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neptuneiris · 4 months ago

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Only You | Part Two

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (friend with benefits)

summary: time has passed, a new semester begins and the phantom memories of him come back to your mind on a specific day that makes you rethink your whole idea to let him back into your life.

words: 12.4k

previous part • my masterlist

okay before you read, i want to clarify one thing 😬 i know summer vacations were mentioned, but i came up with a last minute valentine's day idea so i will mention winter vacations now.

i know it doesn't make sense, it should make sense but i would have to change the whole first part, so this second part will be delayed. so please give me time to correct the first part, I will do it as soon as I can. i hope you don't mind and enjoy the chapter a lot 🙏🏽 thank you so much for reading!

AEMOND POV

The vibration of his phone makes him look away from his book.

The faint sound echoes in the library and with a serious look on his face, he immediately takes his fingers to turn off the device, not wanting to be disturbed now by whoever it is. Right now his projects have him so pressured and frustrated that he simply doesn't want any distractions.

But as he looks at the screen, he stops. And he reads the name of the person calling him: Cerelle.

She's not just anyone. So before he knows it, he quickly gets up from his seat and heads for the doors, picking up.

“Hey.”

He doesn't hear her immediate response, what he hears instead are whimpers and low sobs.

He pauses for a moment, his heart skipping a beat. He listens more carefully and she sniffles, letting out a small sigh only to cry again. Then he lets out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair, already imagining what's going on.

“Cerelle.”

He says her name in a low, soft tone, which makes her finally speak.

“I-I… I'm sorry,” she says in a shaky, low, vulnerable voice, ”I know you're probably busy and I didn't want to bother you. B-but…” her voice breaks.

She needs him.

He clenches his jaw tightly, annoyed, frustrated but mostly worried. He hates when she's like this. He hates seeing her and hearing her cry. He hates when he knows she's like this, again, because of his idiot brother.

“What happened?”

She sniffles and cries again, failing to form words at that moment. And then it's the signal for him, to go back inside the library to go get his things.

“Can I see you? P-please?”

“Don't worry. I'm on my way.”

She lets out a sigh. Maybe of exhaustion or relief. He doesn't know. He doesn't really care as he quickly heads off campus, car keys in hand.

“Thank you, Aemond.”

The drive to Cerelle's house feels longer than it really is. It's not the first time she's called him in that state, crying with a shaky, broken voice. And he also knows it won't be the last.

When he arrives at her house, she receives him at the entrance and immediately hugs him, clings to his strong body crying disconsolately in his arms and he holds her instantly.

He always does.

It doesn't even need to be said, he already knows, because he's heard that story many times before. It's nothing new. Yet he hates it.

He hates how Aegon makes her cry to the point of turning her into this, a heartbroken mess with his cruel tactless words and empathy-less behavior. And he finds it harder and harder not to lose control.

But he doesn't do it for her. Because she asks him to just hold her and not leave her alone.

They both go up to her room in silence, where there is no one in the corridors except for a few figures of the employees slipping by.

They both lie down on her bed and Cerelle clings to him again, hugging him tightly and Aemond pulls her tighter against him, wanting to make her feel comfortable and safe.

He strokes her hair, a repetitive and reassuring gesture as he lets time pass. Her tears slowly soak his shirt, but he doesn't care. Until she speaks, her voice barely a whisper.

“You really weren't busy when I called you?”

He rests his chin on her head and makes a slightly tighter grip of his arms around her body.

“No,” he lies, his tone soft, knowing he would give up any commitment to be there for her.

She lets out a small sigh and inhales the scent wafting from his clean clothes and also from his cologne, so masculine and comforting. His fingers continue to trace soft patterns in her hair, while his other hand draws comforting circles on her back.

“Why am I not enough?”

She asks him, raising her gaze to his, tears streaming down her cheeks and a look full of doubt and pain.

He lowers his gaze to her instantly upon hearing her words and frowns slightly, not understanding how she could think such a thing, when she is the most beautiful and perfect girl he has ever met.

He shakes his head slightly, running a hand down her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

“Don't say that. You're enough. He's the one who's not worth it.”

His hand slides down her back in an automatic gesture, slow and soothing. She sighs against his neck, relaxing slightly and Aemond feels his own breathing grow heavy.

“I don't know why I keep doing this,” she whispers, almost to herself.

Something inside Aemond moves and something inside him ignites.

Hope.

Hope that she is saying that, because she has finally opened her eyes. Because she has finally understood, that Aegon will never change for her.

That everything she is going to receive from him, will only be a moment of comfort to again make it clear to her, with his cruel words, that everything is casual.

Has she finally changed her mind this time?

Has she finally had enough of the situation this time?

Will she finally choose and love him this time?

Hope, illusion, longing, everything is mixed up in him. Happiness, even. And she only ignites that spark in him more, by embracing him with a firmer grip. As if she's afraid he'll leave. But they both know he's not capable of it.

“Stay with me, please. I don't want to be alone.”

The plea strikes his heart. Aemond closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting the anger, frustration and helplessness dissolve into the thick air of the room, to make way for all those positive feelings he's having.

“You know I won't leave,” he promises her.

He feels the tickle of her nose nuzzling the side of his neck and of her warm breath crashing against his skin in one of his most sensitive areas.

Aemond lets his nose sink a little deeper into her hair, inhaling of her sweet scent. And then, she tilts her head a little, leaving a soft kiss on his neck.

He tenses instantly. He can't help himself.

His breathing becomes ragged, as his hand still on her back, clinging a little tighter.

“Cerelle,” he murmurs her name.

She continues.

Another kiss, firmer this time, just above his collarbone. Then another, moving up his neck, leaving him breathless. His whole body reacts to the touch, to her closeness, to the way she clings to him desperately, needing him.

And Aemond knows that, they shouldn't. That he, more than anyone else, should be strong. To remember that, when the moment is over, she will come back to him like the other times before. To his brother.

But her words and his thoughts, clinging to him that maybe there will be a chance after this, make him not want to stop. And they remind him, he's never been strong when it comes to her.

Then, in a slow movement, he tilts his head, seeking her face.

She looks up at him, her eyes still reddened, with traces of tears on her cheeks. But this time, there is something else in her gaze. Something that destroys him and revives him at the same time.

Desire.

He lifts a hand and slides it up to her face, carefully, devotedly. His thumb brushes her lower lip, and he feels the tremor in her skin, in her breath. And then, she is the one who closes the distance and Aemond surrenders. Surrenders as he has always done with her.

He reciprocates her kiss. He kisses her.

Slow, deep, taking his time. And she settles her body even more against his, pressing herself against him, needing this, him. Her fingers sink into his hair, deepening the kiss, needing to feel him everywhere, needing him to touch her everywhere and make her his.

And that's what he does, hopeful at all times inside him.

However, he shouldn't have let his thoughts let him get carried away. Because this is nothing new either. Cerelle repeats the same words over and over again at his most vulnerable moment, igniting hope in him. And in the end, there is no change and the pattern repeats itself.

As always, he is there.

It is here, in his arms, where she always ends up. But he knows it's not where she wants to. Because he's her fucking comfort, the temporary refuge.

And worst of all, he allows it, always. But deep down, they both know that, her words are worthless and eventually, she will come back to him. To his brother.

So the only thing he can do, is to hold her as long as he can.

He stays with her all afternoon and has the idea that she will tell him to stay like this for the rest of the day, just the two of them. But then one of the Baratheon sisters calls her and the party at the Martell house looks like a good distraction.

Aemond says nothing as Cerelle tells him they can spend another night together, so he just says goodbye and goes to his apartment, not being in the mood to actually go to any party.

But just knowing that she will be there has him getting ready to be able to spend more time with her. Not directly but to be around her, to see her and take care of her from a distance.

And the hope is still inside him.

The hope that her words have been real. That their moment together this afternoon has meant something. That she has finally understood and finally sees only him.

So he heads to the party and when he arrives, Aegon is already there, as are his other childhood friends. He greets everyone, doesn't really talk much, just has a beer, lights a cigarette and begins to relax, when his gaze inevitably begins to seek her out.

And when he sees her, she is beautiful.

Her figure, her face, her hair, everything about her is the only thing that stands out for him in the whole place. And when he sees her, smiling, talking to people, laughing and dancing… he can't take his eyes off her.

She's the one interesting thing, the one thing that shines the brightest, the one girl he catches his eye and who he could look at all day long without getting tired of it. He just wants to hold her, hug her, kiss her and never let her go.

She is perfect. She has been since they've both been kids.

But then, someone else comes into the picture. Someone catches her eye. Someone draws her in. Someone makes her disconnect from all the people around her to focus only on that one person.

Someone who is not him. It is never him.

Because it is Aegon. It's always Aegon.

The same guy who has made it clear to her multiple times that he doesn't want anything serious with her. The guy who has always made his intentions clear from the beginning, that everything to him is just casual, even drawing the line at every turn and the one who is hard on her to make her understand that he doesn't want her, not really, making her cry.

And yet… Cerelle has hope.

It seems like the fight they had didn't even happen. She keeps allowing him into her life. She keeps allowing herself to get involved with him like that, to hold on to the hope that he's going to change for her.

And then, they both disappear.

Something that does not go unnoticed by Aemond, because it is nothing new. For him, nothing is. In fact, it's another constant pattern in his life. And he sees it every time.

The two of them fight, Cerelle looks for him in tears, he comforts her because he can't afford to reject her and because he couldn't do that to her. Then he hopes that she will finally leave Aegon behind but she comes back to him and they fight again, making him see how the cycle doesn't end and repeats itself over and over again.

However, he has not gotten used to it. A snort leaves his lips as he watches the two of them walk up the stairs together, as he shakes his head slightly and averts his gaze, unable to believe this is happening again.

He clenches his jaw and takes a long swig from his bottle, with a serious look full of bitterness.

The constant ringing and vibrating of his phone catches his attention, annoying him. Irritated, he takes it out of his pocket, looking at it briefly without focusing on the missed calls he has and all the messages he hasn't read.

He only focuses on the messages he just received from Cregan.

Dude, are you coming?

We're all here.

He frowns slightly, having no idea what he is talking about. He also decides not to respond, simply puts his phone away again and then focuses on the stairs.

He doesn't know exactly how long it takes him to get a little distracted, unable to relax any longer knowing that in one of the rooms is her with his stupid brother.

Kissing her and touching her, making her make those sweet sounds that come out of her mouth that he has so often had her make for him.

The mere thought of the two of them together, like that, when it should be just him, makes him rage and make him clench his bottle tightly.

Until finally, Aegon emerges from one of the rooms, buttoning his breeches and with his messy hair. He stumbles a bit and has a smirk on his face, returning to the party as if it were nothing.

It's obvious he doesn't care about her, because that's all he's interested in, a quick fuck, leaving her behind like she's worthless.

Then Aemond heads to the bedroom, upset and annoyed.

He enters and sees her fixing her hair in front of the mirror. But as soon as he crosses the door frame, she immediately sees him through the glass and freezes for a moment.

Aemond watches her seriously as he closes the door behind him and leans against the wood, not taking his intense gaze off her.

Then several minutes pass, long minutes in fact, where neither of them say anything. They just stare at each other.

She is too embarrassed to say anything.

And he's an idiot for thinking, again, that she had finally understood that Aegon will never change for her. So he speaks first when it's clear she won't.

“Are you serious? After today, after he made you cry, you just come crawling back to him?”

She lets out a long breath, tired. Because it's a conversation they've had before, countless times. They always have it.

“Aemond—

“Why do you keep doing this?”

He demands to know, stepping in and walking towards her.

“Why do you let him hurt you again after proving to you over and over again that this is all he wants you for?”

She turns to him, looking at him seriously and guiltily. Of course, not for sleeping with Aegon. No. But for what happened between the two of them this afternoon and for him finding out, again.

“You don't understand—

“What don't I understand?” he interrupts her instantly, his voice serious and full of reproach, hurt, ”Are you really so blind that you don't see the reality of things? Can't you see that he won't change for you?”

His words make her gaze harden. And soon, she too uses a tone of voice similar to his, matching his temper.

“You don't know that.”

“The whole fucking world knows that, Cerelle.”

“This is none of your business.”

He parts his lips, genuinely surprised and confused.

“What?”

Cerelle falters for a second at the sight of his expression. But only for a moment, to again place a serious and firm gaze, watching him with some remorse as well.

But it's more the fact that she wants to make everyone around her, and herself as well, believe that she has hope with Aegon.

“Whatever happens between your brother and me… it is none of your business, Aemond.”

He watches her silently for a moment, incredulous. He shakes his head slightly with a small bitter smile, unable to believe what she is doing.

“It's none of my business, you say?” he repeats and watches her completely serious, ”So it's none of my business when you come looking for me after he makes you cry and ends up treating you like shit?”

That one hurt.

He sees it in her look as she finally drops her tough-girl armor. And that should have made him feel better, by proving her right, but the reality is that it doesn't. He hates seeing her like that, with her crystal eyes and her gaze lowered, saying nothing more.

He lets out a long breath and walks towards her, closing the distance between them. He lifts his hands and holds her face, watching her with all the adoration in his gaze. He watches her with love, with weakness and tenderness.

But also hurt, because she still doesn't understand. Because she doesn't see him the same way he sees her.

“Listen to me…” he says low and soft, stroking her smooth cheek with his thumb, ”I wouldn't make you feel that way. Ever. And you know it.”

Cerelle watches him sadly and remorsefully, shaking her head slightly to raise her hands and place them on top of his.

“Aemond—

“No, please, listen to me,” he interrupts her immediately, tightening his grip on her face, ”Why don't you just forget about him and try it with me?”

He tells her, no, begs her.

“Just…forget about him. You know we can work together.”

“Aemond, we've already talked about this—

“He's not worth it. He doesn't deserve you. But I do. I'd give you everything, everything. The whole fucking world if you ask me to,” he insists.

“Aemond—

“Please, just—

“You're not him!” she exclaims loudly, stopping him.

For an instant, Aemond stands completely still, as if those words have pierced his chest. His breath hitches and his lips part slightly.

He blinks slowly, analyzing her, looking for something in her gaze, some doubt or some hint that she is not meaning it. But there isn't.

The words get stuck in her throat, as Cerelle watches him with remorse and sadness as she notices his broken expression that he so desperately tries to hide, breaking his heart over and over again.

Then she purses her lips and lowers her gaze, as if she hates what she is about to say. But still, she says it.

“I know it's hard to understand. I wonder the same thing too, I wonder why I can't love you too,” she says exasperated, frustrated, ”Why do I keep doing this to myself. Why I can't choose you. But it's just… I can't help it and you…” she shrugs, shaking her head with a sad look, ”You're not him.”

Aemond watches her silently and finally his gaze recomposes itself, a serious and bitter look, the one he shows everyone. He clenches his jaw and releases her, taking a step back.

Then he laughs. An empty, bitter laugh. He shakes his head as he averts his gaze from her and runs a hand over his face before looking at her again, his gaze hard.

“Then do me a favor…

He says after, leaving the rest of what he wants to say up in the air as she looks at him caught between guilt and resignation.

“Don't come looking for me again after he tells you to fuck off again,” he finally says.

Cerelle closes her eyes for a moment, as if his words were a certain blow. Aemond steps back again, watching her, seeing what she is thinking and what she will actually do, just as he does.

“But you will, won't you?” his tone is bitter, mocking, but deep down it's just pure pain, ”As if I don't know what this is like. Us,” he points between the two of them with his finger.

He shakes his head in disbelief, with a restrained fury that threatens to boil over at any moment.

“I don't know why I'm even saying this either. Because we both know you'll be cruel enough to call me back…” he says, his gaze darkening. “And I'll be an idiot enough to be there for you again.”

She opens her mouth, maybe to protest, to say something, but she doesn't. She has nothing to say, because she knows he's right. So she can only say his name, in supplication.

“Aemond—

He lets out a hollow laugh, another one, in disbelief. Stopping her. And then he exhales wearily, his posture no longer one of fight, but of surrender.

“It's always the same thing.”

Cerelle's eyes fill with tears, but she doesn't let them fall. She just watches him, with a pain that is not enough for him.

“I'm sorry.”

He shakes his head, with a crooked smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“No, you're not. You're not sorry.”

He doesn't let her say anything else. He doesn't either, because he's already tired and has nothing more to say.

So he simply turns around and walks out of the room slamming the door, annoyed, angry and clenching his jaw helplessly. But the truth is… he can't be mad at her.

Even he doesn't believe everything he has said.

Because he knows, just like Cerelle, that if she calls him, he'll answer and go to her to comfort her the second. Always.

And that's what makes him feel most upset of all. That he can't turn her away. He can't ignore her. He can't detach himself from her because he loves her, since childhood. But she's never going to love him back, because of his brother.

After that, maybe he should have gone to his apartment to get his shitty day over with. Or maybe he should have gone to clear his head somewhere else. He knows he should have gone somewhere else, except the pub.

You still remember it all too well.

You remember his touch, the feel of burning skin, his kisses, his breathing and the hypnotic way he held you under his spell.

So many moments in his bed, in his kitchen, in his living room, in his bathroom and in your dorm room. Moments you don't think you can leave behind so easily, when all you want is to live them again. To experience that feeling again, even if it was just between the two of you.

But you also remember that night, at that party, when you found out about her.

A party at the fraternity of Aegon Targaryen, Aemond's older brother, which was at it's peak. The crowd moved to the rhythm of the music, which echoed off the walls, with the air charged with the smell of alcohol, perfume, cigarettes and weed.

Outside, in the huge garden, students gathered around the illuminated swimming pool, while inside the huge house the atmosphere was more tense and noisy.

You were sitting at the kitchen counter, with a glass of water between your fingers, feeling the sweat on your skin after having danced with Alysanne and Sara for more than an hour.

You caught your breath and rested your feet a bit, while they continued dancing through the crowd. You let out a long breath, looking around briefly.

Aemond was also there, with Cregan and Jason. The three of them had arrived at the party together. But, as it is always in public, he kept his distance from you.

You were used to it.

Or at least that's what you always told yourself in every situation like that when you realized it wouldn't be any different.

You bit the inside of your cheek and watched him from a distance. He was there, calm and relaxed smoking a cigarette with the guys. Like you, he was just watching the people around him as they talked to each other.

Nothing was new.

You looked away to grab your phone to check the time when a voice in your direction caught your attention.

“Y/N! How good it's to see you!”

Aegon, with a half-empty bottle in his hand and a cocked smile on his lips, told you that he's already drunk, but at least he could still hold his own.

“You want one? I think you need one.”

He told you as he stood next to you. He held something out to you and you looked at it, it being a brownie.

“Really?” you looked at it between amused and expectant.

“Come on! It's a party!”

“No thanks. I don't want to eat that,” you told him pushing it away with your hand.

“It's just a chocolate brownie,” he told you innocently.

”Weed more like it.”

He tried to convince you, when suddenly, his gaze focused on something in the crowd and his smile came hooked again.

“Oh look! My dear childhood friends.”

You watched him slightly confused and amused, watching as he walked towards a group of people quickly, stumbling.

And simply because you had nothing better to do, you watched to whom he was going. And the recognition was almost instantaneous.

