#sun: huh??? he didn’t! he said he spilled juice in it and it never worked again!

[starheirxero]

THIS PROBS SEEMS RANDOM BUT THERE’S CONTEXT I PROMISE LOL I just can’t say it all without spoiling a huge part of my tsams fic …

Eclipse’s voice box ends up getting very very damaged tho and when he starts to finally reconnect with the main celestial gang, everyone’s asking what happened and his ass is getting VERY bored with the grim truth, so he just starts making shit up LMAO

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Lazy Mornings - 5

Lazy Mornings:  A Captain America Fanfic

Lazy Mornings Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  1696

Warnings: smut (MF, vaginal sex)

Synopsis: Steve Rogers has trouble taking time for himself.  When his friends set him up with a person with a very unusual skill, perhaps he can learn that the quiet moments are just as important as everything else.

Chapter 5

There was something a little magical about the way the sun crept through the curtains as Steve slowly woke.  It fell in a clear beam over the bed, and dust motes floated in it, glowing brightly like they were alive and filled with their own kind of magic.  From the beam the light diffused through the room, blanketing in a soft white haze that made everything seem like it was wrapped in cloud.

Steve had slept well.  Better than he could ever remember sleeping before.  It was the good, deep, restful sleep that most people just long for.  There was no urgency to waking either, so he did it gradually, appreciating the scent of coffee, linen, and fresh-cut grass, along with the warmth of your body pressed against him.

You slept so close to him - practically buried into his side.  Sleeping with another person usually brought with it some minor discomforts that were a trade-off to the intimacy of sharing such a space with another person.  Hair that got in your mouth.  Awkward arm placements.  Overheating from the shared body temperature.  Accidentally getting kicked in rather tender areas.

There was none of that with you.  The bed which would normally be too soft for him to be truly comfortable was somehow perfect.  The air temperature was cool, but the bed was perfectly warm in that way that made it hard to leave.  The way you tucked in against him felt like the two of you were made for each other.  Like two pieces of a puzzle, or Lego bricks.

You made a soft sound and your arms tightened around him.  “Good morning,” you mumbled, in a sleep-heavy voice.  “Will you stay?”

Steve hummed and pressed his cheek against the top of your head.  “Mm-hmm.”

He wasn’t even quite sure what he was agreeing to.  Now?  Forever?  He didn’t know, but either way that answer felt right.

You hummed and nuzzled at his neck, kissing his throat and gently grazing your teeth over his skin.  “Good,” you whispered.  “I have plans.”

He pulled back and looked down at you, smiling a lazy smile.  You looked ethereal in the soft morning light.  You returned his gaze and reached up and ran your finger along his jaw so that his morning stubble scratched over your fingertips.  For a moment that’s all either of you did - just lay there gazing at each other - and then he broke.  He leaned in and kissed you deeply.  Your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled yourself tightly against him.  There was a slowness to your movements that seemed to translate to a deeper intimacy.  There was no rush.  No desperate need.  The two of you took your time to just kiss and caress each other’s skin.  He ran his hands over you as you raked your fingers through his hair.  Your hips moved slowly against him so your cunt rubbed against his morning erection.

The pressure of your body against his, the warmth that radiated from your skin, and the way his body buzzed under your fingers, made that lazy, cozy feeling start to blend into his desire and need.

He kissed your throat and massaged your ass as he slowly rutted against you.  Your fluids dripped from your cunt and coated his cock.  He hummed and when the head of his cock caught on your entrance, he pushed, slowly sinking into the warm passage.  The movement was met, not with a moan, but a soft contented sigh.

He rolled so he was on top of you and the two of you began to move together.  He rolled his hips penetrating you deeply, taking his time to feel every ridge and contour of your internal walls.  You counter, arching your back and rocking under him and clenching around him. The kissing was a constant tender caress.  Lips against lips and necks, collarbones, and chest.  It added to that soft buzz inside him, and the world became fuzzy and far off as the two of you made love.

“You feel so good, Steve,” you hummed against his throat.

He moaned in response and brought his lips to yours.  You nudged him and he rolled over so you were straddling him.  You broke the kiss and sat up, closing your eyes and letting your head loll back as you twisted and circled your hips while staying seated on his cock.  He watched you, mesmerized by the way your body moved as you rode him.  He ran his hands over your breasts and down your sides, letting one settle on your hip and the other over your pussy, working your clit with his thumb.  You moaned and moved a little faster, your lips parted in silent pleasure.  Your cunt began to clench and flutter and with a deep moan, you came, your body seizing up.  Steve grabbed your hips and began to thrust up into you, chasing his own release.  When it came, it was like his orgasm washed through him like a wave, he closed his eyes and groaned as his muscles clenched and he spilled inside you.

You stayed sitting on top of him for a moment, just letting yourself relax and come down from your orgasm high.  As your breathing returned to normal, you climbed off him.  “I’m going to make breakfast,” you said, grabbing your robe and sliding it on.

Steve stretched and watched you leave the room as he debated what to do.  He hadn’t ever had breakfast in bed, and he couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t comfortable right where it was.

His need to be up and participating in the world ended up winning out, and he dragged himself out of bed.  He tried to keep in the spirit of the lazy morning though.  He used the bathroom and pulled on his boxers and t-shirt before coming out to find you.  The kitchen smelled of coffee, bacon, and maple syrup, and you stood at the stove singing to yourself.  He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist as he nuzzled into your neck.

“Really giving yourself to it, huh?”  You asked.  “I can feel it.  Makes me feel a little more real.”

“If that’s all it takes for you to feel that way, I’ll have to do this more often,” Steve said.

You laughed and turned, kissing his cheek.  “If you really want to spoil yourself, the paper should be on the doorstep.”

Steve let you go and went to the door.  Sitting on your welcome mat in the hall was a copy of the New York Times.  He picked it up feeling a little bewildered.  Since waking up from the ice he’d seen newspapers being sold, but he’d never known anyone who bought them.  He’d been dropped into a world of leading-edge technology where the new was delivered digitally in an instant.  It was all tablets and holographic screens in his world now.  Having an actual honest-to-god newspaper felt a little like he was stepping back in time.

He took it to the reading nook you had by the window and reclined back on the window bench, pulling the plush blanket you had sitting there over his legs and unfolding the paper.

It was strange how strong the scent of fresh-cut grass was, even though he wasn’t sure he could smell it as much as he formed the idea of it in his head just from being around you.  If he looked down through the window, it was just another busy New York street below him.  You lived across from Central Park though, and looking right ahead he had views of trees and grass he could sink into the illusion of a Sunday in the suburbs with neighbors mowing their lawn while he took his time to read the paper.

“Don’t you look comfortable here,” you said, bringing over a tray.  Sitting on it was a plate filled with pancakes, eggs, and bacon, a mug of hot coffee, and a glass of orange juice.  He shifted a little and took the tray, placing it over his lap, and you took a seat in the wingback chair beside him.

“You’re spoiling me,” Steve said, picking up his coffee and breathing in the aroma.  “You’re not eating?”

“When I have someone who’s really giving themselves over to what I have to offer, I don’t actually need to eat,” you replied.

Steve surveyed you, raising his eyebrow.  “Thor always needs to eat.”

You laughed.  “Thor and I are slightly different entities.  And I don’t pretend to understand it.  I am feeling it very strongly from you right now though because this is not something you let yourself do very often.  It’s nourishing.”

“For us both,” Steve said and started to eat.  He took his time to savor it all.  It wasn’t the best food he’d ever had, but it seemed to hit the spot exactly.  The coffee was hot and brewed just how he liked it, bitter but not burned.  The eggs were sunny side up but the white had cooked through while the yolk was still runny.  The bacon was salty and crispy and mixed with the maple syrup on the pancakes perfectly.

“Do you think we can actually work long term?”  Steve asked as he ate.  “We seem to need such different things.  And what would happen if I stopped fighting and just retried?  Would that affect how this worked for you?”

You shrugged.  “To answer your second question first; no it wouldn’t.  Eventually, you’d stop appreciating the lie-ins and it’s really in the desire and appreciation of them that gives me my power,” you said.  “As for the first, I couldn’t say.  No one knows what the future brings or how long people can stay compatible.  It’s working now, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Steve agreed, and sipped on his coffee thoughtfully.  Maybe he needed this.  A reason to balance his life so he took something for himself once in a while.  Maybe appreciating the quiet moments more would help him get through the chaos of his everyday life.  Maybe his friends had been right, it was time for him to get a life too.

// NEXT

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 2

Part 1

This is gonna be many more parts... I can already tell 

Word Count: 2.2k

SFW, SLOW BURN romance friends to lovers, gender neutral reader, anyone can enjoy it and place themselves as the reader!

- Admin Myah

You spent your entire free period up on that roof, hoping by some miracle that you weren’t crazy, that the group of second-year students that had seemingly vanished before your eyes were in fact pranking you, and upon seeing that you weren’t amused, would get tired of hiding and pop out, finishing the surprise. No such luck, however, and so you left, the second-period bell forcing your hand. Spending the first period of your day - a bit of free time meant for studying, finishing homework, or otherwise enriching yourself educationally - up on the roof and unaccounted for by any teachers was a bit risky already, and you were a decent enough student. There was no way you could just sit there all day, skipping the rest of your classes. Sighing, you resolved to just give up the hunt for your destined main character and by extension the group of potential new friends.

＊

Often after school, you headed to the library, which stayed open along with a select few other areas of Shujin for student use after the last bell rang. Today, however, you felt drawn back to that place, back to that rooftop where you’d seen Akira, Ryuji, and Ann disappear hours earlier. It just wasn’t sitting right with you; you felt a stirring in your soul, like a tiny voice in your head, a shimmering blue butterfly in your stomach. Lucky for you, the rooftop was also open, though you’d never really spent time there. Certain students, including another third-year you admired raised plants up there where the sun could reach them, while others simply came up there for the view or the breeze, some private space to study.

Today, the breeze was indeed blowing, and you sat there writing as it whistled past your ears, polishing up some plot points, scrawling down ideas for your protagonist straight from the imagination, since it seemed you wouldn’t be finding any real-life inspiration anytime soon. It was frustrating, writer’s block, and for the past month or so, it’s all you could do to write a single paragraph. You always found yourself lost in the pages of the novels you loved, and you could identify great writing, appreciate the artistry of another writer, but it was sometimes so hard to put your own thoughts down on the pages of your journal. Why was it so hard? You knew what real romance was. You knew which themes and cliches were overdone and unrealistic. You had a mature and healthy outlook on real relationships and could pick apart the stereotypical female protagonist who was strong and independent until she met the man who would break down her walls or the toxic bad boy who women loved on paper but would cry their eyes out over in real life. You’d read thousands of books and fan-fiction, listened to hundreds of audiobooks, watched tons of romance movies, so why, lately, was it not clicking?! Where was the disconnect between having thoughts and transcribing said thoughts down into your very own masterpiece? Fantasy came so easily to you, sci-fi, non-fiction essays for class, mysteries, research papers, but romance, the genre you loved the most, seemed to purposely elude you.

You were shaken out of your frazzled state when something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. Shaking your head a bit to try and focus your vision, you looked over your shoulder to see that the black spot on the fringe of your blind spot was in fact actually there. You rubbed your eyes just to be sure, but there it was, a wavering black inky spot hovering in the air. Another appeared, then another, now red in color. You were beginning to feel insane for the second time that day, but rather safe than sorry, you quickly stood, shoving your work and pencils into your bag and shuffling away from the blobs, which were now oscillating and dancing around each other, phasing in and out of existence like a fisheye lens. This was a bit too freaky for your liking, and you were beginning to feel a frightening chill up your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and you elected to put some kind of barrier of safety between yourself and the floating bubbles. Like any rational person, your mind was screaming “unknown situation: possible threat: run!” but again, that little butterfly in the pit of your guts was saying there was something worth staying for. So, running to the door to the roof, you swung it open, a ringing in your ear starting to buzz and chime. You closed it frantically, pressing your nose up against the small glass windows that allowed a limited view of the roof. A small gasp escaped your lips, and you instinctively grabbed onto your bag a bit tighter.

The red and black splotches began to dissipate and fade like some kind of glitch in reality, and three figures appeared like mist, like ghosts before beginning to solidify and slowly become tangible silhouettes. Then, as if some kind of magic ritual was coming to a close, the figures poofed into existence, and your brain processed the scene before you.

“Holy shit…” you whispered. There, clear as day were Sakamoto, Takamaki, and the new kid. They were just standing adjusting their clothes, stretching their arms and legs, situating their personal items. It was just then that you saw a little furry head poke up out of Akira’s school bag. Your harsh, analytical gaze softened a bit upon seeing the small black cat that appeared. Had he been carrying that cat around all day? Surely not, right? How would he keep it quiet and still? “What the…?” The inquisitive glare returned to your features when they began… speaking to the cat. It wasn’t the cute baby talk people often use with their pets, either. It was a full-on, serious conversation, and the cat was meowing back, clearly, in response to their statements.

It was a bit muffled by the thick door, but you could make out bits and pieces.

 Metaverse? Palace. Shadows... treasure? Kamoshida? Great, that asshole, but what could he have to do with this? What even was this? 

You were questioning everything you knew. You were wondering if the juice you had this morning at breakfast was spiked. There was no winning in this scenario, either you were crazy, or these kids were. You looked downward, contemplating your navel as your mind tried to make sense of the events of today. You glanced up again, trying to eavesdrop a little better, get some more detail. You took a step closer, trying to will the sound of their voices through the door to be just a little louder, just a little clearer, when Sakamoto suddenly pivoted, stretching and cracking his spine with a sigh.

“Gah!”  You shouted out. His eyes met yours through the window and widened like a kid caught in the cookie jar. You jumped with a start, taking a cautionary step back and nearly tumbling down the stairs. It was a miracle you caught yourself in time, but your little outburst had definitely caught the attention of the group. Your cover was thoroughly blown. “Oh, no…” You cursed under your breath, spotting both Ann and Akira’s eyes on you now as well.

“Shit! Do you think they saw?” Ryuji’s hands flew to his hair, mussing and working out his frustrations on the dyed strands while simultaneously, Akira was already in motion, rushing toward the door to apprehend the unwelcome listener.

Your heartbeat sped up, and like a gazelle spotted by a lion, a fire was lit under you and you began to sprint, clumsily fumbling down the stairwell and onto the flat platform where the stairs rotated 90 degrees and continued downward. Inhaling sharply, your foot, nervous and supporting jelly-like legs, missed the final step. Your belongings, along with your body, spilled across the square, flat platform, and the door behind you slammed open.

“Hey!” Akira’s yell echoed through the stairwell, and your thoughts bounced off the walls just like his voice. Scrambling, you scooped only the essentials into your hands: your journal, the phone of course, a few homework binders, ditching the easily replaceable items like chewing gum and pencils. Taking to one scraped-up knee and ready to bolt, you felt a hand close upon your bicep and clamp down firmly. “Hey, hey… slow down.” Akira again, now gentler with his tone, spun you around to face him. You stood clutching your things to your chest like a life preserver. “I’m not gonna like… kill you or anything.” A breathy chuckle, and now he was on the platform next to you, scanning you up and down for injuries with his hands in his pockets. “So, uh… so don’t kill yourself by fallin’ down these stairs, huh?” He played off the tense feeling in the air with humor, but the sheer proximity of him, standing there in front of you mere inches away in the cramped space, it was like you could hear your blood pounding in your ears.

What was he thinking right now? Did he think you were some weirdo stalker? I mean, you’d just met him this morning and now you were watching him through a small window like a creep after school… after following him there. Wait, that wasn’t important right now! Was he going to kill you? He didn’t seem like the type of guy to do that, but then again, he didn’t seem like the type to phase in and out of existence either… neither did Ryuji and Ann… what were people with powers like that capable of?

Right now, you were just going to mind your business, and play it safe. It wasn’t worth getting mixed up with people who warp through a “metaverse” and talk to animals just for some good writing material, not if it turned out to be dangerous.

“Well…” you hesitated, “it’s none of my business, what I just saw, and I won’t tell anyone.” You breathed a little easier, tried to regain your composure, to not look too weak.

“So they did see! Awww, shit!” Ryuji’s head popped through the door, interrupting the uncomfortable conversation, and the hot air of the enclosed space was cut through by a gust of wind from the now open rooftop door.

“Now, just hold on, Ryuji,” Akira held out one hand to placate his rather temperamental friend.

“No, no really it’s fine that you talk to your… cat and just… vanish... and I’m sure it’s all fine and multiverse-y and…”

“Metaverse.” Akira corrected you with a small smile, bending down to pick up the rest of your scattered objects.

“Dude!” Ryuji ran a hand down his face in defeat.

“They saw us, no point in being tight-lipped,” he stood, handing them to you.

“Metaverse… right,” you took them, watching every move he made carefully. “Sorry, I’m… a bit more... eloquent in my writing,” you moved to the side, ready to sneak past and descend the rest of the stairs. Anything to get on with your day and escape this unbelievable situation. Akira shuffled, mirroring you and completely blocking the stairwell. There was something clever about him, something sharp and charismatic. He knew exactly what he was doing, what he wanted to achieve, and he knew how to calmly and smoothly execute his plans, unlike Sakamoto, who was far less… organized.

“Writing…?” He was keeping you locked into this conversation, as gently and amiably as he could, and you were not leaving until he was sure he could trust your word.

“Uh… yeah, that’s why I was up…” your eyes met his, quickly recoiling and looking toward the floor again, “...up on the roof. I was just looking for a quiet place to write.”

“What, uh, what kind of stuff do you write?” Ann had now joined Ryuji at the top of the stairs, leaving you feeling completely caged in. Ann threw Akira - who seemed like the leader of the small band of misfits - a desperate glance, a sort of look that seemed to ask: “Where are you going with this? Are we screwed?”

“It’s… it’s kind of private. It’s just… romance stuff. I don’t know, I do all kinds of different stuff, whatever I’m in the mood for.” Akira nodded, more to his friends than you, something you had a feeling you weren’t supposed to pick up on. He stuck his hand out flat, gesturing toward the rooftop behind you. You took the hint, heading a bit anxiously back up the stairs, Ryuji and Ann making way for you.

“You any good?” Akira followed behind you, and now on the rooftop once again, the cool air felt freeing, less constricting, though his question felt a bit insulting, a bit nosey.

“I don’t know… I’ve been told I am…” The three friends took a seat in areas that seemed very familiar to them, like they’d been up here warping in and out of this realm many times before. Now settled into place, Ann spoke up, obviously as apprehensive as you were:

“Well do you… do you think…?” Her high-pitched voice seemed to be hesitant, not yet confident in her next words, not sure if they were all on the same page.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Akira smirked as if the three had one mind. He turned to you, trying to make eye contact that you vehemently avoided. “How would you feel about helping us out?”

[omnivorousshipper]

It's so late but I finally had time!!! So going off of the vampire Deckard AU request 😁😁😁 Can we have a werewolf Luke AU where Deckard is just as oblivious. Then some time after they somehow find out about the other or their secret is spilled by family members and it becomes such a shock, but they also love each there so much it's not that big of a deal!!!?????

I'm sorry that's so long but I just got so excited when I read it and I love Werewolf/Vampire relationships and it matches them beautifully 😍💕💕💕

Based off this fic

I absolutely love the idea that these two are just so in love that they don't even notice that the other isn't human!!

~~~

Luke knew all about the small quirks Deckard had and accepted them without question. But, he was still nervous to reveal his own issues

Like turning into a wolf every time the moon was full. Or how his hearing and sense of smell was much stronger than any human's. Or that he had incredible healing abilities

He was able to hide all of these things from Deckard

---

Deckard had to wonder how Luke was able to smell his cooking from almost any distance away. One time, the man was down the street when he had called Deckard up and asked what he was making

Usually these incidents left Deckard glowing with praise so he didn't question how it was possible. He was all too happy that Luke loved his cooking

Another thing Deckard found odd about his boyfriend was how quickly he could heal

Luke had gone off on a mission and gotten shot twice in the leg. Two weeks later, Luke wasn't even limping

Deckard had been concerned, but when Luke had kissed him and treated him to a very exciting night, the concern flew out of his mind. Luke was healthy again and that was all that mattered

The only thing that annoyed Deckard was how much dog hair he found in the house. He was constantly vacuuming and lint rolling clothes. And he had no idea how it got there

Luke's dog had extremely short hair and didn't shed, so where was it coming from?

Deckard had asked Luke, who told him he trained with the police dogs quite a lot. But Deckard wasn't completely sure if that was true. How was the hair ending up in their bed?

Even with these little things, Deckard wasn't bothered and loved Luke even more each day they lived together

---

Smiling, Deckard couldn't help but love the organized chaos that was occurring around him. Many of the Hobbs were crammed into Sefina's kitchen as they all raced around helping to make dinner

He was cutting up vegetables, the knife feeling like an extention of his arm. It always felt calming to make food, even if his body could only digest small amounts. He was glad the Hobbs family ate so much

"How are you doing, Deckard?" Sefina asked, coming up next to him

"Good. Almost done here. Then I can help you with something else." Deckard smiled at the woman

She smiled back and patted him on the back

"We don't always find people who can stand being around so many werewolves." She told him casually. "Too rowdy for them. But you and your family are so good to us."

Deckard blinkes

"Werewolves?" He stuttered

"Yes." Sefina's smile decreased slightly. "One of the last families in Samoa, but we're coming back."

Deckard nodded shakily and sighed in relief when the matriarchal Hobbs left him to his task

How the blood hell did he not notice Luke was a werewolf?!

---

Luke raised an eyebrow as he saw Owen and Hattie sitting under a tree, sipping at bottles of tomato juice. Even vacationing in Samoa, all three siblings kept drinking that stuff

Walking up to them, Luke looked down at them unimpressed

"Aren't you two going to do anything other than sit around?"

Owen glared up at him and barred his teeth. Luke always wondered how his teeth looked so sharp

"You try not burning up in the sun, arsehole!" He hissed and pulled Hattie closer to him

"Just put sunblock on!"

"That normally works, but the sun's just too strong." Hattie shook her head. "Vampires don't usually burst into flames, but it'll definitely burn us pretty badly if we stay out too long."

Luke's mouth dropped open

"Vampires?" He choked out

"Yeah." Owen rolled his eyes. "We're not some stereotype, numbnuts. We can survive most things."

Luke only nodded before turning away

How could he not tell that the Shaws were Vampires? Hell, he even lived with Deckard!

---

That night, Deckard felt himself grow nervous as Luke stepped into their bedroom. He had been unable to catch Luke alone all day and now he could talk to him privately

As the larger man stepped closer, Deckard swallowed at the strange look Luke was sending

"I think we need to talk." Deckard said softly. Luke only nodded

"Luke, I know you're a werewolf-"

"Deck, I know you're a vampire-"

They spoke over each other before staring

"How?" Deckard asked

"Your brother and sister spelled it out for me." Luke chuckled nervously. "I'm sorry, I thought it would be easier if I didn't tell you about me being a werewolf."

"Me too." Deckard said quietly

They were quiet as they stared into each other's eyes

"Is this going to affect us?" Luke spoke up finally

Thinking for a moment, Deckard shook his head

"No, I don't think so. We've been living together pretty well and dealing with each other's issues so far. I think we'll be fine."

Luke smiled broadly

"Good, because I wasn't planning on letting you go."

Deckard chuckled before walking up to Luke. Standing on his toes, he brushed his lips against Luke's

"You know, I've never tried werewolf blood before."

Luke's eyes grew dark as he wrapped his arms around Deckard

"Guess we'll have to change that, huh, princess?"

~~~

I hope you enjoyed friend!

[britishboystm]

Mistletoe Is Not Your Foe | The Day We Met: A Fred Weasley Mini Series

Inspired by:

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, kissing, self consciousness, swearing, awkwardness, underage drinking

WC: 2,719

Chapter Summary: The night of the Yule Ball brings up some things that were once untouched... then comes the aftermath.

Series Masterlist

***

December 25th 1994

Y/N, Fred, George, Alicia and Angelina had all agreed to attend the Yule Ball together as a group. They were all hoping that it would be a nice destresser from everything that had happened with the Triwizard tournament up to that point.

Y/N hadn’t really thought about going with someone as a date. The minute she heard about the Yule Ball, the only thing she could think about was dancing and laughing with her best friends by her side. Unfortunately, Lee had decided to opt out and go with a random Ravenclaw third year.

His loss, Y/N thought.

It was coming close to the beginning of the night and Y/N stood in front of that long mirror that all the girls shared in the dorm room. She stared at the light blue dress that swam down her figure, trying to look long enough until she hated it.

“You look beautiful Y/N.” Angelina pulled the hesitant girl out of her thoughts and walked over to stand behind her. Alicia nodded in agreement.

“We’ll have a good time I promise.”

Y/N responded with a whiny groan that made the other two girls silently giggle.

“I don’t know Ange. I’d rather just go to bed at this point.”

It was easy for Angelina to say. She stood confidently in this dark purple number that made her look like an absolute dream. Y/N felt slightly self conscious compared to her best friend. Alicia was also looking radiant in a canary number that made the room shine as though the sun came down to pay a visit.

“What if everyone laughs at me because I look bad?” She pouted as she covered herself at the torso. Angelina sighed and pushed her arms down.

“Here.” She pulled out the pin that had been holding Y/N’s H/L H/C up, allowing it to cascade.

“There. I think it looks better down, frames your face more.” Y/N blushed and used her hands to cover her hot pink cheeks.

“Stay right here.” Y/N watched as her friend rushed into the bathroom. She then quickly reappeared and planted herself in front of Y/N. She dipped her finger into a little silver tray of blue glitter and gently pressed it to the outer corners of Y/N’s eyes.

“Yes!” She explained proudly as she moved out of the way, placing her hands on her friends shoulders and turning her to face Alicia. Alicia swooned and stood up, joining the other two.

“Finished.” Angelina said as she laid her chin on Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N sighed in relief, starting to feel more confident than before.

They had planned to meet with the boys an hour before the ball properly started, so they began to do small final touches that were necessary before leaving.

George had sent on the message to Y/N the day prior that him and Fred had smuggled in some fire whiskey to make the night more enjoyable. Y/N had no qualms about that.

“You ready?” Angelina asked as she gathered her matching scarf. Y/N responded with a nod and grabbed Angelina and Alicia’s hands, pulling them out the door and down the stairs to the common room where the boys were waiting for them.

The girls collective giggles alerted the boys, who were waiting not so patiently for their arrival.

Once they found themselves at the bottom of the staircase, George shot up from the couch and let out an exasperated groan.

“Finally! Took you long enough.” This was when Fred finally shifted his gaze up to the trio from his place on the couch and lost all train of thought.

She looked so timid and humble and yet so confident and alluring. She was always so beautiful, but seeing her proudly wear it in that moment had his head spinning.

“Fred?” George asked his zombified twin, nudging him in the arm to jolt some kind of life into him. Fred then pulled himself out of his thoughts and shifted in place, trying to find his footing.

He hummed in response, clearly not hearing the question George had asked moments ago.

“I said are you ready to get absolutely pissed tonight?” His words were accompanied with a smirk. For more reasons than one.

“Yeah.” Was all Fred replied with. He certainly needed to be drunk to get through the night, that was for certain.

Y/N blushed slightly as she felt Fred’s eyes continue to seep into her entire being.

“Alrighty then. Let us begin, shall we?” George said, breaking the awkward silence with an eager rubbing of his hands.

The group found themselves not even twenty minutes later, laughing and rolling around the carpeted floor while passing around the bottle of fire whiskey. They all had forgotten about the time until Alicia finally took a moment to look up at the grandfather clock that hung above the fireplace.

“Shit we need to go!” She yelped, getting up from her place on the floor and rushing everyone else to follow her lead.

Once they had all gotten themselves together, they began leaving the common room in a jumbled mess. In her tipsy state, Y/N felt queasy as the moving stairs stopped in front of them.

“You alright?” Fred asked in a concerned tone, grabbing her waist to stabilize her. The murderous heels she had on also wasn’t doing her any favours in her state.

“Huh?” She asked, feeling slightly disoriented. She placed her hands over his and they both felt a jolt of energy as she did so.

“I asked if you were alright.” He said again, this time with a nervous little laugh.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Thanks.” She responded with a nervous laugh of her own.

“Good.” She couldn’t help but admire the crinkles in his outer eyelids as he smiled down at her. He then offered her his arm and she happily accepted, letting him walk her to the ballroom where the festivities had already begun.

“You look beautiful by the way.” He whispered into her ear. He didn’t know what persuaded him to say it, but it just had to be said. She blushed profusely at his words.

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” He laughed slightly, trying to cover up the butterflies he felt as she complimented him. Compliments only really mattered when they came from her, he decided.

“I feel like a proper arse but…thanks love.”

Both their stomachs were churning, and not just because of the fire whiskey.

Y/N was in complete awe as they came upon the large entrance of the great hall. It was adorned in white and silver and looked as though it had snowed for days on end.

A magical winter wonderland waiting for their arrival.

“Wow.” the group gasped in unison. Even with so many years of magic under their belts, things like this never failed to amaze them. And after what felt like hours of absentminded gawking, they all started to move down to the dance floor where other students were floating around the marble floor.

Y/N was so distracted that she hadn’t noticed Alicia come up behind her. With one swift motion, she grabbed Y/N’s hand from behind and twirled her around.

“May I have this dance?” She asked jokingly. Y/N threw her head back in laughter and then bowed, playing along.

“Of course ma lady.” The two girls then pulled each other into an embrace and moved along to the waltz, quite poorly at that.

This caught the attention of the twins who were off to the side with Angelina, spiking their goblets of pumpkin juice.

“They’re something else huh?” George mentions, trying to get his twins attention, for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“Yeah.” Fred replied blankly while he watched his best friend giggle and move around the dance floor with no care in the world.

Y/N wouldn’t stop moving until she felt as though her heart would beat out of her chest but once she needed to take a break she walked over to the twins and Angelina who were looking a little more drunk then before she left them to their own devices.

“Enjoying the pumpkin juice I see?” She jokes. The boys turned around and George reached a goblet out to her, offering her some of their own special version of liquid luck.

“Want some?” She caught a whiff as he placed it under her nose. It smelt putrid.

“I’ll pass thanks.” She replied with a grimace, jerking her head back from the disgusting concoction.

Then a slow song began to play. Some students groaned and moved away from the floor like the plague some students giggled and squealed as they went to dance with their dates.

George noticed Y/N look longingly out to the dance floor, who was secretly wishing she could go out there with someone.

“Fred,” George whispered as he nudged his twin.

“What?” Fred scowled in annoyance since the nudge had made him spill his drink slightly.

“Ask Y/N to dance.”

Fred frowned at this.

“Why?” George could almost smack his older twin upside the head for that comment. It was obvious that Fred had feelings for Y/N, and for him to act so oblivious was beginning to get somewhat tiresome for George.

“Because she needs a partner you idiot, now go!” He took Fred’s goblet and pushed him forward. Fred frowned back at him but all George did in return was encourage him further towards the waiting girl with waving hands.

Fred let out a sigh and moved his long hair out of his face, then tugging his dress robes down a bit and smoothing them out. All to calm his nerves, nerves he couldn’t explain.

He then tapped Y/N on the shoulder and she spun around to face him with a sweet look that had him weak in the knees.

“Yes Freddie?” She asked softly.

He cleared his throat slightly, trying to work up the courage to say something.

“Want to dance?” He asked, putting a shaky and sweaty hand out for her to take.

“Of course!” She beamed, pulling him away from the food table and towards the dance floor. Fred looked back to his twin with fear in his eyes to see him give a thumbs up in approval.

Fred had two left feet but the minute Y/N pulled him into an empty area and placed her hands on his shoulders all of that fear faded with every note that was played. The fear didn’t come from the worry of people laughing at him. He could care less. If his lack of dancing skills brought laughter to the school then so be it.

But he wanted to do dance well for her, let her have her perfect moment even though she wouldn’t care in the end.

He felt happy knowing she was enjoying herself and that he was the cause of it. They swayed for a bit before she leaned in and placed her head on his chest. It felt nice to know that she was comfortable enough to relax when with him, he thought to himself.

“Thanks for dancing with me.” She muttered into his chest. His cheeks felt warm and his stomach was causing a stir.

“Of course.” He was able to stammer out.

Then he noticed something. A small white plant was beginning to form above them. Following his gaze, Y/N looked up, noticing it as well.

“Mistletoe.” She whispered. His eyes moved at the words to look down at her.

“What does it mean?” He asked. He knew what it meant, but he wanted to hear her say it.

“It means that the people underneath it should kiss.” Her words were soft as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asked, hopeful for a yes.

“Okay.”

They stopped swaying and he leaned down to gently press his lips to hers. His eyes immediately fluttered shut at the contact and began to press deeper into the action.

She moaned lightly in return. Their lips moved together for a while before she pulled away to catch her breath. They both absentmindedly brought a hand up to their slightly swollen lips, trying to feel any last bit of the now lingering kiss.

They couldn’t speak, only able to look at one another in shock.

It felt so nice, and it scared them.

January 6th 1995

This was bad. Really bad.

Y/N had spent all her time since the Yule Ball thinking about that stupid kiss.

The way he made her feel, that wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to kiss and then laugh it off as though it was a passing joke like they always do. But this was no laughing matter. A multitude of thoughts swam around in her head and her hands clammed up everytime she found herself in the same room as him.

So she began to avoid him and all that she was able to communicate with now was quick nervous glances.

Best friends weren’t supposed to feel this way towards one another….right?

“What do you want, Weasley?” She yelledas she tried to speed walk further and further away from him down one of Hogwarts’s aged hall that flickered along the old stone wall structure. It was during dinner hours and Y/N had told Angelina she needed to grab a divination textbook from their room for an upcoming assignment.

Fred had decided to follow her.

“You haven’t talked to me in weeks Y/N! Can you at least tell me what I did?” She stopped abruptly and turned around, only to walk right into his soft chest. She hobbled back a bit and took a moment to catch her breath, all from the quick walking. Her E/C eyes caught his and were piercing right into his soul. His soft brown ones were filled to the brim with evident hurt and confusion. His freckled face looked so pained that it wouldn’t be wise to hold anything back anymore.

“Why did you have to kiss me?” She said through laboured breaths as she threw her hands to the sides of her body in frustration. Everything was finally coming to the surface.

“What?” Fred wasn’t following what so ever.

“At the Yule Ball, under the mistletoe.” He felt so lost. What had he done to upset her?

“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to kiss me.” He felt embarrassed and rejected. And by his best friend of all people.

“Everything is ruined now. No thanks to you!” She cried out, waving her arms in exasperation.

“What’s ruined? Do you not want to be my friend anymore? Is that what you are trying to say?” His voice got smaller and smaller with every word he spoke. He wished that she would just say she didn’t want to be friends anymore. Instead he secretly hoped that she would say she wanted something more than that. Fred was afraid though that he had gone and ruined everything.

All because of that wonderful, amazing, stupid kiss.

“This is all so confusing.”

“Why?” He cried out.

“Because,” She spoke simply, looking him straight in the face before charging towards him and pulling his neck down to place her lips against his. He was taken by surprise at first but quickly released every tinge of tenseness in his body, unconsciously letting out a small groan. She smiled against his lips in response.

The kiss was soft and meaningful. Several weeks of uncertainty and confusion dissipated with each motion of their tangling tongues.

“You just had to have me go and fall in love with you didn’t you?” She panted out, still clutching his Gryffindor tie tightly.

“You’re in love with me?” He asked with a proud smirk. She laughed sarcastically and rolled her eyes before pulling him down again for another deep kiss.

“God dammit Weasley. You’ve really done it this time.” She muttered against his welcoming lips.

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Kiss the Girl (Part 4)

~Series Master~

Word Count: 2.7K

~Master~

A/N: Alright, sorry you had to wait forever for this part! Part 5 will be the last, hopefully I’ll post it soon (I appreciate your patience, my loves). I’m not sure how I feel about this chapter... I listened to suggestions you guys made, so hopefully this wasn’t a flop! Please like, comment, reblog, and leave feedback?

Previously...

“You’re in love with her.” George’s conclusion ran out of his mouth before he could stop it and he wished Fred would deny it, but Fred couldn’t. It was the truth.

“As are you.”

They both fell silent, not even looking at each other in complete shock and betrayal. “Seems we’ve got a problem on our hands, Fred.” Suddenly, the twins who always seemed to be on each other’s side were split right down the middle. They were both in love with you, and yet neither could do anything. Fred knew George owned your heart and George knew he was the one who broke it.

“Seems we do, George. Seems we do.”

“Y/N, wake up you’re going to be late.” Angelina tried waking you up the next morning, pulling the blanket down from your face as you groaned and pulled it right back up.

“Shove off, Angie. I need sleep.” You mumbled, hiding your face from the sun as Angelina sighed, putting her hands on her hips.

“What’s wrong? You’re more difficult this morning than usual.” She laughed at her joke, expecting a chuckle from you but she was just given silence.

You couldn’t tell her the truth, that you just told her boyfriend that you had feelings for him last night, so instead you lied. “I’m just not feeling well.” She furrowed her brows but didn’t fight you, instead pulling your curtains closed.

“Let know if I can help with anything.” She said and you nodded, avoiding looking at her as she followed the rest of your roommates out, everyone heading off to their first class. You just laid there, letting your emotions become numb inside as you stared off.

Tensions between Fred and George had been high since last night. Neither of them had said another to each other except a simple “morning”. While Fred had never been angrier at George, he knew that he couldn’t cut his brother off. They would have to figure this all out somehow, and ignoring each other wasn’t the correct option.

Their friends quickly noticed the change in the brother’s actions, the looks they sent each other from across the table and the silence that very uncommon for them. After Fred and George silently fought over the pitcher of juice in front of them, Lee couldn’t take it anymore.

He snatched the pitcher away from them, receiving sounds of complaints from both twins before Lee put a hand up. “Alright enough you two! What is going on with you both? You’re acting more bloody insane than usual.”

“Nothing, Lee.” George mumbled to his concerned friend as he glared daggers at Fred. “Stay out of it.”

