#most of y'all will know most of the beginning already maybe i should have split it up but i wanted y'all to have Something New too

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 2

🤍🌷 read part 1 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie

This is not happening. None of this is happening, he’s… He’s dreaming. He’s high. High as a kite somewhere where reality doesn’t matter, where it can’t fucking reach him and he’s— He’s not panicking behind the wheel with Steve Fucking Harrington bleeding against the passenger side window. 

It’s not happening. 

Because if it were happening, Eddie would simply throw up. He’d leave his van on the side of the road and run the fuck away. Away from Harrington and his trouble, away from his rattling breath that’s so loud and unsteady, Eddie doesn’t even dare to turn on any sort of music, even though he’s itching for it, his hands clenching and unclenching around the wheel until his knuckles go white. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath, barely aware of his surroundings at all, his eyes flitting from Harrington to the red stain against the window, back to the road and then down to the white-knuckled grip and the speckles of dried blood that is decidedly not his. 

Lost in his panic and disbelief, Eddie almost runs a red light. 

It’s harsh, the way he hits the brakes, and the sound Harrington makes is pathetic enough that Eddie feels like maybe this might actually be happening. 

“Sorry,” he breathes, his voice no better than Steve’s — and he’s not the one with a concussion, a broken rib, and that… fucking fear. Of something. Or someone. 

Who’s hurting you, Steve? 

Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.

He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t wanna know. All he wants is for Harrington to stop fucking bleeding, to keep his eyes wide open and— 

“Ed,” the boy says, wheezes, and it sounds like he wanted to say his full name, but had to swallow first. Blood, Eddie thinks. Don’t let it be blood. “Think I’m… ‘M gonna throw up.” 

“Please don’t throw up,” Eddie says before he can stop himself, hating how small his voice sounds, how urgent — like that’s the thing to be urgent about. God, he’s such an ass, but he… If Harrington throws up, Eddie will lose it. He knows he will. 

He chances a glance over at Steve, who has somehow managed to get his right arm tangled with the handle at the door, keeping himself upright and safe from Eddie’s rather frantic driving style. His head is drooping, moving this way and that against the red-stained glass, and he blinks unseeingly as blood begins to trickle down from his nose and temple again. 

He’s making himself small, and Eddie wants to pull him upright and tell him to stay like that, tell him to stop looking so terrible, so horrible, so… 

So much like Eddie’s fucking problem. 

He hates it. Hates everything about that vision. Boys like Harrington shouldn’t look like this, shouldn’t hold themselves like this, shouldn’t… Shouldn’t have no one but Eddie to take them somewhere safe. 

It’s just not tight. 

“Don’ wanna throw up,” Steve says at last, the pause too long for Eddie’s liking, and he sounds so solemn about it, yet so helpless, and Eddie kinda wants to scream. Wants Harrington to scream. Anything to stay awake and maybe not ruin his car. Anything to not fucking die in it. 

“Tell me something,” he says then, because he knows he has to keep Harrington awake and speaking. Just for another ten, fifteen minutes, he tells himself. “Anything, yeah? Tell me anything. Gotta keep you awake there, you hear me? Sounds great, right, staying awake?” 

He’s rambling and he knows it, desperation shining through his words and the god-awful way his voice breaks a little. This is not about him, he knows it isn’t, but still he wants to punch himself, wants to pinch himself and stay fucking calm. 

But who could stay calm in a situation like this? The silence is filled with the horrible wheezing and rattling of Harrington’s breath barely audible over the engine, and Eddie has to look over several times to make sure he’s still there, still with him, still alive. His panic spikes each time. 

He’s just about to reach over and shake him a little, snap in front of his face to get him back, when—

“I don’t know what.” 

It’s quiet, that voice, breathy and tiny and almost invisible, and Eddie wants to scream again. 

Tell me why you’re so scared. Tell me why your old buddy did this to you. Hagan would never touch you, so why did he now? Tell me what happened to Hargrove. Tell me why you sound so fucking small. 

“Tell me about your…” He fumbles for a moment, taking a sharp left and pretending not to hear the choked-off whimper. Focusing on good things. On normal things. “Your favourite person.” 

Eddie cringes at himself the moment the words leave his mouth. Your favourite person? Really, Munson? He scrambles to find something better, something cooler, or maybe something easier like asking his favourite fucking colour, but the overthinking really doesn’t mix well with the already panicked state of his mind. And Eddie just blanks. 

Beside him, though, Harrington sits up a little straighter, smearing more blood against his window in the process that Eddie pretends not to feel nauseous about. 

God, he never did like blood. 

“You wan’ me to tell you ‘bout Rob?” 

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie says, a little too loud, a little too shrill, actually running a red light this time because he doesn’t want to brake again and hurt the boy some more. There’s no one around anyway. This is Hawkins. Fucking dead-end of a town. It doesn’t need red lights, or boys who look like Harrington. “Rob. Tell me ‘bout him, what’s he like? Favourite colour, all that shit.” 

“Her.” 

Eddie blinks, looking over to find Harrington looking at him — or trying to, his eyes still drooping and empty. But it’s a good sign. People don’t die when they look at you, right? 

“What?” 

“Her,” Harrington says again. “An’ blue. Deep ‘n’ dark blue. She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.”

Eddie doesn’t really listen, doesn’t really process what Steve is saying, already thinking of the next question just to keep him talking. But then he continues on his own. 

“Mornin’ blue dep— de… makes her sad, though. So only dark blue. Says it’s why we’re friends. You’re so blue, Stevie. Got half’a my clothes, still, she does. All the blues.” 

That's... really fucking endearing, actually. 

And he says it with a half-smile, too, bloody and pathetic as it is. Like it’s a secret that only the two of them are in on, only Steve and Robin. It’s kind of sweet. 

Not for the first time today does Eddie find himself wondering, Who the hell are you, Steve Harrington?

He exhales through his nose, ignoring the way he’s started to shake with all that panic that’s been sitting inside him for a little too long now with no way to let it out. 

“Not much longer,” he mumbles under his breath again, or maybe he just thinks very hard. Maybe he doesn’t know where he is at all. It’s like he blanks every few seconds, too busy thinking and trying not to.

Before he can tell Harrington to talk some more about that girlfriend of his, there’s a pained, confused little whine that forcefully tears Eddie’s eyes from the street for a moment only to meet hazel eyes widened in confusion. 

“Wh— Where… Where’re we going?” 

Oh no. 

“Why’m I in y—“ 

“You’re safe,” Eddie interrupts him, speaking slowly because suddenly his tongue is too big for his mouth, and not entirely sure if he’s reassuring Harrington or himself. “You’re hurt, okay? It’s bad, but it wasn’t me. I’m taking you to… to someone. My uncle Wayne, he’s— He knows about that kinda stuff. You were telling me about Rob. Remember her, Blue? How about you tell me some more, hm?” 

Eddie’s voice is unsteady with worry and fear and panic, and he’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding it. The thing is, he’s going to cry. He’s actually, absolutely, no-doubt-about-it going to scream and cry and punch a fucking hole into something when this day is over, when his van is no longer bloody, and when Steve Harrington won’t have reason to look at him any longer. 

Oh, how he wants to skip forward. Past the nausea, past the fear, past everything that’s happening right now. Maybe past the insomnia that will come with a day like this, too. 

Past all of it. 

Or better yet, travel back in time and never get to that fucking boat house. 

But he can’t. So he breathes. 

At first, through the ringing in his ears and the racing of his own heart so loud and so forceful he’s shaking with it, he worries that Steve’s gone silent again, that he’s gonna ask again, ask what happened, ask where he is, ask all the questions that make Eddie feel like he’s been doused in ice water because they’re questions that only get asked in stupid movies where terrible things happen to people. 

But then he hears him mumbling something. Numbers. 

“What’cha mumbling there, Blue?” 

“‘S her number,” Steve says, his voice slurring again, worse than before, and Eddie hits the gas a little harder. “‘S jus’ her number. Robbie’s number.” 

And he mumbles again. Over and over and over, until Eddie couldn’t forget it if he wanted to, ingrained into the frayed edges of his mind now. 

He lets him ramble, lets him repeat the number until the words slur together and he can’t separate a four from a nine anymore. Each time Harrington hesitates, each time he stumbles over the words or forgets a digit, Eddie wants to punch the wheel. 

He doesn’t. He only grips it tighter and counts down the turns he takes, the streets he passes, the fucking trees that are familiar, before, finally, the trailer park comes into view. 

The sob Eddie lets out when, with shaking, trembling hands he pulls up to his home to find his uncle having a smoke outside is deafening to his ears after the quiet weakness of Harrington’s voice. 

It startles him, makes him stop his rambles and sit up straighter when Eddie finally kills the engine. For a moment, without the steady, rolling hum, the car is filled with the small, tiny whines Steve makes on each exhale. Like it hurts to even breathe. 

“Wha’s wrong?” He asks, but Eddie can’t really hear him. Can’t turn to him, can’t— “Eddie?” 

He’s out of the car before he can take hold of another thought, stumbling out of his open door on legs that feel numb and heavy. The urge to cry is back again, the burning in his eyes only getting worse when Wayne takes in the dried blood on his clothes and hands with careful, calculated worry.

“Ed?” 

“I didn’t know what— where—- I’m… Wayne, I’m sorry.” 

“Slow down, kid,” Wayne says, raising his hands as if to calm a spooked deer. Like Eddie is the one who needs his help. And he is. He really, really is, and he shouldn’t be, because this isn’t about him, but—

Wayne grabs him by the shoulders to keep him still, and only now does Eddie realise he’s shaking again, restlessly moving his weight from one leg to the other. His uncle steadies him, gently pressing down on his shoulders to ground him, and Eddie nearly sobs again. 

“Ed. Are you in trouble?” 

“No,” Eddie scrambles to say, becoming aware of what this looks like, hiding his hands behind his back on instinct, like that’ll make Harrington’s blood disappear. “‘S not my blood, I didn’t do anything, I swear! I swear. It’s, uh. I just found him. In the boathouse, I found him, and he was… God, he looked so bad, okay, but he didn’t want the hospital, and he was, like, so scared of something, and we don’t even talk, we don’t even look at each other, but I just… I didn’t know what to do, and you know something about concussions and people who were beat to shit and, again, I’m—“ 

“Eddie,” Wayne says, his voice so calm but so assertive that Eddie shuts up immediately, gladly handing over to controls to his uncle now. “Who’s the kid?” 

He nods towards Eddie’s van, where Harrington looks to be halfway unbuckled, but his eyes are closed and his face smushed against the door again, like he just gave up.  

“Shit,” Eddie says, adrenaline and panic slowly falling from him with Wayne’s hand on his shoulder. He sags into his uncle and rubs at his face. “It’s Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington, I mean.” 

“Okay,” Wayne says, and he’s so calm. So calm. Eddie feels like he’s about to fall apart, and Wayne is the only one keeping him together, with that’d steady, warm hand on his shoulder. “And you promise me he didn’t give you trouble? Or anyone else who’ll come finish what they started?” 

Eddie shakes his head profusely, getting a little dizzy with it. “I promise I’m not in trouble. He said Hagan did this to him, was alone when I found him. No trouble, Wayne, I swear, I’m not like that, you know I’m not.”

“Okay,” Wayne says again, and Eddie wants to weep. “I know you’re not like that, but some people are, y’know? You did good, son. You did good. Now help me get him out of that car.” 

It takes his uncle tugging him towards the van for Eddie to kick back into motion, nearly falling over his feet turning back around. It’s only Wayne’s “Easy” murmured under his breath that keeps the ground from opening up and swallowing him whole. 

He climbs in on the driver’s side while Wayne rounds the car and gets to Harrington’s side. 

“Hey there, Blue,” Eddie says, his voice shaking and the nickname slipping again — but it’s easier to call him that than his real name, it’s easier to pretend it’s literally anyone else in here with him, bleeding against his door. 

It’s easier to pretend it’s not Harrington’s breath rattling the way it does, easier to pretend those pained groans so high in their cadence they can only count as whines don’t come from Hawkins High’s Golden Boy who graduated a few months ago and was supposed to be done with bullshit like this. 

“Come on, up you get,” he tells him, not daring to raise his voice too much. 

He looks so frail. Like he’s already broken. Or like he’s trying not to. Like he’s holding on. 

Eddie pretends not to think that the hand he places on Steve’s cheek to gently pry him from the window is not the only thing keeping that boy together right now. 

Harrington groans, whines, wheezes, but opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s. Jesus, we’re they this blown before? Or this swollen?

“Hey,” Eddie says, just to say something. Just so he won’t have to hold the boy’s face in silence, just so he won’t have to focus on all the blood. Just so he won’t have to hear more questions that people aren’t supposed to ask. 

Steve opens his mouth, his breath coming out a little sharper, like he wants to say Hi rather than Where am I? or When will it stop hurting? Like he wants to say How can I help you help me? 

Somehow, Eddie manages a smile. 

Wayne chooses that moment to open the door — just unclicking it, not pulling yet; giving Eddie enough time to support Harrington, make sure he doesn’t fall.

“Careful,” he whispers, though whether it’s for Wayne, for Steve, or for himself, he can’t quite tell. Maybe it’s a plea to the rest of the world, and to anyone else who will listen. 

Steve is still staring at him. That’s probably not a good sign. He leans back a little, turning Steve’s head to make him follow him. Slowly, of course. Gently. Eddie can’t remember ever having touched something like it was going to break if only he looked at it wrong, but somehow he’s hyper-aware of it now. 

Because Harrington is staring at him. Entirely too still, like he has no strength, no coordination to do anything but stare. And yet Eddie is the one who, now that the adrenaline has fallen from him, now that he can let someone else take over, now that Harrington doesn’t need him anymore, finds himself unable to look away. 

Because Steve is just a boy. And so is Eddie, who can feel Steve’s breath against his wrist. And maybe, out of the two of them, Eddie is the fragile one. The one about to break. 

“Blue, you with me?”

Steve nods. Doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t move. Eddie swallows, briefly looking back down at Wayne to see if he’s ready. His uncle nods, ready to catch Harrington should he go down, and Eddie turns back to the boy who’s smeared with his own blood.

“I’m gonna take off your seatbelt now, yeah?” he tells him, not entirely recognising his voice anymore. “That man out there, that is Wayne. My uncle. He’s safe. He’ll take care of you, okay?” 

“Safe,” Steve breathes, and that shouldn’t be the one thing he focuses on. It shouldn’t sound so unsure. So insecure. So hopeful, so relieved, so— Fucking earnest. 

Swallowing all these thoughts, all this desperation and all those questions, Eddie reaches over Steve, one hand still supporting his head and feeling the overheated skin of Harrington’s cheek against his palm, the hint of stubble and the crust of dried blood. As if in slow motion, not daring to make a wrong move and hurt him more than he already does, Eddie frees him the rest of the way, letting the seatbelt slide into its hold behind his shoulder. 

“Careful,” he says again, just to say anything, but he is careful, and his hold on Steve is steady. 

“‘M careful. Not gonna break, Eddie.” 

“I know.” But maybe I will. 

“Good. ‘Cause… Don’ wanna break.” 

Eddie smiles, despite everything. “You’re not gonna break, Blue. Wayne’ll catch you.” 

Harrington loses his focus then, his eyes glazing over, but the small smile on his lips widens. “Blue. ‘S nice.” 

Yeah, Eddie thinks. He kinda is. 

Somehow, miraculously, they get Harrington out of the van and into the trailer. He throws up halfway to the doorstep, and Eddie curses under his breath while Wayne talks quietly, asking him yes and no questions that Eddie can’t really hear through the ringing in his ears — a strange mix of fear and relief, a panic not quite over, but soothed by his uncle’s familiar voice; even if it’s not directed at him.

“Don’t worry about it, kid, the next rain’ll take care of that. Stop apologising.” 

It throws him then, rather suddenly and violently, watching Wayne supporting Harrington, watching the blood smeared boy with the swelling, angry red bruises in his face. Somehow it’s different, seeing him in his home. 

This was always a safe space. Always void of everything terrible. 

And now there’s a broken boy on his doorstep who’s not Eddie. 

He remembers the fear, the panic, the plea for no hospital, Eddie. Can’t go there.

Why not? You need a doctor—

Monsters. Only monsters there.

It paralyses him and he stays where he is, holding the door with an arm that’s heavy like lead, standing on legs that begin to go numb again. He watches, but not really, as Wayne sits Harrington down on the living room couch, between magazines and brochures and some of Eddie’s calculus notes from last night that he was searching for a sketch of a monster he was so certain he’d drawn in the margins a few weeks back. 

Now there’s blood on his calculus notes. And Eddie is helplessly keeping the door open as though he’s going to run away any second now. Letting in more trouble to join Harrington on his couch. 

He should… He should close the door. Help. Run. Disappear. 

“Ed,” Wayne calls, snapping him out of his stupor. “The first aid kit, please. A bottle of water. A clean, wet cloth. A blanket, too.” 

Wayne talks him through it, takes it one step at a time, has Eddie bring him one after the other like he knows how much he’s keeping his nephew together by keeping him on the brink of usefulness.

Soon, Wayne has everything he needs, taking care of Harrington and his wounds, keeping him awake and talking so much better than Eddie did, even making him smile here and there, hiding his wince when the motion pulls on his split lip or the huffed breath sends a jolt of pain through his rib that Eddie is absolutely certain must be broken with the way he holds himself — with the way he lets Wayne hold him up. 

Wayne is doing his thing and Eddie is hiding, gripping the kitchen counter like a vice, staring both unseeingly and hyper-vigilantly as exhaustion washes over him, dragging him under and draining him of more than adrenaline. He slumps against the cupboard behind him, rubbing at his face like that’ll make it all go away. 

It’s not right. It’s not. This is Eddie’s home, it’s supposed to be safe, it’s not… 

He breaks away, ripping his hands from the counter and all but stumbling outside, heaving a deep breath and giving in to the urge to cry. Tears spring to his eyes and he wipes them away angrily, because it’s dumb, it’s so stupid, it’s absolutely fucking insane that he should be so worked up when Harrington talked about dying earlier. 

These things don’t happen. They don’t! 

“Stop fucking crying,” Eddie grumbles, sniffling and wiping away more tears as he closes his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Get a grip, Munson, Jesus Christ, there’s no reason to cry you big fuckin’ baby.” 

Nobody’s there to contradict him. Nobody’s there to make it worse. So he lets his eyes sting for a while, lets his lips wobble, his jaw clenched shut, the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes, breathing deliberately. 

In. Hold. Out. Hold. 

He doesn’t even scream. Doesn’t punch the still bloody side of his van, doesn’t run into the woods and disappear into the void. 

He simply breathes. Tries not to think about boys dying in mall fires, and even less so about boys beaten and abandoned in boat houses.

Doesn’t think about fucking Hawkins in Bumfuck-Indiana and the cursed way it has, driving its people mad. 

Doesn’t think about, They said my brain is hurt, Eddie. Doesn’t think about the Monsters Harrington mentioned. Doesn’t think about Blue, doesn’t think about I’m tired, Eddie. Don’t wanna hurt anymore. 

Doesn’t think about blue, blue, blue. 

He’s shaking when he comes back inside. He’s shaking when Harrington meets his eyes, looking a little clearer now, the blood washed away and everything bandaged a lot better than Eddie managed. He’a bundled in Eddie’s blanket. It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong. 

Eddie can’t move, and neither does Steve. 

“Steve,” Wayne says, waiting until those eyes tear themselves away from Eddie and back to him, though Eddie sees them fill with such trepidation, he almost asks what’s wrong. “I won’t hear a no on this, and I won’t let you go home. I’m taking you to the hospital. Especially if you tell me your head was hurt like this before, more times than one.” 

“Three,” Blue breathes, a little dazed still. Not magically healed, not even from Wayne. Another thing that doesn’t feel right. 

“Three times,” Wayne says, nodding, like he’s encouraging Steve to continue. 

“But I don’t want a hospital.” Again with that tiny fucking voice. Like the Monsters are hiding under hospital beds. 

“I know, son,” Wayne sighs, tugging the blanket a little tighter around Steve, and Eddie’s eyes begin to sting again when he notices the tone Wayne uses. When he realises. When he remembers. 

”I want my mom.“ 

”I know, son. But she’s not coming. Your mama is gone, Ed, and this is your home now. Think we can make that work, hm? You and I?” 

Eddie had never felt so lost as he did then, clutching his blanket to his chest, burying his face in the wet fabric even as this man — his uncle — tugs it tighter around him. Like he is fine with Eddie wanting to hide as long as he doesn’t run away. 

He had shrugged, then, even though we wanted to shake his head, tell him no, tell him he wanted his mama. 

”I’m scared, uncle Wayne.” 

And Wayne had smiled a little, and nodded. “Then we do it scared, Eddie.”

Actually, Eddie feels like he never stopped doing it scared. 

And now there is Steve, who Eddie never believed knew what being scared felt like. It’s dumb, of course, because even Harrington is just a boy, but he was always untouchable to Eddie. They never talked. They never existed in the same space together, not in a good way and not in a bad way. Their worlds just never aligned, never collided, never coexisted. 

And now… 

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, okay? There’s a doctor, Doctor Clarke. Like— Yeah, like your science teacher, remember him? ‘S got a brother who’s just as much of a genius, and just as kind. He’ll take a look at you, yeah? Make sure your brain isn’t too hurt, clean your wounds, give you something for the pain. He won’t, uh. He won’t hurt you, kid. Whatever’s got you so scared, Dr Clarke will be nice to you. Especially when I’m there with ya, I’m an old pal of his. And I will be. Won’t let you outta my sight until you’re well enough to run away from me, you hear me, kid?” 

Eddie’s hands are hurting, his fingertips raw from where he’s been biting his nails while Wayne talks Blue through what’s going to happen — and he wonders, with the way Steve’s eyes are glued to Wayne, if he ever had anyone talking him through shit like this. 

“Okay,” Harrington breathes at last, still sounding way too small. “But. I’m…” 

“Scared anyway?” Wayne offers. Steve nods. You’re so blue, Stevie. “Then we do it scared anyway.”

And they do. Wayne goes to get the car so Steve won’t have to walk too far, leaving Eddie alone with him for a brief moment. 

He watches, from his place in the kitchen, how Steve’s face falls into a look of utter exhaustion and tiredness; the adrenaline washing from him just the same. Eddie wants to reach out. Wants to say something, break the spell of tension and silence and I know we don’t talk, but I’m glad you’re doing a little better. I’m glad you’ll go see a doctor. I’m glad you haven’t died, I guess. Do you really think you will? Are you really so scared of that? 

But Eddie keeps biting his nails, and Steve keeps his eyes closed, blanket around his shoulders. And they don’t talk. 

“Thank you.” 

Eddie perks up, not entirely sure he didn’t imagine the words — but Harrington moved slightly, his eyes still closed but his face now turned towards Eddie. 

“For, uh. This.” 

“I didn’t do shit, Blue,” Eddie says. “That was all Wayne. All I did was freak out, I promise.” 

Harrington shakes his head, though, slowly. “Mh-mm.” 

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, because there is no room for discussion here. They don’t talk. And he doesn’t want the bubble to burst with insecurity and sourness. 

“Thank you,” he says again, and he sounds final about it. It makes Eddie wonder what he’s like, really like, when he doesn’t consist of pain and nausea and disorientation. 

He has a feeling that, despite everything, despite Monsters under hospital beds and torture in boathouses and mall fires that kill teenagers, Blue Harrington might be someone good to talk to. Compassionate as shit, even when all he wants to do is pass out. 

“You’re welcome,” Eddie rasps, pretending that his eyes don’t sting.

He wraps his arms around his chest like he’s hugging himself, or like he’s holding himself back. From reaching out, from asking, from telling, from talking. 

Unwittingly, even with his eyes closed, Steve mirrors him, and Eddie wonders if he, too, it holding himself back, or just curling in on himself some more even though it must hurt, feeling so small. 

Maybe that’s what fear of death does to a nineteen year-old. It’s so fucked up. Eddie wants to scream again. 

Outside, he hears a car door fall shut just before Wayne reappears in the door, giving Eddie some kind of meaningful look that he wouldn’t mind deciphering on any other day, but today he fears he needs words. 

“I don’t know how long this’ll take. Will you be okay, Ed?” 

“Will I be— Yes! I’m not the one with the concussion, man, of course I’ll be—“ 

It’s a bluff, comes too fast, and Wayne sees right through it before Eddie even realises it, and he steps closer. A warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes stinging again. 

“You did good, kid. Everything will be fine. But it might take a while. It’s fine if you need to go somewhere, just… Don’t drive. Call Jeff if you need someone, just. Don’t do anything stupid. And don’t get behind the wheel. Deal?” 

Eddie swallows hard, hit by another desperate, aching wave of I wanna go back in time and skip this day. A wave of tired exhaustion and wondering, aimlessly, just who the fuck Steve Harrington really is. 

“Deal,” he says, and Wayne pulls him into a hug. 

Eddie follows them outside then, trailing behind them like a lost little puppy, helping Harrington into Wayne’s car. His movements are still slugged and a little disoriented, so Eddie decides to lean in again and fasten his seatbelt. 

“Careful,” he mumbles, allowing the boy a moment’s warning, a moment to adjust before the weight settles on his chest. 

Dejá-vù hits him and makes him pause, with Harrington staring at him again. 

“I’m careful,” he says, the corners of his mouth tugging into a little smile.

More lucid than earlier, and Eddie thinks it that which takes his breath away for a moment. 

“Not gonna break, Eddie.” 

“I know,” he says, still not moving back, instead reaching up to tighten the blanket around his shoulders even though the seatbelt is already there to hold it in place. “You’re not gonna break, Blue.” 

The smile on those lips is genuine now, gentle enough to not be ruined by the blood crusting them. 

“Thanks. Again.” And then, when Eddie finally pulls away to close the door and tell Wayne to drive safely, “I really do like that name.”

It soothes the urge to scream.

Eddie closes the door as gently as he can — which isn’t much, because the car is old and not exactly smooth. 

“I’ll see you later,” he tells Wayne. Promises. To stay out of trouble, to stick around, to not run away for a while again, to stay out of his car. 

Wayne nods, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Later, Ed.” 

And then they’re gone, and Eddie is untethered again. Wonders, for a few seconds every now and then if it really happened, if this is real. 

But it did. And it is. 

And after sitting on the steps for a while, having a smoke and staring at where Wayne’s car disappeared ten, twenty, forty minutes ago, Eddie heads inside. 

He has a phone call to make.

🤍🌷 tagging: @theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 (a thousand percent sure i missed some but oh well such is the 3am disease)

addendum 22 jan 24: onwards to part 3

[crobones]

so you want to know about my theory on thomas zane and alan wake! thanks so much for asking, I'm happy to share.

Y'ALL SEENT MOONKNIGHT? alright so follow me on this:

first and foremost, to clarify before I begin - the Dark Place and it's Dark Presence is real and exists

There is a Finnish auteur who comes to America with Barbara in the 1960's

when Barbara dies, the auteur experiences a split - the creation of a new alter - The Diver.

And in that very step, you realize I'm talking about DID. DISCLAIMER: Dissociative Identity Disorder is a very real psychological disorder that should be taken seriously and with respect, and those who have it (systems) deserve respect and privacy as well. This theory is in no way meant to mock or belittle or villainize any systems out there.

The Initial Split: the traumatic event(s) that happened to Alan (the name of the child before the split) occurred at a very young age, obviously. Before he developed a personality, according to studies on DID. And all we can gather on the parents are of what Zane and Alan have co-written about [Alan's] mother and a father he didn't know. It is stated that Linda spent most of [Alan's] life in psychiatric care for a yet-to-be-if-ever disclosed reason. I'm not saying she also had DID, as it is not inherited, but children of those with disorders can be more prone to developing their own.

it's possible a specific traumatic event that acted as the catalyst for the initial split involved drowning, or water somehow.

EITHERHOOT, back to the Child. DID can exist and not be realized until well into adulthood. So the Child goes about life, becomes a poet, a writer, a director. He creates the character of The Diver due to an intense fascination with the darkness of the worlds that can exist in deep, deep bodies of water (lol same) and a want to explore those worlds.

At this point in time - Before Barbara Dies - these are occupations that the host has - not separate alters. The Diver is a character, also not an alter (yet; I'll get there.)

But Cro, if Thomas is the host for the majority of this time, why is there no trace of him existing except for maybe a poem? Well, because Thomas Zane was not born as Thomas Zane. When the Child was born, he was named Alan Wake - at least on any and all legal documentation. Tom's wife and friends and colleagues all knew him as Tom because that's how "he" (the system) introduced themself to everyone. Tom Zane was the first Primary Host - the alter who Fronts, or uses the body and interacts with the outside world.

So let us begin again: Thomas Zane is a Finnish auteur who comes to America with his wife Barbara in the 1960's. He is the primary hosting alter of a system he possibly does not even know exists.

Barbara dies. Zane tries to bring her back with the power of The Dark Place. It fails. He carves out Barbara's heart. A split happens. The Diver emerges.

He is an Emotional Protector, but it's also likely he is a Fragment Alter, as well as a Fictive - an alter that doesn't fully develop their own unique attributes; and Fictive because he is based on a character Tom had already created. At least to start.

Tom is still the host. He has control. He and Barbara have fallen into the Dark Place.

the Dark Presence begins to try to manipulate The Diver. Tom, who is still the primary host and while trying to maintain the health of the body and fend off corruption, wants to defend The Diver. To him, The Diver is the Light, the Protector, the one tasked with processing the loss of Barbara. Because even now, the Diver is still a part of Tom. A Fragment. The Diver needs Tom to complete him, and so the Diver refers to himself as Tom as well.