Alysanne told you about how Aemond or his family, rather, have friendships with people who are just as important as they are in the world of business management.

So you recognize the children of those important people, sons and daughters of the elite, the Baratheon's, Tyrell's and Lannister's. As Aegon said, his childhood friends.

You didn't think much of it, at first. Clearly he invited them to his party and they attended. Completely normal. However, someone caught your attention.

You watched as a girl from that group, tall, impeccably dressed, beautiful, with her bright red hair falling in perfect waves down her back and wearing a dress that fit her figure perfectly, after greeting Aegon, walked over to Aemond.

Normally you wouldn't have minded, she is his childhood friend.

But… you see how she approached him so naturally, with that confidence that only someone like her can have. She kissed him gently on the cheek and then said something to him, leaning slightly towards him and placing her hand lightly around his arm.

And Aemond did not pull away.

There was no look of discomfort, no expression of indifference or seriousness. In fact, he looked relaxed, even amused and attentive to the conversation. There was a half-smile on his lips, barely visible and one he rarely let show.

You felt a flip in your chest, something thick and warm that then settled in your stomach like a stone.

You had no right to feel this way. You knew perfectly well. He doesn't belong to you. He has never promised you anything. But still, that image turned your stomach in a way you couldn't control.

Something about that interaction felt different to you. Like there was a story there, something you didn't know.

Then Alysanne came to your rescue from that moment, taking you with them again to dance. You thought about staying where you were, but you needed a distraction. So again you joined the impromptu dance floor.

However, you couldn't help but look in their direction again, wanting to see everything. But it was impossible to see it because of the partitions of the house.

And when you had visibility again, Aemond was gone.

You searched the crowd for the next few long minutes but nothing. It was as if he had vanished. He wasn't with Cregan and Jason. Nor with anyone you knew. So you stood there, expecting to see him at any moment, but nothing.

Then, you saw Aegon, drunk and very happy, enjoying the party. And without thinking, you went to him, because he is the only one you can ask without him suspecting anything. You didn't want to be obvious with your friends. And surely tomorrow he would forget all about it.

“Hey, Aegon,” you grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him towards you.

“Hey, Y/N! What's up?”

“Hum… have you seen Aemond?”

“Aemond?” he repeated, dragging out his words, “Mmm… no. I don't think so.”

You were about to speak when he turns to a girl walking by, with that characteristic red hair.

“Hey T-Tyshara,” he grabbed her arm, stopping her, “Hey, tell me something…” he said, clearly drunk as that girl gave him an annoyed look as he slipped an arm around her shoulders, “Have you seen my little brother, hm?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Who? Aemond?”

”Yeah, that one.”

She sighed, releasing from his grip.

“I think I saw him with my sister a while ago,” she said nonchalantly, ”I don't know. They left, I think.”

“What sister? Cerelle?”

“I don't have another one, you idiot.”

The girl left, giving him a look of displeasure, while you felt something inside you stop for a second. And then, Aegon let out a laugh, leaning against the wall so he wouldn't lose his balance.

“Oh, my little brother…” he said amused, ”He never gives up.”

You felt a sting in your chest and watched him completely attentively and slightly confused.

“What do you mean?” you asked him, trying to sound nonchalant.

He watched you with a lazy smile.

“Oh come on. Don't tell me you didn't know. It's so fucking obvious.”

“What's obvious?”

He laughed again, shaking his head.

“Well… Cerelle's not ugly, you know? She's beautiful. But she's not my type. She's too perfect, always wanting to be the perfect girl. And she always wants to be close to me, which annoys me.”

You frowned, not believing for a second that he was talking about that girl… Cerelle.

“I've turned her down, many times. Though, of course, we've had our moments,” he said with a smile and meaningful look, ”But she wants more. And I… I don't like that,“ he let out a dramatic sigh, ”Oh but Aemond…” he smiled amused, ”Aemond adores her. He's been in love with her forever. And she… let's just say she accepts him, but she's never wanted him in the same way.”

Suddenly, everything around you kept moving. People laughing, drinking, dancing, having a good time. But you, you were disoriented. You watched Aegon intently, only listening to the echo of his words.

And Aegon kept talking, oblivious to the rigidity of your expression and your tense posture.

“He's always there, following her around like an idiot. And she, she just likes his attention,” he said nonchalantly, ”Anyway, too bad. I can't do anything for him.”

You didn't react. You didn't say anything. You just nodded and Aegon walked away, stumbling away, while you stood alone in a corner of the party.

In that moment you knew where Aemond was and with whom. In that moment you understood the changes in his attitude, why it didn't feel anything like before.

And even though logic told you that you should end everything, whatever you had with him and that you should stop it before you hurt yourself more… you didn't do it.

On the way back to your dorm, the pain was there, weighing on your chest. And after that night, things didn't change and you understood better.

Every time there was a party hosted by Aegon, the pattern repeated itself. Cerelle would appear and at some point in the night, Aemond would disappear and then so would she.

But there were also times when, in the middle of those same parties, when Aemond was distant and serious, and she would suddenly appear, something in his expression would change. His mood would improve. Her shoulders would relax, her gaze would soften just perceptibly.

You stayed in your corner, danced with the girls, laughed with the boys, kept your smile on your face and let the night go by without showing what you felt.

You kept telling yourself that you shouldn't care and that you can't claim him because he and you are nothing.

You are not special. You are not different. You are just someone who is there, when he needs you. When no one else saw him, when he could let his guard down without fear of being judged.

And yet, you didn't leave him. You didn't want to. You couldn't. Because deep down, a part of you still hoped that, someday, he would see you as something more.

But that day, it never came.

Until he asked you to go to Dragonstone with him.

It had been a long week. With exams and final projects due, neither of you had time to rest and see each other. It was a stressful few days, with a lot of worries and responsibilities. Until finally the two of you made some space and he visited you in your dorm room.

You had missed him. So much.

You had only been able to talk by text. Rarely did he or you call each other. And finally the two of you managed to release at least a little stress before returning to the stressful reality, which wasn't over yet.

So you enjoyed the moment of holding him, of his arms around your body pulling you close to him, giving you that peculiar and divine warmth that only he can give you.

Both of you are exhausted. And for now, you can only be like this, in each other's grip, in your bed. His fingers gently and slowly caress the skin of your shoulder, while you have your face buried between his neck and chest, inhaling his delicious scent that makes you feel protected and comfortable.

Just a few more weeks and we are finally done with this semester.

You had thought then, so you could go back to the routine of before, of you in his arms. Unless he… had plans for that winter break.

You opened your eyes and stared at a mole on his shoulder specifically, thinking about it. You didn't know if you should bring up that topic, but the doubt lingered in your mind and so did the curiosity. So you decided to ask him about it.

“Will you be leaving for the winter vacations?”

You asked softly, with your nose touching his jaw, looking at a specific spot in your room.

He didn't answer for a moment, while still continuing to make those invisible lines on your skin with his long, pale fingers.

“Hm… probably,” he said in a low, husky voice against your head.

His response should not have disappointed you. You know he deserves it more than anyone else. He kills himself to get the best grades and to maintain his excellent grade point average that he should enjoy a nice, relaxing vacation.

Yet it did. Because that meant you would only have him with you those last few weeks of the semester.

“What about you?” he asked you later, ”Do you have plans?”

“Mmm… no. Not really,” you confessed.

That must have surprised him, because all his friends would be leaving King's Landing. The only thing they had been talking about, was the winter vacations.

“Why?” he asked you genuinely curious.

“Maybe I'll visit my mom and siblings for Christmas and New Year's,” you said vaguely, not really having it prepared, “And I'll come back to spend the rest of the vacations here. But I don't know,” you ran your hands down his bare back, pulling your body closer towards him if possible, ”Where will you go?”

He let out a long breath, at the same time he brought one of his hands to your cheek and lifted your gaze to him, as he lowered his to you.

“Dragonstone.”

Your eyes met his, as his thumb stroked your cheek slowly and gently.

That electricity you felt when you were with him, in that moment manifested. Neither of you spoke anymore and his lips brushed yours, as he continued his caresses and watched you as if he wanted to memorize every faction of your face in his memory.

Your breaths mingled and you loved the way your bodies seemed to fit together so perfectly.

Then, he kissed you. Slowly and precisely.

You reciprocated the kiss, as his mouth moved over yours firmly, unhurriedly. One of his hands went down to your bare lower back, caressing your skin and sending shivers down your spine, as you leaned closer to him.

You sighed against his mouth and wrapped your fingers around the base of his nape, drawing him closer to you, feeling that slight shiver run down his spine each time he exhaled against your skin.

Your lips barely parted for seconds before they met again, hungry, insatiable.

Aemond's lips slid to your jaw, then down your neck, marking a path with his warm, electrifying breath.

“Come with me.”

He said to you suddenly in a low voice, almost like a whisper against your skin, but clear enough for you to hear and open your eyes.

“What?” you said, thinking maybe you had misheard.

“Come with me.”

He repeated, never failing to mark your skin and never failing to make you sigh with every touch.

“Where to?”

You asked, your voice barely audible between your soft gasps. And Aemond didn't answer right away. Instead, he kissed you again, more intensely this time, before answering you.

“To Dragonstone.”

The kiss stopped for an instant. Not because you wanted to break away, but because his words left you momentarily breathless.

Dragonstone.

It wasn't just a vacation destination. It was his home. The island where he grew up, the place he always returned to when he wanted to get away from it all. And now he was asking you to go with him.

You couldn't move. You just watched him slightly surprised, definitely not expecting that. Instead, you were expecting him to take it back or tell you he didn't mean it.

But he just looked at you with the same intensity as always, with that indecipherable gleam in his blue eye. His hand went up to your cheek, outlining your jaw with his thumb, waiting for a response.

But instead of speaking, you kissed him again, smiling big against his lips. You felt happy, excited and illusioned because you had hope.

That must have meant something. Asking you to go with him, to that ancient and wonderful place, his home, must have meant something.

Even knowing about Cerelle, you had hope.

You have distanced yourself from your group of friends.

With the new college semester, things have changed a bit in your life.

Stricter teachers, more important and difficult subjects, more responsibilities and more pressures leading up to your graduation next year.

You still talk to them, in fact the group chat is more active than ever and you've seen them individually or in duos between classes to say hello and catch up a bit.

They still hang out in the gardens, as usual, even though most of them don't share many classes together anymore. You talk and see more with Sara and Alysanne, that's not changing at all.

The difference is that you don't share any classes with anyone and the times are more reduced between classes, except for some free hours in which you don't coincide with someone of them or the girls.

And when you say they… you don't include him.

He didn't come back to look for you since that day, when you came back to the city and he was waiting for you in front of your door. After you came back to make it clear to him that you don't want to have anything more to do with him, until now your wish has remained.

You have seen him a few times since then, from afar. Walking through the campus, you suddenly spot that distinctive silver hair in the distance blending in with the crowd.

But you avert your gaze instantly, not wanting to look any more than necessary even though it's probably Aegon. You just didn't want to know.

And you've only seen it once directly, days after the new semester started.

You were still having trouble finding your new classrooms. The directions were a bit confusing having not frequented other buildings you were used to.

It was raining. You remember it well.

And you were rushing up the stairs, already ten minutes late. When suddenly, as you turned to continue up the stairs, you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw legs in front of you in your line of sight.

You raised your gaze to apologize, as the two of you would have collided because of your speed. But as soon as your eyes took a direct look at that distinctive, bright blue staring back at you, you froze.

It was him.

And he seemed just as surprised to see you.

However, he didn't move either. Nor did he say anything. He just looked at you.

It was like going back to that day, in your residence. The rain was still pounding on the windows of the building and the hallway was almost empty. Only the distant echoes of footsteps and voices filtered between you, but at that moment everything disappeared.

You swallowed hard, unable to move, with everything that happened hitting you like a wave of memories. Your chest began to rise and fall with deep breaths.

And he, he was looking at you in an intense, burning way.

It seemed as if his mind was working at full speed, as if he was choosing what words to say carefully. As if he knew that anything he said could break what little was left between you.

And then, that's when you saw it.

It wasn't anger. It wasn't frustration. It wasn't resignation. It was a silent, desperate plea.

Talk to me.

Tell me you really don't want me anymore.

Tell me you hate me.

Tell me something.

Anything.

But you couldn't.

A lump tightened your throat, the pressure of his gaze was too much. Your heart pounded and you didn't know what to do, with every memory invading without stopping your whole mind.

However, you didn't let your thoughts and memories block you any more than necessary.

Even though he was looking at you like that, you didn't let it affect you anymore and quickly walked around him, putting enough distance between the two of you to avoid even a brush and continued on your way, leaving him behind.

That was the last time you saw him.

But that encounter, only made you couldn't stop thinking about him for the next few days.

Fortunately you haven't run into him again. And you hope it never happens. Or at least not soon. You know it's best to just move on, let go of what you both once had and stick with as much of the good as the bad.

However, he has his moments.

Vague, unexpected moments when he comes back into your mind and you remember it all. Memories of what you both went through together. Though you always don't think too much about it.

It's not something you decide to stay with all day. Then you go back to your projects, your mind gets busy and you forget about it.

One day, though, you're suddenly thinking and remembering everything about him. Too much.

It's not something you think about in a few minutes or a few hours. No. That stays with you all day long. And you can't help it. The nostalgia, the moments, the memories, it all comes back to you.

You wonder at all the things that could have been different. Of what would have happened. Questions and illusions that keep you awake even at night.

And the next day, the memory of all that was and all that could have been, is present on Valentine's fucking day.

Great.

You think as you look around you with a serious stare at all those girls with bouquets of flowers in their hands, stuffed animals, balloons and details walking around the campus.

You didn't even remember and just today your mind reminds you of him too.

Fortunately you only have three classes today, two hours each. Honestly it could be worse, since your other days, except today on Fridays, start from nine in the morning and end until seven.

You think positively that your hours will pass quickly. You just have to pay close attention, keep your mind busy and the hours will fly by.

But of course, this day is not in your favor. The hours go by incredibly long.

Even some of your classmates enter the classrooms with beautiful bouquets of flowers and details. You also see boys with flowers in their hands, among other details that make you roll your eyes and groan internally.

Everything is so beautiful, so pretty and so ideal that you want to be one of those girls. You also want to be given a bouquet of roses.

But no. Today you are a spectator.

And when your classes are finally over, you feel a little pathetic walking across campus back to your dorm with your hands empty compared to the many girls around you carrying their gifts.

So you pick up your pace, wanting to get to your room as soon as possible not wanting to see any more of this.

You greet some girls you meet at the entrance to your dorm, both holding a rose in their hands and head towards the stairs, when a voice stops you.

“Y/L/N!”

You turn around and notice Miranda, the woman who works as the receptionist at this residence. You frown slightly and head towards her desk, as you rarely speak to her.

“Yes?”

“They left something for you,” she lets you know.

The frown on your forehead furrows further, confused.

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. It says your name.”

You shake your head slightly, since you don't get anything. And if you do, whether it's from your mom, which has been very few times, she lets you know, always.

So you wait expectantly and she finally lets you see it, lifting it slightly in the air to place it on the table in front of you.

Your breath catches the instant you see it.

With your lips parted, completely surprised and in disbelief, she hands you a beautiful bouquet of flowers. But not just any flowers. They are hydrangeas, your favorite.

White and purple, your favorite color, all together they make a beautiful flower bouquet for you.

You gently run your fingertips over their petals, admiring it and not being able to believe that this is for you. Even for a moment you think it might be a mistake, even though they are precisely your favorite flowers and colors.

But Miranda is right. There is a small card tied to the bouquet that says your name.

But who gave this to you?

“Thank you.”

You say to Miranda, taking it in your hands and arms once you come out of your surprise.

And you quickly try to recompose your reaction, as you didn't want to look like a girl who has never received flowers in her life or who isn't used to such details on days like this.

But too late, you've already made the impression.

You go up to your dorm room and leave the bouquet on your desk. Having no idea who sent this to you. But then, a person comes to your mind.

Is it possible…?

No. Absolutely not.

The idea is ridiculous. It can't be. You only think about him because you haven't stopped remembering him for two whole days now and it just can't be.

And now seeing the little card, you don't want to open it.

What will you feel? Happiness or disappointment if it's not him? You don't know. And you don't want to find out.

But as you look at the card, curiosity and uneasiness only take over you more and more. You stare at it as if you could burn it with your gaze, nervous and unsure.

And once your patience is worn out, you finally take it and open it, simply reading it without further ado, wanting to know who it was.

When then, your breath catches again and your heart skips a huge beat.

I know it's too late now, but this was what I was supposed to give you on your birthday. I regret that day and the day you came back. I didn't express myself the right way and I didn't mean everything I said to you. I still think about you, all the time. Only you.

Your throat closes.

You read the words over and over again, surprised, wanting to make sure you're getting the message right, not getting it wrong.

But it's as clear as day. It's him. It's definitely him.

Your fingers squeeze the note, feeling the tremor in your hands and beginning to feel your emotions begin to invade you.

Your mind flashes back to that day, your birthday. To his voice, to his gaze. To the way every word he said to you tore you up inside. To the way you ended it all. And to the way he tried to get close to you afterwards. But now… this.

You don't know what's worse.

You return your gaze to your flowers, so beautiful and so perfect, with a sad look.

You once told him that these flowers are your favorite. Just once. And you thought he wasn't even paying attention to you. But this is confirmation that he did, he remembered.

I still think about you. All the time.

You close your eyes and drop heavily onto your bed, bringing a hand to your forehead and letting out a long breath, then stare at a blank spot on your ceiling, doing nothing.

He is still thinking about you. And worst of all, you haven't stopped thinking about him either.

But now, what should you do?

You sit up slowly, feeling the stiffness in your muscles, the restlessness in your chest. You look at the flowers again, their delicate white and purple petals spreading before you.

He still thinks of you.

Your mind repeats, but… what does that really mean?

He says he's sorry, he regrets, but is it enough?

Words and flowers can erase everything that happened? You should unblock him and thank him for the gesture? You should talk to him? But what is going to happen with Cerelle? He is choosing you but he is still going to keep her?

You don't know anything. And you don't know if you want to know.

Part of you wants to hold on to this, wants to believe that there's something still between you, something worth saving. But the other part, the part that still remembers the pain, forces you to stand firm.

You sigh heavily, running a hand through your hair as your gaze returns to his note.

Maybe you should ignore it. You should pretend you never received it.

But the problem is, now that you've read it, now that you know Aemond is still there, in the distance, thinking of you… you can't pretend you don't care.

But you don't know what to do either.

Two weeks have passed.

Two weeks since you received the hydrangeas and that note that has kept you awake at night.

Two weeks in which your life followed the same course. Your classes, your projects, even outings with your friends have gone on as normal.

Two weeks in which you haven't made a decision. Or actually, you haven't been able to.

And every time you find yourself alone, your mind goes back to the same old question: what should you do?

But you never have the answer.

You know it's not an easy decision. And you don't want to take it lightly because you don't want to make the wrong one.

So you've put it off, telling yourself you need time. But that time has only led you to be thinking about him almost all the time. His memory is not just an echo in your mind, but something constant.

