#thank you so infinitely much for continuing to be a fucking asshole on top of everything else you have going on.

[bluejay-07]

.

[myso-maggie]

In Space there are no Smells

(Note from Author: Thank you for clicking! Its been about a year since I written, so I'm VERY RUSTY. SO enjoy this really weird short story. With sci-fi horror themes blended with corruption, mysophilia, stink, and filth.)

[Planetary orbit station Azazel]

[02:35:45 Earth Time]

[Goal: Find, Capture, Analyze, and Dispose of foreign objects orbiting or entering Earth’s Orbit.]

[Azazel is a part of a triangulation system with two sister stations Azza and Uzza, this system is called “Fallen Angels”.]

[Lead Orbit Extraction Tech Entry # 1]

<Name: Sonya Stellar>

<The other crewmates always started off picking on me during roll call. Love pops but the amount of grievance he has cursed me with a last name like Stellar makes me want to kick him when I make it back soil-side. I had applied to get stationed on Azza, but the roster filled very quickly… placing me on Azazel. Which is fine… but it's not the newest of the trio. Plus, I didn’t want to be stationed with my old campus mate Drew. He was always so competitive, always knowing my next move in classes, always besting me. Second place is fine and dandy… but God what I would do for a gold one of these days.>

<Continuing log>

<Excuse me, had to stop suddenly we had a reading in our radius. Why am I apologizing? These are to me after all. Company-mandated and shit. Supposedly for our “Mental well-being… bullshit. I'm keeping my thoughts on a log for me and my eyes only. Good to keep myself straight and narrow for the next mission. Anyways, Drew has volunteered himself to be the one to plot the course to intersect the object. Asshat

[S.O.S transmission from *****]

<THIS IS A PRIVATE CAPSULE FOR ****** AND *****

ATTENTION THIS IS A PRIVATE SCIENTIFIC CONTAINMENT

DO NOT *****

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT ****

PROPERTY OF ______________>

[end of transmission]

[Lead Orbit Extraction Tech Entry #2]

<Name: Sonya Stellar>

[It's impossible for the rest of the crew to hear my heart rate, but they all looked at me as if they could. I waited on the sidelines of the station- strapped up, ready to go out and yank Drew back to Azazel. We could hear advice and mutter on the hot radios of Uzza and Azza. I can’t stand the asshole but fuck me was it tense. Especially after the Company played the audio of the distress beacon. Evidently, it's privately owned or some shit. All they informed us was that it was a RED ALERT that we got it. This wasn’t just some long-forgotten satellite or some junk. This was something serious. This was something that had everyone tense and frightened. I never saw Drew look as worried as he did when we went for the first spacewalk. A wave of ease washed over me when we got the radio from Drew that he had in fact contacted the capsule. He sat as a speck in the infinite vastness connected like a kite coming for a landing. Our work had only begun, we now had to get Drew back in along with the Capsule put into the loading bay so we could bring it into our analysis department. Drew is now asleep claiming the stress was just too much. I never knew him to get so disturbed. I'm just happy it's now inside. I'll link to my analysis of the capsule below

[Azazel Analysis LOG]

[Sonya Stellar Analysis of Space Debris Capsule]

< Good evening, this is Dr. Stellar. I’m starting this LOG here at 22:00:00 Earth time. I will start with a visual analysis of the capsule. The unit appears to be akin to a satellite, made of standard Titanium alloys. There is a single round viewing window at the top of what appears to be an entry hatch, but the viewing window is opaque with the inner substance looking like algae. The capsule has markings and numbers with unknown reasons lining what looks like an input and output connection. On the front of the broken hatch is an emblem/logo of butterfly wings. I am now to begin cutting the hatches of the hatch. Afterward, I will continue with an interior analysis record Log>

Loud whirring noises of a small buzzsaw can be heard cutting through the metal.

[Azazel Analysis LOG]

[Sonya Stellar Interior Analysis of Space Debris Capsule]

<Alright, I am not going to grab a wedge and hammer to pry the hatch open… *WHAM WHAM WHAM Crreeaaaaaakkk SPLOTRTCHH*

Alright, the interio- *HACK COUGH COUGH COUGH*

*A panicked Dr. Stellar can be heard retching as she knocks over a tray of tools. A door slamming shut*

[Azazel Med-bay Check-up Log]

[Patient: Sonya Stellar]

Symptoms: Cough, burning throat, eyes watering, extreme nausea, headache, rash on the right hand, singed nose hairs, REDACTED, REDACTED.

Diagnoses: Unknown… processing…. Processing… alternative Diagnoses match descriptions of studies by historic studies performed by Monarch. For treatment request such a file with your Historic archive database representative.

Have a nice day, Feel better thanks to the Company! 😊

[Sonya Stellar Log # 3]

<Drew came by just now having my dinner. I've been put in quarantine after my… incident with the pod. The pod is also in quarantine in the bay. I feel fine *Cough Cough, Hacks a nasty spit out*.

It's difficult to breathe occasionally… and that fuckin smell. I can't get it out of my head. *Groans*

I can't tell if it's in my nose or burned into my head. It was like that time Grandpa had lost power to the deep freezer in the garage. *Eugh*

It was…. Weirdly nostalgic of Earth. The grime of it all…

I need to rest… feeling dizzy again. Goodnight computer

[Computer Error log!]

[Source Quarantine Bay #2]

[Respond ASAP]

<…. Ventilation quarantine system ERROR.>

<Quarantine Compromised>

<Respond ASAP>

<Repeat>

<Clearing Error message for maximum proficiency, working smarter, not harder, Regards the Company>

[Sonya Stellar Log # 4]

<The entire fucking crew is sick. They keep complaining about the smell. A smell I can't smell. All I can smell is Grandpa's freezer. But they all smell a rotten fish barge everywhere. I'm still far too sick to go on routine space walks and have been prescribed some medication but it has to jump from Uzza to then get relayed to us when we next pass by… which isn’t for days. I need to finish Analyzing the Pod, it’s going to look bad on my record if I don’t finish a task. I'd hate to get sent back early by The Company. Fuck. I wish they would turn the heat down too…. Must be a side effect of the system glitching out. I am gonna go lie down>

[Sonya Stellar Log # 5]

<Today I awoke to the horrid sound of wet vomit hitting metal. I think the smell must be getting worse for the crew…. I still can't smell it. My nose has gone numb… I can't smell anything. They still hand me food underneath the quarantine flap. I have received no word from the Capt., The company, or even the doc. Just food…. Well, that’s not true. I can hear Drew. He is in the room next to mine. I can hear him rambling mad and hacking his lungs out. Describing the smell and the visuals of a green rot seeping through the walls. The horrid smells of burning land waste and rotten forests, trying to keep it back. I worry for all of our sanity now.>

[Sonya Stellar Log # 6]

<I'm really freaking out now. The food I received today was fucked. It was moldy, and the water browned…. I couldn’t help myself though, I ate it. And it was DELICOUS. The rancid taste of off eggs and the hints of grime in the water. It Cleared my throat and felt amazing. Am I losing it??? What little view I had of the hallway through my door has become dark… and the heat won't stop… I have now placed something over the vent… anything to stop the humidity please>

[Sonya Stellar Log # 7]

<I feel disgusting. I haven’t showered…. In… I don't know how long. Has it been days? Hours? WEEKS? How many logs have I sent off? Is anyone getting these?

Idk… the food was wonderful again today…. Slimy steak sludge with a dark green shlop in a glass. My hair… now is matting and is ruining the pillow I sleep on. The outside soundscape has changed… This morning I felt a large shift in the ship… Uzza must have docked. Which my medication must be here. I heard radios and breathing apparatuses. Bright flashlights shined through the glass, revealing that the outside was now enveloped… in a dark algae-like substance… a lot like the pod. I worried for the captain, the staff, and Drew…>

[Sonya Stellar Log # 8]

<No food came today… The ship is silent now… or well not silent… If I listen closely, I can hear a wet slap outside. Like water dripping into molasses outside. I can also hear something else… When I went over to the vent today, I noticed the metal grate had been warped, and a miasmic green smoke was wisping out… and a small whisper. I couldn’t understand. Tonight, I'm lying next to the vent in hopes I can hear what they are whispering. Just to know I'm not alone.>

[Sonya Stellar Log # 9]

<Something is definitely wrong with me. My skin is… changing. When I squeeze my palms I can feel a grease ooze out of the pores. My lungs don’t burn when I breathe this shit *A waving of hands to clear the camera sight of the building haze* Out of desperation I have started drinking some of the oozes that creep through the door and vent. It tastes so nasty…. but God, I love it. *Drool dribbles her lips*

The vent situation has not improved, the haze has increased exponentially. The lighting now flickers in the station. I don’t know how long I can keep the logs up. I will need to leave this room… I can't eat this slime forever... plus the whispers they are calling to me. *She looks off-screen suddenly… walking off screen… the computer auto sleeps. End of Log*

[Sonya Stellar Log # 10]

<The Smog it speaks. It’s Everywhere. My Lungs. My skin. The Walls, they BREATHE out the Miasma~ She tells me it is good~ yess. Yes. She finally reached out, and I accepted her. I'm breaking out today. To revel in the gift of the filth. *Heavy huffing can be heard. Long strands of drool dripped from her droopy lip, her hair long and nappy. She gets up, and with a loud guttural shlop of the gunk outside the door falls from its hinges. Maniacal laughing can be heard as she disappears into the dimly noxious hall… End of Log*

[Drew refugee aboard the Azza]

[Now volunteered member to analyze for potential scrap and recovery of information from Azazel]

[Extraction Log: Drew]

<Coming in for spacewalk entry of Azazel. Hooking extraction guideline to hatch now. Have entered Air lock, do you read me Azza? Azza? *Static* Shit…. Must be worse in here than I thought. God fucking damn it… well, gotta get this over with. *Deep sigh*

Oxygen levels 95%, Airlock is pressurized accordingly, Beginning entry… *The ding of an airlock decompression. And suddenly a WHOOSH of green and brown miasmic smog filled the airlock from within Azazel. Luckily Drew still had his space suit on, He braced bringing his hand in front of his face as the airlock filled*

The Azazel oxygen and atmosphere have been compromised. Readings from within show oxygen levels are 0%, now compromised of Sulfur, methane, and a slew of other chemicals. Stepping through the main corridor now. *Squelch squelch squelch*

The entire station has been enveloped in mucus of some kind… it's very warm to the touch I can feel it through the suit. There are mounds of rot and debris everywhere blocking entire paths within the station *Retch, Just the sight was enough to activate his gag reflex* I will radio in when I get deeper and see something interesting>

<Moving is getting difficult, the floor is thick with the shit. I can feel the warmth through my suit. So far nothing has been found for reclamation. About to approach the source.... the pod.

*Drew's visor starts to light up with warnings as he beeps into the keypad to enter. Suddenly you hear Drew yell as his entire camera feed gets enveloped in a rancid haze. Chittering laughter and insane muttering can be heard echoing through the camera's built-in mic*

Yezzzzz, drag him, DRAG HIM. Embrace yuzzzz~ Let it soakkkk. Breathe it in. The rot claims All. Maggggiieeee~>

[Last known broadcast from Company scientist Drew stationed on Azazel]

*The screen cracked, and green sludge ran down the view. It appears to be upside down facing the pod from above. The visual is a lot like a boiling cauldron overflowing with a burning acrid smog dripping from the repulsive slime that crept out. A figure floated above the cauldron, she was floating cackling to herself balling up sniffing her own rancid perfume, and calling out to Sonya who was dragging an unconscious Drew into the frame. Sonya gestures to Drew bowing to the figure. Maggie grabs Sonya by the chin, kissing her. You watch Sonya Cough and retch, thick saliva dribbling out as she can't stop taking in deep inhales of the exhaust; Nearly crumbling in euphoria. A struggling Drew starts to shout as the alien-like creature buzzes over to him lying on the ground. Her fumes cascaded and enveloped him. The only thing he could see through the putrescence was her glowing red eyes and neon teeth. Kicking his legs and flailing as he gives into the kiss from her, her saliva burning through his protective helmet shielding… stops kicking and starts to giggle. Taking in deeper and deeper drags till he enters a deep sleep. *

[Closing Case: REDACTED Azazel]

[This footage never can make it to the surface or the public eye. This is a biohazard threat on a global scale. The science team aboard Uzza and Azza have a new directive… and that’s to contain Azazel and keep an eye on the growing issue there. There will be a special team coming up on the next resupply ship, Monarch.]

[flowerflamestars]

⭐ do you have any crumbs about tidal? ⭐

TIDAL MY MONSTER CHILD MASTERPIECE

Endless crumbs, but I'm going to try to remain circumspect. Three fun scenes. Bold for commentary from here on out!

Cassian knew all the rumors.

Cassian has been ACTIVELY SEEKING OUT THE RUMORS. Their careers circle each other- their stats make them nearly level on a playing field that barely even exists. Cassian thinks Nesta in combat is like...the platonic ideal of a drift pilot.

All the stories- Serene Majesty’s design included armor made from Kaiju bone (TRUE, THANKS PROFESSOR VANSERRA), Serene was painted to match the exact blue shade of her older pilot’s eyes (False, but a very sexy coincidence that absolutely made it into war propaganda), Serene’s nuclear core was the oldest still running, and they were lucky she hadn’t melted the ocean floor of the Bering Strait right down to the mantle.

Fact: Nesta Archeron had solo piloted forty-one minutes longer than the nearest record holder, who’d died in minute sixteen.

Can you hear Cassian's admiration? That LONGING for partnership. The raw appreciation of skill. MHM BABE YOU ARE NOT LOOKING RESPECTFULLY AND YOU KNOW IT Story: Nesta Archeron called him a patchwork dickbag within moments of meeting him, and proceeded to kick his ass, before they even let them drop test.

Picture, if you will, the very Fun Mako/Raleigh fight with the poles? the compatibility test? Right. That. Tank tops. Barren light and sweaty skin. REALLY GOOD HAIR. But a hand-to-hand fight.

Cassian: oh fun yes fuck let's do this lets see how we move together, come play Archeron

Nesta: walks right up to him and clocks him

The first thing Elain said when she saw Asani was, “Oh, Nesta.”

And despite the fact that Nesta felt more like climbing bare through the Breach than getting in a jaeger with the man, she knew what her sister was seeing. The smile- two dimples on the right but one of the left. Close-cropped dark curls getting just long enough to assert themselves.

Shoulder and arms and everything that matched the face saying- you’re looking at a sculpture. You’re looking at a person whose whole being might as well have been idealized from an artists eyes.

14 drops, 12 kills. Only two back to back drops in the same jaeger.

Hand to hand combat elite. Muay Thai. Second generation marine.

Charm that had cracked Amren.

Elain: Nesta that man is more your type than Your Type. HE CAN KEEP UP WITH YOU. He's not afraid of you. “I know,” Nesta said. Nesta: YES I WANT TO CLIMB THAT MOUNTAIN

Elain arched a pale brow- different color, same shape- and hummed. “And he’s?” Elain: a perfect lock, a fucking doom, a sync so deep and long lasting you probably can't drift with ANYONE ELSE? “Yep.” Nesta: Yes. Nesta to Nesta: SO I'M PROBABLY GOING TO END UP ACCIDENTALLY KILLING HIM IN FUCKING DRIFT LIKE I DID YOU- THAT PERFECT STUPID ASSHOLE- Quietly, Elain swore.

She stole the binder out of his hand- they both pretended he hadn’t already been holding it out, that their reaches hadn’t perfectly, on time, overlapped. STILL GHOSTING BESTIES

She opened it. “Mhmm. Where are we from? Easy, we’re both American. Do we have siblings?” She snickered. “Yes. Where did we go to school? Places that are under the ocean now.”

GUYS guys guys they are both from places that no longer EXIST. They both came of age in war! they both, in a fucked way, thrive in the war. It's what they have- the infinite drift, purpose, and their siblings who are a direct part of that. Cassian tried to take the binder back. She shut it on his hand. “That gave us the childhood trauma book?” AMREN IS GOOD AT HER JOB (AND FUCKING WITH NESTA) She flicked the hand he hadn’t moved, lodged between the pages. “Origin stories, Asani.” Nesta is a fucking NERD and she likes the shape of Cassian's name in her mouth. “We already know all of this, Archeron,” He sighed, and she finally let him pull back. “Wanna flip?” It seemed like a trap- it felt like…fun. Cassian had the distinctly wild thought that Nesta must have been a nightmare in first level training, and half wished he’d seen it. Had her voice already contained that murder drawl at sixteen?

The only thing messier than baby! Feysand would have been Baby Nessian. It would have been on sight. It would have been a CATASTROPHE. they would have fucked it up so hard and then longed for each other for years until like...out of the blue eloping the very next time they crossed paths. No hesitation.

Cassian leaned forward, propped elbows on knees. “Go ahead.” He might have said it like a challenge- Nesta’s face might have brightened in catlike pleasure.

“Cassian Karam Asani. Twenty-seven years old, in service since your eighteenth birthday.” She was watching his face, and Cassian could do little but stare back. “You grew up on the East coast. Have an older brother. You’re a caffeine addict who likes to box. Dad died when you were ten.You have your mother’s green eyes and your paternal grandfathers face.” Her gaze flickered up, caught him.

Cassian could hear his heart hammering in his chest, pull from the rise and fall of his ribs too fast. “That’s not in my file.”

Cassian to the world: calm, cheerful, good at his job. Cassian to himself: Sure I'm Good at this Sure I Can Feel Her in my BONES- sure i definitely fucked this up- there's no way nESTA WANTS TO KNOW ME- SHE CAN'T POSSIBLY-

Nesta: it's real bitch “We dropped, Asani.” More than a drop, a successful drift. He didn’t need to say it, Nesta was already sniping in victory. “You love strawberry matcha cake.” “I can make it, too,” Cassian shot, with forced lightness.

Cassian: I COULD MAKE IT FOR YOU? what else did you see? if I'm yours...you're mine? please.

“Nesta Iseult Archeron. West Coast. Your mom taught literature, which is how you got that name. She died when you were twelve. You’re the older sister. You’re also a caffeine addict. Three tattoos. You miss sparring with your sister, and it makes you feel like shit. You horde Korean moisturizer.” “Eight tattoos.” She didn’t mean herself. SHE'S GOING TO LEARN THEM WITH HER TEETH YALL

“You hate the color blue.” hELLO, Trauma She laughed, and it wasn’t particularly joyful. “Your brother’s downstairs in the labs.” “Wrong.” Realer smile, he wanted to keep talking, “I have two.”

Nesta recrossed her legs, the entire table monopolized. “Middle child?’

An outstretched brown hand, tilted back and forth, “Azriel is only a year older than me. My other brother is…more complicated. Much younger. Az and I half raised him, but we don’t really talk.” And Nesta, mystifyingly said, “Me too. Two sisters, I mean.” She rolled her shoulders, made a face that said fuck, as her mouth continued with, “I’ve been trying to keep her out of a jaeger since she was fourteen.”

Nesta casts them IN THE SAME ROLE in her head. The middle child thing trips her for precisely two seconds and then. of course. Yeah, of course. “Three Archerons in the corps? Thats”- “The Admiralties wet dream, I know. She’s good- she’s so, so good, but I’m trying to make sure she grows up first.”