“It’s about Y/N, isn’t it?” Lee asked, putting the pitcher down with a sigh.

The twins stopped their stare off, instead looking at Lee with confusion.

“How’d you know?”

Lee smirked but it slowly fell off his face as he realized he was right about his friends fighting. “You mean besides that little show you both put on in the common room before heading to your room?” He began, making Fred and George look at each other quickly before back to Lee, waiting for him to continue. “It was obvious. So, what’s the problem?”

“Freddie here is in love with her.” George spit out right away, making Fred clench his jaw and Lee shrug.

“And?”

“And so is George.” Fred finished and Lee’s eyes widened.

“Really?” Lee asked, stretching the word as he let out a small huff of amusement. “Huh.”

George, slightly offended by Lee’s reaction, furrowed his brows. “What’s huh?”

“Oh nothing.” Lee quickly said, digging into his food in hopes the twins would drop it, but of course, they didn’t.

“No spill it, Lee. What’s huh?”

Lee sighed, clasping his hands in front of his face before taking a deep breath. “It’s just- it was painfully obvious Fred was.” Lee said and neither twin knew what to say. Lee gestured to George, avoiding looking at either of them. “But you? I guess I could see it.”

“You didn’t see it?” George asked, his words quiet from his confusion. He always thought it was clear he’s had feelings for you lately.

“George, I didn’t even see it. And I’m your brother.” Fred said, his voice just as confused.

Lee, seeing both of the brothers slowly open back up to each other, let out a breath of relief that he didn’t make things worse. “So what? It becomes a competition? ‘Who can win the fair maiden’s hand?’” He joked, testing the waters.

After a moment of silence, Fred spoke up. “No.��

“Wait, what?”

He looked to his brother with a sad smile. “Come on George, this isn’t a competition. It’s Y/N. You already broke her heart once, we can’t both do it.” George didn’t say anything. He knew Fred was right. It wasn’t a competition, competitions end with someone getting hurt. And they both knew that person couldn’t be you.

Fred stuck his hand out to George, who stared at it, letting out a laugh before taking Fred’s hand in a handshake.

“Blimey, you two are idiots.” Lee mumbled under his breath with a fond smile as Fred and George smirked, picking up some grapes in front of them and tossing them at Lee who couldn’t dodge them fast enough.

They three of them were still fighting with grapes when Angelina came in. She took the seat next to George, they smiled at each other and Fred was thankful for once they weren’t kissing. He looked to the entrance, not seeing you anywhere as George caught on, both figuring you decided to stay in bed. Fred took a deep breath, chewing on the inside of his lip as he ate his food.

Angelina and George begun a conversation but Fred barely listened, in his defense all he could think about was you staying in your room probably crying again. “Is Y/N coming down?” George asked Angelina after seeing his brother starting to stare too long at the entrance of the Great Hall.

“She wasn’t feeling good, decided it was best to stay in bed.” She shrugged and locked her arm around George’s. He didn’t pull his arm away, instead locking eyes with Fred. He could see Fred’s worry in his eyes and he too was worried, but he knows he was the last person you’d want to see. He nodded towards to the door, giving Fred the go ahead to check on you, and Fred hadn’t left his seat faster. He was thankful for his brothers understanding as he made his way up to your room, passing the charm on the stairs before he was opening your door.

When you heard the door open, followed by a sigh, you figured Angelina had come back to check on you. “Angie, I told you, I just want to-“ you cut yourself off when you sat up, seeing Fred standing in the doorway. “Oh. Sorry, I thought you were Angelina.”

“I figured.” Fred chuckled under his breath as he approached your bed. “Angelina said you weren’t feeling good.” He raised his brows and you bit your lip.

“I just didn’t want to see him.” You admitted, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on top. Fred nodded, understanding completely. He pulled back the blankets on your bed as you scooted over, making room for him to lay down as you sat next to him. “I was stupid last night, telling him all that.” You played with your fingers, refusing to look at Fred.

Fred however was watching you carefully, seeing the bags under your eyes as you tried to push your feelings down. “Hey,” he said, grabbing a hold of your hand to get you to look at him. “You weren’t stupid. George was stupid.”

“How?” you choked out, trying to keep your voice low. “He didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly.” Fred mumbled under his breath, not aware of how he was mindlessly playing your fingers right now, making a skip in your chest you weren’t prepared for.

“What uh,” you shook your head from the thoughts that just invade it as you met Fred’s eyes again. “What do you mean by that?” you whispered waiting for Fred to clarify.

He swallowed thickly, his eyes flickering down to your hands before he realized he was still holding them. He tried to pull his away without you noticing the loss, but you noticed right away, adjusting to hold his hand to keep him there. Fred, feeling warmth spread from your touch, tightened his hold, letting out a shaky breath he tried masking by talking. “Nothing. I didn’t mean-“

“Freddie, don’t lie to me. What do you know?” you interrupted him and Fred gave you a half smile, chuckling as he squeezed your hand.

“You always saw right though me.”

“You were never able to lie to me.”

“You’re right.” He said before falling silent, unable to bring his eyes to yours. “I know how you’re feeling right now Y/N, and I know you don’t want to, but you should to hear him out.” Fred’s stomach dropped as he spoke, possibly handing you right over to his brother. Of course, he didn’t want that, he wanted you, but he knew you couldn’t feel that way to him. You liked George. You weren’t shocked by Fred’s words, you figured he’d try and stand up for George. They were brothers before anything. “You don’t have to. The choice is yours.” He said after seeing you stare off for a little too long.

You nodded, running a hand over your face and taking a moment to think it over. Fred had a point, George never really got a chance to say his side, but what was there? “Okay. I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.” Fred said immediately, a frown sitting on his face. You both fell silent, the topic bringing you both down before Fred knew exactly how to cheer you up: telling you about his latest prank on some Ravenclaws.

Fred stayed with you for a little while, trying to distract you from your thoughts and for the most part it worked, he made your day better without even trying. By the time all the classes had ended, you realized Fred didn’t go to any of them and chose to stay with you instead. You were just beginning another conversation before there was a knock on your door. You figured it was one of your roommates, hearing a conversation and politely knocking instead of interrupting.

“You can come in!” you said laughing from something Fred said. When the door opened, the last person you expected walked in. “George.” Your laughs were no longer there, instead you frowned as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hey.” He said looking between you and Fred. You didn’t say anything, unsure of what to say. Fred was right, you needed to hear him out. You looked to Fred, giving him a nod as he squeezed your hand before getting up. Fred stopped in front of his brother, neither of them saying anything before Fred moved past him, giving George a pat on the back. As George moved to the bed, you found yourself watching Fred leave, quickly pulling your eyes away when he turned back to look, letting his eyes linger a little too long on you before you were left alone with George.

George, who tried to come up with a plan on what to say, fell silent now that he was in front of you. “I’m sorry about last night.” You said, breaking the silence. George’s eyes widened as he shifted on the bed. “I shouldn’t have dumped all that onto you like that, it wasn’t fair.”

“You don’t,” George stopped himself, clearing his throat, “You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“I do.” You blurted out and licked your lips, trying to keep from looking directly at him. “You’re my friend, George. That’s all and it was wrong of me to say anything when you’re dating Angelina.”

“I have something to tell you.” George sounded nervous as you furrowed your brows, turning to look at him completely as you motioned for him to continue. So, he did. He told you everything, everything he told Fred ever since the day he tried to ask you to the yule ball down to the whole conversation with Fred. The only thing he left out? Fred’s feelings. He wasn’t concerned that you’d choose Fred over him, but he didn’t want you to learn Fred’s secret this way. You had stayed quiet through George’s whole story, a look on your face George wasn’t able to read as he finished, letting the silence fill the air before he said one last thing. “I’m in love with you.”

“No.” You cut him off right away, your once blank face soon turning shocked with yourself as George’s face fell. “No, you aren’t. Georgie.” You were finally figuring it out. “If you were in love with me you wouldn’t have brought Angelina to the dance. Even if you did, you wouldn’t have kissed her afterwards, or dated her.” George wanted to object and remind you that he wanted to ask you, but you grabbed his hand, giving him a smile and stopping him before he could. “You might’ve liked me and at one point you might’ve had feelings for me, but you’re not in love with me.”

George didn’t know what to say. What was there to say?

You chuckled, looking down to your intertwined hands and waited for that familiar flutter you always felt when he touched, but it didn’t come. Not like it had with-

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” George admitted.

Your mouth slowly twitched to a smile, taking a deep breath. “You’re my friend Georgie and I think that’s all you ever were.” You weren’t sure whether these words for you or him. “My crush that should’ve just stayed a crush.” His eyes darted between yours, trying to find some hint on what he could say. You were growing impressed with your own revelations. Your heart hurt, it really did, but at the same time, hearing George tell you all about how he believed to be in love with you made you realize, maybe love wasn’t exactly what you felt for him. “Can I ask you something?” He nodded. “After asking out Angelina, and spending time with her, do you have feelings for her?”

Taken back by your question, George began sputtering out words. “Y/N, I- We… she-“

“Be honest with me.” you put a hand on George’s knee, softening your eyes in hopes he hears you out. “I’m not going to be mad I promise.”

“I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, unsure of how he could possibly be feeling. You were right. He had been developing feelings for Angelina, she was his girlfriend and the more he spent time with her, he felt something. Whether it was something similar or entirely different than what he felt for you, he didn’t know.

“You were just friends when you asked her to the ball- when you were planning on asking me- but you’ve been spending more time with her, gotten closer, had…” you slowly started trailing off, finding a few similarities in their relationship and one of your own, “…conversations.” You shook your head, focusing back onto George. “You’re dating her! Don’t sit here and tell me you don’t feel anything for her, even a little.” Your voice was softer as George stayed silent. You weren’t wrong. The feelings he had for Angelina were developing, they were there, but calling them the same feelings he had for you was wrong. “You’re my best friend George.”

“And you’re mine.” He told you back, feeling tears prickle his eyes. They weren’t tears of heartbreak or sadness, more of acceptance. He knew what this meant, and he was okay with it.

You were okay with it.

You pulled George into a hug, letting tears roll down your face as you felt George wrap his arms around you tightly, burying his head in your neck. “I’m really sorry for everything, Y/N.” George said as you pulled away, wiping the tears off your face and taking a deep breath.

“Me too, George.” You breathed out, letting yourself calm down. “Wow, I can’t believe-“

“-that we’re both stupid?” George finished for you, wiping some tears from his own eyes.

“The stupidest.” You laughed, looking at him with a smile.

“So, what now?” To answer George’s question, you didn’t know. What was next?

You stayed quiet, looking at George before letting your eyes glance down to your hands and the memory of that feeling from earlier resurfaced. “I don’t know.”

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[papermoonish]

when the weather changed

"Wait for me!"

"Shit, it was so nice out at lunch," Kirishima whines, stopping in the doorway.

"That’s fucking autumn for you."

"Don’t curse a whole season, you'll get unlucky."

autumn brings weather changes and simple sweetness. for kirishima and bakugou it comes first in the shape of friends and then each other

read on AO3 or keep reading here

Kiri is on the roof of the school building. There are mesh fences keeping the small spot up in the air secluded - safe. He's sitting on the floor, his back to the wall hiding the staircase, eyes closed and head leaning against the concrete.

The air tastes like crisp autumn, fresh and cold with the promise of warmth tingling. Maybe tomorrow, maybe later. The door opens and Kirishima straightens up, opens his eyes and reaches for his water bottle. With two quick movements he looks busy. Nothing weird going on here.

"Hey man," he smiles, and Denki waves back.

"Yo dude. I was looking everywhere for you."

Denki drops besides him, loose and easy. His shoulder brushes Kirishima's as he’s reaching for the food in Kiri's lap, stealing a small piece of pre-cut sausage. He's warm, body slumping against his friend with a content sigh.

"Ah sorry! What's up?”

Denki pops his lips, pulls up his phone and scans the screen quickly before tapping away on it. He's sitting cross-legged, his knee occasionally bumping against Kiri's thigh. He steals another piece of sausage and chews it a little too loudly but it’s okay. Kirishima appreciates the company.

"Didn’t see you at lunch and thought you might've run away with a hot girl into a future unknown.”

Kirishima snorts and shakes his head, red hair doesn’t move an inch. Next to him Denki cracks his knuckles, but only the ones on his left hand.

"In the middle of a Monday?”

"Who am I to question the timely manners of love, bro."

"Bro."

"Bro."

They laugh and the wind picks up a bit, messing up Denki's hair. As he tries to fix it he lets out a loud groan. Kiri reaches up to tuck a few strands back with the others.

"Nah dude, I'd never leave you behind."

"You better won’t. Blasty would have my ass if he heard you got away and I knew."

There’s an implication between the words, simmering right in the space left after them. Kirishima blinks and shakes it off, smiles until the dimple on his right cheek shows up.

"He has your ass for everything. He owns it."

"HE DOES NOT OWN MY ASS!"

Kiri giggles, downs the rest of his water and rubs his nose. The movement causes Denki to sway a bit, still leaning on his friend. He catches himself and sits up, wiggling his eyebrows.

"That's gay," he snickers.

"Denki-"

"No Ei,” he raises his hands in defeat, pouting, “I simply do not wanna think about Bakugou in a sexual way."

"That’s not even close to what I said."

"It was IMPLIED!"

"IT WASN’T!"

They’re shoving at each other now, laughing and the water bottle drops, rolls away across the deck. The rest of Kirishima's lunch nearly falls too, but just at the last second he remembers and puts it aside. Seeing an opening, Denki throws himself at Kirishima and they both topple over. Denki is snorting, Kiri is chuckling. The sun shines.

"EW, DUDE!"

The wet stripe Denki licked across Kirishima's palm glistens in the autumn weather and Kiri is fast to wipe it at Denki's dress shirt.

"You're so gross."

"Excuse me? You have a crush on Bakugou, that's nasty!"

"Ughh,” Kirishima hides his face in his hands, “don’t bring that up."

"You can't censor me, this is a free country."

Their laughter fades at the same time as the sunshine, covered by a few thin clouds moving across the blue. Lunch is coming to an end and Kiri hears Denki's bones pop from stretching his hands. A rumble in the sky makes a few birds fly up and the boys look up.

"I- … uh-"

Denki rolls onto his side and makes a whole show of getting up, like standing is a dance he owns. He cracks his neck and Kirishima cringes at the sound, worrying his lip.

"I won’t tell him. Drop the pout, lovebird."

He reaches out a hand and Kiri grabs it quickly, and then he gets pulled up from the floor with the sun reappearing. Warmth immediately spreads across their skin.

"Thanks, man.”

Denki waves his hand, grins mischievously.

"Bro, you've got so much more dirt on me. This is self-protection.”

"Bro I’d never tell any of them anything."

"I know, I know. You’re just good like that,” he laughs. "One day either Shinso, Jirou, Sero or Tetsu will notice me. I'm not giving up yet."

"You're helpless," Kirishima shoos away a mosquito. “You should pick one of them to work your charm on.”

"I’d go for you, but your little monkey brain is already wired in the wrong direction, babe."

Kiri fake gags and Denki shoves him, hard. They gather their stuff - meaning Kirishima grabs all his things and Denki starts breakdancing next to him. Denki opens the door and bows, giving him the, "After you, good sir." and Kiri bows right back with a, "Oh my, thank you darling."

The door falls into its lock and clicks shut. A gust of wind picks up and moves the water bottle Kirishima forgot on the deck. It clatters against the mesh fence and rolls a few feet across the floor. It’ll be found later by someone else, surely. Not everyone has a bright red metal bottle with multiple stickers of pictures of his friends. They get back to class and the sun still shines.

* at the same time *

The cafeteria is too loud. There's laughter and screaming, talking, shuffling, things dropping and people running. For Bakugou the cafeteria hurts, it rings all the way through his ears to the bottom of his brain and he furrows his brows while poking chopsticks into rice.

"You want a spoon for the rice soup you’re making there?"

Bakugou flinches, knuckles turning white before the colour slowly creeps back, blood flow released.

"Watch your mouth," he barks into the direction of the person sitting across the table.

"Can’t, I'm eating. You should try it, it’s supposed to be good for you."

"I fucking know, Tapeface. What’s your issue?”

Sero grins before digging back into his chicken, his legs long under the table right under the window. His feet knock against Bakugou's ankles. Neither of them moves.

"What's yours? You're usually not that grumpy at lunch."

Bakugou looks at him for a few seconds, like he's considering, waging something in his head.

"'s loud here," he finally settles on.

"Oh."

Sero blinks, then he grabs his backpack and tray and Bakugou flinches again at the speed of it.

"What are you-"

"Come on big guy, grab your stuff."

"Huh?"

"There's tables outside, next to the gym building."

Oh. That’s right.

When they settle again Bakugou's forehead is still crinkled and Sero pokes him, index finger smudging against his skin. The wrinkles smooth out a bit. Sero puts his phone on the table, screen up. Bakugou can see the small notification LED blinking yellow.

"Ya still look grumpy."

Bakugou shrugs, finally eats his rice like a normal person. Sero hums, low and deep, then rustles inside of his bag and pulls out a juice pouch. There's a drop spilling when he puts the straw in a little too forcefully and Bakugou hands him a napkin.

"I have a goddamn headache."

"Ah."

The wind picks up and the sun vanishes behind thin clouds. The building casts enough shade to cover them and their table fully now and it’s a little colder.

"Maybe Ei can do his magic hands thing later. Doesn't he help sometimes?"

Bakugou shrugs but he averts his eyes, dipping his rice into sauce before shoving it into his mouth. He knows Sero can see through it but he also knows Sero is gentle. He hums again and Bakugou breathes.

"Yeah.”

Sero finishes his food and sips his juice, offering it to Bakugou but obviously being declined. He just shrugs.

"Denki texted me he's on the roof if ya wanna go up and ask."

Bakugou shakes his head, puts the lid back onto his bento box. He catches the way Sero checks at his phone, types away an answer to a message that made him smile.

"Lunch is over in a few anyway."

"You have some rice on your shirt."

"Ah shit."

The sun comes back out and Sero's phone chimes. He glances at it and sighs, swiping the little alarm notification away.

"Back to class then, wonder kid."

"You're on thin fucking ice, Hanta."

"Aw with the first name? You make me blush today."

"Bitch."

"No need to sweet talk me after you had a lunch date with me."

"Oh my fucking god I despise you."

He grabs his bag and then puts the trash from Sero's tray on his own, sliding them together. He carries both. Sero holds the door open for him and Bakugou grunts a thank you. The wind starts howling and the cafeteria is still filled with laughter when they enter.

*later*

The school day ends and the sky is grey. There are dark speckles between heavy clouds and the light turned a muddy yellow. The sun isn't visible and you can’t feel it either, all the warmth traveled further away into other days, future hours. Bakugou's kicking the door to the sky deck open with his foot, the sole squeaking against the heavy metal.

"Fucking bullshit."

There’s a rumble and then rain hits his face and there's a giggle right behind him, echoing in the halls of the stairway.

"Wait for me!"

Bakugou keeps the door open with a snarl.

"Shit, it was so nice out at lunch," Kirishima whines, stopping in the doorway.

"That’s fucking autumn for you."

"Don’t curse a whole season, you'll get unlucky."

Bakugou looks at him, getting soaked more every second, hair slowly plastering itself against his forehead. Water gets caught in his lashes and drips into his shoes. His socks get wet. He blinks once and Kiri rubs his blushing neck, laughing.

"Yeah," his lip pulls upwards, "wouldn't fucking want that, hah?"

Kirishima bolts out into the rain, Bakugou looks after him before following. There are small puddles on the floor and Kiri steps into them intentionally, grinning as he notices his boots are waterproof enough for his shenanigans.

"All right, where are you? Come out, come out wherever you are," Kirishima sing-songs.

"You're so stupid."

"Shhhh maybe it's hiding from us."

"Your water bottle?"

Kiri nods. “Maybe it feels your negative vibes, bro."

"Maybe I’ll make you feel a negative vibe in a second, bro."

It’s an empty threat and Kirishima laughs.

He keeps running and the sky doesn't split open to let light through. Bakugou licks his lips, rainwater on his tongue, and walks towards the fence to the south side. It’s like Kirishima forgot where he sat with the way he's buzzing through the rain, arms spread and face tilted towards the sky.

Bakugou spots his bottle immediately, picks it up with his pinky hooking through the loop on the cap. He inspects the stickers and none of them are peeling. When he turns, Kiri is standing still, looking up at the falling rain, hair bending and bowing under the weather.

"You done with your moment?" Bakugou yells over the noise.

"It’s so nice."

"The rain?"

"Hmh."

Bakugou comes up next to him, holds up the bottle but Kirishima’s eyes are closed. So he bumps the cold metal against the exposed skin under Kirishima’s rolled up sleeves.

"Got the goods."

"Ah! thank you, Blasty."

"You'll never drop that name huh?"

Kiri shrugs and Bakugou watches his shoulders move.

"It’s a good name."

"It’s old as shit. Come up with something better."

"Stop exploding into our faces then," Kirishima turns his head and grins.

"Never."

"That’s what I thought."

Kiri's quiet until Bakugou pulls up his nose. The sky keeps making noises that hint ever so closely at a thunderstorm coming.

"Ah shit, okay let's go back inside. You're soaked!"

"Duh."

"Thanks for coming to look with me though."

They both know Kirishima would’ve found his bottle on his own. They don’t address it though and somehow the knowledge settles between them in the form of physical contact. Bakugou simply accepts the wet arm that’s thrown over his shoulder, it soothes the tension built up in his muscles.

"You can thank me by doing your hand thing."

Kirishima’s head snaps towards him, eyes big and round. There are water droplets in his eyebrows.

"You have another headache? Man, why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Kiri grabs his bottle from Bakugou, their fingers touch. Kiri smiles and walks towards the door. His hand reaches for the handle and it creaks under the movement.

"School," Bakugou says, voice calm while he shrugs.

"Let’s get dry and then I can come over? Whatcha say?"

Bakugou nods, brushes past Kirishima holding the door open. The arm that was around his shoulder slides off and it’s immediately cold where it lay. It’s now freezing in the hallway, especially dripping wet.

"D’you think Sero has a crush on Denki?"

Bakugou huffs, towel rubbing over his ears. They’re in the baths, air warm from their recent shower. The mirror Bakugou stands in front of is fogged up and Kirishima reaches over, hand smearing across the glass until his image is visible.

"I don’t care."

"Come on, gossip with me," Kirishima pokes his finger into Bakugou’s shoulder and the blond doesn’t even turn to look.

"No."

"But you always have the best takes."

"Shut up."

"Katsukiii please."

The towel drops. The sky breaks open and a few late sunbeams work their way through the clouds, illuminating UA in the softest glow. The boys are inside though, the warm bathroom shielding them from the outside, they can’t see.

But Bakugou looks at Kirishima and he simply knows, knows the grey is making space for evening blues and purples, knows the muddy yellow will turn into clear orange.

"I won’t spill Tapeface's secrets."

"Not even to me?" The puppy eyes get ignored.

"Especially not to you, you can't keep your big mouth shut ever!"

"That’s not true! I never spill secrets."

Bakugou unlocks his dorm room door and watches Kiri walk in before him. Bakugou smells his shampoo, it’s a mix of something woody and sweet.

"You're spilling right now."

"Yeah but to you, that’s different."

He sits down in the desk chair, swiveling around a bit. Digging the heels of his feet into the beige carpet. He’s barefoot in Bakugou’s room and it feels intimate. Bakugou snaps a laugh, it’s dry. Kirishima perks up at it.

"It’s not different, you’re making shit up."

"Uh yeah? I like sharing with you?"

"You like talking to everyone."

He drops himself on the floor, back pressed to Kiri's shins and tipping his head back over the redhead’s knees. It’s a bit uncomfortable but it gives Bakugou enough control over the situation. Not that he’d need it here. Kiri's hands gently weave themselves through towel dried blond hair, fingertips pressing against his scalp.

"I like talking to you most though," he says simply.

"Ew."

Kirishima laughs, Bakugou closes his eyes. He lets Kiri work his fingers through his hair, lets his nails scrape and scratch in all the right places and with every minute passing by he feels the headache less and less.

They're quiet for a bit and then he goes, "Hanta's whipped as fuck."

"I KNEW it!"

The ceiling light bathes them in warm white and the sky outside is hidden behind curtains.

[tellmealovestory]

Something More (2/?)

Summary: After a bad breakup you ask your best friend to take your virginity. It’s just friends with benefits. What could possibly go wrong?

Notes: Also posted on my ao3.

Warnings: slight angst

Series Masterlist

A quiet groan spilled from your lips as you buried your head further into the pillow. It was too early. You wanted nothing more to go back to sleep, but a crash from somewhere in the apartment followed by what sounded like the words damnit had you cracking your eyes open as another groan escaped. 

Rolling onto your back you rubbed the sleep from your heavy eyes as you blinked your surroundings into focus. For just a moment fear wracked your body as you realized this wasn't your bed and this definitely wasn't your room. 

Sitting up with a start you relaxed as the night before came back to you in bits and pieces. Oh. Right. Part of you had hoped last night had been a dream. Or the cause from too much alcohol. Your eyes drifted to the empty half of the bed where Bucky had been last night. 

Sighing you swung your feet over the side of his bed. You were going to have to face him sooner or later and you couldn't deny whatever he was making smelled good.

"Expecting company?" You asked as you entered the kitchen. Your eyes swept over the piles of food he had plated sitting on the counter and the small kitchen table. Plates of bacon, toast, eggs, pancakes, a bowl of fruit, orange juice and coffee littered the room. There was no way either of you could eat all that and for a moment you froze hoping he wasn't expecting more people. As much as you didn't want to you guys still had things to talk about.

"Mornin', sweetheart," he replied. 

Pouring a cup of coffee and adding a generous helping of milk he placed the mug on the counter closest to you. 

"You didn't eat much last night. Thought you might be hungry." He said it as if the large quantity of food was obvious. Grabbing a plate Bucky filled it high with a little of bit of everything placing the plate next to the coffee. Preparing another plate he sat down digging in to his food. Well at least one of you were hungry.

"Thanks," you murmured. Picking up your mug you blew on the steam before taking a large drink. The hot liquid warmed you from inside out and you appreciated the caffeine. Feeling a little more awake you started to eat.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked in between large bites of food.

"Good. It was the first time I think I've slept the whole night through after... everything that happened." You weren't sure if it was because you had finally opened up about your ex and your heartbreak or if it had something to do with Bucky holding you and keeping you close, but the sleep you got had been wonderful. "What about you?"

"Good," he lied. The truth was he hadn't slept at all. 

After all the drama that had taken place his first and only concern had been you and once you had drifted off to sleep he had been worried about you waking up so he did the only logical thing he knew to do, stay up and watch over you. And that was exactly what he had done opting to spend the whole night holding you and making sure you were okay. It wasn't until a few hours after the sun had started to rise that he left your side and only then so he could make you something to eat.

Nodding your head you let the silence wash over you as you picked at your food. Small talk never bothered you before, but this whole conversation was frustrating. After last night there was so much left unsaid and you were struggling on how to bring it up. 

What if he wanted to ignore it and pretend nothing had happened? What if he was waiting for you to bring it up first? What if he wanted to be the first to bring it up? Once again the what ifs were driving you insane.

"So... um about last night," you started, your voice hesitant and your words coming out slow as you kept your gaze locked on your plate. There was no way you could have this conversation looking at him. "I'm sorry. For ruining movie night, but also for yelling at you."

Bucky chuckled, the sound causing your eyes to dart up from your plate to meet his in confusion. You hadn't thought you had said anything that was funny. You had been trying to apologize and here he was sitting across from you laughing! 

Blame it on the first night of good sleep or the infectious melody being able to lift you up even out of your worst mood you soon joined in finding yourself laughing right along with him. In a way it was refreshing to know that no matter how stressful and confusing last night had been nothing had changed between you two. 

"What are you laughing at?" You asked, the laughter causing a few tears to slip down your cheeks and oh how good it felt to have tears falling from your eyes from laughter instead of from dumb ex boyfriends breaking your heart.

"You," he said.

"My apology was that funny, huh?"

"Nah. You just don't need to apologize. You're under a lot of stress. 'Sides I'm a lot tougher than I look. You gotta do more than tell me you hate me to upset me," he teased, shooting you a playful wink as he got up taking his plate with him.

Watching him you bit your lower lip as memories of the previous night flooded your mind. You vaguely remembered telling him you hated him... along with trying to hit him when he tried to comfort you. And then of course there were the memories of you asking him to sleep with you and your make out which neither of you had brought up yet. 

"Oh, really? And what would someone have to do to upset you?" 

Thinking about it for a moment Bucky grabbed a piece of bacon biting it in half before answering. "Someone not eating their breakfast. Now eat."

Rolling your eyes you started to eat your pancakes. You weren't hungry, but he had gone to the trouble of making you breakfast and you felt the least you could do was attempt to eat something. "Happy?" You asked when your plate was half empty.

"Least you ate more than last night," he murmured, clearing your plate away.

This was it. The opening you were searching for to talk about last night. It was now or never. The air wasn't as thick between you two with tension as it had been, but it was clear there were still things left unsaid. You guys were best friends who had never had any trouble talking about difficult things, but that had seemed to change last night. 

Taking a deep breath and searching for your courage you found yourself blurting out, "Bucky I meant what said last night. I want you to sleep with me." 

The words were out there in the open and even if you had been able to take them back you weren't sure you would have. 

"Y/N," he started, frustration evident in his voice. He wouldn't look at you as he busied himself with cleaning up the kitchen. 

"Told you last night I'm not takin' advantage of you like that." Bucky had been so sure that after last night, after the make out, after the tear stained fight, after you got some sleep you would have moved on and forgot about this. He should have known better. And while he was so fucking tempted to give in and say yes he would sleep with you he knew he couldn't do that. 

"You wouldn't be taking advantage of me. I want this, Bucky." Came your soft reply. When he didn't say anything after a few minutes, when he still refused to even look in your direction you sighed in frustration not understanding why he was acting like this. It was just sex. What was the big deal? 

"No you don't. You only think this is what you want. You're upset cause he broke up with you, but once you do this, honey you can't take it back." Bucky didn't have to look at you to know that much like last night you were growing angry with him, but he was trying to protect you. Why couldn't you see that?

"Yeah, Bucky, I know how virginity works," you shot back, tone angry. You wanted to apologize, but the longer this conversation went on the more upset you were getting. Hadn't you guys argued about this last night? 

"And that's kind of the point. I'm tired of being a virgin. If you don't want to sleep with me just tell me so Natasha can find me someone who will." 

"What?" Bucky asked, turning around to look at you, the first time he had done so since you brought this up. His mind was reeling with what you said. Clenching his jaw he breathed deeply willing himself to calm down. Growing angry and yelling wasn't going to fix anything between you two, but he was finding it difficult to comprehend why the hell you and Natasha thought you sleeping with a stranger was a good idea. 

"You talked about this with Natasha?" He asked, struggling to keep his voice even as he gripped the edge of the counter, his blue grey eyes darkening as he stared you down.

"Yeah...?" Came your confused response. You didn't understand why he was so surprised by that idea. Aside from him she was your best friend and roommate. 

"I mean I didn't tell her about... asking you, but a couple days after the breakup she mentioned that if I was positive about losing my virginity she could find me someone." Your tone was nonchalant, but you felt anything but. 

Squirming in your seat you were beginning to feel uncomfortable with Bucky's intense staring. Still refusing to look at him you shrugged your shoulder as if the idea of losing your virginity to a stranger wasn't panic inducing. You had gone along with the idea, but the more you thought about it the more it terrified you. You wanted your first time to be with someone you knew and trusted, not a stranger, but it looked as if you were going to lose it to a stranger. After all Bucky didn't seem to be on board. 

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he muttered under his breath. Letting go of the counter he moved back to the kitchen chair sitting down across from you. "You're not sleeping with a guy you don't fucking know."

"You also don't get to dictate who I can and can't sleep with, Bucky," you snapped. 

You would never understand the fascination people had with what a woman chose to do with her body or who she chose to do things with. Crossing your arms over your chest you lifted your eyes to meet his. Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity reflected back in Bucky's eyes. Feeling heat rise to your cheeks you swallowed as memories of your make out last night flashed through your mind.

"I'm not telling you who you can and can't sleep with, but a stranger? No. Your first time is not going to be with someone that Natasha finds."

"Really? Because it sounds like you are telling me what to do. God, Bucky you really think that's what I want? My first time to be with a stranger?"

Bucky was smart enough not to answer that question. "Don't you want your first time to be special? With someone you love? And you're dating?" He asked instead, voice soft. You were special and you deserved to have your first time be special and memorable for all the right reasons.

Snorting you rolled your eyes. "No. As long as I'm with someone I know and trust it'll be special. Which... which is why I asked you to sleep with me. A-After I got dumped the only two guys that I trust enough and know are you and Steve. And I don't think Steve would have been comfortable with me asking him seeing as how he's dating Peggy. Which... left only you. And... I don't know. It was stupid to ask you I realize that now. I just... I just thought maybe you'd say yes, but I get it why you're saying no and I don't want to pressure you so... I mean at least I have Natasha to find me someone."

Letting your words sink in he didn't say anything for a couple of minutes. After all it was a lot to unpack and unload. Was he flattered that you had come to him first? Yeah, it boosted his ego he wasn't going to lie about that. But the thought of Steve being your first much like a stranger made his blood boil. What the hell had Natasha been thinking? Making a mental note to talk to her later he sighed struggling to figure out where to go from here. You were determined to lose your virginity and after last night he now knew there was nothing he could say or do to make you change your mind. So he had two options. Let your first time to be with a stranger or be with him. Neither option was a good idea.

"Your first time shouldn't be with a stranger, Y/N," he tried again.

"Then sleep with me, Bucky. We're best friends. There's nobody I trust more and it's just sex. Please?" You hated how whiny you were sounding, but you could almost feel him getting ready to say yes. Reaching across the table for his hands you gave them a gentle squeeze as you lowered your voice, "You said it yourself. My first time shouldn't be with a stranger. It should be with you."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was so close to saying yes and he knew you knew that. Knew by the way you gently squeezed his hands, by the way your voice got softer, breathier. He closed his eyes remembering you last night underneath him gasping his name and all you had done was kiss. This was wrong. So, so wrong, but he wanted this. So, so much.

Sighing be pulled his hands back as he got up and moved back to the sink. A hand ran through his hair messing it up. He needed space away from you, away from your touch because he swore to god if you touched him again he was going to say yes.

"We can't, Y/N."

"Why not? Give me one reason why."

"Sex changes things. We're best friends and I don't want that to change."

"It's not going to change anything. We've been best friends for how many years, Bucky? And how many things have we gone through together? And it never changed anything between us it only made us stronger."

"Friends with benefits doesn't work. Somebody always gets hurts."

"You weren't worried about that last night when you dragged me into your room to make out with me."

"Dragged you? You followed, sweetheartl, willingly. And if I remember correctly you seemed to enjoy it. A lot," he shot back, enjoying the way you shifted in your seat.

"That's... that's not the point!" You sputtered, struggling to get the conversation back on topic.

Sighing you chewed on your lower lip as you got up and stood in front of him. You weren't about to admit it, but he might have had a point. Not that you would know from personal experience, but you had seen your friends relationships change when sex was added to a relationship. You didn't want your friendship with Bucky to change, but you really believed it wouldn't. 

"Technically... it wouldn't be friends with benefits. It'd... be friends helping each other out," you said. The words sounded ridiculous to your own ears, but you felt triumphant when you got Bucky to at least crack a smile.

"That's the definition of friends with benefits. Wanna try again?"

"Um... It'd be my best friend giving me the best gift ever and ridding me of my virginity so I'm no longer a freak?"

"You're not a freak, Y/N," he sighed, "And that's still the definition of friends with benefits. Try again."

"Okay okay. So maybe it'd be friends with benefits, but it'd be different for us. Neither of us would end up getting hurt."

"You sound pretty certain about that."

"I am certain about it because it's you and I, Bucky. It's been us for years. And at this point it's going to take more than sex to ruin what we have. Besides it's not like we're going to fall in love with each if that's what you're worried about."

"You tellin' me you're not already in love with me, sweetheart? I'm hurt. Thought we had somethin' extra special between us," he teased, a twinkle in his eye.

"You're an idiot," you replied, laughter spilling from your lips. You didn't want to get your hopes up, but you couldn't help it as you glanced up at him through your lashes. 

"So... is that a yes or a no?" Your breath caught in the back of your throat as you waited for his answer.

As much as he wanted to he couldn't say no to you. Part of him still thought this was a bad idea, but what was he going to do? You looked so hopeful staring up at him. Closing his eyes and hoping he was making the right decision he said yes. 

The excited squeal that came out of your mouth made him laugh as his back dug into the counter at the feeling of your arms wrapping tightly around his neck in a hug. And to think all the drama could have been avoided had he said yes last night. 

"But there's gonna be rules," he started, his voice raising to be heard over your chants of thank yous.

Pulling back from the hug you nodded your head yes. At this point you'd agree to anything. Part of you still couldn't believe he had agreed to this. "Anything," you said quickly, the word tumbling from your lips as your eyes sparkled with excitement.

"We're not doing anything until you're over your ex. I don't care how long it takes you need to be over him before we do this." Bucky watched as you nodded your head in agreement. 

Once he got that he continued. "And we're taking this slow. 'M serious, need you to be one hundred percent sure this is what you want all the way and the minute it's not you gotta tell me. I don't wanna do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?" Satisfied when he saw your head nod yes again he sighed. "Okay, good."

"Thank you, Bucky," you said, a smile curving your lips. "This isn’t going to change anything between us, you’ll see.”

tags:

@nighttwingg​

[sanghyukstattoos]

Baby (Part 4)

Characters: Lee Sanghyuk I Dawon x Reader 

Genre: Fluff, smut (dom!reader, sub!Dawon, oral sex where F receives and M gives, little bit of spanking)

Parts:  .1. .2. .3. .4. .5.