And oddly enough, you started seeing him more frequently on campus. From afar, never too close, whether it was in the hallways, in the gardens, common areas or leaving one building while you were entering another.

His silver hair always gave him away. But he didn't see you. That's the difference. He doesn't notice you. And you feel like the universe is mocking you by constantly putting him in your path.

You wondered if it was a coincidence. You wondered if you should do something about it all. And every time the doubt appeared, you ignored it, convincing yourself that the right thing to do was to move on so you could think better of it.

But in the end, you didn't make a decision.

And it seemed like you finally had, when you found yourself with your gaze fixed on the screen of your phone, staring at the 'unlock' button on Aemond's contact.

You thought about doing it, sending him a message or even calling him, giving him a chance to talk. But after staring at the screen for who knows how long, completely unsure and biting the inside of your cheek too hard, you'd get frustrated and put the device aside, really not wanting to make the wrong decision.

He hasn't looked you up since Valentine's Day either. He must have done it, right?

Who knows, maybe to try again to talk to you. But he didn't, because he knew you would probably reject him and not give him the chance.

You let out a long breath, feeling like this is all torture. You haven't been fully focused in your classes, you've fallen behind on some projects, you haven't prepared enough for your exams and… you don't know what the fuck to do.

Until finally, one day, sick of it all, you made a decision.

The decision wasn't sudden, but the moment you realized you couldn't avoid it anymore was.

You know it can end badly or it can end well. You have no idea which it will. But you will when you finally do something about it.

So you text Cregan, asking him what time Aemond usually goes to the library and he tells you without a problem. The library is the place where you know you're bound to find him, so once your classes are over around the time he's supposed to be there, you head over to him.

Maybe you should have texted or called him before?

Your nervous mind tells you as you walk, without stopping. You watch curiously as it is raining again, having no idea why it is always raining when something related to him is happening.

But you don't care.

You hold your coat against your body, protecting yourself from the cold, but nothing could protect you from the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Every step brought you closer to him, and with every meter you walked, the certainty of what you were about to do became more real. You're so nervous. You don't even know exactly what you're going to say to him. It's been so long since you last spoke to him. And yet, he still has this effect on you.

When the entrance to the huge library is finally only a few meters away from you, you feel like your heart is definitely going to burst out of your chest. But before you regret it, you push yourself to walk through those doors, knowing it's now or never.

You feel the immediate change in the atmosphere. The sound of the rain becomes a distant murmur, replaced by the faint rustle of pages and the occasional low murmur of students sitting at tables or between shelves.

You move among them, hands tucked inside your coat pockets to keep them from noticing that you're shaking. You slowly walk around the place, looking in every action, trying to find that silver hair.

Until you see him.

Obviously it's not hard at all. And again, you freeze, just watching him from a distance.

You can turn on your heels and walk away, pretend you've never been here and forget it, leave things as they are. He wouldn't even notice, because he hasn't noticed your presence and doesn't feel your gaze on him.

So that's the easiest thing to do. Avoid hurting yourself, protect yourself, in case this is a very bad idea.

But the truth is, you can't keep fooling yourself.

You really want to do this.

You want to clear the air once and for all. You can choose to continue if it's good for you and what you really want. But if not… then finally end it all as it should be.

You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs along with courage. You press your lips together, still having your gaze fixed on him. And then, cautiously, you take the first step, then another, another, and another. Until finally you are only a few feet away from him.

He hasn't noticed you yet. But you have no doubt he will soon. And you don't want it to be awkward, so you have to talk to him, call out to him. Nervous, your steps are a little slower, but sure, towards him.

You open your mouth, you're about to say his name when suddenly:

“Aemond.”

But you don't say it.

Someone else says it behind you.

You watch beside you and immediately that red hair appears in your line of sight, walking quickly towards him and catching his attention, as well as yours.

You stand still, watching as she walks towards him, with every plan you had in mind now simply forgotten. And then, he sees you.

He parts his lips, slightly surprised, you don't know if it's because of you or her, but his eye is fixed on you, watching as you had every intention of speaking to him, of heading towards him.

And then, just as surprised, he watches Cerelle too, right in front of you. Not understanding anything. But you do.

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew it, but you convinced yourself you could handle it. But now, with her in the middle, as she has always been, you feel your heart sink in your chest and you suddenly feel very small.

Discomfort grows in your chest and suddenly your hands can't stop shaking, feeling clumsy and heavy.

And you don't want to stay here, watching as he's going to choose her, again.

You bite the inside of your cheek and try to control your overflowing emotions, staring at the ground, that you don't even realize he's looking at you.

And when you give him one last glance, you see his attentive expression, surprised and with something else. Something you can't figure out because your mind is too busy telling you to leave. And that's what you do.

You spin on your heels as quickly as your determination crumbles and walk away without looking back.

You walk through the library doors and the cold rain air hits your face, but you don't stop. You just want to go to your room, to forget all of this, to finally put it behind you.

Your heart pounds as you walk at a fast pace, hugging yourself in an attempt to find some solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions that consumes you. The skin on your arms bristles from the cold breeze that sneaks through your clothes.

And although it's not raining hard, the air is permeated with moisture.

Your gaze is kept low, avoiding anyone who passes you, concentrating only on getting to your residence. But as you move forward, you realize something: you can't leave on foot.

Not like this. Not when the rain is too heavy and there's no sign that it will pass quickly. And you don't even have an umbrella with you.

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. Maybe you could call an Uber or wait for it to calm down a bit. You don't have much choice, but you also don't have the energy to think of a better solution.

Then, just as you're about to turn in the direction of one of the coffee shops or with another of the libraries on campus in mind to wait and at the same time make progress on projects, a firm, familiar voice stops you.

“Wait!”

Your body instantly freezes, as if every fiber of your being instantly recognizes the soft, confident tone of his voice. The sound echoes through the air, dissipating any other noise around you.

You don't need to turn around to know who it is. You know.

His footsteps are getting closer and closer, you can hear it perfectly. And when you turn around, he's right in front of you.

Confused, you see how his gaze is fixed on you, with his spotless dark jacket, his backpack hanging from his shoulder and his relaxed but firm posture. He is actually standing in front of you. And your chest tightens with a mixture confusion and something else, something you can't quite name.

You don't understand why he's here, why he's not with her, why he's looking for you. And you don't get a chance to ask because he speaks again.

“Let me drive you.”

Confusion takes root in you more strongly, creating an uncomfortable emptiness in your stomach. You blink, trying to decipher what's going on, trying to understand why he's telling you that, why he seems so determined.

He looks at you with the same impenetrable expression as always. And you say nothing, because you don't know what to say. Your lips part in an attempt to respond, but your voice gets stuck in your throat when, behind him, a figure catches your attention.

And then you see her.

Cerelle.

She stands in the distance, at the entrance to the library, her large, bright eyes fixed on Aemond, watching him with a mixture of confusion, despair and sadness. Her posture is rigid, her lips slightly parted as if she is about to call out to him, but she doesn't. She just stands there, watching him, waiting.

She waits for him to look at her, to turn and for him to come back to her.

But he doesn't.

And you don't understand.

Every part of you screams that this is wrong, that this shouldn't be happening, that he shouldn't be here with you when she's clearly waiting for him. So, without much thought, the question escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“But don't you have to go with her?”

The words hang suspended between you. Aemond blinks, but doesn't answer right away. He just watches you silently, his jaw tense, his expression indecipherable.

And you watch him intently, to watch her again and him again, with the silence dragging on too long. Until finally, in a low, soft, firm tone he speaks.

“Let's go.”

He doesn't answer your question. He doesn't look back. He just says those words, clear and decisive.

And that should be enough for you to refuse, to insist on an answer, to tell him you want no part of this. Not again.

But he's overconfident, as if he's making a decision, leaving her behind. And a part of you, the most vulnerable and desperate part, wants to understand what's going on. It wants explanations.

So you nod.

You say nothing more as he places a hand on your shoulder cautiously and gently, to begin directing you toward one of the parking spaces.

He opens the passenger door for you and you settle into the seat with the sound of rain hitting the windshield in the background. He starts the engine, the heater begins to fill the interior with warm, enveloping air, but the silence between you is almost unbearable.

The drive is short, just a few minutes as your residence is not far away, but every second feels eternal. Neither of you speaks. You don't even look at each other.

Until finally, Aemond pulls up in front of your building and breaks the silence.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

Your gaze lingers on your hands, on how your fingertips trace invisible lines on your pants. You don't know where to start, don't even know if there's still any point in saying anything.

Still, you nod. But you don't fully answer his question.

“I thought you were going with her,” you mutter, without thinking too hard.

The tension in the car intensifies. Aemond says nothing. He doesn't respond. And for some reason, that makes your chest tighten even more.

And instead of answering, he simply points to your building with a slight nod of his head.

“Can I come up with you?”

Your breath catches in your throat. You look up at him, actually seeing him for the first time since he stopped you in the middle of the hallway.

And the only truth that resonates in your head is that you don't understand anything. You don't understand why he's here, why he's asking you this. But after a long second, finally, you nod.

And without another word, you both get out of the car and head to your dorm room.

Your door closes behind Aemond with a faint click. But the sound echoes in the air like an echo. Everything around you feels strangely quiet. The air is thick, charged with an almost palpable tension, and you can feel Aemond's presence behind you, so close that you can feel the warmth he exudes.

Nerves invade you and you move away from him, as if he burns you. You don't know what to do or what to say because the truth is that you still don't fully understand how you got here.

So long without seeing him, without talking to him and now suddenly, he is here.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. You take off your jacket with a mechanical gesture and drop it on your bed. Aemond takes off his as well, leaving it on the back of your chair next to your desk.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, unsure, a little uncomfortable, and watch as he paces around your room, as if it's been a long time since he was last here.

When he suddenly focuses on the vase on your night stand next to your bed and a very small, barely visible smile appears on his lips.

“They're pretty.”

Her voice breaks the silence with an unexpected softness, too casual, trying to lighten the mood.

You follow the direction of his gaze and see the hydrangeas in the glass vase, still fresh and full of life, as if time had not touched them since the day he gave them to you.

“Thank you… by the way.”

He walks over to them, running his fingertips over the delicate petals carefully, while you stand at the foot of your bed, trying not to stare at him too much, then take a seat on the soft mattress.

Seconds pass, neither of you say anything and you don't understand what you are doing.

Then, he finally turns to you, with his soft gaze and speaks.

“You said they're your favorite, that night when we went to dinner, the hydrangeas.”

You don't say anything, you just watch him and nod slightly, you too remembering those days. But you definitely weren't prepared for what he says next.

“Your favorite color is purple. Your favorite animal is cats and wolves. Your favorite series is Stranger Things and your favorite movie is Maze Runner.”

Your breath catches for a moment and you watch him intently.

“You love the beach, watching sunsets, exploring hidden waterfalls, reading, and you love all the history of royal families, like the Tudors and the Romanovs. You want to go to Wales, to explore abandoned castles, London, Romania, Egypt and Versailles, to see Marie Antoinette's bedroom,“ he then says, stealing your breath, ‘”And you like The Weeknd, but also classical music and Taylor Swift,” he finishes.

You fall completely silent, your mind unable to process the amount of things he just said with such precision. You stare at him in surprise, feeling a lump in your throat that you can't explain.

It's not that these are secret facts about you, but you don't mention them that often either. Only once or twice. But you definitely never expected him to remember them.

You always thought Aemond wasn't someone who paid too much attention to details, at least not when it came to you. But here he is, reciting them as if they were etched into his skin. As if he knew you better than you thought he did.

He notices your expression and lets out a sigh, averting his gaze for a second before meeting you again with his clear eyes.

“I know you like the back of my hand Y/N,” he says in a soft, firm tone, ”The problem was… I didn't show that I was paying attention.”

Your heart beats painfully against your chest.

You don't know what to say, because this is a side of Aemond you've never seen before. Not the proud, cold guy who always seems unattainable, but someone genuine, someone who has actually been watching you all this time, even when you thought he hadn't.

But you can't be fooled by emotions.

Pursing your lips, you avert your gaze to your hands, feeling a pang of uncertainty prickle in your chest. You shake your head slightly, trying to rearrange your thoughts before speaking.

“I-I… I didn't let you into my room so you'd think I'd still be her replacement.”

Aemond lets out a small, low chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.

You watch him instantly, completely serious, not understanding his reaction. But when he looks back at you, his expression has become more intense, more sincere.

“Haven't you understood?” he murmurs, his voice full of something you can't quite identify.

He takes a step toward you, then another, another, and another, narrowing the distance between you until he stands in front of you.

“I'm here with you because I want you,” he tells you firmly and clearly, ”I don't want her. I want you.”

The words fall on you like an unexpected blow, leaving you for a moment without air. Because even if you wanted to deny it, even if you tried to convince yourself that this was all a mistake, you can't ignore the way your heart races with his confession.

And worst of all, you know he's not lying.

He lets out a heavy exhale, running a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture.

“I was an idiot,” he says, his voice low, almost hoarse, ”I wasted too much time chasing after a girl who was never worth it. And in the process, I hurt you…because she was hurting me.”

Something in his expression hardens, as if he hates to admit it. But then his gaze softens as he settles on you again.

“And I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”

Your chest tightens with a million emotions at once. Because you didn't expect this. You didn't expect him to say it so clearly, so bluntly, without the arrogance that has always characterized him.

But the fear is still there.

You fold your arms, trying to keep your stance firm, trying to remember all the reasons why you shouldn't give in so easily.

“I don't know if I can do this,” you mutter, in a low, vulnerable tone.

“And I don't blame you,” he says right away, ”But you want to know the truth? I got feelings,” he confesses, ”But I was letting myself be held back by her.”

Your throat closes up. You don't know what's worse, knowing that he had feelings for you or knowing that he put them aside for someone else who never reciprocated and simply wanted his attention.

And he noticing the whirlwind of emotions on your face, he moves a little closer towards you.

“And I fucked it all up,” he says almost in a lament, “But I want to fix it.”

Your breathing quickens.

You can't trust him. Not after all.

And yet…

“Y/N,” his voice calls back to you, low, raw, honest, ”I know the last thing you want is to trust me. And I don't expect things between us to go back to the way they were. I want to make things right now, with the formalities, titles and all. If you need time, I'll give it to you, no matter how much, I'll… I'll wait for you,” he promises, ”But only if you want me to.”

Silence.

Your eyes dive into his, searching for some trace of a lie, some sign that this is all just another empty promise. But all you find is sincerity. A raw, vulnerable sincerity you've never seen in him before.

This is everything you've wanted to hear from him. Everything.

To be reciprocated.

And now that he's finally telling you, you can't stop the tears from starting to form in your eyes.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. It's all too much. Too intense, too sudden. And yet, when you open your eyes and look at him again, something inside you begins to resurface.

Hope.

But not the hope of “someday,” no, but the hope that this, here and now, works. Because it's finally happening.

“Just you and me.”

You say it quietly, as if you're still testing how it feels to say it out loud, how it feels to let it out after holding it in for so long.

And Aemond nods without hesitation.

“Just you and me,” he repeats, ”Only you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe in him.

And when he holds out his hand to you, you take it.

His fingers intertwine with yours, warm, firm, as if he's reassuring you that this time he's not going to let go. As if he wants to show you that there is no one else, that there should never have been anyone else.

Because now, there is only you.

thank you for reading!

@almostpurplelady @fauxraven @targaryendestiel @bigsimpforremuslupin

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond one shot #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #modern aemond

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ninesugars · 1 month ago

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finally deciding to play zzz but starting during this patch specifically has been so funny for me they’re like. This is hugo. meet hugo. we have an entire fully voice acted hour-long segment of the main quest of Just him going through the torture labyrinth. we tied him to a chair for like 3 days while he had the worst trip of All Time and forced him to go through literally all of the negative aspects of his personality and trauma until he decided to maybe chill on the unfathomable self hatred. he’s like 6’1” owns an art gallery and runs a phantom thief syndicate. he steals from the rich and gives to the poor. he’s gay as fuck and it’s with the beautiful giant wolf man in the most divorced way possible. he has canon in-universe yaoi fanfic written about him. he’s the older brother figure slash boss to the parasocial ex-occultist fangirl character whom he gave personal lessons in aura farming. he wears a stupid fedora. he likes shitty niche vampire films and projects onto them. he hates his mother. he hates his father. he’s not even a vampire but he IS hypoglycemic. he has heterochromia. he has a bird motif but can’t stick to just one specific kind of bird. his weapon of choice is a scythe. he’s a theater kid. he’s even blonde. And they expect me to be Normal

#character formulated in a lab to make me Insane #all of this. after i finally deleted genshin #i have been putting off getting into this game since it came out. they got me. my stupid baka life #i’m back in the fucking building again #they got me. Ok. Hook line and sinker. I won’t even lie to you #all of this and his eng va is perfect .#shuake as one guy but he doesn’t get away with being a loser because he’s a grown man and not a teenager #zzz #zzzero #hugo vlad #ramblings #zzz spoilers #zenless zone zero

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aphelion-alifer · 9 months ago

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relieving wing related dysphoria

something that I see many winged folks experience, including myself, is wing related dysphoria. more specifically, dysphoria relating to not being able to fly or not having wings physically. all my life this is a struggle I've dealt with, and I understand how painful it is. there are ways to relieve it though! here's some things that I've come up with and suggest to those who are struggling:

create mood boards, wallpapers, stim boards, and pinterest boards relating to the sky, your wings, theriotype, shifted form, etc

dive into media that has winged people/creatures (maximum ride, the maleficent movies, the croaking, just to name a few)

play games that let you fly, either with or without wings. bonus points if you're able to do it in VR (roblox, minecraft, feralheart, aer memories of old, superflight, fugl, etc)

practice lucid dreaming or astral projection

blankets!! especially weighted blankets, this can mimic the feeling of having wings

create or buy cosplay wings that look like your own (either typical cosplay wings worn with a harness/straps, or a backpack with wings, or a shawl in the shape of wings)

wear the colors of your wings, theriotype or shifted form

surround yourself with wing related themes or themes related to your theriotype or shifted form (buttons, pins, stickers, doodles, plushies, etc)

wear wing related accessories (rings, necklaces, hair pins, wings you can put on the laces of your shoes, etc)

if you're able to, get wings tattooed on your back or get a tattoo related to your theriotype or shifted form

if you're able to, participate in sky/air related sports or activities (skydiving, wingsuit flying, paragliding, hang gliding, etc)

draw/doodle your wings, theriotype or shifted form!!

meditate and visualize your wings. feel their weight, see their colors and textures, etc.

connect and talk to others who have wings if you need support and are looking for folks who have had similar experiences

carry around a backpack and make sure to give it some weight! having a backpack of a similar weight to my phantom wings tends to make my phantom wings go away, if you're looking to stop your phantom wings from existing for a bit for any reason

collect feathers that look like yours if you have feathered wings

connect with nature! this helps ground me and feel more connected to my natural self. I suggest going outside on a windy day or climbing trees.

stick your head/arms out of the car when you're going somewhere! this is one of my favorite things to do and it mimics what I imagine flying to feel like (pro tip, don't do this if you're driving)

make your room feel like the environment you belong in (using nature or wind ambient sounds, fans to get air flowing, that sort of thing)

watch flying POV videos

I'm sure there are more things that I could add, but I think that this is all my brain can think of at the moment. feel free to add onto the list if there's anything else that any of you want to add if I missed anything!

