell him, “There aren’t really any right or wrong decisions, and I know you know that. They’re just choices you make. Mistakes are gonna happen no matter what, but you’re gonna be okay. I know you, Hirugami Sachirou, and I know how strong and determined you are. You can do what you set your mind to and with that smile on your face some people find annoying—” the grin in question appears on his lips, making you laugh—“Yeah, that one. So, get it into that big brain of yours that you’re doing your best or I’ll have to rough you up a bit.”

“I’m shaking in my boots.”

“As you should be.”

In an instant, the heavy layers of worry that had restricted him before unravel at your definitive statement, and he’s laughing while he pulls you into his arms once more. As always, his laughter is contagious, and it’s not long before you’re doing the same, body shaking against his. “Don’t unleash your wrath on me, baby; I’ll listen, I promise. And I’ll make your favorite for breakfast tomorrow,” he concedes with a teasing tone, a yawn whisking some of his words away.

“We have a deal,” you chirp, “Now, let’s go to sleep. It’s way past your bedtime, gramps.”

He complains, “You callin’ me old?” as your bodies sink down onto the soft mattress, his head pausing in its natural course towards your chest so it can hover above yours. “’Cause I found more gray hairs than I’d like to admit when I was doing my hair yesterday, so I’m actually really self-conscious about it.”

Sticking out your lower lip in a sympathetic pout, you comment, “I said you were old, but I didn’t say that you weren’t hot.”

“So, I’ve still got it, huh?”

“You’re basically a silver fox.”

A soft hum of contentment rumbles against your lips when he presses his to them to shower you with a few, affectionate kisses. Eventually, he pulls away and pecks your chin on his way to your neck, where he nestles his head as your arms readjust to accommodate his body coming to rest against yours. “Thanks, (f/n),” he mumbles, voice suddenly heavy and lethargic compared to how it had been moments earlier, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Your fingers card through his hair softly as he takes a deep breath and slides his palm along the back of your thigh to coax it around his waist so he can move his body even closer to yours. While the two of you lie together, surrounded in warmth, feeling the gentle beating of each other’s hearts against your bodies, Hirugami finds he has nothing left to worry about—no thoughts left to disturb him. And, because his mind is finally quiet and still, the ruminating beast within him quelled by your honest words and gentle touch, sleep finally comes just as easily to him as loving you does.

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