But Tom is a poet, and he knows that with any Light, there also comes a Darkness. And so, to save himself and to save the Diver, Tom writes. He doesn't necessarily know that he's having any effect on reality. The way for an artist to vent emotions like fear and confusion is to create. And he would never truly make "himself" the main character - he's an auteur, he would never be so gouche. So he changes a few key aspects.

He doesn't mean for it to happen. He didn't know the extent of those inside the system, or even that they truly existed within him at all. But he writes a character - a siphon for the darkness, really. A sacrifice to the Dark Presence, as if to appease it.

Now, it is well established that writing in the Dark Presence less so fully creates something from nothing, but really just nudges things in one direction or the other.

There's a name that comes to mind - something that people used to call him when he was younger, and it always confused him. He writes a character named Alan.

Now, Zane is not so cruel as to make Alan simply a sheep led to the slaughter. and darkness itself is not something necessarily evil, per se. Within himself is a fear and a want to leave this place. Writing is escapism. It is self-preservation. Alan can be a good man that is struggling with his own devils, just as Zane deals with the Darkness he feels within himself. Alan just wants to leave.

And so Alan has an antagonist. Inspired by The Diver, the Champion of Light within himself, Tom gives unto Alan his own Herald of Darkness. He can't decide on a name for this individual. It doesn't come to him as easily as the Diver or Alan did. He gives it a few tries, but redacts all of it. In the end, and only in his mind, he refers to this devil as Mr. Scratch, but really "scratch" is just a concept that he can't think of a word for.

And so, within this Darkness, the only true way to escape that we know of is to make a sacrifice. Zane can't sacrifice Barbara, she's already dead. The Darkness had already taken her body and he knows that now. He refuses to sacrifice The Diver or Alan - they feel like a part of him.

But Mr. Scratch is just as much a part of him as the rest of the system. Zane figures he is willing to sacrifice that part of himself - the evil within.

So into the Dark Place Mr. Scratch is sent. Is it enough? Can he finally get out?

Well, while every alter in the system has a level of agency, just as The Diver is a Fragment of Zane, Scratch was really a Fragment of Alan. Even Zane established that much within his own writing. So really, the sacrifice was Alan's to make. It was a battle Alan had been fighting, not Zane.

So Alan gets out. The alters are of a system, but while Alan is Hosting, it could be said that the Alters are left in the Dark Place. Time and space don't work there as they really should, so chances are, the System could persist without a physical body.

It's not a lake, it's an ocean. Perhaps Alan emerges from he Dark Place in Cauldron Lake and simply doesn't remember traveling across the country. Zane "wrote himself out of reality" and so that could very well effect Alan's memories. It could be possible he emerges directly into New York City - where Zane had based the character's place of birth. Regardless, Alan get's to New York and attempts to live a normal and healthy life.

When Alan escapes the Dark Place, it's probably 1999, or some time close. The internet both exists but isn't infallible. Documents can be "replicated" if lost. The country is having a wild time, it wouldn't be impossible for a 33 year old man to emerge from nothingness. So what if he doesn't have any ID on him, maybe he was houseless for a time.

Because Zane "wrote" Alan's background, and it is common for someone to write what they know, Alan's life has a lot of similarities to Zane's. Alan "knows" his past. Doesn't remember any Darkness, though. Don't know what you're talking about.

Alice hears about the program and brings Alan to Bright Falls.

Within the overlap, the System can reconnect. But Alan remembers nothing about any of it. Doesn't remember the System, the town, the lake, or the Darkness. But everything and everyone remembers him very well.

And, while Scratch was sacrificed to the Darkness, well. That doesn't necessarily mean he died!

side theories!

The System's own mind place was just the writer's cabin, but it was possessed and corrupted by the darkness.

Mr. Hatch and Mr. Door are not necessarily the same. Mr. Hatch exists in reality, but perhaps Mr. Door is an Introject Alter who is also the Gatekeeper. Interesting idea, but I doubt it's likelihood.

Mr. Scratch, as he never truly "died" or left the system but had been made to succumb to it, is a Misguided Protector. He wants to protect the system from the Darkness in theory, but really he wants to prevent the circumstances that brought them to the Darkness instead. And so, Mr. Scratch thinks that they can't lose another love of their life if he kills her!

NOTE: Mr. Scratch was not so "evil" in the beginning, but he became so when sacrificed to the Darkness. But as each alter has a level of individuality and agency, while the Darkness managed to possess him, it has not managed to possess any other alter.

Linda Wake is the system's mom and birth mother. But when Tom wrote Linda giving Alan the switch, that was based on a memory of her giving the system the gift as a child. who was fronting at the time is unknown. Perhaps Alan and Tom co-fronted parts of their childhood, but Tom was the primary, as Alan is more introverted.

Any and all times Alan exhibited "insanity", that was fully induced by the Darkness. People with DID and other mental disorders do not always exhibit such symptoms as he had, if ever. Each case is unique.

The Darkness did not cause the trauma that produced the System's DID in this theory. Tom/Alan lived a life without any paranatural influence until moving to Bright Falls, though it is likely he was a parautilitarian. He is a partially a victim to the darkness, but more importantly, he is the hero of his own story.

(The system as a collective is the hero. Maybe Lan and Tom have their own paranatural abilities - Alan's involving writing and Tom's being creating movies.) But within the system is also their own enemy.)

If you've ever read the graphic novel The Wicked + The Divine and like the involvement of the gods of old and Odin, Tor, Ahti, and the like, I guess i could kinda see Tom/Alan as a "vessel"(?) for Loki. Complicated individual who means well most of the time, but has a dark side, and every interpetation of Loki depends on the perspective of the audience, which is a heavy theme in the game.

Really, i just love the idea that he's not involved in the ongoing godhood of those around him at all. He doesn't have the name of a Norse god - he's just some fuckin bloke. His wife brought him someplace and he got sucked into a fucked up scenario. Maybe The Dark Place is fucking Jotunheim and that's why Saga, and Tor, and Odin and everyone is drawn to it. They are there to protect the outside world from Jotunheim. Ahti isn't part of the same pantheon, but he is a god of water, so he's just chilling as the innocent bystander - though he has an investment of course. And then a mortal accidentally walked into their bullshit. But since he's a mortal and a creator of things, he is held in high regard. Gods really only have as much power as their worshippers give them in their stories.

The Dark Place could be Jotunheim, and maybe each resonance in the Remedy Universe is a jötun or the jötun were based on what resonance are individually or idk I could go on. reality influencing art influencing life influencing art inf- [gun shots]...

I'm tired.

(edit: reading back I initially said Barbara's death created Mr. Scratch. the entire situation with Barbara and his carving out her heart in my mind actually created the Diver, I meant to say. Scratch came later.)

(second edit: grammar and spelling)

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

The Betrayer | Chapter Eight: Where We Begin

Oh, you were in for it now.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Violence, Blood, Minor Character Death

Notes: Hey guys! I know it's been a full month since I last posted. The holidays were very busy, and I spent the last two weeks trying to write this chapter. It was initially going to be a really massive one (I'm talking roughly 20k words), but I decided to split it in half because it was just taking too long to write it. Also, university starts up again next week for me, so it might be a struggle to finish the second half as soon as I'd like. This just felt like a better option, and I really like how this chapter ends anyway, so I'm happy with it! Hope y'all don't mind having two chapters of flashbacks because I felt it was important to set up Lucky's history in S.T.A.R.S. to drive home just how hard Wesker's betrayal really was for her. Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

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March 15, 1996; R.P.D.

It was a slow day at the station, something you always hated. 

Three of your coworkers in the east office were out with the flu, including your partner, Kevin. That left you trapped at your desk, filling out report after boring report while you waited around, almost hoping for some kind of incident so you could get out onto the street.

No such luck.

Instead, Arthur sidled up to you as you hunched over your paperwork, the officer looking sheepish when you glanced his way. “Hey, would you be a lifesaver and take these reports to the west office? I have a meeting in a few minutes, and I’m already gonna be late as is.”

You groaned as you stretched back in your chair, eyes narrowing as you took in the massive stack of papers in his hands. “Seriously, man?”

He gave you a hopeful smile. “Please? I swear I’ll pay you back.”

You looked down at your desk, considering your own pile of paperwork, and sighed. You did want a break. This was a great chance to stretch your legs.

“Fine, but you owe me a sandwich from Grill 13 for lunch tomorrow, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You stood and begrudgingly took the sizable stack from Arthur’s arms, holding it to your chest as you bid him goodbye and headed for the opposite side of the building. 

You stopped at the ramp that led to the west office entrance, deciding you were going to take the opportunity to make a detour instead of going straight there, the paperwork in your grasp the perfect excuse in case someone asked what you were doing. 

Maybe now you could finally check out the new S.T.A.R.S. office upstairs.

Construction had been ongoing for the last few weeks to outfit the room with whatever the new special forces team needed. It was once the station’s gym, but no one was really upset when they discovered it would be moved to a larger space. In fact, many officers (including yourself) had been complaining for years that the gym was far too small for the ever-growing police department.

From those you knew that snuck a peek of the new and improved room, they had built a private office, set up an entire wall of radio equipment, and–what you were most intrigued by–created their own armory. 

You made it to the hallway where the office in question was located, meandering down past the locker rooms. You glanced at the vending machines against the wall, wondering idly if you should grab a snack after this little adventure was over.

You reached the door, peering down both ends of the corridor to make sure the coast was clear before you opened it and walked inside. 

You weren’t sure what you expected. It looked exactly like you had been told it did.

The dispatch console was massive and pretty high-tech, though you supposed that would have to be the case for a special tactics force. 

As you swept your gaze over the room, you found yourself to be a little jealous of the computer monitors that sat on every desk, wishing you could type up your reports instead of cramping your fingers with handwriting.

You then laid your eyes on the armory, which was completely empty. You could only imagine the kind of weapons that would be stored there once the team had actually been formed.

Once satisfied with your snooping in the main room, you approached the private office, thinking back to what you learned about the recently instated captain.

Wesker, you believed his name was. 

He was new to the R.P.D., which shocked everyone when he was picked before Marini to be given charge over S.T.A.R.S. 

Gossip claimed that he was a tall, menacing-looking man, his eyes always hidden behind his sunglasses. He never smiled–or so you heard–and spoke with a very snide and commanding voice.

“Maybe he’s a lizard man,” David said as the two of you and Rita chatted in the break room. “They say higher-ups usually are.”

You and Rita shared an amused look at your coworker’s words, who always seemed to have a conspiracy for everything.

“I feel like he’d have to be a little higher up than that for the lizard people to believe it was worth the trouble, dontcha think?” you questioned with a laugh.

“Maybe Irons is the real lizard man,” Rita joked, whispering behind her hand. 

“I’m just saying, the guy seems a little suspicious,” David replied, defensive.

You snorted. “You say that about everyone, Ford.” 

You honestly felt sorry for the guy, considering he hadn’t even officially started working here yet, and already the rumor mill was turning. He probably had to walk a very thin line to maintain respect. 

You were well aware that some of your fellow officers would take the first opportunity to try and knock down any new hires a peg, like some kind of frat hazing.

Bunch of dogs. 

You rolled your eyes at the thought as you sat in the large, plush chair behind the captain’s desk, placing the stack of papers upon the wooden surface rather haphazardly. 

Must be a lot of responsibility to be captain, you mused, kicking your feet up on the desk and leaning back. But man, the perks of getting this chair alone are worth it.

You knew you should get back on task, but it was difficult to push yourself out of the comfortable position.

“I could get used to this,” you said aloud to yourself, closing your eyes for a moment, relaxed.

“I see someone’s made herself at home.” 

You gasped at the deep voice that penetrated through your daydreaming, throwing your legs off the desk and sending the papers sitting on the edge flying to the floor. 

“You scared me!” you exclaimed as you dropped to your knees and started picking up the reports, not even bothering to look at the man standing in the doorway. 

“Well, it’s not every day you find a stranger getting comfortable at your desk,” he admonished as he drew closer.

“Your… desk..?” Your eyes widened before shooting up to the man in front of you, met with your own reflection in his dark shades. “Captain Wesker?”

“How astute,” he replied sardonically as he appraised you. “And you are?”

You turned your attention back to the scattered papers to avoid his piercing gaze that you could feel even through his glasses as you offered him your name.

“You’re a patrol officer, aren’t you? What are you doing up here? Not slacking off, I hope.”

You sighed, feeling a bit embarrassed that you were caught. “Not slacking off, per se. I was asked to bring these reports to the west office and decided to take a little… detour. Wanted to check out the S.T.A.R.S. headquarters before it was in full use, you know?”

He hummed in response and–to your surprise–knelt down across from you to help you in your endeavor, his voice sounding amused as he inquired, “Well, is my personal office to your liking?”

Your eyes snapped back to his face at his teasing, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But that’s not what really held your attention, no.

His shades slid slightly down his nose as he assessed you, revealing the most dazzling pair of blue eyes you’d ever seen, like two sapphires set in stone.

You felt breathless looking at him, really taking in how handsome the man was.

“Cat got your tongue, Officer?” he asked as he passed over the papers in his grasp.

You huffed out a bashful laugh, feeling your cheeks redden as you took the reports from him. “Sorry. To answer your previous question, yes. Probably the most comfortable office chair I’ve ever sat on.”

“Ah, good to know,” he replied as he stood to his full height, adjusting his sunglasses so that they covered those beautiful eyes once more, to your displeasure.

You stood as well, having gathered all the papers. “You haven’t used your desk yet?”

“Hadn’t had the chance, I’m afraid. I technically don’t start until Monday, but I wanted to make sure everything was in working order,” he explained as he stroked a finger over the desk, lifting it to his face to inspect the level of dust that had settled on the relatively new piece of furniture before turning back to face you. 

“I’m so sorry, Captain Wesker. I didn’t even think about–”

He waved his hand dismissively. “No need to fret, my dear, I’m only pleased to hear it’s to your standards.”

If you were flushed before, you must look like a tomato now. The term of endearment made your heart skip a beat. 

You managed to calm yourself down, wondering why you were acting like this, and responded, “Well, I should really get back to work.”

“I won’t stop you,” he said as he moved out of your way, allowing you to exit the small office.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Captain,” you told him earnestly, holding out your hand for him to shake, your other one grasping the stack of reports tightly to avoid any more mishaps.

He took your hand in his larger one, the grip firm, though not crushing. “Likewise.”

You turned to leave but stopped in your tracks, glancing over your shoulder at him with an abashed smile. “You won’t tell my superiors about this, right? I’m sure I’ll get reamed if they knew I was taking the scenic route.”

He folded his arms across his chest and that ghost of a smirk appeared once more. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

You nodded, appreciative, and hurried out of the room, something you hadn’t felt in a long time fluttering in your stomach.

***

May 7, 1996; R.P.D. 

It was unusually cold for a May morning. You rubbed your arms to warm yourself since you didn’t think to grab a jacket before leaving your apartment.

You paused, quirking a brow when you heard Kevin humming to himself beside you as he cheerfully scribbled on a piece of paper.

“I know for a fact that isn’t a report you’re filling out so happily. What is it?” you questioned suspiciously.

“Oh nothing, really,” he replied with a shrug before fixing you with an impish smile you knew far too well. “Just getting around to applying to S.T.A.R.S., is all.” 

“Didn’t you pick up that form like, a month ago?” 

He rolled his eyes. “So what? I’m doing it now. The team is the R.P.D.’s baby anyway. Not like it’s going anywhere.”

“Well, I’m rooting for you to get in, Kev,” you told him, clapping him on the back.

“You could apply too, you know.” 

There it was, the typical Kevin way of not-so-subtly hinting at something he wanted from you without ever straight up saying it. Something that drove you crazy during your relationship. Actually, it still drove you crazy, if you were honest.

You sighed, this being the umpteenth time he’s brought up the two of you joining S.T.A.R.S. together.

Sure, the team piqued your interest, especially all of the new recruits, but you had no real desire to join it yourself. You were pretty happy with your current position. Besides, you cringed every time you thought of your one and only interaction with their esteemed and intimidating captain, where you embarrassed yourself completely. 

“I already told you, Kev, I’m not interested.”

“I know, I know,” he replied as he stood from his chair. “I’m gonna grab a coffee from the break room. Be right back.”

You waved him off, a part of you feeling a little guilty for being so adamantly against applying. Neither of you wanted to separate as partners, but you knew he’d make fun of you if you told him why you weren’t keen on joining the special tactics force.

You were certain your application would be tossed immediately anyway, so why bother?

You shook your head to clear your thoughts and tried to focus on finishing the report that you had started earlier. 

That is, until you felt a presence looming behind you.

You assumed that it was Kevin, turning around in your seat to tell him off for hovering again, but the words died on your tongue when you found yourself staring at Captain Wesker instead.

“Captain? What are you doing here?” you questioned, more than a little confused.

“I’ve come here to make a suggestion,” he replied simply. “You should apply for S.T.A.R.S.”

“I–what?” you asked dumbly.

“I’ve seen your work history here at the R.P.D. You’ve proven yourself to be loyal, competent, and hardworking,” he explained, leaning down slightly to place the application form in front of you before looking at you directly. “Or hardworking until you ‘take a detour’, I should say.”

You’ve never felt so bewildered by someone–or so exposed by their gaze. 

You thought you utterly humiliated yourself in front of him, and yet he was practically offering you a job? He must have looked into you after your first meeting, but you couldn’t fathom what about you would garner the attention.

“Oh, sir, I’m not sure. I’m pretty content with where I’m at right now,” you said, repeating what you’d been telling Kevin for weeks. You were now more conflicted in making this decision, but it felt like the better option. Or the safer one.

His brow twitched ever-so-slightly at your response, but he replied coolly, “The choice is yours but do reconsider. It would be a great opportunity for you. A woman of your caliber will surely bore of your current station before too long.”

With that, the man turned and strode out of the room. 

You sat there for a moment, trying to wrap your brain around the interaction.

“I’m back,” Kevin announced as he plopped into his seat. 

When you didn’t immediately respond, he glanced over, seeing the application sitting on your desk. 

“What the hell is that?” he demanded. “Did you lie to me about not wanting to apply?”

You snapped out of your reverie at the accusation. “I didn’t lie! Captain Wesker gave it to me just now.” 

“As if.” 

You sighed before caving and telling Keven about your first meeting with the captain weeks ago, and what he just said to you a few moments prior.

It seemed your partner finally believed you as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, shit. Are you really not gonna join? He was right when he said it would be a great opportunity, and you apparently made a good impression somehow.”

You looked down at the form, tracing your finger over the S.T.A.R.S. emblem at the top of the first page, considering. 

The biggest reason you didn’t want to apply was your fear that Wesker thought you were a lazy idiot, but the man himself just claimed otherwise.

And you would be lying to yourself if you said the prospect of getting closer to the enigmatic captain didn’t excite you. 

He was just so… mysterious.

It must have been a curse, then, that you always loved a good mystery.

You tapped your nail on the application, feeling suddenly sure of yourself.

“I think I’ve changed my mind.”

***

May 23, 1996; R.P.D.

You stood in front of the door to the S.T.A.R.S. office once more, staring at it instead of just opening it up and entering like you knew you should. 

You had always been riddled with anxiety when it came to big changes like this, but for some reason, this one seemed far more life-altering than most you’ve dealt with in the past.

Shortly after Wesker’s “suggestion”, you and Kevin had filled out your applications to the special tactics team together.

“Good luck, partner,” Kevin said as the two of you went to turn in your forms.

You glanced over to him and he held up his little finger to you, which you wrapped tightly with your own. Something you always did to show solidarity.

“Good luck, Kev,” you responded, hoping for the best, for both of you.

Kevin had been severely disappointed when he discovered that your application had been accepted and his wasn’t. He even spent the rest of the evening nursing a drink and complaining to anyone who was within earshot at J’s Bar.

You felt guilty about it, especially knowing that you only recently changed your mind about joining S.T.A.R.S. And despite Kevin’s constant reassurances that you would remain friends even if you were no longer partners, it did little to quell the heartbreak of knowing the two of you would never go on patrol together again, or sit next to each other at your desks and goof off between half-finished reports. 

The realization of that almost made you rescind your application altogether, to which Kevin hastily told you it would be good for you and that he wasn’t going anywhere if you got the job.

“Who else would beat me at darts?” he had joked, patting your head like a dog.

You sniffled, trying not to let the tears building up in your eyes escape as you laughed. “Everyone this side of town, Ryman. You suck at them.”

The man usually struggled to stay serious, something you once couldn’t stand but now found endearing. However, he managed to give your shoulder a comforting squeeze and said with the most sincere tone you’ve ever heard from him, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Despite knowing you’d miss Kevin as your partner (as well as your other office mates), and the anxiety of such a decision, you were excited.

You’d never escape the grueling paperwork, but the missions would be far more interesting, and you were keen on getting to know the other members of the team. They were the best of the best, and you could learn a thing or two.

Of course, you still had to survive your interview with the captain himself, which somehow made you more nervous than the unsettling one you underwent with Chief Irons when you were fresh-faced from the police academy. You still shivered every time you thought about the old perv and how he had raked his eyes over you like a piece of meat. 

Fortunately, though, the interview went well.

The captain was as cool and collected as you now expected him to be, seeming to listen intently as you answered his questions to the best of your ability. You were confident in your skills, but only being able to see your own reflection in his shades and incapable of deciphering his tone made you sweat. 

“Well,” he said as you answered his final question, “I believe that concludes the interview.” 

You stood up as he did, your hands twiddling in front of you. “So? How’d I do?”

He offered a small smile at that, escorting you to his door. “It would do you well to be more stoic. You have a habit of showing your every emotion on your face.”

You stiffened at that, turning to face him with wide eyes, certain that you screwed yourself out of the job before you even had the chance to work it.

Before he opened the office door, he looked down at you. “You start first thing tomorrow. See you then.”

You had sputtered out a thanks, rushing out of the room and into the hallway so you could catch your breath.

You couldn’t believe it.

You made the team.

Kevin congratulated you when you told him, and he offered to take you out for a couple drinks in celebration. You decided to decline, not wanting to overdo it and show up the first day on the job with a hangover. He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t pester.

You hardly slept that night, rehearsing introductions in hopes you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself (more than you already had).

And now here you were, standing in front of the S.T.A.R.S. office. 

You straightened your spine and the box of your belongings from downstairs that was tucked under your arm before walking into the room.

Your initial plan of action was to meet with the captain, but you could see he was talking to someone in his office. Your attempt to remain self-assured faltered a bit as you stood there uselessly, not sure if you should wait by the door or come back later. 

“Hey, can I help you?” you heard a voice say. 

You turned to find a beautiful young woman walking up to you, her brown hair in a short bob and her blue eyes regarding you with light curiosity.

You introduced yourself by name, offering her your free hand to shake. 

“Oh, you’re the new recruit, aren’t you? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jill Valentine. Come here, I’ll show you your desk.” She released your hand from hers, turning and leading you further into the room. She placed her fingers on a chair that was pushed under a desk that sat in the middle of the office. “You’re here. I’m right behind you.”

You sat the box of your things on the surface of your new space, awkwardly trying to avoid crushing the keyboard in the process. As you looked up from the action, a gaggle of inquisitive men crowded around you. 

“Who are you?” one of them asked, taking in your civilian clothing. You had turned in your old uniform before arriving at the office and had yet to be outfitted for your new one. 

“She’s the new member,” Marini informed them, walking up behind the group. You didn’t know the vice-captain personally, but you knew of him. The surrounding men parted so he could give you a firm handshake. “Welcome to the team. We’re glad to have you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m glad to be here.”

He nodded before leaving, the group converging once more to greet you. You gave out one handshake after another, your new team members leaving to sit at their own desks after introducing themselves.

The two men that remained didn't seem to be in a rush to leave as they considered you.

One of them had a red bandana tied around his head and saluted you with a smile. “Joseph Frost.”

“Forest Speyer,” the other said, sporting a brunet mullet.

“Nice to meet you,” you responded, shaking their hands like the others. 

“It’s great to finally have an actual chick working with us,” Forest added. “Jill doesn’t count.”

“Up yours, Speyer,” The woman retorted with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t mind these two. They’re the resident clowns.”

Joseph reached out to squeeze her nose, making a honking noise as she swatted his hand away.

“In all seriousness, it’s nice to have another woman on the team. Feels like I’m drowning in testosterone everyday,” Jill told you in amused exasperation.

You scoffed in agreement, leaning against your desk and crossing your arms over your chest. “I know what you mean. The department’s a bit of a sausage fest.”

“Hey, sausage is delicious!” Joseph defended.

Forest, who had been leaning on his friend, was quick to wrap his arm around his neck and give him a noogie. “You would know, wouldn’t you, Frost?”

“Okay, wait a minute!” Joseph said, trying to pull Forest off of him. “I didn’t mean it like that, man!” 

You laughed as the friends roughhoused, Jill smiling at you warmly.

“You guys wrestling without me?” another man asked as he approached the four of you. He was tall, muscular, and incredibly handsome, his brown eyes falling on you as Forest let go of Joseph. “You lost, sweetheart? I could escort you to the reception desk. Or better yet, out to dinner.” 

You were stunned by such a bold flirtation, only able to narrow your eyes at the large man. 

“Uh, Chris–” Jill started.

“I’d prefer you didn’t harass the new hire, Redfield,” Captain Wesker interrupted as he seemingly appeared out of thin air, disdain seeping from his tone at his subordinate’s terrible pick-up line. 

“New hire?” the other man questioned before glancing back at you, looking sheepish. “Shit, I’m sorry about that. I’m Chris Redfield, by the way.”

You had heard that name quite a bit since he was recruited a few weeks prior. The receptionists always gossiped about how handsome and charming he was. You weren’t sure if “charming” was the right word for it, now that you finally met him. “Cheeseball” seemed more suitable.

You smiled, feeling forgiving as you shook his hand and gave him your name in turn. “No worries, Redfield. Talk to me like that again, though, and I’ll have to kick your ass.” 

In your peripheral vision, you could swear you saw a smirk on Wesker’s face at your words. It was gone when you looked his way.

“No need for that. I’ll be on my best behavior. Promise,” Chris replied with a chuckle and a good-natured wink. 

“Glad to see introductions are over,” Wesker said, now fully facing you. “I have a meeting with the chief soon, but you and I have some things to discuss. When I return, I want you to come to my office. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good,” was all he declared before turning and striding out of the room. 

Once the door closed behind him, you pivoted toward your new teammates, whispering, “Is he… usually that standoffish?”

The group nodded in response. 

“He’s a good leader, don’t get me wrong,” Chris told you. “He can be a hardass sometimes, but he’s fair. Just kind of–I don't know–reserved, I guess.”

“Hm,” you responded, staring at the office door in thought.

You wondered if maybe you could get closer to him than the others, though you weren’t sure how to do that. Or even why. Sure, he was handsome, but he was your boss. Nothing good would come from feeding the flames of this little crush you somehow managed to form in the minimal interactions you had with him. 

This was a dangerous game, and you knew you shouldn’t play it.

The image of those blue eyes danced in your mind anyway. 

You sat down at your desk, half listening to your teammates as they talked and joked around, deciding to put away your things while you waited for the captain to return.

When you were finished, you glanced around, freezing when you realized you could see directly into Wesker’s office. The two of you would be able to look right at each other when the blinds were pulled up.

“Was I assigned this desk, do you know?” you asked the others.

“Yeah, Wesker picked it. Why?” Jill questioned.

You felt heat creeping up your neck.

Surely, that wasn’t on purpose, right? It had to be some coincidence that he put you within sight of his office. That, or maybe he was keeping a close eye on you to make sure you didn’t fuck up.

Either way, you felt a thrill of both exhilaration and apprehension run through you all at once, knowing you’d easily be able to sneak a glance at him whenever you wanted.

God, you were so juvenile. 

“No reason,” you lied, trying to get a hold of yourself. 

The job was going to be interesting, to say the least.

***

August 6, 1996; R.P.D.

The days bled into weeks.

The team seemed to accept you into the fold with ease, your experience in the force something they respected despite your lack of the more elite training a majority of them had received during their time in the military. 

That was something that Wesker and Marini would rectify, however, having you spend time with each member of the team to learn their trade. 

They wanted you to be their everyman, someone who could fill any role in case someone was unavailable and their particular expertise was required. But what they needed most was a medic, and that was the first thing you were trained in upon your official induction to S.T.A.R.S.

You had always been a quick study, building up your skills rapidly. You found yourself making fast friendships with your teammates, immediately falling into stride while on missions.

The constant learning, the fighting, the delicious adrenaline of a dangerous assignment well done–it sang in your veins. You had enjoyed your time as a patrol officer and missed working with Kevin and the others, but this team felt like home. 

And even with the guilt you still felt for leaving Kevin behind, your friendship was steadfast like he had promised, telling you he’d just apply again. You managed to convince him to go out bar-hopping with some of the team and it didn't even end in disaster, to your relief. 

If you were content before, you were positively radiant with joy now, feeling more energetic and ready to take on the world than you had in years. 

Even your father, who never really accepted your desire to be on the force despite his military background, could see you were happy and commented on it. He told you he was proud of you, something you’d rarely heard from his mouth. It brought you to tears to hear it.

Maybe this was your calling.

It didn’t help that the captain took note of your aptitude, and although rare, his praise was something you started to yearn for. It was honestly pathetic, you were well aware, but you couldn’t stop the swell of self-satisfaction you felt when he told you how good of a job you were doing.