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 2 months ago

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Dismantle

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 11033

Warnings: Canon typical violence. Tad bit of angst. Mentions of previous SA (Blink and you'll miss it), I think that's all in this one.

Author’s Note: Hello long wait in between parts. I managed to keep this all as one long part. I figured why force you guys to have it in two parts when you can consume it in one. We're reaching the end of this series. I only have one more part planned out for this series. I hope that you guys enjoy it! The divider is by the lovely @firefly-graphics ♥

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

<< Interrogations || Phantom Masterlist || Phantom Playlist || Set Me Free >>

“What was he planning on building?” It was Ross's voice that filled the air.

“He took the data information his brother had collected along with blood samples from test subjects.” She began as she looked towards Ross. “He also found a way to miniaturize Project Insight. Put the two together and-”

“You get a weapon that can turn specific people into enhanced weapons.” Steve said, shaking his head.

“There’s no way he could possibly do that.” Ross shook his head. “That kind of technology-”

“Can be created.” She added even though she was sure that he wasn’t going to say that. “DNA testing was a whole craze. It wasn’t hard for Hydra to obtain and analyze the data. The parts that were being collected would ensure it was possible. I’ve seen the plans. It was only a matter of time before it came together and went into the testing phase of things.”

“So what's the plan?” Sam asked.

“Element of surprise is out of the question.” She said as her eyes moved from one person to another. “The moment Ross was informed I was taken in, he knew too. There's no way to play it like my mission has been successful.”

“Then we go head on.” Steve said. “They’ll see us coming. But we’ll be ready for it.”

“We don’t even know where they’ll be.” Wanda noted. It caused everyone to look towards Y/N.

She sighed softly and nodded her head. “There's a few places they’ll be heading now that they know I’m out of the equation. I’ll even be able to give detailed routes into those facilities without setting off any of their alarms.”

“That’s gonna come in handy.” Natasha said.

It didn't take them long to go over possible locations and how the team would be able to use the information she was providing to their advantage. They had several plans in place for every scenario that could possibly happen between now and them getting to Strucker.

Steve gave commands for each group from the team. Each one with a different plan of attack. And when Steve’s attention turned to her, she already could feel the irritation growing within her.

“You and Clint will stay here.” He began and her head already started shaking. “If anything, be our eyes and ears with FRIDAY.”

“I'm coming with one of you.” She said the moment he finished. She wasn’t going to agree with what was being asked of her.

“No.”

“Are you crazy?”

All three responses came at once, causing her to raise her eyebrow at them as she crossed her arms over her chest. The nos had come from Steve and Bucky. The ‘are you crazy?’ came from Tony. “You're not making me sit this one out.”

“She is crazy.” Tony mumbled as he ran his hand over his face.

“You know I’m good on the field.” She said with a shake of her head. “I get that there’s the possibility of not trusting me right now, but I want to see this through, just as much as you do.”

“We trust you.” Steve began. “But given the situation, it would be better to have you safe here and not out there. We don’t know what they could do-”

“I can handle myself. I’ve been handling situations like this my whole life.” She argued. She wasn’t going to let this go without a fight.

She knew there was a bigger fight at hand with what the team was getting ready for. But she wasn’t about to be kept out of the fight. She’d go down fighting before she was left behind.

“Buck, help me out here.” Steve looked over at Bucky.

“What he means to say,” Bucky said, gaining her attention. “While we would be happy to have you fighting alongside us, you could be a few short words away from fighting against us. And while we had our moment of fighting each other earlier, I’d like not to be put up against you again.”

“They don't have-'' She stopped herself mid sentence when reality came crashing through her mind.

She would have said they don't have her trigger words. That the only person who had them still, if he hadn’t destroyed it, was standing right in front of her. But she had been reprogrammed. She didn’t know anything about it this time around. She didn’t know if all it was going to take was a specific set of words to have her back under.

She understood their worry. She understood why they wouldn't want her to be there or anywhere on the mission. Hydra knew how to manipulate her and they were going to do just that.

But she couldn't just wait around and do very little. While she could give the team play by play instructions through each facility, it wasn't enough for her. She needed her hands in it in some way.

A defeated sigh passed her lips a moment later and she nodded her head. “Fine.”

She could feel the way Bucky eyed her for a moment. There was something in his eyes that told her that he had been ready for more of a fight. A moment later, he nodded his head in acceptance. But his eyes never left hers.

“Let’s head out.” Steve’s voice filled the air before the room started to clear out.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight.” He said before letting out a sigh.

“Let me go with you. I can stay on the quinjet if that’s what’s needed.” The moment Bucky started shaking his head she changed tactics. “Then stay here with me. Clint can go and handle it.”

“As much as I want to, we both know I can’t. I have to see this through for both of us.” He needed her to understand. He was the one that was free from the Hydra’s hold. She had been taken from them just hours ago. He needed to make sure they wouldn’t have a chance to take her back. “When I get back, we’re going to have a lot to talk about.”

All she could do was nod. And when she didn’t say anything else, Bucky had taken that as his cue to leave. The faster he got going, the faster he could come back to her.

Out of a long forgotten habit, Y/N had found herself exiting the conference room and started making her way towards the common area. Her brain told her there was something in that room that she needed to see. And when she walked in, seeing the floor to ceiling windows, she was reminded why she wanted to go in there.

It gave her the view of the air strip that was on the property. It also gave view to the several cars that were lined up as several agents climbed in. The scramble before a mission. She thought. Something she had seen plenty of times.

But that old familiar habit reminded her that this was where she used to watch Bucky board a quinjet. It was also where she would anxiously wait for him to return from a mission. On more than one occasion, she fell asleep in the chair by the window waiting for him to return.

As she looked out the window now, she could see the way the jets had been turned on as the ramp began closing on a few of the quinjets. Vehicles were already starting to drive off to give the aircrafts the needed space to take off. It wouldn’t be long before the runway was empty.

“We’re not staying are we?” Clint asked as he came to stand beside her. His eyes watched as one of the quinets took off. His face was neutral in comparison to hers. He could see the thought process as clear as day on her face. He knew she was waiting for it to be clear for her to leave.

“You can stay here if you want. But I can't sit around and do nothing.” She noted as she began walking away the moment she was sure everyone on the mission had left.

“If you're going, I'm going with you.” He said with a shrug. “Someone has to keep you from being triggered.”

She rolled her eyes slightly. “Now the question is what are we taking?” The closest location was close enough to get to by car. “Car or Quinjet?”

“I have something better in mind.” A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips before he tilted his head towards the garage. When her eyebrow raised he chuckled. “Grab your gear and meet me in the garage. I'm sure you remember where you kept your gear. ”

It didn’t take long for Y/N to find her old locker and have tactical belts filled with weapons once more. The weight of the belts wrapped around her had brought a strange comfort to her. It was from constantly having them over the last several months. Maybe it was wrong to find comfort in weapons, but the way the last 24 hours had been, she’d take familiarity over anything else.

When she walked out to the garage, she found Clint waiting for her. “What is the better option you were talking about?”

Clint only gave her a grin before he walked over and pulled the sheet off of a black Honda sports bike. He watched as her eyes shifted as she took in the bike. Clint could only assume it was the memory of how much she had loved it.

She walked over and looked over the bike. It had been some time since she had seen it, let alone rode it. She remembered the day she had bought the bike. How excited she had been the few days leading up to getting it. It was the first thing that had ever truly been hers and she spent every free moment she could riding it.

“We found it at one of the safe houses.” He noted as he watched her. “It was around the time Bucky started looking for you and he insisted that it come back with us. Mentioned that if you had seen how much dust was collecting on it, you would have killed someone.”

She shook her head before she looked back over her shoulder at him. “I left it there when I decided to stop using the safe houses. It felt like it belonged to a life that I was no longer a part of.”

“Everyone comes back home eventually.” He said, giving her a smile.

She returned the smile before she found herself a moment later sitting on the bike while pulling her helmet over her head. The motions of bringing the bike to life caused a grin to pull at her lips even though it couldn’t be seen. The memories of it all made her wish that she hadn’t been going for a mission and just for a joy ride.

Lifting the visor on the helmet, she looked over at Clint. “Hop on.” It didn’t take Clint long to climb up behind her and get himself situated. “You better hold on to your arrows, Hawkeye.” She said before the sound of tires screeching along the pavement filled the air before she was taking off.

_____

With the information that Y/N had provided, each set of teams had managed to work their way in undetected. With their stealth, they had been able to take down several Hydra soldiers in the process. Each group hadn’t been met with anything they couldn’t handle.

At a majority of the locations, the teams had been able to clear it completely. That if anything they caught them in the middle of attempting to destroy any evidence. And with a little physical force, FRIDAY soon had access to it all.

For Bucky, Sam, and Steve, it had almost been too easy for them to make the progress they had. The lower level entrance had been left unguarded. While they had kept themselves ready for anything, there was something off. In comparison to the other’s reports, they had an easier time clearing each section of the building.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” It was Sam that voiced the same thought they were all thinking. “It shouldn’t be this easy. Not with the intel we have.”

Even with Redwing discreetly flying ahead, there wasn’t a soul they came in contact with. Thermal scans didn’t even pick up any guards on the levels above or below them. And that in itself should have brought them some sort of relief. But it didn’t.

“Maybe there’s another place she didn’t know about.” Steve added. They had been currently working their way through an area of the building that was used for storage. “Or they left in a rush knowing we were coming.”

“This place hasn’t been trashed yet.” Bucky noted. “They haven’t left. The better question is-”

“Found them.” Sam said as Redwing alerted him to the incoming soldiers. “It seems they’ve finally realized we’re here.”

“How many?” Bucky asked.

“Enough that we won’t break a sweat.” Sam responded with a shrug.

“Let’s hope so.” Steve responded just before the doors from both the left and right busted open.

Much like Sam had mentioned, the three of them had been able to handle the amount of soldiers that filled into the room. While the numbers may have been a tad daunting, with as much training as they had, it almost felt like another day in the office.

By the time the last one had been put down, the three of them had made it to the opposite side of the warehouse and through another corridor. Another part of the building that hadn’t been so much as touched or trashed as they were expecting. If anything, it was like they were preparing to move into this one.

“I don’t like this.” Bucky noted.

“I second that.” Sam said as he opened another door, finding stored equipment.

Some of the equipment had been covered up in sheets while some that were pressed against the wall were uncovered. All of it pieces to what Sam could assume was the new and improved Project Insight.

“This still doesn't make any sense.” Steve shook his head as he entered the room with the equipment, taking note of the pieces he could see.. “If the other locations are scrambling to destroy all of their information, what’s different about this one?”

“Maybe the ones that ambushed the compound were at this location?” Sam offered as he pulled one of the sheets off.”

The moment he did, he heard an audible gasp leave Steve and Bucky. Beneath the sheet had been a memory suppressing machine. And by the looks of it, it was as shiny as new.

“Makes sense.” Bucky shook his head, not being able to take his eyes off the machine in front of him. It made something in his stomach turn at the sight of it in front of him. “If they plan on creating enhanced-”

“They need a way to control them.” Steve shook his head as he looked over at Bucky.

As the three of them continued to look at the suppressing machine, they hadn't noticed the two agents sneaking up on them. And when Bucky had finally noticed it and began aiming at the soldiers in the doorway, a set of gunshots were going off. The bodies fell to the ground causing three sets of eyes to widen slightly before bracing themselves for what could be waiting just past the entry.

“First rule about entry ways,” A familiar voice filled the air before Y/N took a step into the entryway. “Never forget about them. You never know what lurks just beyond them.”

It wasn’t hard to miss the several emotions that played through Bucky before he settled on one. She could easily see the way his eyes shifted from disbelief to anger before he began shaking his head and closing the space between them.

“Barton unconscious somewhere?” He asked her as he came to a stop in front of her, his eyes narrowing at her.

“Like I’d let her even try.” Clint said as he came into the room a moment later. While his hold on the bow string had eased, he hadn’t let it go completely.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bucky asked, never pulling his attention off of her. “The whole reason for you staying behind-”

“I listened.” She cut him off with a shrug. “You said nothing about following behind after you left.”

She knew that was probably one of the worst things she could have said. She was trying to ease some of the growing tension between them. Before Bucky could even begin to voice his irritation with what she had said, she continued.

“It can’t just be you doing this. I need to be here just as much.” She kept her eyes on him. “This is my life they currently have a hold on and I need to be here to see that it’s destroyed. I can’t be the one to sit around and wait and hope that it all works out. I’m here now and it’d be pointless to make me leave. I can handle this and you know it.”

Her attention may have been on him, watching as anger and frustration began to change to worry, but she hadn’t missed the movement out of her right peripheral. The other three were to her left and there was no way it could have been any of the others. It caused her to lift her gun and pull the trigger without looking away from him. A thud followed shortly after.

“I feel like that’s convincing enough.” Sam noted. A chuckle from Clint followed a moment later.

A glare formed on Bucky’s face as he continued to look at her. There were a million things going through his mind at that moment. He wanted to drag her out of there and take her back to the compound. He wanted her as far away from here as possible.

He knew that out of the options of facilities she pointed out that this one was the one to be more on alert about. That fact was proven with what they had just finished dealing with. The chances of Strucker being there were growing by the minute.

But his face had softened a bit as understanding had begun to fill him. While he wanted her safe, he couldn’t force her to leave. And if he was being honest with himself, there was a part of him that knew she would do something like this. It never failed that Y/N would be somewhere she shouldn’t be.

I just got you back. He wanted to tell her. I don’t know what I’d do if-

“Stay close to us.” He said a moment later. “If anything even comes close to going south, you get out of here and don’t look back.”

It was the only way he was going to accept her staying there. He wasn’t going to let her be anywhere out of arm's reach while they were there. And if the moment things got out of their control, he was going to make sure she made it out safely.

“You got it Sarge.” She said with a mock salute before a small smirk pulled at the corner of her lips.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, we’ve managed to clear out a majority of this level. Minus the few of them trickling in.” Steve said, pulling their attention. While any other time he would have left the two to deal with this, now wasn’t the time. “Do you think with this breathing room we could hook up FRIDAY?”

“It wouldn’t be too hard to do.” She said with a slight shrug. “We could technically do it from down here. I just need to get to the servers down the hall.” She pointed her thumb towards a hallway towards her left.

She tried to ignore the raised eyebrows she saw. It was slightly off putting to be there as it was. And for that information to come out so easily, it added to the unspoken list that showed she had been there multiple times over the last six months.

Multiple times that some of them never resurfaced in her memories. Some of them blended with others that made it seem like she had been there less than she actually had been. But one thing was for sure. Out of the options of facilities that the Avengers had split up to, this was the one she knew like the back of her hand.

Her eyes began wandering. While she had been down this hall several times, she’d never seen inside this room. She had taken notice of the equipment by the walls and the sheets that seemed to take over a majority of the room. Just as her eyes were about to land on the machinery behind Sam, Bucky had her spun so that she was facing the exit.

“I promise it’s not worth the look.” Bucky noted from behind her, before gently leading her out of the room and out of the way for the others to exit.

It didn't take them long to make it down towards the Server room. Steve took the lead, keeping his eyes scanning just in case. Bucky and Y/N followed behind, with Sam and Clint at the back. And when they were at the server room door, it had been easy to break the lock allowing them entry.

It was almost as if she was moving on autopilot when she stepped into the room. Her mind had instantly known where to go to access the laptop tucked away. She had it open and ready before Steve or Bucky made it to her side after checking out the rest of the room. Something she hadn’t even thought about doing before walking right over.

Steve handed her a flash drive and she got to work. The four men kept an eye out for anything while her fingers ran across the keyboard. Her fingers hitting the keys had been the only sound coming from the room. All of them were on edge as she attempted to make this fast.

When she first started, she had a smirk pulling at her lips with how familiar the key strokes had been. How easy it was to hack into the system in comparison to the other things she had been up against. It wasn’t until a thought crossed her mind.

Why is this too easy?

The further she got into the system, the more that smirk fell from her lips. Even though she only needed a few more seconds before FRIDAY could take over, there was something in the back of her mind raising red flags. Soon her brows began to furrow as her fingers began moving at a snail's pace.

FRIDAY was uploading. But it had been way too easy. She was sure there would have been several more walls she would have had to break through before she had gotten to this point. It was almost as if there wasn’t anything fighting her to get in. Even she knew that Strucker wouldn’t have allowed the system to be left so unguarded.

A moment later, FRIDAY’s upload was stopped short of completing. A secondary window popped up without her so much as pressing a key. It sent a spike of fear through her. It had been a camera view of the room, pointed directly at the group. Almost as if it was watching them.

“Bucky…” She said, keeping her attention on the screen.

Bucky came and stood beside her the instant she said his name. The change in her voice was enough to set off alarms in his mind. He could see the codes moving on the screen without her touching the keyboard as the video footage continued to play.

“Did you?” He asked, wanting to be sure. He watched as she looked over at him and shook her head. “Come on,” Bucky said, a heartbeat later, taking her hand. “We need to get you out of here.”

The words had barely filled the air before the sound of glass breaking followed. The metallic clink of smoke grenades hitting the ground proved just how much of a turn this had taken in a short time. Smoke filled the air that made it almost impossible to see through it.

“There’s a stairwell just around the corner to the upper level.” She said as her hand tightened around Bucky’s for a moment before letting go and reaching for the knives at her hips. She knew without a clear sight she wouldn’t be able to use her gun. She could easily fight through with the knives she had on hand and make it through the otherside.

“Stay close.” Bucky said as he pulled his own weapons and readied himself. “If you see an opening to-”

“Leave.” She finished for him. “I know. “

She heard him and understood what he was saying. But she wasn’t going to leave him behind while she got out. She wasn’t sure how or when she’d actually do so but she was determined to get him out of there, even if it meant without her.

The sound bullets hitting metal filled the air, followed by the sound of an arrow whizzing by. Each of them engaged with soldiers that found their way into the room. The group made their way towards one of the broken windows and it wasn’t long after that Bucky and Y/N were out in the hall, facing another set of incoming soldiers.

They moved in sync the moment they moved into the hallway. It didn’t matter which way soldiers came at them, they had each other covered. It was a routine that they had developed after years of being on missions together. Something that had only ever felt comfortable between the two of them. It never flowed as smoothly with anyone else.

It didn’t matter the steps they took toward the stairwell she mentioned, they had each other covered. Where one dropped their arm, the other had replaced it. Maneuvers that put them back to back, or chest to chest, the two easily brought down the numbers they faced.

Any time someone got too close, one or the other would take care of them before falling back into the routine only they knew. By the time they reached the opening to the stairwell, they were left facing each other with no more incoming attacks, for however brief that may be.

Once their eyes met each other’s, they dropped their weapon to their sides. In one heartbeat, Bucky nodded his head once. A silent question if she was alright. She gave a nod as her response. And in the next heartbeat, Bucky was pulling her into him, his lips descending on hers.

It was a brief moment of release. It was a mix of the adrenaline from the fight and the longing that they both kept buried within them. It was a way to convey everything they hadn’t been able to in the last two years.