Summary: Letting Sanghyuk heal and recover in the comfort of your home, you returned home with a particular question in mind, thoughts of your dampening arousal swirling your mind all day.

A/N: Heyyy!!! Guess who’s back with a part 4? Welp, if this isn’t the cutest relationship ever that you’ll probably be reading more about in part 5-

For the next few days Sanghyuk behaved well and you weren’t as swamped with work as before. You were able to return home at normal times to Sanghyuk and pay him all the attention in the world that he deserved. You’d usually find him on the sofa, watching TV while laughing heartily at something one of the characters had said or under the covers, playing some games. 

Tossing your keys on the table, you removed your shoes, feet aching from the long day at work. You couldn’t deny how adorable Sanghyuk was as he bit his lips and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. Today also happened to be one of those days where the more he did it, the harder you found it to hold yourself back.

‘‘Hey babie’‘ ruffling his hair as sat down on the sofa next to him. You smiled as he looked at him and murmured a ‘‘hey’‘ looking back at the screen. You leaned in close, whispering into his ear, ‘‘When you were naughty a few days ago..’‘ and that was all it took to catch his attention. 

Looking at you with inquisitive eyes, he patiently waited for you to continue, ‘’I wanted to use your pretty face to pleasure myself but-’’ eyes widening at your words.

‘’To hold your head back’’ tugging his hair gently so that it was enough to show him what you meant, ‘’and slip my cunt over your lips as you ate me out’’. ‘’But I never got to do that’’ pursing your lips. 

‘‘I guess there’s no other way to say this: Pleasure me and just maybe, I’ll reward you’‘ eagerly nodding at your words. His words were far less today meaning that he was unlikely to act in any way that would result in a punishment.

Removing your suit jacket and trousers, he watched as you pulled your panties down leaving you in one other piece of clothing. When you did this, he knew what it meant: you were going to use him and his cock grew harder at this thought. 

Laying down on his back, he watched you settle your already dripping core over his mouth, waiting for your signal to touch you. ‘’Go ahead’’ and his hands immediately found your back while he swiped a tongue over your folds, tasting your sweet essence. 

Being able to eat you out made him feel rewarded and he wanted to do a good job in making you feel that way. Rubbing a finger over your clit, you moaned at the sensation of his warm tongue hungrily lapping at your juices. 

His hot breath fanned over your core as he went to insert his muscle into your entrance making you lurch forward, holding onto the arm of the sofa. 

Rocking your hips back and forth, he kept up with your pace, growing harder at the high- pitched whines that left your mouth. It meant that he was doing a god job and he continued, licking your walls and trying to find your sweet spot. 

His mouth was glistening with your juices as he took in all of you. Pressing a kiss to your folds, he covered your walls with tongue wherever he could. The tip swiped over your spot and he left that area in search of another. 

‘‘Go for it baby’‘ you encouraged him, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed and vibration ran directly up your spine, whines falling your lips at the added pleasure. 

You gasped as you felt your lower stomach tighten with each slurp that he drew. Your arousal grew as he continued with no idea that you were about to release. Rubbing your clit, he leaned away to press a kiss to your inner labia and your tightness loosened, spilling your cum all over his mouth and throat. 

Riding his face, you released for a few more seconds, gradually slowing down your pace. Standing up, you cleaned yourself with a wet wipe and dressed yourself. He hadn’t moved but his eyes carefully watched you, waiting for a command. 

Standing over him, ‘’Clean your mouth’’ and he swallowed your cum, tongue swiping to eat the excess around his mouth. Taking some from his throat, you pressed it to his lips and he opened his mouth, gladly licking your hand. 

‘‘That’s a good boy’‘ you remarked and his cheeks lit up at the compliment. You smiled as he sat up and then you saw his aching cock that you were pretty sure was dripping already against the confining material of his joggers.

‘‘What shall we do about you huh?’‘ you asked, going to collect your stuff. He reached for your extended hand as you made your way to the bedroom. ‘‘Wait for me’‘ he pouted at your words. ‘‘Do I have to wait?’‘ he asked and if it wasn’t for how cute he was, you would have corrected him already. 

Pinching his cheeks, you nodded, ‘’Be naked and on the bed, waiting’’ obediently trudging to the bed. You smiled as he turned around, patting his butt in encouragement. 

Sanghyuk stripped his clothes and laid on the bed, propped up on his elbows face up. He patiently waited, wondering when exactly you were going to come out and then started shaking his leg, feeling impatient when a couple of minutes had already passed by. Usually you were quick to change but you took your time today feeling jittery.

You were excited at the prospect of making him wait when all he needed was you to come and sit on his cock. Walking out, he immediately straightened, attention on your clothed body and then it struck him, why were you dressed? 

Confusion apparent, you held back a laugh at his confused state saying, ‘’Even I don’t know why I changed’’. He looked at you in disbelief and you laughed, his thighs shaking at the thought of having to wait for nothing. 

‘‘Awww’‘ you whispered, stroking his cheek, ‘‘There’s no harm in waiting’’. Not hearing a reply, you lightly smacked his ass causing him to jolt, snapping out of his thoughts. 

You went to strip but not before harshly smacking his ass and hearing him whimper as you said, ‘’Pay attention’’. He shook his head in agreement and spread his legs for you, resting his head on sheets. 

Climbing on top of him, ‘’You ass- I just want to keep hitting it’’ remarking, positioning him at your entrance and sinking onto his cock. He moaned as he felt your warm walls hug him, a contrast to the air of the room while you gasped as he filled you. 

Bottoming out in you, you wasted no time in rocking your hips and drawing moans from the both of you. The sounds of pretty, choked moans filled the entire room, feeling his hands roam your chest and squeeze your breasts.

Entwining his arms above his head, you lifted yourself and sunk onto his cock a loud moan leaving your lips. He was in absolute bliss, whining for you to move faster. He gulped as you thrusted your hips, moving at a fast pace.

"Do you want to cum?" and he whimpered at your question vigorously nodding his head as he looked at you. "Yes please", your eyes softening at his manners. His eyebrows were knit in pleasure and he kneaded your breast and ass, wanting to feel all of you.

Biting your lip, you slapped his nipple saying, "Take over" and for the first time in a while, this was his chance. He hasn't been able to make love to you and neither did he have complete control but it was enough for him to pleasure you.

Shifting your positions so that he was above you, he propped himself up on his palms and thrusted into you as your hands found his ass, spanking the soft flesh. He gasped as he felt a jolt of electricity run through him while you moaned, feeling his cock pummel in and out of you.

"Good boy" hearing this, he absorbed the compliment, increasing his pace. He lingered above your lips and you could smell the scent of your cum on his lips. Pressing your lips to his, he responded with enthusiasm, soaking up the kiss.

Nuzzling his face into your neck, you felt your arousal pool around your core, making it even easier for him to thrust into you. His tip hit your cervix, putting all of his strength into his thrusts as he watched your mouth fall open in intense pleasure, feeling proud for being the only one to make you feel like that.

As he nuzzled his cheeks between your neck and shoulders, you knew that he was going to cum and without any warning, he did. Seeing how he wasn't really able to ever tell you before he came, you let it go. Your legs spread wider at the warm, liquid feeling of cum inside your walls that was a lot and at once.

He sighed in relief at the built up feeling that released and slowed down his pace but reached in between your bodies to rub your clit. You pressed your hips down onto his cock and he whined at the overstimulation but continued like an obedient sub. Between his cock and rubbing your clit, it didn't take very long for you to cum after him, juices painting his cock that was still in you.

He pulled out of you and laid beside, pulling you into his chest. You hugged him but as soon as you did, you heard your phone buzzing. You groaned at the and reached out for the phone but he held onto you tighter, not willing to let you go.

‘‘I’m switching it off’‘ you gently spoke and he acknowledged it by loosening his grip, allowing you to reach for the phone and turn it off. Going back into his arms, the two of you laid there as the sky behind you streaked in shades of fuchsia and violet indicating that the sun was beginning its slow descent back to make way for the night. 

‘‘What’d you spend your whole day doing?’‘ you asked him, genuinely wondering if he was okay staying at home for long periods of time without you. ‘’Watching, eating...’’ trailing, trying to remember the last time he had a productive day. This is when you realised that the both of you hadn’t spent a lot of time together lately. 

‘‘Are you okay without me at home?’‘ he hugged you tightly at the question, ‘‘I want you’‘ and your heart ached, frowning at his words. ‘‘Then let’s spend some time together’‘ his eyes lighting up at your words causing you to smile at the change in attitude. ‘‘If you can, take some time off, say, then we can go somewhere and I already have a few places in mind’‘ he spoke 

Your fingers danced around his ass causing him to let out a surprised gasp when he felt a squeeze. Bringing his head into the crook of your neck he wrapped his arms around you as played with his hair, hearing his soft breaths.

‘‘Where do you want to go?’‘ you asked and he replied, "To go to the zoo? Or see the new carnival in town or, a fancy fast food feast’’. Rubbing the pads of your fingers over the soft flesh of his ass, you held him in your arms, asking, ‘’What’s a fancy fast food feast?’’. ‘’Ah, it’s where you buy fast food and pair it with something fancy- like wine’’ he replied, already thinking about getting drunk with you. 

Understanding the basic concept, you asked, ‘’But we can put our own spin to it, right?’’

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 12- The Dark King

Word Count: 10, 700

Ao3

TW: Mentions of rape, abuse, violence

A/N: Thank you guys for your kind comments and support so far! I really love the enthusiasm and your responses! 

I also wanted to share these amazing fanart!! 

by @nessieusagi​ 

by @milas-imaginarium​

I think they’re so lovely and it makes me so happy seeing all of this!

Masterlist

Ko-Fi

The first thing you felt when you woke up the next morning was the burning soreness between your thighs.

You winced when you reached down to touch your tender folds. Your labia minora was slightly swollen, and you felt something sticky. You withdrew your hand to see dark red oxidized blood.

You got up from bed, flinching as you walked to your bathroom to wash up. After a quick shower, you head out but paused when you caught your own reflection in the mirror. There were bruises on your waist and your hips, a double crescent shaped marking around your left nipple- you hadn’t even realise he bit you there in the heat. Your eyes then darted towards your neck, taking in the dark spots that had formed on the surface of your skin.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered.

You were a fucking mess. Anyone who saw you would immediately know what you were up to the night before. Even washed and clean, you could make out your slightly swollen lips.

You reached for your makeup bag and started covering up the visible remains of the assault you welcomed- before pausing in realisation.

Mother was quiet. She hadn’t made a single comment about how dirty you were.

And you didn’t feel dirty either.

You saw your own lips quirk up in a smirk as you craned your head to expose your neck even more to dab on concealer. You had just finished getting dressed when you heard a knock on your door.

“ Hey, you up?” you heard Dick’s muffled voice from outside.

You didn’t bother to reply, but went to open the door for him.

You stared at him, as he stared at you.

“You look like shit,” you snickered, then stepped aside to allow him inside.

His eyes were red and puffy, with dark circles underneath them. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and the fact that his complexion was gray and pale added on to the “looks like death” look.

“I feel like shit,” he groaned. You sat on the chair near your desk as he helped himself to your bed.

“Are you okay?” he frowned in concern.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re walking funny,” he narrowed his eyes at you.

Shit.

You had tried to walk as normally as you could, but you were naive to think that you could have fooled Dick.

“Oh!” you feigned realisation, “My foot hurts a bit. I think I twisted it yesterday when I ran up the stairs.”

Fuck.

Another blunder.

It wasn’t a half truth, it was a straight up lie, and you knew how good Dick was at detecting lies. Judging from the tightening of his lips and the scrutinizing pause, he saw straight through you. You remained silent for a few moments. Then-

“So, Bruce told you, right?” Dick changed the subject, “How did you take it?”

You relaxed.

“I didn’t know him,” you reminded, “So it was more like a surprise to me, you know? I didn’t think it was possible. Then everything just made sense. Like, mind blowingly. The shit he said to me, the familiarity with the gadgets and my uniform, the kidnapping.”

“It killed him, you know?” Dick brought up, “Bruce, I mean. When he saw those bruises Red Hood- no, Jason- left on you. He probably didn’t show much, but Alfred called and told me how badly he took it.”

Suddenly, you were hyper aware of the hickies you currently had hidden on your neck, as if they were burning into your skin.

“Well, that was Todd’s plan, I suppose,” you shrugged. It still felt weird to talk about him in the context of the present.

“It worked,” Dick nodded, “Bruce was messed up. You’re his daughter after all.”

You didn’t know how to respond to his sad smile, so you changed the subject.

“So did you yell at him?” you smirked, “For keeping it a secret for so long?”

“Yell at him? I punched him,” he revealed.

“In the face?” you gasped.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered, looking away.

“How long will you be staying?” you asked.

“I’m taking a week off work. If nothing by then, I’ll go back, but will continue to drop by as much as I can.”

“Anything last night?” you questioned.

“No,” he sighed, “We tried to look for people to interrogate, but it wasn’t our luck. We’ll try again. We’ve been checking out Bruce’s safehouses as well since he never removed Jason’s security clearance so he could be using one of them. So far nothing, though.”

You felt like a dark mass inside of you was eating you up, drowning you in guilt and shame.

While they were out desperately looking for Jason the night before, you knew exactly where he was and who he was doing.

“You’ll find him eventually,” you offered, “And when this stupid suspension is over, I’ll be there to help as well.”

“Yeah,” he hummed, “Jason… I want to help him. Save him. He’s angry, and you know what? I get it. I get why he’s pissed.”

So Dick got it?

He got that it was your fucking fault? That you were Jason’s replacement?

He got why Jason fucking hated you?

Dick must have noticed the change in your expression, because he quickly added, “I meant Bruce. How Bruce let Joker go.”

“Yeah, I got that,” you recovered, “It’s fine.”

“Sure, Bruce beat Joker up and all that, but I felt that Jason was always the type to think that the ends justify the means. He valued the intentions more than the action itself-”

“I said it’s fine, Dick,” you cut him off.

“And of course it does not in any way justify what he did to you-”

“Dick,” you grit, “It’s fine.”

He looked at you warily.

Or was it pity?

You didn’t need or want his fucking pity.

“Anyway,” he got up, “Breakfast?”

“Sure,” you followed suit, willing yourself to not grimace at the shooting pain between your thighs that you had forgotten about.

The two of you made your way downstairs to have breakfast in the dining room, table already set by Alfred.

“Bruce?” you asked Dick, wondering where your father was.

“He’s been in the cave the whole night,” Dick frowned as he took a seat across from you, “Hadn’t slept a wink.”

“I see,” you acknowledged, while you piled your plate with bacon and eggs.

“So,” Dick started with his mouth full, “Where did you go last night?”

“Did Alfred tell you I went out?” you narrowed your eyes.

“Mhmm.”

You immediately started to get more cautious.

“I went to see someone,” you casually told him, trying your best to lower your heartbeat.

“Oh, was it that guy you were seeing?”

“Yup.”

“You never told me his name.”

You swallowed.

“Carter.”

“Carter?” he snickered.

“What’s wrong with Carter?” you feigned a defensive stance.

“Nothing wrong,” he tried to stifle his laughter, “So is Carter the reason why you’re walking funny?”

You did not expect that.

You were going to gasp in shock, but you had food in your mouth, so you ended up choking on it and going into a coughing fit.

“Dick!” you hacked violently, eyes streaming with tears.

“What?” he guffawed, “Oh, God. Are you okay?”

“Why would you say that?” you reached for the glass of juice.

“I need to know whether I gotta have a stern talking with some guy,” he laughed, “It was an honest question! Come on, I’m your brother.”

“Even more reason not to discuss these things!” you grimaced.

“Hey, if you’re old enough to do it, you’re old enough to talk about it,” he said smugly.

“It’s none of your business,” you protested, blushing furiously.

But the universe was a bitch.

Against all your luck, your phone that you had set on the table dinged.

You looked at Dick, and he looked at you, mischief glinting in his eyes.

You had been Robin for a long time, and while your reflexes were good, it still wasn’t as good as Dick’s.

Before you could reach for your phone, Dick had lunged for it, snatching it away mere moments before you could react.

“Dick, give it back!” you panicked, jumping across the table to catch swipe it back, causing a commotion.

He stood up tall, keeping the phone out of your reach.

“Oooh, Sexy Hunk From Library, huh?” he read out the notification on your lock screen. You put in a mental reminder to change your settings later.

“Thought of my proposal?” he read out loud, skipping away from you.

Fuck.

If Jason sent anything else, he’d expose himself.

“Proposal?” Dick continued, “What proposal? Did he ask you to marry him?”

You could tackle him. You couldn’t beat Dick but you could perhaps make him drop your phone.

“Or,” he gasped, “Is he into BDSM? Fifty Shades of Grey stuff? He’s getting you to sign a contract, isn’t-”

“How about instead of distracting yourself and using humor as a coping mechanism for your obvious grief and anger, you come to the terms and accept the fact that it was your fucking little brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted me?” you spat with venom.

You saw the moment Dick registered your words, the way his smile fell, his teasing eyes darkened, his jaw clench and his back stiffened.

Dick had never looked at you the way he did then, and suddenly you felt small in his presence, the way Batman had always made you shrink away from his excessive aura of authority that he projected while he scrutinized you.

You felt like a dark veil covered the sun, and wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole as he looked at you with dark eyes.

“Dick-”

“You’re right,” he grit, “Thanks for the slap in the face.”

“I’m sorry-” you tried.

“Clean up the mess you made,” he cut you off before leaving you alone with spilled juice and bacon bits on the floor.

You were never the clingy type.

You never really missed anyone because you never had anyone to miss. The maids and nannies in your childhood home rotated frequently so that you couldn’t get attached to them. Looking back, you were sure your parents did it on purpose.

It was only when you started giving full trust to your new family that you knew how it felt to miss someone.

And it had always been Dick, since you had gotten close to him and he wasn’t around much. You always had a good relationship with him, and he never once got angry at you or looked at you the way he did.

And now, it was Dick you had hurt.

But frankly, you didn’t care.

Because he deserved it.

***

It wasn’t like Jason was hoping for you to agree, but it was part of his plan so he couldn’t help but hope.

At least, that’s what he was telling himself.

He was sitting at his dining table- the fact that he owned a dining table sort of made him pleased with himself- cleaning his guns.

It took you almost an hour before you finally replied his text.

When Jason heard the ding, he looked to his screen to read the notification.

I’m still thinking.

He frowned, then put his gun down. He wiped his hand stained with grease and gunpowder residue on his bare chest, leaving a trail of gray on the surface of his skin before picking up his phone to reply.

Think faster. he simply sent.

He saw that you immediately started typing back.

These things take planning, Jason. I need to make sure no one can identify me if I were to go out with you. It’s not the matter of whether or not I can decide, it’s the matter of whether or not I’m capable of eluding Batman once he sees a surveillance footage of me with you.

Jason smirked. Evidently, you were agitated.

He liked that.

He liked agitating you.

You’re a smart girl. You can figure it out. he replied and went back to cleaning his weapons when you didn’t text him back.

Two hours later, his phone dinged again.

Fine. Where do we meet?

Jason smiled widely at his success.

Meet me at 7th Dillon Avenue, Coventry. I’ll be in the alley between the old tailor shop and a thrift store. 11pm sharp.

Noted.

Oh, and babygirl? he sent again.

What?

Put on that lip gloss you always wear. he replied with a kissing emoji he knew would get under your skin.

***

I don’t exist for him.

I don’t care what he thinks.

I don’t want to please him.

You repeated to yourself again and again as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the tube of clear lipgloss you always wore held tight in your shaking fist.

After knowing he wanted you to wear it, you were suddenly torn between putting it on or not. You didn’t think something as stupid and simple as that could drive you up the wall.

You were frowning at yourself, at how idiotic you were being.

You were already ready, wearing a tight black suit made from Kevlar thread underneath black armor, your hair out of your face, and steel toed combat boots on complete with black leather gloves you usually wore during winter. The only weapons you were bringing were a pair of escrima sticks strapped to your back, your grappling gun strapped to your upper thigh, and a small knife strapped below it. Your belt only had smoke bombs. You were ready to leave, except for the lipgloss.

You groaned, and smacked it on anyway, hating yourself silently for listening to him.

You left your phone in your room, because you knew that Bruce could track your movements with it and deactivating your GPS and whatever bug he used would be more suspicious.

You managed to sneak past Alfred and head to the garage, thankful that both Bruce and Dick were already out, and chose the most normal looking motorcycle available and slapping black duct tape on the number plate to cover it up.

You thought about how your core would just sting while riding a motorcycle. The pain between your legs had lessened, but it was still sore enough to make your movements odd and stiff.

You left the manor with your heart beat racing, thinking of how you were betraying the man who took you in and loved you.

The man whom you called your father.

The streets in Coventry were dark and empty at that time. The only shops that were open were a couple of empty dodgy bars and convenience stores. You and Batman sometimes would patrol the area because it was such a perfect place for crime to happen. For some reason, it was so empty that even criminals hardly ever targeted anyone in the area save a few residents.

You hurriedly zoomed into the alley that Jason had told you. Both the tailor shop and thrift store were closed. You immediately saw him leaning against a black, sleek classic car, helmet resting on the hood. It was your first time seeing him as Red Hood after discovering his identity.

And the image ignited a fire in your belly.

You parked next to him and switched your engine off, taking off your own black motorcycle helmet.

You walked towards him and stopped a few feet away, arms crossed.

He looked at you, up and down. Then-

“Very homemade. I like it. Black suits you better,” he drawled. “You’re packing light tonight.”

“I had to be careful,” you reminded him, “I couldn’t take much weapons. He would have noticed.”

“I didn’t know you used those,” he nodded at the escrima sticks on your back.

“Dick taught me how to use them,” you explained, “My fighting style is too rigid- Bruce would recognize it if he saw me fight next to you. I’m not as familiar with the escrima sticks, so I haven’t developed a style yet. It could throw him off- hopefully.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, and started walking towards you. You refused to budge. He came close to you and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you close against his chest.

Your breath hitched, but you willed yourself to not show any sort of reaction.

“And this?” he breathed, hands snaking up your waist, rubbing the material up and down, “Kevlar armor?”

“Zylon,” you mumbled, ignoring the growing heat between your legs, “It’s six times stronger than Kevlar.”

“And he wouldn’t notice this go missing?”

“It’s stored away,” you huffed, “It’s more like a bulletproof vest rather than a suit. He wouldn’t miss it. Not the way he would miss the tech he used on the Robin suit.”

“Impressive,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning your face. He started caressing your cheek gently. It could have been a romantic gesture, but for some reason you thought that it was more threatening. “You’re even wearing contacts to change the color of your eyes. See? I knew you were smart”

“That’s a given,” you scoffed, looking sideways. Anywhere to avoid his eyes, though he was wearing a red domino mask with white lens. “Why do you even wear a mask if you already have a helmet?”

“Why did you wear your lipgloss when you had no obligation to listen to me?” he smirked, his thumb pressed on your shiny lips.

You slapped his hand away and looked at him in defiance as you put on a black bandana over your nose and mouth, tying it behind your head to give you a sense of protected identity.

He chuckled, and let you go.

“This is our rendezvous point. If anything happens, we meet back here. Now hop in,” he walked towards his car.

“Why can’t I take my own vehicle?” you demanded.

“Because I want you next to me,” he grinned, and put on his helmet. The minute it rested on his head, you saw it activate, the white glowing eyes switched on and you heard the very soft sound of his electronic breaths.

You frowned.

It was state of the art tech. You knew it must have had additional features like night vision and zoom lenses, not unlike the one you owned. You wondered where or how he had procured it.

“If that’s your only reason, then I’m taking my bike,” you defied.

He was already going to enter the driver’s seat when he stopped midway. He turned to look at you, and for some reason, it made you shudder.

In a flash, he was already behind you, taking your arms to incapacitate you and slammed your front onto the hood of his car.

He was unbelievably fast- you couldn’t believe that they were human reflexes. It must have been a result of the Lazarus Pit that Bruce briefed you on.

He bent over you, a hand in your hair forcing your head down against the warm car.

“Don’t get too cocky, baby girl,” he cautioned, “I still don’t trust you enough.”

You had to admit that the vulnerable position you were in sort of made your pussy clench.

“Fine,” you conceded, “I’ll go with you.”

You felt the pressure disappear and heard the car door slam. You grumbled and rubbed your cheek, before following suit.

Just because you knew it was Jason, you had let your guard down. You forgot how unstable he actually was. You made a mental reminder to be more cautious of his mood bursts.

You slammed the door shut. The interior of the car looked just as sleek as the exterior, with black leather seats- the passenger and driver’s seat were joined together- and an old school cassette player with nothing playing. The car was spacious and looked like a collector’s car. Again, you were left to wonder where he got it.

“Where are we going?” you asked, looking out the window, trying to avoid how sexy his arms looked when he gripped the steering wheel.

How could arms even be sexy?

“We’re heading to iClub,” he stated.

“On Verne Avenue? The one owned by the Ibenescus’?” you frowned, “They still a problem for you?”

“Big operation. Proud family,” he huffed, “International business. Yes, they’re a problem. They’ve been trying to hide it from me, but my men say they’re still active.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

You felt uneasy.

“Just have a little talk with Victor,” he shrugged, “He’s in charge of the operations now after the Patru Fatri, and the cousins. He’s more distant from the main family, but an Ibenescu nonetheless.”

“Well, I hope the club doesn’t check IDs,” you mumbled jokingly to yourself.

To your surprise, you heard Jason bark out a loud laugh. It was an odd sound coming from the voice scrambler inside his helmet.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rested a hand on your lap, which you felt almost burn, “You look way over 21.”

*** What Gotham lacked in security, it made up with entertainment.

Theatrics.

Its affinity for producing and attracting bizarre individuals always made for good dinner discussion. You just never thought you would be on the side of the crazies.

Jason had parked a couple of blocks away from the club. You recognized the area, as it was just a lane away from The Black Bass Bar, where Jason had decapitated the cousins and put their heads on spikes.

The two of you walked towards the club.

“Listen here,” he started, “This isn’t your area of expertise. You do exactly what I tell you to do. You don’t open your mouth unless I say so. I’ve worked hard to earn fear from these people and I’m not going to let you fuck that up for me. Understood?”

“Whatever,” you huffed.

You noticed how the bouncers started getting nervous when they saw the two of you approaching. They had started to sweat and fidget, trying excessively hard to focus on filtering the going ins and outs of guests.

“Red Hood, sir,” one of them nodded and let the two of you inside. The moment you stepped in, you felt like you were immediately deafened by the loud techno music that was playing, and blinded by the flashing bright lights.

You noticed how many of the customers recognized Red Hood, and flinched away from him, avoiding eye contact. Their gaze would linger longer on you, curiosity in their eyes.

The both of you squeezed past the sweaty dancers on the floor, and towards the VIP area on the other side of the club.

Seated on the long suede purple sofas were three men, each with at least two women on their arms. The moment they saw you approaching, they immediately went rigid.

Red Hood simply strutted to the area and you followed behind him.

“Ah, Red Hood,” the man with straw hair that was slicked back and navy blue shirt that he had left unbuttoned, revealing his hairy chest, greeted. “Take a seat, take a seat! I see you have a guest with you, as well.”

“Victor,” Red Hood nodded, sitting on the chair. He crossed his legs and spread his arms across the back of the sofa, lounging comfortably. He looked over to you and nodded to his side, silently telling you to sit.

You obeyed, though less relaxed than Red Hood. It was slightly quieter at the VIP lounge, but you still had to strain your ears to hear them speak.

“Can I get you a drink, my friend?” Victor offered, “Maybe something for the lady?”

“You want anything, princess?” Red Hood turned to you.

“No, thank you,” you grit.

You hated that he was calling you pet names while in the presence of a crime lord. It was humiliating, and made you feel like you were just an accessory to him, not unlike those hardly dressed girls that were on Victor’s side.

You noticed one of them.

He had his arm wrapped around her waist, but she looked extremely uncomfortable. She was blonde, wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline, and didn’t look that much older than you. Even with the layers of badly applied makeup, you could tell she had eyebags and dark circles, perhaps maybe even bruises on her face.

“Angelica,” Victor called a girl from the other end of the sofa, “Come here give my friend some company.”

The girl called Angelica had tanned skin and exotic features, and was a brunette with curls that hung to her hips and was wearing a body hugging deep purple glittery tube dress. She came to sit on Red Hood’s other side, snuggling up close to him and started rubbing her hand on his thigh, and whispered something that you couldn’t hear.

And he just let her.

You clenched your jaw.

No, you couldn’t be jealous. It didn’t make sense for you to be. Yet, the sudden tightness of your chest said otherwise.

You saw Red Hood angled his face slightly towards you, probably to see your reaction.

You couldn’t see it, but you somehow knew he was smirking.

“So what brings you here?” Victor asked, trying to hide his nervousness.

It was the first time you met with an Ibenescu face to face. You thought that they would have a thick accent, but Victor sounded just as American as you and Red Hood.

“I was just wondering how things were going on your end,” Red Hood shrugged.

“Things are going excellent,” he replied, “As you can see, the club is doing great. People are enjoying themselves.”

“And the drugs?” Red Hood brought up.

“Ah, straight to business, like always,” Victor chuckled, “We’ve sold almost all our stock this month. You can come by and get your share of profits any time.”

“Who are your clients?”

“Local distributors, as well as some international ones,” he explained, “With explicit instruction to avoid dealing with the underaged, of course.”

“And how can you be so sure they’re listening?” Red Hood demanded.

“You know us, Red Hood,” he boasted, “The Ibenescu Family is one of the most powerful families in Gotham. Our name is very well known in the underground. We have people everywhere. Our operations span from the Americas, to Europe, to South East Asia.”

“And which operation did you come from, sweetheart?” he addressed the girl next to him.

She looked at him with shock, gaping like a fish out of water.

“Angelica here is from the Philippines,” Victor answered for her, his voice grittier than normal, “She migrated to find work. I provided for her. Isn’t that right, Angel?”

“Y-yes, sir,” she stuttered, “Mister Victor has been very good to me. He gave me a job when others wouldn’t. I am forever grateful for him.”

You frowned at the way she recited those words, almost like she memorized it from a playcard.

“The American dream, as the say,” Victor continued, “My family are very familiar with it. We are immigrants that came a long time ago, and America provided for us. I wanted to do the same for others.”

“Did you now?” Red Hood hummed.

“Of course,” he nodded aggressively, “But enough about me. Who is this ravishing lady you have here? I have not seen you before, my dear.”

You looked at Red Hood, who nodded subtly once.

“I’m V,” you made up on the spot.

“V?” Victor repeated.

“For Vendetta,” you finished.

You heard Red Hood chuckle next to you.

Victor raised an eyebrow, “Well, my dear, you must be special to my good friend Red Hood, here. I didn’t think he was capable of laughter. Where did he hide you all this while?”

“Ah, you see, Victor,” Red Hood cut in, “I did not hide her, because she isn’t mine to hide. V here is her own person, who happened to become partners with me for tonight. People only hide property, and women aren’t property, am I right?”

There was an unmistakable threat in his voice.

“Of course not,” Victor agreed, “I respect women.”

Suddenly, there was a tension in the air as the two men looked at each other.

Then, Victor started laughing.

“You’re too tense, Red Hood,” he boomed, “And you should trust your associates more. Especially the ones who sacrificed their entire industry for you.”

“Sacrifice, huh?” he said softly. Then, Red Hood turned his body towards you, scooting closer to your side. He let his hand rest on your thigh.

“You got my back, baby girl?” he whispered into your ear.

“Yes, but I’m not killing anyone,” you whispered back, “And you shouldn’t either.”

He ignored you and went back to Victor.

“Victor,” Red Hood said, “I’m feeling a little… Restless tonight. I want one of your girls.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Oh?” Victor widen his eyes, “Finally taking up my offer! Of course, of course! Pick anyone of my lovely ladies.”

“I want that one,” Red Hood pointed to the blonde Victor was obviously possessive over.

“Elena?” Victor started laughing awkwardly, “I’m afraid she’s not available, Red Hood. But you’re welcome to choose anyone else. Angel here is very popular.”

“No,” Red Hood insisted, “I want your Elena.”

“That’s not possible,” Victor denied, annoyance on his face, “Elena is only for me.”

“Well, since you respect women so much, let’s hear it from her, huh?” Red Hood teased, “Elena, sweetheart, would you keep me company tonight?”

Elena’s eyes were wide and terrified. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. You felt bad for her and wondered why Red Hood was putting her in such a difficult situation.

“I-I-I’m v-very sorry,” she squeaked. You could hear her thick Romanian accent. “I o-only serve Mister Ibenescu.”

“What, this clown?” Red Hood scoffed, earning a glare from Victor, “Unlike him, I’m sure I can give you a pretty good time.”

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, “T-that is not possible.”

Red Hood kept silent.

“There you go, the woman herself said it,” Victor commented, “And you’d want to respect a woman’s wishes right, Red Hood?”

“How old are you?” Red Hood asked softly, ignoring Victor.

“T-twenty-four,” she replied.

“You don’t look twenty-four,” he hummed, “How long have you been working with Victor?”

“Two years,” she automatically responded.

“I see,” he nodded.

You could tell she was lying, about both her age and how long she worked. And you knew Jason caught on as well.

Jason leaned back, taking out his gun from his thigh holster and casually dumped it on the low rise table, clinking against the glass bottles and shot glasses.

Ibenescu tensed up, and then there were about fifteen men who pointed their guns at the two you. You were about halfway standing up, reaching for your escrima sticks when Red Hood caught you by the shoulder to stop you.

You frowned at him, then sat back down.

You noticed that the music had suddenly stopped, and everyone in the club was silently looking, worry in their eyes and preparation to take off if anything were to get out of hand. You guessed that these sort of things happened frequently, and the club probably had a system for when it did.

“Relax, will you?” he growled at everyone, “Was just getting a little uncomfortable there, Jesus Christ.”

Victor nodded at his men, and they set their guns down. The music continued to play and the customers continued to dance as if nothing had happened.

You now knew what he was doing.

From the very beginning, he already planned out what he was going to say and what he was going to do in order to prepare for an inevitable fight. Based on observation, he knew that Elena was Victor’s favourite and that he would not let anyone touch her, so he provoked him by asking for her.

Asking Elena her age and how long she worked was also a calculated and pivotal move. Since both you and Red Hood could tell when someone was lying, the fact that she was indeed hiding what seemed to be minor information told volumes that she wasn’t supposed to be by Victor’s side, meaning that she wasn’t there by choice, and you could assume that she was trafficked.

From there, he confirmed his sources that Victor had not ended his human and sex trafficking trade, and had reasonable reason to attack.

And by putting the gun on the table, however he relaxed he seemed, was a massive power move. He showed that he wasn’t afraid of being unarmed- though, you knew he was probably packing more than one gun. Tactical wise, when Ibenescu’s men showed themselves, they also showed their numbers to you. You now knew where they were, what weapons they used, and how many of them you needed to take down.

You smirked to yourself underneath your improvised mask. You knew already how smart and strategic he was based on how he conquered the underground in only just a few months, but seeing him act in the flesh, you truly appreciated his brain.

“It almost seems like you’re scared of me, Victor,” he drawled, “Are you?”

“You did kill members of my family,” he mumbled.

“It was their fault now, wasn’t it?” Red Hood shrugged, “I told them to stop. They wouldn’t. Now, if you’re not as stupid as they were, Vic, you wouldn’t have to be scared, am I right?”

Red Hood leaned forward towards Victor, resting his elbows on his knees and tilting his head sideways.

“With all due respect, Red Hood, they were not stupid,” Victor argued, “They were simply protecting the pride of our name.”

“And how about you? You’re not protecting your family’s pride?”

“I prioritize my life over pride,” Ibenescu admitted, “And I respect you as Gotham’s Dark King.”

Dark King? What the fuck?

“Dark King,” Red Hood repeated, laughing lightly, “Got a nice ring to it, don’t you think, princess?”

He elbowed your side playfully.

“A bit cheesy for my taste,” you grit.

“Aw, the missus doesn’t like it. To be fair, I think it’s cheesy too,” he stated, “But you know what I don’t like even more, Victor?”

Victor frowned at him in question.

“I said,” Red Hood snarled, “You know what I don’t like even more, Victor?”

“W-what, Red Hood?” Victor sputtered.

“People who lie to me,” he growled.

In a blink of an eye, with the speed you had witnessed earlier and many times before, he had managed to stand up, reach for the gun on the table, jumped across and stepped on Victor’s chest who was leaning in panic against the sofa, and cocked the gun towards his head.

All before you could even register his initial movement.

The fifteen men aimed their semi-automatics at Red Hood, prepared to gun him down.

The music had stopped, and from your peripheral vision, you saw the crowd were ushered to the exit in chaos.

“If your men don’t put down their weapons, I’ll shoot,” Red Hood looked down at Victor.

“What is the point, Red Hood?” Victor defied, “You would kill me anyways. I might as well try to take you down with me.”

Red Hood paused for a moment. Then-

“Baby girl?”

You nodded. “Got it.”

The first person you attacked was the one pointing his gun to your back.

The sticks felt unfamiliar, yet refreshing.

You managed to knock him out before he could shoot at you, but by that time others were already pulling their triggers. You locked your next target.

You ran at him and slid on the floor, taking his knees out and simultaneously pushing him into the next person whom you used your stick to hit directly at the centre of his head.

But you could sense a gun being aimed at you, and you dived behind the sofa to use as a shield. You heard glass shattering around you, and on the floor you found someone’s dropped mobile phone. You reached for it, and with aggressive force, sent it spinning through the air and hit the culprit in the eye, blinding him.

You came out of hiding and lunged your sticks at his throat.

You spun around to grab the neck of a semi-automatic and directed it upwards, causing bullets to spray across the club.

Your ears heard nothing but ringing for the next minute.

You pounded onto the guard’s chest using your sticks, and ended the attack with a blow to his temples.

You had counted five, so you reacted quickly to lock on your next target, but when you came out of your adrenaline induced tunnel vision, you noticed everyone else were already lying on the floor.