You’d be lying if you said that his approval wasn’t one of the reasons you tried so hard, but no one had to know. So you let yourself secretly bask in the occasional attention.

You had to admit, though, to your own chagrin, that your crush on your superior was getting a little out of control. The things he did had you going crazy, second-guessing his intentions with every interaction.

It started with him gripping your shoulder ever-so-lightly as he peered over it to check your report progress, which had you stiffening like a board in your seat.

“Good work,” he had said, the words making your heart skip a beat before he moved away like nothing happened. 

And then came the light touches, like a tap against your arm to get your attention, or brushing your fingers with his own as you handed something over to him. 

It was all innocent enough. You could pass it off as incidental, or as your growing desperation for his returning affection making you imagine he could have any real interest in you beyond your position on the team. 

You’d never been good at deciphering signals like that anyway. Kevin had to speak quite plainly for you to realize he liked you as more than a friend.

But then you’d find yourself glancing every so often into Wesker’s office to discover he was already looking at you. You were quick to avert your gaze, but you could still feel the heat of his stare long after your eyes had fallen back to your desk.

It made you wonder.

“We still on for Friday?” Chris asked you, pulling you from your daydreaming.

You smiled as your head fell to the side of your chair to look at the man—who was becoming one of your closest friends in record time—and remembered your plans for the weekend.

He was shocked you had never ridden on a motorcycle before and was adamant he take you on a ride one day. You told him Friday evenings were preferable so that you didn’t have to rush back home to get ready for work the next morning.

You informed him it wasn’t a date, however, and he had rolled his eyes.

“If it was a real date, you’d know,” he said, a mirthful gleam in his gaze.

“I thought you said you’d behave, Redfield,” you teased, smacking his arm at the implication. 

“Well, I have, haven’t I?”

“And you better keep it that way.”

He looked at you expectantly and you could laugh at the expression on his face. He was awfully cute for such a buff guy. Like a teddy bear.

“Sure are,” you replied finally, offering a wink and a finger gun.

“Good, cos there’s this great burger joint I found a few towns over. You’ll love it.” 

“Greasy food and a long drive? You’re speaking my language, Redfield.”

“What can I say? You seem the type.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, laughing.

He shrugged. “Just a woman of simple pleasures, I guess.” 

You scoffed in mock defense. “My pleasures can be plenty extravagant, I’ll have you know.”

“I don’t know, but you can show me.” 

Your mouth dropped at his sheer audacity and he gave you a shit-eating grin. 

You reached over and flicked his nose as hard as you could, making him flinch backward, to your satisfaction. 

“Can you guys stop flirting while I’m trying to work?” Kenneth said from a few desks over. 

“Hey, that’s all on him, okay?” you defended, standing up.

“Where are you going?” Chris asked, brow raised. “I didn’t offend you that badly, did I?”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Redfield. I’m just gonna grab a coffee. Try not to cry too hard when I leave.” 

He shook his head at you, turning back to his desk as you waved, backing out of the office. 

It was a bit quiet today, as several of the S.T.A.R.S. members were on an assignment. 

You’d normally prefer to be out there with them, but goofing off with Chris always made doing paperwork more bearable. You still worried about your other teammates, though, a little tense as you awaited their updates over the radio and hopeful return to the R.P.D. 

You made your way casually to the break room, which was usually uninhabited this time of the morning. You liked it that way, making it easy for you to enjoy a moment of peace as you sipped on your hot beverage in comfortable silence.

You put on a fresh pot, leaning idly against the counter as you waited, wondering what your team was up to at that very moment.

Finally, the coffee was brewed, and you were quick to make up your drink, perching on the counter this time, your legs dangling. You technically weren’t supposed to be sitting there, something Marvin got onto you for several times in the past. But the room was empty, so you didn’t care.

After a couple of minutes, you found your mind wandering back to your captain, something it often did these days. 

You liked to imagine taking off his sunglasses fully to really display his features. You thought about what his hair looked like when it wasn’t slicked back, how it would feel between your fingers. You bit your lip as you envisioned what he looked like under his uniform, what it would be like to run your hands down his taut abs, and then lower.

Your brain started to enter certified gutter territory when the door to the break room suddenly opened, and you were met with an all too familiar figure striding towards you. 

Speak of the devil.

You could feel your cheeks redden as you looked upon Wesker himself, cursing your mind for the dirty thoughts you were just ruminating on seconds ago.

He greeted you coolly as he approached you, pouring himself a cup.

“Captain,” you offered in return. “How was the meeting with the chief?”

He frowned slightly, placing the cup on the countertop, his tone laced with a hint of vitriol, “About as well as usual.”

“That bad, huh?” you tried to joke, unsure of where to go from there.

That always seemed to be the case with the captain. You would attempt to conversate with him, maybe even get to know him, and he would deflect or give the most minimal or cryptic response. 

But sometimes… Sometimes your probing worked and he would open up a little bit.

“Mm,” was his only reply.

Guess today wasn’t one of those days.

You deflated at that, feeling awkward as you took a sip of your drink, looking away from him.

Thinking that was it, you were shocked when he moved closer, standing directly in front of you before leaning forward. 

You short-circuited as his face neared yours, and your breath hitched at the thought of him kissing you right then and there.

Your lips parted as you stared at him, waiting for him to make a move.

Before you knew it, he pulled back, a stirring straw between his fingers.

“Just needed this,” he informed you.

You felt embarrassed at your reaction, but you could have sworn you saw a knowing smirk grace his lips before he grabbed his cup and left the room.

You shook your head, pressing your hand over your heart as you tried to calm it.

But as you jumped off the counter, ready to get back to work, a realization struck you.

He never added sugar or cream. What was there to stir?

This man, you thought, laughing airily to yourself. He’s gonna be the death of me.

***

September 13, 1996; R.P.D.

“You fight like a girl,” Chris taunted as the two of you circled each other, your fists raised and ready to strike.

“Oh, we’re going that route, are we? Trying to piss me off enough to lose my cool?” you replied with a sneer. “Dirty trick, Redfield.” 

You were both drenched in sweat, having been at this for several minutes. 

You were good at fighting, your teen years spent in hallway smackdowns and mixed martial arts classes, plus the police training as an adult. But Chris’s skills far outweighed your own, a big reason why you ever sparred with him to begin with. He always beat you in these matches, though you were getting better every time.

And today you were going to take him down.  

“Not a trick if it’s true.” At that moment he lunged forward, aiming for your stomach.

This was what you were waiting for the whole fight, dodging his punches and kicks and landing smaller but quicker hits between them. He was fast for a big dude, but you were faster. 

You just had to pick the right moment. 

You dropped low as he lurched forward, using his own momentum and catching him off balance.

He fell to the ground face first and you were quick to pounce, straddling his back and holding his arms behind him with all your strength.

You could feel the muscles of his arms flexing in your own as he tried to pull out of your grasp, but at this angle, he had no leverage. 

“Alright, alright. I yield,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you asked meanly, tilting your head forward.

“I yield and you won. Happy?” he said more loudly, just to appease you.

“Hell yeah!” you shouted, releasing your hold on him.

You pulled out your mouthguard, pumping your gloved fist in the air, the excitement of taking Chris down for the first time making you giddy. 

You leapt to your feet, holding your hand out to help him up. “Wanna go another round, Redfield?” 

“Would if I could,” he said, taking off the velcro straps of one of his gloves with his teeth after removing his own rubber piece from behind his lips.

“Oh, scared I’ll beat you again?” you teased, walloping him in the gut good-naturedly.

He knocked aside your hand as he rolled his eyes. “You know I have to go pick up Claire from the airport. Otherwise, I’d put you in your place.”

“I’m choosing to ignore that last part,” you said, plopping down on the floor for a quick break and ripping off your own gloves. “You two still coming over for dinner tomorrow night? You know, so I can finally meet her?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he told you with a grin, gathering his gear and heading toward the men’s locker room. “Seeya then!” 

“I better!” you called, watching him as he slipped through the door.

You fell onto your back and starfished out on the mat, your exhaustion from the match finally catching up to you. 

A part of you still wanted to go another round, wondering if anyone from your team was still hanging around the precinct. You could even hit up your buddies in the east and west offices. Rita always loved a good fight with you.

“That was impressive,” a deep voice rang out. 

With a jolt, you sat upright, looking wide-eyed at the man walking towards you.

“Captain!” you exclaimed. “You saw that?”

“I did,” he told you. “Chris is one of my best fighters, so that was no easy feat.”

You wanted to accept the full glory of such a compliment, but you had the suspicion that Chris was holding back the whole fight. “I think he took it easy on me, to be honest.” 

“Well, he shouldn’t have underestimated you, then. His mistake.” 

“Thank you, sir,” you replied, only able to offer him a bashful smile, changing the subject in order to hide the way his words affected you, “What brings you to the gym anyway?”

He was still in his S.T.A.R.S. uniform, so clearly he wasn’t already exercising when he happened upon your sparring match with Chris. 

“I usually complete my workouts early in the day, but Chief Irons’s emergency call this morning was quite the disruption to my schedule.”

“Better late than never, I guess.” You let out a shrill giggle that sounded unnatural coming from your mouth, making yourself wince at your own awkwardness.

“Indeed,” he said, scanning the room. “Would you be up for another round? Unlike Chris, I have no intention of going easy on you.” 

Had you imagined the dark lilt in his voice as he spoke those last few words? Something about it made your spine tingle.

You were nervous at the idea of sparring with the captain, though, mainly because you knew he was the best at combat in S.T.A.R.S., even above Chris. And if you were only just now able to take Chris down in a match, knowing full well he didn’t put his all into the fight, you had no chance against Wesker. 

You weren’t exactly leaping at the opportunity to get humiliated by your boss, but the thought of him touching you, even in a violent way, gave you pause in declining his offer.

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” you eventually agreed.

“Excellent. I’ll be right back.” He left for a few minutes to change into his athleticwear, something you realized you’d never seen him in until now. The thought drove you a little crazy. You shoved the guard back in your mouth and returned your gloves to your hands in anticipation.

He came back into the room in a well-fitted white t-shirt and black sweatpants. You felt your face heat up as you drank in his appearance and the way the fabric clung to his body. You never thought someone could look so hot in sweats, and yet.

He pulled on his gloves as he joined you on the mat, sunglasses still on his face and no protective piece of rubber in sight.

“Uh, sir, shouldn’t you wear a mouthguard?” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” he assured, nonchalant as he got into position in front of you, “I won’t need it.”

Bewildered by his confidence, you matched his stance, putting up your hands.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

Before you could even blink, he was on you, immediately throwing a punch that sent you staggering back a step. 

You recovered swiftly, able to dodge the next one, though barely.

You were shocked by how lithe and quick on his feet he was, considering his height and the fact he was a decade older than you.

You went for a low blow at his side, hoping to open his guard for a second hit. 

He blocked it with ease before punching you in the gut so hard, it winded you.

“Keep your guard up,” he instructed, giving you the barest of moments to recuperate before he landed his next strike.

You were struggling to find an opening, so you had to desperately dodge and weave in hopes of catching him unawares. You knew you wouldn’t have enough momentum to charge him, as he wouldn’t let you back away far enough. You worried if you tried to kick him, he’d just pull your feet from under you. 

Maybe you could trip him?

That would be your best bet of getting him on the ground.

You narrowly avoided a kick to the chest, realizing now was your chance before he could stand in a more stable position.

You quickly swept your leg out, aiming straight for his ankles.

Before you could finish the movement, however, he was able to grapple you with ease, your world spinning as he flipped you spine-first onto the mat, pinning you there.

You were breathing heavily as you tried to loosen his grip, your frustration mounting at the obvious futility of it.

“Fine, I yield,” you finally admitted, slumping back against the mat in defeat.

Your eyes snapped up when you heard him chuckle above you, the man barely having broken a sweat. 

“You lasted longer than I expected,” he told you as he leaned down, the suggestive smirk on his face crashing you back to the reality that he was on top of you, his face mere inches from your own. 

He hovered for a moment, almost teasingly, before releasing you and standing up.

He pulled off one of his gloves and held his hand out for you to take as he said, “You need to work on predicting your opponent’s next move, my dear.”

“Duly noted,” you replied as you let him help you to your feet, feeling embarrassed by your blunders throughout the whole match. 

But there was something else too. 

The rush you felt as he pinned you down would fuel your fantasies for weeks to come.

He gave you a small smile, stunning you as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, an incredibly tender action considering what had just transpired between you. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

Oh, you were in for it now.

***

November 5, 1996; Raccoon Forest

The day had taken an unexpected turn, one that you couldn’t help but be grateful for.

Just over an hour ago, you had been sitting in the S.T.A.R.S. office, arguing with Forest over which popular rock bands would win in a bar brawl when Wesker and Marini strode into the room, the purpose in their steps indicating one thing and one thing only:

A new mission briefing. 

There had been a robbery at the Johnson National Bank and the eight culprits had scattered to the winds. Intel suggested they had run off to the Raccoon Forest, up near the town of Cedar, but there were a handful of places they had been seen in and around the area. It was decided that a few members of the team (and yourself) would be splitting up into groups to check out the different locations.

And that led to you sitting in the passenger seat of one of the R.P.D.’s unmarked vans, Wesker behind the wheel. 

You were more than a little shocked by his decision to have the two of you go alone on this assignment, the man usually sticking to larger groups or remaining behind in the S.T.A.R.S. office to have a better hold of the situation. This time, he left Marini in charge, to everyone’s bewilderment. It didn’t last long, however, the team immediately jumping into action. 

You, though? You were dazed. Giddy, even.

You came into work everyday just hoping you’d have another moment alone with him like some blushing schoolgirl, happy as a clam to be given any opportunity.

Over the last few weeks, he had continued his maddening gestures of light touches and shared glances (which seemed to be a constant these days, to your delight), and you had sparred several times since that very first match. 

He always managed to pin you to the ground, no matter how much you’d been improving, and despite your competitive nature making you want to win just once, you couldn’t help but relish the physical contact combat training with him brought. You still enjoyed and learned a lot from your matches with Chris, but Wesker was the better teacher. Maybe that was the infatuation talking, though.

And now you were sitting alone with him, heading towards a cabin in the woods.

It would almost be romantic if you took the armed robbers out of the equation.

The relatively long drive was quite tense, however, and you tried desperately multiple times to ease it with mindless smalltalk. The captain was very clearly uninterested in that. 

And so the last stretch of the trip was completely silent, save for the occasional chatter of your team over the radio.

You spent most of the ride staring out at the passing trees, picking at your cuticles as you were oft to do. 

“You should stop doing that.” 

You startled at Wesker’s voice in the quiet vehicle, whipping your head around to face him. He glanced at you only for a moment before putting his attention back on the road ahead.

“Nervous habit,” you mumbled, feeling like a scolded child.

He didn’t respond, but you continued to look at him anyway. 

You admired the slope of his nose, his strong jawline, and the way he seemed to be made of only hard lines and sharp edges. How someone so cold could set you ablaze was beyond you.

Maybe you just wanted what you couldn’t have.

He half-turned back to you, meeting your gaze with a slight quirk of his brow. “Yes?”

“Nothing!” you said a little too quickly, embarrassed you had been caught outright ogling him in such close quarters. 

He let out a faint snicker, and when you peered over at him, you saw the smug smile that graced his lips. You were expeditious in returning your eyes to the window, not wanting him to see the heat blooming in your face.

Did he have any inkling as to what he did to you? How he affected you so severely, it must have changed the wiring of your brain? 

He had to know, right? At least somewhat? The way he’d tease you or smirk at you had to mean something. 

He’s still my boss, you reminded yourself. It wouldn’t matter if he knew. It wouldn’t matter if he felt even a fraction of the same way. Nothing good would come of it.

You knew that.

Still, you thought of sapphires. 

You remained facing away from him until he pulled down a dirt road and parked the van between some trees, giving you ample cover from prying eyes. 

You sat up straight, unbuckling your seatbelt as you turned to him for instruction, knowing when to set aside your feelings for the sake of the job.

The plan was simple enough: the two of you would circle the perimeter before advancing in on the cabin. If there was any indication that more than at least two of the perps were present, you would return to the van and call for backup. Otherwise, you could proceed with searching the small building and possibly make an arrest.

The captain informed the team of your whereabouts and of the plan, a couple of them already through with their inspections, finding nothing. He told them to remain on standby while you and the others conducted your own search. 

“Stay close to me,” Wesker warned as the two of you readied your guns, carefully making your way to the clearing where the old wooden cabin sat.

You and the captain checked the surrounding area, noting there weren’t any vehicles present, though the tire tracks in the dirt just outside the building were fresh.

There were no lights on inside the cabin as you approached the door, waiting for Wesker’s orders. He had you pick the lock, which you did with relative ease, before he went in ahead of you, gun first. 

The place was a mess, beer bottles and other garbage littering every surface. It smelled of mildew and sweat, which made you crumple your nose in disgust as you shuffled silently through the tiny rooms.

You followed Wesker as he entered the final space–a bedroom–and ripped the closet door open to find it empty, save for a stack of shoe boxes in the corner.

“All clear at the cabin,” he said, both to you and the radio. “We’re going to search the place more thoroughly. Tell me if anything changes on your end. Over.” 

You heard a chorus of “copy that” as you lowered your gun, feeling more relaxed as you began looking for either the stolen money or clues to the thieves’ current whereabouts.

“This place looks like it’s been abandoned a while,” you mused, taking in the state of the seventies-style furniture and the building itself. 

It was all covered in a thick layer of gray dust, except for what had been kicked up or swept away by the fugitives staying here–the dark wood of the floors, walls, and ceiling cracking and rotting in some places.

“Many of the cabins out here were built nearly a hundred years ago, mostly inhabited by hunters and trappers,” Wesker told you as he scanned his surroundings, ever calculating. “When Umbrella made their home in Arklay county and the population grew, a lot of the properties were bought up and remodeled.”

“I wonder why this place was abandoned, then.”

Wesker shrugged. “More people started moving into the city.”

“Good ole urbanization, huh?” you joked, offering him a grin. “I wish I had the money to buy a place like this. Would be nice to have a little vacation home. Always loved the forest here.”

“Though I believe I could thrive anywhere,” he replied with a sniff, “I much prefer the city.”

You laughed. “Fair enough. I do like to visit the more rural areas, but you can take all my city conveniences from my cold, dead hands.”

You heard him huff out a chuckle in response, something that always made you weak in the knees to hear it–to know he found you amusing. What you would give to hear a real, unrestrained, honest to god belly laugh from him, though. You wondered if he was capable of such a thing. You couldn’t even imagine a sound like that coming from someone so poised and put-together.

“Well, would you look at this,” Wesker remarked, drawing you back to reality. When you turned to him, he had fallen to one knee, prying open a floorboard in the dining room. “Appears I’ve discovered their stash.”

You rushed over to him, peeking over his shoulder to see rows and rows of stacked bills, shoved into a compartment built under the floor.

“How did you even find this?” you questioned in shock. You were pretty observant, but something like this never would have crossed your mind, least of all how to access it.

“The mountains were a safer place to store alcohol during the prohibition. Some of these old cabins had secret compartments and rooms installed to hide their contraband,” he explained before pointing at the loose piece of wood held aloft in his hand. “And I noticed these fingerprints in the dust along the edges.”

“My very own Sherlock Holmes,” you said, awestruck. “I could really learn a thing or two from you, huh, Detective?”

“Elementary, my dear Watson.”

You stared openmouthed at him for a moment before bursting into a laugh, not expecting him to play along. 

He looked up and your heart stopped as he smiled at you. Teeth and all. You couldn’t recall having ever witnessed such a genuine expression on his face, the realization filling you with an unprecedented warmth.

Before you could fully appreciate this momentous occasion, you heard a creak from behind you in the kitchen. You both snapped your attention to the direction of the noise, pulling your guns from their holsters.

Wesker stood, holding a finger to his lips as the two of you crept forward into the room. You looked around, checking the pantry, fridge, and the inside of every cabinet, but there was nothing amiss.

You took a steadying breath. “Must’ve been the house settling.”

Wesker nodded and you moved away from him, ready to make your way out of the cramped space as you returned your weapon to your belt.

You were nearing the entrance to the kitchen when Wesker suddenly called out, “Wait–”

His voice was cut off by the crash that sounded beside you.

A door hidden in the wall flung open, two men barreling out of the space behind it and right towards you.

You let out a yelp as one of them took you tumbling to the ground, too fast and too close to have pulled out your gun in time to prevent it.

The man was huge, heavier than even Chris as he bore down his whole weight on top of you.

You kneed him in the groin as he tried to hold down your arms, the pain making him falter. 

You managed to flip him onto his back, pulling your gun out once more as he struggled against you. He stopped when he saw the barrel pointed directly at his face.   

You flinched when you heard a shot ring out, the sound of a body hitting the floor making you jerk your head around to make sure that your captain was the one still standing.

You realized your error too late when the man below you grabbed for your gun while you were distracted.

You had the chance to shoot, knowing that if he managed to yank it from your grasp, he’d blow your brains out in a heartbeat. 

But you had never killed anyone–never wanted to kill anyone. 

You knew a violence stirred within you. It was the reason you even ended up here in the first place. But murder? Even in self-defense, even justified, you were terrified of pulling the trigger. 

This was something you could never come back from.  

And so you made another grave mistake.

You hesitated.

Although your grip on the firearm was secure and he couldn’t tug it out of your hands, he used his strength over you to twist the barrel away from him and towards you instead.

You fought to regain control as he shoved it closer and closer to your face.

With nothing left to do, you pushed down hard, the firearm pointed sideways, to your relief.

But the pressure of the action forced your finger against the trigger, the gun going off between you.

You both reeled back from the noise, your would-be killer loosening his hold just enough for you to rip your handgun away from him. 

But before you could even rack the slide and point it towards the man once again, another shot was fired. 

You felt the man below you go limp and you sat there, stunned, as you watched the blood pour out of the hole in his head, collecting in a pool on the dirty kitchen tiles.

Hands trembling from the adrenaline, you stood up, taking in the bodies of the two robbers that laid before you, splashes of dark red now decorating the wall and floor. 

“Thank you, Captain,” you said, eyeing the carnage with barely repressed nausea. “That was too close.” 

You heard a hiss of pain behind you and you spun on your heels, finding Wesker with a snarl on his face as he held his hand to the side of his neck.

“Captain..?” you questioned, voice filled with concern as you stepped towards him.

That’s when you saw it–the crimson rivulets that ran down his wrist, staining the blue of his shirt.

You panicked, rushing forward. “Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

You reached out to him, quickly pulling away his hand to assess the damage. It was a small, open wound. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep, and no major arteries had been afflicted.

He was clearly grazed by a bullet if the hole in the cabinet behind his head was any indication. 

But when had he been shot? 

He must have seen you trying to replay the scene in your head, counting the gunshots you recalled hearing, when he spoke with a low voice. 

“You hesitated.”

That was right. Your gun had gone off, facing away from both you and the perp. 

It had hit him.

You stopped breathing when it registered in your brain, the sickening awareness of the fact that it was the bullet from your gun that had injured him–that had nearly killed him–making your heart sink into your gut.

“Oh god. Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I can’t–'' He placed a firm, grounding hold on your arm with his free hand and you took a sharp breath in. You had to get it together. Your guilt could wait until he stopped bleeding, at least. “Come on, my medkit’s in the van.”

The two of you rushed outside and to the vehicle in question. You opened the back of it, having him sit on the edge of the cargo space as you scrounged in your kit for supplies.

You got to work on the wound, Wesker explaining the situation over the radio, requesting assistance from Chief Irons to handle the stolen money and the corpse clean-up. You were grateful he didn’t mention your almost fatal misstep, simply telling the chief that he had been injured.

Once that was handled and you finished covering the gash on his neck, you gently pressed your fingers to it, your eyes finally filling with tears now that he was all patched up.

Normally, you’d be over the moon to be this close to him–to be touching him–but not like this. It was tainted by your error in judgment. By your inability to do what had to be done. 

“I should have taken the shot,” you whispered with a quivering voice full of shame and regret, incapable of looking at him.

You felt him grip your wrist and your watery gaze traveled to his visage, his mouth in a tight line, whatever emotion could be shown in his eyes hidden behind his shades.

“You should have,” he agreed, “but you didn’t.”

You felt a sob catch in your throat. 

“And I should have noticed the hidden door sooner. But I didn’t. Nothing to be done about it now.”

You gaped at how blase he was being. You would rather him be angry with you than whatever this was. You deserved his vitriol right now. Not this calm acceptance.

“Captain, you were hurt because of me!” you cried, your fingers digging into his shirt as your tears spilled down your cheeks. “You nearly died!”

Your breath hitched as he brought his unbloodied hand to cup your face, his thumb wiping away the droplets falling in its path. 

“So did you,” he responded, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’m willing to take a bullet if it means sparing you.”

You could feel your heart swelling in your chest, unable to tamp down the affection that threatened to erupt from that locked-up place inside of you, where you had been hiding your growing feelings for your dear captain.

And, without a single sensible thought left to stop you, you surged forward and kissed him.

His lips were soft, and you could almost laugh at yourself for being shocked by such a revelation. He might’ve looked like he was made of marble, but his skin was pliant as any man’s. You had built him up so much in your head, you sometimes forgot that he was human too.

He tensed and you pulled back instantly, panic rising with the thought that you had gone off the deep end this time.

First, you nearly killed your boss, and then you kissed him? All within roughly fifteen minutes? 

Surely, there was a record for something like that.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten–”

Before you could even finish your sentence, however, he tugged you towards him once more, kissing you so hard it made your toes curl inside of your boots.

When he released you, you were dazed, the feel and taste of his mouth so consuming, you were sure you’d be dreaming about it for weeks to come.

You wanted to say something–to tell him how long you had wanted to do that for–but the words died on your tongue at the sound of a vehicle fast approaching.

You sighed as you stepped away from him to create some distance, not wanting to expose whatever it was that had just passed between you.

You heard Chris and Jill calling out and you yelled back, alerting them to your location in the brush beside the road.

Before they could arrive, though, Wesker grabbed you by the jaw and pulled you into one final, searing kiss.

You had felt fire before–it was in your nature to chase whatever flame compelled you–but this? 

This was wild. Untamed. An inferno to boil your blood and burn up every shred of common sense you had left.

There was no way to contain it anymore. No way to put it out.

All you could do now was ignite.

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

Masterlist | Previous | Next

[destinyc1020]

Hmm people were not there since the very beginning. The tomdaya fandom was built by Z stans first and foremost, that's a fact. She's the the most famous of the two, and she already has some pattern with her previous rs so her stans knew her yea and knew Tom was her bf and they supported that.

When they split a lot of them, especially on Twitter, stopped talking about Tom even tho the Cherry era fed us a lot of content behind the scenes etc. They took her side.

And overall people love the two but are more Z stans that Tom stans, I don't know who is anon following but it's def not the big Tomdaya blog out here. The large majority of the fandom are women,and it's easier to look up to Z and enjoy her content because she has other business next to acting in fashion, and is more present, so is more enjoyable to follow her than him who is way more quiet nowadays. I have nothing against people who are more Z stan, as look as they're respectful towards Tom too.

But the truth is that people like Z more and that's fine, Im convinced you could make a poll asking them "if you had to give up one person to unfollow from everywhere and not consume any content from them forever, which one would you choose" and I'm convinced most people in the fandom would choose her🤷‍♀️

Hmm..... I'm not sure what your last paragraph meant. 🤔

But anyway, grab a comfy chair, cuz this is gonna be long lol. 😂

Tbh? I'm really kind of feeling that some fans got divided after the breakup actually, coz what I saw during 2019 is that SOME fans took Tom's side, and SOME fans took Zendaya's side.

I almost got the impression with some Tomdaya fans/accounts that they didn't really care too much about Z's career or whereabouts unless it pertained to Tom or possibly them maybe getting back together after the whole Olivia fiasco.... but BEFORE the JE popping up in Greece with Z episode. 👀

I think after Greece, most Tomdaya fans lost hope that Tom and Zendaya were "getting back together" (at least, not THAT year lol 😆), and the focus on Z was less. It got even MORE less when Z and JE were spotted kissing in NYC, and some in the Tomdaya fandom really started to hate Zendaya after that cuz here she was out kissing JE who she had only dated for 6 months, and with Tom she was soooo secretive. (That right there should have been a sign that maybe she was rebounding lol? 😆)

Now that's just what I personally saw, but again, my life is busy, so I don't always see everything. 🤷🏾‍♀️

I do recall a LOT of Zendaya's fans being really cruel towards Tom however when Z and JE started dating. The height jokes were just crazy. They felt JE was a better option. All of it was just optics and how they physically looked together. I mean, the man is like 6'5 lol, so he's gonna be taller than MOST women AND most men put together lol 😆

I think some of her fans turned on Tom coz he was spotted with a blonde white girl while wearing her keyhole neck chain 👀, and that was like the ULTIMATE disrespect in their eyes (woc know what I mean), cuz fans felt he had cheated on Z. So then, all bets were off I guess. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned rofl 🤣 Y'all know we as women can be ruthless if we feel a man has done us wrong lol. You KNOW it's true lol 😏

I think some fans were just angry on Z's account, but Z wasn't putting her business out there. If anything, she was trying to give off signs that she and Tom were cool. It's kinda hard when you denied for years that you two were nothing but friends to do damage control lol 😆

Anyway, I don't really like rehashing the past or talking about this time period honestly. 😔

I'll just say that it kind is seemed to me that BOTH sides of the fandom kind of took sides, and if one side prefers one or the other, then that's okay I guess? 🤷🏾‍♀️

I personally like them BOTH. When they broke up I just felt bad for them and just hoped that they would at least TRY again with each other since I didn't feel like their 1.0 rlshp was really all that conducive to a healthy, long-term rlshp. I didn't hate on either of them though, and I just felt like whatever happened in the rlshp was just their business. I don't like taking sides during a breakup when idk all the facts tbh. It's not my life or my rlshp. And unless someone puts out a tell-all book, idk the facts. And even then, that's only that ONE person's side of the story tbh.🤷🏾‍♀️

I obviously relate more to Z cuz I'm also a woman and a woc, but I really do like both of them, and I've said from the beginning that I don't like comparing them. 🥴

[bokettochild]

The Worries and Woes of Heroic Hair

Y'all were busting out hair headcannons before I left, so I saved a few and wrote a fic for them.