Nesta: OVER MY DEAD FUCKNG BODY WILL MY BABY SISTER GO FIGHT THIS WAR

“Rhys can’t drift. He’s Airforce now, incredible- twenty years ago, he’d be on tract to be an astronaut, but now-“ I loved making Rhys finally bad at something? He's a smart, angry kid thrashing around in a difficult world. He's SO CLASSICALLY YOUNG AND STUPID ABOUT EVERYTHING “Now the world is gone to shit?” “Tried to, at least.” Her laugh was nearly silent, small. Real.

Cassian looked at Nesta, and Nesta looked at Cassian.

The Look. The i SEE YOU AND YOU SEE ME, no this changes nothing, no this changes everything Look-

Amren is very, very, VERY good at her job, have I mentioned that?

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch 5- Bread Cat Power Pack

Co Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Jake and Stella patch up their friendship, but Evan isn’t particularly happy about it.

 Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  We KNOW this is a slow burn but we promise things are going to heat up soon!!!

TLAYLI Masterlist  // Main Masterlist 

Stella stood at the trunk of the CIA issued Sedan, grimacing. It was the middle of January, cold and snowy, and she had a few bags of shopping to get back into her apartment. She was trying to figure out if she could make it upstairs with all of it at once, to prevent having to come back down, but was failing to see how it was possible.

“Needs some help?” a familiar voice asked and she turned to see Jake coming towards her, still in his uniform, his heavy boots leaving prints in the light, powdery dusting of fresh snow.

She smiled “Yeah, actually. You can grab a couple of these, save me coming back down.”

Jake looked in the trunk and scoffed “You stocking for winter, Stel?” he asked as he grabbed three of the bags.

She snorted “I literally have nothing in my cupboards.” She picked up the remaining two, locked the car and followed him to the main doors of the Condo building. “I’ve not really been here over the last two weeks so…” “I guess you’ve been spending time at your boyfriend’s huh?” Jake asked, his voice neutral as Stella managed to open the door.

“His name is Evan.” She rolled her eyes “And yeah, you could say that.”

Jake remained quiet as they strode to the elevator. Stella called it down and once the doors pinged open, they stepped inside and Jake placed the bags he was carrying down at his feet.

“So, I haven’t seen you since New Year.” Stella looked at him “How’s stuff going? You and Britney good?” “Yeah, erm, about that…” Jake cleared his throat a little as he selected their floor.

As the doors shut, Stella turned to look at him, frowning “Is there something wrong or…”

“That depends on who you ask.” Jake mused “If you ask her then yeah.  She’ll probably tell you I’m a…what were her exact words? Oh right, a fucking asshole”

“What did you do?” Stella sighed and Jake grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I dumped her.”

Stella raised her eyebrows “Well speaking from experience, I can kinda see why she might be a little upset.”

Jake looked at her for a moment, deciding whether or not to respond to her little dig but in the end he didn’t get chance as the elevator stopped and opened on their floor. Jake picked up his bags and followed her across to her apartment. She set the bags she was carrying down, grabbed her key and the door swung open. Jake stepped in after her, nudging the door shut with his foot and instantly that familiar smell of vanilla, fresh laundry and the light tones of her perfume hit his senses. He hadn’t been in here for months. They made their way through to the little kitchen and she flipped on the lights, Jake dropping the bags onto the side.

“So are you ok about the pair of you being over or…” Stella turned to face him and Jake wrinkled his nose.

“Well, I wasn’t that into her. I mean, she was just…” he stopped and shrugged a little “I’m all right, yeah.”

Stella snorted, shaking her head “Wow.”

“Had to be honest with her.”

At that Stella couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her throat “That’s a first”

“Wow, that’s the second dig in the last 2 minutes.” Jake arched an eyebrow and Stella inwardly cursed herself. He’d done nothing to deserve either of the shots she’d taken, especially after he was being nothing but helpful

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Was it?” he asked.

There was a moment’s pause before they both spoke at the same time.

“Look, Jake, I don’t wanna…”

“I miss you Stel…you know, us hanging out.

The last bit of Jake’s sentence was added hastily and Stella took a deep breath.

“You’ve been a jerk to me recently, JJ”

“I know I fucked it all up.” He continued pleading his case “But I love you Stel, as friends, ya know?”

She studied him for a moment, and Jake held his breath before her eyes softened, the way they always did when she was coming round, and he exhaled slowly.

“Guess I miss you too.” She said quietly.

At her words Jake’s face split into a grin. “You guess or…”

“Don’t push it.”

He laughed, and on a roll he decided to see how far he could edge his luck. “I don’t suppose you’re free tonight, maybe grab a pizza, I got beer.”

Stella felt her face fall “Sorry JJ, Ev’s coming over.” and as she spoke she realised she actually was sorry. For a split second she considered calling Ev and cancelling, which in itself confused her. Why was she even thinking that? And then she realised, it was because she missed Jake. Despite everything, they’d been through too much for her not to care for him.

Jake nodded, “Okay, well, maybe another night?”

Stella blinked, she’d been expecting some sarcastic quip about Evan but none had come, which surprised her a little. That said, she smiled and nodded “Yeah I’d like that.”

Jake nodded “Right, I’ll err…let you unpack all that then and see you later I guess.”

“Yeah, great. Oh, and thanks.” She smiled “For helping me.”

“Well, you know me, I’m not one to leave a damsel in distress.” He winked. “I’ll see myself out.”

He made his way out of the apartment, closing her door behind him, taking a deep breath as he headed over the landing. Despite the setback about the pizza and beer, he felt good. The air was clearer, it was good progress, easy easy catch a monkey and all that.

He fished in his pocket for his keys and just as he was opening his door he heard hers open behind him.

“Look, I got a little while.” Stella spoke “I was gonna bake some cookies, you wanna help?”

Jensen allowed himself a grin before he turned to face her “You miss me already?”

“Don’t push it asswipe.” She shot back and he laughed.

“Gonna make extra dough so I can eat it?”

She rolled her eyes “Yes, dur.”

“Ok, gimme ten to change and I’ll come over.”

“Use your key.” She nodded, before she pulled her head back in her apartment and shut the door.

Jensen gave a little fist pump of victory as he stepped inside his hallway, smirking to himself “Operation Petunia is a go…”

**** After a quick shower, Jensen changed into a pair of grey sweats, a plain navy blue t-shirt and headed over the hall in his socks. As instructed, he let himself in and walked through to the kitchen, the sound of the radio growing louder as he went. He stopped in the doorway and watched as Stella stood with her back to him, dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized white- slouchy vest top with a tighter cami underneath, rifling in a cupboard. He felt a sudden, nostalgic pang for the times she used to dress casually like that around their student quarters or back at home when they were slobbed in front of the TV at her Ma’s or his Parents. With a little breath, he coughed and she turned to face him, smiling before she nodded to the fridge.

“Make yourself useful and grab us a coupla’ beers will ya?”

He saluted her and she gave a snort as he headed to the fridge and pulled it open, giving a groan as he spotted the Sam Adams. Grabbing two, he popped the tops before he handed her one. She thanked him and continued pulling the ingredients she needed out of the cupboards, the pair of them falling into an easy, but still careful conversation. Stella cursed as she mumbled something about her digital scales running out of batteries and then retrieved the old faithful analogue ones.

“Why is it, when you need something, that’s always the time it’s gonna end up nor working?” she grumbled, setting the dial to zero carefully.

“One of life’s many mysteries Stel.” Jake said wisely as she began to measure the flour out. “Along with why cats always fall on their feet, snidey little bastards.”

Stella snorted, “Or why buttered bread always lands butter down when you drop it? Although I think there’s a scientific explanation to that.”

“There is.” Jake nodded, taking a drink from his beer “When the bread falls out of your hand, it does so at an angle, see, by nature of it having slipped from its previous position, and it rotates.” Jensen twisted his hand in the air to demonstrate his point “Given that it’s normally dropped from a hand or a table, which is like two feet or so, there’s enough time for the toast to rotate about one-half of a turn and thus it lands upside down relative to its original position and oh my God, I’ve just had a brainwave!” he trailed off, grinning

Stella looked at him, her mouth dropping open “What, hang on, back up!”

“No, listen. I just said a cat always lands on its feet right?”

Yeah.” Stella looked at him.

“And you said that bread with butter always falls butter side down?”

Stella’s eyes squinted in confusion. “Jake, what the fuck are you…”

“Just hear me out.” he looked at her as he placed his beer bottle on the side behind him. “If…” both his hands flew up, pointers extended, the bottom of his t-shirt riding up slightly as he did so “If you fastened bread with butter to a cat’s back, then the Cat will keep turning and never fall on the ground.”

Stella blinked and simply looked at him, the way she always did when he was being utterly ridiculous.

“And then, if I attached the bread cat to a generator…” he grinned and held his hands out by his sides, palms open facing upwards “Infinite energy.”

There was a pause before Stella bust out laughing.

“That is the dumbest thing I ever heard!” she shook her head “And that’s saying something coming from you!”

“You won’t be laughing when I’m a millionaire.” Jensen said sagely. “Bread Cat Power Pack, copyright Jacob Calvin Jensen.”

“The only way you’ll ever become a millionaire is if they give you a dollar every time someone laughs at your stupid, shit ideas.” She shook her head, her hands falling to her hips.

“Laugh all you want Stelly, but I’m planning on buying a yellow hummer with the profits.”

Stella paused. That was the first time he’d called her Stelly in…well, she couldn’t actually remember. But it felt nice. This whole scenario felt nice in fact, the pair of them, just hanging out. Just like old times, before it all went to shit.

She smiled “What is it with you and hummers?”

“I just like them.”

“They’re vile, JJ.”

“No, they aren’t. They’re classy.” He picked his beer back up.

“Classy.” Stella snorted and Jake pointed his bottle towards her.

“You never could appreciate the finer things in life.” he sighed dramatically.

“Considering I appreciated you for years that’s a dumbass thing to say.” she arched an eyebrow at him

“Aww you sayin’ I’m a finer thing, Stel?” he teased and she rolled her eyes, ignoring him.

“Why yellow?”

“Why not?” he popped a shoulder at her question before he grinned “It matches my sunny disposition.”

At that Stella gave another snort “God, Jake!”

Jensen simply grinned back and Stella watched him for a second, noticing how relaxed he seemed. Every time she’d seen him over the past month or so he’d been tense. But today, gone was the unusual sulky demeanour he’d embodied recently and he wasn’t snapping or being mean. He was simply being Jake. The Jake she adored.

“Hey, Stel?” Jake asked, dragging her from her thoughts. “Reckon we can make these cookies in the shape of Hummers?”

“Do you have a Hummer shaped cookie cutter?” she asked, turning her attention back to the job in hand, tossing the ingredients into the mixing bowl.

“No.” Jensen wrinkled his nose “Why would I have one of those?”

“Then that’s your answer.”

“Buzz kill.” He muttered, fighting to keep the smirk of his face as he knew exactly what effect those words would have on her. She hated it when he insinuated she was no fun.

“Buzz kill?” she turned to look at him.

“Yup.”

“Fuck you.” She retorted, and Jake gave a splutter as a handful of flour hit him straight in the face, going right up his nostrils and into his mouth.

He blinked, looked at Stella before he shook his head "Oh, Stel, it's on..." he smirked before he moved towards her and she gave a shriek as he easily manhandled her out of the way and grabbed the flour she was trying to move out of his reach. The kitchen filled with yells and laughter as handful after handful went flying around into faces, hair, just about any visible body part and suddenly they were jerked from their little flour war when a clearing of a throat could be heard. Both of them turned to see Evan standing in the kitchen door, a bouquet of bright flowers in one hand and a bottle of something in the other.

"How the fuck did you get in?” Jensen blurted out before he could stop himself and Stella punched him on the arm “Ow, Stell, shit!”

“Don’t be rude.” She glared at him.

“For your information,” Evan stated as he walked into the kitchen “, not that it’s any of your business, but Stel gave me the spare key.”

“Huh.” Jake looked at him before he grinned “I got one of those too.”

Evan looked at him, his eyes squinted slightly “Good for you.”

“Yeah, it is!” Jake continued, the grin still stood on his face.

The two men remained staring at one another, Jake covered head to toe in flour as Stella gave a little groan but before she could tell the pair of them to behave, Evan spoke.

“What’s all this mess?” he asked, nodding to the flour all over the room.

“Oh, we had a mission where we seized over Forty kilos of cocaine.” Jake spoke, his voice deadly serious “I thought I'd bring it round for a good time.”

At that point Stella gave a snort of laughter, nudging Jake hard on the arm, the pair of them giggling again before she spotted the look on Evan’s face. His features were completely serious and there was a flash of anger in his eyes. So she coughed and shook her head.

“I was trying to bake some cookies and Jakey was helping me, sort of.” She shrugged “He’s more of a pain in the ass than a help, mind.”

She didn’t miss the way Evan cringed when she called Jensen ‘Jakey’ but before she could say anything Jensen grumbled.

“Rude.”

“Well you are. You're a monumental pain in the ass” Stella rolled her eyes.

“Yeah but you love me Stel” Jake winked and Stella arched an eyebrow, folding her arms in cloud of flour.

“Jury's out”

“You know…” Evan spoke, his tone sarcastic as he set the bottle he was carrying on the kitchen side “..if i'm interrupting something I can leave.”

“Easy man! But yeah-“ Jensen flashed his trademark grin “You just interrupted us.”

Stella slapped him round the back of the head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Stop hitting me!” Jensen rubbed the place where her palm had connected.

“Well stop being a jerk!”

He turned to face her and sarcastic quip he had prepared died as he saw that she was no longer grinning at him.

“Shouldn’t you go and get cleaned?” Evan spoke and Jake looked at him, wrinkling his nose.

“I kinda like being dirty.”

Stella groaned again as she wiped her face and hands free from flour and then nodded to the bouquet Evan had in his hands “Are they for me?”

“No, I bought them for Jensen.” He dead panned with a roll of his eyes, before his handsome face split into a grin. “Course they're for you baby.”

Jensen watched as Stella smiled broadly and he took in the bunch of brightly coloured gerberas and roses, frowning a little. And then, once more he just couldn’t help but stir the pot at little bit more.

“Oh man. She hasn’t told you about her favourites, hasn’t she?” he nodded to the flowers. Evan frowned and Stella wheeled round to glare at Jake.

“Seriously Jake, shut up.”

“You should have brought her petunias.” Jensen sighed, his hands on his hips as she shook his head with the manner of a father disappointed at his child.

“Yeah, see you're talking but all I'm hearing is noise.” Evan rolled his eyes as Stella reached for the bouquet.

“I’ll put them in a vase. Thanks baby, they’re gorgeous” she beamed at him.

Jake couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the smug look on Evan’s face, most likely cos she just called him baby in front of him. But seriously, what kind of dick boyfriend doesn’t know what his girl’s favourite flowers are?

Evan then picked up the bottle he'd set on the side with a flourish and spun it so the label was facing Stella "I also saw this at one of the stalls at the market and it made me think of you."

Stella looked at him, not understanding for a moment, before she read the label and her eyes opened wide.

“Pumpkin spiced gin…oh my god!” she laughed, taking it from him.

Evan grinned “Now you can make alcoholic lattes.”

“Or just drink it neat over ice.” She smiled at him “I bet this tastes amazing.”

At that Evan smirked and when he spoke again his voice dropped an octave “Probably not as good as you but we’ll give it a go.”

At that Stella flushed and Jake gave an audible groan and then immediately wished he hadn’t as he’d given the dickhead everything he wanted. Evan turned to him with a maddeningly smug look on his face “Still here Jensen? Thought you were going.”

“You wish.” Jake mumbled, but thankfully neither of them heard him as Stella was studying the bottle label to try and hide her embarrassment. He took a deep breath, he knew he had to be careful not to make Stella pissed at him again. So, in a rare self-aware moment, he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder “Well as riveting as chatting with you is, Ev, you're right. I got stuff to do, you know, places to go, people to see..."

“Yeah, sure you do.” Evan replied flippantly “Tell Britney I said hi.”

“Ev, don’t.” Stella shook her head and Evan frowned, turning to her.

“What, I’m not…”

“It’s ok Stelly, he didn't know.” Jensen hid the little smile that was threatening to creep onto his lips at the flinch Evan had made when he used Stella’s old nickname and he gave a shrug. “We broke up.”

“You broke up?” Evan repeated, his face blank. “I’m sorry man.”

“Don’t be.” Jake waved a hand. “Actually it was me who broke it off.”

“Well, still, you must be a little bit...upset, I suppose?”

“Nope.” Jake shook his head “What's got 2 thumbs and is free, single and ready to mingle?” he jerked his thumbs at himself. “This guy"

With that he pat Evan on his shoulder “See ya later.” and he made his way out of Stella’s apartment, closing door behind him. Once it was shoot he paused and took a deep breath.

Fuck that guy.

Up until him turning up they’d been having a great time, simply messing around in the kitchen like they used to. Mind you, it had been a good afternoon, the pair of them were back on even terms, so all in all…yeah, Jensen felt buoyed. With a little spring in his step he headed over the hall back to his apartment and straight to the fridge for a beer. As he popped the lid his phone pinged with a message from Pooch. He, Cougs and Roque were heading out for a few beers and Jake’s presence was apparently “not required but welcome.” Jensen smiled, he was in a good mood so, yeah, drinks!

He showered again to get rid of the flour, changed into a pair of jeans and a casual black sweater before he shrugged on his warm SuperDry coat and headed back out. As he passed Stella’s door on the way to the elevator he could hear her raised voice and instantly he felt his skin prickle. His Jakey Sense as Stella had jokingly dubbed it was tingling. He paused and moved closed to the doors and could hear her and Evan were arguing.

He shouldn’t listen, he knew that, but they were being so loud it was impossible not to. Plus, when all’s said and done he was also a nosey bastard.

“For fucks sake, Ev! You've been fine for the last twenty minutes, why are you brining this up now?”

“All I said was I wish you'd told me about the flowers! I've bought you bouquets before and you never mentioned petunias.”

Jake smirked a little as Stella groaned.

“It’s really not that big a deal!”

“Well apparently it is according to Jensen!” Evan shot back.

“So that's what this is about. It isn't the flowers at all is it? It's Jake” Stella responded, her voice agitated and Jake could completely picture her stood there, arms folded, glaring up at him. He’d seen it often enough himself.

“And what if it is?” Evan’s voice was equally as loud.

“Oh for fucks sake...he's my friend, my best friend.”

“And your EX, Stella!”

“Carry on this way and you will be as well!” Stella shot back and at that Jake felt his smirk grow even wider.  

“Way to go Stel…” he mumbled to himself.

“What do you mean?” Evan’s voice was louder still “You hang out with your ex and I’m the problem?”

“No, the problem is you being all pissy about something that isn't really a big issue. Jake and I...” Stella sighed, “We have history, a lot of history. Even before we dated we were friends and it's been so shit recently when we haven't been talking and...” her voice was gathering in speed and Jensen could tell she was starting to get upset. He had heard it and seen it a thousand times before.