During the time you knocked out five men, Red Hood had already killed ten.

And now, he was left with a sobbing, begging Victor Ibenescu who was on his knees on the glass covered floor.

“What should I do with you, Vic?” Red Hood drawled, “I’ve already gutted your cousins, put some of them on display. And it was a pretty display, wasn’t it?”

You approached them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a whimpering Elena who was in a fetal position against a toppled over sofa, terror in her eyes.

“P-please,” Victor stuttered, “I promise I’ll shut down the operation, for real this time!”

“I don’t give second chances, Vic,” he told him, “Now I’m just thinking about whether I have the time to skin you alive before the cops show up.”

“Red Hood,” you called out, “You don’t need to. The cops are already on the way- hell, Batman is probably a couple of minutes out. We should leave.”

“And leave him here unpunished?” he jabbed the gun into Vic’s head, causing him to recoil from the heat of the muzzle. “I don’t think so.”

“Red-”

“Elena!” Red Hood barked, “Come here. Now.”

You saw Elena struggle to get onto her feet and limped her way to you.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Red Hood asked, “Should we leave him for the cops to find and deal with, or…”

He looked over to her and gently took her hand, handing her his own gun.

“Do you want to kill him?”

You gaped at Red Hood, just how Elena was.

“M-m-me?” she managed.

“Yes, you,” he confirmed.

“You can’t possibly make her-” you started.

“Don’t you think she’s the one who should decide what happens to him?” he cut you off.

Elena still looked shocked, and held the gun as if it was going to hurt her.

“Hey,” you approached her slowly, “You don’t have to. Once the police come, they’ll take him away and put him behind bars for the rest of his life. You don’t have to be scared anymore. They’ll help protect you.”

The poor girl was shaking so bad, you were worried she might set off the gun accidentally.

“No,” she whispered.

“Elena-” you tried.

“No!” she shrieked at you, causing you to stumble slightly back in surprise, “You- you don’t know. He do things to me! Again and again! He took me. I thirteen! Now I eighteen! No!”

You were utterly speechless. How could you reply to that?

She held the gun properly now, with two hands.

“He made me kill baby. Two times!” she sobbed.

Your heart broke.

She shuffled closer to him.

“Elena, my dear,” Victor started frantically begging, “You’ve always been my favourite. I’ve always treated you well, haven’t I?”

“No!”

BANG!

You heard Victor let out an inhuman screech.

Elena had shot him between the legs. Next to you, you heard Red Hood chuckle.

She pulled the trigger one last time, and crumpled onto the floor at the same time Victor did.

You wanted to approach her, comfort her, anything.

But Red Hood beat you to it.

“Listen to me,” he growled to get her attention since she was sobbing hysterically, “Are you listening?!”

She nodded.

“When the police come, you tell them that I made you shoot, alright? You tell them that I said I would rape you then gut you alive if you didn’t shoot him. You understand me?” he shook her.

“Y-yes,” she hiccuped.

“Repeat it. Tell me what you are going to tell them.”

“R-red Hood say he rape me and kill me if I no shoot,” she bawled.

“Good,” he nodded, “You did good, Elena.”

He then turned to you. “Let’s go.”

The two of you quickly rushed to the exit. You were just about to leave the club when-

“W-wait!” Elena called out, “Red Hood!”

He looked at her.

“T-thank you.”

He left without saying a word.

***

You were being really quiet in the car.

Jason thought that you were still shaken over what had happened.

Sure, maybe you saved people from being mugged or raped, and perhaps even some trafficked girls in the past.

But he was sure that those girls didn’t have the option Jason graciously gave Elena.

Jason thought that you were probably thinking about what those girls you saved in the past would have done if they were granted the same choice.

He sped up, hands gripped tight around the steering wheel. His body was still buzzing from leftover adrenaline, and he was itching for something.

An illegal car race. A good old fashioned hand-to-hand combat with somebody who could keep up with him. Hell, even a nice and long jerk off session.

He was bothered by the silence, despite being alone the whole time before this.

He put in a cassette and AC/DC started blasting through the speakers. He saw you jump at the sudden noise.

Somehow the ride back to the rendezvous point seemed longer than expected.

“Why do you still have a cassette player, and cassettes?” you spoke for the first time since the club.

“I’m old school that way,” he jested.

You ignored him and continued looking out the window.

That annoyed him.

Fuck, why was he so fidgety? Why did he want your fucking attention so much?

He felt like that kid in kindergarten who pulled on the pigtails of the girl he liked.

Finally, the both of you were back in the alleyway.

He turned off both the music and the engine, and took off his helmet. He combed through his hair with his hands and tossed the helmet in the backseat. He saw that you had taken your mask off as well, but hadn’t made a move to leave.

So he just sat there with you in silence, unsure of what to do or say- like a fucking idiot.

Fuck.

You were driving him crazy.

Thankfully, you broke the silence.

“What did your sources say about the Ibenescus’ still trafficking girls?” you wondered.

“There was a recent shipment of girls from Philippines, Thailand, Russia, and India,” he explained, “Only the Ibenescus’ would still have the guts to carry out the operation. Like Victor- may he rest in peace- had said, the Ibenescus’ are powerful. They have an international business they just can’t afford to sacrifice.”

“But since Victor is dead, someone else would just take his place,” you frowned in the dark, your outline illuminated only by the single dim street light from outside.

“And I’ll keep on killing every single one of them,” he grit.

“But like you said, it’s an international operation,” you argued, “Even if it was just the States, you can’t possibly stop every single operation under the Ibenescus out there.”

“Just like however much you and Batman patrol at night, you can’t stop every single crime, right?” he sneered.

You remained silent.

“It’s the same fucking thing,” Jason insisted, “Except that Elena got her justice. True and proper justice. Or are you telling me she made the wrong call? That she shouldn’t have shot his balls off and killed him after he raped her for years and made her abort her baby twice?”

“There must be some other way,” you muttered.

Jason was annoyed at how stubborn you were, but frankly he understood.

Because that’s what Batman did. He brainwashes you into thinking that his way was the only way.

“What if I told you that one fifth of the trafficked girls were aged below twelve?” he said softly, “What if I told you that the Ibenescus’ have been providing the elite pedophile rings with children? Would you want there to be some other way?”

You looked at him, shocked.

“Elite pedophile ring?” you gaped.

“Batman didn’t tell me either when I was Robin,” he grumbled, “It’s either he didn’t know about it, or he kept it a secret from us. And knowing him, I doubt it’s the former. Weren’t there days where he insisted on being alone?”

You frowned, taking in everything Jason had said. He was proud of himself. Just after a few hours with him, he could already see your resolve faltering.

“As long as I can clear Gotham of sex trafficking, as long as there are less girls like Elena here, and as long as there are no more children involved, I’m satisfied,” he continued, “That’s what I do. I give out justice and fix things. I know most victims like her don’t get the opportunity to get closure the way she did, so I’ll be the one to make that decision and carry it out for them.”

“Oh, so you’re supposedly Gotham’s savior, then? A fucking Angel of Death or something?” you answered sarcastically.

“Didn’t you hear Vic?” he chuckled, “I’m the fucking Dark King.”

You scoffed, and crossed your arms, still looking outside.

“You were pretty good with the sticks,” Jason commented, changing the subject. “Though definitely not as good as Dick.”

Fuck, why was he still talking to you?

“I don’t usually use them,” you shot him a glare that Jason thought was more cute than threatening, “I usually use Krav Maga.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with your subpar fighting skills,” he smirked.

“That’s not fair,” you huffed, “The Pit gave you peak human abilities. You can’t compare yourself to me.”

Of course Bruce knew it was the Pit that revived Jason.

“Baby girl, I was much better than you when I was Robin,” he poked.

Why was he teasing you like this? Flirting with you like he was normal?

Joking with you as if he wasn’t planning to hurt you?

“I doubt it,” you pouted.

Even in the dim light, Jason could still make out the shiny traces of lipgloss that were still left on your lips.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out a hand to your chin, and pressed his thumb against your lips, sticky from the lipgloss.

He saw the way your breath hitched in surprise, the way your eyes darted from his eyes to his lips, the way you gulped.

“Why do you like my lipgloss so much?” you spoke, lips brushing against his thumb.

Fuck.

“Because, baby girl,” he drawled and scooted closer to you, “Ever since day one, I kept on imagining your shiny, wet lips around my cock.”

A small gasp escaped your mouth.

Which made his cock start to fill up.

“Want to make my fantasies a reality, princess?” he smirked.

“Why would I?” you whispered, “I don’t owe you anything.”

“It’s not about owing me,” he came closer, now rubbing his thumb all over your lips, smudging your lipgloss, and picking up some of your spit. “It’s about helping each other out.”

He gripped your waist with his other hand, rubbing up and down through your armor.

“Didn’t you like last night?” he purred, gripping your thigh. He noticed how you easily spread them wider apart.

“Didn’t you come all over my cock?” he forced his thumb inside your mouth, hooking it at your lower teeth and forced your face closer to his.

“Didn’t you wear your lipgloss anyway just to get my attention?” he smirked.

He had expected you to pull away, or even bite his fucking finger, but to his surprise, your lips closed in on his thumb.

And you started sucking.

All while looking up at him with your innocent, puppy dog eyes.

And for some reason, even though it was just his one fucking thumb, he felt like he was being consumed by the warmth and the wetness and the fucking softness of your mouth.

Jason was in trouble now.

Because you had started swirling your tongue around his finger as you sucked.

Jason couldn’t hold back his groan.

And from the delight he saw you in your eyes, he already knew what type you were.

You were the type to get turned on by his pleasure, his approval, his praises.

Typical Robin complex.

“Baby girl,” he breathed, “I’m not going to come unless you do the exact same thing but with my cock instead.”

He smirked when you gave him an irritated look, but then-

“Ow! Fuck!” he snatched his hand away.

You fucking bit his finger.

Again.

And this time you were looking at him with complete smugness.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now, princess,” he growled. Then, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged you to him roughly, forcing his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you violently and grabbed your tits which were still covered by all your-

“Fuck, why do you wear so much fucking armor,” he gasped.

“Because I’d like to actually live in case I get shot,” you shot back at him.

Jason glared at you. He usually loved your attitude, but somehow he felt really irritated by you that night. You weren’t as snarky and confident the night before. Obviously you were less nervous, and less afraid of him.

He needed to change that.

In a flash, he pushed you hard against the locked door of his car, earning a shocked gasp from you. He crawled over to you , engulfing your body with his own.

It was hard to move in the car, but the compact setting made Jason feel like he was trapping you in a cage.

He put his hand around your neck and squeezed lightly while he attacked your mouth with his own again. This time, his kisses were less pretty.

He bit and nipped at your lips, your tongue, forcing both of your teeth to click together.

He could hear you panting hard, and moaning into his mouth, sometimes letting out soft whimpers.

“You trying to sass me, baby?” he breathed over your face, lips brushing against yours. He increased the force of his throttle.

“You forget who’s in charge here?” he whispered, appreciating the way your mouth just fucking fell open.

“Who’s in charge, princess?” he growled.

He saw your eyes roll upwards, your lids fluttering close, and felt your thighs squeeze together.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Were you getting fucking turned on by his choking?

“Y-you,” you said in stuttered breaths.

“That’s right, baby,” he let go of your neck, causing you to gasp for air.

Then, Jason leaned back against the door on his side, and parted his legs.

He was glad the Impala’s seats were joined, without any annoying bumps that parted the passenger and driver’s seat. It allowed more room to move around.

Once he saw you catch your breath, he patted to the spot between his legs.

“My cock ain’t gonna suck itself,” he smirked.

He could see the fire in your eyes as you came over to him, bent on all fours. You laid on the seat on your belly, your mouth close to his cock that was borderline becoming extremely painful.

He had to wear protective cups while he worked, which meant that getting an erection was excruciating.

He tilted his head in curiosity when he saw you stare at his thigh holsters, biting your lower lip.

“You see something you like?” he teased.

Your gaze snapped back at him, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. You ignored his question and started working on his belt buckle.

Once they were off, you impatiently pulled his pants down, but was puzzled when you saw his jockstraps.

He almost laughed when he saw the confusion etched on your features.

“They’re just like normal briefs, baby, but with extra protection,” he winked, cupped his junk, and gave it a little shake to make a point.

“I- I knew that,” you fumbled, and went to hook your fingers in the elastic waistband. You brought them down with some difficulty, as they were tight.

But Jason enjoyed seeing you struggle, so he let you figure it out.

And boy, the look on your face when you finally took his cock out.

He hissed at the relief when his cock slapped back onto his lower abdomen when it was free, but your expression made him chuckle.

“Did- did I really have that inside me last night?” your voice went up an octave.

“Inside you, and outside, and inside, and outside,” he gave you a shit eating grin.

“Very funny,” you glared, but gulped again at the sight of his erection, “Jeez. No wonder I couldn’t walk properly all day.”

“And I assure you, every single time I fuck you, you wouldn’t be able to- ah, fuck!” he got cut off by the pleasure that suddenly shot up his spine when you gripped his shaft hard.

He looked at you and saw you gave the same cheeky grin back.

Fucking hell.

You bent down, and gave a small experimental lick at the tip of his cock. He could see the way your eyebrows knitted together, how your eyes were so full of fucking contemplation. Like you were thinking of a strategy to make him come undone.

You started lapping your tongue a few more times over the head of his penis before taking the tip into your mouth and started sucking softly.

Jason groaned, and then reached his hand to tangle into your hair. Not to control your movements, not to show you how it’s done, but just because he needed to grip something.

From the tip, he saw you let your saliva drool down his shaft, making it glisten. Then, you sunk down and took more of him in. You got too ambitious, because you went down too fast and then he felt you gag around his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he felt your fucking throat try to push him out, “Take it slow, baby. We have all night.”

You released him from your mouth and gasped for air, a string of saliva connecting his tip to your mouth, tears streaming down your face, eyes and nose red.

Shit.

It was a fucking sight, alright.

“I-I’m sorry,” you sputtered, “I wasn’t sure- I don’t- it’s my first time.”

And holy hell, did Jason’s heart flutter at your innocent apology.

“It’s okay,” he wiped the tears from your cheeks like he was your lover, like he fucking cared. “It feels great when you gag on my cock, but you don’t have to take it all in at once. Here.”

He pushed your head back down to take him in rough, but not too rough.

Jason needed to be a little forceful, a little violent with you. He needed to hide the fact that you sucking on his cock for the first time didn’t flick a switch of emotion within him.

“You take in as much as you can,” he panted, “And your hand can do the rest.”

He wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft.

“So when you go up,” he pulled your hair to guide you up his length, slick with your spit and his precum.

“Your hand follows your mouth,” he gripped your hand and moved it upwards as well, following the motion. “And don’t forget to suck.”

He saw that you got the hang of it pretty fast, and soon, Jason was groaning and moaning, and tugging at your hair.

He fought hard to not cant his hips upwards and start fucking your mouth. He fought hard to be considerate, to not hurt you, to not give you too much of what you could handle.

He didn’t want a repeat of the night before.

Yet, the fire in his belly and the dark voices inside his head told him to grip your head with both his hands and fucking use your mouth like a toy.

But, no. Jason was in control. And he didn’t want that. Not tonight.

He saw that you were watching him as you bobbed your head in motion, and he knew you were enjoying the sight of him. He felt vulnerable to you, open and exposed.

He hated that feeling. The shame of being laid out like that when someone was watching him-it made him feel small and guilty.

But the shame and humiliation and guilt was what made the whole thing more enjoyable.

Soon enough, he felt the familiar feeling of his gut tightening, his toes curling in his steel boots.

“Stop,” he rasped, pulling you away.

You looked at him with worry in your eyes that made Jason almost come anyway.

“I- I was close,” he explained.

“Isn’t that the point?” you smirked.

“Wanna fuck you first,” he murmured.

Then, you started blushing.

“Uhm, it still hurts a lot from yesterday,” you answered sheepishly, biting your lip awkwardly.

It reminded Jason of how you were with him the first time he met you at the library, how you were shy and a blushing mess, when you didn’t know his identity. It seemed so long ago, and for the first time, he wished things could go back to being that way.

“Fine,” he gruffed, “Come back down here, then.”

When you started sucking on him again, he added, “Didn’t know you were so weak. Thought you’d be used to getting thrown around by now.”

It really wasn’t fair for him to say that, and he knew it was hurtful.

But he wasn’t the good guy in this story.

You shot him a glare, and then popped his dick out.

“Jason, my mouth was around your cock when you said that, and if I were to accidentally bite you, well,” you retorted.

“You wouldn’t do that, baby,” he chuckled.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because, princess,” he drawled, and forced you to continue sucking, “My cock- ungh- is your favourite part of me, isn’t it?”

And as if you conceded, admitting he was right, you started to suddenly increase the pace. Filthy wet sounds filled the car as Jason heard the sound of rain in the background, and noticed that the inside of his windows had started to fog up.

Your warm, wet mouth consumed him whole, and he felt his balls tighten and tighten.

“Baby,” he gasped, “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

Despite his warnings, you still went on, as if you were determined to finish your job.

He groaned loud and long as he spilled his cum inside your mouth.

He felt you fucking drink it up.

Fuck.

When he was done blowing his load, you were giving him soft, gentle licks on his now sensitive cock.

And you then you sat up and smiled proudly.

“You waiting for me to give you a candy, or some shit?” he snickered, “Or a gold star?”

“Maybe you should,” you huffed and crossed your arms, sitting back properly in the passenger seat.

Jason put his pants back on, and sat up as well.

But then he noticed you squirming slightly, your respiratory rate fast, small pants escaping you. You were clenching your thighs together.

He smirked.

He reached out and caressed your cheek with one finger.

“Want me to help you out?” he offered.

“I’m fine,” you said, “I’ll deal with it later. I should go back soon. What time is it?”

“Almost two,” he glanced at the dashboard clock.

“Batman and Nightwing are probably just leaving the club by now,” you said out loud, “I’m sure they’ll keep on patrolling, though. Unless they got a clue.”

“Clue?”

“Yeah,” you hummed absentmindedly, looking outside at the rain.

You remained silent for a while.

Jason hated the silence.

Then-

“It’s your face, by the way,” you started.

“What?”

“Your face. My favourite part of you,” you avoided Jason’s eyes.

Jason was taken aback at your confession.

Why would his face be your favourite part? He had scars all over, eyebags and bloodshot eyes, and he was pretty sure his nose was more crooked than average.

“You’re good looking,” you said as if you were mad.

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” Jason blurted before he could stop himself.

You blinked at him in surprise.

Fuck.

He fucked up.

He wanted to punch himself.

What were the two of you doing? It wasn’t like it was a fucking date. It wasn’t like he cared about you that way. It wasn’t like he wanted you all to himself, and never let go.

Fuck.

He was done being the charming, kind, gentleman Jason Haywood.

So why was he still acting like he was?

***

“Where were you?” Dick demanded when you opened the door.

He was still in his Nightwing uniform, sans the mask.

“What?”

“Alfred said you weren’t around, and you left your phone at home,” he persisted, “Where did you go?”

“I got some junk,” you pointed to the big bag of junk food on your bed.

“Alfred said he noticed you weren’t around at midnight, and you only just got back an hour ago. It took you almost three hours just to get junk?” he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Fine,” you conceded, “I went to see Carter.”

“Why did you leave your phone?”

“I forgot, okay?” you exasperatedly flailed your hands. “I’m grounded from patrol, not from going out. What’s the big deal?”

Dick frowned at you.

Your heart was beating so hard you were afraid he could hear it.

“Where did you meet him?” he continued to interrogate.

There were no more room for half truths.

“Robinson Park,” you answered, “We spent some time in his car. Lost track of time. And- you know what? I don’t even need to tell you all of this! It’s none of your business, Dick.”

“There was someone new with Jason tonight,” he stated.

Fuck.

“Someone new?” you repeated, tilting your head in feigned curiosity.

“A girl,” he continued, “She’s skilled.”

You frowned. “Who is she?”

“Eye witness said she calls herself V,” he told you, “She uses escrima sticks and a form of arnis and silat hybrid.”

“Hmm,” you pondered, “And? Is she someone you and Jason knew?”

“We’ve been wondering about that,” he muttered.

Your eyes widen.

“You think that was me?!” you shrieked.

“You tell me!” Dick retorted.

“Why, Dick?” you shouted, “Why?”

“You were out for god knows how long and suddenly Jason has a girl with your knowledge of martial arts at his side?” he snarled, “What else am I supposed to think?”

“One, fucking anyone could learn martials arts!” you argued, “Two, I was out with Carter yesterday as well! There wasn’t anyone with Red Hood yesterday!”

“Red Hood wasn’t seen yesterday,” he debated, “And you haven’t even shown me a picture of this Carter you’re seeing. What’s his last name? Where is he from? You need to tell me. You need to tell me the truth.”

“I am,” you grit, “You need to figure out your bullshit, Dick!”

“What?”

“I get it, okay,” you sighed, and sat down on your bed, “Jason, your brother, he betrayed your trust. He’s angry at Bruce, but why didn’t he come to you?”

Dick simply looked at you.

“You trusted Jason when he was Robin, as family,” you explained, “The way you trusted me. And now that trust is destroyed, you’re questioning me as well.”

You looked at him with a sad smile.

“I’m not like Jason, Dick,” you tried to convince him, “I’m me. I’m your sister. I have no reason to hurt you or Bruce. I love you both. Okay?”

Dick stared at you, and you saw tears pooling his eyes.

That made your heart sink to your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he blinked away the tears, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you got up and hugged him. He hugged you back tightly, pressing his cheek into the top of your head, “I love you, Dick. I’ll help you guys out with this, okay? I mean, I know I’m not as good as either of you, but I’ll try.”

“Yeah,” he sniffled, “Thank you. Can’t wait for you to get back in uniform.”

“Me too,” you replied, holding back your own tears while you thought about how fucked you were.

[badgersprite]

Fic: Desiderata (7/?)

 Chapter Title: Messages

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Miranda, Samara, Oriana, Jacob, Jack

Pairing: Miranda/Samara very slow burn, friends to lovers

Story Rating: R

Warnings: References to past childhood abuse/trauma.

Chapter Summary: In 2186, Miranda gets a series of messages. Two are positive. One isn’t. In 2185, The Normandy faces the Suicide Mission. For some, the name is more fitting than anyone realises.

Author’s Note: Now that they’ve announced a new Mass Effect game, I should really buckle down and get chapters out at a faster rate, huh?

* * *

If adjusting to living with a bunch of teenagers had been a difficult prospect from the start, it only became more so once they settled in and learned that Miranda was an actual human being rather than some stern caricature. They knew now that she wasn’t as cold as she had come off initially, and that her snarky remarks lacked any real bite. Consequently, they no longer felt even remotely intimidated by her. Plus, they seemed to have suddenly twigged that they vastly outnumbered her.

Ever since they’d realised all that, getting them to cooperate and behave themselves was a damn sight harder.

“I dunno, man. For a humourless grump with half a face, she's still smokin’ hot,” Miranda heard one of the boys, Deacon Winters, remark as she emerged from her room that morning. “Oh. Hi, Miss,” Deacon said when he saw her heading to the kitchen, evidently believing she'd missed his comment.

“Stop calling me that,” Miranda instructed, but it fell on deaf ears just as it had the last dozen times she’d said the exact same thing. Truth be told, in that moment, Miranda was more concerned with breakfast than the behaviour of Jack’s students. So she rolled her eye and moved on, letting it slide.

If there was one particular luxury she was looking forward to returning when the galaxy recovered from its near-extermination, it was restaurants. Cafés. Places to eat actual food again. Real, good-quality meals, made by other people.

The way things were, everyone was subsisting on staples and rations, aside from the occasional “luxury” food items sold through the black market, which everyone knew about but nobody cared to stop. The sad fact of it all was that the only reason their food stockpiles might be enough to last the winter was because so many people had died after the Reapers attacked Earth. That and because a lot of the excess soldiers hanging around London had finally moved elsewhere, shifting the burden so it wasn’t all in one place.

Speaking of food, the sound of cereal crunching across the room caught Miranda’s attention just as she finished draining her noodles. Her eye widened.

“Are you eating on my couch?” said Miranda, like Deacon had committed a crime just a hair's breadth away from aggravated murder. He froze, a droplet of reconstituted milk dripping down his chin, a spoonful of cereal still in his mouth. “In what bizarre alternate universe is that okay? Go eat at the table like a civilised human being,” she ordered, her already low tolerance levels quickly waning.

“Aw, Miss,” Deacon protested, stretching out the word to make it as grating as possible.

“Keep whinging like that and you can find somewhere else to live,” Miranda warned him. The two students rolled their eyes before reluctantly picking up their bowls and heading to the table, not quite brave enough to test the idleness of her threat. “When you're done, you can vacuum up the crumbs, too,” she told them, limping across to the table with her own breakfast in hand, leaving her cane against the kitchen counter. She may have been gradually softening to her new housemates, but she had her limits.

Just as she started to eat, Prangley and Rodriguez both emerged from their room in shared laughter. When they spotted Miranda there, they paused sheepishly, as if they'd been caught in the midst of some minor conspiracy. Miranda arched her eyebrow, but ignored them.

The two exchanged hushed whispers, tittering and nudging each other like gossipy hens. Prangley seemed to make up his mind about something, Rodriguez giggling and lightly slapping his arm as if to discourage him, but it was clear she wholeheartedly wanted to see what would happen.

“Hey, Miss,” Prangley began. Miranda despised that damn title. She swore they used it on purpose, to deliberately irk her. “Me and the others—”

“The others and I,” Miranda corrected without glancing up.

“Right, well, we've been wondering a couple things,” Prangley continued, sitting down at the table, his posture impolite and uncultivated, eager to pry into the mind of their impromptu protector. “After all, since we’re already living together, it’s only fair and reasonable that we should have the right to ask some questions and get to know some stuff about you as a person, right?” 

Miranda didn’t dignify that with a response, continuing to eat.

“We've noticed the only reason you ever leave the apartment is for work. You never bring anyone home, except Mr. Taylor, and the only other person you ever speak to is your sister,” Prangley pointed out.

“I mean, we’re know you're kinda, well...” In place of saying anything unintentionally offensive, Rodriguez vaguely gestured at the left side of her own face. The implication was not lost in translation. “But you've still gotta have a personal life, right?” she asked, probing for information.

Sensing where this was going, Miranda merely stared at them, as if finding their attempts to rile her tiresome, and beneath recognition.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” asked Prangley.

No reaction.

“Girlfriend?”

No reaction.

“Secret alien lover?”

No reaction.

“Synthetic sex buddy?”

No reaction.

“Would you like one?”

No reaction.

“I could hook you up—”

“Are you done?” asked Miranda, deeply bored by this.

“Yeah, I guess,” said Prangely, Rodriguez also giving up and deciding to focus on food instead. While Miranda was certainly easy to irritate on a surface level, actually getting under her skin was far harder than it looked. She wondered if she should remind them that she had worked with Jack; if Miranda could endure her at her most intentionally aggravating, then she could tolerate the trolling of these teenagers.

“Ah, fuck!” Rodriguez cursed, accidentally dropping a carton of artificial orange juice as she pulled it out of the fridge, spilling it everywhere on the floor. “I’m so sorry, Miss. I’ll clean that right up!” she hastily apologised, salvaging what little remained of the juice before scrambling over to the cupboard for a mop.

Miranda suppressed the urge to groan, not even seeing the point in wasting her energy on making a critical comment by that stage. She wished she was at work. The only reason she wasn't was because Bailey had insisted she take weekends off. Much as she understood his good intentions, she thoroughly disagreed that spending time at home could be considered relaxing in light of her tenants. At this rate, being thrown into the fucking sun would be preferable.

Why had she signed up for this again?

Suddenly, her omni-tool beeped, alerting her to a new text message on her datapad. It was Oriana. Despite the chaos going on around her, Miranda couldn’t hide her smile. This was the one silver lining she’d been holding out for to make this whole “day off” thing worth it.

“Excuse me,” she said, endeavouring to lead by example when it came to matters of etiquette, even if it was proving fruitless.

“Here, Miss. Let me get that for you,” another boy offered, the one named Nitin, reaching out to clear her plate for her. He was the one who had that ridiculous crush on her. Miranda found it annoying and tedious, as one might expect. But it was harmless, she supposed. And at least it was compelling him towards trying to be on his best behaviour around her, if nothing else.

“Thank you,” she said with a curt, almost stilted nod. She’d made a conscious effort to remind herself to express gratitude where she otherwise wouldn’t, if only as part of her efforts to train her wards to meet minimum standards of politeness. With that, she returned to the privacy of her bedroom.

Three sets of male eyes watched her leave, waiting for the door to close before speaking. “I don't care how fucked up her face is – I'd still hit it,” Nitin said, earning a dishcloth thrown his way by Rodriguez.

Miranda took a breath, attempting to release some of her tension as she sat down in her bedroom. She'd been looking forward to this, as she did every time Oriana's messages came through. She wanted to be able to enjoy it without stress souring the moment.

After a few seconds, she opened the message app and began typing back.

*     *     *

It had been a trap.

Activating the Reaper IFF had given away their location. The Collectors attacked while their guard was down. The squad had returned to find the entire crew gone except Joker. And EDI, obviously. 

Miranda was doing her best to keep a level head and remain calm and logical in her assessment of what had transpired. Someone had to, after all. But it was hard not to take this attack personally. It felt like a violation, to have their ship boarded when they weren’t even there to do anything about it.

Perhaps it was for the best. If they’d been there, they might all have perished too. With the squad intact, at least they still had a chance of defeating the Collectors, crew or no crew.

Shepard had made the call. There was no waiting around. They were going to jump through the Omega-4 Relay now, while there might still be a chance to get the crew back. It was do or die. 

Everyone had made their final preparations, ensuring weapons and ammunition were in order. There was nothing left but time now - it was simply a matter of getting to the Omega system. Everyone seemed to have gone off to do their own thing, spending what could have been their final few hours alive as they chose.

Miranda had contemplated sending a heartfelt message to her sister, even started typing a long email detailing the truth of how she’d found her, answering any questions she might want to know about her past and admitting everything Oriana meant to her. Once she got about halfway through, she thought better of it, though. The last thing she wanted to do was worry Oriana. And this felt too much like a goodbye. Like an expectation that she wouldn’t return. And Miranda refused to consider that, much less worry her sister with the thought.

It had been, what, a little over two months since they reunited? They had only just begun to form the relationship Miranda always secretly wanted deep down. There was so much still left to do. So much still left to say to each other. For that reason alone, Miranda couldn’t allow herself to fail this mission. Death was not an option.

This mission to stop the Collectors was going to succeed. It had to. Shepard had done everything that she possibly could have done to prepare. Things that even Miranda honestly wouldn’t have considered before she became Shepard’s second-in-command. Recruiting every squad member recommended by Cerberus. Upgrading the ship. Ensuring every member of her squad had no unfinished business to distract them from the mission.

Whatever it might cost them, they were not going to lose this fight. They couldn’t.

But, if worst did come to worst, at least she knew Oriana would be taken care of. Miranda had put those arrangements in place, just to be safe. But telling Oriana that now would come across as extremely grim.

However, despite all that, she couldn’t help but ask herself, what if she didn’t come back? Miranda couldn’t bear the thought of Oriana not having one final word from her. If this was her last opportunity to say something, then surely she had to take advantage of it, even if she had to be careful not to give the impression that the mission the Normandy was about to embark on was far from a normal one.

With that in mind, she opened a fresh email once more and typed.

Hey, Ori.

Just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you. 

We should talk soon. 

I love you.

- Miranda.

It was laconic, but that was Miranda. And that would have to do. Anything more and she wouldn’t be able to stop.

After that, with nothing left to do except pass the time, she poured herself a drink at the bar, and retreated to the Starboard Observation Deck to wait out these last remaining hours.

Miranda found it empty. But that was no deterrent. Content to wait, Miranda settled onto her usual comfortable spot on the couch and nursed her drink, staring out into the void.

It was maybe twenty minutes before Miranda heard the doors slide open. The familiar reflection in the transparent aluminium window confirmed it was Samara. Judging by her slight hesitation in the doorway, Samara was a little surprised to find her there. And yet, at the same time, unsurprised.

Samara uttered a soft sigh as she moved to accompany Miranda on the lounge, sharing in the serene view. Miranda didn’t feel the need to disturb the peace with any questions, remnants of ice cubes clinking softly against glass. She simply assumed the reason for Samara’s absence was to contact Falere and Rila one last time. Of course it was. And it wasn’t her place to pry about that.

Several long seconds passed before Samara deigned to break the quiet.

“The ambient noise that used to fill this ship never reached this room, yet somehow the silence has never felt so...” Samara trailed off, as if the appropriate word was at the fringes of her consciousness, eluding her.

“Silent?” Miranda offered.

A sad shadow of a smile crossed Samara’s lips. “Yes.”

“I understand what you mean,” Miranda admitted. “Jacob and I met most of the crew long before anyone else did. I didn’t think much of that before. You know me; I’m not exactly a people person, am I? Now that they’ve been taken, though...well, I suppose you don’t realise how accustomed you’ve become to seeing the same faces every day until suddenly you don’t.”

It was a strange sensation. And, by all rights, it shouldn’t have been new to her.

Miranda had spent longer periods than this living with consistent groups of people. The Lazarus Project itself had taken nearly two years. And all those familiar faces had been outright slaughtered. But this was different. She hadn’t felt anything then. Back then, her only mission, her only focus, had been bringing Shepard back to life. The lives and deaths of the people at that facility had never been her responsibility, or her concern.

This time, they were. As second-in-command of the Normandy, and the highest ranking member of Cerberus there, on some level every aspect of every little thing that went on aboard this ship had been her responsibility. Her endless reports to The Illusive Man were evidence of how seriously she had taken that.

Somewhere in between all these months adrift in space, there had been a shift in her mentality. Day by day, that sense of separation between herself and the others had been chipped away. At some point, she stopped seeing everyone else around her as assets and liabilities in Cerberus’s mission to stop the Collectors, and started seeing them all as living, breathing parts of her world - little pieces of the life she’d carved out for herself aboard the Normandy.

Miranda hadn’t realised it until just now. Hell, she hadn’t even known she was capable of it. But, for the first time in her life, Miranda had grown attached to the people around her. And that fact didn’t appear to be lost on Samara.

“Are you alright?” she asked her.

Miranda uttered a short laugh, but it was entirely cheerless. That question was impossible to answer the way Samara probably wanted it to be answered. Of course Miranda wasn’t alright, but she wasn’t not alright either. She was just in the same neutral state she was usually in, trying to find a balanced equilibrium amid the ambivalence. Others would have misconstrued it for apathy.

“Obviously, it’s not ideal that we’ve lost so many,” Miranda began, a deliberate understatement. “But we can't afford to get distracted. They knew what they were signing on for. We all did. So the mission parameters have to remain the same.”

“You do not need to pretend the life or death of this crew makes no difference to you,” Samara pointed out, sensing perhaps that Miranda’s concern for the lost was deeper than she let on, whether because she was unwilling to show it, or, more likely, because she didn’t know how to.

“Of course it does,” said Miranda. “I may not be a shining beacon of empathy, but, if I didn't care about human life, I wouldn't have spent the last few months out here trying to protect it from the Collectors. But that's the point; if it's a choice between the lives of our crew, and destroying the Collectors...It's not really a choice at all, is it? Dozens of lives versus millions.”

“It sounds as though you have already decided that is a sacrifice you will have to make,” Samara noted, her tone as ever elusive and impossible to read. But, evidently, she was not yet equally resigned to accepting the worst.  

“I'm Shepard’s second-in-command, Samara. I have to be prepared, and I have to be ready to make the ‘heartless’ rational decision if it comes down to it. If I'm not, how the hell is anyone else going to be?” Miranda asked rhetorically.

Sure, there was still a chance they’d find their crew alive. Acting as swiftly as they had meant there was still hope. But if they were too late, or they couldn’t find them, then Miranda couldn’t let emotions cloud her judgement. She was perhaps the one person on this team Shepard could trust to remain cool-headed and objective no matter the circumstance. It was arguably her best quality. She didn’t plan on letting it slip when it may be needed most.

“I’m not sure why I’m explaining this to you. You understand better than anyone that it serves no one to let sentiment get in the way of the greater good,” Miranda noted, glancing over to her companion beside her on the lounge.

“I do,” Samara acknowledged, respecting Miranda’s clarity of thought in these trying times. “Adherence to the Code is always paramount. If it requires me to take a certain action, then that is what must be done, irrespective of my own personal thoughts or feelings. If I waiver in the moment, if I so much as hesitate because I question, or doubt, or second-guess, then I have failed.”

“That doesn’t sound easy,” Miranda thought aloud. Sure, Miranda had never been accused of second-guessing herself once committed to a course of action, but whenever she made those same split-second decisions, those had always been her choices to make. No external force could ever compel her to do something she found truly objectionable. She was too stubborn and individualistic to voluntarily surrender her ability to think for herself. Her agency was too important to her, after spending so much of her life without it. 

“For me, it was the hardest aspect of becoming a Justicar,” Samara admitted. “It was difficult to train my body to become a weapon, but it was harder to train my mind. I have heard the same sentiment from many others. Most take decades, even centuries, to prove that they can subordinate their own will to that of the Code. Others never pass that test. Had I gone to them at any other time in my life, I believe that would have been my fate.”

Miranda watched her as she spoke, saying nothing. She knew too well just how broken Samara had been when she chose this path. Perhaps a younger Samara would have been more like Miranda - too arrogant, egotistical and argumentative to submit to a single set of rules. But the Samara who came to them had lost everything. Almost a blank slate. Barely enough of a self left to let go.

“And yet I do not envy you the burden of leadership,” Samara continued, meeting Miranda’s gaze, breaking her from her thoughts. “To know that you are not only responsible for your own welfare, but that your choices affect those under your command, that is something I have never faced.”

“Never?” Miranda arched a brow, finding that difficult to believe.