Featuring:

Pre-maturely grey Twilight

Curly haired Legend

Long haired Four

(As well as a reference to long hair Sky)

Warriors had gained the unfortunate title of ‘pretty boy’.

In a group of beautiful men and boys that literally sent women swooning, no matter what world they were in, he’d somehow been labeled the “pretty” one. Never mind he was more mature looking than half of their number. Never mind that Legend and Hyrule looked like a pair of porcelain dolls hand painted by a master artist. Never mind that Wild literally had half of his world falling heels over head for him. No matter how many women in the War of Ages had gushed about the adult Hero of Time (much to Mask’s annoyance). And sure, let’s just forget that Wars had heard not one, but two princess’s complimenting Twilight’s ass.

Yeah, okay, he was the pretty boy, sure.

Maybe that was because he was the only one in the group that actually had any understanding of a little thing called personal hygiene! Honestly! Had no one introduced the vet to a bathtub when he was younger? Or Wild to a hairbrush? And Hyrule... oh Hyrule...

Honestly, it was a pain, trying to not say something to his brothers that might be taken as rude or offensive. At least his own two boys were a bit better. During the war he’d pounded some sense into their heads after scrubbing their ears clean enough that they could actually hear him when he spoke, and Time and Wind both showed some (although not much more than the others) level of personal grooming, even if it was the basic wash and brush that Wars had required of all of his soldiers.

The others though? He had been beginning to think they might be hopeless, but then he’d had a chance to do something about it.

“Wars?”

“Hmm?” Bright blue darted up from the journal Warriors had been writing in, meeting Wind’s pout with a soft chuckle at his baby-faced brother. One day, Wind would be as grizzled and scruffy as his grandfather (would be his grandfather) but for now he would take him time teasing the kid for his baby-face. After all, it wasn’t like he’d be getting another chance to get revenge on the man who’d teased him up to his wedding day for his “lack of masculine charm”.

“My hair is knotted. In the back.” Wind didn’t even bother waiting for a signal, instead just plopping down in the captain's lap and dropping a brush by his knee. And really, with how the war had gone, Warriors should have expected that.

Any injury that impeded movement meant Wars was helping his two boys with whatever was needed during the war, and near the top of that list had been brushing hair. Broken arm or sprained wrist or whatever Hyrule had diagnosed it as (he’d been a bit too wrapped up in helping hold Wild still so he and Legend could treat the kid’s crushed hand to hear the healer’s final word), he was always happy to help the younger hero sort out his problems.

At least Wind let him help, instead of sending him scandalized looks and rude signs at the mere mention of a bath, like Legend did, or simply darting away like Hyrule.

“Wind,” Sky frowned slightly. “You didn’t have to disturb Wars, any of us would have been willing to help.”

The sailor cocked a brow, leaning back into his touch as he worked over the knot with nimble fingers well accustomed to working through tangled golden curls. “Says the Hero of Eternal Bedhead.”

Crystal blue eyes darted up to messy bangs. “Is it really that bad?”

“Yes.” Sailor and captain deadpanned together, matching grins on their faces as they stared at the Skyloftian.

“Oh feathers.” Sky huffed, running his hands through his hair and looking at the two expectantly. “Is that better?”

Wind snorted. “Sky, you need a hairbrush for your bird’s nest.”

“But,” Sky cocked his head like a confused puppy. “I don’t have a bird’s nest?”

“He means that your hair is a mess.” He chuckled, pausing in his work to pat the ground at his side. “Here, I’ll do you next, ‘kay?” And bless Sky for being a patient and reasonable person, because at the very least the Skyloftian just sauntered over easily and sat hot-cross-buns on the ground beside him, watching lazily as he worked at the sailor’s messy hair.

“It’s not that bad,” The Sailor huffed. “You can’t honestly be taking this long.” The kid wasn’t fooling him though, Wind was leaning into the touch, almost slumped against his chest in a boneless pile of teenager.

“You’re dry as a desert.” He scolded softly in response, rubbing some of the bristly hair between his fingers. “I’ve told you salt water dries your hair out, you need to take care of it or it’ll never grow out properly.”

Wind shifted awkwardly. “I didn’t have time. I did try, I mean it! It just... We’re always so busy and...”

His hands were already reaching for his pack. “You’re lucky mine dries out too. I’ll need to get more in the next town, but I think this oil can last us both long enough to get you some again.”

“Oil?” Sky frowned thoughtfully. “What for?”

“Split ends and dry hair.” Came the practiced answer as he rubbed the substance in question over his hands and began to card it through the sailor’s parched curls. “I suppose you could say it’s like with birds. They have to oil their feathers to stay healthy, right?”

“Oh! Okay, yeah, that makes sense.” The Skyloftian mulled over the concept for a moment. “We need to do that to our hair?”

Long fingers stopped mid stroke, royal blue blinking slowly in the clueless sky child’s direction. “Oh, you poor, clueless bird-boy you, your hair must be parched!”

Wind’s giggles shook them both, but Sky simply looked hurt. “I try. How was I supposed to know?”

Fingers slick with hair oil curled to point at the other hero. “I am massaging this stuff into your thirsty scalp right now. Wind, move.”

The sailor tumbled, giggling from Wars’ lap, leaving Sky to stare down at the captain’s crossed legs. “I’m- Warriors I am not sitting in your lap.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Brush in one hand and bottle of hair oil in the other, Warriors moved to stand behind the Skyloftain. “Just stay right there and let me work, and I swear if someone else tells me to my face that they’re not taking care of themselves- Sky! Look at this!”

The Skyloftian shifted, trying to look for only a moment before huffing. “Warriors, I can’t see the top of my own-”

“When’s the last time you trimmed this?” Brittle tips crinkled under his fingers as he stared at the mess that was Sky’s hair. “Your split ends are horrible!”

“Crimson usually trims it for me.” Came the softly mumbled response, and Wars had to hold back an affronted squawk at the words.

“You’re entrusting the care of your hair to a bird? Sky, my lovely, my dear friend, my brother, what the actual Ladies?”

“He does a good job!”

“If you call this rat’s nest a good job! Honestly, it’s no wonder Legend finally agreed to let you cuddle him, he must feel right at home with this mess!”

“Ouch.” Sky huffed, crossing his arms loosely and pouting.

“That aside,” He began working the first knot out, fluffing Sky’s hair lightly in his fingers. “It’s a good color, nice volume too. Have you ever considered growing it out? Without the split ends?”

“Huh?”

Caramel hair parted easily in his hands, springy and soft despite the brittle ends. “You’d look fetching with long hair, Chosen One. My, imagine what Sun would say if she saw you!” Sky stiffened as the soldier ducked down, voice lowering and eyes glinting with mischief as he whispered in his friend’s ear. “If she wasn’t already swooning at seeing you again, she’d be dizzy at the sheer beauty.”

“Wars!” Long ears twitched, tellingly red as the Skyloftian battled a fierce blush.

But the captain was already lost in his rant, taking pleasure in making Wind continue to giggle as Sky whined softly in protest at his teasing. “I can see it now! You arrive fresh out of battle, sword in hand and hair whipping in the wind, cape swirling like the wings of the goddess herself! She sees you. Your eyes meet. You shoot her one of your dashing smiles and she stumbles back, breathless, and you have to dart forwards to catch her before she swoons away altogether, so bedazzled she is by your handsome visage!” He flourished with a smile, letting oiled locks fall over Sky’s eyes with a laugh as the Skyloftian blushed brighter, not bothering to shift his bangs and instead hiding behind them, trying and failing to hide a pleased smile.

Wind didn’t stop giggling until Sky had had to punch the captain in the leg to make him finally cease the teasing.

“Smithy,” Twilight’s laughter rung through camp as he brushed long bangs out of the smithy’s eyes, the younger hero still smushed against the rancher's side sleepily, headband askew and half hanging in his eyes. The boy’s hair curtained his face, falling back into place the moment Twilight lifted his hand again, producing rumbling laughter form the farm-hand. “Four, you- when in Ordonia’s name did you last trim your hair?”

“’s not that long.” Came the murmured reply as Four pressed his face further into Twilight’s side, nestling closer with an irritable huff. “Leave ‘lone, Twi.”

The smithy might have denied it but... his hair really had grown out.

It wasn’t really that apparent with the headband keeping it back, and Four was decent enough at keeping his hair out of his face. But headbands, no matter how trusty, didn’t stay up forever, and when one was as active as a Hero of Courage, it wasn’t uncommon to find one’s self with their hair swinging loose in battle. Not that most of them minded, Wild kept his hair tied carefully and Legend tucked all of his under a hat, meanwhile the others all had shorter locks that, other than the swishing of their bangs, mostly stayed out of their faces.

Four on the other hand...

Four’s headband had fallen loose into a mud puddle, and until he was able to clean it the smithy had been walking around like a sheepdog, bangs fluffing into his eyes and making the shortest hero huff in an annoyed manner as he kept swiping his bangs aside. Unfortunately, they weren’t long enough to tuck behind his ears, only to hang in his face and send him stumbling over and into all sorts of things with sharp yelps and soft swears as the hero closest to him would have to offer a hand or scoop up the small smithy again.

Wars didn’t say anything, but when Four finally approached him one evening, eyes flickering icy blue as he dashed his bangs out of the way and tugged at the scarf draped around the captain’s neck (the others’ favorite way of getting his attention he had found).

“Hey there, smithy, what’s up?”

“Cut them.” Four huffed, pushing the loose hair back again only to have them drift back over his glinting eyes, and then, as if an afterthought, he tacked on ‘Please?’.

Royal blue darted up to Sky, who smiled on the edge of the campfire, a knowing look in his eyes. “Did Sky tell you I could help?”

“No. I figured that out myself. He just... pushed me.”

Laughter bubbled up in his chest. “Ah.”

“So, can you help? Or do I need to wander around looking like a Mogma?” Sky could be heard muttering across the camp at that, and Four’s ears twitched as he huffed, clearly having taken offense at whatever had been said.

He nodded, a bit unsure why Four glared across the fire at Sky, but willing to help. Oh goddesses, was he willing to help; Four’s hair bugged him nearly as much as Wild’s did, and he had been dying to fix it for the smithy. He wasn’t sure what Sky had said, but he was thankful for the other knight’s willingness to aid him in his battle against poor hygiene, and if he could turn another hero with the power of a good haircut, well! “Anything you have in mind? Just what you had before, or...?”

“Bangs.” Four dropped down hot-cross-buns, just like Sky had the other day, in front of him, arms crossed and expectant as he huffed at his long bangs.

“Right.” His brush and scissors were already sitting at the ready as he reached out to gently push the hair out of his friend’s eyes. “You good?”

“Annoyed.” Four sulked. “I can’t see anything and Twilight has been called me a sheep-dog.” Accurate. “I just want my hair short again, but the last time I cut it, it looked like I was attacked by a cat.” The smithy shivered, clutching at his sleeves as he shook his head, hair falling back into his eyes as he did so. “I just let it grow after that, but the bangs bother me if I can’t push them back.”

“Noted.”

Four’s hair was a bit silkier than the others’, but similarly brittle, although that was likely due to the heat of the forge rather than sea salt and extended time in the sky. He didn’t even bother asking about oiling the locks as he worked, brushing out all of Four’s hair with care and sectioning out the bangs with the same amount of agonizing detail Legend put into his paintings or Wild put into his cooking.

“Hair cut?” Twilight called from across camp.

“You could use one too,” Four huffed, unmoving save for his eyes darted to glance over his shoulder. “Your hair is beginning to look like wolf ears, rancher. Wolfie might take offense that you’re stealing his look and come maul you.”

Chuckles sounded around the camp, Legend wheezing lightly while Time and Wild shared a look. Wars didn’t know what that was about, but he smiled as he worked, humming lightly under his breath as he clipped a bit here and a touch there, releasing the hair to stare at it, adjusting it a bit, taking another section in hand and snipping it, and repeating the whole process.

Four was still as a statue the whole time, occasionally humming along to whatever tune happened to be on Warriors’ mind at the moment, but otherwise as poised and picturesque as a statue as the captain worked over the smithy’s blond locks.

This close up, Warriors was beginning to wonder why they never met any lovely admirers of the smithy, Four was certainly not lacking in the looks department, and had the kid lived in his time he’d find himself having to beat off girls with a stick. Honestly, how was he the pretty boy here?

“Nearly done?” Came the patient hum, and he snapped himself back to reality as he brushed Four’s bangs back into place, trimmed and tidy, along with the rest of his short hair.

“Yep.” The scissors finally came to rest in his lap as he whisked away the cloak that he’d used to catch the trimmed hairs. “My, my, smithy, you almost look as if you were going courting! Legend, lend a man your shield for a tick, would you? Four needs to see his new cut.”

The veteran rolled his eyes, but the shield was offered readily enough when Four trotted his way over, and while the smithy looked a bit surprised that Wars had bothered to braid most of his hair out of the way during the cut, he didn’t look at all displeased.

Wars counted that as a win.

He’d run out of oil a few days ago, and already his hair was beginning to frizz in this thrice-forsaken heat.

Being born with curly hair was nothing of the blessing his mother had made it out to be, no matter how she liked playing with her ‘baby boy’s’ hair. Of course, his beloved liked it too, but he was going to chalk that up to being a woman thing, curls were a pain if they weren’t on kids, especially if they were eon him.

Thank Hylia that Lilith had taught him to straighten it all out, he would have been driven half out of his mind if he hadn’t been able to control it on his way through basic, and the teasing would have been so much worse than it actually had been.

As was, the captain was only too happy when they next came to his Castletown, and after he’d made sure the others were settled in the castle with his cousin, he’d gracefully made his exit and headed out to the town. Getting through the streets was a pain, his armor and scarf giving him away as the hero and practically inviting the whole market to start competing for his attention, along with the hundreds of shoppers who surged close with questions and thanks and admiration. Not for the first time, Warriors found himself thankful that he handled crowds better than many of his fellow soldiers, and even if all the attention was a bit much, he wasn’t overwhelmed like poor Wild would have been.

Oh heavens, the day they finally figured out how to explain the portals and heroes nonsense to the public to excuse the sudden aging of the Hyrulian Hero’s child, Wild was likely going to have to start wearing a hood or something when they went into town.

The dye shop was a way into the market, and it had taken quite the bit of fancy footwork to avoid stepping on anyone as he’d answered questions and received thanks from the enthusiastic, if not slightly push, people of Hyrule. If he closed the door of the shop after him with a sigh of relief though, that was between him and Gyssel, the shopkeeper.

“Back again, Link? Same materials as the last time?”

“If you please.” He nodded with a smile. “Though I might have a bit of a glance around, I’ve a friend in need of a few things.”

The old woman nodded with a chuckle. “Right then. Oh, and if you see those two lovely gents who popped in here earlier, would you be willing to lend ‘em a hand? Poor dears looked lost as two minish in a fairy pond when they stumbled in here, but I’ve been batting a thousand with the customers all day and haven’t had a chance to pop over and offer help. You know the shop same as I do, so, if you have a moment, could you check in on them while I wrap your things?”

“Of course.” He nodded, smiling his best as he moved towards the back wall.

The other voices in the shop were mostly those of tittering ladies and mischief making pranksters, all too young and too high to belong to the ‘lovely gents’ that Gyssel had been speaking of, and it wasn’t hard to trail the rumble of a man’s voice to the back of the store where the hair dyes were. He grinned as he rounded the corner, but froze when he found himself face to face with a startled, and maybe somewhat abashed rancher.

“Twilight?”

“Warriors?”

“Shit, Wars is here?”

Royal blue darted down to meet the snapping violet of the veteran. “Legend? What are the two of you doing in here of all places? Are you lost?”

“No.” Legend huffed, foot tapping agitatedly at the floor as he gnawed his bottom lip, a sure sign of awkwardness if one knew the vet.

“What are you doing- oh.” Twilight’s face faded from confusion to understanding. “You’re the city boy, of course you shop in joints like this.”

He cocked a brow, hands coming to rest on his hips as he stared down the two other heroes. “Says the guy who’s been wandering around looking for something long enough the owners worried. Honestly, what could the two of you even need?”

Midnight and violet glanced warily at each other, and to his surprise, twin flushed lighted his friend’s faces as Legend had crossed his arms and Twi had rubbed at his neck.

“Hair dye.” The rancher admitted softly.

“And shampoo.” Legend had tacked on.

Warriors let his eyes blow wide an overdramatic gasp sounding in the small corner of the shop as he rested a hand on his collar. “Why, vet, you don’t mean to tell me you’re planning on actually taking a bath, are you! My heavens, what next? Will Hyrule somehow produce a wedding cake in time for Time and Malon to announce they’re having a baby?”

“They’re what!?!” Twilight yelped, sounding, ridiculously, like a dog that has just been kicked.

“I’m teasing, rancher.” He chortled. “Trust me, if Time knew of such a thing, he wouldn’t have shut up about it. Miss Malon’s still trim and terrifying as last we saw her; I have little doubt.” At the rancher’s breath of relief, he shook his head. “Honestly though, soap? Vet, last I checked-”

“It’s hot.” Legend interrupted, avoiding meeting his gaze by rolling his eyes.

“And?”

“And in case you didn’t know, our resident vet is a-”

“Don’t say it!” Legend huffed, glaring at Twilight and tugging his blue cap tighter over his head.

Come to think of it, Legend hadn’t taken the baby-blue cap off in ages...

“Is a what?”

Twilight looked down warily at the seething veteran, face twisted up between a playful grin and a wary frown, as if he didn’t yet know whether he wanted to tease and face the vet’s wrath or hold his tongue and avoid making a scene.

“Look,” Warriors sighed, glancing between the two country boys with a sigh. “I won’t tease at all, alright? But the sooner you own up to whatever nonsense you did to yourself, the sooner we can find you what you need and get ourselves out of here.”

The flush on Legend’s face darkened, eyes darting down as the vet shuffled his feet, and Wars found himself being reminded that for all the vet’s snark and sass, he really was as much of a kid as Wild and Wind were, just more accustomed at having to act otherwise.

Thin fingers rubbed at the rings on the vet’s pale hands. “Well, you see- that is- augh!”

Something inside him blossomed with warmth, a smile stretching across his face. Golden Three, Legend really was just an awkward teenager, wasn’t he? He even stumbled over his words when he was embarrassed, just like Time used to. Of course, Time had been twelve and Legend was nineteen, but that was beside the point.

“So-” The vet was nearly pouting as he struggled with his words, fingers rubbing steadily at his rings as he avoided Wars’ gaze. “You know how Ravio has curly hair?”

“Yes.”

“And you know how Ravio and I are- uh, each other's- reflect-”

A laugh bubbled out of his throat unexpectedly as he reached out to ruffle what could be seen of the vet’s frizzy bangs. “You’re a curly top! Why didn’t you say sooner?” Legend glared at him with a huff, but violet didn’t shift to indigo, so he knew it was all just an act. “Wind and I are too, I was actually in here to get some things for the two of us, and Sky too. I can help you as well if you don’t mind, just let me-” He motioned to the blue cap that was pulled snig down to Legend’s ears.

The vet huffed, but reached up to finger the blue fabric. “You won’t laugh, right?” Stern eyes met his own.

“Of course.” He smiled reassuringly.

Legend’s gaze searched his face for a moment, wary, but open, and even if it made him uncomfortable (the odd glint of gold at the edges of the vet’s eyes was a bit unsettling) he withstood it until Legend nodded, seemingly to himself, and pulled off his cap.

Pink curls spilled down to the vet’s shoulders as a bright blush colored pale cheeks. Twilight didn’t make it any better by reaching over to ruffle the vet’s head, chuckling soft and warm and surprisingly fond as Legend hissed back at him.

“Can I- that is- do you mind if I touch? I can help you find what you want better if I know what you need.”

A stiff nod.

The pink hair was just like fairy-floss, but less sticky (still dirty though) and he had to remind himself what he was doing once he got his fingers in it. A quick check at the texture and ends of Legend’s hair, as long as a quick check of the scalp and roots told him all he needed.

“Whatever dye you used to do this messed you up, vet. Honestly, I don’t know what you were thinking, but you’re dry as a mulduga’s arse. Did you bleach your hair before dying it or something?” There was a murmur in reply, but not anything he could really make out. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said that’s me natural color.” Legend huffed, tensing under his hands. “I bleached it blonde a few months back, but no, I didn’t dye this shit, it just happened.”

Twilight, very unhelpfully, giggled.

Warriors blinked. “You have pink hair?”

“Yes.”

He fought the chuckle that built up in his chest, but it did little good as he ruffles the frizzy curls and let Legend replace his hat. “Alright then! Well, I’d avoid bleaching again if I was you. The pinks out and it’s healthier if you give it a rest between dyes. I have to admit though,” He settled his hands on his hips and looked between the two other heroes with a smirk. “I never took either of you two as the sort to dye your hair.”

“Throws off the guards.” Legend huffed, tugging his cap back over his hair and making Warriors wince. Ah yes, Legend’s Hyrule’s guards.

“Fair enough. I can find you something to help with the drying out and dye damage. Twi though...” He frowned, stroking his chin in thought. “Why do you even need hair dye? Trying something new?”

Now it was the rancher’s turn to look embarrassed, rubbing at his neck and ruffling his hair. “No, actually. I jist need- rather- want? I guess? I-”

Legend huffed, patting the rancher’s arm in a rare show of compassion. “He’s been greying early and it’s making him self-conscious. I told him we could look for a dye to hide it, since he didn’t want to go about stealing Time’s position as the resident Old Man.”

Oh. Well, that made sense. “Right! Fair enough. So, you want your natural shade, yes?” At the rancher's nod he pressed on, clapping his hands as he listed what they needed. “So, hair oil, some dye, and shampoo for Legend, preferably meant for damaged and curly hair. Anything else?”

Even though the two shook their heads, they all walked out with a bit more than what Warriors had listed, but despite the fact that Legend complained about it all, no one seemed to mind too much when he pulled the three of them together after the others had gone to bed and helped show them had to use the various toiletries without making too very much of a mess. It cost a pretty penny to get them all sorted, but Legend was clean, Twilight was a brunette again (the silver streaks were rather fetching though, and he’d made sure to make sure Twilight knew that before they dyed it all away) and Wind and Sky had what they needed to prevent their hair drying out again.

And even if it made a sizable dent in his wallet, he’d refused to be paid back. It was worth it anyway, since now he and Legend both had straight hair again (and the vet had actually washed!).

He could see now why Wild and Hyrule liked playing with their respective mentors’ hair though, it was almost addictive.

Time took one look at the three youngest and groaned, and Warriors almost echoed the action.

“What were you three even doing?” His now-eldest huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh as he tried not to look at the three teens, all of which were covered in mud and grass stains, and only looking slightly remorseful, despite their horrid clothing and scraped faces.

Had it been anyone but Wild and Wind, Wars would have sat back and watched as karma paid her long overdue visit to the mischievous mask-loving hero, but since it was his kids that caught up in paying back the silver in his own hair, Wars had to stand with Time and try his very hardest not to chuckle at the sight before him.

It took no trouble at all to picture Mask sitting, unrepentant, amid the other youngsters, a challenging look on his face as he dared the captain to even try and ground him for running off again.

“We were exploring.” Hyrule grinned sheepishly, rubbing at the mud that had dried on the side of his neck. “We um-”

“We fell in a swamp.” Wild snorted, wrinkling his nose and shaking some gunk from his hands with a pout. “Even I think we stink.”

Time’s lips twitched, brows struggling to remain in a scowl as he answered, voice wavering with a hint of laughter that made Wars smile to himself. “Is that so, Cub?”

“We smell like boko guts.”

“Or boko crap!” Wind cackled, the only one not soaked in swamp goo but instead spattered with ordinary mud that came from likely tripping and falling in the dirt from laughing too hard.

“Bathe.” Time chuffed, shaking his head fondly. “All three of you. Rivers there and I’m sure Wars has soap aplenty to help.” Hang on, what? Time’s eye met his own, blinking- winking? with a bright and shit eating grin. “Have fun with you sons, dad.”

Oh Ladies, Karma messed up again, didn’t she?

“Mask, I swear-” He growled, glaring at his- was Time his eldest now? His middle child still? The youngest since he’d been the last to join the family?

“Don’t, you’ll set a bad example.” The overgrown forest gremlin chuckled, walking away with a condescending pat of the shoulder.

Some things really never changed, huh?

“Right then.” the captain turned to glare stillness back into the three youngsters, two of which were already trying to sneak away, and the third- of thank Hylia for Wind, the kid was standing at perfect attention with a smirk on his face that screamed ‘I’m the eldest and I’m about to watch my little brothers get scolded and I’m going to enjoy every second of it’, snotty little salt-bathed brat. “Jump in or I punt you.”

Hyrule and Wild exchanged a look, a sure sign of danger, and both sprinted in opposite directions.

He huffed a laugh. Amateurs. Mask and Wind had run him ragged during the war, but once you’ve fought to pre-teens on the daily, there's nothing a pair of teenagers can pull on you that will truly surprise you or throw you off. It was the work of moments to have Wild slung under one arm (wolf pups, honestly, Mask was the same way) and Hyrule by the back of his collar (Wind’s customary position).

“H-how?” Both boys stammered.

“Experience, mud moblins.”

“Do I weight anything to you?” Wild stammered, staring up at him with wide blue eyes.

The grin on his face was easier than usual in situations like these, but then again both teens had given up fighting against him sooner than the last two had ever done. “Hardly. You’ve always been a lightweight.” And with those words he promptly administered a light kick to Hyrule’s lower back, knocking the kid floundering into the stream, and following up with a well-practiced toss that send Wild rocketing in after.

Wind, already stripped down to his shorts and standing waist deep in the water, raised his hands with a shit eating grin. “Six out of Ten, Wild.” The little sea monster called to a spluttering Wild as the kid surfaced, only his face peeking above the surface as he treaded water with a pout. “You need to work on your form, but otherwise- ack!”

A wave splashed up from Hyrule’s direction and Wild sent an appreciative grin the other boy’s way while Wind’s grin melted into a playful one, eyes glinting dangerously.

“Oh, that’s it! You’re just asking for trouble now! Never start a water battle with a pirate, you two, you won’t like how it ends!”

Another, mischief filled, glance was exchanged and both feral heroes descended on the young sailor. It was like watching cucco’s descend on a bokoblin, and Warriors watched with laughter bubbling in his chest as he stripped off his gunk-stained tunic, courtesy of the mud-covered boys he’d wisely decided to pick up, and moved on to his chainmail. The sound of the three youngest heroes' shrieking and shouting sweet music to his ears as Time and the other older heroes made camp just off of the riverbank, teasing each other and generally messing around.

“Wars, why are you- are you joining us?” Wild cocked his dripping head with a curious look as he watched him.

The undershirt slipped off easily as he waded into the stream’s center. “Of course, you two got me muddy too after all, and it’s not like I trust y’all to actually clean up by-” At the slowly spreading grins on the faces of the three, the captain realizes his mistake. “I don’t trust you all to clean up properly, so I’m-”

“Warriors said ‘y’all’!” Wind chortled, eyes glinting madly as a grin stretched over his face. “Oh boy! Just wait ‘till I-”

“Slip of the tongue.” He clipped back, hands settling on his hips as he stared down the three teens. “You tell Twilight about this and I will personally wash your mouth out with soap.”

“You’re the one who said it!” Hyrule pointed out.

“And whoever tells the rancher is committing a verbal atrocity that will only lead to far more in the future.” He huffed. “No one tells, you hear me?”

Wild looked between the others, brows furrowed and lips pursed as he took in Wind’s triumphant grin and Warriors’ scowl. “What’s wrong with saying ‘y’all’?”

The captain staggered back dramatically, hand on his chest and a horrified expression on his face as he stared at his son. “No! Never say that word! That word is an abomination!”

“What word?” Hyrule cocked his head, eyes glinting knowingly, but the captain failed to recognize it in time.

“’Y’all’!” He spat with contempt. “We do not say ‘y’all’ in this house! ‘Y’all’ is a cursed word and the next person who says it is-” - ‘Is on Mask watching duty’ was his go to consequence, but that wouldn’t exactly work right now; Time was a bit old to actually need a supervisor- “is on clothes washing duty with Legend.” He settled on at last, choosing the chore that everyone except, surprisingly, the veteran minded.

“Say the man who just said it four times in a row.” Wind teased, darting out of his grasp with a wide grin.

“Wind! I was trying to see how many times I could make him say it!” Hyrule huffed, pouting at his brother adorably.

“I still don’t get it.” Wild grumbled. “It’s a word? There’s nothing wrong with it as far as I know, ‘y’a-” The captain’s hand was clamped around the kid’s mouth before he could finish his sentence.