“And why do you think that is, Stel?” Evan’s voice was now quiet, but the tone was cold and threatening, and Jensen took a deep breath. He didn’t like the way this was going. “Come on, you can’t be that oblivious.” Stella didn’t reply, and Evan continued “See, you know I'm right. You were on bad terms because he was a jealous asshole, you said it yourself with the way he behaved when we had our first date in the coffee shop. And everyone knows he was only dating that Britney bint to try and piss you off. Even your own sister said that.”

Jensen could feel himself getting hot with anger at the way the bastard was using Rey against Stella, despite the fact Evan was completely right. As much as Jensen had denied it at the time, that was totally why he ended up with Brit. Call it a rebound, a stubborn attempt to prove to himself he didn’t need Stella, whatever. The core of it was always down to her.

“Huh, he aint actually as stupid as he looks.” Jensen muttered to himself.

“He wasn’t jealous.” Stella responded, her voice quiet “How could he be when he dumped me? Twice.”

At that Jensen bowed her head, the hurt in her voice was evident.

“Who knows what goes through his head or why he did that, I've no idea, but if you think he's over you then you're mistaken. And I don’t like it, Stella, not one bit.” Evan took a deep breath “I think you should stay away from him.”

Jensen felt his mouth drop open a little and he blinked, had he seriously just told her that? He waited with baited breath for Stella’s reply, which came a second or so later, in a tone he knew only too well, she’d had enough.

“You know what, I’m not in the mood for going out tonight.”

“Okay, well, let’s stay in then.” Evan’s tone suddenly flipped to the doting boyfriend again and Jensen frowned once more. This guy was unreal. “I can cook us something”

“Dumb bastard, take the hint.” Jensen grumbled as Stella audibly sighed. He could picture her, running her hand through her hair, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes.

“I need to get cleaned up and then sort out this mess.” She replied “I think it’s better if you go home.”

“Seriously?” Evan spoke with disbelief “You’re actually telling me to go?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause “Fine.” Evan responded “I’ll leave you to it. You and Jensen can finish whatever it was you were doing.”

“We were making cookies.”

“Whatever, Stella. If you’re more interested in defending him than having dinner with me then, that’s you’re call.”

And then Jensen realised he needed to disappear before Evan came out and found him. He hastily made his way back to his apartment, and had just gotten inside when Stella’s door was wrenched open. So as not to attract attention to himself with the sound of the lock clicking, Jensen didn’t quite close his fully and stayed waiting for Evan to disappear. To Jensen’s horror he paused, looking directly at his door, before he looked back at Stella’s and then made his way to the elevator. After what seemed like an age it arrived and he stepped into it, the door pinging shut behind him.

Jensen felt bad, he really did. He hadn’t wanted Stella to be upset. But more over he felt uneasy. The way Evan had spoken to her, and directed the blame straight back onto her and then told her to stay away from him was  manipulative, controlling almost.

And he didn’t like it one bit.

****

“Jensen, what’s with you man?” Roque asked, placing his empty bottle on the table. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-annoying tonight.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He felt Pooch’s eyes on him and purposely ignored him, looking around the bar at anything and everything. His eyes fell momentarily on a table of girls some four or so down from theirs one of them bore a fleeting resemblance to Stella actually and he hastily looked away, glancing down at his beer. He necked the rest and set the empty bottle down.

“My round.” Pooch nodded as he stood up, his hand falling onto Jensen’s shoulder “Give me a hand man?”

“Sure.” Jake stood up and followed him to the bar, passing the table of girls as they went.

“The brunette is giving you the eye.” Pooch nudged him. Jensen looked at him.

“What?”

“Okay, out with it.” Pooch demanded as they reached the bar “What’s wrong Jensen, and don’t tell me everything is fine coz I know you, and you’re not being you. You’ve been positively pleasant all evening and now when some chick is giving you the eye you don’t even notice?”

Jensen sighed, “I’m just a bit worried about Stel, man”

“Arty?” Pooch frowned, “What’s wrong with her? Is she ok? I though Evan was coming over to hers tonight?”

“He did. They had an argument, he left.” Jensen shrugged.

“They had an argum-wait? How do you know? Did she tell you? Coz I thought you weren’t on particularly good terms.”

“We sorted stuff out.” Jensen shook his head

“You were listening weren’t you?” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“That’s not the point.” Jensen shook his head and Pooch groaned having been given all the confirmation he needed “The point is what he said. And how he said it. He was angry, Pooch.”

“Everyone gets angry when they argue.”

“Yeah but he…I dunno, I don’t trust him.”

“Oh come on Jensen. Stop it. Enough with that shit. Stel is with him and she’s happy, face it.”

“He told her that he thinks she should stay away from me.” Jensen looked at Pooch. “Does that not strike you as, well, controlling?”

Pooch looked at Jensen and could see on his face that he was genuinely concerned.

“Ok, start from the top.” Pooch instructed, so Jensen did, explaining and Pooch took a deep breath “So now you’re worried he could be manipulating her?”

“I'm worried he’s not everything he’s cracked up to be.” Jensen replied after a short pause “And that she could end up hurt. And I don’t mean merely emotionally.”

“Woah, man that’s…that’s a big leap.” Pooch looked at him, before he turned to the bar tender and ordered their round, before looking back at him. “From being a little narky and, ok, possibly maybe slightly overbearing to being a fuckin’ woman beater.”

“Maybe.” Jensen sighed, “But isn’t it always the one’s you don’t expect to do it that do?”

At that Pooch was forced to accept Jensen made a good point and he bit his lip, cocking his head to once side. “Ok, suppose you heard right and the guy’s dodgy so to speak. What you wanna do about it?”

“I suppose I could do some digging.” Jensen mused “See if I can find any of his old girlfriends out there, see what they have to say.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I like where this is going.” Pooch groaned.

Jensen sighed, “I honestly have no idea Pooch. My gut was to tell Stella that I was concerned but knowing her she'll just accuse me of being a dick and it would just make it look like he was right about me.”

“Which he is.” Pooch snorted “You are jealous.”

“Yeah, well that's maybe but I'm being serious here Pooch. I don't trust the guy, and if she ends up hurt when I could have done something to stop it I'll never forgive myself.”

Pooch bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at Jensen, he could see the worry etched into every line on his friend’s face. With a loud sigh he shook his head, “Listen man, whatever you want to do I have your back. Wanna go all CSI on the guy? Then count me in. But do you and the rest of us for that matter a favour and admit to your feelings for her once and for all and do something about it or leave her be.”

Jensen snorted “You been talking to Clay, Pooch?”

“What? No.” Pooch handed over his card to pay for the round. “Why would you think that?”

“He just said something similar at New Years. That's all.” Jensen took a deep breath “This would never have happened if I hadn't been such an asshole.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Not helping Pooch.”

“Listen man, we don’t need to talk to one another to see you have strong feelings for her. We all know that and we all have been putting up with your stupid ass decisions.”

“Still not helping Pooch.”

“Ok Jensen.” Pooch shrugged, taking his card back off the man behind the bar with a thanks. “You could always try actually talking to him? You never know, he might be genuinely-“

“Are you nuts? The guy hates me!” Jensen practically exploded “And suppose I am right, which I may not be, I know, it happens occasionally.” He shrugged as Pooch rolled his eyes “Not only do I tip him off I’m onto him, he’ll rush to tell Stel as soon as I turn my back. Make it seem I’m harassing him.”

“So instead you wanna track his old girlfriend’s down and go poking into his past?”

Jake flashed his signature grin.

“Coz thats not harassing him. At all.” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“It’s not if he doesn’t know I’m harassing him.” Jake shrugged and Pooch let out an exasperated moan of a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I already told you Jensen. Whatever you want man. Just...oh, I dunno, try not to fuck it up with your usual chaotic dumbassery.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Jensen shrugged as he picked up 2 of the bottles from the bar.

“Sure you don’t.”

******

Two more beers later and Jensen called it a night and headed home, he wasn’t in the mood all things considered. Kicking off his sneakers he plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote, flipping through the channels. But it was no good, he couldn’t concentrate. His mind was working overtime as he was trying to figure out what exactly he was going to do. It was frustrating, because normally he’d just talk to Stella, they never had secrets but this was completely out of the question, and that frustrated the fuck out of him.

His rambling thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. Frowning, because that meant that either someone had gotten into the building or it was a resident, he stood up and made his way over to the door. He pulled it open and gave a little blink as he saw Stella stood there in a large, oversized sweater, leggings and thick socks, her hair pulled on top of her head in a messy bun, a batch of cookies in her hands.

“Oh, hey Stel.” He said, surprise evident in his voice “Come on in.”

She smiled as she stepped into his flat. “I thought you’d be out all night because Pooch said you were all out for drinks this evening. But I heard you come in so I came to bring you some cookies. After all you helped me with them, well, sort of.”

“Thanks Sel.” He smiled, genuinely as he took them from her “You want a drink or…”

“No, I’m good thanks.”

“Ok, well, go through, be with you in a second. I’ll just put these bad boys away.”

She nodded and turned, heading towards the lounge as Jensen made his way quickly into the kitchen and deposited the cookies in the tin, grabbing one as he did so. God they tasted just as good as they always did. He grabbed the empty container and headed into the lounge where Stella was sat on the couch and she smiled as he handed it to her.

“You ok?” he asked and she looked at him, nodding but Jensen could tell she wasn’t so he decided to call her out, see if she’d open up to him.

“You know, I've known you too long. You can't lie to me.”

She sighed.

“What’s bothering you, Stel?” he pressed as he sat next to her keeping a respectful distance of one seat cushion between them.

“Me and Ev, we err...had an argument before. Kind of a big one”

“How big?” Jensen asked, all the time knowing he had to play it cool or she would know he overheard.

“I… “ she fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater a little before she snorted “I sent him home big”

“Can I ask what you argued about? I mean if you sent him home it must have been pretty serious.”

Stella looked at him, clearly debating whether or not to tell him and then she sighed “He wanted to go out, I didn't. It spiralled from there.”

Jake took a deep breath as Stella looked at him having just told him a barefaced lie. What killed him the most was he knew she was doing it to spare his feelings, and he didn’t think he’d ever wanted to kiss her more. But he couldn’t, so instead he gave her a small nod and what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.

“Look, I'm sorry if any of it was my fault. And I'm sure you'll sort it out.”

“Yeah, I guess. In any case thanks for listening.”

Jake laughed “That it, we done?”

“Not much else to tell you. We fought, and maybe I overreacted to something he said. It’s just...” she studied his face and Jensen got the impression she was searching for some indication Evan was right about him being jealous. He fought so hard not to give her any, and in the end she shrugged “It doesn’t matter, it’s no big deal.”

“Big enough to make you upset though.”

“Well, it’s the first argument we’ve had.”

“Well you can drown your sorrows in pumpkin flavoured gin.” Jensen sniffed and at that she grimaced.

“Between you and me, I tried it before. It’s fucking awful.”

Jake laughed, “Then I guess Evan was right and you do taste better.”

“Jake!” Stella scoffed, slapping his arm.

“What? It was a compliment!”

“You're gross”

“Yeah but…”he smirked “…made you smile”

“Yeah, you do.” She looked at him, “I mean did. You know, just then…”

“I know.”

Stella gave him another soft smile “Thanks again, I should…” she gestured to the door with her head and Jake nodded.

“Walk you home?”

“I live across the hall.” She scoffed as she stood up

“Yeah but…” Jensen breathed in through his teeth as he also rose from his seat “Some dodgy people in this building Stel”

“Yeah, you're one of em.”

“Hey, you could be attacked by Mrs. Hunter’s Cat. You know it went for my ankle yesterday?” He looked at her seriously. “Like I said, snide little bastards. Cats are not to be trusted.”

“Alright then badass, you better see me safe across the hall.” She chuckled.

Jake followed her to the door where she turned and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a soft hug. Pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head he stepped back and looked at her.

“You know where I am if you need me, don’t you?”

She nodded “Thanks. Night Jakey.”

“Night Stel.”

He watched her cross the hall, and when she walked inside she gave him a last smile before she shut the door.

Jensen exhaled loudly, before he turned and headed back into his own apartment, the door clicking behind him.

*****

Jensen didn’t sleep particularly well that night. His worries and concerns about Stella kept running through his mind and at six am he gave up, hauling himself out of bed for a run. On his way back he stopped by the bakery on the corner of the street to grab himself a croissant and a coffee and headed back to the condo, munching his breakfast. As he walked across the parking lot he spotted Evan’s car was parked outside the main door, the man himself sat inside, waiting.

And then all logic flew from Jensen’s mind. Fuck treading softly.

He stalked over and round to the passenger side, yanking it open and sinking into the seat besides Evan as the man looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

“S’up Agent E.” he smiled at him, taking another bite of his croissant. “You waiting for Stel?”

“Why else would I be here?”

Jensen shrugged “Maybe you like parking lots.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m waiting for Stella.”

“Why not just use your spare key?” Jensen asked, taking a loud slurp of his coffee before he looked at Evan. “Wait, more to the point, why are you not up there? Did you not stay?” The nerve in Evan’s jaw twitched and Jensen grinned. “You guys aint had a fight have you?” When the agent didn’t reply Jake took a bite of his croissant. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“What do you want, Jensen?” Evan looked at him, his features dark and Jake knew the time for joking was done. He took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Honestly? For you to fuck off.”

“Oh I bet you do.” Evan narrowed his eyes, his voice low and Jensen snorted.

“Not much of a bet, I just admitted it but whatever.”

“Well unlucky for you I’m not going anywhere.”

“For now.” Jensen shrugged “She’ll see through you at some point.”

“Face it Jensen, you fucked up.” Evan shook his head “Now I’m warning you, stay away from her, and me, and leave us alone.”

Jensen took a deep breath. “Ok, I was trying to be polite but I’ll get straight to the point.”

“Please do.” Evan’s voice was loaded with sarcasm.

“I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you.” Jensen stated and Evan gave a huge guffaw of laughter, Jensen merely shook his head “Yeah, you might laugh but I swear to God you hurt her and I will fucking kill you slowly and painfully.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Evan asked.

“Yes.” Jensen said simply “You forget, I’m a lethal trained killing machine.” He shrugged “And then there’s Clay, and Roque, and Pooch and Cougs…you kick one of us, we all shout ouch, you get my drift.”

He saw a flicker of something that might have been concern on Evan’s faced but no sooner had he spotted it, it was gone and the Agent simply swallowed and fixed Jensen with a glare.

“What makes you so sure I’m going to hurt her?”

“Because when I mentioned it before, instead of protesting that you wouldn’t, you simply turned it back to being about you.” Jensen shrugged “Now if someone had said that to me, I’d be doing everything I could to try and convince them they were wrong.”

“I don’t have to justify myself to you.” Evan snorted, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t” Jake shrugged “But you will answer to me if you do hurt her, like I said, I’m watching you shithead.”

“You know, when Stella hears you’ve been threatening me…”

“We both know you’re not going to tell her.” Jake shook his head “I mean you’ve already argued once. And I’d lay odds on that being about me. So, are you really gonna push it again when you’re hanging on by a thread? Don’t think so buddy.”

He took another obnoxiously loud slurp of his coffee and there was a pause before Evan exploded. “Ok, I’ve had enough of this, get out of my fucking car!”

“Gladly.” Jensen nodded, scrunching up the wrapper his croissant had been in. He tossed it into the foot-well and looked at it for a second before he shrugged “This car is full of garbage anyway.” And with that he climbed out headed inside, not bothering to look back.

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Chapter 5: Bread Cat Power Pack Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Jake and Stella patch up their friendship, but Evan isn’t particularly happy about it.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N:  We KNOW this is a slow burn but we promise things are going to heat up soon!!!

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 4 Part 2

Stella stood at the trunk of the CIA issued Sedan, grimacing. It was the middle of January, cold and snowy, and she had a few bags of shopping to get back into her apartment. She was trying to figure out if she could make it upstairs with all of it at once, to prevent having to come back down, but was failing to see how it was possible.

“Needs some help?” a familiar voice asked and she turned to see Jake coming towards her, still in his uniform, his heavy boots leaving prints in the light, powdery dusting of fresh snow.

She smiled “Yeah, actually. You can grab a couple of these, save me coming back down.”

Jake looked in the trunk and scoffed “You stocking for winter, Stel?” he asked as he grabbed three of the bags.

She snorted “I literally have nothing in my cupboards.” She picked up the remaining two, locked the car and followed him to the main doors of the Condo building. “I’ve not really been here over the last two weeks so…” “I guess you’ve been spending time at your boyfriend’s huh?” Jake asked, his voice neutral as Stella managed to open the door.

“His name is Evan.” She rolled her eyes “And yeah, you could say that.”

Jake remained quiet as they strode to the elevator. Stella called it down and once the doors pinged open, they stepped inside and Jake placed the bags he was carrying down at his feet.

“So, I haven’t seen you since New Year.” Stella looked at him “How’s stuff going? You and Britney good?” “Yeah, erm, about that…” Jake cleared his throat a little as he selected their floor.

As the doors shut, Stella turned to look at him, frowning “Is there something wrong or…”

“That depends on who you ask.” Jake mused “If you ask her then yeah.  She’ll probably tell you I’m a…what were her exact words? Oh right, a fucking asshole”

“What did you do?” Stella sighed and Jake grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I dumped her.”

Stella raised her eyebrows “Well speaking from experience, I can kinda see why she might be a little upset.”

Jake looked at her for a moment, deciding whether or not to respond to her little dig but in the end he didn’t get chance as the elevator stopped and opened on their floor. Jake picked up his bags and followed her across to her apartment. She set the bags she was carrying down, grabbed her key and the door swung open. Jake stepped in after her, nudging the door shut with his foot and instantly that familiar smell of vanilla, fresh laundry and the light tones of her perfume hit his senses. He hadn’t been in here for months. They made their way through to the little kitchen and she flipped on the lights, Jake dropping the bags onto the side.

“So are you ok about the pair of you being over or…” Stella turned to face him and Jake wrinkled his nose.

“Well, I wasn’t that into her. I mean, she was just…” he stopped and shrugged a little “I’m all right, yeah.”

Stella snorted, shaking her head “Wow.”

“Had to be honest with her.”

At that Stella couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her throat “That’s a first”

“Wow, that’s the second dig in the last 2 minutes.” Jake arched an eyebrow and Stella inwardly cursed herself. He’d done nothing to deserve either of the shots she’d taken, especially after he was being nothing but helpful

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Was it?” he asked.

There was a moment’s pause before they both spoke at the same time.

“Look, Jake, I don’t wanna…”

“I miss you Stel…you know, us hanging out.

The last bit of Jake’s sentence was added hastily and Stella took a deep breath.

“You’ve been a jerk to me recently, JJ”

“I know I fucked it all up.” He continued pleading his case “But I love you Stel, as friends, ya know?”

She studied him for a moment, and Jake held his breath before her eyes softened, the way they always did when she was coming round, and he exhaled slowly.

“Guess I miss you too.” She said quietly.

At her words Jake’s face split into a grin. “You guess or…”

“Don’t push it.”

He laughed, and on a roll he decided to see how far he could edge his luck. “I don’t suppose you’re free tonight, maybe grab a pizza, I got beer.”