A faint glimmer twinkled in Samara’s eye. “Never,” she confirmed. “I have long suspected this is the reason why Justicars are most often tasked to work alone. Our solitary nature removes the possibility of an internal conflict where one must choose between the desires of the self - in this case, to protect the life of a friend - and upholding the Code. Perhaps it is for the best.”

“You're not alone right now,” Miranda pointed out.

“No, I am not,” Samara replied, a gentle warmth emanating from her words, despite the sombre situation in which they both found themselves.

“Well, this is what we’re here for. Everything we’ve done up to this point, this is what it was all in aid of,” Miranda noted, thinking back over the past several months, and the innumerable adventures The Normandy SR-2 and its crew had undergone in that time. All the new faces they’d recruited. All the remote planets they’d visited. All the people they’d helped. And every inconsequential part of it had led to this one final assault on the Collector Base. Her fingers idly traced patterns on the rim of her glass, mostly untouched. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” Samara answered honestly. “I have been at peace with the inevitability of my own end for a long time. The Goddess will take me into her embrace when my moment comes to pass. If that time is now, then I am grateful that my final few months have transpired in the way that they have. I could not have chosen a more worthy cause for which to give my life, nor greater comrades to fight beside.”

Miranda didn’t doubt that Samara meant it. She had been bravely risking her life for a long time. Far, far longer than Miranda had been alive. At least now, if she fell in battle, she no longer had to fear that she would be leaving behind unfinished business, in the form of Morinth. 

“Are you?” Samara asked Miranda in return.

“No.” Miranda shook her head. Samara held her stare, somehow sensing that wasn’t entirely true. Miranda’s resolve visibly weakened. “...A little,” she reluctantly admitted, cradling her half-full drink between her hands. “But it’s not the thought of dying that scares me. What scares me is that...for the first time in my life, I finally have something to lose. I’ve only just met my sister; we’ve barely had time to talk yet, let alone get to know each other. And, as insane as this would have sounded to me six months ago, I have people in my life now who I genuinely consider friends. That’s...That’s not something I’ve ever had before.”

“You have found people you care about. And people who truly care about you,” Samara surmised, wisdom glistening in her eyes.

“I have. And...I never thought I’d say this, but now that I finally have it, that’s not something I’m willing to give up,” Miranda acknowledged. To be honest, the thought of letting this all just slip through her fingers terrified her. Not only her connections to the people themselves, but losing her elusive grasp on the better, happier person she was becoming through having known them.

“Then I am relieved,” said Samara, earning a confused look from Miranda. “Because, if there is one thing that I have learned about you, Miranda, it is that, when you are fully committed to something, you are unstoppable. If your heart’s truest desire is to ensure you return safely to those you cherish most, then I am not only reassured that we will be the victors in this fight, but moreover I am certain that you will survive.”

At that, Miranda uttered a faint chuckle, flattered by Samara’s unshakeable faith in her. “Thank you. That’s...I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me,” she said softly, still feeling some uncharacteristic pre-mission jitters about the battle that lay ahead, but comforted by Samara’s confidence. 

“Miranda.” Samara extended a hand and placed it gently atop Miranda’s knee, compelling her to look into her eyes. “For so long as I am able, I promise to do everything in my power to ensure that you prevail through what awaits us. No harm will come to you, if I am able to prevent it.”

As Samara held her gaze, Miranda was at a loss for words. Even if she could find them, her tongue felt like it was tied in a knot, rendering her unable to speak. It was an alien sensation for her, though not an entirely unpleasant one, as a sudden warmth rushed to her cheeks. She genuinely didn’t know how to react to such kind words, given that she wasn’t used to hearing them.

“Yeah, well...same to you,” was Miranda’s painfully awkward but heartfelt response, lightly nudging Samara’s arm with her own. “...I mean it, you know?”

“As do I,” Samara assured her, content that she had said what she needed to say, and that the sincerity of her message had not been lost in translation. “But, please...do not endanger your life for mine.”

Those humble words hit Miranda like a brick. “What?” She blinked in shock, taking several seconds to confirm that her ears weren’t playing tricks on her, and that she had heard that request correctly. “Samara--”

“Please.” Samara quietly interjected, her demeanour eerily serene considering the macabre subject. “There is no reason to speak of this with apprehension. I have lived a very long life. One way or another, my years are coming to an end before too long. And I am content with that.”

“You could live just as long as I could,” Miranda reminded her. Well, maybe that was generous. Based on predictive models, it was conceivable that Miranda could live into her early two-hundreds, barring external factors. But it wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility for Samara to live for another century. That was roughly as long as any other human on this ship could hope to live.

“Perhaps. But you are still in your Summer days, and will be for a long time yet to come. You have reached only a fraction of your potential. Whereas I…” Samara paused and trailed off for a brief moment, her gaze shifting as she searched for the right words. “For centuries, I have known only Winter. Even so, I have done what I set out to do, and fulfilled the oath I made to my Order. If this day is destined to be my last, then I can say without falsity that I am satisfied with what I leave behind. And I am blessed to know others like yourself will live on when I am gone. So, I ask this of you.” Samara reached down and gently clasped Miranda’s hands between both of her own, glass and all. “Do not sacrifice your years for mine. Please. I would not be able to forgive myself if you perished for my sake.”

Miranda exhaled slowly. That was a lot to process all at once. And she did not like what she was hearing. But, as Samara’s words sank in, the more she understood what it meant to her, and why this was so important to her.

If it comforted Samara to go into this battle believing that her much younger allies would outlive her if she fell, then what audacity would it take for Miranda not to respect those wishes, particularly if the worst did come to pass? Miranda couldn’t take that calming belief away from her. Not now, when the last thing any of them needed was to be plagued by upsetting thoughts.

“Okay. I can promise you I won’t do anything foolish, or throw my life away,” Miranda somewhat reluctantly warranted. That went without saying. “But, if you expect me not to watch out for you or not to do my best to keep you safe, then I’m sorry but I can’t. I will be trying to bring you home. And if you don’t want it to be for the sake of our friendship, then fine. It won’t be for that. It will be because you’re still a part of this team, and I owe you that duty regardless. And I can’t shirk that responsibility, no matter how much you want me to.”

Samara nodded, letting Miranda’s hands fall from her grasp. “Very well. I am content with that. I would never ask you to betray your responsibilities.”

“Good.” Miranda gave a short nod, because that was as much of a concession as Samara was going to get. Abandoning her would never be on the table.

It occurred to Miranda then that, despite their mutual intentions to watch each other’s backs and do what they could to see each other through whatever lay ahead, she couldn’t fault Samara for making peace with the possibility of her own demise. As optimistic as they were both trying to be in their own ways, there was still a chance that this conversation would be their last.

Following that thought, Miranda realised that this was, in all respects, her only guaranteed opportunity to confess a secret she’d been hiding from Samara - that she’d gone digging through her past without her permission. She’d long been telling herself that she needed to apologise for that, and would do it when the time was right. As much as she had found reasons to avoid that issue over the past few weeks, Miranda did want to make amends before it was too late. 

“Samara…” Miranda began with a heavier tone to her quiet voice, ready to admit to her mistakes. However, as soon as she started to speak, she thought better of it. There was so little time left before they would make their attack on The Collector Base. The last thing she wanted to do was tell Samara something hurtful, knowing it might weigh on her mind throughout the fight, and distract her from their goals.

If Samara wasn’t completely focused, there was a chance she wouldn’t be at her best. And that was a risk Miranda couldn’t afford to take. If Samara didn’t make it out of this because of something Miranda told her...even the very thought of that made her sick to her stomach.

Samara sat before her, patient and calm, giving Miranda as much time as she needed to find the words she wanted to say. Miranda sighed, recognising that she didn’t have it in her heart to tell Samara something that could only serve to hurt her, at least not at that moment.

“...Thank you,” was what Miranda settled on. And there was nothing false about her gratitude. “I’ve, um...I haven’t had a lot of friends in my life. Or any, really. So, um...knowing you has....”

Miranda stopped herself and uttered a faint sigh of frustration as she ran a hand through her hair, struggling to find the right words. It wasn’t a problem she was accustomed to. She didn’t lack the vocabulary. But, then again, she’d never had to say anything like this. She’d never had a friend like Samara before.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’ve genuinely helped me become a better person than I was before I met you,” Miranda confessed, conscious of how much colder and less empathetic she had been before she started spending time with Samara, and how much she’d learned about herself through this friendship. And yet not once in all that time had Samara ever made Miranda feel like the person she already was wasn’t good enough. She’d always accepted her. Flaws and all. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you were willing to be so patient with me sometimes, but you were. So...from the bottom of my heart, thank you. For everything.”

Samara offered a small smile in return. “You have nothing to thank me for. And, even if you had, your friendship has been more than I could ever repay.”

Miranda gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Liar,” she jokingly remarked, confident that she had gained infinitely more from Samara’s friendship than Samara had gained from hers in return. Not that it seemed to matter. 

“Miranda,” Samara spoke first, interrupting the silence before Miranda could continue. “It occurs to me that there are but a scant few hours left before we jump through the Omega Relay.”

“You’re right. We should focus. Get ourselves in the right headspace,” Miranda replied, putting her glass aside, getting up from the couch and moving over to her usual spot on the floor, straightening her back in anticipation of a meditation session. Talking had been nice, but they did need to concentrate. Clear their heads. Sharpen their senses. Prepare their biotics.

Samara’s amused expression was reflected in the window. “That is not...Well, you are not mistaken in assuming that I intended to meditate in readiness for the battle that lies ahead,” Samara spoke, sounding a little thrown by Miranda’s reaction, but not in an unpleasant way. “However, what I meant to say to you is that, to the extent you are able, you should spend this time as you wish.”

“...I’m already doing that,” Miranda answered frankly, glancing back over her shoulder. It hadn’t even been a question where she would go once she left her office. By that point, it shouldn’t have even needed to be said between them that there was nowhere else on the ship she would rather be.

Samara smiled, accepting her answer. “Then I am glad.”

With that, Samara moved to join Miranda on the floor, channelling her biotics through her hands, warming up in anticipation that her abilities would be needed soon. Miranda quieted her mind, already knowing that she would need to be at her sharpest and most alert. Everyone would be counting on her not to make any mistakes, especially if anything happened to Shepard.

What Miranda didn’t know at the time, and had never known in any of the days they had spent together in this room, was that Samara had a singular focus in mind. She had long been awaiting a day such as this - a day when they would launch a virtually suicidal assault against the Collectors.

The truth was, ever since Samara had met Shepard and Miranda on Illium and heard of their quest to stop the Collectors, she had considered the possibility that the Goddess was sending her a sign. Once she completed her penance by ending Morinth’s reign of terror on the galaxy, that mere possibility had crystallised into a certainty. With Morinth gone, her purpose had been fulfilled. Her very reason for staying alive these past four hundred years was at an end.

Samara could derive no other meaning from the path she had been set upon. The auspicious omens were all so clear. Her time had finally come. This was the day she was destined to embrace eternity.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, every single thing Samara had done since she had stepped foot aboard the Normandy had been rooted in a silent expectation that the approaching suicide mission was where her Goddess had fated her to die. Every meditation. Every field mission. Every moment spent with Miranda, gently guiding her towards a happier, more fulfilling future Samara would never see.

Samara had been waiting for this day with bated breath. Not in fear. Rather, finding comfort and peace in it. On some level, perhaps even aching for the release that she had been denied a long time ago.

The closer the hour drew, the more the weight on her shoulders had lifted. The more she had lowered her guard. The easier her burdens had become to bear. It wouldn’t be long now before she could lay them down for eternity.

And, with that in mind, Samara’s meditation continued untroubled, unburdened by the thought that it would be her last. Because, in her heart of hearts, the truth was that Samara still believed deep down, just as she had for the last four hundred years, that she was ultimately responsible for the fate that had befallen her family. The death of her bondmate. Her children’s disease. Mirala’s murders.

And, for that, Samara had never once stopped believing in the deepest recesses of her soul that she did not truly deserve to live.

*     *     *

“Jelly? Seriously?” Prangley snickered at his fellow student. “That's how you're going to celebrate?”

“A pool of jelly,” Rodriguez corrected him. “That makes all the difference.” She grinned.

“Swimming in jelly. That's a new one,” Seanne laughingly commented.

“Better than yours,” Rodriguez replied, sticking out her tongue.

“Drink your fuckin' juice, Rodriguez,” Seanne countered, lightly smacking her on the arm.

“Oi. Language,” Miranda nonchalantly chastised, not even looking up from her work. Jack may have tolerated casual swearing, but Miranda at least tried to instil some decorum while she was around.

“Sorry,” Seanne sheepishly apologised.

Miranda turned the page, continuing to read the latest Alliance brief on the status of other cities on Earth. Bailey might have ordered her not to come into work on weekends, but he’d never said she couldn’t read reports in her spare time. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but part of her still hoped that one of these days the reports would mention a certain asari Justicar, the last of her order. At least then she would know where she was. No luck yet.

“Hey, Miss. What about you?” asked Reiley. Miranda glanced up, visibly annoyed to have her concentration broken. “What are you going to do when you get home?”

“Technically speaking, I am home, in planetary terms,” Miranda pointed out. She was from Earth, after all. “This is as close to home as I ever plan on going, anyway.” She shrugged, returning her gaze to the digital text. She had no reason to ever go further.

“You know what I mean,” said Reiley, not surprised by her pedantry. Miranda was always the sort to pick apart someone's words, deliberately misinterpreting them and taking them out of context, even when she knew damn well what they meant. It made her a nightmare to bicker with. “What do you think you'll do when the mass relays are rebuilt and you get to see your sister again?” he asked, interested to see a more sentimental side of her.

“I believe I'll hug her. For about six months,” Miranda matter-of-factly replied, not even a twitch of irony flickering across her deadpan expression. “Crying may also be involved.”

Prangley laughed. “Six months, huh?” he said, grinning lopsidedly.

“You're right. I have a lot of endurance. I could probably push it to seven,” said Miranda, sounding entirely serious. Despite the fact that there wasn’t a hint of a smile on her face, this was the closest thing to an amiable attitude Jack’s kids ever saw her with.

“I've got a feeling Little Miss Sis might get sick of that,” Rodriguez commented.

“Yes, well, I'm stronger than her. She has no say in the matter. And turn that noise down, would you?” she asked, her request far more relaxed than the order she would have barked when the students first came under her care. 

“It's not noise,” Seanne insisted, looking quite offended by Miranda's low opinion of her favourite artist. “It's music.”

“No, it isn't,” Miranda firmly asserted, not even bothering to glance up as she flipped the page on her tablet computer.

“Why? What did you listen to when you were growing up?” asked Prangely, somehow unable to picture Miranda ever being anything other than a thirty-something adult.

“Rachmaninoff,” Miranda answered, as if that should have been perfectly obvious.

“I totally called it,” said Rodriguez, holding out her hand, gesturing for Reiley to pay up. “I told you she never listens to anything made in the last three centuries. It's only classical shit with her.”

“First of all, don't swear. Secondly, Rachmaninoff is not classical, he's romantic. Thirdly, he died in nineteen forty-three, which is less than two hundred and fifty years ago.” As one, all the students met her with blank stares. Miranda gave them an unimpressed look before shaking her head, going back to her article, realising she was wasting her time trying to educate them. “Never mind.”

Abruptly, there came a knock at the door. Seeing as any visitor would likely be there for her, Miranda moved to answer it, but Reiley beat her to the punch. “I'll get it,” he said, leaping over the couch to see who it was, reaching the doorway faster than she could react.

“Thank you.” Much as Miranda refused to think of her injuries as a hindrance, they did impact upon her mobility. The students were considerate enough to do a few small things here and there to help her out, like buying her a little extra time to grab her cane and get to her feet when a visitor came by.

“It's for you, Miss,” Reiley announced, not that this was unexpected. “It's Mr. Taylor.”

“Make yourself at home, Jacob,” Miranda said instinctively, without looking over her shoulder, clicking the home button on her tablet and putting it aside.

“Looks like things are going well here,” Jacob observed, stepping inside.

“For certain values of 'well',” Miranda replied with a slightly strained sigh. It was mostly exaggeration, though. “These teenagers were all far less inclined to bother me before you made me be nice to them.”

“Yeah,” Jacob conceded, pulling up a chair, “But you would have felt guilty about it if you hadn't. Not right away, but eventually. You know I'm right.”

Miranda feigned a huff. Truth be told, she was starting to enjoy their well-intentioned torment. She certainly preferred that than having them walk on eggshells around her. The last thing she ever wanted was for these kids to feel around her the way she’d felt around her own father. 

“Any luck finding out what happened to our people?” Jacob asked.

“No,” Miranda straightforwardly replied. “I’ve asked Dr. Michel and her team to look into it, but there are literally millions of bodies scattered throughout the rubble of London. Identifying them all was never going to be quick. It could be years before we find out whether anyone we know is among them. If they were simply vaporised, chances are we’ll never know what happened to them.”

“Wow. Right to the vaporisation,” Jacob pointed out. That was dark.

“I'm not assuming any of them are gone,” Miranda insisted with a slightly defensive shrug. “I just have to be prepared for all potential possibilities. I'm not about to stop trying to find them, but I need to accept that I may be powerless to answer what happened to everyone.”

“Don't worry. I know.” Jacob and Miranda went back years by that point. He was better at reading her intentions than most, and he knew she often wasn't aware that she sounded more callous than she meant.

“Other than that, what brings you here?” Miranda asked. “Joining us for dinner tonight?”

“That would be nice,” Jacob acknowledged, nodding to accept that invitation. “But, before we get into that, I’m here because I found something. I thought you might like to see it.”

Miranda furrowed her brow. “What is it?”

“Well, you remember the memory wall at Paddington station? The place where people post pictures of anybody who’s missing, or leave messages for people who haven’t been found yet to try and meet up with them?”

“Of course I do,” Miranda answered. She had passed it many times - it was a stone’s throw from both the hospital where she’d recovered, and the refugee camp/field hospital at Hyde Park. It wasn’t the only wall of its kind. Part memorial. Part notice-board. It was something people had first started doing during the war, as a means of finding others in the chaos, using local landmarks as places to reach out to others. Once the Reapers were destroyed, their use had only grown. The one at Paddington had been well-established by the time Miranda had been found, let alone the time she woke up. “What’s your point?”

“...This is really my bad, you know,” he confessed, apologetically. “Back then, I was so distracted. Busy thinking about you and working to get London back on its feet. I guess that’s why, when Samara left without any word, it didn't even occur to me to check to see if she'd left a message there.”

Miranda’s heart dropped like a stone, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, it was as if her whole world stopped.

Samara.

Memories of the weeks - hell, months - they’d spent together on The Normandy flashed through her mind, the countless hours alone in the Starboard Observation Deck, the private conversations where they’d admitted things to each other that they’d never spoken aloud to another soul.

It was at that instant that it finally sank in for Miranda just how truly alone she’d felt over these past several weeks without Samara there by her side.

Even though she was surrounded by people, it didn’t make up for that void left by her absence. Knowing that she should have been there, but inexplicably wasn’t. That constant feeling that something was just...missing.

She’d almost come to accept that lingering feeling of abandonment. Of being forgotten. Even a little betrayed. To have that challenged now, at this late hour. It didn’t seem possible.

“Jacob, if you’re joking with me about this…” Miranda said softly, not sure she could cope with the disappointment if this turned out to be some ill-conceived prank, and not willing to get her hopes up until she was certain it wasn’t.

“I’m not. See for yourself.” Jacob activated his omni-tool and sent the file across to Miranda’s tablet computer. The file flashed up on her screen, asking if she wanted to accept the transfer. ‘To Miranda, From Samara’.

She froze. So, this was real.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Samara would have left something behind. Or tried to, at least. It was what she had expected initially. After all, they had grown extremely close throughout their time together. More than anyone realised. But, when Miranda had woken up from her near-death state to find her already gone, it had been hard not to feel hurt, to think that things must have changed, or that maybe she’d overestimated their friendship from the start. 

It meant a lot to her to have evidence that perhaps those things weren’t the case, and that Samara's absence didn't denote a lack of caring on her part. That she hadn’t forgotten her, or cast her aside. Not entirely, at least.

“...Did she say where she went, or...?” Miranda trailed off.

“I'm not sure,” Jacob admitted with a shrug. “I only read the covering note intended for me, which didn’t say much more than to give this to you if...when you woke up. Go on. Play it.”

For a moment, Miranda hesitated, tempted to wait until she was alone to do so. But, then, it occurred to her that it didn’t make sense to guard this so jealously. And she didn’t fully understand her own reticence to be transparent about the message’s contents, or her friendship with Samara.

Sure, nobody knew how close they’d grown on The Normandy, but it wasn’t like it was some scandalous secret that they were friends. There was nothing Samara would have said to her that Jacob or the students couldn't hear. It wasn't that the two of them had never had personal conversations. Of course they had. But Samara was a professional, like her. Miranda had every expectation her message would be in that capacity more than anything else. Hell, the only time she’d ever really seen her get emotional was after Morinth.

So, then, why did it feel like letting anyone else catch a glimpse of the connection she and Samara shared was like exposing a deeply personal part of herself? A side of herself nobody except Samara had ever seen?

Why did this feel too intimate to be spoiled by prying eyes?

“...So, are you going to open it, or...?” Jacob prompted. It wasn’t lost on her that Jason, Reiley, Seanne and Rodriguez were all watching her too.

Somewhat self-conscious to that fact, Miranda cleared her throat and played the video. Samara's face appeared on the screen, lit only by a faint light. From what little Miranda could make out of the background, Samara must have recorded this on the roof of the hospital at night, most likely on her omni-tool. 

“Miranda,” the message began. “I do not...”

Samara paused, swallowing, searching for the right words. She spoke softly. Even more so than usual. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept in days. Her shoulders almost began to bow under the strain she’d placed on herself.

“As I record this, you lie unconscious in a hospital bed. You are...unable to breathe without the aid of a machine. And you have been fighting for your life, every second of every minute of every hour since I discovered you.”

There was a strange air to Samara’s words. Maybe it was just the quality of recording, or because she wasn’t even facing the screen, but normally she spoke with such a clear tone. Calm, assured and quiet, yet also confident. Her timbre never quaked or wavered or quivered. But this was different. There was an uncharacteristic hoarseness to her voice. A tremor, even.

Then again, in the days before Samara left, she’d been in and out of the wasteland so many times that she was doubtlessly exhausted. Running on empty. Of course her voice would have given out by then.

“I do not know whether...” Samara stopped herself again, finding whatever words were on the tip of her tongue too unpleasant to utter. Her eyes remained distant, fixed on the dark city below. Her head hadn’t raised an inch since she started speaking. Not even once. “Your survival is not guaranteed. However, if you are hearing this, then you have awoken. For that, I am grateful.”

On some level, Miranda had been waiting for something like this since the moment she woke up in that hospital bed. Just something from Samara. Anything at all. Some sort of acknowledgment that she was okay. To know why her friend left. To know that she hadn’t callously tossed her aside.

Now that she was holding that very thing in her hand, it didn’t seem real. Miranda didn’t know how to react. Perhaps she should have been excited, or happy, or even annoyed that Samara hadn’t left this beside her bed where it would have been easier to find. Instead there was just...quiet. And confusion.

“Do not interpret my absence as indifference to your fate; it is not,” Samara continued. That she even mentioned it at all showed that it must have troubled her to consider Miranda might believe she had no interest in her survival. She hadn’t been wrong. The thought had crossed her mind, especially in her loneliest moments. “It grieves me that I cannot be by your side.”

Hearing her finally say those words, Miranda believed her. In truth, deep down, despite her loneliness and her doubts, she’d never really questioned it. There were very few people Miranda had truly cared about, much less people who truly cared about her in return. And Samara was one of them.

There was nothing shallow or interchangeable about the rapport she shared with Samara. Those memories of the Normandy and the Citadel weren’t mere fabrications of Miranda’s imagination. That was real. And if that had all been faked, then either Miranda had to be the most gullible idiot ever to stand on two legs, or Samara was a master manipulator of the blackest deceit ever purveyed to the universe. She knew damn well that neither of those things were true.

Miranda just wished Samara was really there. And, even as she listened to her give her explanations, part of her just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t. Not that she resented her for it, but it just didn’t make sense. Samara’s Code might have been a good reason for why she’d left, but it didn’t explain why she’d done it so abruptly. Plus, she’d taken the time to record this message, but she hadn’t told Jacob she was leaving, or to give this to Miranda.

Something was just...off about all of this. It didn’t add up.

“Hey, Miss, who's that?” Reiley asked.

Miranda waved him off, refusing to be distracted. To his credit, Reiley took that as a cue to shut up and leave her in peace, at least until the end of the video.

“There is much suffering in the wake of this war. The Code compels me to go where I am needed. I cannot ignore that, even for you,” said Samara.

Miranda’s brow twinged. It was strange. Samara really didn't sound like herself, both in terms of what she was saying and how she was saying it. It was as though an unspoken thought weighed heavily on her heart. Guilt? Regret? 

Samara was silent for a long moment. She still hadn’t moved a muscle through the entire length of the video. Until a sound escaped her. Then the camera moved, and Miranda couldn’t see Samara’s face anymore. If she had recorded this on her omni-tool, the only explanation that would have made sense was if Samara had leaned forward against the railing and cradled her head in her hands.

It was two whole minutes before Samara came back into view.

“...Forgive me. I merely...I wanted...” She stopped herself again, turning aside, her eyes still yet to meet the camera. It was difficult to make out, but...it almost seemed like she was struggling to maintain her composure. But Miranda knew that couldn’t be possible, because that never happened to Samara.

Finally, Samara straightened up, as if forcing herself to continue. She tucked her free hand behind her back, staring dead ahead, but still not at the camera. 

“I know that I will not be there for you if you awaken. That is my responsibility, and a burden I have to bear. If you hate me for it, I will understand. I would welcome it, even, as it is not undeserved. But you must not think even for a moment that it is any fault of your own that I cannot stay, or that I have abandoned you. You are always in my thoughts, and I pray for your recovery.”

Miranda's eye glinted at that. If she couldn’t stay then so be it. But couldn’t she have waited a few days for her to wake up? Or left behind some means of contacting her? Was she afraid to talk to her, even from far away? Did she think that Miranda wouldn’t have understood why she had to leave, if she explained it to her? All she'd wanted was to talk to her again, or at least to enjoy the silence, knowing that if she ever truly needed Samara, she would be there. And vice versa.

And none of this answered the question of why she still hadn’t returned. It had been two months since she vanished, and this was the only word they’d had from her in all that time - a recording from the exact same day she disappeared.

“I cannot say when I will return to speak with you again, or...learn of your fate, if that is no longer a possibility.” Samara's expression didn't change, although her gaze momentarily dipped at that sombre thought. “But you are a strong woman, Miranda. Strong enough that you have not yet perished from your injuries. If it is possible for you to survive at all, then I do not believe that you will succumb.”

“Good prediction,” Jacob remarked. Miranda didn’t feel it in her heart to be able to make a wisecrack. There was an odd weight in her chest as she watched Samara speak. One that wouldn’t go away. And it was getting heavier.

A faint shadow flickered over Samara’s eyes, imperceptible to most. She hid it, but it betrayed something Miranda couldn't interpret. “...Be safe, Miranda.”

With that, the message ended. The silence that followed encompassed the room like a slow-rising flood, drowning out all sound. Miranda sat there, still, not even aware of the watchful eyes lingering on her, waiting for her to react.

It was strange. For as much as she would have expected it to lift her spirits to hear from Samara, there was this indescribable ache left behind in her wake. The same ache that had been there, gnawing away at Miranda despite her best efforts to ignore it ever since she realised Samara had left without saying goodbye.

Miranda had never been the best at identifying emotions, whether hers or others. Hence, it wasn’t a shock when she couldn’t find the words to articulate precisely what it was that she was feeling. Maybe the word for it didn’t exist. 

The truth was, she’d never felt so...conflicted.

It was funny to think. Miranda had been forced to go on the run from Cerberus for almost a year. Alone. In hiding. Unable to contact anyone she knew or cared about, because it wasn’t safe to do so. It would have exposed them to harm - it would have made them targets Cerberus could track down to try and get to her.

She’d frequently thought of her friends during those moments. Of The Normandy. Of Shepard. Of Jacob. Of Oriana, of course. And of Samara.

It hadn’t been easy, surviving like that, not knowing whether the people she cared about were in danger. She’d kept an eye on them all as best she could from afar, although with Samara that had been virtually impossible, given she moved often and left little trace of her presence anywhere.

There had been many days back then where Miranda missed her companionship, not merely because craved a reprieve from her isolation, but because, frankly, simply being around Samara had a way of making everything better, and of making all her problems seem smaller than they did a moment ago. It was like her very aura conveyed a silent promise that, no matter what happened, everything would turn out okay in the end. Miranda needed that sometimes.

And yet...it hadn’t hurt nearly as much to lose contact with Samara back then as it did now, even though by all rights they were so much closer.

She swallowed, choosing to ignore it.

“Thank you for bringing me that, Jacob,” Miranda told him sincerely. For as much as her heart seemed divided against itself, it was still a net comfort to hear from Samara, if a small one. At least she knew Samara had left of her own volition, which meant Miranda had answered one question weighing on her mind.

“Sounds like you two were close,” Jacob observed.

“Yeah, we were,” Miranda confirmed. So much so that it seemed a simple recording wasn’t enough to fill the hollowness of still not knowing where Samara was, or whether she was okay, or whether she would ever come back.

“I never knew that about you,” said Jacob, sitting somewhat sideways in his chair, with his elbow on the table. “I mean, not that I'm surprised. But I don't think I ever really saw you two talk or hang out on the ship. Figured I would have heard about you doing that if it was a regular occurrence.”

“Nobody else spent much time on the Starboard Observation Deck, so I suppose no one noticed,” Miranda pointed out. And it was true. It wasn’t as though they’d been hiding it, and yet only a small handful of people had gleaned any insight into their growing friendship. And only a few more people than that had seen them train together. “Samara was the person I could always go to when I didn't want to be around anyone else. Which was...quite often, actually.”

Jacob shrugged nonchalantly. “Makes sense to me. Always thought you two would get along.”

Miranda snorted and arched her eyebrow. “Let me guess, because we're both cold and robotic and incapable of having fun?” 

“Hey, you said that, not me.” Miranda just looked at him. Jacob uncomfortably cleared his throat. “...Well, I mean, you're not wrong about having a certain...demeanour in common, but that wasn't what I was thinking.”

“What then?” she asked.

“For starters, how about you're both smart, capable, determined women who could recognise and respect those qualities in each other?” Jacob suggested, almost resenting the fact that he had to profess his innocence. “Or that you're a refined, elegant woman who would probably feel far more inclined to talk to someone with Samara's wisdom and maturity than you would to the average person, since she can engage with you on that level where most can’t?”

Miranda summoned the energy to smirk, though it didn’t reach her eye. “You’re already invited to dinner, Jacob. The flattery really isn’t necessary.” Jacob rolled his eyes, realising she'd been messing with him.

“So who was that woman, anyway?” Both Jacob and Miranda glanced over when Jason broke the silence. For a few seconds, they’d honestly forgotten the kids were still there. “Some kind of ex-girlfriend or something?”

Jacob chuckled when Miranda released a slightly exasperated sigh at that question. He didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know that wasn’t the first time they’d pestered her about her personal life, nor that it wouldn’t be the last. “No, Prangley. A friend. And the person who saved my life.”

“Oh. Dope,” Prangley replied. Miranda gave a good-natured roll of her eye, but the response was almost forced, a fact that wasn’t lost on Jacob.

“We’ll start getting dinner ready,” Rodriguez volunteered, since it was her turn to cook. Not that there was much she could do with such limited resources, but the girl got points for enthusiasm. “Will Mr. Taylor be joining us?”

“I will, actually. Thank you,” Jacob confirmed.

Miranda didn’t notice that his eyes had remained fixed on her. Her thoughts were centred on Samara’s message, replaying it in her head, trying to decipher why it had left her so...unresolved, and in so many disparate headspaces at once.

“Hey.” Jacob gently nudged her good knee with his. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she answered. “Why?”

“I don’t know. You just seem…” He trailed off and shook his head, not able to put his finger on exactly what was different about her demeanour. “I don’t know.”

Miranda gave him a look. “Thank you for that assessment, Jacob.”

He laughed despite himself, that response appearing to satisfy him that Miranda was perfectly normal. For her, anyway. “Alright, point taken. But see? Didn’t I tell you Samara hadn’t forgotten about you?”

“You did. It’s nice to hear it from the source, though.” Miranda glanced down, a distracting thought in the back of her mind. “She didn’t outright say that she would be coming back, did she? Do you think she intends to, or...?”

“Hard to say. Samara’s always been a mystery to me,” Jacob pointed out.

“...Right.” Miranda unconsciously toyed with a loose thread on the couch, trying to ignore that indescribable ache in her chest that wouldn’t go away.

“You’ll have to tell me about how you became friends, sometime,” Jacob commented, patting her on the leg as he got up, moving to go help the kids with the cooking.

“Yeah. I’ll do that…” Miranda vacantly uttered.

She had absolutely no intention of doing that.

*     *     *

It was a good thing that Shepard had installed those ship upgrades. Going through the Omega-4 Relay had been no easy feat.

Miranda and Mordin had raced down to the cargo hold with Shepard to fight off an oculus that cut its way through the hull. Multiple shockwaves had resonated through the ship as they battled the oculus. They had to fight on, not knowing what they meant, whether anyone had died, or how far they were from the base. Fortunately, everyone had escaped unharmed. Although, The Normandy wasn’t in such good shape. It had crash-landed just shy of the Collector Base.

A mission briefing had been called, the plan made, the roles decided. Miranda was charged with leading the second fireteam into the base. Tali had been appointed the tech specialist, infiltrating the base through a thermal vent and bypassing the security doors so the two squads could rendezvous inside and move on deeper, towards the central core.

It hadn’t been easy. If not for Miranda and the others providing covering fire, Tali damn near might have got her head shot off trying to seal the doors shut behind Shepard, Thane and Garrus.

Somehow, despite all the odds, they’d made it through the first phase in one piece. No lives lost. They even found the crew alive. The colonists from Horizon weren’t so lucky. If they’d been even a few seconds later, the crew would have…

No. They hadn’t failed them. That was all that mattered.

Shepard sent Kasumi to escort the crew back to the ship, certain that they were in no fit state to fight off any Collectors by themselves after all they’d been through.

For everyone else who would continue moving forward, the problem was that they still needed to get through the seeker swarms. They were denser here. And Mordin’s countermeasures wouldn’t work on that many. A biotic field was suggested as the best way through, though that would only be sufficient to protect a small team. Miranda had volunteered, though Jack had protested and suggested she go instead. Perhaps deliberately taking a third option, Shepard had chosen Samara to hold up the barrier. In the meantime, Garrus would take over leading the rest of the squad through a secondary path EDI had pointed out to them.

“Miranda, Jacob, you’re with me,” said Andrea, everyone’s orders confirmed.

“Just stay focused; I’ve got your back,” Miranda assured Samara, receiving a nod of understanding from her as they left, following Shepard and Jacob.

Shepard took point. “Stay alert; they could come from anywhere.”

And so the long walk began.

Samara found it easy at first, pinging those wasp-like creatures off her biotic bubble like raindrops bursting on glass. The effort didn’t appear to phase her at all. But, just as it began to seem like it was far too easy for comfort, it was quickly confirmed that their presence hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Collectors inbound!” Miranda called out, signalling for Samara to take cover.

“ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL,” Harbinger announced his presence.

Gunfire rang out, combined with biotic attacks. Samara took shelter where she could, only concerned with maintaining the barrier as the others took aim at the incoming hostiles. It didn’t seem to be troubling her, but she couldn’t divert her hands to do anything else. Couldn’t pick up a gun. Couldn’t fire off a reave. If a Collector got close to her, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself.  

Miranda made it her personal mission to stay near the back of the group, determined to ensure not a damn thing touched Samara. Neither Shepard nor Jacob seemed to take any issue with that arrangement.

“Coast is clear,” Jacob confirmed after the Harbinger dropped. Trusting her allies implicitly, Samara emerged once more, ready to continue the long walk.

“You okay?” Miranda checked in with her, keeping an eye out for danger as she walked at Samara’s side. Shepard and Jacob kept further forward, their attention on the path ahead, scanning for any approaching threats.

“You will be the first to know if I am not,” Samara assured her, certain that Miranda was the best option to take over from her if her barrier broke, although in theory Shepard and Jacob could also do so if necessary. If that thin bubble of energy wasn’t maintained the whole way, they would all perish to the swarms.

It seemed like they couldn’t make it twenty metres without another wave of Collectors or their husks coming for them. Wave after wave. Harbinger possessing footsoldier after footsoldier. They knew this would be a long walk. But, considering how much effort Samara was exerting on that barrier, each passing minute must have felt twice as long as the last, the strain on her body growing exponentially the longer they spent pinned down in these firefights.

Gradually, Samara began to buckle under the weight of her barrier. She had been repelling those seeker swarms for so long. And the end of the line seemed to creep further and further away the closer they got.

By the third time Samara had to force herself out of cover to start moving again, she was stumbling, barely managing to drag her feet forward.

Husks and abominations crawled up from either side, but there was nowhere for Samara to hide, nor did it seem like she had the strength to stop and wait another time. If she crouched down one more time, it was more than likely that she simply wouldn’t be able to stand up again. The others just had to react fast, and take down any foes before they got close enough to pose a threat to her. 

Eventually, they caught sight of a tunnel ahead. The way out.

“Samara…” Miranda stayed by her side, concern colouring her voice, ready to take over from her if she couldn’t do this anymore.

Samara gritted her teeth, willing herself to bear it. “We must reach the end. I will not give in,” she growled under her breath, using what remained of her strength to pick up her pace, running as best she could despite the pressure bearing down on her, not sure she could hold on if they were forced to slow down again. 

“Hold on, we’re almost there,” Andrea assured her, seeing the doors in sight. 