“Let's just not.” Warriors huffed; he was beginning to mourn Twilight’s mentor position at the moment. Fortunately, Wild was willing enough to still in is hands and not push the topic, unlike the other two who just egged each other on with ever widening grins. “Right.” He rolled his eyes. “First one with a clean face gets the strawberry scented soap; go.”

Silence fell as nothing save splashing rang over the stream as faces ducked beneath the water, all three boys falling for his favorite trick of all time. Heck, even the old man would probably still cave to the offer of strawberry soap, even now that he was an adult, and Wars couldn’t blame him at all; strawberry scented bubbles were the best bubbles and Twilight and his goat-milk soap could go sniff a skunk if they wanted to contest that.

It took hardly any time at all for all three to emerge, fresh faces and glowing, three sets of eyes al sparkling up at him as a warm chuckle blossomed in his throat. Naturally, he gave the promised soap to all three, citing the ‘I can’t tell who finished first so you all win’ excuse that Grandfather had taught him ages ago.

Wind dutifully set about scrubbing himself clean, and in the meantime, he guided the less experienced duo. “Take so much,” He dolloped a generous potion into Hyrule’s cupped hands. “And rub your hands together, yes, just like that, work it up to a nice lather and just scrub it all over. Take care you get the smelliest bits first so you don’t run out of soap before you get there, yeah?” Both forest children nodded, dutifully following his instructions as he moved to help scrub the traveler’s sopping curls.

It was an easy pattern to fall into, scrubbing the two heads with especial care to remove any sticks and twigs he found along the way. Hyrule was the easier of the two, but Wild held still better while he worked, almost melting under his fingers as he messaged suds into his son’s long locks, a light smile playing over both their faces as he worked, content to sit in the cooling water of the stream as the sun began to set, hands buried in his kid’s long hair as he worked out mud and filth and who knows what else.

Rinsing the sweet-scented bubbles started out innocently enough, but Wars was given a front row seat to watching an accidental splash descend into a full-on war on the water as he scrubbed his own hair clean, and well, if he joined in once he was finished, well, someone had to show Wind that he wasn’t the only hero with some experience on the water.

Wars sighed as he watched Time stirring quietly on his bedroll.

Honestly, his middle kid (he’d finally settled on letting Wind retain his position on oldest, since there was no way Time could be the eldest brother with his gremlin behavior) was something of an idiot. Oh, he loved all three of his boys dearly, but Time was an ass and everyone who knew him well knew it (except maybe Twilight, but that guy was an ass too).

Time hadn’t been sleeping recently, and it was easy to see in the dark bags around his eyes and the almost drifting expression on his face at nights. It was for lack of trying either, the kid- man? - the hero would settle down on his bedroll every night same as the others, but even with sharp eyes shut tight and blanket pulled to his ears, the ‘Old Man’ couldn’t lie still for more than thirty minutes, constantly shifting and fidgeting on his bedroll even as the other heroes steadily dropped off to sleep.

It was just the two of them now, the captain on watch and their leader trying to pretend he was asleep with a scowl on his face.

He was scratching again.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” war clapped his hands against his knees and pushed himself p, staling over to stand over the largest of the bedrolls and staring down at the lump within. “What’s up, Sprout? You normally snore like a hinox all night long, what’s eating you?”

A single blue eye stared up at him wearily. “If I knew, I would have killed it by now.”

Oof, bad night then. “Do you have any idea what it could be?” He was already settling down next to the group leader’s head, hands reaching to grasp Time’s own and bring them down from where he was, likely unconsciously, clawing at the sides of his face.

“No.” Came the frustrated huff.

“Missing Miss Malon?” He suggested, running his fingers through short blonde hair thoughtfully, mind miles away in a two-story house at castle town as he fell into the all too familiar trap of playing with one of his boys’ hair.

“I thought so at first, and while I do, it doesn’t usually stop me from sleeping.” Time grumbled, staring up at the night sky with pursed lips. “It’s not nightmares or visions either, if anything my dreams have been normal for once.”

“Anxiety perhaps? Are you worrying about the others? Twilight, maybe? Wild?” At the questioning glance he received he shrugged. “Kept me up enough nights, even if you two were there. A bad thing happens once and you're not likely to forget it.”

“Hmm.” Time hummed, leaning unconsciously into his hands and settling on his bed-roll, shoulders falling lax as his single good eyes fluttered softly. “Maybe.”

Whatever it was, it wasn’t bad enough that War’s fingers didn’t put it to rest, and time was asleep in mere minutes, soft snores rumbling over the camp as the captain continued his ministrations, eyes and ears sharp and alert for any disturbance near in within the camp, but body relaxed as he kept the steady rhythm of his fingers through short and silky hair.

When his watch was over though, and it was time to wake the veteran to take his, Wars found himself stuck. Time's fingers were curled tightly in his blue scarf, the man’s head resting easy against his thigh, and any motion small of subtle, would likely send majestic blue fluttering open again with an exhausted air.

Ah well, time to be creative.

Legend grumbled, as usual, at being woken by having his feet touched, and the captain echoed his discomfort as he wrings is sore and likely sprained hand. Time was still asleep though, so there was that at least. Now just to figure out how best to position himself so he could sleep.

Soldier’s experience won over logic, and Wars was asleep in seconds, leaving the camp under Legend’s watch and Time snoozing blissfully at his side.

[hauntedelation]

Repeat

Description - The Hammer proves to utilize surprising ways to settle down after a rough assignment.

Pairing - Black Male Reader x August Walker

A/N - This is my first male reader insert and AW fic! I wasn't sure how I should write the man but I found my August to be a little unpredictable, maybe hard. (Maybe he has some feelings, but he won't tell you what kind.)

Word Count - 2.4k

Warnings - descriptions of blood, wound tending and cleaning, anxiety, surprise fluff and maybe pining? Just partners being partners.

(no real proofreading this time y'all sorry 😅)

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

What he applied to your hand forced a pitiful sound from your body, something like a whimper subdued poorly by you.

By the sickly fluorescent light you can see it, the split that was the palm of your hand. Crimson upon crimson flooded the tissue, renewing again. 

Your insides overturned, and for the first time in your career you averted your eyes. You had to. For a reason you couldn't place your finger on, you knew you shouldn't stare. 

The way your pulse was working more warm liquid out of your hand, his fingers stained and slipping back and forth to tend, you felt unsteady. 

The spaces in your mind were gradually being occupied. So there was no shortage, no problem taking your mind off of it. 

You went back to that first mistake, back to where you foolishly under-packed. This assignment was far, but a swift turnaround. Accordingly, you thought it good to keep the amount of bags you carried to a minimum. 

A good number of things were left, a tool here and there that didn't stand out. You had done it before. One notch carved into the wood and you were null of any mistakes up until this point. 

What you couldn't grasp was that these absent devices were the key to this assignment. It hit like a ton of bricks the moment you were met with the complex screen of a security lock. 

You were deflated when your eyes met the empty space of what could have been the bypass key. There you spent upwards of an hour working through the perimeter of the place.

The next one could have happened regardless, but it didn't make you feel less inept. 

Where you went right when you should have gone left. The opponent you met was just as trained as you were: blank, unrelenting and practiced with a blade. You fell to a place where you were at a strident disadvantage. 

Would you have picked your jugular or your hand? There had to have been something better, a third choice? You should have been faster than that.

You could have.

Still, your hand caught the edge and it wasn't until much later, long after you were walking away that you could feel heat trickling down your fingers.

It's like the movies until it isn't. You've got yourself thrumming, high from the situation. You're locked in and can take anything to your vessel, then you're coming down slow. All the little details enter your mind, focusing and you notice. He noticed, actually.

With the most austere set of eyes you had ever seen, he did. 

Before you were given the chance to sit down he was standing over you, breath hot and charged from the brawl. On the top of your head you could feel it. The fabric of his suit was torn and twisted over his chest, rising and falling with his loosened tie.

He'd backed you to one of the steel tables, squinting through the dim and the dark. You had in mind that you were to be spit in the face, condemned for dragging the job to left-field. The glower had already been there.

You were bracing for it, balling both of your hands. The blunt object in your fingers collided with the brick floor. And it rang out, filling the empty spaces with a loud echo. Soon there was nothing. 

That's how it was seconds after.

A pair of boots brushed against yours before there was a hand capturing your right arm. He'd brought your dripping palm up and opened your curled fingers. Your wound was inspected with cautious eyes, the extent picked apart.

His calluses dragged around the edges of your sticky palm. You sucked in a breath when he had gone a little too close, but he ignored it. There was a drilling leer into your face before he spoke, "You were sloppy." 

The back of your throat had grown bone dry. You took a second, swallowing then pulling your eyes from his hardened face. 

That had been the first time that you'd been told that. Knowing in the very depths of you that this was the beginning to many months of second guessing, wishing you could have done better. 

You don't know why you had let this one go. Everything seemed feasible in the documents, from the time requirement to the objectives. You expected to have gone above and beyond.

That is close to what you told Sloane all those weeks ago,

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

"This one looks like it's going to be less of an issue."

She had her arms crossed in her crisp sleeves, her hip propped against the hardwood of her desk. You were called in to provide an updated report over your assignment, your feelings and projection.

It had gone to the point where you could no longer count on your fingers how many jobs you'd been on. The second anniversary from your first day recently passed, the bouquet still sitting on your dining room table.

You recall being introduced to your boss, the gratification in seeing someone like her in such an esteemed position.

(Someone who reminded you of your mother at times.)

Right then, the woman appeared to be getting ready to give a critical reply. Her brow was curled sharply but you could see the corners of her lips begin to upturn. 

"You have been assigned an associate with this task, agent."

This was of no particular issue. It was not every mission that you collaborated with another. Be that as it may, you've grown accustomed to this practice, it evolved into something that you improved with. This was your dream, and you intended to flourish.

You were sure there was no one you wouldn't be able to work with. 

When your superior uttered the name, 'Walker,' you had asked her to come again. 

"You're up and coming, still figuring things out in this line of work. I'm placing you with my best on this one," Sloane announced.

You withheld any signs of protest in front of her, flashing professional countenance and a nod. She dismissed you with a lingering gaze, most likely holding the same thing in her mind as you were. You kept up the front until you were situated at the chair by your desk. 

Upon your back touching the seat, a sigh was released, one that you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

You wanted to smile at how comical his name sounded. One would have thought you were speaking about an exotic dancer, The Hammer. You didn't think it fit at first. 

He's just a man, but he is the kind that exceeded the weight behind his title. He had discharged far more in his profession by the time you were approaching yours, taking the limits of what an agent could do to the stratosphere.

You could wax poetic about those stories, try to recount those details. But, truthfully there had been such a divide in your experience when compared to his. You could feel the pricks of uncertainty in your chest.

Perhaps you were only afraid.

He'd never once acknowledged your existence until you met on the tarmac the following Tuesday morning. The moon was leaving the twilight sky. Under an orange colored light, shining on the side of his face you could see him check his watch.

And then those eyes flicked over to you, sizing up your bags, your clothes. You think you may have even caught those blue slits drag along certain parts of you.

Your voice was weak, coughing low in your throat you tried to press out, "It's nice to finally meet, Mr. Walker."

(Ah, Mr Walker? You wanted to flinch, but you found no time.)

Then you provided him your name with a reluctant hand. It took far more composure on not showing the tremor in your limb but when the man peered down at you, securing your hand with a firm shake you knew. 

He'd felt how clammy your skin was. 

That mustache made a microscopic twitch, "Call me August, and, ditto."

⊱ ───────────── ⊰

You allowed your hand to remain elevated, but your period of self-loathing was eventually disturbed. 

The sensation of his large hands appeared, firm and wrapping around your waist before hoisting you on the surface of the steel table. There was a soft thud from your good hand landing to bear your shift in weight.

It was then that you froze, ears pricking to that steady footfall departing from the table.

You listen and—what?

What crosses your mind is maybe you hit your head back there, sometime during taking that grunt to the floor. Yet, you don't feel anything, no pounding in your skull. The musing is washed away the moment the flicker of a pale-green light shines above.

The room is revealed to have been an abandoned kitchen of sorts. Pots and pans layered in a thin veil of dust with more grime to compliment. With your good hand you wipe at the sweat falling down your temple, you'd become a little hot. 

Glass crumbles underneath his boots, he rotates his back around to you with a small kit that strongly resembles the one you stored in your bag. 

The white plastic had your name scrawled on there in your handwriting. While you could sit there wondering how August retrieved that, you are still processing the way the man picked you up. How he brought you up like you were made of feathers. Why he…

He comes in real close, your vision floods with a view of his chest, his gloved hands shedding away the garment and laying them on the metal surface.

The soft click of the first aid box click echoes out, and under the hum of the lights above August murmurs down to you, 

"At least you had enough sense to pack this."

His tone is the same, puncturing only not quite as breathy. The rise and fall of his chest had slowed far more, the dark curls on his chest soaking in the sweat running down his skin. And you blink, not realizing how enthralling the sight is.

Your pulsing hand is taken again, gingerly, by a pair of rough hands. You brace yourself on the edge of the table upon seeing the clear liquid bottle.

He's cleaning your wound throughly and you're trying not to take it like a kicked puppy. Through grit teeth, "You think I could skip stitches this time?" They never were your favorite.

"No dice," he breaths out, placing the bottle of alcohol down next to your thigh.

"You about had your hand sliced in half, Agent. You're lucky anyway. But,"

The needle and thread is pulled out, more cleansing and draining. Rinse and repeat. Walker was moving quickly, probably sensing the adrenaline in you draining by the minute.

Your communication devices buzz in unison, you don't have time to check your screen for any updates before he reaches with one hand in his pocket to retrieve his.

He sets your hand down on your own thigh and you listen to his voice shift to a formal tone. The female voice on the other line, (Sloane most likely) sounds curt and questioning. 

Your stomach begins to roll in circles. Your fingers wrapped around the table's edge tighten around the metal, almost enough to leave marks.

Through those training sessions all those months, you learned to properly squash any threats of anxiety, distraction. You could feel yourself slipping, your body seizing up in front of the man. Walker seemed to have been approaching the height of his conversation with your boss, shifting so the phone rests between his ear and shoulder. 

In the meantime, you were breathing. That familiar rhythm, flowing in and out, counting. You fall into the headspace that you became acquainted with all too well. 

You lost yourself in it, not realizing that Walker was dissolving Sloane's interrogation. Every syllable. The way in which his voice formed the words was unknowingly steadying your brain, calming your heart rate down slowly. 

All the while taking your wounded hand was taken in his, he set about cleaning it one more time before starting to close it with the thread. 

"Yes ma'am. No, he had everything in his detail under control...Yes. That's correct. The only slip up had been breaching the security wall but we successfully infiltrated."

You could feel the sharp pricks in your skin, your arm tensing after each pull to the string when closing the wound. Eventually Walker drifted, and your eyes landed on the semi-clean criss cross stitching in the palm of your hand. 

The man's eyes were dead set on his handiwork, narrowing on the lines before clearing his throat to part ways with your boss. There was a, "We will report back upon leaving this location."

He hung up the phone, and slid the device next to your thigh. You didn't think anything of it, only Walker's hand didn't leave where his phone was sitting. And you were encircled, the fabric of his shirt practically enticing his body closer to yours.

It had been a number of seconds before you could bring yourself back. The same exercise was reaching its tail end, and maybe, just maybe you could believe Sloane would not chew you a new one when you return.

Those words, It's okay, you tried your best. Everyone has bad days. You said them once again, inaudible and only in your mind. The room at this point only held the echo of the cars outside, Walker's heavy boots shifting before—

His fingertips were cold against your jaw, you almost jumped away from him. You should have, what was he doing? His thigh brushed so light against your knee, and when he guided your eyes up, you saw him already peering at your damp face.

Everything about the man's face was blank. Thick brows, lips hidden under a bushy trail of hair, all set in a firm line. You made no attempt to divert, you weren't sure he would let you. You had been planted there, decided by him your next move would be included.

Then those words fell silent. 

His fingertips pushed up your jaw, against the grain of your facial hair growing there. Then you felt him cup your cheek, strong hands dragging along your skin. 

Walker used his thumb to brush against your temple, wiping away something sticky. Red tint coated the little grooves in his skin and he pulled away, wiping his digit on the material of your pants. His tone was far more entertained then,

"Looks like you hit your head back there."

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Taglist - @mansaaay @hope-to-hell @feralrunaway @thetaoofzoe @luclittlepond @madbaddic7ed @brandycranby @emyearns

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[pedropascallovebot]

Let's Kill Tonight

summary: You're a bit out of practice, but being entrusted with the retrieval and return of Helmut Zemo shouldn't be too hard, right? Even if he is your old sorta-boss and you still are nursing unfortunate loyalty towards the team. You can manage. And him being... slightly more attractive than how you last left him won't be a problem.

Right?

warnings and a/n: i have.... no clue what this is if not a complete rewrite of mcu canon purely for self-indulgence. reader has a kinda shady past and in result will talk graphically about violence in later chapters and there's lots of gun action in this one. very fun, very cool! alright. i hope y'all enjoy teehee

—

The weather where you're at doesn’t usually vary much from a sunny sky, but alas, you’re absolutely drenched by the time you step inside the diner. You hadn’t expected the rain. Your usual five minute walk to work turned into a hike through muddy sidewalks and water droplets that kept hitting your eyes, and by the time you tied your apron around your waist the day felt over before it even started. Your boss gives you a closed-lip smile and glances at your empty section of tables, and you just know you’re going to be late on rent again.

For what it’s worth, Lüleburgaz isn’t the worst place to slip under the radar. It’s not underpopulated by any means, but it makes it perfect to blend in with the crowd as best you can. Honestly, you're just trying to make it a day without a proper therapist. Your roommates are great listeners, don't get it twisted- but all they really know about you is you're Sokovian and they don't really need to hear about the stuff that happened before your country was crushed by some guys in tights and iron suits. They don't ask you much, and you're grateful.  After an unfortunate five-year gap in employment (which isn’t your fault- it’s kinda hard to find jobs when you’re reduced to dust unexpectedly) you were lucky to find somewhere that was willing to hire you without a legally issued identification card and that was also willing to pay in cash under the table. You broke out the books and attempted to learn the language as best as you can, and while you're struggling a bit, you can at least understand the menu and what a customer is ordering. It was far from ideal- ideal would be completely erasing any trace of memory regarding you and your… history, so to speak, from anybody who has the potential to be a threat to you. Ideal could also be an island somewhere, maybe Praslin or Nassau, where you could swim in clear waters and drink copious amounts of fancy fruity drinks instead of whatever liquor your roomies had hiding under the counter. But until that happens, being on the sorta-run for some questionable past career choices seems to stick.

Said questionable career choices led you to be introduced to a network of interesting people, some less horrible than others, but all of them carried the same unmistakable signal of danger displayed in flashing lights above their heads. When you hear the bell to the restaurant door jingle, signaling the arrival of someone new, that weird gut feeling activates and your eyes flicker up to see a pair of high heels and sunglasses, even though the sun hasn’t been out all day. Everyone else eating their food don’t even spare a glance to the door. This should comfort you, it should tell you that you're fine and that there's nothing to worry about, but it absolutely doesn’t and suddenly you’re inconspicuously making your way to the back, muttering something to your boss about taking your break early. Ripping off your apron, you throw it to the side and let it land on the ground next to you, and you lean your head against the brick wall behind you. Your fingers are twitching as the pressing issue of impending doom continues to rise in your gut. You barely register the creaking sound of the back gate opening.

“Do you want a cigarette?” Suddenly, you’re in fighting stance as an unfamiliar voice speaks less than a foot away from your ear. You don’t recognize this new face, but she looks expensive and entirely too out of place for a diner that receives in its eggs already prepared and frozen.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” she continues, and fishes a lighter and pack out of her coat pocket. “Good choice. These things will kill you- and so will this godawful food you serve here. What a relief that after today you won’t step foot in this place ever again, huh?”

Your mouth opens to say something, but you decide against it. Instead, you slightly lower your fists, keeping your eyes trained on her seemingly unbothered expression. She takes a long drag of her cigarette before giving you any more information. The silence is deafening, and you mentally take note of the clear path you have through the open fence and towards the street if you chose to run. Something tells you this lady didn’t arrive here on foot though, and she probably had an expensive vehicle waiting out front waiting to catch up to you if you chose to make a break for it.

“You’re jumpy- probably a little bit out of practice from the whole ex-assassin thing, right? I can work with that. I have to applaud you: as far as hide and seek spots go, this wasn’t horrible. We’ll have to improve your people skills, but-“

“Who are you?”

You grow increasingly frustrated as it starts to sprinkle again, leaving you cold and wet as your company opens an umbrella she had previously stored away in her coat.

“I don’t like being interrupted, so let’s not make it a habit, hm? My name is Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, and you’ve become annoyingly important to my cause. Come on, we’re leaving.”

She begins to walk towards the gate, but you stay put, beginning to toy with the idea of unsheathing the knife stored in your boot.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, lady.”

This makes her turn around and sigh in frustration.

“The way I see it, you have two choices. Go back and finish bussing tables so you can make an extra couple dollars, or come with me so we can talk real business. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only one between the two of us that poses a threat. I’m not the one with weapons hidden in my clothes, am I?”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t argue. Instead, you hesitantly join her in her path towards a gaudy car (you knew it) that looks way too out of place to be in this parking lot. For a split second you consider going back and giving your manager somewhat of a notice of your absence, but Valentina’s walking so fast that you don’t really have time to continue considering.

“By the way, I distinctively said my name is Valentina Allegra de Fontaine- I don’t like to repeat myself, don’t make me do it again.”

-

You barely have time to sit down before Valentina is barking directions at her driver and scolding you for getting rain water in her backseat. You remain silent, and a little bit uncomfortable as Val finishes her cigarette completely before bothering to inform you of whatever the hell she’s got going on.

“Tell me what you know about super soldiers,” she finally gives, crossing her legs and glances at you expectantly.

You search her face for any kind of indication that she’s kidding, but she seems serious. It kinda feels like your soul is being stared into and you want to look away but you can’t. What does she not know about super soldiers that she can learn from you and not from literally anywhere else? Admittedly, all you know is what clips of newspapers would give you. Something about rogue experimentation, something-something Winter Soldier, and then, most recently, the Flag-Smashers and the rumors flying around that they've got some serum floating around. All of this seemed to be public knowledge though. Nothing a woman who’s willing to corner people in the backlots of their jobs couldn’t find out from a simple Google search.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“I can’t say I know much.”

For what feels like the millionth time in the span of twenty minutes, she sighs, bringing out her cell phone and starts punching some buttons.

“And what about this man? Does he ring a bell?”

You do your absolute best to not look as tense as you feel when out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar face in a tiny, grainy picture. She shoves the device in your hands, and right there center of the screen is-

“Zemo, right? That was a trick question. Hard to forget the face of your old boss, I’d assume.”

Suddenly, you’re upright in your seat, the earlier feeling of danger settling right back into place. Valentina, of course, just lets out a laugh, while you’re planning on swan-diving out the damn window.

“The Colonel isn’t my boss,” you protest, and a burning sensation makes its way to your throat.

“Isn’t he though?” Valentina is now fully turned towards you, her hand reaching to grab the phone back. More buttons are pressed, and she’s reading your name from an official looking online database. “It says here you’re wanted in a lot of countries, huh? I wonder why that is- oh, look at this, would you? Seems like your name and EKO Scorpion are mentioned in the same sentence at least three times just on this page.”

Your eyes narrow, and you waste no more time in grabbing your gun from your coat pocket, and Valentina seems to have the same idea, the phone  in her hands is now replaced with a much newer and nicer pistol than you’re carrying. It’s silent in the car for a few seconds, and the driver in the front dares not move a muscle. Val is the first to break, and she lowers her weapon with a shit-eating grin you’re growing tired of seeing.

“Let’s start over. You’re associated with an elite death squad assigned to defend the interests of a country that’s no more than a pile of rubble and dead memorial flowers on the ground. You never had an official invitation, but they paid you good enough money for you to get your hands dirty for them. Too bad that without a leader, your little syndicate fell apart, didn’t it? Unfortunate, what happened to him really. And how inconvenient it must have been for you- I’m sure the law doesn’t usually side with individuals associated with terrorists. Luckily for you, you had a five-year break from being on the run.”

The urge to fall back into old form and pull the trigger at the slightest sign of trouble starts to rear its ugly head, but you take a deep breath and try to align your focus to your current situation. This doesn’t have to be deadly. She knows your history, she knows your name. She could just be blackmailing you. Easy fix, offer her better information on individuals that are far, far away from you. You’re sure you can think of something juicy enough to entertain her and fray her interest in you. This doesn’t have to end in a gunshot. She has access to all of the shit you’ve done. You don’t know what she knows. She could be from the American government. Kill her, and lessen the risk of being thrown in a prison cell to rot.You’re desperate, and you’re scared, and it’s making you vulnerable. You take another deep breath in, and lower your gun.

“What do you want?” Valentina falls back into her seat, clearly very amused by the entire situation now that guns weren’t drawn.

“The Flag-Smashers are becoming increasingly difficult as they’re forming alliances with seemingly every gang of mercenaries for hire. The serum belongs in the hands of someone who knows what to do with it, don’t you think?”

This lady is clearly out of her mind, but you’re too far in now and you don’t feel like questioning her on her morals or the ethics of this situation.

“I don’t want any business with Morganthau, and I don’t care about super soldiers. If that’s all you need me for, you might as well find someone else.”

“Who said anything about you dealing with Flag-Smashers? No, for you,” she starts, grabbing the phone once more and resuming that annoying clicking as she searches through various links, “I have a slightly less… hazardous task. No killing involved, sadly. I’m sure your lovely skillset will keep until it’s needed, but you will be finding Zemo for me, where I can pay him far too much money so he’ll kill the Flag-Smashers for me.”

It’s your turn to laugh, now. “In case you haven’t heard, Helmut Zemo is rotting away in prison for the rest of his life. How is he going to be of any help to you?”

Valentina doesn’t bother giving you a verbal response, just shoves that damn phone in your face again. You glare at her before your eyes skim over the article. Breakout. Zemo. The Falcon. Prison. You curse internally, and she lets her arm fall back to her side. You realize you haven’t been paying too much attention to where the driver was taking you both until you feel the vehicle holt to a stop, and you look up to realize you’re in a parking garage, and the faint sounds of airplanes fly overhead.

“As of now, you and I are a two-man team, but this won’t be the case for long. Zemo is with Sam Wilson and James Barnes in a safehouse in Riga. You and I aren’t the only ones looking for him, however, which makes your job a little tricky, but I don’t have much faith in the guy assigned in returning him to Berlin.”

“Who is he?”

“I assume the name John Walker doesn’t need an explanation?”

You shake your head.

“Walker can be of use to us, and we’re gonna need him- just not yet. What I need from you at the current moment is to make sure you get to these coordinates,” the driver is suddenly handing you a slip of paper with numbers scribbled on it, and you take it, “before Walker gets Zemo.”

You inhale, and Valentina gives you a look.

“I assume you have a question?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to get Walker on your side sooner? Maybe if you could say the right thing, persuade him to bring Zemo to us-"

Valentina cuts you off with a scoff. “What? That if we tell Captain America to hand over an international prisoner so we can extract information and hire him to kill for us he’ll do it? Walker wants one thing right now: he wants that serum. Coincidentally, your friend Zemo wants that serum gone. IF we get to him first, which you will, he’ll be more than happy to oblige. Walker is at a tipping point, but he’s not useful to us. Yet. We just have to wait until he's vulnerable.”

She takes your silence as an okay to continue. “Get to Latvia, find Zemo. Use that pretty face of yours to charm him into coming with you, maybe share some war stories around the campfire. I don’t give a damn how you get it done. Walker’s already halfway there by now.”

You are really starting to question how Valentina is getting her information, but before you can say anything else, she’s motioning for her driver to slide another piece of paper in your hand. Your eyes go wide at the numbers listed after a dollar sign.

“I assume this would be enough to cover your services?”

You look up at her, nodding your head slightly.

“Half now, half when you bring him to me,” she finishes, and the driver is unlocking your side of the car. “It looks like we’re in business then.”

[imma-fucking-nerd]

Deadly Daisies

(Connor x Reader)

A/N: this is gunna be the first oneshot featuring my oc Carol! Hope y'all like her and don't mind if I add her as a supporting character in future fics.

——————————————

It was an ordinary day at the prescinct, just you minding your own business filling out reports and such. Everything was calm, and okay. You could almost pretend nothing was wrong. As long as you kept calm and short breaths everything was fine and you would be able to focus on getting your work done. The last thing you needed was Fowler on your ass.

Your eyes were glued to the screen and you had your headphones on, blasting whatever music you were in the mood for. It helped block out the rest of the world and the problems it held. But sadly you would be ripped from your serene place when a tap at your should made you flinch. You whipped your head around and took off your headphones, eyes wide.

"I apologize (Y/n), I didn't mean to startle you."

You immediately relaxed in your chair when you recognized your favorite android, Connor. A nervous chuckle escaped you and you cleared your throat.

"It's okay, Connor. I was just in the zone and wasn't expecting it," you reassured him with a warm smile.

He returned the smile as best he could, which turned out to be very awkward and very adorable. It was hard to ignore the ever growing burning sensation in your lungs. Your (e/c) eyes returned to the screen, but you weren't retaining any of the information you were looking at. Not looking at him made it easier to hold back from letting a cough slip.

"So, whaddya need?" you asked him, your eyes flicking back to him for a split second.

"I brought you this," Connor set down a styrofoam cup of coffee onto your desk next to your hand.