Stella felt her face fall “Sorry JJ, Ev’s coming over.” and as she spoke she realised she actually was sorry. For a split second she considered calling Ev and cancelling, which in itself confused her. Why was she even thinking that? And then she realised, it was because she missed Jake. Despite everything, they’d been through too much for her not to care for him.

Jake nodded, “Okay, well, maybe another night?”

Stella blinked, she’d been expecting some sarcastic quip about Evan but none had come, which surprised her a little. That said, she smiled and nodded “Yeah I’d like that.”

Jake nodded “Right, I’ll err…let you unpack all that then and see you later I guess.”

“Yeah, great. Oh, and thanks.” She smiled “For helping me.”

“Well, you know me, I’m not one to leave a damsel in distress.” He winked. “I’ll see myself out.”

He made his way out of the apartment, closing her door behind him, taking a deep breath as he headed over the landing. Despite the setback about the pizza and beer, he felt good. The air was clearer, it was good progress, easy easy catch a monkey and all that.

He fished in his pocket for his keys and just as he was opening his door he heard hers open behind him.

“Look, I got a little while.” Stella spoke “I was gonna bake some cookies, you wanna help?”

Jensen allowed himself a grin before he turned to face her “You miss me already?”

“Don’t push it asswipe.” She shot back and he laughed.

“Gonna make extra dough so I can eat it?”

She rolled her eyes “Yes, dur.”

“Ok, gimme ten to change and I’ll come over.”

“Use your key.” She nodded, before she pulled her head back in her apartment and shut the door.

Jensen gave a little fist pump of victory as he stepped inside his hallway, smirking to himself “Operation Petunia is a go…”

**** After a quick shower, Jensen changed into a pair of grey sweats, a plain navy blue t-shirt and headed over the hall in his socks. As instructed, he let himself in and walked through to the kitchen, the sound of the radio growing louder as he went. He stopped in the doorway and watched as Stella stood with her back to him, dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized white- slouchy vest top with a tighter cami underneath, rifling in a cupboard. He felt a sudden, nostalgic pang for the times she used to dress casually like that around their student quarters or back at home when they were slobbed in front of the TV at her Ma’s or his Parents. With a little breath, he coughed and she turned to face him, smiling before she nodded to the fridge.

“Make yourself useful and grab us a coupla’ beers will ya?”

He saluted her and she gave a snort as he headed to the fridge and pulled it open, giving a groan as he spotted the Sam Adams. Grabbing two, he popped the tops before he handed her one. She thanked him and continued pulling the ingredients she needed out of the cupboards, the pair of them falling into an easy, but still careful conversation. Stella cursed as she mumbled something about her digital scales running out of batteries and then retrieved the old faithful analogue ones.

“Why is it, when you need something, that’s always the time it’s gonna end up nor working?” she grumbled, setting the dial to zero carefully.

“One of life’s many mysteries Stel.” Jake said wisely as she began to measure the flour out. “Along with why cats always fall on their feet, snidey little bastards.”

Stella snorted, “Or why buttered bread always lands butter down when you drop it? Although I think there’s a scientific explanation to that.”

“There is.” Jake nodded, taking a drink from his beer “When the bread falls out of your hand, it does so at an angle, see, by nature of it having slipped from its previous position, and it rotates.” Jensen twisted his hand in the air to demonstrate his point “Given that it’s normally dropped from a hand or a table, which is like two feet or so, there’s enough time for the toast to rotate about one-half of a turn and thus it lands upside down relative to its original position and oh my God, I’ve just had a brainwave!” he trailed off, grinning

Stella looked at him, her mouth dropping open “What, hang on, back up!”

“No, listen. I just said a cat always lands on its feet right?”

Yeah.” Stella looked at him.

“And you said that bread with butter always falls butter side down?”

Stella’s eyes squinted in confusion. “Jake, what the fuck are you…”

“Just hear me out.” he looked at her as he placed his beer bottle on the side behind him. “If…” both his hands flew up, pointers extended, the bottom of his t-shirt riding up slightly as he did so “If you fastened bread with butter to a cat’s back, then the Cat will keep turning and never fall on the ground.”

Stella blinked and simply looked at him, the way she always did when he was being utterly ridiculous.

“And then, if I attached the bread cat to a generator…” he grinned and held his hands out by his sides, palms open facing upwards “Infinite energy.”

There was a pause before Stella bust out laughing.

“That is the dumbest thing I ever heard!” she shook her head “And that’s saying something coming from you!”

“You won’t be laughing when I’m a millionaire.” Jensen said sagely. “Bread Cat Power Pack, copyright Jacob Calvin Jensen.”

“The only way you’ll ever become a millionaire is if they give you a dollar every time someone laughs at your stupid, shit ideas.” She shook her head, her hands falling to her hips.

“Laugh all you want Stelly, but I’m planning on buying a yellow hummer with the profits.”

Stella paused. That was the first time he’d called her Stelly in…well, she couldn’t actually remember. But it felt nice. This whole scenario felt nice in fact, the pair of them, just hanging out. Just like old times, before it all went to shit.

She smiled “What is it with you and hummers?”

“I just like them.”

“They’re vile, JJ.”

“No, they aren’t. They’re classy.” He picked his beer back up.

“Classy.” Stella snorted and Jake pointed his bottle towards her.

“You never could appreciate the finer things in life.” he sighed dramatically.

“Considering I appreciated you for years that’s a dumbass thing to say.” she arched an eyebrow at him

“Aww you sayin’ I’m a finer thing, Stel?” he teased and she rolled her eyes, ignoring him.

“Why yellow?”

“Why not?” he popped a shoulder at her question before he grinned “It matches my sunny disposition.”

At that Stella gave another snort “God, Jake!”

Jensen simply grinned back and Stella watched him for a second, noticing how relaxed he seemed. Every time she’d seen him over the past month or so he’d been tense. But today, gone was the unusual sulky demeanour he’d embodied recently and he wasn’t snapping or being mean. He was simply being Jake. The Jake she adored.

“Hey, Stel?” Jake asked, dragging her from her thoughts. “Reckon we can make these cookies in the shape of Hummers?”

“Do you have a Hummer shaped cookie cutter?” she asked, turning her attention back to the job in hand, tossing the ingredients into the mixing bowl.

“No.” Jensen wrinkled his nose “Why would I have one of those?”

“Then that’s your answer.”

“Buzz kill.” He muttered, fighting to keep the smirk of his face as he knew exactly what effect those words would have on her. She hated it when he insinuated she was no fun.

“Buzz kill?” she turned to look at him.

“Yup.”

“Fuck you.” She retorted, and Jake gave a splutter as a handful of flour hit him straight in the face, going right up his nostrils and into his mouth.

He blinked, looked at Stella before he shook his head "Oh, Stel, it's on..." he smirked before he moved towards her and she gave a shriek as he easily manhandled her out of the way and grabbed the flour she was trying to move out of his reach. The kitchen filled with yells and laughter as handful after handful went flying around into faces, hair, just about any visible body part and suddenly they were jerked from their little flour war when a clearing of a throat could be heard. Both of them turned to see Evan standing in the kitchen door, a bouquet of bright flowers in one hand and a bottle of something in the other.

"How the fuck did you get in?” Jensen blurted out before he could stop himself and Stella punched him on the arm “Ow, Stell, shit!”

“Don’t be rude.” She glared at him.

“For your information,” Evan stated as he walked into the kitchen “, not that it’s any of your business, but Stel gave me the spare key.”

“Huh.” Jake looked at him before he grinned “I got one of those too.”

Evan looked at him, his eyes squinted slightly “Good for you.”

“Yeah, it is!” Jake continued, the grin still stood on his face.

The two men remained staring at one another, Jake covered head to toe in flour as Stella gave a little groan but before she could tell the pair of them to behave, Evan spoke.

“What’s all this mess?” he asked, nodding to the flour all over the room.

“Oh, we had a mission where we seized over Forty kilos of cocaine.” Jake spoke, his voice deadly serious “I thought I'd bring it round for a good time.”

At that point Stella gave a snort of laughter, nudging Jake hard on the arm, the pair of them giggling again before she spotted the look on Evan’s face. His features were completely serious and there was a flash of anger in his eyes. So she coughed and shook her head.

“I was trying to bake some cookies and Jakey was helping me, sort of.” She shrugged “He’s more of a pain in the ass than a help, mind.”

She didn’t miss the way Evan cringed when she called Jensen ‘Jakey’ but before she could say anything Jensen grumbled.

“Rude.”

“Well you are. You're a monumental pain in the ass” Stella rolled her eyes.

“Yeah but you love me Stel” Jake winked and Stella arched an eyebrow, folding her arms in cloud of flour.

“Jury's out”

“You know…” Evan spoke, his tone sarcastic as he set the bottle he was carrying on the kitchen side “..if i'm interrupting something I can leave.”

“Easy man! But yeah-“ Jensen flashed his trademark grin “You just interrupted us.”

Stella slapped him round the back of the head. “No, you didn’t.”

“Stop hitting me!” Jensen rubbed the place where her palm had connected.

“Well stop being a jerk!”

He turned to face her and sarcastic quip he had prepared died as he saw that she was no longer grinning at him.

“Shouldn’t you go and get cleaned?” Evan spoke and Jake looked at him, wrinkling his nose.

“I kinda like being dirty.”

Stella groaned again as she wiped her face and hands free from flour and then nodded to the bouquet Evan had in his hands “Are they for me?”

“No, I bought them for Jensen.” He dead panned with a roll of his eyes, before his handsome face split into a grin. “Course they're for you baby.”

Jensen watched as Stella smiled broadly and he took in the bunch of brightly coloured gerberas and roses, frowning a little. And then, once more he just couldn’t help but stir the pot at little bit more.

“Oh man. She hasn’t told you about her favourites, hasn’t she?” he nodded to the flowers. Evan frowned and Stella wheeled round to glare at Jake.

“Seriously Jake, shut up.”

“You should have brought her petunias.” Jensen sighed, his hands on his hips as she shook his head with the manner of a father disappointed at his child.

“Yeah, see you're talking but all I'm hearing is noise.” Evan rolled his eyes as Stella reached for the bouquet.

“I’ll put them in a vase. Thanks baby, they’re gorgeous” she beamed at him.

Jake couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the smug look on Evan’s face, most likely cos she just called him baby in front of him. But seriously, what kind of dick boyfriend doesn’t know what his girl’s favourite flowers are?

Evan then picked up the bottle he'd set on the side with a flourish and spun it so the label was facing Stella "I also saw this at one of the stalls at the market and it made me think of you."

Stella looked at him, not understanding for a moment, before she read the label and her eyes opened wide.

“Pumpkin spiced gin…oh my god!” she laughed, taking it from him.

Evan grinned “Now you can make alcoholic lattes.”

“Or just drink it neat over ice.” She smiled at him “I bet this tastes amazing.”

At that Evan smirked and when he spoke again his voice dropped an octave “Probably not as good as you but we’ll give it a go.”

At that Stella flushed and Jake gave an audible groan and then immediately wished he hadn’t as he’d given the dickhead everything he wanted. Evan turned to him with a maddeningly smug look on his face “Still here Jensen? Thought you were going.”

“You wish.” Jake mumbled, but thankfully neither of them heard him as Stella was studying the bottle label to try and hide her embarrassment. He took a deep breath, he knew he had to be careful not to make Stella pissed at him again. So, in a rare self-aware moment, he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder “Well as riveting as chatting with you is, Ev, you're right. I got stuff to do, you know, places to go, people to see..."

“Yeah, sure you do.” Evan replied flippantly “Tell Britney I said hi.”

“Ev, don’t.” Stella shook her head and Evan frowned, turning to her.

“What, I’m not…”

“It’s ok Stelly, he didn't know.” Jensen hid the little smile that was threatening to creep onto his lips at the flinch Evan had made when he used Stella’s old nickname and he gave a shrug. “We broke up.”

“You broke up?” Evan repeated, his face blank. “I’m sorry man.”

“Don’t be.” Jake waved a hand. “Actually it was me who broke it off.”

“Well, still, you must be a little bit...upset, I suppose?”

“Nope.” Jake shook his head “What's got 2 thumbs and is free, single and ready to mingle?” he jerked his thumbs at himself. “This guy"

With that he pat Evan on his shoulder “See ya later.” and he made his way out of Stella’s apartment, closing door behind him. Once it was shoot he paused and took a deep breath.

Fuck that guy.

Up until him turning up they’d been having a great time, simply messing around in the kitchen like they used to. Mind you, it had been a good afternoon, the pair of them were back on even terms, so all in all…yeah, Jensen felt buoyed. With a little spring in his step he headed over the hall back to his apartment and straight to the fridge for a beer. As he popped the lid his phone pinged with a message from Pooch. He, Cougs and Roque were heading out for a few beers and Jake’s presence was apparently “not required but welcome.” Jensen smiled, he was in a good mood so, yeah, drinks!

He showered again to get rid of the flour, changed into a pair of jeans and a casual black sweater before he shrugged on his warm SuperDry coat and headed back out. As he passed Stella’s door on the way to the elevator he could hear her raised voice and instantly he felt his skin prickle. His Jakey Sense as Stella had jokingly dubbed it was tingling. He paused and moved closed to the doors and could hear her and Evan were arguing.

He shouldn’t listen, he knew that, but they were being so loud it was impossible not to. Plus, when all’s said and done he was also a nosey bastard.

“For fucks sake, Ev! You've been fine for the last twenty minutes, why are you brining this up now?”

“All I said was I wish you'd told me about the flowers! I've bought you bouquets before and you never mentioned petunias.”

Jake smirked a little as Stella groaned.

“It’s really not that big a deal!”

“Well apparently it is according to Jensen!” Evan shot back.

“So that's what this is about. It isn't the flowers at all is it? It's Jake” Stella responded, her voice agitated and Jake could completely picture her stood there, arms folded, glaring up at him. He’d seen it often enough himself.

“And what if it is?” Evan’s voice was equally as loud.

“Oh for fucks sake...he's my friend, my best friend.”

“And your EX, Stella!”

“Carry on this way and you will be as well!” Stella shot back and at that Jake felt his smirk grow even wider.  

“Way to go Stel…” he mumbled to himself.

“What do you mean?” Evan’s voice was louder still “You hang out with your ex and I’m the problem?”

“No, the problem is you being all pissy about something that isn't really a big issue. Jake and I...” Stella sighed, “We have history, a lot of history. Even before we dated we were friends and it's been so shit recently when we haven't been talking and...” her voice was gathering in speed and Jensen could tell she was starting to get upset. He had heard it and seen it a thousand times before.

“And why do you think that is, Stel?” Evan’s voice was now quiet, but the tone was cold and threatening, and Jensen took a deep breath. He didn’t like the way this was going. “Come on, you can’t be that oblivious.” Stella didn’t reply, and Evan continued “See, you know I'm right. You were on bad terms because he was a jealous asshole, you said it yourself with the way he behaved when we had our first date in the coffee shop. And everyone knows he was only dating that Britney bint to try and piss you off. Even your own sister said that.”

Jensen could feel himself getting hot with anger at the way the bastard was using Rey against Stella, despite the fact Evan was completely right. As much as Jensen had denied it at the time, that was totally why he ended up with Brit. Call it a rebound, a stubborn attempt to prove to himself he didn’t need Stella, whatever. The core of it was always down to her.

“Huh, he aint actually as stupid as he looks.” Jensen muttered to himself.

“He wasn’t jealous.” Stella responded, her voice quiet “How could he be when he dumped me? Twice.”

At that Jensen bowed her head, the hurt in her voice was evident.

“Who knows what goes through his head or why he did that, I've no idea, but if you think he's over you then you're mistaken. And I don’t like it, Stella, not one bit.” Evan took a deep breath “I think you should stay away from him.”

Jensen felt his mouth drop open a little and he blinked, had he seriously just told her that? He waited with baited breath for Stella’s reply, which came a second or so later, in a tone he knew only too well, she’d had enough.

“You know what, I’m not in the mood for going out tonight.”

“Okay, well, let’s stay in then.” Evan’s tone suddenly flipped to the doting boyfriend again and Jensen frowned once more. This guy was unreal. “I can cook us something”

“Dumb bastard, take the hint.” Jensen grumbled as Stella audibly sighed. He could picture her, running her hand through her hair, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes.

“I need to get cleaned up and then sort out this mess.” She replied “I think it’s better if you go home.”

“Seriously?” Evan spoke with disbelief “You’re actually telling me to go?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause “Fine.” Evan responded “I’ll leave you to it. You and Jensen can finish whatever it was you were doing.”

“We were making cookies.”

“Whatever, Stella. If you’re more interested in defending him than having dinner with me then, that’s you’re call.”

And then Jensen realised he needed to disappear before Evan came out and found him. He hastily made his way back to his apartment, and had just gotten inside when Stella’s door was wrenched open. So as not to attract attention to himself with the sound of the lock clicking, Jensen didn’t quite close his fully and stayed waiting for Evan to disappear. To Jensen’s horror he paused, looking directly at his door, before he looked back at Stella’s and then made his way to the elevator. After what seemed like an age it arrived and he stepped into it, the door pinging shut behind him.

Jensen felt bad, he really did. He hadn’t wanted Stella to be upset. But more over he felt uneasy. The way Evan had spoken to her, and directed the blame straight back onto her and then told her to stay away from him was  manipulative, controlling almost.

And he didn’t like it one bit.

****

“Jensen, what’s with you man?” Roque asked, placing his empty bottle on the table. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-annoying tonight.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He felt Pooch’s eyes on him and purposely ignored him, looking around the bar at anything and everything. His eyes fell momentarily on a table of girls some four or so down from theirs one of them bore a fleeting resemblance to Stella actually and he hastily looked away, glancing down at his beer. He necked the rest and set the empty bottle down.

“My round.” Pooch nodded as he stood up, his hand falling onto Jensen’s shoulder “Give me a hand man?”

“Sure.” Jake stood up and followed him to the bar, passing the table of girls as they went.

“The brunette is giving you the eye.” Pooch nudged him. Jensen looked at him.

“What?”

“Okay, out with it.” Pooch demanded as they reached the bar “What’s wrong Jensen, and don’t tell me everything is fine coz I know you, and you’re not being you. You’ve been positively pleasant all evening and now when some chick is giving you the eye you don’t even notice?”

Jensen sighed, “I’m just a bit worried about Stel, man”

“Arty?” Pooch frowned, “What’s wrong with her? Is she ok? I though Evan was coming over to hers tonight?”

“He did. They had an argument, he left.” Jensen shrugged.

“They had an argum-wait? How do you know? Did she tell you? Coz I thought you weren’t on particularly good terms.”

“We sorted stuff out.” Jensen shook his head

“You were listening weren’t you?” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“That’s not the point.” Jensen shook his head and Pooch groaned having been given all the confirmation he needed “The point is what he said. And how he said it. He was angry, Pooch.”

“Everyone gets angry when they argue.”

“Yeah but he…I dunno, I don’t trust him.”

“Oh come on Jensen. Stop it. Enough with that shit. Stel is with him and she’s happy, face it.”

“He told her that he thinks she should stay away from me.” Jensen looked at Pooch. “Does that not strike you as, well, controlling?”

Pooch looked at Jensen and could see on his face that he was genuinely concerned.