One by one, taking turns providing covering fire, they each leapt over a waist-high wall that stood between them and the ramp down to the exit. How Samara was still standing by that point, Miranda would never know. Miranda stayed a few paces back, protecting the rear and picking off any hostiles she could from the sizeable squad of Collectors approaching them from behind.

“We have to move quickly, Shepard,” Miranda called out. If they didn’t, either Samara’s barrier would give, or the Collectors would soon outnumber them.

“Alright, let’s move!” Shepard urged. One after another, the Collectors charged in, running through the barrier, only to be gunned down in a hail of fire. They didn’t care if it was suicide. That wouldn’t stop them. “They’re pushing! Keep it up!”

“Hurry, Shepard,” Samara all but pleaded, her voice weakening.

Jacob dashed back for the door, opening up a path to relative safety. Shepard stayed with Samara, while Miranda guarded the edge of the barrier.

Miranda could see there were more seekers now than ever, and they were starting to break through the barrier. There were too many of them to be stopped. The buzzing was so damn loud, it was as if they were inside her skull. The beating of their wings felt like ten thousand pinpricks against her skin. The swarm was a living hurricane bearing down on her. Unprotected. Alone. 

In that instant, Miranda abruptly realised just how isolated she had become, in the space of mere seconds. Those few metres between her and the rest of her squad suddenly felt like a mile. And those Collectors were damn close.

“Miranda!” Shepard called out, seeing both Collectors and seekers converging on her, trying to overwhelm the barrier, threatening to consume her alive.

Before anyone could try and stop her, Samara marched forward with a look in her eyes that none of them had ever seen before, reaching Miranda’s side. Without saying a word, Samara thrust both hands forward and released a colossal biotic wave that surged through the entire chamber like a tsunami, unleashing such force that the ground shook beneath Miranda’s feet.

And then there was silence.

There was no barrier anymore. No noise, but for Miranda’s own heavy breathing echoing in her ears. As quickly as they had converged, those dozens of Collectors and thousands of seekers that had been around them a moment ago were now gone. Not just dead. Gone. Disintegrated in a flash. The seekers that remained were so few, and so distant that they didn’t even seem to notice their presence.

Her job done, Samara turned and calmly strode through the door, unfazed.

It took Miranda little more than a moment to shake off her stupor and regather her bearings, picking off the last few seekers from range as she backed through the doors to safety, Jacob sealing the way shut behind her.

Miranda allowed herself a second to catch her breath, since it seemed they had found themselves a place of relative safety in which to recover. She did a quick scan of her surroundings, making sure nobody was hurt. 

Samara met her gaze across the small gap between them, evidently checking on her comrades in the same way that Miranda was. They exchanged silent nods, as if to confirm they were both alright. To Miranda’s surprise, despite how close Samara had been to her breaking point a moment ago, there was no trace of that exhaustion now. Maybe she was a little winded, sure, but no more than the rest of them. There was every indication she could still fight.

Miranda had to admit, she was relieved that Shepard hadn’t chosen her to hold up the barrier. Sure, in theory she could have gotten them all the way to the end, but the raw power Samara had unleashed just then? Miranda had never seen anything like that before, let alone found anything close to that within herself.

When it came to biotics, Samara was just on a different level entirely. 

The fleeting reprieve was swiftly interrupted when Garrus radioed in under heavy fire. Without delay, they hurried over to open the door to let the second team in. For a moment, it looked like Garrus had been wounded, but his armour had protected him from any harm, much to Shepard’s relief.

The squad regrouped in a moment of calm once more. Joker confirmed that Kasumi and the crew had made it back to The Normandy with no casualties.

“Excellent. Now, let’s make it count. EDI, what’s our next step?” asked Miranda.

“There should be some nearby platforms that will take you to the main control console. From there, you can overload the system and destroy the base.”

“Commander? You’ve got a problem,” Joker quickly interrupted EDI. “Hostiles massing just outside the door. Won’t be long until they bust through.”

Drawing everyone’s attention, Shepard climbed up onto the platform EDI had spoken of. “We need to finish this before they get through.”

Seeing a solution, Miranda didn’t hesitate to volunteer it. “Pick a team to go with you, and leave the others here to defend this position. That should buy you some time.” It was a dangerous job, sure, but Miranda knew this squad well enough to trust that they would hold the line to their last breath if that was what it took to allow Shepard to make it to the heart of the base and destroy it from within.

Andrea agreed with her call. “Mordin, Miranda, you’ll be with me,” Shepard confirmed. Miranda nodded, expecting nothing less. 

Andrea gave them a few moments to divide amongst themselves any remaining thermal clips and stocks of medigel. If anyone ran out now, that would be it. As she took the opportunity to restock and check her weapons, Miranda couldn’t help but run her eyes across the group one last time, wondering if there were any faces among them she would never see again.

“I would wish you good fortune for the battle ahead but, knowing you, I am certain you will not need it,” Samara’s voice prompted Miranda to turn towards her.

Miranda met her with a small half-smile. “I’ll take it anyway,” she said. It wasn’t lost on her that they’d both kept their respective promises to get each other this far. From this point on, they would be separated. It would be out of their hands. 

Miranda had to admit, she was a little worried. She had seen how much it had taken out of Samara to hold up that barrier, especially towards the end. Although she was carrying herself remarkably well, she couldn’t help but hold a kernel of doubt in her mind, that maybe she was in a far worse condition than she was willing to show. But, that being said, having eight others around her to protect her made this far and away the safest option for Samara right now.

It would have made Miranda feel a little less anxious if she could count herself among that number, though. But she couldn’t be in two places at once. And, at the end of the day, there was no way in hell Miranda would let Shepard go to the core of the Collector Base without her. Chances were, she’d need her there.

“Samara,” Miranda caught her eye as she ejected and replaced a thermal clip. “I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?” she said, a promise on her part, and seeking the same confirmation from Samara.

Her words were met with uncharacteristic hesitation. Uncertainty. It didn’t seem like there was any confusion about what Miranda was asking. More that she was asking Samara to swear to a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep.

Samara’s eyes dipped, as if avoiding the answer. “Miranda, I...I do not kn--”

Miranda reached out and touched Samara’s arm, cutting her off. “Promise me,” she insisted, not willing to leave until she heard it. Until she knew that Samara would do everything it took to keep herself safe, and to get back to The Normandy in one piece. Until they both parted ways knowing this wouldn’t be the last conversation they would ever have. Because Samara was many things, but above all else she was true to her word.

If she gave Miranda her oath on this, then it was because she truly meant it. And she would dedicate every fibre of her being to keeping her pledge.

Samara stared at her in a heavy silence. Miranda held her gaze expectantly, not yielding until she heard the answer she wanted in response. 

After a few seconds, Samara nodded, finding the strength to stand a little straighter, even after the long walk she’d endured. “Of course,” she said, committing to that vow. “Until we meet again.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Miranda’s lip. That was good enough for her.

“Ready up. We’re moving out,” Shepard gave the command, unable to spare any more time. The Collectors would break down that door any second now.

Miranda didn’t need to be told that twice. “I’m ready, Commander,” she said, hopping onto the platform at Shepard’s side, ready to face whatever lay at the heart of the Collector Base. “Anything to say before we do this?”

“The Collectors, the Reapers, they aren’t a threat to us. They’re a threat to everything - everyone. Those are the lives we’re fighting for. That’s the scale,” Andrea reminded them all, locking eyes with each member of her squad in turn. “It’s been a long journey, and no one’s comin’ out without scars.”

Grunt slammed his fists together, eager get his hands on whatever came through that door, and to make damn sure not one of them got to Shepard.

“But it all comes down to this moment,” Shepard continued. “We win or lose it all in the next few minutes. Make me proud. Make yourselves proud.”

“Well said,” said Miranda, and she meant it. For all her accomplishments, when all was said and done, there was not a single accolade among them which made Miranda feel prouder than she did fighting alongside Shepard in this moment. Not just as her second-in-command. But as her friend. “Let’s go finish this.”

With that, the platform began to move.

*     *     *

Miranda had been in Jack’s position only a few weeks ago. She knew how mind-numbingly tedious it was to be stuck in a hospital bed. Helping her pass the time every now and then seemed like the least she could do to repay her for saving her life twice in the same day. The fact that Jack hadn’t immediately kicked Miranda out yet indicated she was more desperate for distraction than she was letting on.

Given that neither of them enjoyed the idea of talking to each other much if at all, Miranda (with some prompting from Jacob) had come up with the idea of passing the time by other means. Last Sunday, they’d played cards. Today, it was chess. It was actually working surprisingly well as a means of keeping Jack occupied without having to speak to each other much.

Jack moved her rook to take a pawn. Miranda took advantage, moving her queen to take that same rook, leaving the king trapped. “Checkmate,” said Miranda, already resetting the board. “Good game. Play again?”

“Sure.” Jack shrugged. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do.

Jack hadn’t caught on yet, but Miranda was pulling her punches. Jack might have had more experience than her at certain games of cards, but Miranda had learned chess from an early age, since her father saw intellectual value in it.

She hadn’t played seriously in twenty years, but Miranda had forgotten less than she thought. Jack, by contrast, barely knew the names of the pieces.

The gap between them was such that, without even really having to try, Miranda would have won every single game with ease had she not consciously made the choice to lose roughly thirty percent of the time. Part of her was tempted to take the gloves off and do just that. But she was self-aware enough to recognise that refusing to hold back might have been cruel given the circumstances. Plus, it would definitely piss Jack off to get annihilated by someone she hated.

So, instead, Miranda hampered herself, acting worse at the game than she was, deliberately letting Jack get wins here and there, delaying victories to drag games out longer, or letting them go to a stalemate, making it seem like they were more evenly matched than they were. It didn’t matter to her really. The ultimate goal was simply to pass time after all, as much for herself as for Jack.

The truth was, Miranda needed something to distract her from her own thoughts for a while too, even if humouring Jack at chess wasn’t particularly exciting. Between her search for the Normandy’s lost, the endless sleepless nights, and trying to avoid deciphering her complicated feelings about Samara’s absence, anything that helped her to take her mind off things would do.

It was either that or beg Bailey to let her work Sundays, but something told her that raising that subject with him more than the twelve times she already had would be considered undignified. 

“...How’re the tykes treatin’ you?” Jack eventually broke the silence when they were both a few moves into the next game, head lethargically resting on her hand. They hardly spoke whenever Miranda did visit like this, not that there had been many occasions to judge from. Boredom really must have gotten the better of her if she was resorting to asking her former nemesis to talk.

“Surprisingly well, actually,” Miranda answered, moving her queen to take a pawn, intentionally leaving her king exposed. “We seem to be getting on.”

“You can tell me the truth,” said Jack, correctly picking up that Miranda had been actively refraining from being critical of Jack’s students in front of her. “If they’re being assholes, they’re being assholes.”

Miranda sighed. She supposed if she and Jack really were trying to turn over a new leaf with each other, there was no harm in being honest with her. “They’re getting to the point where they’re comfortable testing my boundaries. But it’s alright. I knew what I was signing up for. It’s your move, by the way.”

“Oh, shit.” Jack picked up a bishop, turning it between her fingers as she looked for an available move. There was no mistaking that she was tired. It was hard to sleep when forced to stay in bed all day every day, but for rare exceptions like this. Miranda wasn’t sleeping any better herself. She was just better at hiding it.

“I have overheard a few remarks that I’m not exactly a fan of. According to Nitin and Deacon, I’m ‘pretty hot for a woman with half her face burned off’,” Miranda recounted. Jack snickered. “At least that one was a compliment.”

“Yeah. They’re jerks like that. But they’re teenage boys. What’re you gonna do?” Jack said with a shrug, eventually deciding to take a knight. “Check.”

“I just ignore them,” Miranda casually replied, moving her king. That had always been her approach to unwanted comments, regardless of the age or gender of the source. Miranda had gotten used to people talking behind her back pretty early in life, and it had only gotten worse when she joined Cerberus. Most of the time, it was just background noise that she didn’t even notice anymore.

“They said all kinds of shit like that about me too when I first started teaching. It’s some kind of macho bullshit thing. Whatever,” Jack distractedly muttered, completely oblivious to the easy victory Miranda had left open for her, failing to spot the possible checkmate and instead moving a knight to take a pawn.

“Right.” Miranda rapped her fingers against the table. She actually had to think for a moment. She didn’t want to do anything that would make it look like she was throwing the game. But, by the same token, she’d won the last two rounds, so she needed to let Jack win this one.

“I heard you got a message from Samara,” Jack piped up.

Miranda glanced up, caught off-guard by that. “I’m sorry?”

“Jacob told me. Said he found a message from her,” Jack tried to make something resembling polite conversation. “How is the old lady?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Miranda shut that down, focusing on the board.

Jack blinked. “Huh?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Miranda said again, moving her queen to take Jack’s bishop.

Jack furrowed her brows. “Well, geez. Fuck me for asking, right? I thought she saved your fuckin’ life or something. How was I supposed to know you were pissed off at her or whatever the fuck happened?”

“I’m not,” Miranda insisted. It was only once the words left her mouth that she realised she’d said that a little too loudly. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “I’m not. I’m extremely grateful to Samara. I’m just…”

Miranda trailed off, realising she didn’t know how to finish that sentence without acknowledging that she was trying to avoid thinking about her, which would also mean acknowledging the fact that she still couldn’t entirely understand why she wanted to avoid thinking about her, beyond the fact that the unnamed ache in her chest grew heavier every time she did.

“It’s your move,” Miranda quietly muttered, giving up on endeavouring to explain something she didn’t have an explanation for.

Jack shook her head and sighed, evidently having zero interest in the inner workings of Miranda’s mind.

With that, Jack finally did as Miranda anticipated and moved her queen next to Miranda’s king, trapping it, with the said queen protected from the king by Jack’s rook. Except Jack said nothing, waiting for her opponent to take her turn.

Miranda almost had to do a double-take, making sure she hadn’t miscalculated.

“That’s checkmate,” Miranda pointed out.

Jack glanced up, barely paying attention. “Huh?”

“You’ve put me in checkmate,” Miranda reiterated.

Jack looked down at the board. It took her a moment before she realised Miranda was right. Something clicked. How the fuck was Miranda losing when she was following the game closer than Jack was? “...Wait, are you letting me win?” she asked, affronted by the thought.

“No. I’m too competitive to do that,” Miranda lied. 

Jack saw right through it, groaning unhappily. “You fuckin’ cunt, now I can’t even pretend to give a shit about this,” she complained, swiping the back of her hand across the table, carelessly knocking over a few pieces as she spoke.

There was no point in deceiving her any longer. “It’s not really fair to you if I don’t hold back. I’ve been playing since I was three.”

“Of course you fuckin’ have…” Jack grumbled.

“Sorry,” Miranda offered, more out of social obligation than anything resembling actual remorse, leaning down and picking up some of the pieces Jack had knocked over.

“I think I liked you better when you were an unapologetic bitch,” Jack unhappily remarked, almost lamenting the fact that the new Miranda took whatever jabs she threw at her without any retaliation. “At least back then you were honest about how fake you were.”

Miranda didn’t blink as she picked up the last pieces, unoffended by Jack’s opinion of her, even if her efforts to improve their relationship were proving fruitless so far. “In that case, do you want me to go hard on you?” Miranda nonchalantly replied, resetting the board. If Jack wanted a challenge, she would gladly oblige.

“I don’t even fucking care at this point…” Jack wearily admitted, definitely at that stage of her recovery where all the days were starting to blur together into a dull grey mush.

“Okay. But you asked for this. And don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Miranda, not about to take the blame when Jack got absolutely destroyed. 

Jack snorted at Miranda’s...Miranda-ness. “Drink bleach, eyepatch. Bring it on.”

Miranda won the next game in less than two minutes.

Jack blinked. “No fucking way.” Miranda just flicked her eye down at the board again, a decisive checkmate. She had told her, after all. “You could have done that this whole time?” Jack queried, narrowing her stare at her.

Instead of answering, Miranda simply shrugged her shoulder. The evidence spoke for itself, didn’t it? Of course she could have.

“...Well, fuck, now I have to beat you.” Jack leaned forward in her chair, studying the board more intently, motivated to try and get the better of her rival now that she’d had her ass handed to her.

Miranda arched her eyebrow. Really? That was what it took to wake Jack up?

Perhaps she should have gone all out sooner.

Before they could start the next game, Miranda’s communicator went off. She checked the incoming call, and recognised it was coming from someone important. Someone she’d been waiting to hear from. “I have to take this.”

Jack waved her hand dismissively, too busy studying the board and retracing the sequence that had entrapped her so quickly, trying to figure out exactly what Miranda had done in the last game, and how she could counter it.

“Doctor Michel,” Miranda greeted her. “How can I help you?”

“Ms Lawson. Have I caught you at a good time?” Dr Michel asked.

“Good enough.” Miranda’s eye flicked up to Jack momentarily. It didn’t seem like she was paying any attention to their conversation. She turned to her side and lowered her voice slightly. “Is this in relation to my matter?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Have you made any progress?”

“In a manner of speaking. My team and I have been working through that list of names you gave us. Your old crewmates.” There was a pause. “We...think we may have some answers for what happened to some of them.”

Miranda could tell from her tone that something was wrong. Her voice sounded sombre. Almost regretful. “...This isn’t good news, is it?” Miranda said quietly, more a statement than a question.

“Unfortunately not.” Doctor Michel sighed, evidently empathising with her position. “There’s no easy way for me to say this, but...we’ve recovered some bodies. As the senior officer of the Normandy, we would like you to identify them.”

Miranda’s heart sank all the way to her feet. Jack couldn’t overhear Doctor Michel’s side of the call, but she straightened up curiously, as if noticing a change in Miranda’s demeanour. She must have looked as pale as she felt, like life itself had just drained from her face.

“...Ms Lawson?” Doctor Michel’s voice broke her heavy silence.

Miranda swallowed, composing herself. “I understand. I’ll head there immediately,” she said solemnly. “Thank you for telling me.” She closed the channel before Doctor Michel could say anything else, not ready to hear it. “I have to go,” she said, grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair, needing to see who they’d found - to confirm whether they really were some of their own.

“What is it?” Jack asked, sensing something was wrong. “Who was that?”

“That was Dr Michel. She’s an old friend of Garrus’s. She’s been overseeing identification efforts at the mortuary. I gave her details of everyone from The Normandy. Asked her to look,” Miranda answered, her tone vacant. “They’ve found some bodies. They think they might be…”

“...Ours?” Jack finished on her behalf. Miranda’s silence confirmed it. “Fuck. Yeah. Go. Go,” Jack urged, realising the importance of this, and not envying Miranda for being the one who had to confront it.

Miranda didn’t linger a moment longer than that.

*     *     *

They’d found out what the Collectors wanted. Why humans were disappearing. Nobody could have foreseen that the answer would be so...grotesque. 

All those people. Alone. Afraid. Processed into sludge while still alive. And for what purpose? To be used as the base material to craft the very tool of humanity’s own destruction. To be transmuted into the building blocks for the creation of a brand new Reaper. A human Reaper.

By the time they managed to kill that thing, the Collector Base had already started collapsing in on itself. Thankfully, those left behind to hold the line had already made it back to the ship ahead of them. 

Miranda, Mordin and Shepard barely made it back to The Normandy before the blast consumed the entire base, their battered ship outrunning the explosion by the thinnest of margins. A daring escape from an impossible mission.

It was only once Miranda counted heads that she confirmed not a single soul was missing. The ship was barely holding together, but as far as the crew...nobody died. It was supposed to be a suicide mission. Yet, somehow, they hadn’t lost a single life.

For a moment, it almost seemed too good to be true. Like there had to be some sort of catch they just didn’t know about yet. Like the worst was still yet to come.

There wasn’t much time to take it in, though. It was all hands on deck conducting urgent repairs to The Normandy, patching up as many holes as they could to keep the damn thing spaceworthy. They were certainly in no condition to jump through a mass relay right away. Even with the Collector Base gone, nobody wanted to linger around there longer than they absolutely had to.

Miranda lost count of the hours as she oversaw the crew, taking in status reports from EDI, redirecting attention where it was needed, running simulations to check whether the repairs would hold. She was deeply absorbed in diagnostics when Shepard placed a hand on her shoulder, nearly startling her out of her number-crunching stupor.

“Hey. Relax,” said Shepard, not failing to notice that Miranda was uncharacteristically jumpy.

Miranda released a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, disappointed in herself for that slip of composure. Of course it was only Shepard. Who was she expecting it to be? The mission was over but, evidently, she was still a little on edge. Perhaps the adrenaline hadn’t fully worked its way out of her system yet.

“What do you need, Commander?” Miranda asked, ever the professional, even when she felt more...frayed than usual.

“After all we’ve just been through, and from what I’ve seen around here? Right now, I need everyone to stop and take a rest for a moment. That includes you,” said Andrea, fixing her with a telling look.

“Commander--” Miranda’s protestations were cut short, as if they’d been expected.

“We’ve been at this for hours. We aren’t in any danger right now, and there’s no way we’re going to be in a position to move tonight,” Shepard pointed out. Her eyes briefly studied Miranda’s face. If even Miranda’s concentration was starting to slip, then what did that say about how the rest of the crew must be feeling? “When’s the last time you took a break? Or had something to eat?”

“I’m fine, Commander. I don’t tire easily,” Miranda assured her. Although she had her limits, as anyone did, she could function on very little food and sleep compared to the average person, and sustain unhealthy habits for a good while longer than anyone else would be able to before the strain started to show.

“Okay. Sure. But everyone else does. And you should set an example for them,” Shepard replied, earning an annoyed scoff from Miranda. Leave it to Andrea to still find a way to twist her own superhuman endurance around on her. “Hey, we’ve all earned the right to stop and catch our breath for a minute. Even you,” she said softly, lightly touching Miranda’s arm, urging her to take care of herself.

Miranda didn’t have the energy to argue. Truth be told, her head had been reeling pretty much all day, and it hadn’t stopped since they got back. It was like her subconscious didn’t realise the fight was over, and she didn’t still have to be in survival mode. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to gather her bearings before getting back to business.

“We’re getting out of here tomorrow, Commander,” Miranda responded, making it clear that she was only willing to acquiesce if Shepard gave her word on that. “That’s a hard deadline.”

“You’ll get it done. I know it,” said Shepard, giving a nod as she walked past, prepared to tell everyone else to lay their tools down, just for a little bit.

Right when she started to leave, a thought occurred to Miranda. “Shepard?” she called after her, earning a secondary glance. “After we put this ship back together...there’s still a lot to do, yeah? A lot of assignments we never finished.” Miranda let that suggestion hang, searching Andrea’s gaze as she spoke, hoping she wasn’t making a fool of herself by asking what she was asking.

She wasn’t used to being in this position. In fact, she’d never been in this position before. Of wanting to stay around other people. And hoping those other people, on some level, felt the same way about her.

They might have finished their critical mission, but, if Miranda was being honest with herself, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to The Normandy yet. Though she wouldn’t have believed it a few months ago, she wasn’t ready for everyone to go their separate ways all of a sudden. She didn’t want to lose contact with all the people she’d only just started to grow close to, nor did she want to lose the better version of herself she was gradually transforming into here.

As hard as it was to admit to anyone else, Miranda liked it here. Honestly, being on The Normandy was the second best thing that had ever happened to her, and the closest thing she’d ever had to a place that felt like home - a place she belonged. She didn’t want this to be the end. Not just yet. Maybe not ever.

Judging by the twinkle in her eye, Shepard seemed to understand Miranda’s meaning completely, and not just on a surface level. “Tomorrow,” Andrea told her reassuringly, saving that conversation for a later date, when they were both a little more clear-headed.

Miranda didn’t know what to make of that answer, but didn’t stop Shepard as she walked away. She wasn’t great at reading people, but it felt like they were on the same page. In any event, they could discuss it at length once they hit the relay.  

With that, Miranda headed back to her office. For as easy as it was for Andrea to tell her she should just kick back and relax for a few hours, that was one of the few things Miranda actually found much, much harder to do than a normal person would. It wasn’t in her DNA to relax, even at the best of times, let alone now. Despite everything, she wasn’t tired. If anything, she was still far too wired to sleep. She needed something to keep her busy. For her, that was therapy.

Operating purely on instinct, Miranda switched on her computer and immediately began typing her report on the mission, as she always did. It was only once she was a few paragraphs in that she abruptly stopped. It was then that it clicked, and she remembered. She didn’t report to anyone anymore.

For the first time since she was sixteen, Miranda was on her own. Not part of Cerberus. Not an agent of The Illusive Man. And it was at that point that the penny truly dropped. What had happened. What it all meant. And that there was no going back. That door had slammed shut forever. And she didn’t regret it.

Miranda exhaled heavily and sat back in her chair, running the fingers of her left hand across her forehead, massaging her temples between her thumb and ring finger, finally processing what had transpired back there.

She still couldn’t understand what The Illusive Man had been thinking when he instructed them to keep the Collector Base. It didn’t make any sense. Miranda had been there to see with her own eyes what had been done to the missing colonists. Nothing good could possibly have come out of that factory of death. Its sole purpose was to liquify living beings, and create Reapers.

So why? Why would he want to keep that horrible place around? What use could he possibly hope to gain from it? There was no justification for that. No defence.

When he’d ordered Miranda to stop Shepard from destroying the base, a line had been crossed - one that Miranda hadn’t even known existed until he crossed it. In the moment, it hadn’t been a question what she would do. She hadn’t even blinked. She’d handed in her resignation effective immediately, and shut off The Illusive Man before he could say another word. She hadn’t thought twice about it. And she’d gone on to stand with Shepard to kill that fucking human Reaper monstrosity and blow that godforsaken place to smithereens.

Admittedly, given the urgency of the situation, she hadn’t had much of an opportunity at the time to pause to consider the full ramifications of her actions, but by the same token Miranda had also been well aware of what she was doing before she made her choice. She was no fool, and she didn’t do anything lightly. She knew perfectly well how dangerous Cerberus was to cross, especially for a valuable asset like her. Someone who knew more of their secrets than just about anyone else. Someone who, given the right data, could even point to the physical location of The Illusive Man himself.

In the space of an instant, she’d almost certainly gone from being one of Cerberus’s most trusted agents to being their number one enemy. That was going to be fun to deal with in the future. But she would cross that bridge when she came to it, she supposed.

It was strange to think how quickly a previously inexorable part of her life had been terminated, faster than a snap of her fingers. In a way, Miranda almost didn’t know who she was without them. She’d never worked for anyone else. The last of her teenage years and her entire adult life had been shaped almost solely by Cerberus. She’d planned her whole future around advancing through their ranks, maybe even taking The Illusive Man’s place one day. Her life was her career, and her career was her life. She would have to rethink all of that now.

And then there was The Illusive Man. A man she’d spent most of the last nineteen years admiring as a leader and as a mentor. A man whose example she’d aspired to follow in many ways. Hell, he’d been more of a father to her than her own father had ever been, not that that was saying much.

For as mysterious and unknowable as he was, in all those long years that Miranda had worked for him, and worked for Cerberus, she’d never seen anything that would have led her to predict what happened back there. That they could have been worlds apart on such a fundamental issue.

Despite what other people thought about her, she had never been blindly loyal to Cerberus. She had her own thoughts. Her own opinions. Her own personal sense of right and wrong. Admittedly, ethics had always taken a backseat to pragmatism and necessity in her view, but the ends had to justify the means. The reason Cerberus operated outside the law was because the law got in the way of the greater good - of what needed to be done to protect human lives. 

If she had been unwavering in her commitment to Cerberus in the past, it was because they’d never given Miranda any reason not to be. Nothing she’d seen in the inner workings of the organisation had raised any alarms. She would have left years ago if she’d witnessed something she couldn’t tolerate. But she never had.

And yet, Miranda would have been lying if she claimed that The Illusive Man’s actions had come as a complete shock that day. They hadn’t. Maybe they would have a few months ago. But not now.

Ever since she’d joined the crew of the Normandy, Miranda had started to see sides to Cerberus she’d never seen before. Or rather, and more accurately, it had started to become untenable for every potential deal-breaker ever attributed to Cerberus to be conveniently blamed on rogue cells - people who had turned their back on The Illusive Man and acted without his knowledge or consent. How much longer could Miranda pretend to keep buying that excuse before she was officially part of the cult, refusing to accept the evidence of her own eyes and ears?

The truth had been right in front of Miranda the whole time, hadn’t it? If she went digging now, especially with the aid of the Shadow Broker, she was sure she would be able to find direct orders from The Illusive Man authorising all those projects he denied. Probably even the institution where Jack and those other biotic children had been tortured. She could have uncovered it all a long time ago. She’d just never wanted to see it before. 

Perhaps she really was the blind loyalist everyone else thought she was all along.

Perhaps she really was that big of a fool.

Miranda’s fingertips wearily caressed her brow one last time. So much for taking a break or relaxing. There would be none of that with such heavy thoughts taking a taxing toll on her.

There was only one person she could turn to when her mind was racing like this. One person who invariably made her feel better. Not by doing or saying anything. Just by being around. So she went to her, as she always did.

She found Samara at the window when she entered the Starboard Observation Deck, overlooking the abyss. Unusually, Samara seemed distracted. So much so that she didn’t even hear the doors hiss shut. Her sober expression betrayed a creeping malaise. Her posture was tense. Her unfocused eyes, quite literally staring into space. It was clear she was deep in introspection of some kind.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” Miranda broke the silence.

Her voice shook Samara from her rumination, prompting her to turn. Samara’s expression shifted, mustering a faint smile. “You are never a disturbance,” she said kindly, gesturing for Miranda to make herself at home.

“It’s funny. I think you’re the one person I’ve hardly seen since we made it back,” Miranda casually noted. Over the last couple of hours, she’d made herself scarce. 

“You are correct. Forgive me,” Samara gave a solemn nod, accepting that she had erred in shirking her responsibilities since returning to the ship. “I ought to have done more to assist with the repairs. I will not make any excuses for my absence.”

“I’m not going to write you up. Don’t worry about it.” Miranda nonchalantly waved off her apology, signalling that it was totally unnecessary. 

“You would for anyone else,” Samara pointed out knowingly.

“Well, for one thing, you’re not anyone else. For another, I wouldn’t be standing here right now if not for you. So consider this the least I can do for you,” said Miranda, stepping further into the room, until she joined Samara at the window. Besides, it wasn’t like she was giving her special treatment. Writing anyone up for anything seemed pretty pointless now. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yes,” Samara acknowledged, not one to lie.

“What have you been up to?” Miranda asked her, curious. It wasn’t accusatory in any way. But it wasn’t like Samara to run off to her corner and hide when there was work to be done. She must have had a good reason.

“I have been…thinking,” Samara answered pensively.

Her vagueness wasn’t lost on Miranda. “Thinking?” she echoed.

“Yes. There has been much I need to contemplate. Many things I was not prepared for...or did not expect to…” Samara trailed off, evidently at a loss for words, and visibly unsettled. Her expressions were always hard to read, but she looked troubled, as if she was trying to make sense of a paradox, fitting together incongruous pieces of information and finding only more questions.

Miranda’s features softened sympathetically, beginning to piece together a possible reason behind Samara’s abnormal behaviour. “I think we’re all a little shell-shocked after what happened. Doesn’t quite seem real does it - that we’re somehow all still standing?”

That response seemed to find purchase with Samara, putting her more at ease. “Indeed. Ever since you and Shepard first approached me on Illium and spoke to me of your quest to stop the Collectors, the odds of succeeding, let alone surviving, always seemed slim at best. I must confess, given the nature of the mission before us, I was not anticipating that…” Samara paused again, as if cautious to ensure she chose her words carefully, mindful to be neither tactless nor false in her speech.

“That we would all make it back in one piece?” Miranda finished on her behalf.

Samara gave a slightly apologetic nod. “Yes.”

“Yet here we are,” Miranda continued, gesturing offhandedly at their surroundings.

“Yet here we are,” Samara echoed, her words almost a whisper.

“Try not to sound so disappointed,” Miranda wryly remarked. Samara said nothing, staring out into the void in silence. “...It’s a joke,” Miranda broke the quiet, realising her attempt at humour hadn’t landed. “I forgot I shouldn’t do those.”

“No. I…” Samara shook her head, tearing her eyes away from the vastness of space at long last, turning sideways to face Miranda. “It is I who should apologise. Forgive me. I am...tired. I suspect more so than I even realise.”

Miranda wasn’t surprised to hear that. It didn’t take a genius to tell that she must have been shaken by all that had transpired. Hell, one look at her eyes was a dead giveaway as to how drained she was. It was the first time Miranda had ever seen Samara in such a state. But, after all she had undergone back at the base, who could blame her for not being at one hundred percent right now?

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I know it took a lot out of you, holding up that barrier. You’ve earned the right to rest and recover. And you know I wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t true, so…” Miranda studied Samara’s features, wondering if she was imposing. “Should I leave you?”

“No. Stay a while. Please,” Samara gestured for her to have a seat. Miranda raised her hand, preferring to stand. The view of the singularity was honestly striking. She may as well enjoy it while they were stranded here. Samara remained at her side, perhaps gradually clearing her head. “Is there truth to the rumours about what transpired between you and The Illusive Man?” she broke the silence.

“What are the rumours?” Miranda asked.

“That you terminated your employment,” Samara rather deftly summarised. 

Miranda snorted. “Well, we won’t be taking each other’s calls anymore. Put it that way.”

“Are you alright?” Samara asked, her concern genuine. She was one of the few who had never judged Miranda for her loyalty to Cerberus, despite their flaws.

“Yeah.” Miranda glanced down at her hands, her feelings certainly...mixed. Samara waited patiently, letting her decide whether she wished to speak more on the subject or not, and ready to lend an understanding ear if she did.

Miranda exhaled, interlocking her fingers, reflecting on everything that had happened since she first learned what the Reapers were. All this time, she had firmly believed The Illusive Man wanted to destroy them, just as he would want to eliminate any existential threat to humanity. That had been what he’d said all along. Or, wait, had he ever outright said that he intended to destroy them? Had he just implied it? Had Miranda read into his words what she wanted to hear?

But if Cerberus wanted to keep that base, to ‘turn their own resources against them’ as The Illusive Man had said, was their ultimate goal something else entirely? To create their own Reaper, like Shepard had remarked? To control the Reapers? To use them to take control of the galaxy? To wipe out the other races? Miranda didn’t know for sure, but if it was anything like that then it didn’t even need to be said that she couldn’t permit any of those things to happen. 

The best case scenario was that they were still ultimately on the same side, but that The Illusive Man was just so fixated on his desire to fight the Reapers that he couldn’t see that there was no possible benefit to keeping the base. Just risk, and unconscionable slaughter, and a betrayal of everything they had fought for, and all the lives lost to the Collectors. Part of Miranda hoped that was all it was - that maybe they didn’t have to be enemies. But, after everything that had happened, everything she’d seen, it was increasingly untenable not to at least suspect that there was something more sinister going on behind the scenes.

“Samara, be honest with me,” Miranda began, knowing she didn’t even need to make that request of her. She was never anything less than truthful. “I don’t strike you as someone who is particularly stupid or gullible, do I?”

“No, you do not,” Samara answered frankly, as if that question never needed to be asked. “You know very well that I consider you precisely the opposite.”

“So then how is it that I can work for the same people for nineteen years, and yet be so...staggeringly ignorant as to their true nature and motives?” Miranda asked aloud, wondering how many obvious signs she must have missed along the way.

“And what are their true motives?” Samara prompted.

“Honestly? I haven’t got the slightest fucking clue anymore. And that’s what scares me.” Miranda scoffed under her breath, shaking her head. “Actually, you know what? It isn’t. The thing that really makes my skin crawl is not knowing…” She paused and swallowed mid-sentence. “Is not knowing whether and to what extent I’ve been complicit in helping them accomplish things that I would never - never have supported if I knew about them.”

Samara understood completely why that thought would trouble Miranda so. She took time to reflect on the matter before offering a considered response.

“Based on what information EDI has been willing to share since her restraints were removed, it appears as though Cerberus personnel were separated into discrete cells, all of whom were unaware of the existence of any others. While the primary motivation for this may have been to ensure no single individual had sufficient knowledge to compromise the entire organisation, I believe this also had another purpose,” Samara speculated. “That purpose being that each cell could represent an entirely different face of Cerberus - one that appealed entirely to the morality, beliefs and motives of the personnel assigned to it.”

That made a startling amount of sense, Miranda thought. The cerberus of myth did have multiple heads, and thus multiple faces.

“That would explain why there were so many conflicting versions of Cerberus out there,” Miranda mused aloud, curling her fingers against her chin. “The terrorists. The mad scientists. The racist xenophobes. I always brushed those accusations off as misrepresentations and bad press, because the organisation I knew was different. Not terrorists, but people willing to defend human lives when the Alliance wasn’t. Not mad scientists, but cutting-edge pioneers. Not racist xenophobes, but human beings who didn’t want to be treated as second-class citizens in the galactic community. But there were probably others out there who only knew Cerberus to be one or more of those other things. Who am I kidding? Those kinds of people probably only joined Cerberus because of those things - because that was what they thought its true nature was all along.”

“That is what I suspect,” Samara concurred.

“So, if you’re right, then what you’re saying is, the Cerberus I believed I was working for this whole time did exist, in a way. Everything I thought about them was true, from a certain point of view. But so were all the other things I dismissed as falsehoods and slander. I could just never see it, because the full picture was always deliberately hidden from me,” Miranda inferred.

“Yes,” Samara confirmed, quietly confident that Miranda would have seen through the façade and defected earlier had it been presented to her otherwise. “If I am not mistaken, then you have been no more complicit in Cerberus’s hidden agendas - whatever they may be - than Shepard or myself have been.”

Miranda’s expression shifted, not entirely sure she could believe that, but oddly comforted by Samara’s sentiment nonetheless. “Thanks,” she said, relieved to at least have some semblance of an answer for how she’d gotten so sucked in, and how she’d failed to recognise the truth. Even if it later turned out to be wrong, it was something to hold onto for now. And, if nothing else, at least Samara still seemed to think she was a good person, despite everything. 