Bucky pulled her closer just as she wrapped her arms around his neck. How easy it would be just to get lost within each other. But both of them knew of the dangers they found themselves in. Neither of them lost to the emotions and physical actions they were feeling.

“Hate to break up the moment, but this definitely isn’t the time for this.” Clint said the moment he found the two.

A huff of a chuckle passed Bucky’s lips as he reluctantly pulled away from her. His eyes met hers and he could see the slight smirk tug at her lips as she shook her head. It was definitely worth it.

“What just happened?” Sam asked with a raised brow as he joined them.

“Nothing.” Bucky said, giving Y/N a wink before nodding his head towards the stairwell entry. “We were waiting for you guys to catch up.”

“We weren’t that far behind.” Clint noted, earning an eye roll from Bucky and a soft laugh from Y/N.

“Floor is cleared for now.” Steve approved the group last. “But the faster we get out of here, the better.”

“Up the stairs we go.” She said to the others before turning and heading up.

When they cleared the stairwell, she led them down the hall towards the left. She couldn’t place it, but everything within her gut was telling her she should have gone for the other hallway instead of the way she knew would lead them out of the building. The obvious choice could cost them seconds, but backtracking for a gut feeling would cost them more.

The main entryway to the facility would be around through the corner. They could regroup outside of it while waiting for the others.

It was as the group rounded the corner that they all skidded to a stop. Blocking their way out were several Hydra soldiers. Each of them with a gun pointed at the group. Strucker stood in the back of them, a smirk pulling at his lips.

When they attempted to turn back around, several more crowded the hall, pushing them towards the middle of the open space. The numbers in comparison looked daunting. They were surrounded and backup wouldn’t be there for a bit longer.

“What are our chances of fighting out of this one?” Sam said low enough for only the five of them to hear.

“It’s not like we haven’t before.” Clint noted.

“We’re running low on everything.” Bucky added.

“We’ll make it enough.” Steve said as they braced themselves.

“Well done, Phantom.” Strucker’s voice held humor within it as he eased his way to the front of the line. He came to a stop just a few steps directly in front of Y/N. “Part of me thought with Maximoff in your head that things wouldn’t go according to plan. But here you are.”

All five of their faces fell as they took in his words. The men looked over at her for an answer. But they all saw the same thing. She was just as confused as they were.

“No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t-” She looked towards Bucky with her mirrored expression. “I wouldn’t.

A light chuckle passed Strucker’s lips, gaining her attention once more. “It’s there in that head of yours. You may not remember our conversation, but the programming in your mind remembers it.” His eyes moved towards Bucky before moving over to the others beside them. “You were told not to return until your mission was completed.”

“The mission failed!” She said as she took a step towards him. She could feel the way the worry morphed into tension beside her. She needed them to know she didn’t betray them. “My mission was to take them down and kill the former Winter Soldier. He still lives. The Avengers still stand and they are tearing apart your facilities as we speak.”

Strucker’s attention came back to her and he began closing the space between them, crowding her space. She tensed up as she felt his lips by her ear. “Not all commands are the mission. Dig a little deeper into that head of yours, Phantom. Your commands come from me, not your handler.”

An unpleasant chill ran through her as she attempted to take a step back. Her hand almost instinctively reached back for Bucky. But Strucker grabbed a hold of her arm, keeping her from doing so. He took several steps back, pulling her with him.

She heard several guns cocking back and she was sure it had something to do with Bucky attempting to take a step towards her. But she wasn’t going to take her eyes off of Strucker, just in case. But it was as her eyes met his, and saw the gleam in his eyes that she learned what her mission had been.

Strucker stood in front of her, the very building where they had been collecting all of the equipment they’d need for his plan. A smirk had pulled at his lips as he took her in, ready for her final mission. His plan was just a few steps away.

Her eyes barely shifted as he closed the space between them. “Several units are setting up for a mission. The target is the Avengers’ compound. Their mission is to cause a distraction enough for you to get in while attempting to take out the Avengers. They will more than likely fail. Your mission will be to kill the former Winter Soldier. I need him out of the way for several reasons. But that won’t be your only mission. Get the others here by any means necessary. Get them to follow you here or however else you can. We’ll need them for the next phase. Your handler believes you only have one mission. Make it believable. Understood?”

“What is your mission?” Strucker asked as a way to make sure she fully understood.

“Kill the former Winter Soldier. Lure the Avengers here.” The words came quickly from her.

“Good. Make sure you don’t return until you are successful in your mission.” Strucker’s head nodded before holding out a file to her. “You have five hours to prep.”

Her heart sank into her stomach the moment the memory played out. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from Strucker, even as guilt and self hatred was growing within her. If she had known that had been buried within her, she never would have allowed them to go.

What made her feel worse was Bucky standing a few feet behind her. Steve chose this location to go to when he split them into teams. This had been the closest location and by some chance, they ended up here. And soon after she followed.

Don't return until your mission is complete.

“And there it is.” A smirk pulled at Strucker’s lips. “Such a perfect Asset. Completes missions even when she’s believed to be free. But as the property of Hydra, there is no freedom. Only obedience.”

From his words she was desperate to prove him wrong. She wanted to prove to herself that she still had some control over her own mind. And without another thought, she was pulling her last loaded gun from her belt with it aimed directly at Strucker’s head.

Two soldiers flanked her with their guns drawn and aimed at her. She could see them from the corners of her vision and she didn’t care. It didn’t matter that they were there. A simple pull of a trigger and she was sure she’d be able to maneuver herself out of the way before the soldiers could even get their finger to move.

She had it planned out. She had it all thought out and ready within a blink of pulling that gun up. They would be able to fight their way out and this would be a successful mission. But as she went to pull the trigger, she found her brain telling her she shouldn’t do it. That she couldn’t do it. And that confidence she had burning within her moments ago was quickly extinguished the moment Strucker started to chuckle.

“You’re not going to pull the trigger, Phantom.” A smirk pulled at Strucker’s lips.

“You don’t know that.” She responded quickly. “Maybe I’m just stalling.”

She tried to keep her voice even. She tried to make it sound like she knew what she was doing. But there was a part of her that had fear growing within her.

“Stalling?” He scoffed and took a step into the gun. The barrel of the gun touched his forehead. “Everyone in this room knows how quick you are when you’ve set your mind to it. I should already be dead on the ground. Yet, you claim you’re stalling. We both know you can’t. So why don’t you follow orders and hand the gun over.”

She fought everything within her to pull the damn trigger. Anything to wipe that smug look off of his face as he watched her. But once again, there was something forcing her not to and she hated that she didn’t know what it was.

Hearing the frustrated cry pass her lips as she handed over the gun had caused an ache to fill Bucky’s chest. He knew there was more to her reprogramming than they had known and there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do was follow orders. His orders.

“That’s my girl.”

Hearing the words come from Strucker had caused something to grow within Bucky. It was a feeling that Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. And as he watched Strucker grab Y/N’s chin, making her look directly at him, Bucky was itching to pull a trigger.

“Tell me, Sergeant Barnes.” Strucker’s eyes never left Y/N’s face as his grip on her chin tightened slightly. “Was she as obedient with you as she is with me? Accepting every command, without a second thought?”

Bucky watched as she fought Strucker’s hold before he leaned in and whispered something into her ear. It caused her to stiffen and her movements to stop altogether. If Bucky thought he wanted him dead just for being a part of a Hydra, he wanted it even more now.

The anger that had been building within him from the moment they walked into the room was growing with each word that left the man’s mouth. But that anger became boiling the moment his eyes flicked to her face.

From where he stood, he could see the way her eyes were welled with tears but there had been a vacant look within them. Bucky couldn’t even begin to think about what memories she could be reliving in the moment just from Strucker’s words. It made him want to personally bash his skull in.

As Bucky was about to take a step forward, Steve grabbed a hold of his arm. “She’s still in there.” Steve whispered. “Watch her hand.”

His eyes flashed towards Y/N’s hands. Her pointer finger made slight tracing motions along the side of her tactical suit. It was the same pattern the two used frequently. She was trying to pull herself out of the torment she was currently in. Bucky needed to get the attention off of her in some way.

“The difference between us Strucker,” Bucky began, attempting to get his attention off of her. “Is that you had to take her will away from her in order for her to accept you. I never needed to.”

He racked his brain for something that would help her. A passage from her book had flashed through his mind. As much as he learned some of her commands hadn’t worked during the ambush, he knew some of the core settings were still within her. There was no getting rid of those. And no matter how much he hated to think about triggering her in any way, he knew this might just work in her favor. He just hoped that it wouldn’t pull her too far in that he couldn’t get her out.

Without missing a beat, Bucky continued. “Proves she’d never come willingly to be used for your simple pleasures.”

The moment the words filled the air, that pulled Y/N in deeper to the memories that she had been currently revisiting. And with that memory came a command that had never been rewritten. One that she just needed to be reminded of.

Rumlow's thumb and finger grabbed her chin roughly and lifted it, forcing her to look up into his eyes. A small tick of a smirk pulled at his lips as he saw the familiarity of nothingness in her eyes. "She does have a pretty face. No wonder her missions are always successful.

"Careful Rumlow." Pierce's voice filled the air. His attention on the paperwork on the desk off to the side. "Unlike the others, this one is allowed to fight back. You won't be able to get your dick wet before she goes back to her handler."

"Shame." There was disappointment lacing his words. "I would have loved a little pleasure before the mission with Rogers." His thumb eased pressure against her chin before running it along her bottom lip.

Her hands twitched at her sides. Almost fighting the need to connect her fist to his face. The echo of her programming and Handler's voice playing in her mind. “An asset such as yourself will never be used for simple pleasures. Anyone who tries to take that pleasure for the sake of anything other than the mission at hand should be slain without question. They’ll jeopardize the mission if they try.”

“Phantom.” Pierce said never taking his eyes off of the paper in his hand. Her eyes shot towards the man even though she still couldn’t turn her head with Rumlow’s hold. “Go easy on him. He doesn’t know any better.”

The moment she saw the slightest nod of his head, her hand was wrapped around Rumlow’s wrist and twisted his arm before flipping him on his back. Shock filled Rumlows face as he tried to counter but was met with a blow to the groin before the same combat boot fit snugly against his neck, keeping him pinned to the ground. She would have killed him if her original handler hadn’t come into the room and stopped her moments later.

When the memory cleared her mind, her eyes focused on Strucker. A smirk pulled at his lips seeing the way they had focused on him. But unlike the vacant expression he had seen moments ago, there was a fire burning within her eyes.

The moment he blinked, Y/N had her hand wrapped around his wrist and twisting quickly. In the same moment, she was pulling her hidden blade and throwing it directly into the eye of the nearest Hydra soldier beside them. And that was when the others began taking action along with her.

Arrows and bullets flew through the air and occasionally in the corner of her eyes, she could see Steve’s shield making its way across the room. She even caught glimpses of Bucky making sure she was clear from anyone else coming at her. But no matter what was going on around her, her focus had solely been on Strucker.

It was obvious Strucker was no stranger to combat. She could see it within his movements. After she had twisted his wrist to break free from his hold, he had been countering her attacks. He had studied her movements long before this. Long before she was ever brought to him. But in comparison to her, he was hardly struggling to keep up.

She didn’t care though. It may have been the commands threaded through her brain that kept her going, but she was fueled by all the pent up anger she had within her. Everything that she was forced to endure by the hands of someone else fanned those flames that burned within her. And nothing was going to stop her until his heart stopped beating.

The voices and sounds around her had meant nothing to her. Her tunnel vision only led to Strucker. When she said she wanted to make sure this ended here, she knew it would begin with Strucker and she wasn’t going to allow him to leave the building alive.

While a part of her wanted to just let loose on him and take out all that anger on him, she knew he was expecting that. She knew that he could use her rage to his advantage and take the upper hand. She refused to allow herself to be stuck within his grasp again. Instead, she was setting up the trap and Strucker just needed to take bait.

While she may have been meeting him strike for strike, her efforts were a lot less than his. His need to have the upper hand stronger than the rationality that she was someone who made plans on the spot. She needed him exhausted. She needed him to be beaten down enough that once he realized that she was toying with him, it’d be too late.

“You’re doing all of this for what?” Strucker asked as he blocked her fist as it came towards him. “Freedom? It’s something you’ll never have. Not with everything locked within your brain.”

“Freedom.” She scoffed as she pushed him back hard enough to give her space. “You’re right. There is none when you’ve been turned into a weapon. But I’ll get as close to it as I can. Starting with killing you.”

And when the two met once more, Y/N had blades in her hand. Ones that had been tucked into the sleeves of her tactical suit. Ones that Strucker hadn’t seen coming. And while he tried to block, she was quicker.

Each maneuver he attempted to evade her blades, ended up with him getting nicked in all the places she was strategically aiming for. And when she had Strucker exactly where she wanted him, the blade pierced his chest. It had been a direct hit into his heart just as she had always been trained for. One hit and she could see life begin to drain from his eyes.

“Freedom may never be in the cards for me. But I’ll fight like hell to make sure no one goes through what I did.” There was a satisfaction that filled her as she watched his last breath leave his lips.

She had killed plenty with this close proximity. But there was something about watching Strucker die at her hands that made this all the more personal. She wrapped her hand around the handle of the blade and something within her snapped.

She had pulled the blade out of his chest before quickly forcing it back in. It still landed in a way she knew had hit his heart once more. But it wasn’t enough for her. She repeated the action again and again. With each time the blade was forced into his chest, it still hadn’t felt like enough.

Bucky called out to her, but her mind refused to register it. Her mind was a mess of emotions and all it could focus on was continuing to stab the body in front of her. She had lost count of how many times she had repeated the motion. Lost count of the amount of times she either hit the same initial wound, or made new ones into his chest. It wasn’t long after that she felt vibranium wrap around her and pull her away.

“He’s gone.” Bucky said calmly, trying to reassure her. “It’s over.”

He felt her still for a brief moment before her elbow met his stomach, causing him to release her. His eyes widened as she took several steps away from him. A heart beat later, Bucky was blocking the blade that came towards him. While he should have been worried, he saw the look in her eyes. The rage he saw within them hadn’t left yet.

Bucky easily maneuvered the blade out of her hand and tossed it off to the side. If she needed to work out the rage, he’d let her do it. While he didn’t want to fight her again, he knew she needed an outlet. Killing Strucker barely made a dent in what she must have been feeling. And when she came at him with her fists, he was ready for it.

Her moves were sloppy. Unlike earlier with her planned movements, the rage within her was only seeking to harm in some form or another. There wasn’t a care with how she tried, she just needed to draw blood. It was how Bucky was able to keep her focus on him.

He heard the other’s rushing to their side. Clint and Sam were behind Y/N and Bucky could see Clint take a step towards her. They weren’t sure what was going on with Y/N and they wanted to stop her before anything happened.

“Don’t.” Bucky said as he blocked another of her hits.” She’s okay. She just needs to work it out of her system.”

When Y/N attempted another hit, Bucky had been able to dodge it before getting a hold of her arms. It was to get her to stop her movements. To stop going blindly at this.

“Look at me.” He said as she attempted to get out of his hold. His voice remained calm. “It’s me. There’s no other threat.”

At first, her eyes lifted to his but she hadn’t seen him. Her brain still had wires crossed and she couldn’t focus on him. But she had heard his voice. The break in the sea of rage she felt. And as her fists hit against his chest, the first emotion other than rage hit her.

Her fists continued to hit at his chest, but with each hit they lessened in strength. As they lessened, Bucky could see the way her bottom lip trembled. He knew that the rage that had been consuming her was leaving her body.

“It’s just us.” Bucky promised as his hold on her loosened, before rubbing his hands along her arm. He watched as tears welled up and small sob passed her lips. “If you still need to let it out, do it. But know you’re still safe with me. With us.” He watched as her eyes flicked over to others before they moved back to him, finally taking him in. “I promise it’s over.”

She began shaking her head quickly, taking several steps back from him. Her eyes stayed on his. “It’s never going to be over.”

Bucky hadn’t missed the way her eyes were now dimmed in comparison to the fire he saw within them when she first joined them earlier. The determination for this to be over and done with had fueled those flames. Now that she was currently covered in Strucker’s blood, he could see that fire was being extinguished.

“We’ll do our best to make sure it’s over.” Bucky said, taking a step closer to her, but she took a step back as he did. His face fell before making sure his feet were planted on the ground.

Y/N was processing everything and needed some resemblance of space. That was her way of asking for it. There were several things going through her mind and the simple statement of this whole thing being over didn’t sit well with her. There were too many things that were left open.

They had all once believed that it was over. That there would be nothing left. They believed Hydra was gone and they had been clipping every weed they believed was growing. They believed none of the smaller cells had grown larger after clipping them. Yet here they were and she was tangled within those growing weeds.

“They keep coming back.” Her voice broke towards the end. They had all heard it and she hadn’t missed their reactions to her words.

For every version of her they saw and faced, this was something she was one hundred percent certain they’d never seen this side of her. The broken and afraid version of herself. The emotions she hardly felt and couldn’t even remember the last time she had felt as she did now.

“He was right.” Her eyes moved between the men that stood in front of her. “It will never be over as long as I can be used as a weapon.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m better off locked-”

“No.” Bucky said, shaking his head. He risked taking another step closer towards her. She hadn’t moved. “We can make sure that would never happen again.“ He didn’t want her thinking she needed to be locked away. He didn’t want her to feel as if she couldn’t have the freedom that she was seeking.

“You shouldn’t make those kinds of promises.” She wiped at the tears falling down her cheeks.

Promises to keep her safe weren’t something she needed or wanted to hear. If anything, it had been a low blow for her to even begin to say what she had been thinking. But it seemed Bucky caught on to the meaning pretty quickly without even needing to say more. She could see within his facial features.

He shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to break this one.” He took another step towards her and once again she took another one back. “I will do everything I can to make sure you will never be used that way again.”

As he took a final step towards her, that dimming fire he’d been watching within her eyes had been snuffed out. There was no light within them. It wasn’t replaced by coldness or anger. Nor had fear grown with his words. All he could see within them was emptiness. He watched as she barely gave a nod of her head before she turned and walked away from them.

_____

Several hours later, Y/N kept her arms wrapped around herself as Bucky led her towards his room. There was a time where she had the pathway memorized. That if she ever needed to find his room with her eyes closed, she could find it easily. But now? It felt like a lifetime ago that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to find it now.

After each of the teams returned back to the compound, she had felt suffocated by the amount of people that were wanting to talk with her. The debrief had almost felt like an interrogation and she hated every moment of it. Her brief relief of it all was when she got to clean herself up away from everyone.

What made it worse was the looks Clint and Steve kept giving her at any point. The looks that told her they were waiting for the right opportunity to keep asking her if she was okay. As if they were waiting for the moment that she would break completely. Waiting to help pick up the pieces of the mess that was bound to happen.

If it hadn’t been for Bucky’s soft ‘Will you come with me?’, she was sure she would have snapped. She was sure she would have taken it out on one of them and wouldn’t have batted an eye when she left their ass on the ground as she walked away.

It was safe to say that part of her was on edge. Even as she stepped into Bucky’s room and he closed the door behind them, she didn’t feel at ease. Her eyes scanned the room and there was a part of her that hated how she was currently feeling while standing there.