“Ok, start from the top.” Pooch instructed, so Jensen did, explaining and Pooch took a deep breath “So now you’re worried he could be manipulating her?”

“I'm worried he’s not everything he’s cracked up to be.” Jensen replied after a short pause “And that she could end up hurt. And I don’t mean merely emotionally.”

“Woah, man that’s…that’s a big leap.” Pooch looked at him, before he turned to the bar tender and ordered their round, before looking back at him. “From being a little narky and, ok, possibly maybe slightly overbearing to being a fuckin’ woman beater.”

“Maybe.” Jensen sighed, “But isn’t it always the one’s you don’t expect to do it that do?”

At that Pooch was forced to accept Jensen made a good point and he bit his lip, cocking his head to once side. “Ok, suppose you heard right and the guy’s dodgy so to speak. What you wanna do about it?”

“I suppose I could do some digging.” Jensen mused “See if I can find any of his old girlfriends out there, see what they have to say.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I like where this is going.” Pooch groaned.

Jensen sighed, “I honestly have no idea Pooch. My gut was to tell Stella that I was concerned but knowing her she'll just accuse me of being a dick and it would just make it look like he was right about me.”

“Which he is.” Pooch snorted “You are jealous.”

“Yeah, well that's maybe but I'm being serious here Pooch. I don't trust the guy, and if she ends up hurt when I could have done something to stop it I'll never forgive myself.”

Pooch bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at Jensen, he could see the worry etched into every line on his friend’s face. With a loud sigh he shook his head, “Listen man, whatever you want to do I have your back. Wanna go all CSI on the guy? Then count me in. But do you and the rest of us for that matter a favour and admit to your feelings for her once and for all and do something about it or leave her be.”

Jensen snorted “You been talking to Clay, Pooch?”

“What? No.” Pooch handed over his card to pay for the round. “Why would you think that?”

“He just said something similar at New Years. That's all.” Jensen took a deep breath “This would never have happened if I hadn't been such an asshole.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Not helping Pooch.”

“Listen man, we don’t need to talk to one another to see you have strong feelings for her. We all know that and we all have been putting up with your stupid ass decisions.”

“Still not helping Pooch.”

“Ok Jensen.” Pooch shrugged, taking his card back off the man behind the bar with a thanks. “You could always try actually talking to him? You never know, he might be genuinely-“

“Are you nuts? The guy hates me!” Jensen practically exploded “And suppose I am right, which I may not be, I know, it happens occasionally.” He shrugged as Pooch rolled his eyes “Not only do I tip him off I’m onto him, he’ll rush to tell Stel as soon as I turn my back. Make it seem I’m harassing him.”

“So instead you wanna track his old girlfriend’s down and go poking into his past?”

Jake flashed his signature grin.

“Coz thats not harassing him. At all.” Pooch rolled his eyes.

“It’s not if he doesn’t know I’m harassing him.” Jake shrugged and Pooch let out an exasperated moan of a laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I already told you Jensen. Whatever you want man. Just...oh, I dunno, try not to fuck it up with your usual chaotic dumbassery.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Jensen shrugged as he picked up 2 of the bottles from the bar.

“Sure you don’t.”

******

Two more beers later and Jensen called it a night and headed home, he wasn’t in the mood all things considered. Kicking off his sneakers he plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote, flipping through the channels. But it was no good, he couldn’t concentrate. His mind was working overtime as he was trying to figure out what exactly he was going to do. It was frustrating, because normally he’d just talk to Stella, they never had secrets but this was completely out of the question, and that frustrated the fuck out of him.

His rambling thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. Frowning, because that meant that either someone had gotten into the building or it was a resident, he stood up and made his way over to the door. He pulled it open and gave a little blink as he saw Stella stood there in a large, oversized sweater, leggings and thick socks, her hair pulled on top of her head in a messy bun, a batch of cookies in her hands.

“Oh, hey Stel.” He said, surprise evident in his voice “Come on in.”

She smiled as she stepped into his flat. “I thought you’d be out all night because Pooch said you were all out for drinks this evening. But I heard you come in so I came to bring you some cookies. After all you helped me with them, well, sort of.”

“Thanks Sel.” He smiled, genuinely as he took them from her “You want a drink or…”

“No, I’m good thanks.”

“Ok, well, go through, be with you in a second. I’ll just put these bad boys away.”

She nodded and turned, heading towards the lounge as Jensen made his way quickly into the kitchen and deposited the cookies in the tin, grabbing one as he did so. God they tasted just as good as they always did. He grabbed the empty container and headed into the lounge where Stella was sat on the couch and she smiled as he handed it to her.

“You ok?” he asked and she looked at him, nodding but Jensen could tell she wasn’t so he decided to call her out, see if she’d open up to him.

“You know, I've known you too long. You can't lie to me.”

She sighed.

“What’s bothering you, Stel?” he pressed as he sat next to her keeping a respectful distance of one seat cushion between them.

“Me and Ev, we err...had an argument before. Kind of a big one”

“How big?” Jensen asked, all the time knowing he had to play it cool or she would know he overheard.

“I… “ she fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater a little before she snorted “I sent him home big”

“Can I ask what you argued about? I mean if you sent him home it must have been pretty serious.”

Stella looked at him, clearly debating whether or not to tell him and then she sighed “He wanted to go out, I didn't. It spiralled from there.”

Jake took a deep breath as Stella looked at him having just told him a barefaced lie. What killed him the most was he knew she was doing it to spare his feelings, and he didn’t think he’d ever wanted to kiss her more. But he couldn’t, so instead he gave her a small nod and what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.

“Look, I'm sorry if any of it was my fault. And I'm sure you'll sort it out.”

“Yeah, I guess. In any case thanks for listening.”

Jake laughed “That it, we done?”

“Not much else to tell you. We fought, and maybe I overreacted to something he said. It’s just...” she studied his face and Jensen got the impression she was searching for some indication Evan was right about him being jealous. He fought so hard not to give her any, and in the end she shrugged “It doesn’t matter, it’s no big deal.”

“Big enough to make you upset though.”

“Well, it’s the first argument we’ve had.”

“Well you can drown your sorrows in pumpkin flavoured gin.” Jensen sniffed and at that she grimaced.

“Between you and me, I tried it before. It’s fucking awful.”

Jake laughed, “Then I guess Evan was right and you do taste better.”

“Jake!” Stella scoffed, slapping his arm.

“What? It was a compliment!”

“You're gross”

“Yeah but…”he smirked “…made you smile”

“Yeah, you do.” She looked at him, “I mean did. You know, just then…”

“I know.”

Stella gave him another soft smile “Thanks again, I should…” she gestured to the door with her head and Jake nodded.

“Walk you home?”

“I live across the hall.” She scoffed as she stood up

“Yeah but…” Jensen breathed in through his teeth as he also rose from his seat “Some dodgy people in this building Stel”

“Yeah, you're one of em.”

“Hey, you could be attacked by Mrs. Hunter’s Cat. You know it went for my ankle yesterday?” He looked at her seriously. “Like I said, snide little bastards. Cats are not to be trusted.”

“Alright then badass, you better see me safe across the hall.” She chuckled.

Jake followed her to the door where she turned and he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a soft hug. Pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head he stepped back and looked at her.

“You know where I am if you need me, don’t you?”

She nodded “Thanks. Night Jakey.”

“Night Stel.”

He watched her cross the hall, and when she walked inside she gave him a last smile before she shut the door.

Jensen exhaled loudly, before he turned and headed back into his own apartment, the door clicking behind him.

*****

Jensen didn’t sleep particularly well that night. His worries and concerns about Stella kept running through his mind and at six am he gave up, hauling himself out of bed for a run. On his way back he stopped by the bakery on the corner of the street to grab himself a croissant and a coffee and headed back to the condo, munching his breakfast. As he walked across the parking lot he spotted Evan’s car was parked outside the main door, the man himself sat inside, waiting.

And then all logic flew from Jensen’s mind. Fuck treading softly.

He stalked over and round to the passenger side, yanking it open and sinking into the seat besides Evan as the man looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

“S’up Agent E.” he smiled at him, taking another bite of his croissant. “You waiting for Stel?”

“Why else would I be here?”

Jensen shrugged “Maybe you like parking lots.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m waiting for Stella.”

“Why not just use your spare key?” Jensen asked, taking a loud slurp of his coffee before he looked at Evan. “Wait, more to the point, why are you not up there? Did you not stay?” The nerve in Evan’s jaw twitched and Jensen grinned. “You guys aint had a fight have you?” When the agent didn’t reply Jake took a bite of his croissant. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“What do you want, Jensen?” Evan looked at him, his features dark and Jake knew the time for joking was done. He took a deep breath and shrugged.

“Honestly? For you to fuck off.”

“Oh I bet you do.” Evan narrowed his eyes, his voice low and Jensen snorted.

“Not much of a bet, I just admitted it but whatever.”

“Well unlucky for you I’m not going anywhere.”

“For now.” Jensen shrugged “She’ll see through you at some point.”

“Face it Jensen, you fucked up.” Evan shook his head “Now I’m warning you, stay away from her, and me, and leave us alone.”

Jensen took a deep breath. “Ok, I was trying to be polite but I’ll get straight to the point.”

“Please do.” Evan’s voice was loaded with sarcasm.

“I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you.” Jensen stated and Evan gave a huge guffaw of laughter, Jensen merely shook his head “Yeah, you might laugh but I swear to God you hurt her and I will fucking kill you slowly and painfully.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Evan asked.

“Yes.” Jensen said simply “You forget, I’m a lethal trained killing machine.” He shrugged “And then there’s Clay, and Roque, and Pooch and Cougs…you kick one of us, we all shout ouch, you get my drift.”

He saw a flicker of something that might have been concern on Evan’s faced but no sooner had he spotted it, it was gone and the Agent simply swallowed and fixed Jensen with a glare.

“What makes you so sure I’m going to hurt her?”

“Because when I mentioned it before, instead of protesting that you wouldn’t, you simply turned it back to being about you.” Jensen shrugged “Now if someone had said that to me, I’d be doing everything I could to try and convince them they were wrong.”

“I don’t have to justify myself to you.” Evan snorted, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t” Jake shrugged “But you will answer to me if you do hurt her, like I said, I’m watching you shithead.”

“You know, when Stella hears you’ve been threatening me…”

“We both know you’re not going to tell her.” Jake shook his head “I mean you’ve already argued once. And I’d lay odds on that being about me. So, are you really gonna push it again when you’re hanging on by a thread? Don’t think so buddy.”

He took another obnoxiously loud slurp of his coffee and there was a pause before Evan exploded. “Ok, I’ve had enough of this, get out of my fucking car!”

“Gladly.” Jensen nodded, scrunching up the wrapper his croissant had been in. He tossed it into the foot-well and looked at it for a second before he shrugged “This car is full of garbage anyway.” And with that he climbed out headed inside, not bothering to look back.

**** Chapter 6

[twokinkybeans]

Hello! I absolutely love all of your stories! I have a request, can you do a Starker story where Peter and his class go on a field trip to stark tower? I don’t really mind what happens there I just really want to see the ship. If you can thanks so much 💗

CHAPTER 2: BACKPACK

(Read chapter 1: Science Rules on Tumblr / AO3)

Summary: Peter is 14. Recently got his Spider powers and is no longer friends with Flash. Ned is in the picture. They go on a high school excursion and Peter is set on finding Tony to ask if he can join the Avengers. Side note: Tony is not romantically/sexually interested in Peter until chapter 3, when they are in an established relationship. Warnings: Angst. They talk about death whilst not actually mentioning it. Flash is an absolute asshole as always.

Rating: Mature (just to be sure for later on lol).

I actually had this one finished last Sunday but never got around to posting it. It isn’t edited at all, so I hope you enjoy! :P -Lien

“Mister Thompson, if you don’t take a seat this instant, it’ll be detention for you,” Mister Harrington threatens. Flash immediately presses his ass back into his seat and grins at Peter from a distance. They might resent each other now, but their infinite common interest in science, technology and Tony Stark has never faded. They don’t really talk to each other anymore and Peter is not expecting their broken friendship to ever be mended. Not with how Flash treats him these days, at least. The first cracks in their friendship appeared during their last visit to Stark Industries, when Flash became jealous of Peter for spending time with Tony. Flash’s behavior completely changed with his growing popularity at Midtown High. With regards to friendships, he ended up choosing quantity over quality. This resulted in him attempting to gain the schoolkids’ favors by bullying. Since Peter used to be his friend, he became an easy target. Peter might miss what they once had, but at least he managed to trade his friendship with Flash for an even better one. Ned Leeds enabled his geeky side and ever since the boy had helped Peter up after Flash had pushed him to the floor the first time, they became inseparable. Obviously, the school wanted to go to Avengers Tower to get them interested in pursuing careers in science and technology. Something both Ned and Peter already kind of were. As excited as everyone was to get a look inside the labs and workshops, there is a significantly higher interest in getting a glimpse of not just Tony Stark, but of any of the Avengers, now that Stark Tower has been rebirthed as Avengers Tower. However, there was another occupation that Peter also took interest in now that he had gained his Spider powers a little over half a year ago. Becoming an Avenger was his number one career dream. He’d no longer just help the little guy. He’d be able to help everyone. There’s nothing Peter wanted more than to run into Tony again like he did when they had the class trip in middle school. Maybe Peter could train under him? Learn from him? Tony would be the Master to his Padawan. He’d be an Avenger. All he needed right now was the courage to actually ask. Well, he’d have to find Tony- or any Avenger for that matter- first. … The second they set foot in the building, Peter grabs his bag and takes out the Science Rules cap that he wore as a child. He didn’t expect Tony to actually recognize him after all these years, but at least he has one point of reference he could fall back on. Security reminds him he’s not allowed to wear the cap inside, so he opts to attach it to his belt and have it hang from his hip. Flash makes an off-handed comment about it, but Peter ignores him. It still baffles Peter that Flash seems to feel no remorse for joking about the cap that he knows was Peter’s father’s. After the first two hours of the excursion Peter already starts losing hope. Most locations they go to are quite secluded and it’s not easy to get away from the security’s watchful eyes. They had to put their bags in a locker room earlier, so save for his web shooters, Peter couldn’t show Tony the suit he'd so proudly put together. If he would ever run into him. After hour three they’re finally allowed to go into the labs and actually do some tests themselves. Most of the materials they work with are quite harmless. The only thing that really could hurt them if they’re not careful is the bottle of slightly diluted bleach on their desks. At least all of the students want to make a good impression on Stark’s scientists, so they’re all on their best behavior. Everyone, but… “Whoopsies,” Flash deadpans next to Peter. The teen looks up surprised from his own workbench to see Flash, who is stationed next to him, purposefully elbow the bleach bottle. The opening up top is small, but some of the liquid still splashes out of it. Onto Peter’s hip. Peter stares at the cap that now has bleach splattered all over it and then back up at Flash who grins. “Guess it really is a one of a kind now.” Peter runs away from his spot to one of the security guards. He doesn’t trust himself to not start crying if he actually takes time to ask his question properly so all he can blurt out is: “Toilet?” The guard sees Peter’s panic and lets him out. “Uh, there’s one on the left right there.” “Th-thank-“ Water. Peter needs water right now. Needs to wash it out, even though the fabric is already lightening. Who knows, maybe he could wash it out with the tears that are forming in the corners of his eyes. He rushes and throws open the door, immediately starting the stream of water and shoving the cap under it. The further he can dilute the bleach, the better. His left hand clutches the little tag on the inside in an attempt to keep anything from spilling into it and messing up his father’s handwriting. A soft sob escapes his throat, but he’s startled to hear a urinal flush in one of the stalls. He sniffs and attempts to wipe away the tears with the elbow of his shirt. When he hears the door unlock he looks down in a half-assed attempt to focus on cleaning the cap. He bites on the inside of his cheek and clenches his jaw, feeling the presence of the man from the stall emerge. The man casually washes his hands next to Peter but his movement suddenly halts. “Peter?” Peter could recognize that voice in his sleep. His heart beats loudly in his chest and the world is spinning. He blinks before whipping his head up to lock eyes with Tony Stark. “Jeez, you’ve grown.” The man’s brows curl together at the look on Peter’s face. The boy breaks eye contact and looks forward into the mirror, only to realize his cheeks are red and his eyes are puffed. “What the hell happened?” There’s a moment of silence. Peter barely realizes that Tony recognized him. Knows him, still. Is concerned for him. Peter’s mouth opens and closes and he takes a breath before looking back down at the cap and continuing to attempt to wash out the bleach. “Bleach,” he mumbles. “Didn’t take you to be that clumsy.” “Wasn’t wearing it.” “Still.” Peter scrubs more aggressively now, tears threatening to spill again. He’s making a fool of himself and he wishes he could just disappear. “Hey,” Tony says quietly. “Hey-“ Peter’s eyes widen at a hand suddenly holding onto his lower arm. Peter’s frozen where he stands and can only watch defeated as Tony turns off the tap. Only now he feels how wet his cheeks are. When did he start crying again? “Damage’s already been done.” Tony takes the cap out of Peter’s hands and studies the lightened splotches on the front. “Don’t you think this looks cool?” He tries. “Don’t want it to look cool.” “I’m sure your dad won’t-“ Tony stops himself, knowing exactly why he shouldn’t finish his thought. He sucks at his teeth and looks away. “Sorry, how’s your mom?” Peter nearly laughs at Tony’s inability to read the room. “She was with him.” Mortified at his previous decision on how to continue the conversation, Tony takes a step back. Peter looks down at his wet hands and adds: “It’s okay.” “To be honest, no, not really. Are you taken care of?” “My aunt.” “Didn’t Richard have a brother?” Peter looks up again and grimaces, feeling like every word falling from Tony’s lips is a stab to the heart. “Fuck, I’m-“ “It’s okay.” “It’s not.” Tony shakes his head and moves closer to Peter again. “I’m sorry, kid.” The man scoffs. “I used to be better at this… Well, no actually, that’s a lie.” Peter swallows as the two just stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, neither of them sure where to go with this. The boy then clears his throat and moves to stand up straight. “I am, eh… Here on another excursion.” “High school this time, I presume? Or are you in uni already?” “Parents wanted me to have a somewhat normal childhood, so they didn’t want me to get ahead that far. My aunt honors that wish.” Peter now properly washes his hands, since his hands had started to tingle from the bleach. “Aren’t you bored out of your mind, then?” Peter raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “Maybe.” Tony’s wrist beeps and he takes a glance at his watch, sighing exasperated. He heads for the door and hands Peter the cap back on his trek. “Pete, I’m sorry, I gotta go. Give reception a call-“ No, is all Peter can think. Before he can form a rational though, he reaches out and webs Tony’s hand to the door handle, locking both of them in the bathroom. Tony stares down at the substance keeping the door shut and his hand attached to it. “What the-“ “I want to join the Avengers.” Peter is ready to hit himself in the head. That question was way too direct and now he’s really done it. Tony laughs surprised. “Oh, bother. You’re Spider-Guy?” Peter’s eyes widen. The man hadn’t said no. “Spider-Man.” “Right.” “Wait, aren’t you fourteen?” Tony asks confused. Peter’s aware his physique as Spider-Man is wildly different from what he appears as in daily life. “And a half.” “Kid, if that really is you, you need to stop before you get in over your head, okay?” Tony wants to step towards him, but is held back by the webbing. “You think I’m lying?” Peter crosses his arms offended. “Well, no, but-“ The billionaire shakes his head at the substance and scoffs. “You’re putting yourself in danger when you shouldn’t.” “I’m not stopping.” “What- are you an adrenaline junkie? Please, don’t tell me you’re doing this because of me. It’s not worth it, I promise you.” Peter stares at the wet cap in his hands. “Not everything’s about you.” He wishes he swallowed those words, but Tony seemed to be self- aware enough, taking the comment somewhat gracefully. “Then what is it about?” “Half a year ago I got these… Powers.” Peter raises his hands up to look at them and sighs. “I’m stronger and faster… And I- well…” He trails off and pulls his face together in a frown. “When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen? They happen because of you.” “As inspiring as that is, you shouldn’t be doing any of the stuff I’ve seen in those videos.” Tony’s pulls at his wrist and swears silently. “Jesus, what is this made of?” “You… Watched the videos?” “Yeah, kid, I did, now please get this stuff off me?” “Right! It usually dissolves after two to three hours, but I have a dissolver in…” Peter falls silent as he realizes that what he needs is locked away by security. “Kid,” Tony threatens. “My backpack.”