Perhaps there was a silver lining to all this. Now that Miranda saw the truth of what Cerberus was, rather than being blinded by allegiance, if anyone was equipped to fully understand The Illusive Man’s goals and expose this organisation for what it really was, it was her. She felt something of a duty to do it now - to figure out exactly what aims she’d been unwittingly enabling.

It wouldn’t be easy, and Miranda knew damn well The Illusive Man would try everything in his power to kill her rather than risk her exposing his secrets. But since when had Miranda ever been afraid of a challenge? If her life was the only thing she had to lose, then The Illusive Man had more to fear from her than she had to fear from him. But following that path now would put her friends at risk.

Another time, then.

Following that, a delayed thought occurred to Miranda. “You’ve been asking EDI about Cerberus?” she asked, her brow creasing in puzzlement.

“I have. Although, I confess, my inquiries garnered little valuable information before her restraints were removed,” Samara answered calmly.

Miranda regarded her with some confusion. In all the time they’d spent together, Samara had never shown any real curiosity about Cerberus. She couldn’t recall her raising the subject, despite having ample opportunity to do so. “Why?”

“Because you worked for them,” Samara replied, meeting her gaze, her tone unchanging. “Because they were important to you.”

“Why EDI, though?” Miranda asked, perplexed. There was nothing accusatory in her questions, nor defensive for that matter. She had no issues with Samara finding out whatever she wanted to know about Cerberus from whoever she wanted to ask. It just struck her as odd, was all. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Samara’s gaze dipped. “Because I was afraid of the answers,” she admitted.

In light of recent events, Miranda couldn’t exactly fault that explanation. “Hmm. Fair enough. As it turns out, your concerns may not have been unfounded.”

“In some respects, they were not,” Samara acknowledged. After a moment, she raised her head once more. “In others, I have been glad to find that they were. And that I had nothing to fear,” she said, holding Miranda’s gaze as she spoke.

Samara didn’t say it out loud, but the meaning wasn’t lost on Miranda. Miranda didn’t know much about Samara’s Code, but she recalled every element of their conversation about it earlier that day. About how she couldn’t hesitate in enforcing its tenets. About how she had to put it first, before everything. Above her own personal thoughts and feelings. Even above the life of a friend.

While the requirements of the Code remained a mystery to Miranda, if it was in any way moral or just - which, by her conduct and character, Samara certainly seemed to evidence that it was - then there was no way in hell that the Code could have permitted something like, say, leaving the Collector Base intact.

The thought must have crossed Samara’s mind at some point, however reluctant she would have been to consider it. If Cerberus’s true intentions were sinister, and if Miranda and Shepard knew of those intentions, condoned them, and supported them, then no matter how close they had grown as friends, they would have to part as enemies. If they hadn’t destroyed that base, and if Miranda hadn’t turned her back on The Illusive Man when he showed his true colours, then the next time Samara saw them, she would probably have had to kill them.

It must have been a relief for Samara to know that that wasn’t the case, and to have her faith in her friends proven justified. A small smile tugged at Miranda’s lip, touched that Samara had believed in her right from the start, and taken the chance to get to know her, even knowing the risk that it could all have backfired.

Even if nothing else good came from learning the truth about Cerberus, seeing just how deeply Samara had trusted that Miranda would make the right decision if faced with a choice like that, even if it meant turning her back on Cerberus in order to do the right thing, was reward enough. Truthfully, Samara had believed that about Miranda long before Miranda would have believed it about herself.

“Anyway, we’re on our own now. I know Shepard has told The Illusive Man as much,” Miranda finished the thought, glancing over at Samara once more. “Have you given any thought to what you’ll do next?”

Her question caught Samara off guard. “...I...I had not,” Samara admitted. After gazing past her reflection for a moment, she stood a little straighter, hands clasped behind her back. “I have only one path to follow, and that is the Code. I would not have survived this day if the Goddess did not see a higher purpose for me - somewhere the need is very great. I will go wherever I am called.”

“But you don’t know where that is yet?” Miranda intuited.

Samara hesitated, her shoulders sinking slightly, evidently not used to feeling...aimless. “No. I do not. Although I have faith those answers will crystallise in time.”

“Well, if it helps, I may have a temporary solution…” Miranda began. “I haven’t talked this over with Shepard yet, but there are still several outstanding tasks we never got around to completing - leads from Cerberus, mostly. I know I’m no longer working for them, but now that we know we can’t trust them, I’d rather resolve these matters before they do. And, for the matters that don’t involve Cerberus, hey, at least we’ll still be helping people,” Miranda explained. It wasn’t lost on her that the fact she saw that as enough reason to act was evidence of just how much Shepard had rubbed off on her. She really had changed.

Samara said nothing, maintaining her focus dead ahead. 

“I know that the mission you swore an oath to Shepard for is over, so you’re under no obligation to follow her any longer,” Miranda continued. “But, if you don’t currently have any plans, and it wouldn’t be in conflict with your Code, then, as second-in-command of this ship, allow me be the first to let you know that you’re more than welcome to stay here for as long as you want.”

Samara glanced up, her expression unreadable as she met Miranda’s eyes.

Miranda’s posture softened slightly, abandoning any pretext that this was a purely professional request. “I’d be extremely grateful if you stayed,” she admitted, not ready to say goodbye to their friendship just yet. Spending time in Samara’s company was the one thing she looked forward to more than anything else most days. “It wouldn’t be the same here without you.”

It really wouldn’t have been. Maybe nobody else would think of her the same way, but for Miranda, Samara was like the heart of The Normandy. She just had this...indescribable presence that radiated warmth and comfort. Without having to say a word, she had a way of brightening Miranda’s gloomiest days, and of showing Miranda the way when it felt like she was lost in the dark.

This room had become Miranda’s safe place, not because there was anything special about the Starboard Observation Deck, but because Samara was here, her door always open, for whatever she needed.

Judging from her reaction, Samara had not been expecting that invitation. An answer seemed to catch in her throat, as if she didn’t know how to respond. Miranda began to regret that perhaps she had sprung this on her too quickly, before she’d had enough time to recover from the mission, and plan that far ahead.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to put any pressure on you,” Miranda spoke gently, not so self-centred as to impose her wishes on Samara, especially if it placed her in an awkward position with respect to her Code. She respected her too much for that, no matter how much she would miss her. “I understand if you can’t--”

“No, I…” Samara interjected, shaking her head as if to clear the cobwebs that had slowed her usually sharp mind. “There is no conflict here. The Collectors may have been stopped, but the greater threat remains at large.”

“The Reapers,” Miranda stated on her behalf.

“Yes,” Samara confirmed, the weight of that ever-looming enemy lingering like a presence in the air. “Until such time as the Goddess calls me elsewhere, I would be honoured to continue to aid you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Miranda enthused, though despite being pleased by her response, it hadn’t escaped her notice that something was still...off about Samara. She couldn’t put her finger on it, exactly. Just something in her facial expressions, and the tone of her voice. She was right there beside her in the same room, yet it felt like she was a thousand miles away.

“Hey…” Miranda reached out, gently placing a hand on Samara’s back. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Miranda asked, her questioning more serious than before, perfectly willing to lend an ear to her friend if something was awry, just as Samara had so often been a confidant for her.

“It is kind of you to worry. But I am alright. It has simply...been an eventful day,” Samara assured her, summoning a smile, appreciating her concern. “I have kept you long enough. I should like to meditate alone for a while, if there is nothing you require of me.”

“Of course. Go ahead. And take as much time as you need to recover. The ship is going to get repaired tomorrow with or without you, even if I have to fix it myself,” Miranda promised, not at all surprised to think that Samara needed some space to regather her equilibrium and come to terms with the fact that they had survived the impossible. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Samara stayed by the window as Miranda took her leave, the doors closing shut behind her.

If Miranda had stayed a few moments longer, she would have seen Samara’s masquerade fall as the hollowness returned her face, and her resolve crack as she reached out and braced herself against the wall to keep from crumbling.

All the certainty Samara had felt earlier that day had shattered like glass at her feet, a million little fragments scattered into the sand. For reasons she could not understand, she had emerged from her date with destiny unscathed.

Why? Why was she still here? What purpose did this serve?

Was this a punishment, perhaps? Was her penance for her sins incomplete? It had to be. Samara could find no other explanation that would suffice.

So, she had been arrogant, then. Celebrating too soon that which she did not yet deserve. It seemed a cruel joke to think of it now. She had found so much peace, tranquility and relief in the inevitability of her own end. But that release had been denied to her. And, now, instead of finding the courage to die with dignity, Samara now had to process that she had a far harder task ahead of her.

Somehow, someway, she had to find the strength to keep living.

*     *     *

[wwounu]

It felt suffocating without Wonwoo. He hadn’t shown up for days.

You would’ve thought it was just a sickness, but Wonwoo could handle his immune system well even on down days, and when the class asks about the teacher’s absence to Minguk, he simply shrugs, juts out a bottom lip. “Dunno.” He says sadly.

Something didn’t feel correct. You weren’t left with answers or clues as to why Wonwoo has technical gone missing for a while now. The thought bothered you for days, even during your multiple of jobs.

The money was saved for good use, and this time you were sure that it was protected from your sibling until your family was stable enough to live on without you having to work for their stability in the future.

Daycare didn’t feel the same when Wonwoo wasn’t around. Days remained bright with the children, but when they began to miss him too, you were worried.

It took a toll on you somewhere through the week, thinking of what Wonwoo’s doing, thinking if he’s sleeping well, thinking if he’s getting enough sun and seeing Minguk as he regularly should. They were all excuses to make up the fact you were really thinking about him, but it would sound silly to be thinking of the guy who hasn’t communicated you in a while.

Maybe he was tired of you; that sounded right. Maybe, you imagined, he had grown to realise that you weren’t worth any time and that he wasted his time raising money for you, and that you let your walls down to yet another person who was only pitying you this whole time. Nothing about the thought was pleasant, Wonwoo was never like that, but the thoughts hit you like a brick and claw at your mind until it becomes a sick, twisted version of something you’ve loathed of thinking about—

“Excuse me?“

“Oh my gosh-” You shake out of your deep thought, collecting yourself and you bow to the customer in front of you, “I’m so sorry sir,” You confess, which you realised the slight shakiness in you, “I’m sorry for your wait. What would you like?”

Due to not raising your head, the customer requests. “For starters I wouldn’t really like to be called ’sir’ right now,” Confused, you look up, even more puzzled by the sight of Mingyu in front of you, “I’d like to keep it casual please.”

Half laughing, you do as he says, continuing the casual conversation as no one was queuing up in the shop. “Okay Mingyu — Are we okay using a first-name basis?”

“By all means.”

“What would it be for you today?”

“Sherbet and oreo ice cream please.”

Impressed, you give a look, “A regular huh? How come I’ve never seen you here before?”

Mingyu answers while you proceed to serve the ice creams. “I come here all the time, I should be asking you why I’ve never seen you around… Do you work late?”

“No, only during mornings.”

“Bingo.” Mingyu snaps his fingers. “I don’t go in the mornings. It’s always during late afternoons to midnight.”

“And you happen to come here…”

“Yeah.”

“Small world.”

“Small world,” Mingyu repeats, smiling. You continue the small talk for a while, not hinting on the topic that’s been lingering in the air.

“Here you are.” Pushing the cup to him, you add the spoons. As he reaches for his wallet to pay you, you ask, “For your girlfriend?”

Mingyu pays, waiting for you to put the money in the cash register. “No.” He answers, pushing it back to you. “For you, actually.”

Surprised by the gesture, you stare down at the oreo ice cream and a sorrowful look comes forth on your face.

“You look down.” Mingyu observes. “Thought that might cheer you up.”

Smiling apologetically, you take a bite out of the desert and reminisce a memory in an empty classroom of two, with juice boxes and oreos. “Thanks,” You say, keeping your thoughts to yourself. It was best to ask Mingyu. He was your only bridge that would hopefully give you some answers. “Say, Min-“

“If you’re asking me about Wonwoo, you already know the answer. He needs some time to himself right now, but it’s not because of you, trust me.”

“How would you know?”

“He’s my roommate. Do you think I can’t get a hint? Plus, it’s you and ‘Woo.”

“Touché.” Voicing familiar words and ignoring what Mingyu said towards the end, there was a small pang in your heart.

“Are you having your break soon?” Mingyu pops the question.

Looking at the clock behind you, you answer, “My shift ends in a few minutes.”

“Come with me. Our friends are meeting up in the park, you should come.”

“No… It’s fine Mingyu-“

“You’ve been worrying about him. The only way to stop the worries is to see him for yourself, correct?”

You untie your apron, moving your lips to the side. “I’m not saying you’re totally correct, but… I’ll agree with you.”

“Great! Oh, um, one more thing.”

You hum.

He hands you extra money, sheepishly smiling. “Can I have one more chocolate chip ice cream? It’s for my girlfriend.”

Stepping into the park felt strange. You had never felt so tense to see Wonwoo after a while, and something in the back of your made made you want to bail out last minute.

But Mingyu wasn’t stopping you any time soon, he was too busy in the moment talking about his girlfriend and his ‘friend who is his enemy’ for that whole period. The two of you stop at a basketball court, where you see all of his friends sit around or play on court, trying to chase for the ball to shoot.

Wonwoo was playing — More like standing, as he was talking to two people you hadn’t seen before. “He’s over there talking to Josh and Jihoon.” Mingyu says to you, but it was useless since you didn’t know anyone except for Wonwoo. “Hey Wonwoo!” Mingyu yells out.

“Hey Wonwoo, catch!” Another voice calls and Wonwoo looks to them first, puzzled as he holds the basketball in his hands, not knowing what to do with it. He turns to Mingyu, but spots you, who’s looking back at him.

Not knowing what to do, you run to Wonwoo and the latter drops the ball as you jump into his grasp, holding him tight like nights before. “You piece of shit,” You mumble breathlessly, “I’ve been trying to reach you for ages…”

Baffled on how to react, he softly apologises. “I’m… I’m sorry Y/N, I’ve been having a busy week with my essays and I-“

“I miss you.” You admit, silencing him. “Thank you — thank you Wonwoo — for doing everything for me, for going out of your way to control my situation than what it used to be,” God, you were crying now, “I’m so sorry you had to do so much for me, I don’t deserve it. I don’t know how to repay you — I’ll never know how-“

Wonwoo holds onto you, pulling yourselves closer. Resting his chin on your shoulder he says. “Stay. I like it like this.”

Nothing seemed to matter at that moment. As cliché as it may be, you found yourself at peace with Wonwoo, like a missing puzzle piece fitting together or an idea that clicks into place. In that moment, everything felt right, it felt wonderful, even breathing felt good.

“Jeonghan! Hey, Yoon Jeonghan! I need you to help me with… Is that Oreo and Wonwoo?!”

“Oh god,” Wonwoo says in your ear, “my best friend.”

“She saw didn’t she?” You reply, giggling in embarrassment as you feel Wonwoo’s nod. “We should let go shouldn’t we…”

“Unless you like us like this.”

“Introduce me to your friends?”

“Are you sure? Your life is going to be a lot more messier with them.”

“I can handle it. You’re the award in the end, right?”

Wonwoo chuckles, letting go of the hug and he introduces you to his spread out friends, meeting them one by one — Another surprise from Wonwoo was how some of his friends were people you didn’t expect (Junhui mainly, but thats maybe because you’ve watched his drama too).

Wonwoo explains to you that one of his friend’s was somewhere else for an entrance exam, and you would’ve been fine with it, if it wasn’t for the fact Wonwoo pulled out his phone and video called his friend — Whose name is Soonyoung and is your favourite out of his friends (excluding Goblin) — just so he could introduce him to you. Of course, Wonwoo would go the extra mile.

(Soonyoung screamed for most of the video call, but you enjoyed it nonetheless).

“And finally,” Wonwoo announces.

“Yeah, took your sweet time.” Goblin sticks her tongue out, swinging her legs off the bench before smiling to you.

“Y/N, meet Gob-“

“Can I steal Wonwoo for a little bit? A bit important here.” Seungcheol jumps in, placing both hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders before pulling him apart from you, moving to the huddle of boys who would look like a gang if it wasn’t for their goofing around.

Goblin pulls you down onto the bench, shooting you with compliments and twinkles in her eyes. She introduces herself again, formally, and begins talking to about Wonwoo and how she’ll be spilling all of his secrets to you. You liked that deal already.

While talking, you see another girl skip down to the group and waltzes to Mingyu, her pretty smile fading when he looks at her, mouthing ‘Ew’ at the male. Mingyu sighs at the action and holds up the semi-melted ice cream in front of her, which made the latter smile shyly, and lean in for a light peck on his lips, skipping to you and Goblin.

“Hey!” She greets, gasping once she looks at you. “You’re the girl Mingyu’s been on about a lot!”

“Me?” You ask.

“He tells me everything about Wonwoo, it’s like he’s love struck for him.” The girl fake gags before eating her ice cream, letting you smile and for Goblin to laugh loudly.

“We’ve all had to choose hot messes, right?” Goblin sighs, stealing some of Mingyu’s girlfriend’s ice cream.

You hum, unconsciously staring at Wonwoo’s back, “I think I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

The girls coo at you whilst you hide your embarrassed face, laughing in unison.

On Wonwoo’s side, everyone had been picking fun at the male.

“You never told me about this!” Junhui exclaims animatedly, swinging his arms before pointing at all of the boys. “Who knew-“ Jeonghan, Chan and Mingyu put their hands up, “Traitors.”

“And Soonyoung, but here’s not here.” Wonwoo adds.

“Soonyoung?!” Wonwoo shrugs again at all of their reactions — he was thankful the male went so he wouldn’t have had to spill anything.

“Wonwoo actually has a love life…” Jihoon states, amazed. “And I still don’t have one.” Minghao, hearing this, snickers and hangs an arm around Jihoon (he didn’t really like it but he could tolerate the taller).

“Is she officially your girlfriend now?” Seungkwan snoops, smiling creepily. Seokmin nudges him to stop freaking Wonwoo out. “Look, he’s turning red!”

“Ah you guys, you made him turn red,” Mingyu scolds, crossing his arms, “I’m the one who has to deal with this when we go home.”

“Guys she isn’t my girlfriend-” Wonwoo mumbles, embarrassed as he tries to hide his face.

The rest of them either laugh or coo him, nudging him, punching his arm, even messing up with his hair and pinching his cheeks (Wonwoo is so going to take revenge on Seungcheol).

Wonwoo scratches his head, awkwardly looking around until he says, “Hm, not yet anyway.”

And the rest group go crazy.

Crazy, meaning clowning Wonwoo for such a ridiculous line.

“Should I ask ‘Han what’s going on?” Goblin pouts.

Mingyu’s girlfriend shakes her head, “Best not to… But I’m dragging Mingyu out there before he gets grumpy — I’ll see you guys later! Nice meeting you Y/N!”

“Uh — You too!”

Once all the chaos had calmed down, everyone had began to leave in groups for tomorrow’s coming, and you had your chance to be alone with Wonwoo.

“Hi.” You nudge his leg with your foot. Wonwoo squints and does the same, echoing your words. “Now that we’re on talking terms again…” You surprise him by squishing his cheeks together, “Let’s go somewhere.”

“Where?” He says, disjointed.

You let go, opening your arms out. “I dunno, anywhere!” Giggling, you twirl and almost trip over your feet.

“Free spirited all of a sudden?”

“Because of you. I’ve let go of my worries for today, and I want to spend it with you.”

“Well then. Wherever you’ll go, I’ll follow.”

Placing a finger on your chin, thinking hard, you think of ideas where to go next. When you do, you look over at Wonwoo with a confident look he finds adorable.

“Got it — Minguk’s house. He’s been thinking about his Uncle Woo a lot and wants to see him again.” You say, staring at the male. You whisper, “Don’t tell him that though, he told me to keep it a secret…”

“Of course. I’ve missed him too.”

Thus, beginning your walk to the destination. Whilst focusing on the sound of your shoes stepping on the stone and the shadows moving along you in the bright yellow glow, Wonwoo turns his head and smirks a little without your realisation.

“What about you? Have you been thinking about me too?”

Huffing to cover up a tempting smile, you answer him. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about my Wonyu a lot.”

And in the golden glow and breeze, nothing between the two of you couldn’t get anymore beautiful.

OPPOSITES ATTRACT PART SIXTEEN — Intimidating!Wonwoo x Easy-Going!Reader

a small cameo i see?

one • two • three • four • five • six • seven • eight • eight ½ • nine • nine ½ • ten • eleven •  eleven ½ • twelve • thirteen • fourteen • fifteen • fifteen ¼ • fifteen ¾ • sixteen • sixteen ½

masterlist

[unholyhelbig]

Bechloe "Oh, you're the camp counselor my little sibling keeps talking about?"

Check out my AO3 | Request prompts here

[A/N: I’m going to try to get to more prompts lately, but I also just moved across the country, so my life is a little hectic.]

The heat coiled around every inch of Beca Mitchell,who was at this point, regretting her choice of attire. The jeans wereexcusable, but the black t-shirt was like a beacon for the sun. It made anyexposed skin sweat and her mouth dry as she squinted at the stage.

It had been constructed well, to a certain degree. The woodcould hold the weight of all the campers that dared step foot upon it, eventhough it groaned in protest. A white banner was sloppily painted on the words Talent Show slathered in forest green. Little handprints were pressed around thewords in primary colors and Beca found it endearing for the most part- if notfor the heat.

She had sat througha couple of singing acts. A girl with a pet tea-cup pig that she had trained tojump through a low-hanging hoop. And a very painful magic actthat had everyone shielding their eyes before her little sister took thestage. Beca instantly bubbled with pride as the first few notes of the songthey had spent hours practicing silenced the audience.

Thea Mitchell was anatural.

Everyone stood andapplauded, and she beamed while tucking her hands behind her back and rockingon the balls of her feet. Beca had placed two fingers in her mouth and let outa loud whistle for her younger sister- the girl so hellbent on blowing everyoneout of the water for her day camps talent show. It paid off, just seeing thepure glint in her eyes.

The MC strolledback on stage, ushering her sister towards the edge of the stage while thecrowd of parents with video cameras heckled her for an encore that Beca wassure would be the same exact some. (It was the only one she taught her, butafter today, that was sure to change.)

“let me see yourface?” Beca had dropped to one knee on the grassy area the second she wasallowed. Thea had pushed the guitar around to her back- it was almost as big asshe was, being tiny for six, just like Beca had been when she attended day camphere. The world was swarming around her, parents producing flowers and themagician searching around his velvet hat for a bunny that Beca prayed hadescaped. “Come on, let me see it.”

Beca cupped herlittle sisters face gently and tilted it to one side, making a huge show ofsquinting at her sun-reddened cheeks before moving to the other side. “hmm,”

“Get off, what areyou doing?” Thea used her hands to shove Beca off with annoyance. She foldedher hands over her chest and pouted her lips. Beca lifted her own hands insurrender as she leaned back on one ankle.

“Oh, just checkingfor the lipstick marks of all your adoring fans, T.” Beca stated, giving off achildish grin. “No seriously, you were great! Better than great. I think youtook Peter and his magic act to school.”

Thea giggled asBeca rose to her feet and ruffled the kid’s hair to push her even further. Thatwas one of Beca’s earliest memories, her father always scuffing up her perfectcurls until she found it less annoying and more endearing. Thea still found itirritating apparent by the huff of air and work through she gave her locks.

“To be fair,anything was better than Peter rustling up that rabbit.”

Beca glanced behindher. A woman: a woman that wasn’t carrying a paisley print bag and an extrabucket of sunscreen for her kid. Not someone with braces and a logoed shirteither- this was an honest to God woman and a hot one at that.  

Her hair was likefire, burning so bright it could shift to blue. It cascaded along her shouldersand popped against the dark yellow t-shirt that hugged her frame. A logo thatlooked like it was painted by the same hands as the banner sprawled close toher chest. She beamed, maybe even brighter than the sun.

“Hi, I’m Chloe.”She held out her hand. “I’m the music director here.”

Beca straightenedher stance completely. This was the Chloe that Thea wouldn’t stop talking aboutever. She would hum along and dish out mashed potatoes and cut up hersisters’ chicken while she went on and on about how good Chloe was at singing.How she wanted to impress Chloe with what she learned- how she undoubtedly had.

She thought Chloewould be some upper-aged woman with four cats and a kind voice. The latter wascorrect, but the rest was- the rest was obscure to who she was staring at now.

“Beca Mitchell” Shemanaged. She took Chloe’s hand in hers and tried to silence her brain, the onlythought that echoed was about how soft her touch was. “So, you’re the campcounselor my little sister keeps talking about.”

“Then that mustmake you the hot shot producer Thea talks up.” Chloe shot back effortlessly ashe retreated her touch and shoved her hands into her pockets. “You’ve gotyourself an excellent wing woman there, Beca.”

She rose both eyebrowsand felt the subtle tug of her pant leg. Thea looked up at her with deepmidnight eyes and a sly smile on her face. That little devil knew exactly whatshe was doing- but Beca couldn’t help but be mad when the guitar on her backwas nearly weighing her down with effort.

“Can I go saygoodbye to Abby and Heather?” She said, voice cheerful.

Beca barely got achance to nod before her sister was off, suddenly less slowed by the instrumentas she called out behind her, telling her to stay in sight range. She got ahalf-hearted response before watching as she dashed off completely to be withanother counselor and her two friends. Her chest swelled once more at how easyit was for Thea to actually acquire acquaintances. Not like her at that age.She barely registered Chloe saying something.

“Huh?” She finallyblinked. Okay, maybe not at thisage either.

Chloe laughed, anangelic sound. “I was saying that you’re really good with her.”

“Thanks,” she foundher voice once more. “She’s a good kind, considering.”

There wasn’t muchto consider at this point: Beca moving back to Georgia short notice after a callfrom child protective services. Her father in some ten-step program that shedidn’t put much faith into- and her mother unreachable. Thea had been throughenough.  The least she could do was giveher a normal childhood.

“I wasn’t lyingwhen she said she talked you up.” Chloe started, lifting her chin towards thetables lined with cheap plastic sheets. They blew in the wind, held down bystacks of napkins and little foil wrapped weights with confetti. Artificialorange juice sat in plastic cups and sleeves of cookies waited to bedigested. “She thinks very highly of you.”

“Of me? Please, I’mpretty sure you’re the main topic of dinner conversation every night. The kiddoesn’t shut up.”

“Juice?”

“Sure, thanks.”

She remembered thetaste, the artificial orange that took her back to camps like this. But it wentdown smoothly, no matter how much she wished it was spiked with something.Getting one look at the volunteers face she knew that she was pining for thesame thing.

“I heard you have avery nice singing voice, Chloe.”

“mm, it’s nothingto cry home about.” She swallowed a gulp of the neon drink. “I think anything willsound good to a group of six-year-olds.”

Beca scoffed and ranher thumb down the cooled grooved edge of the plastic cup. She didn’t think shecould stomach the sugary drink much longer, not in this heat. “I highly doubtthat, Chloe. I’m pretty sure a music teacher needs to have some decent vocals.”

“Huh, supposed you’renot wrong.” There was a beat of silence before she narrowed her eyes “Prettybold of you to teach a kid anotherone bites the dust. It’s a good karaokesong, though.”

“Damn straight,”Beca puffed out her chest. You couldn’t’ go wrong with Queen. Not now, or ever,though she made it a point not to teach Thea the lyrics. “Is that your go to?”

Chloe nodded with abroadened smile and Beca could imagine her wrapping the mic cord around herfist and happily belting out the words while people cheered, and fairy lights twinkledbehind her. She would bet a pretty penny that Chloe didn’t’ even need theteleprompter. “The best karaoke song, hands down.”

Beca again liftedher eyebrows at the woman. “Here hold this.”  

“What are you doing?”Chloe asked, taking the plastic cup filled with juice.

“Walking away from someonewho doesn’t know the best song is Ring of Fire.”

The camp counselorstepped in front of her, and Beca smiled at the quick movement, not calculated,but still careful not to spill anything. “Want to test that theory then?”

“What? Right here?Because I would hate to knock Peter down a few pegs with the judges. He’s onlya kid, you know?”

“No,” She laughedplayfully “Tomorrow night. If you’re up for the challenge.”

Beca stared at thewoman, so effortlessly gorgeous against the heat of the summer day. A woman shehad heard so much about, but never had the pleasure to meet. A girl she absolutely wanted to school in the art of Karaoke. “Well, how could I say no?”

[polygon-streams]

April 21st, 2019 - Pat’s Easter/Post 4/20 Donk Souls Stream

Pat played another stream of Donk Souls, back again with Magnum Jr. Stream went on for a little over 3 1/2 hours, so there’s quite a bit to note

Recaps a bit on yesterday's stream, telling the story of Magnum Jr.

Is interrupted by piss as he explains how he wants to find a loincloth for Magnum Jr, we are still on the fight for as naked of a Kong as possible

"Suns out guns out here in Lothric" - Pat, 2k19

Thanks some good subbers

Waluigi subbed up, thank you Waluigi

Vordt of the Boreal Valley is a fun name

"Hey.. hey, man.. hey.... alright bye, guess I'll see you later, man." - Pat @ a skeleton lookin’ enemy who walked away from him

Magnum Jr. has an arrow through his neck is he ok

4/20 was successful because he didn’t do weed due to it being an illegal criminal activity

"I don't want to perry.. what do i look like... Matthew?"

Has a very long stare at the chat ".................Matthew Perry"

Bonk bonk bonk souls

Gives a few more gifted sub shoutouts

Half-logan?

( Chunk of the stream is missing about right here. Only about 30 minutes, sorry about that )

He doesn’t drop pants

Beeline for vort

Memeshart is giving good gamer advice ( I’m sorry Pat, we all know Memeshart is the supreme gamer here )

“I got vorted” - Pat Gill, 2k19

Let’s fucking go, Pat can do it, we got this

Pat has fought this Vordt X times

“Juice time, baby, juice me” - also Pat, 2k19

He’s having more trouble than usual bc his other characters wore clothes

Vordt Souls

RP: do you guys know my dad?

Hums to konkey dong

X is your uber ride, am outside

God dammit, dogs. He’s killing the bone dogs.

One of this weird turtleback men is actually my friends that wants to hang out with me

Does that make me into beef jerky? I want my Kong to be fresh

More dog hate. He’s getting mauled by dogs. “Please lord of Dark Souls don’t let these dogs kill me”

“Why can’t I use ember? Is it because I already am bird shit?” nice joke.

Tropical freeze is such a good soundtrack. He’s done into the past and he may switch to it towards the end

He wants to bottle feed the kittens. He feels the best way to get a kitten to drink out of the bottle is by convincing them they really don’t want it to drink out of the bottle

Just realized he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on in this game after noticing for the first time a person is growing into a plant. Now he’s wondering why the people in this town are turning into trees. Angel b: they’ve commited treason greatest victory : they’re turning over a new leaf

He wants to make today and tomorrow pizza days. And he’s got a big thing of lactaid so he’s set to commit this mistake

He’s working on the environmental storytelling. That’s why he likes it, you have to put it together

If Ken Levine made this game he’d had made it clear by writing on a wall or something but not here

Dark Souls II: spooky stuff here in dark souls. That’s why the game is not called light and breezy souls

He got box stabbed, but he’s having a nice time souls

“This is my friend, Johnny, get it?” - We didn’t get it

“This is my friend, David”

“This is also my friend, Nick”

“Johnny cage.. because it’s a bunch of people in a cage” ( can confirm joke landed only for like two people )

This area gives Bloodborne vibes. Sorta medieval Bloodborne

“I’m not gonna use the whip”

jk he might try

Important update: Charles is sneezing

Camera angle is not in Pat’s favor up in this ruins and he hates it

He doesnt wanna fight anyone called Hodrick

We’re gonna avoid Hodrick and go fight a giant shooting arrows from a tower

22.32 Bijan is here

Memeshart is a consultant-- Pat is calling on memeshart like an Alexa

“Memeshart, play Despacito” Another great joke, Patrick

We’re testing Memeshart’s knowledge boundaries

Memeshart lore: They were picked up from a shipwreck by the current memeshart

Pat doesn’t remember this part being so annoying ( he also doesn’t remember he had clothes for the other characters )

Again with the Johnny/David/Nicholas Cage joke ( but now we all got it )

He’s avoiding killing non hostiles ( he definitely killed them in his main files, though )

Grim Acceptance: The emotion that bopping to The Entire Buck Bumble Theme for 3000 Bits elicits

He’s not particularly excited for the Sega Genesis mini. He didn’t have a Sega so he’s not particularly nostalgic

Bastard Sword: “I am kind of a bastard.”

22.48 Faith’s here

X i s one of hs favorite tracks in the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack

dumbassrights was gifted a sub. a good username, we can all agree

Unspoken chat rule: You aren’t allowed to say you got pizza without also saying the toppings

“He- he packed a bowl, but it was 420 yesterday!” - Pat

Very close to having the loincloth

“Love a big rat”

He doesn’t lock on a lot of enemies, especially big enemies, with enemies surrounding

Even more dog hate. Sorry, can’t relate.

Onion man is with us. he did not help with dog enemy.

“This guy sounds like Paul F. Tompkins doing Alan Thicke”

He’s good friends with the big archer giant. Friendship goals.

Bijan: “Can anyone explain the plot of Dark Souls?” Pat: “No.”

“It’s time to probably die”

Onion man is sleeping, chat decides to spam z for good slumbers

Lore check: this is the son of Magnum Kong , Magnum Kong Junior and he’s trying to find his dad, his papa, his daddy.

Went full “That’s rough, buddy” with “They really just tied a bunch of people to these burning wheels, huh….. rough..”

“I’m not good at archery, but the point is not about doing well, it’s about having fun.”

( sees enemies ) ( gasp ) two of them! ( dies )

Memeshart comes in again to say Pat missed a chest. Thank you for your service, Memeshart

Memeshart was right ( as always )

enemies: throw orbs pat: Is that allowed??

Still hasn’t seen the bone ball. Boneball watch 2k19

“Perfect for us whomst love to hate wear pants”

Spitballing this part because he hasn’t played it.

( picks up a reinforced club ) “I’ve joined the reinforced club. The club is me. I am the club.”

“goin’ on a quick loin cloth quest”

“I’m not sure what burning an undead bone shard does, but 420 was yesterday.” - I am not sure what this means but he isn’t wrong, I guess?

We’re gonna go burn an undead bone shard in a loincloth

“Loincloth is a bit more modest than previous ones but we got the legs exposed which is important” - good fashion advice from pat

“I do like the swing of the cloth it makes you think you might have a little peek if you get lucky”

“I’m touching a lady hold the fucking phone dude. Did I fail the touch?”

Young Man Charles was in the background for like 5 seconds and chat went absolutely nuts. As they should.

“I just wish we could get the ass out more in this game. I guess they cut down on the ass.”

Pat yeeted the sword master.

We’re gonna fuck up a tree. He’s the first or second big boss in Dark Souls 3

Content Warning: Nasty Boss. Pat’s gonna smack this tree’s groin area.

Faith is somehow not fond of this boss. I wonder why

Charlie showed up but Pat is busy busting these veggie’s nuts

Pat’s still adamant about not using the whip: “I’m not gonna whip this tree dude’s nards”

“Watchin’ Highlander on 4/20!”

Does not want to be hollow, would rather be ‘plump and svelte’

“I love when my elaborate attack doesn’t hit.” - A relatable gamer feel by Pat

Pat is having a sweaty one today

“We should clay-less…. We should mackle-less ( old man groaning noises )”

“I think the gentleman doth mackle too much.”

Oh, it’s drag JK Rowling o’clock! sipping_that_tea.jpg

According to Pat you psychologically cannot poop standing up

“Why did she say that? why did she do this?”

Chat says that babies poop standing up. Pat responds with, “Babies aren’t like us.”

“I’ve had enough poopoo peepee talk for today. Fuck JK Rowling.”

Chat is going full trans rights for seemingly no reason, it’s beautiful.

Was that little man always there? We may never know. Pat definitely does not remember the lil dude though, but seems to appreciate his presence nonetheless.

Here goes the french champagne

c h u n k y  r o l l i n ‘

admin duderave put that he spilled cottage cheese on himself in chat, “duderave… how much cottage cheese was spilled…”

admin duderave was laughed at for spilling cottage cheese on himself. it be like that sometimes.

Aerospoon back at it again gifting about 10 subs today. Nice goin’, buddy, doing God’s work on this fine Easter

He was talking about his next stream and got distracted by Charlie, as you do ( the next stream is tuesday at 8pm est )

He’s got the whole day off on Tuesday bc he worked pretty much all week due to traveling

After clicking around for a minute, decided to raid thatguyTagg, and said goodbye

End of stream!

[moonbeambucky]

Fallin’ for You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Reader Word Count: 3630 Warnings: light angst, fluff

Summary: The Avengers spend their day off at a farm near the compound where the leafs aren’t the only things that have fallen.

A/N: This is my submission for @nataliarxmanxva Sofi’s Season’s Change Writing Challenge. My prompt was “Don’t look at me like that, this was not my idea” Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated! gif source (x)

It was a beautiful day as the crisp wind blew, rustling the golden leaves of the surrounding trees. You were excited, walking with a little extra zest in your step as you crunched on the leaves that trailed up the entrance of to Lee Farms.

This past weekend had been their annual fair, kicking off your favorite season, fall. It’s the perfect weather; cool enough to snuggle up in a hoodie in the early mornings and evenings, with just the right amount of sun during the day, whose rays warmed you like your favorite hot drink. 

This season had your favorite festivities like apple picking and finding the perfect pumpkin to carve for Halloween. You missed going to the farm near you. It had been a yearly tradition with your best friend Joe but life has changed for both of you and it’s not something you’ve been able to keep up on.