You smiled as you saw the little cup be placed and you looked back up to him, "that's very sweet, thank you Connor."

It wasn't unusual for Connor to bring you coffee or little snacks without you even asking him. Yet each time it made your cheeks become a shade darker and the feeling of fluttering butterflies erupting in your stomach. But it wasn't long until those warm feelings were overshadowed by the overwhelming urge to cough. Your lings begging for you to be allowed to release the foreign object.

It soon became too much and you had to cough into your arm. Luckily, this time there was no residues left on your sweater. You doubted you'd be so lucky next time. In your peripherals you noticed Connor tilt his head curiously at you. You knew better than to hope he wouldn't think anything of it.

"(Y/n), is everything alright?" his LED shifted to amber and you tensed, hoping to whatever god there was he wasn't about to scan you.

You opened your mouth to assure him you were fine but before you could get a word out you were interrupted by a feminine voice.

"My apologies (Y/n), but may I borrow Connor for a moment? I'm in need of a second opinion on a case I'm working on," Carol, the RK700 spoke with a polite smile.

"Sure, I should get back to work anyways," you replied, returning a half smile to her.

Carol was new to the prescinct despite being an older model in the RK series to both Conan and Connor. A 'gift' from Elijah Kamski, as he put it. You didn't know much about her, but she was nice enough. She reminded you of Connor with her big, curious chocolatey brown doe eyes. Even her hair color was the same deep coffee brown. Although her hairstyle quite differed. She had straight bangs that were cut just above her brow, and the rest of her hair was cut just below her jaw. Not a hair out of place. In other words, she was just as perfect as the rest of her siblings.

There was nothing inherently wrong with her, aside from the fact her and Connor were practically inseparable. Yes, you were aware they worked best when combining their specializations. But it was like they were made for each other. Like no matter what you did you'd never amount to her. It made it harder to breath though about how Connor must have liked her better.

As if on cue, your body was wracked with a coughing fit. It felt like your lungs were being constricted. You covered your mouth and tried desperately to stop yourself from coughing any more. The sudden burst of coughs gained yourself attention you didn't want. Especially from Connor and Carol. Their eyes on you made you stand from your chair abruptly, nearly knocking it over in the process. Carol flinched at the sudden movement and Connor's eyes widened slightly.

"(Y/n) are you alright?-" Connor went to take a step towards you but you hastily rushed passed him and to the bathroom.

The two androids shared a puzzled glance to each other, their LED's flickering yellow as they tried to figure out what just happened.

Once you entered the bathroom you hunched over the sink. You heaved and coughed as you felt your body trying to regurgitate something from your lungs. With each couch and heave you felt the object craw up your windpipe. After a few final coughs you managed to hack out whatever it was suffocating you.

Looking down into the sink your glossy, tear-brimmed (e/c) eyes landed on a white daisy, speckled and stained with blood. You stared at the little flower in horror, trying to blink away the tears before they fell. Your breathing was heavy as your lungs attempted to steady it's intake of oxygen. With a shaky hand you reached out and plucked the daisy from the sink.

Daisies. A sign a innocence and purity. Traits that aligned with the cause of the disease that now plagued you. The android that caused it. The person. 

You were the victim of a very rare disease. Hanahaki disease. A disease in which flowers bloom and grow within a victims lungs. Specifically victims experiencing unrequited love. In other words, it occurred the moment you realized you were in love with Connor, and when you realized he would never feel the same.

However, this time was first time you had hacked up a full flower. You've only ever came across petals. The blood on the other hand, that was nothing new. It was actually the first symptom you were faced with. Or at least the first one that made you worried. The real first symptom that occurred was the shortness of breath whenever you though about Connor.

Sighing, you shoved the flower in your pocket before turning on the sink to wash away the remaining blood. After turning off the sink you looked up to meet your own eyes. You were paler than usual, and you had a little blood staining your lips.

You heard the door to the bathroom suddenly open and you quickly wiped your mouth, grateful the red liquid wouldn't be visible on your black sweater. The clicking of heels echoed through the bathroom but you kept your eyes glued down into the sink.

"(Y/n)? Are you alright?"

Sighing, you glanced up at the mirror to meet Carol's curious eyes staring at you, her head tilted slightly to the side. It reminded you of Connor. And just like that it suddenly felt harder to breathe. Your eyes flicked back down to the sink.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Think I'm just coming down with a cold or something," you said softly, cursing at yourself for how hoarse your voice sounded.

Carol moved to stand beside you, tilting her head slightly to get a better look at you. Her brows knit together and her LED shifted from the stagnant blue to a blinking amber. From the corner of your eye you saw her reach into the sink before bringing it up to her mouth. Your body tensed and you hoped that she didn't just do what you thought she did.

"Then may I ask why there are traces of your blood in the sink?"

The question made your already tense body become even more rigid. You griped the edged of the sink until your knuckles turned white. A deafening silence filled the bathroom as you refused to answer the question. How could you even begin to answer that?

Before you could have the chance to explain yourself, you glanced up to see Carol's face in the mirror once more. Her LED was blinking amber rapidly and her expression was one of confusion. Suddenly, you see her eyes widen and her features soften. When she shifted her gaze to meet yours, you swore you saw a hint of sadness.

"Were you aware of the disease that resides in your lungs?" Her voice was low and soft.

It almost sounded genuine, like she actually cared. You knew she was deviant, but even so why would she care?

You only gave a short nod in response, lowering your head to avoid her gaze.

"How long?" she asked, the same softness to her voice.

"A few weeks maybe. I'm not too sure," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Carol's brows knit together at that piece of information. From what she knows, the disease will most likely become life threatening within another few weeks if left untreated. She also found out what the cause of it was. Silence once again fell between the two of you and you wondered what she was thinking about. It took longer this time before Carol was once again the one to break the silence.

"It's Connor, isn't it?" it was more of a confirmation of what she had put together rather than an actual question.

Another nod was your only answer.

"Why haven't you gotten the surgery yet? Are you unable to afford it financially?" she queried, tilting her head curiously.

"No, no.... That's not an option," you answered, you yourself not even knowing the real answer.

The surgery was the first thing you looked into once you found out what was wrong with you. But when you found out the cost, and not of the actual surgery, you couldn't go through with it. Despite how much pain you were in, you hated the idea of feeling nothing at all. For some reason that was beyond you, you still held some hope.

"Is there a particular reason why?"

You shook your head, "I just.... I just can't."

You could feel your throat tightening and your eyes stung as tears formed. The last thing you wanted was for Connor to know. Yes, like Carol, he was deviant but that didn't mean he would cure you. It was strange how you were so sure of that, and yet you still had hope. If only subconsciously.

A soft sigh could be heard from the android by your side and you suddenly felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"If you aren't willing to undergo the surgery, you'll die," she said it as though you didn't already know.

"Yeah, I'm aware," you turned your head to face her for the first time she came in as you spoke.

Her eyes widened and the corners of her lips tugged down into a small frown. You could see the confusion in her eyes, but you didn't expect her to understand.

"Then I suggest you tell him," she proposed.

Now it was your eyes that widened, "N-No! I can't do that either. And you can't tell him either!"

You turned your whole body to face her and grabbed her by the shoulders.  The sudden action made her flinch slightly.

"Please- Please, don't tell him!" you begged, tears brimming your eyes.

Carol's expression looked as if she were torn. Her LED flickered wildly as she tried to decide what was the best option.

"Why are you so opposed to the idea (Y/n)?" she asked, hoping to gather more information to help.

Your eyes dropped down to the floor and your grip on her shoulders loosened. The tears that had built up finally falling down your face.

"Because it won't make a difference," you choked out.

"And what brought you to that conclusion?" her head tilted as she tried to figure out your reasoning.

The question made you let go of her completely and turn your back to her. You wrapped your arms around yourself and squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears.

"You."

It was a simple answer. One which only made Carol more confused. What did she have anything to do with it? Had she done something wrong? She was just about to ask you to elaborate when suddenly it clicked. The realization made her blink a couple of times, not quite sure if she was even correct. Because she knew for a fact that if she was right in her hypothesis, she knew it meant you were dead wrong.

"Forgive me but," she paused for a moment and moved around you to face you before continuing, "Could it be that you think that Connor and I and romantically involved?"

She was met with nothing but silence in return, but that was answer enough for the android. Gently, she grabbed your arm and turned you back around to face her. She rested her ands on both your shoulders and tilted her head to catch your gaze.

"(Y/n), I can assure you that is not the case. Connor is my family, there is nothing romantic between us and there never will be," she offered you a reassuring smile.

Her words must have been enough to convince you because you hesitantly nodded.

"O-Okay..." your voice came out small, barely audible but Carol heard you perfectly.

Her smile widened and she let go of you, straightening her posture.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I should be getting back to work," she said, giving a curt nod before heading back to the door.

She reached out and took the handle but didn't open the door yet, turning her head to look at you over your shoulder, "I'll let Connor know you're alright. He was the one who asked me to check on you after all. But I really do advise you tell him. If you don't, I will have to on your behalf."

With that, she opened the bathroom door and swiftly made her exit. You stared at the door with mixed feelings that were on opposite sides of whatever spectrum. The most prominent emotion you were experiencing was fear. Fear that you would have to come clean to Connor, fear that you wouldn't be able to ignore this problem because if you did Carol would tell him. You didn't blame her really, but that didn't mean you had to like what she was forcing you into.

Then, there was the confusing part. The part that made that hope you clung to so desperately feel validated. She said he was the one who sent her in here after you. Was he worried about you? Did he care about you? Could that mean he might have been able to love you?

You didn't take any more time to think about it before you figured you should get back to work as well. Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, making sure all evidence of your little incident was gone. You stuffed your hands in your pockets as you made your way to the door but stopped in your tracks when you felt the soft petals of a daisy. After a brief pause you exited the bathroom, your fingers fiddling with the flower.

As you made your way back to your desk you saw Carol speaking with Connor. Connor was the first to spot you and you offered him a tiny smile, but when you saw Carol's expectant expression it dropped. Your eyes dropped to the floor and you sighed heavily before changing your course to where the androids were standing. Might as well get it over with as soon as possible.

As you approached the two you nervously thumbed over the daisy that stayed hidden in your pocket.

"Hello (Y/n), how are you?" Connor greeted.

"I uh, I'm alright," there was a slight pause where you glanced over to Carol, she gave you a little nod and an encouraging smile and you continued, "I actually wanted to talk to you about something. If you aren't busy."

Your eyes flicked everywhere except for his face, your words were rushed and low. This behaviour made Connor's head tilt in curiosity and a bit of worry. He looked over his shoulder to Carol, who spoke up.

"Don't worry I'll handle the reports."

"I would appreciate that, thank you Carol," he said to as she left to go sit at her desk.

Connor's eyes then went back to you, "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Can we um- Can we go somewhere more private?" you asked, looking up at him shyly.

"Of course," Connor agreed without a second thought.

He gestured for you to follow him as he lead the way down the hall. He led you to a free interrogation room, peeling back his artificial skin to open the door. Like the gentleman he was, he gestured for you to enter first. You couldn't help but see the irony of being in the interrogation room, seeing as you were about to do some confessing. Once the door was closed Connor turned to give you his undivided attention.

"Is everything alright, (Y/n)?" he took a step towards you, his voice laced with worry.

"Yeah I-" you started automatically and you had to stop yourself mid sentence with a sigh.

"No, not really. That's.... That's what I wanted to talk to you about..." you trailed off, not exactly sure how to go about this.

You wished you had more time to think about what to say before you were put into this position. Then again, you weren't sure anything you thought of would have felt good enough.

"What's wrong?" Connor immediately asked, fully prepared to do everything in his power to fix whatever the problem was.

It was a mistake to glance up and meet his soft, worry stricken. Because without warning, you were being attacked by another violent fit of coughs. Connor's eyes widened in suprise and his LED shifted to amber. He rushed to your side and placed his hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles in hopes of helping.

When the coughing finally seemed to cease you felt Connor lightly take your chin in his other hand and tilt your head up to him. He noticed the blood on your lips immediately, and he didn't need to do any sampling to know that wasn't a good sign. The detective android wasted no more time scanning you, determined to figure out what was wrong.

Your eyes dropped to the floor and you felt your throat tightening again. Tears burned your eyes from the mixture of the emotional and physical pain. You needed a moment before you would tell him what was going on. But when you finally met his eyes again you saw a look of realization wash over his perfect features you got the idea he figured it out himself.

"You have Hanahaki disease."

His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and held an air of disbelief. You nodded, confirming that what he found out was true. He didn't need to ask to know it was him who was the cause. Hank told him about your not so subtle crush constantly but he just didn't believe it. Connor never thought you'd like an android, let alone him.

Suddenly, Connor pulled you into his chest. He snaked an arm around your waist and rested his hand at the small of your back, while his other hand cupped the back of your head. Hesitantly, you brought your hands up to grip his jacket.

"I'm so sorry (Y/n). This is all my fault," he whispered guiltily, his chin resting on the top of your head.

You shook your head slightly, taking in a shaky breath, "Don't worry about it, I-I get it..."

"No, you dont," he cut you off, his lips tugging down into a frown.

You tilted your head slightly to look at him quizzically with an eyebrow raised. You were about to ask him what he meant when he moved his hand from your head and cupped your cheek. Heat started to rise up into your cheeks and you swallowed thickly, watching him with wide eyes.

"This should never have happened," he said quietly, seemingly to himself.

"C-Connor?" you breathed out his name.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and your stomach felt like it was doing flips. The strange thing was that your lungs didn't seem to burn or feel like they were being constricted. But you were too distracted with Connor leaning down to press his forehead to yours, your noses brushing against each other.

"I wish you would have told me sooner. I could have helped you sooner," his voice was apologetic and the regret in his eyes damn near broken your heart.

When your expression remained confused about what he was getting at, Connor let out an unnecessary sigh.

"I love you, (Y/n). I'm sorry it took me so long to realize, and I'm sorry you had to suffer because of it," he confessed.

At those three little words you waited oh so long to hear, your eyes widened even more. And when Connor leaned down to press his lips to yours your breath hitched. You immediately melted into the kiss, letting your eyes flutter closed. Your hands gripped his jacket tighter, scared that if you let go he'd disappear.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but that was all you needed. When Connor leaned back from you ever so slightly you took a deep breath. The first breath you took in months that didn't hurt, or give you the urge to cough at all. Tears of happiness and overall emotional exhaustion spilled from your eyes and you buried your face in his chest.

You could finally breathe. You were cured. No longer would you have to go on pretending you weren't being torn from the inside out. You could finally look at Connor without any fear. More importantly, your hope of Connor loving you back had been rewarded.

You would be glad if you never saw another daisy for the rest of your days.

————————————————

A/N: man i feel like the end sucks rip. Anyways I always loved the concept of hanahaki disease tbh.

[wienerbarnes]

Left for Dead (1/2)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,803

Warnings: mentions to bombs and mission stuff, mentions to past torture

A/N: a lil two parter! I'm def a shorter writer so I split up reader’s first mission as opposed to posting like a 5k one shot (unless y'all dig that better for the future???) I’m gonna queue the second part to post on Friday idk what time but otherwise we all know id forget... so. enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

It was finally time for your first mission. The night before, F.R.I.D.A.Y. prompted you with the fact that there would be a briefing this morning at 8 A.M. You’d figured the superheroes weren’t the type to sleep in.

As much as you’d been enjoying the return of your clothes, you figured it’d be safest to keep the black-on-black outfit for these briefings and anything else you’d be involved in. Attention is not necessarily something you’d want to draw on yourself right now.

You finally find the room you’re supposed to be in and find about eighty other agents. A wave of anxiety rushes through you and you feel your stomach churn. You want to look around and find someone you recognize but Sam is the only one you see; you don’t know anybody. You’re scared to talk to new people, to have small talk, you’re scared of what they’ll say to you, if they’ll remember your face from the news.

You see near the front a blonde head of hair - Sharon. You haven’t spoken to her, but she’d be the safest bet, except there’s no empty seat on either side of her. She’s conversing with a woman with ginger hair to her left and a large body with short brown hair occupies the seat to her right - Bucky!

You notice there’s an empty seat next to him and quickly make your way over before your luck diminishes and someone takes it.

Bucky registers somebody take a seat next to him, which surprises him because most of the agents are still a little scared of him after spending seven weeks training with him. He certainly doesn’t treat them like shit, but he doesn’t baby them, either. He almost doesn’t notice it’s you when he glances up; he forgot you’ve changed your look a bit.

The tattoo on your next is covered with makeup, the angry face too much of an identifying feature. He knows you hate it and were planning on getting it covered anyway. You’ve removed all of your piercings and all of the tiny holes remain empty along your ears. You’ve managed to keep the tiny stud in your nose, though. Your hair is a jet black color now and it shines in the light. How has your hair survived that many dye jobs? Stupid rules for this job; no brightly colored hair or large body modifications, excluding tattoos. Draws too much attention.

He can sense your anxiety next to him; your heart is beating a mile a minute and you’re super tense. He wants to say something, do something to make you feel a bit better, put you at ease, but he can’t think of anything before Sam calls the attention of the room.

“Morning, everyone. NCIS has requested our help with finding a bomb on a Navy ship and figuring out the identity of the woman who told them about said bomb,”

Images flash up behind him projecting pictures of said woman, looking scared with a bloodied bandage on her forehead. She has a fluffy pixie-cut style dark hair and pale skin, or perhaps her skin is pale in comparison to the caked blood matted on her head. Her eyes are a bright green with minimal wrinkles adorning the outer corners. She couldn’t be older than thirty-five.

“A citizen driving by saw her wandering about the street next to a forest and when he approached her she claimed she was buried alive and couldn’t provide any information about herself; not her name, age, where she came from, or who buried her. All she kept repeating was something about a bomb on a Navy ship that was going to kill a lot of people.” Sam continues.

“I’ll be sending some of you out to Rock Creek Park to scope out the scene and some of you to Georgetown University Hospital to talk to Jane Doe. You’re dismissed but await further instruction and be prepared to ship out.” Sam finishes and everyone begins to stand, engaging in small conversations as they exit the room.

You begin to stand and follow suit but a metal hand reaches out in front of you to encourage you to take your seat once more. You throw a confused look over at Bucky, but he’s not looking at you. You glance over to Sharon, who’s staring down at her phone, and to Sam who is flicking through the file in his hands. The four of you, you notice, are the only ones still in their seats, and you quickly make the connection that you’re supposed to wait until the rest of the agents leave after a briefing.

Maybe they’re gonna haze you, newbie. You roll your eyes at that little voice as the door shut and hear it lock audibly.

The three of them glance up and stare at you expectantly. You glance between all three of them before you give up on figuring out what exactly they’re waiting for.

“Are you guys gonna haze me?”

Sharon smirks and Bucky full on chuckles at your question as Sam clarifies, “Do you see anything?”

“Oh! Oh, right, right. Uhm… It kind of doesn't work like - um, I’ll try. I’ll try and concentrate.” You excuse, and close your eyes to force yourself into that mindset.

Most of your visions happen unexpectedly and randomly, otherwise you need to put yourself in a kind of entranced state of concentration in order to, essentially, force a vision. Forcing it is usually what causes you to get the most emotional and frazzled, but nothing you can’t handle.

You feel your face heat up at the shyness your abilities are presenting right now; “Um, can we turn the lights off?” You ask quietly.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Sam speaks up.

The lights dim and you try to slow your breathing.

She’s covered in leaves and wet from humidity, the stickiness feeling unbearable on her skin. Her skin? Whose skin is that?

“It-It’s a shallow grave, and - and there’s leaves, um -” All you see and feel is pure confusion. You don’t know anything. “Why is it so shallow? They bury people six feet because - because that’s the depth where animals can’t smell dead, rotting flesh - except - except polar bears because they -” Your rambling is cut short at the sound of Bucky’s soft voice and his warm hand engulfing your shaking, clammy one.

“Sweetheart, try and focus on the Navy ship she was talking about, the bomb on the Navy ship.” He tries to get you back on track.

“Right, right, sorry,” You take a deep, shaky breath in and let out with force to calm yourself a bit.

It’s all quick white flashes, so fast and so bright that can’t see the images in between. All you get are feelings of fear and guilt -

“Do you know if she set the bomb?” A deep voice interrupts.

“Sam,” A feminine one scolds.

“What? There’s only one person that seems to know about this bomb and we’re not going to consider her a suspect?”

“She doesn’t even know who she is,”

“But -”

“She didn’t set the bomb!” You exclaim, everything becoming incredibly overwhelming all at once.

“How do you know?” Bucky asks, his calm demeanor influencing your own as you rub your face to somewhat pull yourself together.

“I - I - I just do! I don’t know! I - I keep seeing bomben hersteller, what - what is that?” You ask.

“That’s bomb fabricator in German.” Bucky translates.

“Okay, let’s stop for a second.” Sharon says, “This is a lot of new information, we should wait and see what evidence and samples come back from the crime scene and see what we can get out of her when the agents interview her at the hospital, maybe her condition’s changed and she remembers something, yeah?” You quickly realize that Sharon is the piece of mind between the dynamic of her and Sam while he strategizes the plans. They work extremely well together.

“Okay, okay. Agent, you did very well. Good job.” Sam praises before leaving to exit the conference room, you assume to go give the agents their orders. Sharon sends you a sweet smile before following Sam out.

You look back at Bucky and he’s already looking at you, smile on his face. “You did really good.” He tells you.

“Thanks.” You respond, feeling a lot calmer.

The two of you are sitting awfully close to each other, you notice, bodies turned to face each other in the rolling chairs you sit in. Bucky’s leaning closer towards you than you are him, his forearm pushing on the armrest and you find yourself pulling your eyes away from his and they travel around his face.

Bucky has beautifully long eyelashes and tiny sunspots and freckles that decorate his skin; skin that’s had over a hundred years of wear. He’s kept his hair short but has been growing out his beard, not to an uncomfortable burly length, but enough to leave quite the dark shadow. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips and your eyes flash down there.

You don’t even remember the last time you kissed someone, let alone someone you actually wanted to kiss, not a kiss that was forced upon you. Is he actually about to fucking kiss me right now?

Panic quickly rises through your body and you clear your throat and look away, “Uh, now what?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I can’t go out on missions or anything, so do I, uh, just wait to be summoned, I guess?” Summoned? Why are you so awkward?

“Pretty much, yeah. I’ll, uh, be sticking around, too. Sometimes for ongoing missions I stick around in one of the spare rooms until the case is over.” He softly tells you, unmoving from how close he’s sitting next to you and voice still low and smooth, not looking away from you. Can he tell how nervous and awkwardly attracted to him you feel right now?

“What about Alpine?” You whisper back.

“What?” His eyes are the ones drifting down to your lips, now. Soft looking lips that look like they could kiss him silly and unconscious.

“Alpine?”

“Oh, uh, she stays with my, uh, my neighbor. This little old lady next door to me.” Great, now I’m thinking about my old lady neighbor. You’re biting that lip now and he thinks he might start drooling when you stand suddenly.

“I, uh, just remembered. I have to… clean! I have to clean up, so. I’ll see you.” You push out before finally exiting the room and making your way down the hallway.

You release a frustrated, “Fuck…” as the elevator doors close in front of you.

Meanwhile, Bucky lets out his own groan of frustration in the conference room, hands pushed against his eyes rubbing harshly, “Fuck…”

[tuz-on-ao3]

Fic updates for everything

Hi y'all. So I've been very busy with personal stuff for the past several months, which I won't apologize for but I thought I'd give you an update on how the fics are doing because that is what this tumblr is for. I've split up Maybe I'm Paying for the Things I've done into a series. It's just for me to organize my thoughts and plot into something that is more conducive to my writing process. I removed much of the relationship tags because nothing was really happening there. I will be making edits to what I've already written but mostly for continuities sake. Part two of the series will include more outside POVs and plot that I have foreshadowed in the first part of the series. The Future Doesn't Have Flying Cars will take a backseat for a little bit, if you have any ideas for it I can try to incorporate it into the fic but no promises. The Kakashi/Sakura fic I wrote, Baby It's Cold Outside will potentially become part of a series. I am thinking of writing a longer fic based on the snippets I gave you in the fic. Each "time" would be a separate chapter, or their own alternate universe for me to expand on. A Certain Kind of Political Sense is also in teh back burner because there is only so much worldbuilding ya girl can do at a time and writing an A/B/O fic that isn't weirdly misogynistic or fetishizing requires thoughtfulness. Mine, which is a Kuruko no Basuke fic is also in the backburner, mostly because I have another Kuroko no Basuke fic I'm working on. I'm sorrrryyyyyyy. I will probably update Looking Forward in Reverse when it comes to fics I already have. HOWEVER, it will not what I post next. I am currently working on a fic for the Katekyo Hitman Reborn Fandom. This is actually something I wrote one of my first fics on, but I wasn't really committed to being a writer at that point and I deleted them. This fic is not even a little bit related to what I wrote in the past, it was inspired by Tales of Sass and Win which is fantastic and y’all should get into it. It is a trip let me warn you. It is also sort of a cross over fic with Kobato, sort of. There are lots of original characters and lots of involvement of our well loved characters and some that need more love. This work is going to be part of a series because there are two characters who have a relationship that is is established before the story begins and I might write a side story about them. I may also write another KHR fic where I use some similar ideas but set in Italy not Japan. I might also write a harry Potter crossover fic with KHR because I want to add to the fandom a bit. There is plot everywhere, because I have no self control, whatsoever, once again I’m sorry. *shoves brownies at them in hopes they forgive her* 

I am also working on a tomarry Harry Potter fic, don’t know where that is going though, too many ideas and lots of commitment issues, expect nothing, and there will be no underage. I am also potentially writing a Lilly/James harry potter fic. There is a lot to be done with Lilly that is never really explored, she is mostly depicted as a woman to be desired by James Potter and Snape, and you know I can't take that lying down. 

I also have a bunch of other naruto fics in the workshop, and some other KHR fics as well. I really want to get better at writing Kakashi/Sakura and get better at writing in general. I also want to read more actual books. But no expectations everyone, the most accurate measure of what I choose to upload is how happy writing it makes me, which isn’t something any of you can predict. *shruggs* My family is going through a lot right now and so am I. I have a lot of personal things to work on and I am entering my last year of college, have mercy please y’all. She’s busy and stressed. 

Lots of love, thanks for sticking with me on this weird journey I started during quarantine, feel free to send private messages with questions and such, you can give prompt in the ask box but I make no guarantees sweethearts. We do this for joy or not at all. 

[koriand]

Three Rascals (Asra x MC x Muriel)

Summary: In which you, the MC, are childhood friends with Muriel and Asra. A story from the past.

A/N: I had a burst of inspiration for some scenarios between MC, Asra and Muriel. This is the first one so far and I hope y'all like it! I haven't written in a looong time, so you'll have to forgive my crappy writing.

Edit: My dumbass wrote Asra with male pronouns when they're nonbinary, so I fixed that! Thanks to tumblr user voidelsspussyblr for mentioning it in the replies! 💕

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Two children walked the streets of Vesuvia, hand in hand. One had a small, frail frame; their skin was the color of sand, dipped with rays of a gold sunset, and their hair was pure white, with beautiful curls to frame their face. The boy next to them was taller, and bulky; he had a more olive hue to his skin, though. The bags under his eyes were prominent, and his dark hair was long, with noticeable split ends. They both came trotting towards your father's bakery, and you couldn't help but smile, feeling your younger self filled to the brim with excitement. Asra and Muriel. But, that excitement slowly died down as you remembered how long the line for bread and pastries was.

The bakery was almost never full at this hour, but the seasons were shifting-bringing in cold air-which meant customers coming at random times of the day; all to get some freshly baked pumpkin bread. Asra and Muriel stopped outside of the bakery, perfectly within your eyesight. Asra waved at you with a warm smile, while Muriel raised his hand and then lowered it. You waved back, and gestured for them to wait. You turned to your father, Selasi, while he spoke with a customer. You stood there for a minute, impatiently waiting for the conversation to end.

"I hope Ashanti is able to carry the baby full term."

"Thank you, Selasi, it means a lot to us."

"Dad," You interjected. Your father gave his last thank you's to the customer, and turned towards you.

"Sweetie, you know you shouldn't interrupt my conversations!" He scolded you, but then the corner of his lips gave way, and he laughed. He leaned into you, whispering. "Thank you, though, otherwise he would have dragged the conversation further." You giggled, knowing exactly what he meant. You quickly change subjects, desperate to go out with Asra and Muriel.

"So, dad, is it okay for me to leave now? I've been helping most of the day, and I'm pretty sure it should be Kehlani's shift by now." You said, eager for him to dismiss you. Kehlani was your older sister, though, not the most responsible one at that. Your father smiled.

"Are your friends here?" He asked, one eyebrow raised. You nodded, noticeably excited. He shook your hair. "You can go out now, but on one condition: do not get into trouble. It was hard enough explaining to Mrs. Holloway why her garden didn't have any of her favorite flowers without getting the three of you involved." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Dad, you know that Asra needed ingredients for a spell! Muriel was sick with a fever that wasn't coming down! I had to help!" Your father laughed a hearty laugh. His chest filled with pride in the knowledge that he's raised a kind child. He extended his hand expectantly, and you untied your apron, handing it over quickly. You went to the back of the bakery, snatched two loafs of pumpkin bread, and ran out to the streets to meet your friends.

"Hey," Asra called out, as you felt yourself be swallowed by too many faces, customers, and vendors. You turned to your right, and gave them the most sincere smile you could muster, but walked sheepishly towards them. You presented the bread and Asra gasped. It was still warm as they felt it; they leaned into you and gave you a peck on your cheek. "Thank you." Blush creeped into your face, and your smile became small. Muriel looked at you and offered a smirk as an expression of gratitude.