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Sixteen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: A very special shoutout to @anonymouscosmos for all of their encouragement and support! You are a god among insects. I’d also like to thank the discord chat for enduring my nonsense, as ever. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore and detailed descriptions of previous abuse. Stay safe!]

Her head had been blown open, or at least it felt that way. The explosion was so close to her face that her helmet had just peeled off like it was made out of shrapnel-laden papier-mâché.

  Sergeant Shaun 'Lucky' Cathan was flat on his back hardly a foot away from her, pinned under the weight of the debris that was slowly crushing his armor. 

  She couldn't move. Her arms and legs wouldn't respond. That blow to the head had been nearly fatal. She was trapped on her stomach, inches from him.

  "Backhand-" Cathan choked, his voice wet. His gauntlet fumbled for her own, large metal fingers gripping her hand. "End of the line for me, eh Handy?"

  She gurgled something, trying to talk. One eye still worked. Barely. It felt like it was full of glass every time she forced herself to blink. It was too dark to see much anyway, even if she squinted. Her head throbbed with the beat of her heart. 

  "Save--your strength, Vega." Cathan instructed. 

  She wasn't sure what strength he was even talking about. Her armor felt like it had collapsed down on her spine. "Sir-" Vega managed to say. "S'been an honor-"

  "Don't give me that-- shit , Vega." Cathan chuckled. "I was just another dog of war. You'll get out of this. Go back to that man of yours, have a few kids, live your life." He coughed, wheezing, "my time is up, Handy."

  "No, no I'm-" Backhand tried to pull him closer, tried to get upright. Pain jolted down her back and legs and she halted, trembling. "I c-can't leave you here, Sarge." She groaned, knowing deep down that it was futile but refusing to give up .

  Cathan's grip tightened briefly. "It's alright, Handy." Her CO murmured. "It's alright. Make sure Tabitha has me buried on American soil. Or chuck my ashes in the harbor, yeah? Piss off all those Cambridge fucks." He chuckled.

  Backhand nodded as best as she could, the tears stinging painfully against the flayed skin of her face. "I will. Promise."

  The rubble overhead creaked and groaned, dust falling down on top of them. "Won't be long now." Cathan mused faintly, "Not long at all…"

  …

  Danse struggled to sit up and roll Vega onto her back. His own injuries faded to the background of his mind as she laid unresponsive, blood slowly pooling in the dirt beneath her left side. Her mouth opened and closed in a spasm; her eyes had rolled back in her skull and her fingers twitched erratically. 

  Have to hold pressure. Stop the bleeding. Danse numbly pressed his shaking hands down on her side just below her ribs, his body suddenly awash in a cold sweat as he realized just how much blood she was losing. He could almost hear Haylen rambling about the arteries, internal bleeding, penetrating damage, Worwick and Brach and Dawes and Keane and Danse felt like he was going to be sick. 

  "H... Haylen! " He yelled desperately. It was the only thing he could think to do.

  Then, against all odds, startling the everliving daylights out of him, Vega sat up . " Oh , you fuckin' asshole! " She hollered at Maxson around Danse's body while the paladin scrambled to attempt to stem the flow of fresh blood that her motion sent spurting out. "You really fuckin' shot me?! You're the worst kind of dick! " 

  Danse was flabbergasted. Her state was clearly compromised, how was she even conscious-

  "Fuck!" Vega growled in pain, dropping her forehead to rest on Danse's chest. "Oh fuck, fuck fuck you, you told me Danse was fuckin' dead, you liar! You expect me to just stand by and let you kill him in front of me?!" She continued to rant at Maxson, her voice muffled somewhat by Danse's shirt. "You dumb fuckin' prick, you stupid fuckin' dipshit motherfuck son of a cockass! This ain't exactly my first time gettin' fuckin' shot, you fuckin' fuck!"

  Danse realized that Arthur hadn't said a damn thing, possibly just as bewildered and awestruck by Elizabeth's impressive grasp of blue-streaked vernacular as he himself was.

  "Paladin Brandis, if I may…?" Haylen's voice was almost inaudible over Backhand's continued snarling. Danse jerked his attention away from Elizabeth, trying to blink the sweat out of his eyes in order to determine the field scribe's location.

  "Scribe, get the hell back behind the line!" Maxson barked. 

  Heavy footfalls heralded the arrival of Rhys and Haylen, the knight using his power armor like a shield to protect the scribe as if they were out in the field. Haylen was suddenly there , on her knees in the gravel next to Danse and Elizabeth. The paladin's eyes were now blinded with tears of gratitude and he huffed out a breath. "Danse, I'll get to you in a second." Haylen said softly, patting his hand. "Let me have her, okay?"

  "Haylen, I…" the large man didn't know what to say, his words failing him. He clutched pitifully at the scribe's hands, sure that he was gripping too tight.

  "I've got her, Danse. It's okay." Scribe Haylen soothed.

  "Yeah Danse, s'okay." Backhand said blearily, "s'Haylen, she's great. We love Haylen." Her head lolled back like it was too heavy for her to hold up. "Haylen made sure I got to eat and stuff."

  " What? " Danse rasped. 

  "The tactics Elder Maxson used during her incarceration…" Haylen trailed off, grimacing and then continuing in an undertone, "I made sure Rhys smuggled in something for her when he brought Brandis' meals."

  "Vega, Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry." Danse apologized needlessly, resting his forehead against Elizabeth's as he supported her neck. "I didn't think anything would happen to you. I...I didn't think in general, I guess." He admitted.

  Vega smiled . "Hey, I'd say whatever shit I went through was a pretty decent tradeoff for finding out that you didn't bite it after all." She slurred. "Missed you."

  " Christ , Vega." Danse muttered in dismay, fighting to untie her hands. Haylen took over after a moment, the scribe's fingers infinitely more steady than his own.

  "I need a Stim and a bloodpack!" Haylen announced after examining Vega's abdomen, looking up worriedly. 

  Not a soul moved. The only sound was the noise of Maxson wriggling in the grip of the armored knight who finally had him secured. "Listen to the scribe!" Brandis shouted to the mute crowd. "You have a sister bleeding in front of you and you would be still and silent? Where are the brave, compassionate soldiers I once knew? Knights! Scribes! Are you not Brotherhood?"

  Two aspirants finally elbowed their way through the throng, making a wide berth around Maxson. One of them bore a large canvas bag. "Good, good work. Drop it here." Haylen instructed, unrolling her field kit. "Can I get a scribe with steady hands and another knight for the opposite side?" She called. 

  A knight thundered past Maxson, the man throwing Danse of all people a haphazard salute before he took up his post at the other end of the group. Maxson practically seethed with rage. "Knight, how dare you salute that--that thing! "

  "That thing is still Paladin Danse of the Brotherhood of Steel, Maxson." Brandis growled. "He won the trial fair and square."

  "I will not allow it to live!" Maxson shrieked hysterically, struggling against the iron hold of the knight bear-hugging him. "I don't care how many of you I have to take down, Danse dies today! "

  "Maxson!" Brandis chided. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound insane! Think about what you're saying before you do something you'll regret!"

  "Not before he dies! "

  "Which would you rather be known as, Maxson? The abuser or the synth fucker?" Maxson froze at the sound of Danse's voice. The burly paladin shot the elder a bloodied sneer, his head tilted to the side at an almost arrogant angle. "After all, you got fucked by a synth." What the hell was he saying? Danse felt unhinged , words flippant, his tired limbs barely cooperating as he forced himself up on his knees and then to his feet. "You let a synth fuck you, Arthur." 

  " Abomination -"

  "You ordered a synth to fuck you." Danse reminded him, voice grating as his words came faster. "Demanded it to fuck you. Abused it. Threatened it with a certain death mission if it didn't. Then gave it that mission anyway." Danse rubbed at some crusted blood beneath his blackened right eye, grimacing. "Does it make it better if you didn't know I was a synth? Because then , you have to justify the reality that you molested a soldier in a compromised emotional state utilizing your privileged position of authority. Can you accept that , Maxson?"

  "You...Maxson, is this true?" Brandis asked incredulously.

  "That thing is clearly lying!" Maxson scoffed, looking around at the spellbound crowd like he expected everyone to agree with him. "Dammit, I am the elder -"

  "Did you hope that I would die out here, Arthur? Or did you assume that I would come crawling back to the Capital Wasteland after my inevitable failure in the Commonwealth?" Danse cut him off bitterly. "Did you think I would be easier to break once I had lost everything , Maxson?"

  "He always fights with Danse!" A tiny squire chimed in. Danse hadn't realised that Maxson had Ingram summon the damn children to watch their trial. "We heard them fight!"

  "Silence, brat! " Maxson screamed, his face purpling with fury. "I am the elder of this chapter, last of the Maxson line, and I will be given the respect I deserve! "

  "Cade's records can verify my story!" Danse shouted hoarsely for everyone to hear, his shoulders heaving with emotion. "Every time we engaged, I did not escape unscathed. Nearly every injury was documented. The dates will align with high-stress situations, and I'll stake my life on there being a long stretch of shit mood during the absence of your preferred punching bag, Elder! "

  " Liar! "

  "Abuser!" Danse yelled in reply, "murderer! You killed Cutler, through your biased orders! You killed Knight Astlin, Scribe Farris, Knight Varham! You killed my brothers and sisters!" Danse's fists clenched tight enough to ache. "And for what, Arthur? For a synth? Or for a man that had no interest in you? Either way, I refuse to accept their blood on my hands, Maxson!"

  " You killed them and you know it!" Maxson shrieked, kicking his legs desperately. "All you had to do was obey me, Danse! Was your pride worth their lives?"

  "There was once a time in my life where I would have done damn near anything you asked of me." His anger petering out, all Danse felt now was weary and bruised. "I loved the Brotherhood, Maxson. I still do. But the path we have taken under your leadership is heinous."

  "Don't you dare to lecture me about devotion, you mechanical mockery! " Maxson retorted.

  "This body may be synthetic, but my heart and mind…" Danse paused, saluting once more. " Those belong to the Brotherhood, Maxson. To my brothers and sisters in arms. Nothing can change that. Not even the knowledge of my true identity."

  "That's what you think!" Arthur flailed in the knight's grip, trying in vain to escape. No doubt so he could pitch himself at the paladin one final time.

  "Elder Maxson, through your words and through your deeds, I deem you unfit to lead our chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel at this point in time." Brandis announced abruptly. "As the senior ranking officer, I, Paladin Brandis, will function as the interim elder until we receive proper instructions from our superiors." He removed his helmet, staring down at Arthur sternly. 

  The young man was quite the pitiful sight, bedraggled from trying to beat Danse within an inch of his life as well as from his struggling afterwards. He still looked mad enough to kill, those blue eyes almost crackling with pent-up fury. "You planned this, didn't you?!" His paranoia on full display, Maxson made no attempt to maintain any sort of composure. "Just how many synths have infiltrated our chapter? Well Brandis?! "

  "Arthur, that's enough ." The senior paladin said in reply, his tone measured. "Don't make an even bigger fool of yourself. Bow out while you still have some dignity." He sighed. "Perhaps the stress of this campaign has been too heavy of a burden to bear for you. I sympathize, but I cannot permit you to carry on in this manner, Maxson." Brandis raised his eyes, scanning the crowd. "Cade! Knight-Captain Cade, please see to Maxson. He is obviously unwell."

  …

  Vega flickered in and out of consciousness. The weeks of abuse culminating in this final (though inadvertent) attempt to end her seemed to have nearly been successful. She only barely remembered Haylen treating her wound, mumbling out an apology to the younger woman for leaning so much weight on her. She caught snippets of Danse and Maxson shouting at each other, bits of the trauma that Danse had endured coming tumbling out and making Vega wish that she wasn't half-dead so she could at least flip Maxson off.

  " Rest , Vega ." Haylen had ordered. " You need rest ."

  And really, who was Backhand to refuse? 

  When next she opened her eyes, she was greeted by a canvas ceiling overhead. Vega squinted a little at the brightness of it. How long have I been out for?

  "Welcome back, General." That familiar voice snapped her out of her staring contest with the tent above her and she rolled her head to the side, unable to help her smile at the sight of Danse. Still a little bruised and banged-up, but alive . 

  Tears streaked down her cheeks and Backhand wished that she could have stopped them, sniffling loudly and covering her face.

  "General Vega, there's no need for that." The paladin chided her softly. Something bumped against her knuckles and she realized after a second that Danse was attempting to give her glasses back. 

  Vega accepted the glasses mutely, grabbed Danse's hand and used his arm as leverage to pull herself up off the cot. 

  "Wait, Elizabeth you-" The paladin began to protest, rising to his feet to stop her. Her legs nearly gave out but Danse managed to steady her, one large hand splayed on the small of her back. "You shouldn't be upright yet, Vega." He scolded.

  I missed you. I thought you were dead. The words tangled up in her mouth and instead Backhand mumbled, "I thought I missed you." Danse's brows furrowed in confusion and she hurried to correct herself, "I mean--I...I thought you were dead!"

  "I needed some time to regroup. Straighten my head out. Heal." The paladin explained quietly. "The O'Brians nursed me back to health."

  "What happened , though?"

  "What happened to you , Vega?" Danse asked instead, gripping her elbows carefully to keep her upright. 

  Backhand shrugged weakly. "Maxson thought I knew you were a synth."

  " I didn't even know I was a synth." Danse huffed, thick eyebrows raising once again. "How on earth would you have known?"

  "Maybe he was going on a witch hunt, trying to get me to confess even though I wasn't guilty of anything." She closed her eyes as she mumbled, "I missed you."

  "I thought of you every day." Danse replied bluntly. Her head shot up and she stared at him, watching as a flush crept up his neck. "I er, I...I am not good at these sorts of things," he admitted. "But it's true. I thought of you and...and of your son. Of the life you should have had. When Preston tracked me down, we realized that something must have gone wrong. So I...came back." 

  Oh . She hated the disappointed pit that yawned open in her stomach. She should have known that he wasn't thinking of her in the same way that she had thought of him. 

  Backhand rested her forehead on his chest, willing her tears to abate. "We need to get them out of the Institute." She said thickly. "All of them. Anyone that will come, Danse."

  "I think you and I should speak to Pal-- Elder Brandis. He has expressed interest in working with the Minutemen." Danse sighed heavily, then continued, "I cannot recommend that we work exclusively with the Brotherhood. There are years of prejudice that have been beaten into these men and women. The allowance of my presence is a show of good faith, but I don't know if I trust the rank and file to storm the Institute without turning it into a massacre." He gave her a wry smile. "I cannot blame them. Even knowing what I am now, it's going to take me some time to remove my knee-jerk reaction."

  "There's always something else to do." She wasn't trying to complain , but God she was tired .

  His facial hair brushed against her forehead, scraping the skin lightly. "I know. What was it you said in the Glowing Sea? 'A run ashore'?" He queried while giving her forearms a gentle squeeze, as if to comfort her.

  "I thought you were dead." She hadn't meant to say it again, watching his eyes go dark and kicking herself for bringing it back up.

  "I suppose I was, for a time." Danse murmured, his expression troubled.

  "I... please don't do that to me again." Vega begged. Her hands fisted in his fatigues, wrinkling the worn fabric. "This is going to sound really dumb and really selfish, but please . Don't."

  "When you thought I was dead, did you..." Danse hesitated. "I mean, did you really miss me? I'm not even...well, I'm not a..." He cast his eyes around, narrowing them like he was physically searching for the word he wanted to use. "Human." He finally managed to say, the admission obviously paining him. "I'm a freak of nature, Vega. A perversion of science and an example of where mankind has gone wrong--"

  "Danse." Backhand cupped his jaw, her palms smoothing over the bristle of his stubble as she coaxed him to look at her. "No offense, but you cannot be this stupid."

  "What do you mean?" The paladin asked, his confusion endearingly evident. "I'm not...how am I being…?"

  Backhand blinked. Maybe he could be that stupid. "You're probably the most human person I've ever met, Danse. The way you care about your squadron, the way you've helped me...look, I wasn't upset about you being a synth, I was upset about you being dead ."

  "Oh." Danse breathed. "Really? You... really? Me being a synth wasn't…?" His words kept faltering, uncertainty shining through with every hitch. 

  " You , Danse. I cried about you being gone ."

  "Elizabeth…" 

  "So don't you dare scare me like that ever again, got it?" Backhand leaned forward, boldly pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

  "I--yes. Understood, Knight. Uh, General." Danse stammered, his fingers absently touching the spot she had kissed. "W-We should...go speak to Elder Brandis. If you believe you can walk a short distance? I know better than to ask you to stay put and be patient."

  "Permit me the usage of your arm to keep me upright and yes, we can absolutely go."

  ...

  Please don't do that to me again .

  She had missed him, she said. She had mourned him, even. Cried over him. Danse's head was spinning.

  How could that even be possible? How could she...he was a machine . 

  No time left to consider such weighty problems, unfortunately, as he found that far too soon the two of them were approaching what had formerly been Maxson's quarters and now served as Brandis' war room.

  "Ad Victoriam, Paladin Danse and General Vega!" Elder Brandis greeted them warmly with a loose salute, gesturing around the war table afterwards. "Kells, Cade, Ingram, Quinlan, Doctor Li, I trust you all need no introductions?"

  The briefing was, as they usually were, tedious. Nothing brief about it, if he was being brutally honest. Vega held her ground though, which was all he really needed.

  "You boys aren't tyrants or fuckin' warlords. Not while I have any sort of say in the matter." She said sharply. "If you want Minutemen support, we are working as a team and the Minutemen have uninhibited access to all information as it is gathered. That means we'll need Quinlan's full cooperation." She held up a hand, staving off Quinlan's outburst. " Only in regards to the Institute. We don't want your super-secret Spec Ops sealed Brotherhood case files, so don't get those boxers in a bunch." Cade snorted and Proctor Quinlan looked absolutely scandalized, even as he grudgingly nodded. 