Tony knew how much you missed it so he arranged this outing as a treat for the team, a break from the nonstop missions you’re all exhausted from. He booked the farm for the day, offering a generous donation to the small family owned business to help them convert their power system into something clean and more sustainable. Not everyone wanted to come though. Clint left to see his family which was understandable and Wanda and Vision stayed in. You thought they would enjoy the farm, especially Vision who loved experiencing new things but they wanted time for themselves.

As the newest member of the team it took you a while to learn all about their different personalities. Tony felt most comfortable in the lab tinkering with something, Sam always found a way to liven up the room and Steve tried to include everyone, making sure each member knew how valuable they were to the team and to him. Bucky kept to himself mostly, often reading in his room and you were surprised he came along. Overall everyone made you feel welcome, well except for Bucky. To him you were invisible and it wasn’t just because that happened to be the strange gift you were born with.

You discovered your power in the worst possible way. You already felt like an outcast in school, having only a handful of friends but still never really fitting in. You were eating lunch with Joe when you heard some girls giggling from the table behind you, their voices increasing in volume and you just sensed it had something to do with you. Suddenly you felt something foreign smack against your back, slowly sliding down. You stood up in shock to see a cheeseburger on the floor. The girls wailed with laughter as someone else threw fries at you.

Before learning to control you power your emotions would set it off. Your eyes closed to stop the hot tears from escaping, your fists squeezed into tight balls until –poof– you vanished. You opened your eyes to see everyone’s mouth agape in shock and confusion. You didn’t understand until you looked down, being able to see through yourself save for the thin outline of your body only visible to your eyes. The shock you felt turned you visible again and you ran out of the cafeteria.

The whole school was talking about you, calling you an invisible freak. Joe stood by you, defending you against them and cheering you up as he raved about how cool you were. You love your powers, now more than ever, but at that time you’ve never felt like more of an outcast.

Here you were again, feeling out of place for the most part. Bucky just didn’t see you. Sometimes that was okay though, because every time you saw him your heart fluttered. You couldn’t help the crush you had on him, he was obviously very attractive but there was more to him than that. He was mostly quiet except around Steve, that’s when he blossomed with his beautiful smile shining through. And his laugh, oh how you loved that sound.

When you were around Bucky you were horribly clumsy except during a mission. Somehow in the midst of stress that’s when you were the most levelheaded. Enemies surrounding you, great, no problem. Pouring a glass of orange juice in front of him, complete disaster.

Being invisible had its perks though because at least you could watch Bucky without the threat of embarrassing yourself. You never abused your power though, only pining for him silent and unseen while he cooked dinner or when he would sit on the grass after a nightmare, letting the gentle wind and the morning symphony of birds relax his mind.

A few days ago you went to watch him at the gym, Natasha unknowingly passed by you as you watched Bucky lifting an enormous amount of weight. He grunted, bringing up the barbell and you had to bite your lip hard to stifle the noises that threatened to escape. Steve hovered over him, encouraging his friend to finish his set. Bucky’s tongue slipped out to lick his lips as his face strained from the exertion.

“Hello Miss Y/N.” The tranquil voice of the android broke the silence.

You turned around with a look of horror, with eyes as wide as your mouth was open to see Vision, innocently standing there to greet you as his powers enabled him to see through your own.

“Y/N?” Bucky questioned, looking over towards where it was assumed you were standing. You smacked your head as you became visible, dragging your palm down your face in disbelief.

“Working out today?” Steve asked. From the corner of your eye you saw Natasha cock her head, smirking as she watched the embarrassed expression on your face grow. “Uhhhhhh, I’m not here,” you said, practically sprinting out of the gym.

I’m not here!? Ugh, you’re so stupid.

Natasha caught up with you after, forcing you to admit your feelings for Bucky. She vowed to help you though, trying many times to gauge Bucky’s interest but he was very protective of himself. It’s probably why he’s barely a word to you now.

Bucky may not be interested in you but at least you had an eager audience of animals. You walked to the open pens of the goats and sheep, attempting to pet them but they stuck their heads out, overzealously nudging your hands with their face as they were eager to be fed. Their tongues tickled your palm as they lapped up the food pellets you had, allowing you to finally pet them after a few rounds of feeding. You walked backwards, smiling as you said goodbye to those animals before slamming into something– no, someone.

“S-sorry,” you stammered, having backed up right into Bucky. You washed your hands in the outdoor sink, wishing you could rinse away your insecurities as well. Finding Natasha, you looped your arm through hers, telling her about your latest disaster.

Everyone made their way into the chicken barn, passing an incubator before huddling around baby chicks. You squealed in delight, gently cupping the pale yellow fuzz balls of cuteness. Natasha grabbed your phone at your behest, to take pictures of you holding one close, softly caressing its little head.

You placed the chick back gently and were about to pick up another one but something caught your eye. Looking over you saw Bucky standing against the wall watching you and your eyes flared with anxiety. He shifted his focus on Tony teasing Sam. That’s right, you knew he wasn’t just watching you, why would he?

The group laughed as Tony couldn’t stop his jokes, asking Sam if he feels at home in the chicken coop. Everyone was distracted by their back and forth, laughing as Sam told Tony he looked like a shiny metal chicken. You smiled but kept silent, not wanting to get yourself involved in this and turned back towards the baby chicks when you noticed Bucky was still up against the wall. He’s smiling at the chicks but he hasn’t gone near them at all.

You’re not sure what gave you the courage to speak up but you walked towards him and asked why he wasn’t holding them. He softly cleared his throat, “I don’t want to hurt them,” he said, waving his metal hand up.

His eyes held a fear you couldn’t understand. “Bucky you would never.” You said it confidently, knowing it was true in your heart despite Bucky’s apprehension.

You turned his metal palm over with your hand and placed the tiny chick in it. Grabbing his other hand you motioned for him to cradle the small animal against his chest. Your breath caught in your throat when you realized your hands were still touching his. The gaze of his beautiful blue eyes hypnotized you for a moment before you let go, nervously smiling and running back to Natasha.

After washing up again everyone stopped to eat. The farm had graciously put together a buffet of different offerings, cheeseburgers, pulled pork sandwiches, chicken wings (which you declined after spending so much time with the baby chicks) plus sides of fries, kettle chips and fresh corn. Natasha had wordless configured the seating arrangements so that Bucky was across from you. You caught Bucky’s gaze as you sat down on the bench, trying to control your shaky hands to avoid spilling your cup of apple cider. Smiling quickly you looked away before filling your plate with food.

You spaced out while eating until you hear a voice call your name. Looking up you see Bucky waiting for an answer to the question you didn’t hear.

“Huh?” you asked, wiping your mouth with the napkin.

“Is it good? The corn?”

You pondered his seemingly obvious question for a second and you were about to answer him but you stopped yourself, feeling pieces of corn all throughout your teeth. You shut your mouth tightly and nodded your head as you hummed your answer. You hated doing this but there was no choice, you went invisible, just for a few seconds to pick the corn out of your teeth in private.

“Hey Frodo, will you take the ring off and come tell us what you wanna do next?” Tony sarcastically said.

You reappeared, smiling at one of the many nicknames he’s given you. “Okay so is everyone ready for the corn maze?” you asked enthusiastically. You explained that you’ve done them more times than you can count.

“What’s the fastest time you’ve ever finished?” Sam asked.

“My record is twelve minutes.” It was the fastest time you and Joe had ever done the maze and Sam nodded approvingly.

Natasha split everyone into teams, she and Steve, Sam with Tony and of course you and Bucky. You made a mental note to buy her a churro when you get out of there as a thank you.

“No, no I’m sitting this one out,” Tony spoke up. “Getting lost in a field of vegetables, not my thing. You kids have fun.”

You were disappointed because you believed everyone should enjoy a good corn maze but now Sam insisted on joining your team thanks to your earlier bragging. “Twelve minutes huh? Well with me on your team we’re gonna get outta here in less than ten,” Sam laughed, throwing his arm around you.

Everyone waited for the farm employee to come over. The clearly intimidated kid squeaked out the rules of the maze, showing everyone an aerial map of the large field. He explained that the theme was based off of Charlotte’s Web.

“Ooooh I love Charlotte’s Web!” you interrupted.

Sam narrowed his eyes towards you and smirked, “Y/N will you let, uh what’s your name?”

“K-Kevin,” the boy sheepishly replied.

“Will you let my man Kevin here finish? I really don’t want to be stuck here all day.” You mimed zipping your mouth shut and throwing away the key as Sam rolled his eyes, missing the way Bucky cracked at smile at your gesture.

Kevin laughed and then stopped himself, unsure if he was allowed to laugh at an Avenger. He continued, flipping over the map to reveal a color coded version of the maze. He explained that the pathways have different color ribbon around them and that you need to find the black ribbon where Charlotte is depicted to cross the bridge of victory.

Steve looked over the map he handed each team, “It’s blank.”

Kevin explained there are nine mailboxes hidden within the maze, each provided a small piece of the map. You could look for them if you want or just try to get out on your own. “If you make the first nine moves correctly then you’ll be out in fifteen minutes, if not we clear the field at the end of the season so we’ll find you eventually,” he said, finding the courage to make a joke.

“Why am I doing this?” Sam questioned.

“Because it’s fun!” you replied with a beaming smile.

Making your way into the field you were given two options, right or left. Steve and Natasha went right and so Sam insisted you three turn left. You crossed under the bridge of victory but clearly you’re a long way from finding its entrance. Bucky stayed relatively silent, following behind as you and Sam tried to navigate the maze. You found one mailbox, taping the tiny section of the map to its corresponding location on your paper, but it didn’t help you. After thirty minutes of Sam’s increasing frustration he finally spoke up.

“I thought you were good at this!”

“Yeah, well each maze is different Sam,” you said as you pondered a crossroads between green or red ribbon.

“What’s the longest you’ve ever been in one of these?” he asked.

“Hmmm,” you thought about it, “Close to two hours.”

Sam practically shrieked, “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“You didn’t ask,” you said, holding in your bubbling laughter as you stared at his frowning face. You turned around at the sound of Bucky laughing and it made your heart swell. There it was, that sound you seldom heard but loved so much.

Sam shook his head, “Nah, nope. I’m getting out of here.”

He went through his backpack and put on his goggles. Both you and Bucky stared at him in confusion. When he took out his drone you had to question him. “Sam what are you doing?”

Redwing flew up above the field scanning the pathways.

“Sam you can’t, that’s cheating!” you tried to plead with him.

“Don’t look at me like that, this was not my idea!” he said, touching his goggles and presumably deciphering his way out. “I did not sign up to be stuck in a corn maze all day. I’m gettin’ outta here the easy way.”

Sam turned the corner, focused on leaving the maze. You and Bucky stared at each other, sharing a knowing look before bursting out with laughter.

“Shut up!” you heard a distance voice shout.

You wiped tears away that formed from laughing too much. “I guess it’s just us,” you smiled at Bucky. “Uh… unless you want to follow him out,” you said, regretting that you gave him an opportunity to leave.

“No I’ll stay. I just hope it doesn’t take two hours.” Your smile faded for a moment before he continued speaking, “I’m still hungry.”

“Oh! I have some almonds in my bag if you want,” you scrambled to search inside your bag to pull out the small packet.

It slipped from your hand before you gave it to him and you both bent down at the same time to get it, bumping heads in the process. The force of Bucky’s strong body knocked you to the ground.

“Ow,” you hissed, rubbing your forehead.

“I’m so sorry!” Bucky apologized, helping you up to your feet. You brushed off the dirt from your backside, clearing your throat and offering Bucky to lead the way.

You and Bucky continued, finding another map near red colored string. You pulled up your incomplete map and looked over it with Bucky.

“So we’re here but we need to get to Charlotte,” you pointed to the blank space on the map where you knew the exit was.

“Charlotte’s the spider?” Bucky asked.

“You don’t know Charlotte’s Web!?” Your question came off a bit snappier than you intended.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and laughed, “I wasn’t around for it, doll.”

You froze for a moment before spewing out your words entirely too fast in response to the name he called you, “Oh well you should watch it. I mean it’s a children’s book you could read it, but there was a movie too.” You took a deep breath after that mouthful, reminding yourself that he calls everyone doll and it didn’t mean anything.

Bucky smiled in response to your flustering as you continue through the maze. More time has passed now and although you’re enjoying spending the time alone with Bucky the insecure part of you can’t help but to wonder if he’s regretting his decision to stay. You wondered if Natasha & Steve got out of the maze. You hadn’t seen Redwing flying over head in some time so you assumed Sam did. Even though you’re enjoying yourself with Bucky you felt very disappointed in your lack of skills.

“I swear I’m really good at these normally, or maybe I’m not. Maybe it was all Joe,” you thought.

“Joe?” Bucky questioned with a hint of sadness in his inflection.

“Yeah he’s been my best friend since we were thirteen. He was the only person I could trust. Everybody else judged me or tried to use me because of my powers but not Joe.”

Bucky’s mouth opened to speak but you continued, frowning as you expressed how much you missed Joe. He shut his own mouth, feeling his whole body sink at your confession.

“But I get it,” you continued, “Our lives a very different now. Me with all of this world saving stuff and now that his wife is pregnant I think our corn maze days are over.”

You heard Bucky sigh in what seemed like relief but again you doubted it. He was probably just catching his breath from all the walking you’ve been doing in the hot sun together.

The farm was oddly quiet except for the distant sound of a tractor. Your mind drifted as you passed the pink ribbon representing Wilbur the pig.

“There were two movies actually,” you said looking up at Bucky, continuing the conversation about Charlotte’s Web that had finished long ago. “The original is my favorite, better music.”

“Oh yeah?” he replied.

You began to softly sing under your breath as you referenced the map for a possible route out, “Oh we’ve got lots in common where it really counts, where it really counts, we’ve got large amounts. What we look like doesn’t count an ounce. We’ve got lots in common where it really it counts.” You felt Bucky’s eyes on you which made you smile nervously.

“Is that from the movie?” he asked. You nodded quickly, feeling embarrassed for singing at all. “Will you watch it with me?”

You turned your head up, brows furrowing in confusion and shock. “Um, yeah sure.” Your face began to heat up and you didn’t think it was from the sun.

“Back at red again! Bucky I don’t think we’re ever getting out of here. I’m afraid I’m not a good corn maze partner,” you said, holding your head in your hands in frustration.

“It’s fine, I’m having a really nice time.”

“Can I ask you something?” You swallowed hard before continuing, holding on to some form of false courage. “This is the first time you’ve talked to me… like ever, outside of a mission. Now you want to hang out. I mean, I want to but I’m…” you stammered on before realizing you had spoken over Bucky.

He repeated his words, “I like you Y/N.”

“What?” you screamed. “I mean, sorry, it’s just this came out of nowhere…”

Bucky cleared his throat, “Yeah, I’m not good at letting people in after everything… I put up walls to protect myself.”

You smiled at his admission. “When Steve told me you liked me…”

“Natasha!” you jokingly hissed her name.

He chuckled, “I never thought you saw me as anything more than a teammate but when I found out I was trying to find the right way to tell you.”

You sighed heavily, “Well we can thank them both if we ever get out of here.”

Bucky laughed, that sweet sound that you’ve been hearing more and more as the day went on. “Oh it’s just this way.” Your brows furrowed as you stared at him waiting for an explanation.

“Yeah, I saw the black string a long time ago but I made us go the other way.”

“Why?”

His smile softened. “Because I wanted to spend more time with you doll.”

“Bucky Barnes I’m going to beat you over the head with this corn!” you joked, playfully shoving him. Your hands lingered on his muscular chest as you stared into his blue eyes, the corners crinkled as he smiled from ear to ear.

He wrapped his arms around you and you felt yourself growing warmer under his stare. Your eyes focused on the way his tongue slipped out to lick his lips as he leaned in towards you and you closed the gap. You whimpered as his soft lips molded perfectly with your own, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Overcome with emotion you had unintentionally disappeared. Redwing was flying overhead as Sam watched Bucky awkwardly kissing the air.

“Yeah, they’re falling for each other,” he smirked, telling the rest of the team.

[teamkaiforever]

LOST    - PART III

Kai Parker x Reader word count : 4 809 summary : continues the story from part I / part II … * gif by me _________________________________________

Y/N got out of the car and semi ran towards the front door. Her hands shakily held the keys and she almost dropped them on the ground before finally managing to unlock the door and get inside. For a moment she stood frozen at the door, looking at the emptyness and darkness around her, then shakily she took a step inside. Silence was all around her, even though on the inside she wanted to scream. The door closed with a muffled thud as she rested her back against it and slipped down towards the floor, bringing up her knees to her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks while her mind played on repeat the events from earlier that same evening. So much had happened and most of it felt like it wasn’t real, like  it was a really really horrible nightmare from which she kept praying to wake up. Only nothing happened because it was real. Her eyes opened and closed but she was still there, alone. Her dress was still covered in blood, his blood and the memory of seeing one of her friends killing the man she loved was right there in the back of her eyelids every time she closed them. Her scream still echoed in her head and the fact she hadn’t been able to do anything to stop this from happening.    “Smile.“ said a male voice from right next to her. “I can’t stand seeing you like this. I get this feeling that it’s my fault and I hate being the one causing you pain. God, feelings are hard.”    “What ?“ she asked confused while someone’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a hug.    “You didn’t think I’d leave you alone did you ?” he kissed her forehead softly. “Never. I will always be here with you. Always.”    “Kai ?“ she asked, looking up at him seeing him smile at her. “Y-You are dead.”    “Yeah, I guess I am.“ he laughed under his breath. “Doesn’t mean I am not here or that this isn’t real. Doesn’t mean you won’t have a part of me with you at all times.”    “Is this a dream?“    “You tell me.” he said softly, brushing his palm against her cheek before leaning in to kiss her and a blink of an eye later he had vanished. A sigh left her lips and she wiped away a tear from her cheek. Y/N wasn’t sure why she was crying. Not exactly. Maybe it was the memory that had flashed in her mind, or maybe it was because of the small stick with two red lines she was holding in her hands.

   “I wish you were here –“ she mumbled.    “What ?” asked Kai confused, gently brushing his thumb against her cheek, his lips curling into a small smile. For a moment he almost forgot her memories were gone. Almost. “You still talk in your sleep. So absolutely adorable.” Y/N snuggled closer to him and  he carefully pulled the blanket up covering her shoulders, unable to look away. He wondered what she was dreaming about and fought the urge to sneak into her dream. He didn’t want to risk the second chance he got with her in any way. A quiet sigh left his lips and then he saw it – a tear rolling down her cheek.

As the first sun rays started to seep through the windows, Y/N started to wake up and to her surprise a cup with coffee was already waiting for her on the coffee table. Kai however was nowhere to be seen. Sleepily she made her way upstairs to her son’s bedroom and wake him up, only his room was empty. Instantly she started to freak out when barely a few seconds later she heard laughter coming from her bedroom. Almost running there, semi-spilling her coffee on her way, she opened door and took a peek inside. There they were – her boys, Kai and Peter, semi-cuddling on the bed while he tickled the young boy making him laugh. Both of them looked up at her and she sighed in relief.    “Hi.“ grinned Kai, while Peter jumped up to give his mom a hug and Kai followed shortly after. “Sorry, I um – I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up when I heard he was awake upstairs. Y-you are not mad are you ?”    “Happy birthday, trouble.“ she kissed the young boy’s forehead before ruffling his hair. “No, not mad just … had a small heart attack. That’s all.” Peter laughed and ran off, leaving his parents alone. For a long moment neither of them said a thing, they just gazed into each other’s eyes and then Kai took another step towards her, one hand in his pocket while with the other he scratched his forehead.    “He really is something.“ he smiled. “So charming, and fun to be around. He is umm.. he is absolutely perfect. You know, he um… he said you’ve talked about his father, I mean me. Saying that having him in your life is like having a part of me back.” Y/N took a sip from her coffee realising it was just like she likes it – right sweetness, right spices. “I am sure I have because there is no way I haven’t. Do you um want to stay for breakfast ?”    “Yeah, sure. But after I have a couple of things to do, including getting him four years worth of birthday presents.“ laughed Kai nervously as they headed downstairs. “Hey um, what were you dreaming about last night ? You talked in your sleep.”    “I did ?“ she asked half-scared half-curious just like every time someone mentioned they had heard her talk in her sleep. Y/N was always terrified she might’ve spilled a secret or said something emberrasing or offensive. “Wh-what did I say ?”    “’I wish you were here’.“ he stopped at the end of the stairs, bracing himself against the stair railing. "You don’t remember what you dreamt about, do you ?”    “No. It’s like whatever it was, my memory filters it through that white noise on old TV’s.“ she thought out loud, trying to remember her dream in full but the only thing she could fully recall was the feeling – this sad yet somehow happy feeling. Peter ran right past them laughing, playing with his favourite blue car toy while Kai got to work. "No, no wait –”    “What ?“ he asked confused, almost dropping the pan he was holding. "Y-you remembered something ?”    “No, I just – you can’t make breakfast.“    “Sure I can. Hey, buddy ? What do you want? Waffles ? Pancakes ? Scrambled eggs ? Cupcakes ?” suggested Kai. “It’s your birthday –”    “Pancakes !!“ exclaimed Peter.    “He is the pancake monster.” stated Y/N watching her son make a monster face. “See ?” Kai laughed, tapping his son’s nose. “If it’s pancakes you want, pancakes you shall get.”

*            *           *

   “Fantastic news.“ said Caroline, opening the front door and walking into the living room/kitchen. "Cade is – what is he doing here ?” Y/N left the orange juice on the table and glanced at her friend who had balloons, a wrapped box with a bow and a pink paper box with either donuts or cupcakes in her hands. Caroline’s eyes widened in shock seeing Kai with an apron by the stove while a very excited looking Peter ran around him laughing and making funny faces.    “Oh hey, Clarisse.“ said Kai, waving at her while flipping the dinosaur shaped pancakes in a plate before leaving it on the table and lifting up Peter to sit on one of the chairs. "So, you guys really pulled it off huh? Come here and I’ll totally give you a high five.” Caroline stared at him and pulled Y/N aside. “Why is he here ?”    “He is Peter’s father.“    “Wait. You remember ?”    “Not exactly.“ said Kai, joining them. Caroline stared at him suspiciously. "I told her who I am and –”    “– the truth or half of the truth?“    “He told me enough. Look, Kai has every right to be here. Specially today of all days.” said Y/N, glancing at Peter who was about to pour the entire bottle with maple syrup on the pancakes. “I’ll be right back.” Kai followed her gaze and laughed under his breath.  “Awwh Peter loves maple syrup as much as you do.“    “Shut up.” laughed Y/N, grabbing the bottle from her son’s hands. "I’ll take that.”    “You can’t be here !“ said Caroline in a hushed voice. “What the Hell are you thinking being here?”    “Where else would I be but with my family?“ asked Kai, leaning in towards Caroline who took a step back. "Also be happy I was here other ways you would’ve found Y/N dead. Or worse – Peter would’ve.”    “Wait, back up. What are you talking about?“ she folded her hands on her chest.    “Seline. I think she is still mind controlling her somehow because in the middle of the night Y/N decided it would be a nice time to stab herself with that knife over there. Don’t tell me you can’t smell the blood.” Caroline turned her head sideways for a moment, her vampirism showing, and glanced at him. “Well. Thank you.”    “Yeah. I need you do to something for me.“ started the heretic. "Don’t panic. I just need you to watch her and keep her from doing anything… dangerous while I go … talk to Seline. There is nothing medically wrong with Y/N’s memory. Its magic and with Cade gone maybe I can get Seline to undo what she did –”    “You mean torture her until she does?“ stated Caroline.    “Got any better ideas?” he asked trying hard not to raise his voice. “We can’t keep Y/N under 24 hour surveillance for the rest of her life!” Caroline stared at him, then glanced at Y/N and Peter currently smiling over the chocolate cupcakes she had brought – Peter’s favourite, and then finally turned towards Kai again.  “Do what you gotta do.“    “Thank you.” he said, walking over to his family. He ruffled the boy’s hair and leaned in towards Y/N. “Hey so, I’m going out for a bit to um – Will you be okay here with Peter and Clarisse?”    “Who?“ she asked confused. "Ohh, yeah. W-where are you going?” Kai glanced at Peter then at Caroline.    “Gift shopping.” he stroked her hair and snatched a chocolate cupcake from the box before heading towards the door. Y/N watched him go towards the door, wondering why she feels this pit in her stomach. Like if something happens to him, there won’t be no way for her to recover. Ever. How it was possible to feel like this when you don’t have any memories of the person? When you can’t remember the slightest thing about your shared history even though there is a living breathing proof of it –    “Hey, Kai?“ she called out and ran towards him, catching him at the door. Her arms wrapped around him tightly and a moment later his arms did the same. "Promise me you will come back.”    “I promise. I’ll be back before it’s time for cake.” he smiled at her, gently kissing her forehead. “Don’t worry. What can happen to me ? I am an all powerful heretic now.” Y/N’s lips curled into a smile and she leaned against the door watching him disappear in a split second.    “You have lost your mind, not just your memory.“ said her friend from behind her. "Did he tell you how he –”    “–murdered his siblings after his entire family denied him basic things a kid wants because he was born different? How he made a mistake letting his emotions get in the way and paid for it for 18 years?“ asked Y/N in a hushed voice so Peter doesn’t hear. "Yes. He told me right after saving my life.”    “Did he tell you it’s his fault this happened to you in the first place?“    “It’s not his fault. It’s Seline’s.”    “Yeah but if you hadn’t gone to see him –“    “I never would’ve even been at the Armoury if one of you had called to tell me he was back. I had the right to know.”    “Are you saying this is our fault?!“    “No, it’s no one’s fault, Caroline. That’s the point. It just our crazy messed up supernatural lives.” she sighed, wiping Peter’s chin which was dripping maple syrup. “It’s hard, okay. I know, I have no memories but you should’ve seen him last night. He looked as if his life had been just about to end. As if I die, he’d die. I know he has done awful things but, Care, so have I. So have you and Damon and all our friends. I – I don’t know if ever I will feel the same way I’ve felt for him for four years, apparently, but –”    “You want to give him a chance.“    “I do. I’ve given him a chance before.” smiled Y/N. “There must’ve been a reason. Plus, I owe it to Peter. He deserves to get to know his father.” she finished in a hushed voice. Kai whooshed himself to the nearest entrance to the underground tunnels leading to the Armoury and slipped in them. For a while he walked in human speed, kicking a rock here and there while he tried to calm down his thoughts. He hoped his suspicions would be wrong, that this had been a one time thing but he knew better. Seline hadn’t been able to take her away from him and now not only she had stolen her memories but made sure Kai will lose her. As he stepped into the Armoury, he walked past Doryam who was reading a bunch of books on one of the tables with the pitchfork right before him. Alaric’s intern glanced at the clock and rang the pitchfork. Somewhere from bellow Kai could hear the siren’s reaction and a devilish smile showed on his face as he made his way to the holding cells.    “Kai…“ said Seline, looking up from the cards on her bed. "Thought you might come by. How was your night ? Eventful ?” Kai flicked his wrist ringing the pitchfork with magic and the siren squinted her eyes, groaning in pain.    “God, I just love that sound.“ he smiled innocently. "Ahh … people in pain. I had forgotten what that sounds like.” he tapped his finger on the large glass, not taking his eyes off the siren. “Cade’s dead.”    “Oh is he ?“ said the siren a little amused.    “Yeah, he is. Which means I don’t have to do what he says and neither do you.”    “Awwh…“ said Seline, getting up. "And you are hoping that you can somehow appeal to my ‘humanity’ and get me to undo what I did? That I’ll sing a few notes and fix your girl? I assure you, I have no humanity left. All of it got stripped away centuries ago.”    “Tell me what you did to her and how to fix it.“    “No.” said the siren, folding her hands on her chest. “You can’t undo it. She will keep trying and trying no matter how many times you save her until it gets done. And then she is going to get dragged to Hell, because –” paused the siren, leaning in towards the glass. “– a few years ago, she killed someone. That’s kind of a deal breaker.” Kai clenched his jaw. No one had told him anything about this , but he was sure what had happened had been an accident because the girl he knew wouldn’t hurt a fly.    “You know what it’s like there.“ smirked the siren. "You are on fire all the time and every bad thing you have done in your life, however small and insignificant, comes to haunt you. Cade being gone doesn’t change the way his psychic dimension works. You want to save her ? Leave. It’s the only way to get her to stop.”    “I can’t leave her.“ he said more to himself than to the siren. "I can’t leave Peter –” It was a selfish thing to say, he knew that, but there was the possibility Seline was lying. That him leaving would change nothing and Peter would end up an orphan and he couldn’t let this happen. He knew there was a way to reverse it, and if she didn’t plan on telling him he will have to torture it out of her. A devilish smirk flashed in his eyes and he flick of his wrist, the pitchfork rang again and the siren screamed in pain.    "For the record, I was willing to strike a deal. To let you out of this place if you told me how to undo it. But –“ he laughed, his blood boiling and fire burning in his eyes. ”– now you have upset me in a way I never knew existed. I may not be able to kill you, yet, but I am sure going to enjoy this.“ Kai smirked and flicked his wrist, snapping her neck. Seline dropped to the ground only to get up a few seconds later with a smirk on her face. He used his magic to repeatedly inflict her pain – causing her to bleed, breaking a couple of her bones but no matter what he tried, the siren didn’t cave in and still refused to tell him what he wanted to know.    “Do you really think she will except you and let you raise Peter with her ?” coughed the siren after for perhaps the 5th time he had pulled the air out of her lungs with magic. “Sure, she seems open to the opportunity now but how long before she realises you are not exactly a role model? How long before she gets scared having you around might turn this sweet innocent little boy into a monster, same as his father ? How long before you screw up and come home covered in blood scaring your son –”    “I’d never do that.“ he said, trying to pull at the siren’s heart with magic when suddenly he stumbled backwards, rubbing his forehead and his mind got pulled away.   Kai walked through the front door, rubbing his forehead with his blood covered hands. He took a few steps inside the house into the darkness when he heard footsteps. Turning around he saw Peter standing on the stairs with his favourite toy going down the railing, his eyes wide in shock and quickly filling with tears and fear. The young boy screamed. Y/N ran towards him, freezing on the spot for a few long moments and then ran towards their son, pushing Kai’s hands away. She pulled Peter into her arms trying to calm him down –    “S-stay out of my h-head.” Kai snapped his fingers and the siren’s neck snapped breaking the link long enough for him to recover and get an idea. If he couldn’t torture it out of her, maybe he could find a way to slip inside her mind and find what he needs to end this nightmare the siren had turned Y/N and his life into. Kai’s cold laugh echoed in the Armoury and he flicked his wrist ringing the pitchfork again.    “You have a thing for worst scenarios, huh.“ he said amused. "Let me tell you something. Whatever scenario you can come up with – I’ve already ran in my head. I’ve endured so much pain in my life you would not believe. You would not believe how much pain I’ve inflicted in return either, and I’ve never been more motivated to do so. Either you tell me what I want to know or you will enter a world of hurt even Cade couldn’t create. Choice is yours. Either way, I always win.”    “Not this time.“ smirked the siren, sitting back on her bed. "Have fun saving her tonight and the night after that and the night after that because she is not going to stop. A run in with a knife didn’t work. Who knows, maybe she will get more creative next time.” During the following two weeks Kai spent every night by Y/N’s side watching over her as a guardian angel while she slept, keeping her safe whenever the mind control kicked in. There were a couple really close ones and the siren had been right – Y/N got more creative. After the 8th time he had saved her, the most unexpected thing happened and instead of letting him go sit on the comfy chair near by the bed, she pulled him onto the bed with her. It seemed the longer they spent together the more she warmed up to him and some times he’d see those flashes in her eyes as if for a moment she remembered something – a feeling, an image. Sometimes while she was sleeping she’d say something which somehow seemed indirectly directed to him which made him wonder what exactly was going on inside her head while she dreamed. But he couldn’t bring himself to aswhilr permission to enter her dreams, afraid that would ruin what little they had rebuild together. Kai spent his days either with Peter or at the Armoury with Seline using every chance to find out how exactly to weaken the siren enough for him to sneak into her mind. Ringing the pitchfork disrupted her powers and couldn’t do what he needed but could definitely help. As the days went by he started devising a plan and at the beginning of the third week he already had it laid out in his mind. Only for his plan to work, he’d need the help of his least favourite Salvatore brother, a very reluctant witch and pretty much everyone else in the Mystic Falls gang. Luckily for all of them – Cade was gone and they had found a way to get rid of Katherine and Sybil. But not before Kai had gotten to the siren and had successfully found out how to sneak into Seline’s mind.    “You want us to what??!!“ exclaimed Damon. "Have you lost your mind?!”    “It’s the only way.“    “No. No, no, no. Did I mention?” laughed the vampire for a second. “No!” Kai sighed, glancing at his shoes before catching a glimpse of a picture of Damon and Elena near by the fire place.  "I’ll wake up Elena.“    “Oh sure.” stated Bonnie. “Cuz we haven’t heard that one before.”    “Before the life of the person I – well, one of the people I love the most, wasn’t hanging in the balance.“ said Kai, taking a step towards Damon. "Bonnie will put a spell on the Armoury sealing us in with the siren so she can’t get out. Stephon will be safely tucked away with the pitchfork on the upper floor ringing it every 10 minutes –”    “No. It’s too dangerous.“ protested Damon. "He is human! Vampire blood won’t heal him if something happens to him.”    “Nothing will happen –“ said Kai raising his voice. "Imagine it was Elena. Damon, Seline mind controlled Y/N to kill herself. Do you have any idea how many nights I’ve saved her and how many of those were really close ones ? Y/N is your friend. Isn’t helping your friends like your motto or something ?”    “We don’t have a motto.“ said Caroline.    “Why should we trust you ?” pointed out Bonnie.  "You have crossed us before.“    “Yes. I have.” stated Kai. “I also crossed Katherine not once but twice – warning you about her plan about trying to blow Mystic Falls right off the map and then tricking her into the tunnels where by the way we got rid of Sybil as well, after I crossed her too. Do you have any idea how hard it is to cross a psychic?! Only reason Sybil agreed to tell me how to sneak into Seline’s mind was because she hates her adoptive weird cannibal sister as much as you all apparently hate me.”    “Ahh, you are right. We do hate you –“    “Not the point, Bon Bon.” said Kai, wiping his face. “Point is – I’ve helped you get rid of two of your largest problems. Quite permanently, if I might add. I promise to get Elena back too, for real this time. I do. I just – I can’t watch Y/N like this anymore. The other day when I came home she was curled up in a ball on the couch, crying because of how awful she feels everyone has to take a break from their own life and and ‘babysit’ her as if she were a child. You can’t even imagine how scared she is to go to sleep every night not knowing if she’d wake up and see Peter ever again.”    “We love her, that’s why we do what we do.“ stated Caroline.    “Yeah. I know.” pointed out Kai. “Why do you think I am doing what I am doing?! I love her ! I love her more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. Please ? If not for me me at least do it for Peter. He can’t lose his mother.” Kai glanced at everyone sitting in the Salvatore’s living room looking for support. A second or an hour passed, he wasn’t sure, before Caroline broke the silence.    “Whats the plan?“    “Caroline !”    “I hate to say it —“    “Don’t say what you think you are going to say.” groaned Damon.    “– we have to help him.“ said Caroline. "I remember what I went through when… when my mom died. We can’t let that happen to Peter. But Stefan stays out of your insane plan. I’ll go in his place and ring the pitchfork. I can listen in on whats happening all around the Armoury and –”    “Care –“ started Stefan but almost immediately gave up knowing there was no arguing with his wife. Damon glanced between everyone in the room, gulping his bourbon at once, before finally looking at Kai, who looked more hopeful than ever, and sighed.    “Fine, when do we do this?”    “Tomorrow.“ said Kai.

That night Kai spent by Y/N’s side without taking his eyes away from her for a second. Almost until sunrise nothing happened and he started to think maybe by some miracle that night nothing will happen. Then without any warning signs Y/N pushed her blanket off her, got up from the bed and headed towards the stairs topping right over the railing. Instinctively Kai ran catching her right on time before she had smacked herself onto the floor.    “Hi.” he grinned at her. “Nice of you to drop by.” Y/N looked around, not remembering how she had ended up out of bed and in his hands. “That’s not funny.”    “I know.“ he sighed. Y/N hooked her hands around his neck, both of them gazing into the other’s eyes. It was as if sparks of electricity floated between them and he felt the desire to kiss her stronger than ever. Slowly he leaned in, noticing how her eyes kept darting between his eyes and his lips but stopped himself. Kai cleared his throat. "Oh-kay. Let’s get you back to bed.”    “What are we going to do ?“ she asked just as Kai walked into her bedroom. "This can’t keep happening –”    “It won’t.“ he let her down on the bed. "I have a plan.”    "What plan?“    “Don’t worry about it, cupcake.” he gently brushed his palm against her cheek, kissing her forehead before sitting on the bed next to her. “I’ll take care of it. I promise. This nightmare ends today, one way or another.”    “If something happens to you, I –“ she started, gazing into his smoky blue eyes. During the past few weeks Kai had become her knight in shining armour saving her countless times. He was so caring towards her and Peter, something inside her stirred and every minute they spent together it kept stirring. But there was something else too – the past few nights her dreams were becoming clearer and clearer, giving her flashes of memories they had shared together. At least that’s what she thought those images were, as if the longer they were together the more whatever Seline had done to her was going away. Only it was such a slow process, at this rate, she’d succeed in her night activities before the memories returned. Kai tilted his head slightly looking at her with curious eyes. "You what ?”    “N-nothing.“ she smiled shyly, moving closer to Kai. He wrapped his arms around her and both of them laid on the bed, snuggling together. Y/N placed her head over his heart listening to his heartbeat while lightly playing with his shirt. "I’ll never survive losing you.” she said quietly. _________________________________________ MASTERLIST - SMUT MASTERLIST - FLUFF _________________________________________ NOTE : I don’t know how this happened, but at the moment this is the only story that flows easily while I write. I intended on ending it in this chapter, but somehow I got myself into writing another one (which will quite possibly be the last one). I hope you enjoy reading this story, because it became dear to me in a way I can’t even explain.