"What do you guys want to do today? We could go to the underground theatre, and watch the new play." You suggested, but it already seems Asra had something else in mind.

"We want to show you our home, and also, Muriel has something he wants you to see." Asra says, already pulling Muriel behind them. Muriel extends his hand for you to hold, and you do. His hands are dry, calloused, even for a young boy. You thought about the fact that they both pick up odd jobs for sustenance; Muriel does hard labor, meanwhile Asra has taken up a spot where he performs with his snake familiar, Faust. Muriel's work must be hardening his palms. You wish they didn't need to do these things.

You walked around the outskirts of Vesuvia, among trees, and chattering birds. The trees surrounding you were tall, and the forest was not devoid of color, because you saw many, beautiful, wild flowers during your journey to the boys house. You felt your grip on Muriel's hand tighten when you heard a wolf howl. Muriel let out a low laugh, and Asra snickered.

"It's alright, the wolves are harmless." Muriel speaks, looking back at you with a closed lipped smile. You nod, wishing you could relax, but not being able to. You stop in front of a big tree, with a door at its center. You stare at it for a bit, while Asra and Muriel pick up random branches to start a fire with. A chicken comes gawking, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, letting out a scream. The chicken screeched back, and, immediately, you begin to laugh, and the boys do too.

"I didn't think you were so jumpy!" Asra says through their laugh. You keep laughing, and the chicken just bobs its head. Muriel comes over, scooping up the chicken in his arms, and presenting it to you.

"You have to relax and pet it gently." Muriel instructs. You wipe your tears from laughing, and take a deep breath. You extend your hand to pet it, but it gawks at you again, and you pull your hand back just as quickly.

"I don't think he likes me, Muriel." You say, giving him an embarrassed smile. Muriel nods.

"Maybe you're right." He says, giving the chicken a worried look. "It could be because he's never seen you before." You shrug, opening your moth to say something, but are quickly cut off.

"Hey, you two, come inside." Asra says, already kicking the door open, because their arms are filled with branches and twigs. Muriel places the chicken down, going inside the house as you follow pursuit. You notice it's a small hut, just enough space for one or two adults, but three children can comfortably fit here.

"I like your house, it's very cozy." You say, noticing one bed in the far right corner, a fireplace in the center, and small table to the left. Asra throws the branches in the fire place, and they're about whisper a spell, when Muriel interrupts them by lighting a match and throwing it in. Asra gives him an annoyed glance.

"You still don't know how to handle fire magic well, Asra. Remember last time?" Muriel asked. You snort, remembering how they almost burned your hands by trying to warm up bread. Asra pouted, but didn't respond. Asra sits on the bed, Muriel sits next to his legs and you sit next to Asra. You spend the rest of the day braiding Muriel's hair, and learning how to make flower crowns with Asra.

It's night time now, and Muriel wakes up from his nap. He notices both you and Asra sleeping soundly on the bed. Asra has their face buried against your neck, and you have your leg under theirs. Muriel smiles, remembering how you both beckoned him to come nap on the bed. He refused, worried he would somehow crush you both, even though, he wasn't that big; just taller, and with a bit more muscle than both of you. He stood up, and lightly shook Asra awake. You were a heavy sleeper, so Asra found themself giggling when they noticed your lips slightly parted, and drool sliding from it. He quietly asked Muriel to bring over a cloth, and gently wiped away the saliva they could get. Asra leaned into your forehead and gave you a kiss.

"Hey, wake up." They whispered into your ear. You woke up abruptly, shaken, and even slightly irritated. Your mind began to settle, and you looked around the hut. Oh no, you thought.

"What time is it?" You asked, scared. You hoped it wasn't too late into the night, knowing your father would definitely ground you if you got home late.

"It's night time, and I know you have to go home, but before that, Muriel and I want to show you something." Asra said, while standing up from the bed. You rubbed your eyes, and stretched. You remember that Asra had mentioned this earlier.

Asra grabbed Muriel's hand, and he offered his to you again. The three of you set off in the darkness of the forest. Asra managed to conjure a small ball of light with their free hand, sending shivers down your spine. You'd seen Asra perform different types of magic tricks plenty of times, but this time it felt different. This was pure energy flowing through them, and they were in full control of it. You gazed in awe. The three of you stop on a spot in the forest, like a small clearing, with yellow, blue, and glowing flowers. Muriel and Asra sit down, and place you between them both.

"What are we doing?" You asked. Asra shushed you, asking you to lower your voice.

"The Heart of the Forest comes here sometimes, and Asra thinks tonight will be one of the nights we get to see it close. We've only seen her from far away, but maybe tonight will be different." Muriel whispered, green eyes looking in your direction. Muriel wasn't one to be overly expressive, but right now, under the moonlight, and with the help of the glowing flowers, you could see excitement in his eyes for the first time. You felt yourself smile. You wish you could somehow keep him this way forever; if you were an artist, you would have found a way to commit his green eyes into paper or canvas.

"I thought The Heart was a myth?" You asked too soon, as you heard twigs snap under heavy hooves. The beautiful creature came from between the trees, glowing like an ethereal being only can; the deer-bird hybrid had feathers of iridescent colors all through her body, she was tall, and with antlers twice the normal size of any deer; her antlers were pure white, with shiny spiderwebs intertwining them, and crystal beads of water on the webs. You stared at her in complete astonishment, but something was wrong. Her breathing seemed ragged, and her eyes darted from every corner of the clearing. Your brows furrowed in worry. Your instincts tugged at you, wanting to go near her.

You stood up slowly, moving your gaze to the ground. A sacred creature deserves respect. You thought. All the myths of The Heart spoke of people's care for her.

Muriel lifted his hand to stop you, but it only got mid-way, not wanting to scare The Heart away. Asra and Muriel exchanged puzzled looks behind you. The Heart stood still when she noticed your movement. You kept your head down, and walked cautiously. Once you were five feet apart from her, you stopped; she kept her place.

Maybe I should bow. You thought. You bent your posture, bowing to the creature before you. The Heart snorted, and closed the gap between you both by placing her snout against your forehead. You prudently lifted your gaze, and looked at her eyes. Your hand slowly made it's way to pet her head, and immediately, a surge of energy overcame you. Magic flowed through your arms, and in the air; Asra stood up promptly after noticing this, because their hands were glowing, while your entire being glowed too; The Hearts eyes lit up, and so did her feathers. You felt your pulse pick up, and a far off voice came reverberating through your mind. It sounded like a woman's.

"Help. Hide." She said. "Hunters." You gasped.

"Muriel, Asra, she says she needs help hiding! People are hunting her!" The Heart looks directly at both boys, and you can feel her fear. Muriel and Asra nod fervently, and Muriel immediately springs to hist feet. The sound of galloping comes near, and The Heart begins to tense.

"Follow me, my lady, I'll take you somewhere safe." Muriel whispers as he begins to run into the woods. You look at the deer, and give her a reassuring expression. She runs off behind Muriel, as you and Asra stay behind.

"We need to cast a spell to cover The Heart's tracks!" Asra spoke to you. You looked back at them, desperation in your face. "Just repeat after me." They said, walking towards you, and holding your hands in theirs.

"Winds of South, come strong to us, erase this path, and make it visible no more!" Asra whispered; you spoke behind him, your voice trembling. One of his hands let go of yours, and he directed it towards the path Muriel and The Heart took. You mimic his gesture, and the wind picks up, howling in its sudden awakening. Dirt, leaves and everything in between begins to move, effectively covering the tracks. Once you're both satisfied, you stop, and the wind dissipates with you.

Soon enough, a man with a golden arm, blonde hair, and luxurious clothing comes into view. This must be Count Lucio, you realized. Everyone spoke about his lost arm, replaced by a mechanical one made of gold.

"You two!" The man shouts, and points a finger at you both. Your grip on Asra's hand tightens. "Have you seen the deer? I need it." Two guards come galloping behind him.

"No, sir, I don't think I've seen any deer in this forest." Asra replies quickly, and sounding very convincing at it. The man scowls, but doesn't look away from either of you.

"What are two children doing in a forest, during the night anyways?" Asked one of the guards. Asra offered a smile.

"We go lost on our way home." Asra replied, with complete ease.

"Count, what should we do?" He asked. The Count thought for a long moment, and began moving away.

"Let's go back to the palace."

"But, Count, the children."

"They'll find their way out eventually." He said with finality as he kicked his horse, and sped off. The guards followed close behind him. You and Asra sighed in relief, relaxation washing over you.

"We should go back to the hut." Asra spoke. You agreed, and walked hand in hand with them.

Near the hut, you spot Muriel; he's sitting next to the door, holding and iridescent feather. He sees you both and smiles a genuine smile. You run to him, and wrap your arms around him tightly; Asra follows behind you, and throws themself ontop of you both. The three of you are laughing, and all the worries of your father grounding you go out of you mind. All you can think about is this moment.

"We did it, Muriel, we saved The Heart of the Forest!" You say loudly and cheerfully. You lean in and kiss his cheek, and Muriel's face goes red. Asra kisses his other cheek, and the three of you hug again. It's an amazing night, and neither of you want it to end.

[acelezz]

Another update on my life

Ok so y'all probably already know that this is gonna be about my crush so lemme just get right to it. So there's a few things that happened that I wanna talk about.

So that group project that we did together went pretty well. We’ve worked with one another so many times at this point so if we ever have to do another group thing, I have no doubt that she’ll want to work with me again.

On Wednesday, I knew that we would have a good chance to talk because we had to go down and meet with our counsellors to talk about our classes for next year but not as good of a chance as I thought it would be. We did talk a little bit before we got there but then we had to split up since we have different counsellors since its based upon last name and mine is towards the beginning and hers is in the middle of the alphabet. *sigh* if only they'd organize things in school by our first names, the we would be together for a lot more stuff since our first names both start with L. So yeah we sat on opposite sides of the room.

And so I thought that maybe we could meet up and talk after it was done. After all, the majority of our group was on the same side as me, so I figured she would want to come over and talk to us. I was wrong. She stayed where she was, which made me sad kind of. I knew she had a few friends over where she was and thought she was talking to them. I paid attention to my friends on my side because they were talking to me. I never really looked over at my crush. I heard the voice of this girl who I know she's friends with in her gym class so I just assumed they were talking. Now, I didn't hear my crush’s voice but she has a quiet voice so I just assumed she was talking and I couldn't hear. I dunno. I wasn't really paying attention to what they were talking about.

I just remember feeling really disappointed. I wanted her to be over where I was, talking to me. I decided to stay over where my other friends were bc they were talking to me when it was over, but I wanted her to join the convo too. But I reasoned things out and used logic. What I felt wasn't right. She has the right to make friends with and talk to whoever she wants. It reminded me of when my first crush and I became distant and how I would have to watch her talk to her other friends from the other side of the room. Yes, I had friends too (and still have those friends. They are my best friends!), but I wanted to talk to her too. I knew it was for the best for me to leave her be. She was clearly happier with those people. I wanted her to be happier, even if that meant I had to leave her be. We still talked occasionally, but only in the hallway if I ever found her by herself. Now, we are still acquaintances and talk more than we did last year, which I find odd. She seems more interested in me now that I don't have a crush on her anymore. Does she miss the attention? Does she miss our friendship? Or has she just matured and is a better person now? Or all three? Now everytime she talks to me I think “man, 2016-2018 me would have loved this!” Either way, idc bc she’s nice and it would be nice to have her as a friend again.

Back to my current crush! At one point when my friends were talking to one another about something I wasn’t interested in, I finally looked over at my crush to see what she was doing. I was wrong. She wasn’t talking to the people by her. She was just sitting there, looking like she didn’t know what to do. It seemed like she either didn’t feel included by the people around her or she was uninterested in their conversation and didn’t know if she should stay with them and try to follow or try to put herself in there or go over to where me and our friends were. Maybe she was planning on talking to me but didn’t know if she would be interrupting because when I looked over at her, she seemed to be looking in my direction. So at this point, I didn’t know what to do either. The bell was about to ring, so I stood up and got ready to leave. I looked at my friends, then back at her a few times before I made my decision. At this point, I didn’t want to be rude to my friends but I felt bad that my crush was all the way over there by herself (also I love talking to her). Then I realized that it wouldn’t be rude to leave my friends since they had one another. It would be rude to leave my crush by herself, so I finally went over to her.

I just don’t understand how people can let people feel excluded for so long. I can tell that she feels this way a lot and I feel like I’m usually the one who makes her feel included again. In fact, my friends didn’t even realize that she was alone until I walked over to her because I think my one friend noticed that I left and looked over at us and was like “Oh, hi, L!” to my crush. I always seek out those who are quiet, more introverted, or in the most need of a friend. I get it because I’m the same way. I realize that when I do this, I’m doing what I would want someone to do for me. And then when they start to reciprocate and seek me out on their own, that’s the best. I’m getting the friend that I need and so are they. It’s crazy how similar my crush’s mannerism are to mine. When I see her like that, I’m taken back to so many rough times: certain classes, lunches, and recesses in middle school, school sports, etc... but I can tell that she feels like that way more than I do bc she dissociates way more than me.

And her face lit up when I went over to her and said hi. And I asked her if she was going to this trivia thing after school the next day and she said that she most likely was and her smiled really big when I said that I was thinking about going too. Unfortunately, she got sick the next day and left early and wasn’t there. I was really sad. I was thinking of asking her to hang out afterwards bc I didn’t have much homework. But then I realized that if she had come, we would have been on opposite teams since it was with the language clubs and she’s in French club but I’m in Spanish club. But I was also sad bc she wasn’t in class, which is how I found out that she went home early from one of my friends. I don’t like it when my friends are sick bc I know how rough that is especially now that we are older and it can set us behind in school.

So I texted her, saying that I found out what happened and asked her if she was ok. She said she was fine and that she thought that her lack of sleep caught up on her. I was worried this would pester her bc I didn’t know how sick she was but I still wanted to check up on her. Also I was worried that it made me seem too invested in her if that makes any sense bc I could very well just have waited until she returned to school to ask her if she was ok. I worried for nothing because I think this made her like me more (idk in what way tho). If someone sent that text to me that would have made me realize that the friend cared about me enough to notice that I was missing and ask where I was and that they must really care about me to go out of their way and ask how I was. I think my crush and I are very similar so I guess that’s how she thinks too. Sometimes, I wonder if she’d ever do the same, but I’ll probably never find out since I’ve only ever went home sick from school less than a handful of times in my life.

The next day, my crush comes back and she initiated a convo with me (which she does sometimes, sometimes it’s me who initiates) and at one point she stood up to leave the class and use the bathroom but she stopped in front of my desk to finish up what she was telling me and I think that’s what made me forget what we had been talking about because my gosh, my crush is so tall! She really had me mesmerized when she did that. I really had to look up at her to meet her gaze.

Then, at the end of class, I asked her if she was feeling better and she said that she was. And so we started walking together and I asked her about something else and she got interrupted by her friend. She just joined us without saying hi or anything and just interrupted the convo completely. I don’t like when people do that because it’s kind of rude. It’s like she didn’t even care about what my crush had been telling me and thought that what she had to say was more important, which it wasn’t. I’ll admit, it’s completely different when you have to interrupt to tell someone something urgent or important. When I come up to a group of people who are talking, I always say hey and let them say hey back and let them go back to what they were talking about and either join in or wait until they are done to say something else.

Anyways, I could tell that she didn’t like that she had been interrupted. But she wasn’t mean about it, I could just sense it because I felt like she was trying to brush the friend off but every time she would try to finsh telling me what she was saying, the friend would interrupt. So at one point, my crush was like, “I’ll walk with you.” I had my head straight ahead because I was watching where I was walking so I didn’t see who she was talking to. I assumed she was talking to the friend, since normally, once we get to the staircase, we depart as I go down and they make a left. My crush also has her next class downstairs but her class is closer to the main staircase and mine is closer to one of the side ones. But when the friend turned left and my crush didn’t, I realized that she had been talking to me. That made me feel so happy because she hasn’t done that since the beginning of the year. She would go the same way as me until she learned that the friend had a class near ours. And so she started walking with her, but it didn’t make me upset because we are only together a bit longer when she follows me since we have to depart right after we get down the stairs. Also, I know that she has been friends with the other friend much longer than she has been friends with me, so it didn’t make me upset one bit because I know where my place is. What she was telling me really wasn’t that important either so I must have worked my way up if she left her one friend to talk to me for longer. Maybe she realized “hey, it doesn’t matter if I’ve known R for longer. If L is nicer to me, then I should walk with them.” We will have to see. I’ll keep you guys updated and let you know if she does it again.

Oh and one more thing, so at the end of the day on Friday, I was walking from the gym to my locker. I always have to pass her locker on this route and always make a point to say hi to her. And this time, I noticed that she was at her locker on her phone. One point, she looked up and just kept on staring forward. I have great peripheral vision bc the whole time I was looking straight ahead, trying to navigate my way through a sea of people. When I got close enough to her, I finally looked at her and realized that she had already been looking at me. It was me that she had been looking at. It’s almost like she wanted to make sure that I saw that she was looking because she had stopped what she was doing. She didn’t continue to text whoever she was texting or continue to look at whatever she was looking at. She didn’t start to gather any of her things. She was just standing there, waiting for me to notice her (little does she know, I already had because she really sticks out with her height and red hair, I’m good at spotting out friends in crowds and remembering when and where I’ll pass them during the day, and bc like I said, I have good peripheral vision). So I said bye to her and she smiled at me and said bye to me in a way that sounded like a combination of shy and possibly low key flirtatious. I dunno, she said it after I pass her so it’s kind of hard to tell.

Either way, I’ve been getting a lot of positive signs from her that she really likes me. Even if it’s not in that way, she really enjoys my company and seems to be really comfortable with me. I’m going to ask her if she would like to go to the amusement park when it opens in a few weeks(not as a date though, just to hang out and to get to know each other while doing something fun). Now is a little too soon thoug so I’m going to wait until it gets closer. I’ll keep you guys updated on what happens with that. :)

So sorry that this was so long. Have a nice day, everyone! :)

[taetae-tea]

The One (Part V)

Part IV <- Part V –> Part VI

Genre: Hybrid!Taehyung, (soul)mate!Taehyung, Fluff, Angst, smut

Paring: TaehyungXreader

Word-count: 1.7K

Warnings: Abuse, unjust, anxiety, force, animalistic feelings, panic-attacks, indication of mating, Heart/brein-dilemma

Summary: You’ve never liked the idea of hybrids, since it’s straight up abuse from a owner to a hybrid, they aren’t treated like humans. But what happens when your boss gave you a hybrid as a gift?

A/N: Sorry this part took me a while, because I had a week of tests and parties and shit so sorry fam. Also no smut yet >.< NEXT PART I PROMISE. Hope you still enjoy this one!

Masterlist

What happened in Pt.IV of The One

Although all his senses told him to take you right then and there, he knew that you had to be in your right mind for this decision. A human blinded by lust will never make the right decisions, although it was your body making you crazy, he still knew that he shouldn’t take advantage of that. He wants you to choose fairly and to choose for the person he is and not because of your body.

But, this decision has to be taken quickly, because looking at his calendar, his heath will arrive in a day or 3. The pills they got him will certainly not work on a guy in heath with his soulmate in the same room. So, let’s just say, you need to get mated quickly or he needs to get out of that house before hell takes over and he quite literally won’t be able to hold himself back like that anymore.

Things has changed since yesterday evening. You can feel it in your house, quiet and an unconfortable vibe ghosting through the rooms. Everything suddenly seem less nicer, as if something went horrible wrong and the decision you made yesterday wasn’t right.

Taehyung hasn’t been out of his room, not even for some food. But you haven’t called for him either. To be honest, you feel quite himuliated for what you did last night. It was something out of place to you. You would never and had never once in your life once graved someone this bad, and it creeped you the fuck out.

You were and still are very glad Taehyung stopped you, even though the lion inside of him almost took over his body. He was aware of what went through your head at that point, thank god for his abilities to be able to sence certain things like that. Maybe it’s also the reason for him to lock himself away, so he wont be able to effect you and himself in such a way again, not untill you are really aware of the concequenses of being with him, a lion.

Lions are most affectionate to their like-sexed companions. Females spend their lives in their mothers’ pride or with their sisters in a new pride; males may only spend a few years in a given pride but remain with their coalition partners throughout their lives.

You’ve been wondering a lot about this big cat within Taehyung. You’ve looked up a lot about lions and lions behavior. It appears that lions are very territorial, sometimes aggresive but also a sweet creature. He shows his love to the once that really matter, therefore only his own pack. Other packs aren’t welcome, they will get defensive and aggressive towards the others that threats him. You question if Taehyung might be like this too. You haven’t seen him doing anything like that. He must be more of a human than a lion after all.

You closed your laptop with a big sigh, hands wandering through your strands quite frustratingly. Your head hasn’t been able to focus on anything beside Taehyung for the past 6 hours that you’ve been awake. And honestly, it is really getting to your head.

You stand up while looking at your large klock hanging on your wall, seeing that it’s 6 pm and Taehyung and you would be needing to have dinner at this time. You begin to worry for a split second, knowing that Taehyung hasn’t eaten anything in the past day and you know that an hybrid needs to be fed well.

You walk up to the kitchen, immediately getting all the stuff you need to prepare the meal for the both of you. You’re making a steak with some potatoes and some vegetables. It’s easy and fast to prepare, something your prefer.

15 minutes past and dinner was all ready to be eaten. Now the scary part came, you had to get Taehyung out of his cave and to be honest, it’s something you’d like to postpone a little longer. But, reminding yourself to his health, it just has to be done and over with. It’s not like you’d have to talk with him or anything.

‘Taehyung?’ You try to call for him, knocking gently on his door. You couldn’t hear any motion on the other side, there with also no response. Still, you go on with your sentence. At the end it would be his choice wether he would want to eat ot not. ‘I.... dinner is done. You can eat if you’d like to... You don’t have to though.’

You almost slap yourself by the broken sentence that past your lips. You feel so uncomfortable and you didn’t knew if that was because you had to confront him or because you maybe... miss him?

Though the awkwardness in this house, your mind never left him. Though it might have ended quite wrong yesterday, it didn’t mean you stopped graving his attention, his touch and voice...

You wriggle your fingers, nervousness not missing to dawn over you for this whole minute that you’ve been standing in front of that door. You decide on walking away after a while, realizing Taehyung wouldn’t be going out of that room. Not when you’re there and you know exactly why, because even when you walk away from his door, you felt the strong affection towards him.

‘Fucking hell.’ You breathe out, walking to the kitchen to get your own food to eat. Needless to say that Taehyung didn’t went out of his room for the whole night too. It made you quite worried, questions constantly shooting through your head. Did he not like you anymore? Did he feel this uncomfortable? What is he dies because he hasn’t eaten all day?

You let out a last sigh as you finish your foot, now deciding on calling Iris in your bedroom. It’s a thing you do when you don’t know what to do anymore, you call Iris. Though she’s just as old as you, she still has seen and done way more in her life than you. Those horrible stories of Iris’s life is another story which will be told soon or later. Right now, you need her advise. Though she might not understand you situation, she always tries to place herself into your position and comes with a few tips that might help.

‘Hey! What’s up? Anything happening?’ You can already hear her concern from the other side of the line. You let out a sigh and nodded, though she couldn’t see it.

’Tell me.’ She says now 10 times more serious and you let out a chuckle, suddenly realizing how well she knows you.

‘Is it Taehyung?’ She asks and you nod again. Like some magical force had send her your thoughts, you can hear her sigh too. ‘What did he do?’

Your talk took at least 2 hours, you trying to explain your thoughts, feelings and everything that comes with it. She hadn’t laughed, though it certainly is something you would laugh at. It would sound so weird, hearing someone say they are sexual frustrated by an hybrid. There with, developing real feelings for such a extraordinary person, it’s not how it’s supposed to be. You always thought you would end up with a nice handsome guy, have a normal family and a normal job. You never asked more than that, but Taehyung is far from what you’ve thought about when you were younger.

‘Okay, I understand now.’ She finally says. ‘And I also kinda know what you should do.’

‘Okay, fire your tips at me.’ You giggle.

‘Okay, to what I understand, is that you’re scared of what will happen to you and the effect it will have on your life. Personally, I think you should listen to your heart and give into your feelings towards him. When it comes to love, you shouldn’t think too much, you should let it wash over you.’

The feedback is exactly like you’ve been telling yourself and like Emma told you. And of course, it’s the right thing. But anxiety just sometimes gets the best of you. You’re scared of the relationship, of the way your parents will react to it and how you would be living on.

‘I know you’re probably scared, but really, you should just give it a try. You will most likely regret not choosing him.’

Suddenly everything made sense within you. Like a switch that happened within you, you suddenly knew what to do. She was right, you need him in your life, you want him in your life. 

‘Fuck it.’

It was silent for a second before you could hear Iris laugh.

‘Get’m tiger!’

‘Lioness.’ You correct her words and laughed with her.

Like Taehyung had heard your whole conversation, you heard a door swing open from the other side of your apartment. You gulp as you stared at your door as you suddenly heard a beep from your phone, signaling you that Iris stopped the call.

You almost jumped off your bed as your own door suddenly swung open and a dark-looking Taehyung stood in the doorway, lust dripping off his expression. His tail was slowly sweeping behind him and his ears were focussing 100% on you. He knew it, he had felt your switch of thoughts.

‘I’m going to fuck you until you are full of my cubs in your belly.’

Oh boy

A/N: The next part will include a lot of smut, so y'all just wait a little bit!

[a-simple-imagine]

Tell Me You Love Me (Christmas Special)

Requested by me: It’s Christmas time. You’re spending it at Demi’s parents and you have a surprise for her

Pairing: Demi Lovato x fem!reader

A/N -  Its officially christmas here so MERRY CHRISTMAS!! or HAPPY HOLIDAYS!! my lovelies. Consider this my gift to you guys, I’ve been so hyped to publish this one so I hope y'all like it. 🎄💕

PART 2

I remembered that day like it was just yesterday. Christmas would always hold a special place in my heart which was why I had planned to do this tomorrow. It was the first time I heard those three little words from my girlfriend. I love you. Demi and I had been dating for a while and it was our first Christmas together. We weren’t doing anything particularly special. Just cuddled up watching Elf. I had originally planned to say them first and on that day too but I was much too nervous. So much so that I almost didn’t say them back. I love you too. To this day those words still rain true. If anything they mean so much more now. Our relationship was no longer new. We’d been together for a few years. We were different people now, than we were back then. We’ve grown. And matured. This year we were spending Christmas with Demi’s family. I was actually looking forward to it. Although I was a little on the nervous side. We lay together in what I assumed was Demi’s old room. Demi’s arms wrapped around me as she slept. I honestly couldn’t understand how that was comfortable for her but she was snoring away. I, on the other hand, was struggling to get any shut eye. I just lay in the dark waiting for the appropriate time to get up. Careful not to wake my sleeping girlfriend, I reached over to grab my phone off the bedside table. Clicking the home button, I was almost blinded by the light. Time; four, thirty nine a.m. Despite my caution, Demi seemed to wake.

“Y/N?” She mumbled, arms slipping from around me to gently rub her droopy eyes. “Can’t sleep?”

I nodded slightly. “Not a wink.”

“Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“You could say that, yeah.” Lips curling into a small smile, I shifted to look towards my girlfriend.

“I’m excited too.” The woman snuggled up closer to me. I kissed her gently on the forehead. “You should…” She lost a battle with a yawn which was admittedly adorable. “try to sleep though.”

“Trust me, I’m trying.”

Demi fell back to sleep after that. I moved a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she nuzzled against me. I wrapped my arms around the brunette. Holding her close as she slept. No matter what happens. No matter the answer. Tomorrow would be the day our lives changed forever. I lay in the darkness. In the silence. Just waiting until I finally drifted off.

My body shook rather violently, awaking me from my slumber. A long groan emitted from my throat. Turning away from the source of the shaking, I clutched the sheets tighter. Yanking them to my chest. No part of my wanted to get up now that I had but a taste of unconsciousness.

“Y/N, get up!” Demi whined, trying to pull the covers from my grasp.

“Just five more minutes, please.”

“Last night you couldn’t wait for today, so get up.” Demi climbed onto the bed. Legs either side of my body, She hoovered above me. Moving to lay on my back, my eyes fluttered open. Demi smiled, pecking my lips. “Get up!”

“I swear you’re like a child. Go away.” I chuckled. Closing my eyes and turning away from her once more. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“Fine.” Demi left the room without another word. I buried myself within the sheets. A few peaceful minutes until paws clawed at the sheets rapidly. Opening my eyes, I saw Batman. Demi’s Black yorkiepoo. His tail wagging excitedly. I attempted to push him off to the side but the dog kept coming back. His tongue lapping at my face.

“Okay, Okay, calm down. I’m up.” I ran my hand through the dogs soft fur. Sitting up in bed, the dog jumping down to run over to the brunette. Demi picked him up in her arms.

“Good boy, Batman.” She gave him a treat before placing him back down. Throwing off the covers, I thought it best to finally embrace this Christmas morning. I was a mix of exhausted and excited. Today was the day. I’d been looking forward to it for what felt like months. Glancing towards Demi, even in my state I couldn’t help but smile at the Christmas onesie she wore. It matched mine but it didn’t look nearly as good on me as it did her. I only wore it per her request. The girl made her way over to me, took hold of my hand and planted a kiss to my lips. That was before practically dragging me downstairs. As we approached, I could hear her family chatting. Everyone must already be up and I guess they were waiting on me. I was slightly embarrassed as I was lead into the room; walking just a little way behind Demi. But we were greeted by warm hellos and holiday cheer. I sat beside my girlfriend on the plush sofa located next to the Christmas tree. My head almost instantly falling to her shoulder.