Nothing had changed since she left. Yet everything almost felt unfamiliar to her. These walls had once become a safe haven to her and now, she wasn’t sure. Her fingers had itched to reach out and touch things. Things that her memories were telling her that was okay to do. But did she now have a right to?

Bucky watched her as he leaned against the back of the door. He watched as her eyes moved from one place to another, taking everything in. He noticed the way she held herself as she did. She wasn’t relaxed in the slightest. It reminded him of the first time she had stepped into his room.

The difference between then and now was that she was carrying herself differently. The attitude she had the first time she had come into his room almost made him want to toss her out and have FRIDAY make it so she couldn’t even step by the door without it locking loudly. Now, she was a shell of herself that didn’t trust anything or anyone.

He sighed softly and it caused her to look towards him. “You’re safe here, you know.”

“Am I?” Her words sounded lifeless. “I-” She stopped herself and bit on the inside of her lips.

Pushing away from the door, Bucky moved towards the bed and sat down at the edge of it. “You used to feel safe here. Once we actually became friends, you used to find your way in here after missions. You’d sit right here,” He motioned to the space next to him. “And we’d talk about whatever it was we wanted to.”

She nodded her head but none of the tension left her body. “I know. I just don’t understand why you’d want me here now.”

“For one you were about to knock Steve on his ass.” A small smile pulled at his lips and he watched her relax a little bit. “I figured you’d want a moment without the whole team practically invading your space.”

That allowed her to ease her hold on herself. A sigh passed her lips as she began looking around the room once more. “I’m not used to it anymore. I forgot what it’s like for everyone to care.”

“They’ve been looking for you for over two years.” He noted with a nod of his head. “I don’t expect them to ease up for a while.”

They. For some reason that single word made her heart ache. It wasn’t ‘we’. Part of her knew that Bucky probably hadn’t been reaching out for her to come back. She knew that. She saw the messages in the safe houses from everyone but him. But he had started looking for her at some point. Even Clint had mentioned that with her bike. Bucky brought it back for her. He knew there was a chance she was coming back.

There was no question that things were different. Her truth was out and Bucky knew she was a part of Hydra. He had been there for her when she woke up in one of the spare rooms and didn’t leave her until they got to the interrogation room. It was easy to fall into place with him during the mission. They had kissed and the familiarity and hunger within it felt like it was a start to mending things.

So why did her body act as if it was bracing for a goodbye?

“I can practically see the wheels turning in your mind.” He said after a moment of watching her. When she didn’t say anything in response, he began to worry. “Please, say something. Anything...”

He knew she wasn’t pulled into some memory. She was moving around, in a small radius at that, and looking around at things. But she was lost in her thoughts and he could see that her eyes hadn’t drifted off to somewhere else. They may still hold the emptiness he saw earlier, but she was still there with him.

He watched as she looked over at him. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she closed it again. She ran a hand along her face and Bucky could see she was having trouble with whatever she was trying to say.

Standing, Bucky closed the distance between them and placed his hands gently on her arms, trying to bring her some comfort. “You can say anything you need to. First thing that comes to mind.”

“Do you even want me here?” She asked after a few seconds. His shocked expression told her he hadn’t been expecting her to say.

“I am so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t.” He said as he brought his right hand up to her cheek. “Before the last twenty four hours, the last few things I said to you were out of anger and hurt. My apology should have been the first thing I said once we got you back.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize for a reaction that anyone else would have given.”

“But I never should have made you leave.” He sighed softly. “Yes, I needed time. I needed space to process it all. I couldn’t bring myself to just easily forgive you. The others didn’t believe it. From the moment I told them, they pieced together a whole list why you weren’t a danger to us and hadn’t been for a while.” He shook his head. “But I was stubborn and I didn’t see it the same way they did.”

Her eyes met his. “Can I ask when it changed for you?”

There was a small tug at the corner of his lips. “After a stakeout with Sam.”

His words caused a small smile to pull at her lips at his words. “Not the same?”

“No, not at all.” He brushed his knuckles along her cheek and she leaned into it. “That was when I realized I was missing you. By the next mission, I knew I wanted to start helping to look for you. But by then, you hadn’t been at a safehouse for over six months. I even had a horribly rehearsed apology for when I did find you.” Her eyebrow raised but he continued. “I would have told you how sorry I was for treating you the way I did. That I should have taken your offer of space instead of forcing you to leave, on your birthday of all days. That I am sorry for digging into your past instead of just coming to you and asking you. I’m sure I still would have been angry, but I wouldn’t have made the huge mistake of letting you go. And because of that mistake you found yourself in a situation you couldn’t escape from.”

“Bucky,” She placed her hand on top of his. “What happened out there was bound to happen. If not out there, it would have been while here or on a mission. I am a weapon who doesn't have their free will. I am a piece of property that-”

“You aren't.” He cut her off. “Not any more. You belong to yourself. No one else is going to take that away from you.” His eyes met hers and he could see the uncertainty within them. “I will do everything I can to make sure you never have to worry about that again. The others will help, you know that right?”

The words settled over her for a few moments before she nodded her head. Yes she knew they would do everything they could to help keep her from being used as she had. But the same thoughts played through her mind. There would always be others who would try.

Others that would try to continue the work of Hydra in some form or another. And if she was being honest with herself, there was the possibility they would come for her. How many times would the team be willing to keep her from being captured. How many times until they’d give up entirely and not want her there.

“There is another way.” Bucky said, pulling her from her thoughts.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“You’re worried about several factors.” He noted. “I’ve been where you’ve been. You’re already thinking about how much danger you’ll put the rest of us in. Or how many times it will take until we decide it’s too much.” He watched as her shoulders fell slightly. “But there is another way we can do this to make sure you feel as free as you need to feel.”

“How?” She asked curiously. “It's not like-” She stopped herself as she realized what he meant. “Would they even want to help me?”

“I’m sure they would.” It was with those words Bucky noticed the briefest spark return in her eyes. It was something she could hold onto. A promise that she could be rid of the side of her that could easily be controlled. “I’ll get in contact with T’Challa and see what we can do.”

“Thank you.” She said with a small nod. She wasn’t even sure what else she could say besides that. As much as she wanted to begin to hope that this would really be the end of it all, she knew there was a possibility that they could be turned down. And getting her hopes up to be let down was the last thing she wanted to do.

“It's the least I can do.” He said, giving her a small smile.

She sighed softly. There was one more thing weighing on her mind. “Where does this leave us? We were in a moment earlier and I’m not expecting things to go back to the way they were.”

He nodded his head. She had a point. As easy and comfortable as it has been since she was back to just wanting to be near her like this, he knew it was going to be different in more ways than one.

“One day at a time.” He promised. “If we find that this isn’t what we want anymore, then we’ll be okay. But if this is something we want to try, it will be like a fresh start. Everything is out on the table. We’ll make it work.” A small chuckle passed his lips as a thought crossed his mind. He took a step back and held out his right hand towards her. “I’m James.”

She laughed as she began to bring her hand up to place in his. But she stopped just before her hand met his. Reality crashing within her mind. Her eyes met his as she placed her hand in his. “I don’t know who I am. I’ve gone by so many names that I don’t know which is the right one to give.”

The amusement that had been on his face had been replaced by a small reassuring smile. “I’ll help you figure that out. Whoever or whatever you want to be, I’ll be there with you while you learn who you are.”

While his words had been comforting that this was her chance of starting over, there was something deep within her that told her it wasn’t going to be that easy. How could she choose what to become when she only knew death and destruction for a majority of her life?

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 months ago

Text

The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 8

Source for pic

Imperfect 8

Word Count: 4802

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: I'm so eager to share this chapter with all of you that I may be making a mistake by uploading it early! I only have half of chapter 9 written, and I was hoping to write a little bit more before posting this. But, hey, I'll do it! *singing* Besides, which you see, I have confidence in me!! Anyway, please enjoy the emotional whiplash you're about to experience with this chapter. Love you all! Small Warning: suggestive content, I don't think it warrants a specific NSFW, though.

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

You get a text from your dad saying he’ll be out for the day helping Makino’s niece assemble furniture at her new home in town, and that he might not return until dinnertime. He also asks if you’re alright and lets you know that morning chores are already taken care of.

Looking at the clothes you’re currently wearing - Kid’s - it’s actually a blessing he’s not home at the moment, or you’d have some explaining to do.

The rest of the day goes by in the blink of an eye, and around five o’clock you stop by Sanji’s café to buy some donuts and coffee, not wanting to show up at the garage empty-handed. You can’t contain the tingle of anticipation or stop the silly smile from curving your lips when your car comes to a full stop in front of Kid’s shop.

“Heeey, I brought sustenance!” you shout as you step into the garage. Your brow rises, and you set your stuff down on the nearest workbench before heading further inside. It’s all so quiet. No music, no curses, no tools rumbling in the background.

And then you see him.

Kid is hunched over another workbench. His prosthetic lies discarded in front of him, and he’s gripping the edge of the counter as if it’s all that’s keeping him from falling. Sweat dampens the collar of his shirt. His hair is soaked, and fat droplets of perspiration drip down his scrunched brows and heavy grimace. Everything in his posture, including the tautness of his muscles, screams pain and suffering.

And it’s one you know and understand very well: phantom pain.

“Kid,” you start, one hand raised as if you were approaching a wild animal.

“Don’t,” he growls the word, and it hits you like a slap. He doesn’t even turn or open his eyes to acknowledge you. It’s like you can physically see the walls going up and all around him. Again.

“Let me help–”

“Get the fuck out. I don’t need ya.” The poison in his words sucks all the breath out of your lungs. He’s lashing out.

“I can–”

His face snaps towards you, a feral growl shaking his lips as he grits his teeth. “No, you can’t! This ain’t a fucking novel, sweetheart. I ain’t some broken project for ye to fix! Ye can’t fix what’s irreparably broken! Get the fuck out.”

You try to swallow past the giant lump in your throat. His eyes are cold as ice, without a hint or a trace of the warmth he showed you in the morning. This is just another hurdle that you have to overcome.

You want to succumb to the prickling of tears behind your eyes, but you can’t, because weakness won’t get you anywhere with Eustass Kid. He’s trying to scare you away.

He’s not going to fucking do it.

“I’m not trying to fix you!”

“Bullshit!” Kid slams the workbench, and everything rattles with his fury. “Ye think just because we shared some nice moments, I’m suddenly fixed? That I ain’t fucked up? Broken? That we can have a fuckin’ happily ever after with birds singin’ and butterflies dancin’ kinda shit? It don’t work like that!”

“That’s not what I was–”

“Yer not the first pretty face that thinks she can fix me! And ye ain’t gonna be the last.” Kid snorts, and you bite your lower lip to stop it from trembling. “Guess what, sweetheart? Yer about to be just as disappointed as all of ‘em. Ye ain’t special!”

That blow stings like a cut in your chest. You take a trembling step back, averting his cold gaze, and shake your head. “Earlier–”

“Earlier meant nothin’!” His voice doesn’t even waver. “It was just a distraction, and yer a pretty distraction, I give ye that. But it ain’t happenin’ again. I don’t need this - I don’t need ye.”

The silence that follows is crushing.

You finally look back at him, your chest heaving and chin trembling, eyes glazed with unshed tears you’re trying so hard to push back. You’re so angry at him. Rationally, you know he’s pushing you away again, too afraid to be vulnerable, too afraid to reach for help. Irrationally, though, it feels like you’re not enough.

And like you’ll never be able to reach him.

And then you see his eyes tremble, his teeth grit, and his muscles contract in torment. He’s drowning in pain, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it.

Raising your chin and fighting every instinct that tells you to turn around and leave, you walk past him. Then you fight another instinct telling you to throw a wrench at his stupid, stubborn head, grab the first aid kit, and take out the muscle relaxer cream, throwing it on the couch carelessly.

“Sit on that fucking couch, Kid.” Good. At least your voice still sounds steady.

“Didn’t ya listen to–”

“I don’t give a fuck. Sit. Down.” Your eyes harden like steel as you bore them into his.

“I don’t want ye here,” his throat bobs, and you can tell that’s a blatant lie. One he’s willing to lash out for, over and over again, even if it makes you both bleed.

“Tough shit!” you grit your teeth and shove him towards the couch. “I’m not leaving! You’re hurting, and I’m not going to turn my back on that. I’m not running away, Kid. You don’t scare me!” You shove him again, and he stumbles back, probably too stunned or in pain to fight back your advances. “It doesn’t mean I’m not fucking devastated by what you just said. I’m pissed and I’m hurt, but I’m not running away. Now sit the fuck down.”

He reluctantly sits, still unsure about what you’re going to do. When you sit next to him and start rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, he jerks his stump away from you.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me!”

“Kid—” You reach again and he pulls away with more force than before.

“I said don’t! Yer not seein’ this part of me, for fuck’s sake! I ain’t yer charity case.”

God! Why is he so infuriating? Why can’t he just give you a chance? A small opening? Something!

“I never said you were! I just want to help! Let me—”

“Don’t touch me!” He’s not yelling, but it feels pretty damn close. The intensity of his words forms more lumps and clumps in your throat, and your breathing comes out in ragged, hurtful gasps.

At least your tears are still safely tucked away.

You grit your teeth and will some command into your voice. “I will fucking touch you because it will help.”

“It won’t help!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do! It never fuckin’ goes away! It’s here to remind me of how I failed ‘em! Fuck!” Kid drops his elbow to his knee, face buried in his hand. His shoulders contract and twist in agony, his whole body coiled in grief.

Silence spreads its tendrils around you again, sinking its claws into your chest, reminding you that Kid is indeed as broken as he claims to be. And that only makes you care for him more.

“Fine. Maybe it won’t go away, but I know I can make it better. And I’ll stay with you through the worst of it. Even if you continue to be an asshole.”

You don’t wait for a reaction, don’t even allow him to reply. You just roll the rest of the sleeve up and get straight to work. Lathering your hands with the muscle relaxer, you start to massage the stump slowly, yet firmly. Your muscle memory is kicking in and reminding you how you used to do this for your dad, all those years ago.

Kid flinches when your fingers touch the scarred tissue, and he looks away, seemingly too embarrassed for eye contact. But you don’t miss the way he lets out a deep breath after a minute or two. His shoulders sag softly, and his brows relax from the everlasting scrunch he has them in.

You keep working the knots slowly, ignoring the way your feet are already becoming numb because you’re sitting on them. You’re too afraid to break this fragile moment.

Kid drops his head back to rest on the couch, and his breathing evens out. You don’t think he’s sleeping, but at least he’s relaxed enough for a small reprieve. Your fingers tremble for a small moment, your breath catching in your throat.

Before you realize or manage to stop it, tears start spilling down your cheeks. Just when you thought you’d made progress, that you managed to break down those stubborn walls of his, he pulls this stunt.

His words hurt much more than you care to admit. Of course you’re not special. Why would you be? But that’s not even the point, you don’t have to be special, you just want him to let you in. To open himself to the possibility of something else. To let someone care for him, to allow himself to be cherished.

It’s like you take one small step forward and two back. A never-ending, frustrating dance.

It’s only when you feel his calloused hand on your cheek, wiping the trail your tears left behind, that you realize Kid’s eyes are open and he’s staring at you. Trembling, you stop massaging him, waiting for another outburst of hurtful words.

It never comes.

He softens his gaze, working his throat and jaw as if he’s trying to free the unspoken words he has trapped there. His mouth finally parts, like he’s about to say something, but you beat him to it.

You don’t want to hear the wrong words now.

“Take off your shirt.”

His brow furrows, and he removes his hand from your cheek, leaving only cold and emptiness behind.

“I need to work on your back and chest muscles, or the pain won’t go away. Take it off.” You lace your words with indifference and command, and he obeys for once; doesn’t argue or grunt in disapproval, just follows your request.

As he’s busy taking the garment off, you swiftly wipe your wet cheeks on your arms, erasing any evidence of your earlier weakness.

You make him turn slightly to the side as you start working between his shoulder blades and neck. He’s stiff as a board, his muscles tight and tense from too many years of holding everything in his shoulders. No wonder the pain won’t ever go away.

After a long stretch of silence, where the only sound comes from his soft, relieved grunts, Kid speaks in a voice so quiet you have trouble believing it’s his. “How d’ya learn how to do this?”

You pause for a breath, then answer. Your eyes never leave the junction of his neck with his shoulder, applying soothing pressure with the pads of your fingers. “Shanks.” Kid hums, and you continue.

“I was just a child when he lost his arm, around ten, I think. Luffy, our neighbor, had a habit of sneaking out of his grandpa’s house, and he would get into all sorts of trouble. This time it could’ve been fatal. Except my dad was there.”

You sigh. There’s much you don’t remember about your childhood, but you clearly remember the day your father was left bleeding out in the field while the ambulance was on the way. Your tiny heart beating out of your chest, not knowing if he’d make it or not…

“The plough was working in the field, and Luffy got in the way. Dad saw it and jumped in to save him. Lost his arm in the process. He used to have phantom pain all the time back then. Mom used to do this to ease him through it, and it worked.”

Kid hums again, so you know he’s listening.

“When they started to fight like they had nothing better to do with every waking moment of their lives, Dad was too proud to ask for help, and Mom got tired of offering. I could see him trying to suffer through the pain with gritted teeth and venomous words.”

Kid stiffens, and you know he’s relating to that bit a little too much.

“So I took over Mom’s place and learned how to help. It became our own thing.”

You move a bit, leaning closer and pushing his back against the couch, focusing on the planes of his chest now, where the scarring is so visible and the scar tissue is pulled so tight, it’s a wonder he’s not in pain all the time.

You can feel Kid’s gaze burning holes into your face, and you would give anything to know what’s on his mind. If he would just let you.

Your thumbs work slowly, kneading the flesh carefully but with firm strokes. You can already feel how much less tense he is.

His question catches you by surprise. “Don’t ye find it disgustin’?”

You stop and stare at him, but he avoids your gaze like the plague, his lips twitching and frowning into an embarrassed grimace.

“Why would I? It’s part of you. It’s just flesh, muscle, and skin. It’s not disgusting.”

Kid tilts his head slowly, catching your eye for a moment before turning away again. You continue massaging his chest until he speaks again.

“Ye should. I’m a fuckin’ monster.”

Somehow, you realize he’s not just talking about his physical scars.

“Stop,” you state with finality. Reaching for his face, you force him to face you. “You’re not a monster. You’re not this ugly, unlovable creature. You’re Eustass fucking Kid.” That draws a small smirk from his lips, but it barely lasts. “You’re just… wounded.”

“I’m broken…” he rasps out, the shadows in his eyes spreading further, dimming its brightness.

“Yes, you are.” He jerks his face away, but you hold it steady, forcing your gaze into his. “And I want all of those broken pieces. The anger, the sadness, the pain, and all of the things you don’t tell me… Kid, I’ll take it all and share that burden with you. I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

He stares at you, his chest shaking with uncertain breaths, looking torn between wanting to push you away and to hold you against him.

It’s a make-or-break moment, you can feel it.

So when he presses his hand against your cheek in a mimicry of his earlier gesture, you let out a relieved breath.