  "Now, General, this is all well and good but what does the Brotherhood get out of this bargain?" Kells asked pointedly. "As far as I can see, we're the integral piece in this plan."

  "' As far as you can see ' is an apt phrase, Lancer-Captain Kells." Backhand's tone was cool. This was General Vega for certain, the woman who had whipped the Minutemen back into shape. "Because what you can't see are the rest of my operations. The Minutemen aren't the only force I have at my disposal, just the most obvious." She leaned in a little, her eyes cold as ice behind the lenses of her glasses. "Do you really want to test me on my home turf, Kells? After everything that's happened?"

  "Not testing you, General Vega." The lancer-captain clarified, "simply identifying what seems to be an imbalance in the negotiations."

  "I got you Doctor Li." Vega retorted. "Without her, your Liberty Prime would still be a pile of junk. I've gotten your scribes tons of information to sift through, I've done everything the former elder asked of me."

  "Lancer-Captain Kells, if I might also interject?" Danse asked hesitantly, cringing on the inside as everyone turned to look at him like they had forgotten he was even there. Kells inclined his head after a moment. "Sir, we cannot be so quick to discredit our position. Due to our aerial location, we will be within the perfect striking distance to any sort of localized, above-ground assault."

  "I am more than aware of our position, Paladin . But that does not negate the fact that we have a much larger stake in this than anyone else-"

  "Larger than the locals who have been getting body-snatched for years?" Vega cut him off. "Let's not forget that myself and your new elder were starved and tortured for weeks , while the rest of you sat around and twiddled your thumbs out of fear and respect." She spat. "Don't fuckin' come to me with your scale-tipping bullshit . It took a synth to make you all sack up, and I don't intend to let you forget that." The woman straightened up, looking grim. "I'm not giving you anything else. You can either work with us, or you can keep pitching yourself against the Institute until they've all slipped away and you're left with nothing but an empty facility and unanswered questions."

  "She's right." Doctor Li affirmed tersely. "They won't just wait around to be pummeled. This isn't the Enclave. The board of directors will do everything in their power to avoid you and waste your resources at the same time."

  "We cannot afford to entrench ourselves in a drawn-out assault, Kells." Brandis reasoned. "When we strike, we have to do it decisively. Give it everything we've got and cut off the head."

  Kells nodded, seeming satisfied. "Understood, Elder Brandis. I meant no disrespect, General Vega."

  "None taken. I'm still recovering from getting the shit kicked out of me, so my manners aren't up to par quite yet." Vega rested her elbows on the table, steepled fingers tapping her chin. "I won't take anything from you that you're unable to give, Lancer-Captain Kells. If I can avoid using the BoS altogether, I will." She murmured, tilting her head. "I need to get in touch with some people before I can offer anything concrete, but once Lieutenant Garvey knows I'm alive I'm sure the rest will learn fast. We'll rally and plan accordingly." 

  "Well then, what are we waiting for?" Ingram asked eagerly. "C'mon Vega, let's head to the comm deck and get things squared away!"

  "Excellent plan. You two are dismissed." Brandis agreed, making a shooing gesture at the two women. Once they had departed, he turned his attention to Cade. "Do you have faith in our medical capabilities, Knight-Captain?" 

  Cade nodded. "We had been planning to attack them head on anyways, Brandis. If we're truly going in a little less 'shock and awe', we may actually tip more towards over-prepared."

  "I'm not certain how useful their teleporter will be to us once we get inside. I'm sure they'll lock it down with great expedience. However there is another possible egress." Quinlan spread the old blueprint out on the war table, fingers indicating a small service tunnel. "Now, if their measurements are accurate, power armored troops will not fit in this tunnel. But unarmored individuals most certainly will. This includes any…" he hesitated, like he was preparing himself to say it, "... refugees , or non-hostile denizens." 

  Quinlan referring to synths as anything but had Danse's head spinning. Vega was an absolute marvel .

  "It will be heavily guarded." Doctor Li warned. "They like to pretend that there's only one way in or out. Their precious molecular relay ."

  "Danse, I think you ought to take point when it comes to securing this tunnel." Kells remarked, making the paladin straighten up. "We won't be able to gauge our level of involvement until we have a full muster from Vega, but I'd like a senior-ranked soldier in the mix. And I know how much you enjoy being boots on the ground." The older man offered Danse a thin smile.

  Danse was so moved he needed to take a moment, finally choking out a ' yes sir ' with his hand over his heart. That Kells, even after all the years of growing to despise synths, would trust him with such a task-!

  Perhaps they did stand a chance, after all.

Part Seventeen

[ldyinblckmsk]

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki X F! Reader

Genre: Angst(?)

Words: 2k

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

'I remember the very first time I laid my eyes on you. I knew at that moment we were going to be at each other's throats. And as expected, we did. And it will be the favorite day that I've always cherished even if that means leaving another gush on my cheeks.'

"Don't you fucking tell me to move aside, stupid extra." You were taken aback by his lashing, laughing cynically as you clench your jaw when he sent you flying The pain resonates at your rear and it was a perfect moment that you've had a not so-nice impression on your very first day at the hero course in UA.

"Fuckin' asshole!" You launched a clear hit on his face when he turn his back on you, completely lowering his guard down. If Aizawa didn't interjects, the two of you will end up in a bone crushing fight.

We've spent so much time together, with me being a leech to you half of the time, annoying the hell out of you, pestering you to have a bad day. My day will never be complete without you screaming my name just to insult me when you fell to one of my pranks again.

"Where's that fucking shitty woman?! Y/n! I swear I'm gonna rip your head off when I found you!" Your classmates' heads snapped towards your direction, silently questioning you what you did to the feral blond. You feign innocence, giggling at the curses he was enchanting while going down the stairs. Kirishima only shakes his head muttering how unmanly it is.

"Oh? That's if you can find me, gremlin!" You shout loudly enough before you hide yourself at Kiri's back, seeing him nearing you as you giggled like a child.

"Fuckin- I'm gonna fucking kill you for real! Don't you fucking hide behing shitty hair. I'm going to blast your stupid head off."

"I- uh...didn't do anything?"

Lo and behold, the masterpiece you've had drawn on Bakugou's face. Different colors of permanent markers were painted like a doodle. You heard them gasps, mumbling how the hell he can wipe that off. Tenya looked at you in disappointment and it's enough for you to realize that you've gone too far.

Sparks were flying from his hands as he activated his quirk, really serious about impaling you. You held your arms up, waving a your white handkerchief as you surrender, lips quivering to hold the soft laughs in your mouth.

"L-look, it's only fair! You burned my uniform. I'm only doing it for revenge."

"That's because you fucking threw a bottle of ketchup on my notes, you lil piece of shit!"

"I didn't threw it, it was an accident! I fucking dropped it 'kay? It was your fault for leaving your things in the kitchen." Truth be told, you accidentally dropped the bottle...but you may or may not used the paper to wipe it off the floor.

The day ended up with you locked up in his room while helping him clean up his face. It was the class president's idea to do it so which was supported by your homeroon teacher who happens to passed by the chaos. You were quite thankful for Iida since the two of you were slowly warming up, having a truce, and rarely on each other's throats.

That was when you became his bestfriend aside from the red haired boy.

It was fate that decided that things are better off this way. After all, it was supposed to be like this. It was already destined from the start and you hate the universe for that.

It's dreading. It's hurting you. The pain is too much to bear for your vulnerable state. But there's nothing you can do about it but to wish happiness upon others.

The sound of the rain hitting the roof of the evangelical architecture followed by the roaring of thunder harmonizes with the beats of melancholy drumming inside your heart.

Clutching tightly around the bouquet of hydrangea and irises with your trembling hands, you let out a heavy sigh as you wait for the instruction of the organizer. The smooth fabric clinging perfectly to your body with the flower crown nestled on top of your head almost makes you feel perfect and pretty.

The organ that's trapped in your rib cage hammering violently against your chest as it silently screams its agony—only you who can hear it. You shut your eyes tightly while you're barely containing the bottled up emotions. No, you aren't going to break down now. You shouldn't ruin it. If anyone is going to pay attention to you, they might think that you're going crazy with all the mumbling of convincing yourself to stay put.

You, then, watch the organizer standing by the huge, oak door that was adorned by the hints of purple and pink hues, nervously glancing inside while making sure that everything goes according to the plan. Of course, everything should be running smoothly for this very special day. She gotta witness the wedding of the famous pro-hero in Japan. Of course, she gotta do her job right for this intimate occasion.

As you saw her raising her hand— a signal that it was your turn to walk down the aisle, you swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat, preparing yourself not to crumble to pieces. The ache on the left side slowly spreading all throughout your body as they opened the door.

Harsh lighting coming from the huge chandeliers blinding your eyes when you stepped inside the sacred room. All eyes were dead set on you. Familiar ones met your gaze—friends, families, and some pro-heroes. The wedding was kept from the public, not wanting any unwanted attention from the media, so the invitation was limited to their close circle.

The tune of very familiar melody hits your ears, A Thousand Years is smoothly playing in the background, echoing across the walls of the church. The pitter-patter of the precipitation against the roof mixing in, the gods' way of sending their sympathy to your forlorn heart.

Different pairs of eyes lingering at your form while the anxiousness eating your insides making you wish that you'll melt into a puddle. You never really like the attention and with the tangled wires in your brain, one wrong move is all it takes for the welling up in your eyes to burst like a dam and that's the last thing you wanted to happen.

For a moment, you blamed yourself for the hasty decision you've made. You should just have stayed home or fly across the other side of the world when you received the invitation. You should have just have Mina relayed your best wish and not attend the event. You shouldn't have trusted yourself, believing at your foolishness that you'll make through it. You shouldn't have thought it lightly.

One step and it almost makes your knees buckles and swayed slightly. The five-inch heels that the pink girl insisted did a worse part. Who knew that walking through the aisle is the most difficult thing to do...especially when you're not the bride. You don't know what face you're making of. You just wish that the faux smile plastered on your face didn't make you look pathetic and broken.

Amidst the ocean of eyes, you're eyes found him like there was some kind of magnet in it drawing yours to his infinite pools of red. Just like back in your highschool days, it was always him. It never change.

There he was, standing near the altar, clad in a tailored suit that perfectly hugged his body with his unkempt blond locks and your favorite scowl that permanently painted on his face. His vermilion eyes locked with yours, sensing the softness in it that he only unravel to you which you've painfully mistaken of him sharing the same feeling with you.

'I was the one who witness your bare soul. I was there when you've had enough of the bullshits around you, comforting you when you let out your frustrations. I've witnessed how strong you've become and the weakness you're fighting back in order to chased your dreams. Pursuing your goal to be the greatest hero who'll surpass All Might.

I told that you are already the greatest hero for me which you only replied with a roll of your eyes and a smirk.'

You saw him shift his weight to the other foot, jaw clenching, and fists balling up on his sides—his actions that you were familiar with. He's nervous.

As much as you want to shout an encouragement and assure him that everything's going well, it seems that you're the one who needs it the most for you are so close to tearing up and bawl your eyes out. It's frustrating and painful and hopeless. It's torture. But as a dear friend you are, you winked at him, then you did the archer stance, arms raising steadily with the bouquet on your right hand, shooting him your famous invisible arrow. You heard your classmate's giggles as they witnessed again your legendary 'Love Arrow Attack'

You offered him your saccharine smile when you saw how he rolled his eyes at your quirkiness. With your little gesture, you know it's enough to calm down his nerves when you saw him easing his stance while the corners of his mouth tugging a bit upwards—the rare smile that didn't fail to make your heart leapt.

You know him too well. His body. His favorites. His moodiness. His scent. His body language. You know him so much that you can write an entire whole ass book dedicated for the pro-hero. You just knew him.

'You didn't know it but I fell in your trap. Hardly. Every scrunch of your eyebrow and clicking of your tongue were memorized by my brain. Every insulting nicknames that left past your lips where automatically translated into a sweet endearment. Those moments where you shouts my name, scolding me for my clumsiness, or those little skin contact we had. I still remember all of it. It's forever etched in my mind, imprinted those once in a lifetime memories.

You continued walking, finding your balance as you slowly dragging your feet towards his direction. You remember the organizer reminding you to walk slowly and enjoy the moment. You have the urge to slap her face and scream at her that there's nothing to enjoy about. That walking at an agonizingly slow strides towards the altar where he's standing inflicts a deep pain. That you feel any emotions but the positive ones while the reality struck you hard. It is their wedding. And you can't feel anything to enjoy it.

I was greedy, selfish. I wanted everything goes according to my plan. If I want something, I make sure that it always ended up in my palms. That's how full of selfish desires I have. But...you can't just really go against fate, right? Being with you taught me things about love. They say that when people's in love, all they wish is happiness for each other.

That's why I'm here. Seeing you happy is enough for me to back down.'

As your feet trampled the purple petals sprawling across the red carpet, fat tears slowly dripping to your cheeks. It's blurrinng your vision yet you still continue to close the gap between the two of you.

One.

Three.

Four steps, you're face to face. You hide your sobs with a chuckle as you wipe the tears that's straining your makeup.

"143 637!" You shouted but it only makes the blond wrinkled his forehead, clearly confused at your cryptic message. "What the fuck you tryna sayin'?"

You shakes your head, relief flooded your body. "Nah, just trying the sweepstakes. Easy money."

"Fuckin' sappy, shitty woman." He grumbles as you hugged him. So tight that you felt him tensed up.

One last hug.

"I-I was just so happy. Thought you'll die single." You stood beside him, facing the door that's slowly opening.

'I'll still support you. I'll always be here whenever you need me. I'll always love you even if we didn't end up together. Because I'll always be your bestfriend.'

"143 637, Katsu. I love you, always and forever." You mumbled under your breath.

•••

[boymeetsweevil]

Breathe you in

Grouping: Popstar!Reader x Non-Idol!Taehyung

Word Count: ~7.8k

Warnings/Themes: Shotgunning (so thats recreational drug use), Rough face fucking, face-sitting (fm receiving), some background angst, not too scary lol

Summary: Can I pls request an ex lovers trope with taehyung where you broke up with him , but he shows you he loves you and was never over you and wants to be together again? Thanks!

A/N: This is part of the BTS Smut Club Anniversary fic exchange! Thanks for the prompt!

It’s nearing 10pm when the town car arrives in front of your apartment complex. The driver pulls up in the back entrance used primarily for allowing the higher profile residents to discreetly enter the building when needed. Normally the back entrance is littered with snapping cameras or fans who are trying their hand at stalking. Tonight none of those people are there for you because your mini-tour ended a day early, allowing you to return from Amsterdam a day before what’s scheduled on your website.

“Don’t forget,” your publicist sits across from you on the opposite leather upholstered bench of the car, “You’re close to reaching another follower milestone, so you need to do one last Instagram live before bed.” You release a deep sigh that sounds like it came from your bones.

“Shit. Bee, I’m really tired.”

“Language,” Bee admonishes while scrolling one iPhone in one hand before switching to the one in her other hand.

“Can’t it fucking wait,” you hiss, petty from exhaustion.

She pins you with a look that tells you she’s not playing this game with you and continues typing away. “You’ll sleep soon enough once we go through the checklist for today and tomorrow.”

Bee’s phone pings and you watch the set of her mouth grow infinitely more tense before her eyes dart to you. Rarely does hesitation temper her gaze like it does in this moment. You let out a sigh. She’s about to mention your ex.

“Also, Oh! News wants to bring you in some time this week to address statements Nick made about the breakup.”

“Of course they do,” you sigh again.

“I’ve been trying to push the date back but they’re not taking no for an answer. Plus, it might be better to go out and put an end to it so it can become old news.”

You massage your temples. “Yeah, no, I’ll do it. I’ll do it.”

Bee watches the gears in your head turn as you think about the whirlwind that was the breakup. With your departure to Europe only a few days after the PG-13 video of him with another actress blew up, there was naturally a lot of speculation. Most of it hateful and directed at you, surprisingly enough. Having just starred in a movie aimed at 12-17 year olds, Nick seemingly had all of the world’s young girl population locked and loaded at you. Your relative silence while on tour for two months in the Netherlands only fueled the outrage.

“Alright, alright,” she opens the door on your side and pushes your purse into your limp arms. “I had them take your luggage up before you. Do what I told you and then...go get some sleep, Sweets.”

“Thanks, Bee.”

Your penthouse apartment is as pristine as you left it when you push open the door, your luggage waiting neatly by your shoe closet. While you unpack your bags in your bedroom, you take note of the outfit laid out for your on your bed. It’s a pair of leggings that have sequins sewn up the sides and a matching off the shoulder top that will definitely require you to keep your bra on. It’s for the Instagram broadcast, so you won’t have to wear it long. But you want to crawl out of your skin and finally be able to turn off your public figure voice more than anything else. You suppose you can handle waiting a little while longer, though.

When you’re dressed and have your hair out of your face, you take your phone with you to the bathroom before waking up your speaker to play some mood music. A little tripod setup waits for you on the sleek countertop. Once your phone is plugged in and you’ve pulled up Instagram, you begin your livestream and your camera smile is on.

“Hey, everybody,” you greet the viewers already watching.

There’s a little more than 800,000 people are currently watching, more than normal this early in a live video. You attribute it to the tweet Bee sent from your Twitter a few minutes prior that broke your 2 month long internet silence.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long,” you talk a little louder over the music you have playing. “I was so busy in Amsterdam and when I did have some down time, I wanted to really unplug. So I didn’t use social media while I was there. I’ll definitely be uploading the pictures I took, though. I saw some really amazing stuff.”

You begin pumping an oil cleanser into the palms of your hands while stopping to read the comments as they come up on the screen. Some of them you ignore because they’re comments from Nick’s fan accounts. Others welcome you back and some are fans of the artist you were touring with.

“How was touring with Nana,” you echo the fan’s question while rubbing your makeup off. “She was so wonderful, oh my god. I think she’s got such a beautiful point of view when it comes to her lyrics about getting older and dealing with the pressures of being a woman in the spotlight. Also her fashion sense is incredible.”

A few more questions about the products you’re using and what you did on your off time come up. Some people ask if you’re working on a new album yourself and you talk about that as much as you can without breaking any promises, keeping the essentials a secret. Another person asks you to sing a few bars from your verse on the song you did with Nana and you do. By the time you’re tapping moisturizer onto your face, you’ve almost made it through the broadcast unscathed. But then you see a comment that has you breaking character for a second, your muscles freezing.

douknowbt$: OMG Nick is watching the live.

Hopefully no one notices your 2 seconds of panic, but you can’t be sure until someone else blogs about it. You dismiss the comment and finish up with a few pumps of hand cream, rubbing your hands a bit manically as the comments about Nick begin to grow in number. In that moment, you sign off and quickly move to end the live. But with your haste and slippery fingers, you don’t realize you missed the button and the recording was still going.

A few of the viewers try to send messages letting you know that the live hasn’t ended, but you don’t check your phone again after throwing it onto your covers and climbing into bed. With the camera facing up, you’re seen pulling up your laptop and putting on some classical music using the surround sound speakers in your bedroom. From the screen, all the viewers can see you sitting stiffly on your bed, eyes closed for a few minutes in what looks like meditation as the adagio that’s playing washed over you. After a few deep breaths, you open your eyes and reach for your phone.