“Tired?”

I nodded.

“That’s what you get for staying up most of the night.”

She patted my cheek softly. And I groaned. As much as I hated to admit it, it was my own fault. I was too anxious to sleep so it was technically out of my control but still. Demi’s mother insisted that she should have let me sleep in which I totally agreed with. I kept feeling myself beginning to nod off to sleep before jolting awake again. My ears hardly even registered any of the conversations happening around me. That was until I was given food. French Toast to be exact. It smelt divine, tasted It too. The coffee that accompanied it was also a blessing. I felt more awake and ready to face the day. The family chatted, this time I joined in though. They asked typical questions about how I’m doing. About my job. All that fun stuff.  I answered of course. I wasn’t about to be rude to my girlfriend’s family and they were just making conversation. When it came time to finally open the presents dotted under the tree, that all too anxious feeling returned. I being one of the closest to the tree was tasked with help handing them out. It was always nice to see the way people reacted to getting gifts. You could tell almost instantly if someone liked something. And I enjoyed the mental challenge of figuring it out. we finally came to the point where there was but one present left under the branches. I had made sure to keep it off to the back. Purposely ignoring it. Reaching for the parcel, I checked the label despite already knowing who it was for. This was it.

“Seems like you missed one, babe.”

Her head tilted a little out of what I assume was curiosity. I placed the gift upon her lap. Demi pulled off the lid of the moderately sized box. An amused smile tugging on her lips. Everyone seemed to just watch her.

“Really?” She rolled her eyes and pulled out a slightly smaller box. And as she opened that one, a chuckle slipped past her lips. Again she pulled out a slightly smaller box. This continued to happen and I could see Demi was getting annoyed. Her family was still rather amused though which made me think they were in on it. I had spoke to Eddie in advance after all. The girl eventually got to a rather small box. It was tiny compared to the one we started with.

“I swear to god if there is another box in here-”

“Just open it.” I interrupted sharply.

Pulling off the lid, her brows furrowed. There was another box inside, only this one wasn’t covered in Christmas paper. Nor was it made out of cardboard. Instead, Demi pulled out a velvet red box. She lifted the lid with caution and my stomach began doing somersaults. This time I wasn’t gonna back down though. Demi couldn’t do this for me. I had to be the one. I positioned myself on the floor so I was down on one knee.

“Do….” I swallowed hard. “Do you remember our first Christmas together, Demi? That was also the first time you told me that you loved me which is why today is my favourite time of year.”

“Y-Y/N-”

“And everyday since then, I-I’ve  fallen more in love with you. At this point I’m… ridiculously, head over heels, in love with you. And so I, uh… got to thinking about the future and I want a future with you, Demi. Nobody else but you. And I think this s-should be the first step. So, Demetria, Devonne, Lovato, will you please do me the honour of becoming m-my wife?”

Her brown eyes drifted from the ring to meet my eyes and then back again. There was a sinking feeling in my gut. I’d messed up, I was too nervous. Nobody said anything and the silence was painfully awkward. I expected Demi to answer relatively quickly. Maybe she didn’t want to marry me? And she was trying to work up the courage to say no? I was really starting to overthink so I got to a point where I was about to tell demi it was okay to say no when she took the lead.

“…Yes.”

I hesitated. “Yes?”

That lost look that was plastered on her face broke into her signature bright smile. She looked so happy. And so beautiful. Grinning ear to ear, Demi nodded eagerly. Her family seemed overjoyed. I caught a glimpse of Eddie who gave me a little nod. I had told him in advance because it was a tradition to ask the father of the bride if you could marry their daughter. I didn’t so much as ask because Demi isn’t his property to give away but I told him that I wanted to propose. And that I wanted to do it on Christmas Day. He gave me his blessing. I rose to my feet and demi instantly wrapped her arms around my neck. Pulling me so there was no distance between us. I stared into her eyes. A warm smile to match hers. I was about to speak when I felt her lips on mine. The kiss was slow and tender but full of a passion that was relatively new to me. It had a need behind it. My arms secured themselves around the girl, keeping her as close as possible as I kissed back. For a split second I forgot where we where. I forgot that there were even people around us. It was just Demi and I. Sharing a moment that would undoubtedly change our lives. While she may have pulled away from the kiss, her arms remained tight and she caught my gaze once more.

“I remember our first Christmas perfectly. It was one of the few I hadn’t spent here with my family. It was just us two and you had eaten way too many candy canes off the tree.”

“Let’s not relive that part. I was so sick after that.” I laughed.

“I remember the shake in your voice as you told me you loved me. I heard that same thing today. You were nervous. Scared I was gonna reject you. But you had no reason to be because I’ve known for a while now that there is no one I’d rather spend my life with than you, Y/N.”

[queenofthegalaxxy]

What if - Sister Substitute

[[A little something following through the happenings of the episode Final Exam (transcript I used for this here) of Teen Titans, only with the change that the end of Sisters happened differently. Related to my wishlist-post here, where you can find a little more details.]]

It hadn’t been long yet, but so far, everything worked well. The Teen Titans sure were sad, or shocked or maybe worried, to hear that Starfire had decided to leave them, but the goodbye-letter that “she left behind” was convincing-enough for them to not go searching. Still, especially Robin was worried or perhaps doubting, and so Blackfire naturally did what she could to give him something, someone, else to put his focus onto. She had already played with him while Starfire had still been here, and clearly noticed the possibility to make more of that - and now, with her sister gone and as such unable to get in her way, it would be child’s play.

She had been hanging out with Robin - teaching him moves during training together, watching him do his hero work and casually asking things about Earth which she didn’t all still need to learn about - and now walked into their Ops room together with him, just finishing an explanation. “And that’s how they solved faster-than-light travel. There are multiple ways though, depending on the planet.” The rest of the team had not taken much note of the two entering yet, it seemed there was an argument going on. “So if you want to blame someone look in the mirror, buddy!”, Beast Boy shouted as the two walked in, and both Blackfire and Robin stopped and Blackfire raised an eyebrow. “Whoa! Take it easy, Titans! Combat practice is this afternoon!”, Robin tried to mediate, and Blackfire nodded and added: “Or at least solve it in a real fight, and not this.” She floated over to the kitchen, opening the fridge to see what she could get for herself. The offer did not look too good, though, especially with that blue gunk all over everything, and when a part of it moved as if it was going to try to jump at her, she blasted at it, which caused the whole thing to explode and spread the blue stuff all over the room, including herself and the other Titans. “Maybe we should just go out for pizza.” And that was a thing that finally everyone could agree on, so the team headed out to the city.

--

With changing location though, it seemed the argument was not yet over. “Can we please just order something?” ”As long as it's vegetarian.” “Come on, man, how can you deny me the all-meat experience?” “Dude, I've been most of those animals!” “How about a pizza with wasabi and jalapeno?” She was stared at for that suggestion, and after a moment Robin leaned over to her. “Uh, Blackfire? I think you’re forgetting that we are more sensible to spices than you.” “Oh, right. Sorry.” She shrugged. “Then maybe, whatever you accept as spicy?” “Double pepperoni!” "I'm not eating meat!” “There's no meat in pepperoni!” Blackfire sighed and leaned back to just listen to the continued banter.

Only that the banter doesn’t continue for very much longer, as a horn of a bus alerted the Titans. The situation was obvious quickly - a baby carriage right in the way of a seemingly unbraked bus. “Titans! Go!”

She might just be the fastest of the team to get somewhere, so Blackfire didn’t need an order to know that she’s to be the one to get the carriage away. Not that she really cared for saving any of the people here, but if she wanted to keep the team busy she had to play along and stay a part of their group, at least for a bit. She finished her task quickly, and watched most of Raven and Cyborg stopping the bus. “Um... don't buses normally have drivers?” “And don't baby carriages normally have babies?” Robin’s words bring her focus back to the carriage that she had moved out of the way, and he raised a teddy bear out of the carriage, that then begins to speak. “Are you pit-sniffers normally this stupid?” Energy beams of some sort were fired from the bear’s eyes in the next moment, way too fast for anyone to react and the three of them that had gathered here were all hurled away. The bus was suddenly lifted and smashed onto Raven and Cyborg who still were close, taking them seemingly out of the fight too.

“That was too easy. What a buncha cludge-heads. You guys want to get pizza?” The voice that before spoke from within the teddy bear said, and once Blackfire got up from the ground again she, as well as Robin and Beast Boy could see their attackers - a group of three. “This isn't over!” Ah yes, Robin’s typical hero-speak. Blackfire still wondered if he practiced stuff to say, or maybe that was his power, since, well, since he was pretty normal (even if trained) human otherwise. The bus was shot away, and Cyborg got up from the hole. “We're just getting started!” Raven joined again too, appearing from a shadow-figure of a bird. Fancy. “Who are these guys? And what's a cludge-head?” “We are the HIVE!” The gnome of the group spoke, and they seemingly had learned their introduction by heart before, because the next two lines came from the other two. “Your worst nightmare!” “And this is Attack Pattern Alpha!” Some shots from the gnome’s technology were fired towards the alley three of them were in, and Blackfire managed to raise her arms to block the down-coming rubble but was buried just like the others. They came out of it just in time to see how something was attached to Cyborg and he started to fly involuntarily, and while Blackfire quickly focused on the fight again and wanted to jump in, a command of Robin (”Blackfire! Help Cyborg!”) told her to do else and she quietly groaned before taking up chase of her teammate.

--

It took frustratingly long to catch up with Cyborg. The blaster on his back seemingly was working on a random schedule; everytime that Blackfire thought she knew where it was heading and could rush over there faster, it decided to change direction again. Eventually, though, she finally was close enough to aim a shot at the device stuck to Cyborg’s back, hitting the target and catching Cyborg long before he would crash anywhere. “Thanks, B. Nice aim.” “No problem. Now let’s head back.” And that they did, Blackfire carrying him all the way, and landing both of them at the door of their Tower after a while of flight, that they spent chatting. He opened the Tower-door and walked in first with a cheerful attitude, Blackfire following close behind. “Maybe y'all should call me Flyborg. I was halfway to Gotham City before B zapped that thing off my back. So what'd I miss?” Only Raven and Beast Boy were present, and both avoided Cyborg’s gaze. “Tell me how we kicked their butts. Come on, I gotta have the play-by-play.” “Where's Robin?” Blackfire asked, not really caring for the details and much rather for continuing her ‘work’ on taking the team’s thoughts off of her sister. “Um, B? We're not sure.” “What do you mean, not sure? What happened to him?” “He got separated from us. We searched everywhere. And all we found was this.” To the last part of her answer, Raven produced Robin’s utility belt, and Blackfire blinks at it surprised. Cyborg groaned and clapped both hands to his forehead. It seemed that he felt guilty about it, which he proved by what he said a moment later. “I shoulda been there. I let that kid sneak up on me and - what was I-? It was a trap, and I-I shoulda known.” “I doubt he’d give his weapons away willingly. Did you search thoroughly enough?” “Come on, guys. This is Robin we're talking about. I'm sure he's fine. He'll probably turn up any second.” And just on cue, the door mechanism activates once more. “Awesome timing.” “Can we be sure it’s Robin?” Blackfire hovered towards the door, landing close to it but turning back to the Titans. “What if-” The whole entrance explodes onto her before she can finish her doubts, and Blackfire is hurled inward while the intruders enter - none other than the trio they fought previously. “Oh, no.” “Oh, yes.” The pink-haired girl seemed to be about as trained in comebacks as Robin was, even if this simple thing wasn’t that much an indication yet. “You guys got lucky last time, but you're in our house now!” “Yeah, nice place. We'll take it!” The fight started, Blackfire got into the air together with Raven, attacking the HIVE with her starbolts. “Split up!” Cyborg commanded, and while she would have preferred to keep fighting, Blackfire too listened to it just like the others did, and headed for the staircase past Raven, who follows moments later.

Raven and her both headed to the gym, smashing the door closed, Blackfire sealing it by melting the outlines, and exchanging a look for just a moment. There wasn’t even time to say anything, though, for the wall behind them blew towards them, pushing both of them to the ground and revealing the hunk of the trio, with his head in the wall. Did he seriously just head-butt the wall broken? No matter, both girls prepared for a fight now. He was only one, and seemingly relying on his strength, what could be so hard about that?

--

Landing in the water was a clear-enough proof of the fight being harder than she thought. None of the rest of the team had any better a result though, as they were all here in the water, looking up at the Trio that jad just proven to be capable of taking over the Titans’ home. The pink girl shot some of her energy into the water, which caused a big wave to erupt that washed the team to the other shore. “So, uh...who else never wants to go surfing again?” “Not now, man.” “Hey, I was just trying to-” Lighten the situation. As Beast Boy always did - which probably meant he had something he preferred to not admit to or think about, somewhere deep down. Maybe she should try to learn about that sometime. Cyborg started some form of self-repair, and Blackfire approached him. “Do you need help?” “I got it.” “If you say so,” she shrugged. “I’m just offering because I’ve seen a lot of technologies, and-” “I got it!” He barks back, and she retreats a bit. “Hey! She only wanted to help! What is your problem?” “What do you think? We got kicked out of our house, a pint-size Poindexter took me for a joyride, and in case you haven't noticed, I just became left-handed!” “Enough! We need to control our emotions.” Raven - always the voice of reason. Her calmness leaves Blackfire wondering what the reason for that is. There must be something. “Or what? Our bad vibes will keep you from meditating?” “This would’ve all gone differently if Robin were here.” Even with little experience she had with the team so far, it was clear that he was doing the strategy-work of their fights, and with a good strategy, it could’ve been done a lot better, probably. “Well, he's not!” Cyborg addresses the whole team now. “Don't you guys get it? They won, we lost. IT’S OVER!!” “Then... the Teen Titans are finished?” Quite a quick end for her little earth-adventure, then. And here she considered them important enough to work for keeping them distracted from Starfire’s situation. “Not yet.” The Titans turned around when the voice was heard, and indeed, Robin stood there. “Not if I can help it.” Yeah, she could understand the liking that her sister took to him, at least to a degree.

--

There hadn’t been much talk about anything else, they discussed a plan and then soon sprung to action. The others were getting the gnome and the girl onto the roof, and Blackfire had the task to get the big one there, so as soon as the other two are away she quickly decked him with a barrage of starbolts to force him to run where she wants to. Out of the room, at first, then to the stairs, and up, until he’s stumbling backwards through the door, and another purple blast shoves him far enough so he’s landing close to his friends. “Sorry to interrupt the victory celebration.” By now, Robin got his belt back as well as Cyborg did his arm, and both attached their tools again swiftly. “But like I said... this isn't over.” “It's just getting started.” The HIVE still seemed confident enough about the whole situation, and again the girl spoke: “Attack Pattern Alpha!” before they scattered. This time it would be different though, Robin had brought plans along with his return. Blackfire had chased Jinx into a structure that the three had surprisingly quickly attached to the Tower, and she was still chasing her a bit further in with her attacks. Just a little further, yes, it should be good here. And he was in reach of her, too. “Beast Boy! Go!” The changeling quickly reacted to her shout, and dropped himself onto the pink-haired girl. Her own energy caused the nearby parts of the structure to crack, and Beast Boy gets away in time to have the whole thing come down only onto her. Another few attacks from the whole team towards the big guy take him out too, and all three land in a heap, clearly defeated. “Cram it. I'm calling Slade.” The boy takes out a communicator of sorts, only to be lifted up by Robin, who seemed to still be in fight mode, or at least enraged or driven by adrenalin. “Who is Slade?” “Wouldn't you like to know, barf-brain?” Before he could question any of the trio further, something drops off of the gnome’s suit (or maybe from his bags or whatever, Blackfire didn’t keep that close an eye on them), exploding into smoke and leaving the Titans by themselves a few moments later when the smoke faded.

With no sign of the HIVE still being around, the team took down the makeshift-additions to their Tower quickly, and soon were all in the Ops room again. “NOOOO!! This is the worst thing that could ever happen!” Only that it wasn’t really the worst thing, she knew better than to fall for Beast Boy’s exaggerations anymore. My tunes! They've been... alphabetized. How am I ever gonna find anything?” “They went into my room. No one should ever go into my room.” Raven complained with as cold a voice as ever, just joining the rest of the group. Blackfire meanwhile had looked into the fridge again, and took out a soda for herself as she got up again. “At least they cleaned the fridge for us,” she said, leaning back against the counter. “You gotta be kidding me!” Cyborg lifted the couch, and Blackfire didn’t need to ask to know what he was looking for. “The whole place gets cleaned and I still can't find the-” A whistle stops his complain, and he looks up to Robin who points somewhere. The remote lies in the most logical place for it to be, right on the couch table. “Ha!” The two boys sat down, while the rest of the team gathered around them too, watching as Robin started to zap through the channels. “ I guess we really oughta be training for battles, tracking down clues, and trying to figure out who Slade is, huh?” Robin seemed surprisingly calm about the whole matter, Blackfire had expected more of a serious and goal-focused attitude - but maybe that was because this had still been a rather easy mission in the end. “We will. But right now, I'm just happy to be part of the team.”

[survivingjapan]

EPISODE 14 “Pippa and the Boys.” - Pippa

Can I just say: Best.  Results.  Ever. Johnny is an AMAZING guy.  A favorite through and through.  However, him going was the best result from that rock draw (although maybe Trace/Dom/Pippa would've been better).  And without him, Trace and Dom are just kinda there.  They don't pose any immediate threat. What has now come out of this tribal is also just overall better for my game.  Drew? trusts me more.  Steffen? trusts me more.  Sarah and Crow? trust me a lot but like idk if it's more lol.  Junior? trusts me.  Tommy? needs me rn.  Andrew?  Welll actually... So Andrew and I have now had a conversation about our prior "beef" and it turns out, it was just both of us overthinking.  I know Andrew is a definite threat to me and my game, however we now will have a working relationship that can hopefully further my game more.  And he can actually maybe vote for me/I can vote for him in the end if we can continue working together from this day forward.  I was open about my vote against him and my slight like BLAH about him, and we talked it out and we're okay now !   Now, I just need to talk to Dom and Trace, try and wrap their heads around my game and we'll be gucci.  If I can go deep with connections piled on connections and people wanting to kill each other over me?  That's gold. Reminder that while I'm not the best gameplayer, I know how to work a jury.  I'm not a complete asshole.  I've learned.  Lying will get me nowhere and if Steffen wants to keep doing that, I'll genuinely go final 2/3 with him.  But I'm still not set on Drew or Sarah or Crow.  I loved all 3 of them, but they're so fucking smart.

http://youtu.be/B4Z0O0blbpY SHOOK

My names pippa and my confessional game is weak. So sarah just told me i play a great UTR game. IS that good? Idk but im not really being targetted. Im glad johnny went home in rocks last night. That just means i get no blood on my hands and i didnt have to take a good friend out. I can play nice with these people all i want but that doesnt mean im fond of any of them. Andrew wants to keep Crow in, I want Crow out. I don't trust him and he doesnt realize he buries himself in some holes with the stuff he says. Junior isnt my favorite rn either but i wanna know the 3 people who voted andrew. I know Brain was one, but who are the other two? Im convinced it was Crow and Sarah. Who knows????

Wow we have SO MUCH to fuckin talk about okay where I do even start. I guess I could go with all of the messy ass strategizing that happened yesterday. So keep in mind I'm at a state fair basically all day and have to communicate to these MANIACS on shitty barn wifi for 5 hours and get home only just in time for tribal. Basically all the heroes were in and out of each others' pms all day deciding between Sarah, Brian, and Crow for the vote. I obviously do not want Crow going. Pippa and I have a game relationship with him and we can't have him leaking about the hero idol. Plus he's kinda growing on me? Even though he's a sneak and might be the death of me he's super cool and kinda hilarious. Plus he's a connection to the villains so like. Yeah! Basically we kinda decide to finally go for Sarah but make it seem like we're doing Brian. Which just seems too damn simple. Meanwhile Crow is being sketched out by Pippa and I bc there was a villains plan to split up Johnny and Trace. I told this to Junior and I guess he assumed Crow was behind it so he started spreading that that was a plan and Crow got mad at me? But I'll say right here in confessionals that I did not drop Crow's name in that plan. But nonetheless the bird was suspicious. So blah blah damage control and it's like okay well Pippa and I were kinda thinking hmmm should we go for Trace or Johnny but like, it's too risky and we'll kill our games with the heroes. Life goes on yada yada I'm just sitting there stuffing my face with fried Oreos and suddenly Johnny drops into my pms and we're both just like it's 8 and we don't have an official vote so I suggest Johnny make a chat with just all the heroes to hash shit out and figure who we're voting. I need to make sure that they get away from Crow, and I'm just like voting Sarah is free all you have to do is type out 5 letters y'all but then Johnny... Johnny fucks up. And he says why don't we go for Junior :~) And in a chat with myself, him, Pippa, and Steffen, he tells us not to worry and that he has good reason for going for Junior and that we'll thank him after tribal. So there I am. Sitting there with half a fried Oreo in my mouth while Pat Benetar is singing We Belong in the distance (she was really there y'all at 64 idk how the fuck a bum fuck Connecticut state fair booked her she's doing great btw)... And I'm like. JOHNNY IS REALLY TRYIN IT??????? See, Junior made the Big Miss Steak of telling Johnny right before the Kendall tribal that he had the villain's idol. Now I knew before Johnny did, and I advised Junior don't. But he did! So! I fucking run to Junior and say play your damn idol because Johnny is really about to TRY. IT. And this is perfect because Junior could try getting the villains to vote out a threat like Johnny or Drew. But Junior says he doesn't have sway on the villains which is like DUH and I scream and I'm like idk try dude we have like 25 minutes! So he's telling me how he went to villains and got it onto Drew but told Sarah to vote Johnny and I'm freaking out just ever so slightly because I know I could possibly possibly possibly be the vote but it's w/e. And then Miss Sarah messages me at 9:01 asking who I voted and I'm like fuckin uuuuuuuuuuu Junior? I told Junior that I voted him to save face also. And I also told Pippa Junior was playing and idol so sorry Junior! But um yeah. Sarah is just like lol well Junior has an idol and I ask oh rip well who are they voting AND GIRL ISN'T ANSWERING BUT IS TALKING IN THE TRIBE CHAT. Naturally I begin to freak out, and on top of that Drew is going into full despair in my pms saying he feels something really bad coming. Sarah just knocked on my door in a grim reaper costume and just winked before walking away, Drew is having a full Dread Episode, Pippa is like nah you're good hold onto that idol boy, and Junior is like it's good I got the votes on Drew! I think... But yeah! I did... maybe. So obviously I am freaking the absolute fuck out and I just straight up go to Junior like uuuuuu did you tell anyone you're playing this idol and he said yeah and yes he told Sarah so HAHAHA. HAH. But it's fine right? There's no way they pulled a fast one and are just voting me. Right? :') Well tribal comes around and I'm on call with Pippa and she's saying it's fine. So Junior plays and Johnny is like oh fuck. Then Drew plays. And I'm like okay? Um. Yikes. And then Sarah plays some fuck shit that doesn't work and I'm way too stressed so I play my idol! And Junior gets 8 votes! And Drew gets 2! And I get 2! And like! HELLO? So to make a long mother fuckin story short... Johnny of all people is rocked out which was FANTASTIC. CHERRY ON TOP OF THE CAKE. He knew about the villains and the beauty idol so like he could go! Too strong. And he had to get blindsided soon anyway. So Johnny I love you dude and I actually gained way more of a liking to you than I already did from hosting you so you're awesome but WHEW. FAREWELL. And now it's the fallout. Honestly? That's the most pure euphoria I've ever felt in a single moment in a game. And after hearing all the info I have, I think I have this mostly figured out. I freak a little in the chat and Tommy tells me he voted Junior which would make sense because he got 8 votes. Sarah comes and tells me she didn't vote for me, and says that she knows I voted her which w/e be a Petty Betty™ but she says that maybe if someone told her who voted her then maybe she'd tell me who voted me and I think I finally convinced her it wasn't me because I said at this point I'd trade the info? But idk oh well. Also Crow doesn't come forward confirming or denying he voted me, and I approached Brian and he admitted he voted me. Which btw that was the first time we talked in a while, and it's also just some outside of the game things but I think we ultimately hashed everything out. Anyway, Junior voted Drew so my votes were Brian and one of Sarah or Crow. And the other voted Drew. And I'll be pissed if Crow voted me tbh. But we'll see. The thing is though, Crow said to Pippa and I that himself, Sarah, Brian, and Tommy were all on call and typed in Junior, and then stepped away from their computers or something. Which is a damn lie obviously. So I decided to look back at the merge chat during tribal for shits and giggles, and then the reactions of the villains when I played my idol in particular made shit click. They were pretty standard when Junior and Drew played, but when I played was when Crow, Brian, and Sarah started yelling about rocks. And in the back of my mind I didn't think of it much at first but I was just like okay I guess? And then Crow comes to my pms and say congrats on avoiding rocks which was also confusing. But it didn't hit me till after re reading the chat that they definitely split on purpose, and the villains knew that once I played that all of the votes were gonna be null. And they were gonna go to rocks. So now I have to keep an eye out on Crow. Because there's no way he didn't know this was happening. It's all just so sketchy and idk where to go from here, but I know I need Sarah out. She's just way too chaotic, and in a weird way she saved me by sketching me out at 9:01 but also she makes everything very chaotic. She's grown on me personally but she's wild to play with. I guess I can just make a confessional on what happens now because I have shit to say about talks I had with Steffen and Drew. And this confessional got thicc as fuck so. Hope whoever read this essay enjoyed the reading material!

hi loves it's been a while! after i went through my therapy sessions, I decided that it was time to pick up the pieces of my emotional stability and make a fragile little glass ball! and then guess what happened! these fucking fools shattered it. So after merge, i came in thinking lil crow could blend into the shadows and take a day to relax! but then crow is told he has to pick a side immediately and vote out Kendall w/ Johnny/Pippa/Andrew or Junior w/ Sarah/Brian/Drew crow voted Junior cuz junior is a snake that crow has warned others about! junior stayed! kendall went. i was in minority. so after that, i ghosted the hoes. I was over it, i had more important things than these people, but then im alerted that its "me or brian" HELL NO. OH DONT U EVEN DARE TRY AND TARGET ME AND MY SON so crow caused a little bit of chaos with bullshit lies. he told andrew/pippa that he heard they wanted him out (which he didn't!) and then told hinted to johnny that the heroes were cracking (which probably was true but crow had no proof!) ALSO, he threw out trace's name for the lolz! then after I sat back and let them rat me out (cuz i know they're all rats!) they caused their own paranoia, erasing mine and Brian's name from the slate. =) in a last ditch effort to have comfort in numbers, a group was formed to vote out the ultimate snake, junior. 8 minutes b4 tribal junior comes to me asking to work with me and build trust and yadada and knowing there was a good chance he had an idol, crow played phony and told him that we needed to keep the villains strong! (thus protecting his core of brian and sarah). he agreed and suggested to vote drew, so i pretended to agree! then when junior, drew, and andrew pulled idols out of their asses, i sat pretty knowing I received no votes - but nervous about the inevitable rocks. then i drew a rock and production really TRIED me by putting me at #2 but im better than them and survived! so now im sitting in final 11 with my besties and in a somewhat decent position for a change! =)

Andrew is a paranoid ass hoe, first he thinks the second vote for him came from Sarah, then Drew....when in actuality I was the one who tried blindsiding him last tribal, I swear at this point this boy is spilling all this anti-Drew tea to me and now I'm just reveling in it because I still know Drew has an idol and when Andrew feels its time to strike, tbh it'll be time to use that idol on Drew and destroy Andrew in the process, making Drew a bigger target and next to go tbh, but right now we just need Sarah to use her idol, then take a villain out and our villainous plot will be in motion, I like evil

So Pippa or myself might be dying. Drew voted me according to Junior along with Brian who I knew bc Drew is still convinced I gave Crow the idol which yes I did but. Leave me alone! Honestly just trying to get Sarah out this round but she has that weird reset idol and also could have a merge idol so idk man. I kinda have a bad feeling about tonight and if I get these double digits again catch me going into a major depressive episode! Trace and I decided on Sarah early this morning and seemingly got Dom and Steffen on board? Dom I guess is hero strong and Steffen... I really hope he wouldn't vote me out. Or even Pippa. And then Junior wants Sarah out so like here we go I guess! Idk what the fuck Drew is gonna do because he's a snake. Sarah requested us working together today but it was bullshit. Lmao! Farewell! I'm probably dead. Or Pippa is. Last weird thing is I guess is I told Crow it's me or myself (played dumb about if it could be Pippa) and he said he wasn't letting either of those things happening? Idk! If Crow can work some magic and save me that's fine. Idk man. A bird will either save me or kill me tonight. Or Drew. Or Sarah. Pippa? BEYONCE? I'm so tired can we just have the tribal already? Also if Steffen flips I'm snapping his neck.

So if everyone votes the way they say they are, no weird items are played, and Crow throws his vote, then it could really go to rocks. Fuck! 15 minutes till my imminent death at 11th place :')

I finna think Sarah's gonna die this round and I miss her already.  A true fucking queen.  I'm so glad I finally worked with a girl in a game and that it was her because I couldn't imagine playing with anyone else.