“I don’t know how to be anythin’ else. I don’t know how to be… good.”

You cover his hand with your own, while you lower the other one until it presses against his heart, feeling it beat erratically, madly.

“Then we’ll learn together. You just have to let me in, Kid. That’s all.”

Kid’s gaze burns. He looks torn, restless, like he’s fighting a war he’s tired of losing. Maybe this time, though, he has too much to lose and he’s finally willing to risk it.

You know you are.

With a tentative breath, Kid’s hand finds the curve of your neck and climbs until his fingers curl in your hair. He leans forward, hesitates, and the world stops. He’s gonna pull away. He’s gonna flee again. I’m gonna lose him—

Then he exhales a trembling breath, pulls you gently and presses his lips against yours. It’s a stark contrast to all the other heated kisses you’ve shared. This one feels fragile and precious, just a whisper of a touch.

It’s everything he can’t seem to say to you.

When he breaks the kiss and pulls you gently to his lap until you’re straddling him, his hand stays on your hip, its slight tremble, reminding you how delicate this moment is. You cup his face, and he closes his eyes, your foreheads touching for a moment while the weight of everything settles between the two of you.

When his eyes meet yours again, it’s like you can see a crack in his walls. It’s slight. It’s small. But it’s there.

“I didn’t mean…” he starts, stumbling over his words, brows scrunched so tight you fear they’ll leave permanent marks. “My words, I… fuckin’ hell.”

“Kid—”

“No. Let me get this out.” Kid sighs heavily, his hand gripping your hip harder and harder, his eyes still avoiding yours. “Ye are special. Ye are!”

A choked sob dares to climb its way up your throat, so you steel your emotions, bite your lower lip to stop its trembling, and caress his cheekbones with your thumbs in a comforting gesture.

“Much more than that, I…” It’s painfully clear how much he’s struggling to share the extent of his feelings. His eyes meet yours, and there’s so much emotion in them that you understand all he wants to tell you, even without words.

He really likes you.

And it’s scary as hell.

“Fuck it,” Kid mumbles, then his mouth claims yours again, and this kiss is a far cry from the tentative one you shared before. It’s all-consuming, it’s raging, it’s fire and desire melting into something hot and unbearable.

Kid’s hand slithers below your top and up your spine, eliciting a shudder and a muffled whimper. You respond by rolling your hips against his hardened length, and my God, this just needs to happen. Your hands greedily map the planes of his pecs, scraping your nails hard across the same spot you had been massaging just moments ago.

Your top comes off, your bra comes next, and so does an unwanted thought: you’ve been here before.

Except this time, you don’t let any doubt cloud your judgment. Yes, you’ve been here before, but never has the intimacy felt so raw and vulnerable. This is it.

Your lips collide again, and as you open your mouth to gasp when Kid rolls his fingers over your nipple, he claims your tongue. Your heart and soul go next, and you don’t even fight it.

You’re his.

You’ll always be his. If he lets you.

“I want ye… fuck! I need ye,” Kid drawls between kisses and licks to your neck.

“Then take me.”

And he’s about to. Kid’s fingers trail the waistband of your pants, hover over the button, and—

“AGAIN?” Killer’s outraged scream reverberates off the wall and bounces in an endless, indignant echo. Kid pushes you flush against his chest to shield your breasts from view. “I can’t believe I have to see this again!”

Killer’s stomping footfalls thud around the garage in an angry tirade, and a bottle of pills hits Kid on the head. He growls, but Killer is on a rampage.

“Here are your fucking pills! The ones you were in too much pain to grab! Forgot to ask for condoms too? Fucking shitwipe, there are locks on—” Killer’s angry gaze lingers on the spot you’re both on as he approaches.

Why is he approaching? Has he gone mad?

“That is a fucking communal couch. I take naps there, goddamn it! I’m gonna have to bleach the whole fucking thing!” An exasperated growl escapes his lips as he stomps past you towards the office. “Maybe I should just bleach my own eyes while I’m at it!”

The office door slams shut, and you and Kid sit in silence for a beat, too stunned to say anything at all.

Then Killer opens the door again, hands pressed together as if in prayer against his bandana-covered mouth. “I’m sincerely fucking happy this—” he gestures towards you, “—is happening. But for fuck’s sake and Jesus’ balls, take it somewhere else! You fucking live upstairs, you moron!”

The door bangs shut again, only to fly open a microsecond later. Killer looks at you and tilts his head. “I ain’t mad at you, love. Just at the fucking asshole who can’t keep it in his pants. Now, if you both could kindly take that elsewhere so I can fix the car Kid towed earlier, I’d appreciate it very much.”

When the door bangs shut again, it nearly comes off its hinges. You can’t help but feel bad for Killer. He really didn’t need to see this. Still, the hilarity of the situation makes you muffle your laughs against Kid’s neck, in an almost perfect replay of what happened once before.

Even Kid’s lip quirks into a small smile. “Fuck’s sake… that FUCKIN’ HYPOCRITE should keep his fuckin’ mouth shut! HE’S MADE OUT A MILLION TIMES on this couch before, so he—”

“NEVER WITHOUT CLOTHES ON!” Killer bangs his hands on the inside of the office door, and you keep giggling. “I SWEAR TO GOD, KID! If I sit my ass on something sticky or disgusting on that couch… I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

“CALM YER TITS, DIPSHIT! Nothin’ happened!”

“I’M GONNA BURN THAT FUCKING COUCH!”

“THEN YE BUY A NEW ONE!”

“YOU’LL JUST DEFILE IT AGAIN!”

Laughter booms from your lips as you can’t hold it in anymore. The moment is long gone, but you can’t even be mad about it. Kid stops yelling at Killer and hands you your bra and shirt. When you’re fully dressed, his hand lingers on your hip, his thumb brushing soft strokes across your skin.

“We can go upstairs… if yer still up for it.”

Hell yeah, you are.

You’re about to reply with a teasing comment, but then you notice the slight sheen of sweat on Kid’s forehead. His neck is tense with pressure, and his stump twitches now and then.

“You’re still in pain, Kid.”

You rise slowly, pick up the bottle of pills Killer brought, take two out, and place them in Kid’s hand, despite his barely-there objections.

“Take the pills. Rest. We’ve got plenty of time.”

At least, you hope you do. It’s a feeling you hate, but unfortunately, one you’ve experienced more times than you’d like to admit when it comes to Kid. That hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, always accompanied by a massive wave of doubt.

Every time you walk away from a charged moment - whether sparked by desire or something far more vulnerable - you leave your heart in Kid’s hands. So far, you’ve come out the other end bruised, battered, but not defeated.

But this time feels different. So maybe walking away is the right step.

Kid reaches for the water bottle you retrieve from the fridge, but instead of taking it, he wraps his hand around your wrist and tugs you gently until you tumble onto his lap with a soft chuckle.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want ye to leave.” Kid’s warm breath tingles your neck as he leans in to whisper those words to you.

It’s all the reassurance you need.

But he still gives you more. Kid presses his lips beneath your earlobe, then along your jaw, and finally at the corner of your mouth, until you sigh, and he drinks it in like oxygen to a dying man.

You’re glad his hand stays steady on your lower back, because without it, you’re sure you’d melt straight into the couch. There’s no strength left in any limb of your body.

The kiss ends abruptly when he pulls back with a groan, muscles tightening. Your gaze softens, and you massage his stump for a few minutes while he takes the pills and downs them with water.

“The pills and lotion will kick in soon. Go to bed and rest, Kid. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

God, you don’t want to leave him.

But you know he needs rest. And the worst is definitely over; he’s no longer at war with himself, no longer trapped in a maze of self-loathing and doubt. He just needs time and sleep to recover.

Which won’t happen if you stay.

After a few more stolen touches, he lets you go, and you drag yourself away from him, somehow feeling lighter than when you walked in. The events took a turn you weren’t expecting, and even though they were painful and pushed both your limits, you can’t help but feel like barriers were overcome and walls were demolished.

Now it’s time to rebuild. One step at a time.

-*-

“Is it safe?” Killer opens the office door and comes out with his bandana tied over his eyes instead of just his mouth.

Kid can’t help a disgruntled, although bemused, sound escape his lips. He’s reclining on the couch, his arm draped over his eyes, muscles taut, and eyes scrunched. The pain has ebbed from fucking unbearable to moderate.

And he has you to thank for it.

You, whom he insulted, pushed, and harmed with venomous words; you who took them with a raised chin and open defiance; you who poured your kindness, your goodness, and your warmth into him - someone so undeserving it should’ve driven you away immediately.

You, whom he definitely cares more for than he should; you, who he cannot relinquish; you, who will be his downfall.

No. Lies.

He’s sure he will be your downfall.

“How are you feeling, man? You were down in the dumps when you called. I could hear the strain in your voice.” Killer sits on the couch next to him, grimaces, and gags loudly before getting up and sitting on a stool instead.

“The couch is clean, dumbass. We were just…”

“Making out like horny teenagers? Yeah, I saw. Oh, was that what happened? You were dying from pain, and she was performing CPR on your dying ass?”

Kid chuckles again. Dumbass Killer, always trying to lighten the mood and alleviate the tension.

“I fuckin’ care for her, Kill.” Kid can’t face him, not yet.

“Well, duh! Haven’t we cleared that already? Because it was pretty damn clear when you returned from the beach date—”

“Not a date!”

“—With lovey-dovey eyes, swooning like a girl—”

“The fuck, man?” Kid finally lifts his arm to stare directly into Killer’s amused expression.

“You more than care for her. And it’s alright to admit it. It’s not like your other arm’s going to fall off because of it.” Killer ducks when Kid throws him a wrench that was wedged between the couch and the arm of the couch. “Missed.”

Kid’s arm returns to act as a shield over his face as he lets out another groan.

“I’m sorry I interrupted you again. In my defense, I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to leave the door unlocked a second time, plus I really thought I was going to find you incapacitated.”

“It’s fine,” Kid slurs. The pills are starting to kick in, finally. He was close to resorting to more booze. “I… we better slow down, anyway. I ain’t aiming to do somethin’ stupid, so I gotta do things right.”

He sighs and shakes his head. It’s so fucking hard to expose what he feels, to just get it out there. Why the fuck is it so fucking hard? With Killer, he can be truthful, he knows that, but still…

“That’s… actually wise,” Killer interjects with surprise. “Maybe my interrupting you was divine intervention.”

The bemusement in his tone is clear, but Kid can’t share the sentiment.

“I stopped believin’ in divine anythin’ a long time ago, Kill. I ain’t about to start now…”

Killer slumps in his stool, his back hitting the workbench where he supports himself with his elbows. His eyes fall to the corner where Kid keeps the army photograph. It’s already tucked behind an oil can, forgotten again, like it never saw the light to begin with.

“They wouldn’t want—”

“I know what they want, Kill. I hear ’em. Every fuckin’ second of every fuckin’ day!” Kid gets up, his head feels light from the pills, and he really should take your advice and rest. But they are always there, he’s not lying about that. And their appearances always hurt the most once he starts enjoying himself, once he starts to believe he can be happy.

“They’re always blamin’ me, they’re always laughin’ at me! I know I fuckin’ failed ’em and I need to suffer for it! FUCK!” Kid kicks the couch and grunts in agony, but he welcomes the pain again. The one in his arm is already numbing, and he doesn’t exactly deserve a reprieve.

Killer rises, too, trying to placate his anger. “Come on, Kid, you know they would never do that. They would’ve forgiven you… They have.”

Kid swallows his anger and his pain alongside the rock-sized lump that suddenly forms in his throat. He doesn’t push it further. Killer wouldn’t understand.

“Aye. Whatever. I’m gonna lie down.”

He’s already stomping up the steps to his apartment, not giving Killer a chance to add anything else to this pity party. Killer wouldn’t understand, but it’s not because he didn’t know them or wasn’t there; it’s because they’re his ghosts to bear, and Kid is the one to blame for their untimely deaths.

Tags: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @elysian-asphodel @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall @moldychefboyardeecan @dazzlingstarlight23 @bearg-bia @babyboofangirl @praline357 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @traffys-heart @cherileecore @violetmatcha @theloserqueen @mapachito @shamblespirate @ibuch7

Liked this story? Like my writing? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi, please!

|Chapter 9|

#eustass kid x reader #eustass captain kid #eustass x reader #eustass kid #reader insert #kid x you #you x kid #reader x kid #kid x reader #the meet cute #one piece #modern day world au

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foulpaperplane · 9 months ago

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Vladco Heiress

dpxdc au with Serious Chaos, background Danny/Sam

Vlad gets an officially trial because of a domino effect caused by him releasing Pariah Dark. The release of the old king was such a scare to the Realms population, with him being extremely powerful and having committed grave atrocities towards the end of his reign, it led to the ancients, observant and the majority of the inhabitants of the Realms deciding that they need to create a functional government to prevent something like this happening again and to keep the Realms safe. However, forming a working government and catching Vlad to get him trialed takes time so Kindered Spirits still happens. Vlad's trial has thousands of angry ghosts watching from the sidelines while the judge announces a long of crimes the council of Ancients found him guilty of and then presents the supporting rock hard evidence. His sentence is being souped for the next 600 years - which a lot of ghosts still think too lenient.

When Danny defeated Pariah Dark he became the rightful ghost king but Clockwork told him that the council of ancients can act as the main governing body in the IR for now and suggested that Danny could take over Vladco (Vlad left to Danny in him will) to gain experience for when he becomes king.

After a few years, Elysium "Ellie" Phantom decides to return to Amity, partially because she already traveled the entire globe and partially because she feels safe being in Amity now that Vlad is gone and she's had time to work through her trauma. Her travels have made her a great negotiator so Danny decides to name her heiress. Officially Danny is CEO but Ellie handles most of the CEO's responsibilities (being the face of the company, has meeting with shareholders, discuss projects with other CEOs/representative of other companies) while Danny acts more like a COO (oversees different operations, facilitates communication between departments, coordinates product manufacturing and quality control).

Damian starts investigating Dalvco and Ellie specifically after she approaches him at a gala hosted by the Wayne family in Gotham. Dalvoco was probably on the bats radar as a sketchy company and they suspected something shady was going on - either because of Vlad's business strategy in general or due to ties to Lex Luthor - but other things kept taking priority considering the craziness of ghotam, how often villains try to destroy/take over the world and the lack of hard evidence of Vlad's wrong doing - they just felt something was off. Plus, Danny is a recluse, staying in Amity and avoiding the media, so when they saw Ellie the batfam is kinda hit in the face that yeah this company does still exist and hey look it looks even more shady now (Vlad just disappeared out of nowhere and a kid who he allegedly had an VERY antagonistic relationship with inherited his company).

#this entire idea spawned because I wanted serious chaos ballroom dancing #put my girl is a huge #sparkling ballgown #there is also some background Danny/sam with sam coming to an compromise with her parents that she will attend events and stuff #BUT she can fund/create a bunch of enviromental initiatives #dc x dp #danny phantom #dani phantom #danielle phantom #ellie phantom #serious chaos #Vladco heiress

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daflangstlairde-art · 9 months ago

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lightning in our fingertips today

Work 1 of DFL's Whumptober 2024

Summary:

Donnie and Leo get hit with a wayward body swap spell. You could say it gives Donnie a new perspective on the matters of his dear twin. When was Leo going to tell them that his Ninpō hurts him?

—

Chapter 1

It was an autistic nightmare, sure. While yes, Donnie felt like a god in physical form on good days, on bad days, he barely dealt with his own body. Especially after the Invasion. He shuddered.

And now–

“Duudeee, you seriously have to take this thing off more!” his own voice teased in Leo’s cadence, and the softshell turtle body let out an exaggerated sigh as he put down Donnie’s battle shell.

Donnie stared at him, as he moved over to take his battle shell. Dang it, it shouldn’t just be put down in the living room, he has a specific place for it.

“Man, this is still totally boggling Raph’s mind,” Raph commented. He hadn’t stopped looking between them and addressing them incorrectly the whole way back from the mission to their Lair.

“Eh, I’m sure it’s got an easy fix or something,” Leo shrugged with Donnie’s shoulders, unconcerned.

Donnie stared at him, holding the battle shell close. Fingers flexing with a phantom memory.

“Oooohh, maybe I can magic you up!” Mikey wriggled his fingers in their general direction.

“No way Mikes, let’s leave this up to Draxum, huh?” Leo countered.

“Yeah Mikey, your hands are still recovering,” Raph reminded, and Mikey let out a dejected-slash-annoyed grunt.

Oh, perfect opportunity, Donnie cleared his throat.

“Right, Mikey’s hands,” he started smoothly, and eugh it was weird to hear Leo’s voice from his own mouth– “speaking of, uh, Leo, can we–”

“Oh, truuee!” Leo grins with Donnie’s face, and starts doing carpal tunnel stretches in the middle of their living room. “Now I can finally prevent you from ruining your own!”

Donnie huffed at yet another change of topic. Was Leo seriously unaware? Or was he doing this on purpose?

Donnie tried to bring this up several times ever since the Hidden City mission that caused this whole Freaky Friday situation (on a Tuesday, no less).

Some overly-confident-but-otherwise-clearly-inexperienced wizard with a staff violently going wild. It wasn't even the mage herself that was the culprit; the staff seemed to be firing off on its own. Not really important. They just grabbed the staff from her.

But not before Leo jumped to block a wayward spell, causing him and Donnie to get the ol’ switcheroo in the middle of the whole thing. And sure, at first, it was jarring! Then, at second, it was kind of fun, actually. Leo laughed and rolled with it, and amidst the action and all, it gave Donnie the thrill to also roll with it. They are twins after all, much as he denies it for The Drama.

And then... at third...

Donnie stared at the sight of Leo, in his body, retreating to med bay to inspect for injuries.

When they got switched, Donnie had been in the middle of a swing with his bō, a Ninpō construct of a hammer at the end.

When they got switched, Leo continued the arc of the swing, smoothly. This gave Donnie, ever the curious scientist ready to experiment within new circumstances, an idea.

And he swung Leo’s sword.

And that is when he felt it.

Mikey’s hands, hah. Ironic. Donnie flexed his fingers again, shuffling the battle shell to one arm. He looked at his free hand—Leo’s hand. Like there would be any indicatory, enlightening wounds, which of course, there were not. He rubbed the fingertips together, remembering the feeling. It's like it lingered still.

When was Leo going to tell them that his Ninpō hurts him?

—

Well! One positive of this body switch thing: Donnie could be sure Leo would check them both over for injuries, and do it well. Since one was Donnie’s body and the other was, currently, Donnie’s perception.

As Leo was doing now, in med bay. Standing in front of Donnie, in Donnie’s body. Donnie sat on the gurney, going along with the examination. Leo clicked off the light, and Donnie blinked to clear his vision.

“No concussion,” Leo commented, and oh, that’s good. His shell—an actual, hard-scute carapace—and his right shoulder were a bit achy, but if Leo found nothing wrong, it was probably regular fight aftermath and would all be gone by tomorrow.

Donnie had never before questioned whether Leo treated himself medically as well as he did with them. But, well.

Donnie looked back down at his hands—Leo’s hands—rubbing the fingertips together, frowning.

“Alright, you’re good to go,” Leo said, in Donnie’s voice but in his own manner, very odd. The words lilted all the wrong directions, down instead of up. They even spoke with slightly different registers. He patted Donnie on the shell, getting up.

Donnie had never questioned Leo’s care of himself before, but this situation made a lot of new queries pop up.

Did Leo’s mystic powers hurt him? Or was this a consequence of Donnie being in his body? Or, if it was a regular thing for Leo—since when? Since always? Since they unlocked their Ninpō? Or was it some sort of recent development?

And, more upsettingly, if it was a regular thing... why did Leo never say anything? How did they never notice? Donnie wracked his memory, but not a single peep about it arose. No complaining, no jokes, no flinch or wince, no stutter when summoning up a portal (except back when his portals were at their most... faulty), nothing. Not a single thing.

Perhaps– perhaps Donnie really was just making far-fetched assumptions. Classic Donnie overthink! It was most likely just a side effect of the body swap—their Ninpō was a reflection of themselves, it was unfitting and unnatural to use someone else’s, surely. He wasn’t even sure why he’d considered the option!

(“Casey, when I get to the other side, you close that door–”

Staring upwards, shellshocked.

Color and light and debris hurling as a portal snaps shut.)

Donnie’s breaths were shallow and perfectly measured, and he–

“Dee?” his own voice questioned, and Donnie blinked, clearing his throat and pushing himself to his feet. He was faced with his own questioning eyebrow arch. Man, that really did look great. What an occasion, to truly witness oneself from an external point of view. Fascinating!

“I’m good, I’m good, no concussion,” he affirmed.

“You’re spacey,” Leo pointed out, arranging his stuff in med bay. Which was hilarious, considering he left a mess literally everywhere else. But med bay? Always stocked up and organized.

...Well. Hm. Thinking about it... Leo’s room was... cleaner recently, too. Or perhaps that wasn’t the most precise of descriptors. More... neater. Far less clutter.

Far less trinkets and colorful posters. Odd.

Anyway. Wow, Donnie’s face was expertly skeptical.

Donnie rolled his eyes. Leo’s eyes. The eyes that were currently under his temporary ownership, responsibility and control.

“Yeah, I was... thinking,” he said casually.

“Uh, yeah, when aren’t you?” Leo joked, his lighthearted grin cracking over Donnie’s face.

Donnie generously ignored that, because he had questions to dig out answers for.

“Hey, you kinda used my Ninpō during that fight, right?” he started.

“Sort of, I guess,” Leo shrugged, closing the cabinet and leaning on it relaxed to face Donnie.

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

And then.

“Yeah, a little, now that I think about it,” Leo tapped his chin, casual, easy. No tells whatsoever. Donnie scrutinized him. Absolutely zero deviation from his regular mannerisms. Heck, he somehow made them sit comfortably even in Donnie’s body.

But.

But Donnie had caught that. The immediate denial. He narrowed his eyes at his twin.

There were two options:

Leo had not felt the pain, and it was specific to Donnie using Leo’s mystic ability;

Or Leo had felt the pain, and his immediate reflex was to lie about it.

Donnie had absolutely no clue which one was the truth. At his sides, he rubbed his fingers together, reflecting.

It was sharp. Like a shock. But a... shock from a very tiny blade. But if a small blade could cover the entire surface of his hands. His fingertips and palms, gripping the katana’s hilt.

“Did you?” Leo asked, approaching and reaching a hand to take Donnie’s current ones, probably to check them over.

Ack. Welp, can’t really get out of this one.

“Yes, a little,” Donnie said, offering his—Leo’s—hands for inspection. Oh, wait, this was a perfect opportunity! Leo was actually engaging the conversation instead of deflecting! “Does it usually–”

“‘Course not, imagine that,” Leo laughed, gently rubbing and prodding his fingers and palms. No pain.

“...Huh, I... guess it must be from the switch,”

“Oohh yeeaahh yeah yeah yeah!” Leo nodded, “Totally, you’re so right,”

...Very weird to hear that from Donnie’s mouth, but, okay.

—

All things considered, dinner was pretty normal. Sure, Donnie’s body felt... weird, and their brothers kept getting them confused, prompting a quick mask switch. Donnie also took his goggles and arm brace.

Seeing Leo’s blue bandana on his own face, and with no additional eyebrows, was incredibly... well. Donnie never quite understood the feeling of “uncanny valley”, but he was now getting a Bachelor's. Maybe he'd experienced something similar when seeing humans for the first time? But he’d been so young, it had been easy for his mind to adapt and roll with it. They're mutants and they engage with all manner of other sapient and non-sapient and of-questionable-sapience beings—he doesn't pick up on facial expressions on all of them equally.

Not the point.

Point is, he was watching his body, with Leo’s cut mask and Leo’s mannerisms, across the table. But Leo appeared... unbothered, really. Behavior: standard. Which seemed to be putting everyone else at ease.

Donnie wondered how he looked from the outside. He tried to imagine Leo’s body with his own posture and expressions, and it just felt... uncomfortable. They're twins, so a lot of their attitude often overlaps—to the point where their brothers call it creepy sometimes. But when it differs? It differs. Kind of like when Donnie messed with their brains and accidentally overdosed them with his personal brand of Neurodivergence™, but... in reverse. Mmmmkind of.

But! Right now, they were just eating pizza, with Mikey showing them videos of a new Youtube channel he got into. Uhh something about scrapbooking or journaling?? And Donnie actually felt quite hungry, so he was just... eating.

Everyone was just... sort of alright with the current situation. It's just a thing that is. Draxum will fix it. And if he doesn't, they'd find a way. Compared to the world ending due to an alien invasion, this seemed banal.

“Hey hey hey, dudes, watch this,” Leo caught their attention, waving his hands and getting up. Then, with Donnie’s voice and way too accurately in Donnie’s style, he leaned back and crossed his arms, saying “Eugh, this pizza has cheese? That is way too much flavor for moi’s precious taste!”

Oh so that's how it was going to be, huh?

“That's not how you use moi,” Donnie said dryly.

“That's not how you use moi,” Leo parroted, in Donnie’s voice, just as dry. With just a toooouchh of mockery in it, and their dual-trademark smirk. Raph and Mikey, the traitors, giggled and cackled.

Donnie leaned back, a hand to his plastron—Leo’s plastron—for The Drama™.

“Well I, your lea-dur, say it isn't flavorful enough!” he stated with a swooping tone. “Put some kiwi on there! Throw in a couple marshmallows too, for good measure!” he declared, making their other two brothers laugh.

“I prefer mine with radiation,” Leo said primly, sticking Donnie’s snout up, making Mikey chortle.

“Careful, it may mutate you,” Donnie warned kindly, trying to mimic Leo’s way of speech from memory, “And then you might actually gain a second brain cell,”

It... hm. Yes, they teased each other, yes, it was banter. Raph and Mikey wooped, they started placing bets, and Donnie and Leo did increasingly stupider impressions of each other, and it was fun.

But it didn’t... feel right. Now that Donnie was seeing everything through a new perspective—quite literally—Leo was acting... odd. Unusual, as in, outside of what Donnie grew used to being Leo. He was only noticing it now, when Leo’s face and his voice couldn’t deceive him that it’s still Leo, of course he’s acting like himself.

Leo didn’t escalate it. Not really. He didn’t go for the throat. He didn’t go Full Silly. His entire demeanor felt... dampened, which was really, really weird for their Always Full-Max Silly brother.

...Oooorrr Donnie was just being weirded out by watching his own face and body move externally and out of his control.

—

Donnie felt nausea upon going to bed, but that's alright. Stomach upset sounded like a reasonable side effect of being body swapped. The pizza sat heavy.

His shoulder and shell were still cramping, too, even after he'd done some stretches. Eh. Not like he isn't used to some cramping or whatevs.

It just... felt like he couldn't get comfortable in his bed. Maybe it was the hard carapace, he'd theorize, but it's not like he hasn't slept in his battle shell before which, sure, wasn't exactly snuggly, but he'd still been able to sleep.

He tossed. He turned. His eyes—Leo’s eyes—felt a little buzzy, like the melodic hum of electricity all around, so it's not like he wasn't sleepy. And it felt like there was a... some sort of weight on his chest. He couldn't decide whether his blankets were too warm or not warm enough.

Donnie sighed, rubbing his face. Leo’s face. Weiiirddd.

He turned on his side yet again, to check the time on his epic purple analog clock.

00:23 p.m.

Not even that late. And yet it felt like the night was stretching endless. A liminal space. He turned to lay on his plastron. Leo’s plastron. The weight there persisted. Hm. Hopefully Leo wasn't having lung issues. Just in case, Donnie inhaled. Long and deep, feeling the air pass through his nostrils. Until he felt his lungs stretch and strain.

Nope. That felt like a pleasantly deep inhale. No whistling, no obstruction, nothing.

Strange thing: Donnie’s room smelled like... him. It smelled like Donnie. Which... shouldn't be surprising. But usually you can't smell your own scent, due to being exposed to it constantly, and therefore being entirely desensitized.

Donnie couldn't smell Leo’s, right now. Yet he could smell what he could only, logically, deduce was his own scent. Or at least that of his room.

Metals and plastics and other materials. Soldering. Ever so slightly—pen and marker ink. The bed sheets. Something specific he could not quite describe.

It... wasn't a bad smell, he was pleasantly surprised to note. He could see how this smell could be comforting, even. Familiar and homey and secure. He pulled the blanket a little tighter around himself, curling into himself. Yawned. Buried his face—Leo’s face—into his pillow.

...

Simultaneously, the weight in his chest both loosened, just a little, and ached more. His shoulders—Leo’s shoulders—felt too wide, his thighs too thin, his back... weird. He curled his toes.

Donnie wondered if... there was something he needed. Something the body needed, that he just couldn't analyze and figure out. Water? Food?

...No, no it didn't feel like any of those, even though he was not an expert on the matter. He’d practically just eaten, too. Maybe it was the ache in his shoulder and his shell that was off-putting?

...You know what! There could be a simple, obvious solution to this. Donnie grabbed his phone.

The smarter twin™: I can't sleep and I feel weird

The smarter twin™: Is there something I'm missing for your body

It was immediately seen.

Yapper boy™: lol

Yapper boy™: cmere

The smarter twin™: ???

Yapper boy™: youkl see

The smarter twin™: SIGH

Donnie sighed, for realz, rubbing his eyes. He hated it when–

...Hm. Well, actually. Thinking about it.

Leo hasn't really done the very annoying “not telling them the plan” that he used to do. Not since the Invasion. Only really for silly stuff.

Huh.

You could say this situation was giving Donnie a new perspective, zing. He was really seeing the world through different eyes, ha!

He grinned a little, wrapping the blanket around himself. Time to go tell these to Leo and then gloat how he had been the one to think of them first, because he is hilarious.

Leo immediately opened his arms upon Donnie’s arrival, smirking, and huh.

Huh.

The press of another’s body helped tremendously with that... weight. With the odd sensation of misplacement. Like everything slotted into place as easily as slotting into an embrace. Literally.

This wasn't much like Donnie. Sure, it's not that he hated physical contact—was quite the fan of it, really, unless he was actively upset. Or if it was from somebody who wasn't his loved ones. He wondered what brought on this new craving. Leo’s body?

...Strange.

Leo never came to them to snuggle.

Even though he was a huge cuddle-bug before. But not anymore, evidently.

Donnie, ever-so-discreetly, frowned at that.

...When did that happen?

—

When he woke up, the light pain in his right shoulder and that one crick at his shell—Leo’s shell—remained.

Donnie grunted, rolling sort of on his side, sort of on his back, digging his heels into the mattress and rolling his shoulders. Pushed himself up, smacking his lips, blinking. Rubbed his eyes. Yawned.

Eugh, his breath was rancid.

“Do you ever brush your teeth,” he muttered, jarred to hear his voice sounding so different. Right, right. Body swap.

He was a little surprised to hear an off-tone chuckle, and he properly cracked his eyes open. Oh huh, Leo—in his body—was, in fact, still here. He looked to have been awake for a bit. He was scrolling on his phone, but clicked it off and put it to the side now.

“It's a waste of time, I've got so much leadering to do,” Leo joked, also pushing himself up and stretching.

Donnie rolled his shoulder, trying to rub it a little to see if that’d relieve the persistent ache. It didn't. He yawned again.

Leo got up, snatching a hoodie to put on.

“My battle shell is–”

“I know, D,” Leo cut him off. “I’ll go get it in a mo. Your shell just feels weird bare,” he shuddered theatrically. “Like a lizard,”

“Yeah, well, yours feels like a badly fitting box,” Donnie fired back. “Box boy,”

Leo gasped. “My curves! You wound me,” he dramaticized himself out the room, and Donnie chuckled.

That just left him. Still sitting in Leo’s bed, in Leo’s body.

He should get up. Right.

It just. Felt... like... mmm. Not fun?

He... doesn't usually have this pause before getting up. Usually he's itching to get out of bed and get back to whatever ongoing project he has.

He stared at Leo’s room, still sitting there on Leo’s bed.

...Dang. Leo’s room... was cleaner. Hm, well, again, maybe not cleaner.

...

Emptier. Where did his many posters go...? Now there were only two left. One of Lou Jitsu, and one of Jupiter Jim.

...Welp, Donnie wasn't going to judge his brother’s turn to the light (tidiness)!

Now he just had to get up.

...Except... there was a new weight. Was it Leo’s shell? Was he not used to the weight of a natural, irremovable carapace? Weird.

That didn't ring very plausible, because the weight wasn't at his back. It was... it was...

Chest. Legs. Everywhere. Making it difficult to break the position he hunched over in the longer he remained in it, a vicious cycle.

He just had to get up! Go and brush his teeth so his mouth didn't taste foul. Get water to drink. Coffee, perhaps breakfast, even though he did not feel that hungry. Maybe. He wasn't sure. There was just a prodding in his stomach.

Ugh.

Thinking about it all made the weight worse. It felt like standing on that rooftop, looking up at the Technodrome. Raph lost. No plan, no direction, no hope. Nothing. And now, no Leo to turn around with a crazy idea that nonetheless inspired some desperate hope within.

Just weight. Just... dread. Anticipatory exhaustion at the awaiting cardio.

Why was he feeling like this?

In the end, Mikey called him for breakfast and that aided in kicking his buttocks out of bed.

—

Donnie didn’t feel much like eating this morning, so, he wasn’t eating much. It wasn’t unusual for him. Mikey knew not to be hurt by it. Donnie was focusing on some fruit.

Leo was eating normal as ever. He was smiley and fresh as ever. Which were strange observations. Not things you’d pay mind to. But Donnie was. He wasn’t sure why, but he was paying a little more attention to Leon after their switcheroo.

Leo was hurt after the Invasion, but he’d bounced right back up. In fact, he’d bounced back up faster than any of them. In fact, he’d bettered himself.

Case in point,

“So when’s Draxum coming by with his magic whatever-there?” Leo said, in Donnie’s voice, slurping on a smoothie.

Readily asking for Draxum’s presence. Donnie would bet it was for his sake, not due to Leo having a sudden change of heart about the man.

“A little later!” Mikey answered. “Why, is something bothering you??”

“Nah, not really,” Leo shrugged. “I just want to go back to feeling happiness looking at the mirror,” he teased, and Donnie rolled his eyes. “Plus I’m sure D can’t be enthused about this,”

“Meh,” Donnie shrugged. “Honestly? It is not as abhorrent as you’d imagine,”

Leo looked at him, just for a second. Over too quickly for Donnie to pay proper attention to it and to then analyze it.

“Wanna know whose body would be super cool to warp into?” Leo brought up.

“Oh! Oh!” Mikey waved his hand up like he’s in a school classroom, grinning, “Lou Jitsu?”

“Lou Jitsu, babeeyyy!”

It was half an hour later that Donnie realized just how smoothly Leo had diverted the conversation.

(And only later would it occur to him it might’ve been intentional.)

That half an hour later just so happened to include Donnie’s alarm blaring.

“Oohh, a crime,” he stated, checking the info to rattle off the relevant code.

“Alright team, let's roll!” Leo exclaimed easily, his energy immediately bouncing off the rest of the team, everyone going off to grab their weapons.

...Wait.

Their... weapons, oh, boy, uh, well Donnie had leagues more experience with a bō, buuut they never tested if they can access their own Ninpō like this, ah, dang–

That question was quickly answered by Leo skidding to his lab.

“Dude, you would not believe this–”

“You can't access your Ninpō? Yes, me neither,” Donnie agreed, already holding his bō out for Leo to take. “You know how to use it?”

“...Well if I don't, I'm about to learn real quick,” Leo was grinning with his face, “Portal us in, leader in purple!” he tossed his katanas to Donnie, and Donnie scrambled to catch them by the hilts and not roughly in the middle i.e. where he would catch a bō staff.

Hoo boy was this about to be an experience.

At least like this Donnie needn’t relay the location information to his portal-able brother, because now he was the portal-able brother.

Now all he had to do was make a portal. A proper one, with concentration.

And with that same shock-burn to his hands.

Hhhngh. Well! At least getting lightly (or medium-level) electrocuted wasn't a new experience for him! Honestly, Donnie wasn't sure why it was so hhhngh to him. It should be familiar as anything.

Perhaps he was overthinking it. Classic. But judging by his scanners, they had to get to the scene now.

So as Mikey and Raph joined in on their huddle, Donnie sucked in a breath and slashed the swords through the air in one of the ways he's seen Leo do.

“No, you gotta put more juice into it,” Leo commented oh so helpfully upon the nothing that took place.

“Ah, thank you, such constructive critique,” Donnie deadpanned, hands gripping the hilts. Ugh. He'd already struggled with one set of mystic powers, now he had to figure out another?!

...Hmm, y'know, that might be a good idea. Donnie thought back to his own arduous mystic journey.

He never quite managed to get the hang of “just do it”. It didn't come naturally to him, not in the same way it appeared to with his brothers.

But Donnie focused on the same feeling that helped get his Ninpō thrumming. Acknowledging the facts: that this was something he could do for his family, to help them, to boost them, and he liked helping and boosting them. Even now it pushed this not-unpleasant tightness at his chest that made him want to shake his hands and chuckle a bit.

In the same rhythm, a glow crawled up the blades.

“Oh, uh, also you gotta think about exactly where you wanna go,” Leo mentioned, and now that was actually useful guidance. “And where you are and the distance between the two. And, y'know, the size of the hole you're shredding. Ooh, and also the angle and where it's facing, and–”

“Jeez, do you seriously think about all that when making portals?” Mikey was staring at their– well, their current soft-shelled brother, which, huh. Good point. Now they were all looking at Leo, who shrugged, nonchalant as ever.

“Donnie, portal,” Leo snapped his fingers, and right! Right, crime!

(Another diversion Donnie only caught later, when he thought back to it.)

“Right!” he slashed the blades through the air, and then once more with the crackle of mystic energy and–

Donnie yelped as the electricity-like pain bit down on his hands, immediately dropping the swords to the ground. Gah! It was worse the second time around!

Leo snorted and clapped his back, hopping into the portal that hung before them. And he did need to hop, it wasn't particularly large, oh boy, Donnie sure hoped Raph would be able to fit through.

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