“Oh sh—,” you keep yourself from cursing at the last second when you discover the livestream didn’t end. “I’m sorry, guys. I was so tired I guess I didn’t realize I forgot to end the video. I’m signing off for real now. Yes, yes, I’m okay. Just tired. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You triple check to make sure the video is off before throwing your phone across the bed. The day didn’t seem like it could get worse after your long flight and even longer wait at the airport when it seemed like your luggage was lost. Not to mention that you were bone tired and hungry but couldn’t have any of the foods you were craving because of a stupid photo shoot coming up in a few weeks. In that moment, the intercom rings, signaling that the front desk is trying to reach you, but you remain in bed and hope that it’ll stop. It does, for a moment, before starting up again. You groan before getting up and heading to the front door.

“Yes?”

“Hello Miss,” says the cheerful older man who runs the front desk during nights. “I trust you’re having a delightful evening.”

“Hello, Sir.”

“We just wanted to alert you that the delivery person with your order is currently on the 15th floor and should be at your suite shortly. Please anticipate your food’s arrival in the next few minutes and have a pleasant rest of the evening.” The call ends just like that, not leaving you any room to protest and say that you didn’t order food.

You figure it’s just that Bee saw what a huge shitshow your livestream was and she wants to send you something to make you feel better. And no doubt if it was something that came with a delivery person, it was good food. If she came herself, she would definitely have brought something like a salad bowl or a sushi plate. If you eat another vegetarian sushi plate, you're certain you'll die. Not from Mercury poisoning—like your mother always warns you about—but from sadness.

A tentative knock on the door sounds and you open it with a plasticky smile. Sometimes they send people who get a little star struck. Most times you’re amenable to just being subdued but friendly so that they just ask for a selfie or a quick autograph on a take out napkin and don't try to linger or say you were a bitch later on. 

Tonight you're not really in the mood for too much friendliness tonight, though. In the drawer next to the door, you dig around for the wad of cash you keep hidden there and pull an obscene tip out.

“Hi, thank you,” you keep your head down and blindly reach for the white paper bag in the person's hand. “Have a good—excuse me, asshole!”

“That’s not my name.”

The hand yanks the bag out of your reach at the last second, lifting high above your head. You’re not at all in the mood for dealing with a pissy delivery boy who wants to knock you down a few pegs. Putting your hands on your hips, you’re about to give him the verbal lashing he deserves, PR consequences be damned, when you a good look at his face stops you.

“Taehyung?”

“In the flesh,” he shoots back at you.

The man in front of you gives you a muted, smug smile before shouldering his way past you and into your apartment. He stands tall in the foyer of your apartment like he belongs there and has been there a thousand times. You can’t help but drink in the image of your ex-boyfriend from half a decade ago despite the fact that he’s technically intruding. There’s still a whisper of the boy you started dating when you were in your last year of high school, but much of that is overpowered by the man he is now. He’s broader in the jaw and the shoulders than he was before, and there must have been some growth spurts since you last saw him.

“This is real nice,” he lets out a low whistle as he takes in the large open floor-plan of your apartment. You follow closely behind as he starts walking around, head cocked forward with purpose.

“What are you looking for?”

“The kitchen,” he says casually.

“It’s that way,” you gesture before realizing that you need to get your priorities straight. “What are you doing in my house?”

“I came to bring you food.”

The bag he raises gives off a pleasant savory smell and you clench your fist to keep yourself from excusing his sudden appearance.

“I didn’t ask for food. And I certainly didn’t ask you for food.”

“Touchy,” he turns back to pin you with an amused grin. “But you didn’t have to ask. I knew you needed it.”

“You knew I needed it?” You raise an incredulous eyebrow, eager to hear his explanation. “How did you know I needed it?”

He places the bag on the countertop in your kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the counter.

“Because,” he sighs, “I saw your Instagram live and you were playing Elgar. You never play Elgar unless something’s really wrong.”

“I—that’s,” he pushes the bag toward you while you try to come up with a reason while he’s wrong, when he’s not.

You’ve had a habit of playing classical music when you were near your breaking point. It’s been a habit that you’ve had since you were 10, but concealed long before you started your time in the spotlight. While you were dating Taehyung, you were a depressed teenager and he was present for some of the worst times of your life. Several times he’d found you in your room or your parents’ car blasting tragic symphonies as accompaniment for bawling your eyes out. But that was years ago.

“You can eat it. I’m not hungry,” you finally say. He looks at you like he can tell you’re lying, but plays along and shrugs.

“Fine.” He opens the bag and pulls out some smaller plastic containers of food and a spoon.

“I didn’t mean here!”

He chuckles at your outburst, mumbling something about fame not changing you, before ambling out of the kitchen and through the rooms until he arrives at your bedroom. You find him about to sit on your bed and rush over.

“If you took the subway here, don’t even think about sitting on that bed.”

“What? Suddenly my subway clothes are too dirty for your bed?”

“Yes,” you huff. “The sheets alone cost me more than half a grand.”

“What the hell,” he jumps up like he’s been shocked. “Why would you spend that much on sheets?”

“They’re highly rated,” you admit with a small voice. “And they’re used by many foreign diplomats.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re so prissy.”

“We can’t all be members of a practical startup.” When his eyes widen in surprise, you curse yourself for letting him know you still keep tabs on him. “Besides. You used to like prissy.”

“Still do,” he gives you with a molten look that has you moving away from him and fluffing pillows to hide your flustered state.

“Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re hurting.”

“Maybe,” you throw your hands up. “But that’s not your job anymore.”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, parting the shiny waves carelessly. He’s not sure how to admit that he’s been making sure fame doesn’t eat you alive ever since you broke up with him to pursue your singing career. The memory of that day rings clear in his head even after five years of being split up.

Cliche as it sounds, it was a rainy night. You were at a meeting with Bee a few days before the entertainment label you were flirting with was going to give you the final version of your contract to sign.

Bee was never a huge fan of his, so Taehyung waited outside her office instead of interrupting the meeting to let you know he was there. But with the office door cracked, he could still hear the sounds of your conversation and the soft sounds of your sobs.

His blood grew cold when he heard what Bee was telling you. She told you starting this career with a relationship would hurt your numbers by making it impossible for your male fanbase to project their fantasies onto you because of the presence of another guy in your life. She told you if you were going to make it, you’d need to play up the role of sexy girlfriend to the audience members for the first album at least and that wouldn’t be possible if they got wind of Taehyung.

He covered his own mouth, barely fighting tears from welling up, listening as you tried to plead with Bee. Your voice was watery as you tried to convince her that you could make it without the girlfriend role. That you had enough work ethic and talent to do it. And when she didn’t budge, you said that you loved him and threatened to walk out right then if you had to break up with him. He listened to Bee tell you that you were being naive and that you’d be stupid to throw away all your opportunities for a boy.

And Bee was right.

So when you came outside minutes later with puffy eyes and a white knuckled grip on the sleeves of your sweater, he’d accepted his fate. He’d even accepted the lie you told him about having another guy on the side. Though you couldn’t produce a name when he asked who it was. Though you looked up at him like you wanted to take it all back. Though you leaned your forehead on his chest like you were in the greatest amount of pain. He accepted it all and walked away.

That is, if walking away meant that he created fake social media accounts so he could comment positive things on your first few interview videos and bought tickets to as many concerts he could when you were in the area. He never tried to make his presence known, just stood there and drank in how vibrant you looked when you were on stage and singing your heart out. It took a while for the jealousy to stop rearing its ugly head whenever he looked at how other people would show their adoration for you. By the time Nick came around, he was convinced he was content with how things were. But after seeing the way Nick’s cheating affected you, he had a hard time sitting still.

“Well, I’m not leaving until you feel better. So, you better start talking.”

“What is there to even say?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

You sigh and ignore him in favor of walking over to the large sofa in the corner of your room and collapsing on the large sofa face first. A dip in the cushions near you tells you he’s followed you and sat down. When you finally reveal your face, he’s peering down at you with a sad look in his eyes. The sad, sympathetic look that would always get you spilling your guts when you were still together. So you tell him everything.

It's almost embarrassing to tell him that you thought you loved Nick. At their best, things with Nick were comfortable and sometimes passionate, but it wasn’t anything close to love. Nothing close to what you had with Taehyung. And how could it have been when the reason you got together in the first place was because Bee thought you could ‘scratch each other’s backs’? Nick was not only handsome with the clean image Bee wanted for you, but you were writing and singing the theme song for the blockbuster movie he was to star in. It all seemed to work at first.

It only took one tabloid story suggesting that he was seeing some other younger and bustier actress behind your back to make you see that nothing you had with him was substantial. You brought the story up as a joke, thinking you could laugh about the way tabloids would do anything for story—even lie. As soon as you mentioned it to him, he denied it hastily and made a snide comment about not believing everything you see just because it’s technically press. After that, it was like a switch had been flipped and suddenly you couldn’t be in the same room together for more than 10 minutes without going at each other’s throats. The cheating rumors kept flaring up until they reached a peak a little more than 2 months ago, when someone anonymously submitted a video of him groping and kissing the same actress outside of a bakery in your hometown in broad daylight.

After watching the video about 15 times on the plane to Amsterdam, you concluded that even though he had long since established himself as a grade-A asshole in your mind, he was in mushy-love with this girl. You could tell from the sweet way he cradled her face while kissing her and how he took the extra step to block any potential cameras before giving her impressive rack a squeeze. Lucky for you, the video didn’t really evoke any messy emotions like jealousy. Instead there was just some satisfaction at having your suspicions confirmed and knowing he’d have to clean up this mess. You felt bad for the other actress, though. She was just starting out with mainly B movie roles and there was no telling whether the public would fillet her or ignore her altogether.

Taehyung has to sit on his hands to keep from rubbing your back you as you pour out all the things that had been stressing you out. What startles him is how stoic you are the whole time. When he first met you, you cried at the drop of a hat. It was endearing back then, but there’s no trace of it now. You sniffle a little when you talk about some of the vicious hate mail you received while in Amsterdam, but besides the shining eyes, that’s it. He clenches his jaw and wonders what you must have gone through in the last five years to have lost that quality.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles when the lull in the conversation is longer than he expected.

“It’s fine, I just,” you sniff again, wipe your eyes carefully. “I was really hoping that once the dating clause in my contract expired, things wouldn’t blow up in my face like this. And now I can’t go anywhere without people shoving mentions of Nick in my face. I just—it sucks. I just want to do what I want and I thought I’d earned that right but I guess not.”

“I don’t know. I think you’ve earned it. You’re grammy nominated this year, and you visited 13 countries this year alone.”

“What are you? President of my fan club?”

“Do I look like a 14 year old girl to you?”

You squint like you’re giving it some thought and he squawks.

“I’m just kidding,” you duck your head. “You’re, what, 226?” He laughs at the extra two centuries you’ve tacked on.

“You remember my birthday,” he smiles widely.

“Of course I do.” The way he looks at you makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up so you change the subject. “Alright. I’ve done enough talking. Where’s my compensation?”

“You literally haven’t changed at all,” he says while fishing in the pockets of his dark wash denim jacket. It takes a few seconds and he has to pull a few balled up receipts and earphones out of the pockets but he eventually pulls out a fat blunt and brandishes it like a huge check.

Nose wrinkling, you push his hand out of your face. “Weed?”

“Yeah! You said you wanted a pick-me-up, right? And I just got this yesterday from a dispensary. This is the good, strong shit. Probably could compete with the stuff they have in Amsterdam.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Huh,” he furrows his brow while hunting for a lighter.

“I’ve never smoked so I wouldn’t know.”

“You mean you were in Amsterdam and you didn’t even try to smoke?”

“It’s bad for my voice,” you whine at his judgmental glare.

“Bullshit.”

“It smells like armpit,” you try again.

“There’s the prissy princess. Well, you should know that the only stuff that smells like that is the shit broke evil dealers peddle to broke college students.”

You roll your eyes, but sit up on your heels so you can pay closer attention. Taehyung flicks his lighter to life and lights up the end of the blunt. He takes a deep inhale before letting out a thick cloud of smoke. He gestures for you to take it, but you shake your head nervously.

“What’s the matter now?”

“I don’t know how to do it. What if I burn my lips?”

He squints at you, wondering how you can be such a baby. “The cherry’s not even on the side you put your mouth on.”

“Whatever! I’m still scared.”

“Do you want to try it, though?”

You gnaw at your lip thoughtfully and decide that you need to take your mind off everything for a while. “Y-yeah, I guess. I don’t have a studio session tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He scoots forward on the couch until your knees are just barely brushing. “I’ll shotgun it to you.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

He takes another drag, this time a little smaller, and holds the smoke in his mouth. Turning to you, he leans in until you can feel his bangs brush your forehead as he tilts his head to get the angle right. There’s about an inch of space between your mouths when he starts to let the smoke billow out of his mouth. You get the gist and try to inhale it as best as possible, but you’re new to it and he’s too far away for you to get the smoke.

“I’m not getting any,” your tone is petulant as the smoke floats up around your face.

Taehyung, on the other hand, is already feeling the effects of the strong blend he bought. He scoots forward once more and then turns to the side so he can take another drag. This next time, he grabs your jaw and brings you forward to meet him. Thumbing at your bottom lip, he coaxes your mouth open and slack before slotting his lips over yours. You feel the brush of the supple skin of his lips and it distracts you a bit, but this time you do manage to inhale most of the fumes. Your eyes drop closed as you hold the smoke in for as long as possible before letting your breath out.

“How was that,” Taehyung asks lowly. His lids have drooped to match his relaxed state. With the high slowly creeping over him, he ogles you unabashedly.

“It was okay. Do it again.”

He nods and quickly burns through the rest of the blunt, giving you the larger hits when he shotguns to you and taking slightly smaller drags for himself. To keep you nearby, his hand comes to rest heavily on the small of your back. You, still on your haunches, somehow end up straddling one of his thighs to stay close. Near the end of the blunt, you’re feeling a bit floaty and like the heat from the blunt transferred to your belly. Taehyung’s gaze feels tangible on you, like a firm-handed caress across all parts of you as he looks you over. Like smoke on your skin. You recognize the feeling as one you haven’t felt in a while and move to sit more properly in his lap.

“I want the last one,” you whisper while tugging on the collar of his jacket. The ends of his long hair tickle your fingers.

He nods and moves slowly to suck the roach dry. Once he’s close enough, you wait patiently. His nose grazes your cheek for a few long seconds before he finally turns to pass the smoke to you. You take it obediently and exhale but then grab him by the lapels to press your lips to his. His hands come up immediately to cup your face and pull you closer. You work your lips over his, drawing low groans from him as your tongue teases his.

“You smell good,” he says groggily between kisses.

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes.

His eyes flutter shut when you begin to press kisses to the column of his throat, your hands moving to unbutton the dress shirt he’s wearing underneath. He tries his best to keep up with you, but he gets slow when he’s high. So he settles for you being in charge, but does let his hands roam over your body.

A lot has changed since he last felt you like this. The strict gym regimen you employ to compliment choreography for songs has given you an amazing ass that he thought could only gaze at in pictures. And he had done quite a lot of that. Though he’s not sure how you would feel if he confessed to jerking off to some of your sexier music videos. He marvels at the feel of you and you’re pleasantly surprised when his hands come down heavy on your hips to grind you down onto his lap. A pleased hum leaves you and you reward him with kisses migrating lower, across the path of his now exposed torso. You leave the couch to sit between his spread knees on the floor. The button of his jeans is your last major obstacle and you still your hands over the waistband patiently.

“You get where I’m going with this, right?”

He nods his head, tongue coming out unconsciously to wet his lips at he takes in the sight of you on your knees in front of him.

“Do want you want me to...” you trail off, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed at asking your ex if you could blow him.

“Do you? Want to?” His hand reaches out to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over you cheekbone.

“Yeah?”

“Then, yeah.”

You move quickly to unbutton his pants and slide them down his thighs once he lifts his butt to assist you. He’s wearing boxers, which is a relief because you don’t want his bare ass on your very expensive couch, and the crotch opening provides easy access. With one hand, you smooth the wrinkles in his boxers over, noting the tent in the fabric and the dark stain where his head must be dribbling pre-cum. Your mouth is watering as you pull him out and test his girth and weight in your hand. Just the sight of his dick in your hand makes you want to swallow him down.

Before he can say anything else, you’re wetting his shaft with broad licks from root to tip. He grits his teeth and lets out a satisfied grunt at the way it feels when you tongue at his slit. You take him in until you just barely wrap your lips around the head, and he lets out a low moan at finally being enveloped in the wet, silken heat of your mouth.

“Can you do me a favor,” he manages to ask you despite the fact that stars are forming in the corner of his vision when you take him against the inside of your cheek.

“Hmm,” you hum around him, causing his hips to jolt up the tiniest amount.

“Can you spit on it?”

You smile in a way that can only be described as predatory and pull him out of your mouth. You spit like he asks, letting some drool pool on him as well, while he moans again and his hand comes out to smooth over your hairline. He’s more vocal than you remember and it gets you wet quickly. Before you stain anything, you kick off your stupid bedazzled leggings so you can return them to Bee in the morning.

“Shit,” he hisses when you start bobbing your head to a fast and unforgiving rhythm. You’re playing with him, you want to wring an orgasm out of him, and he can sense this. “Why don’t we take this s-slow?”

You pull off briefly. “Tae, I want you to fuck my face. That’s not well-suited to slow.”

“Isn’t that bad for your voice,” he mimics your tone from earlier.

You give him a pinch on his thigh before taking him into your mouth again and resuming your ministrations. Since you’re so focused on getting what you want, he decides to try and level the playing field and keeps his hip movements to a minimum and opts to talk through the head instead. He’s determined to get some clarity with you

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes deeply through the feeling of your saliva starting to trickle over him. The slide is getting slicker as you continue, making him lose his train of thought briefly. “So much.”

Instead of replying back with words, you just give a little acknowledging noise that’s too neutral to be a dissenting or affirming noise. He takes it in stride and continues.

“I still think about you all the time. And I—fuck—I’ve tried to date other people, but it’s just never felt quite the same way. You were the only one who understood me so well and who didn’t try to change me.”

His words wash over you and a wave of fondness hits you in a way that has you almost shy. You haven’t been shy in a long while because you couldn’t afford to be in your line of work. People were always trying to capture parts of you, and a great deal of them were trying to capture the uglier sides. There was no room to actually fear that for the last five years of your life because it was inevitable to a certain degree. But as you work over Taehyung, his words make you feel stripped down. You feel bare and small despite the fact that his words have nothing but good in them really.

“If I’m being honest,” he says and you slow your rhythm to stare at him, wondering what he could have to confess. “You might be even further out of my league than when we first met.” You sigh and pull off of him.

“Tae, come on. Give yourself some slack.”

“No, I mean it,” he sits up slowly, tongue heavy with earnestness as he tries to talk through the high. “It seems like you’ve only become more comfortable with yourself since you started singing and the way you move—it’s like you’re from another planet.”

“Oh my god,” your cheeks heat up when he looks at you like you have a halo and wings. “Stop, you’re being so unnecessary right now.”

“I still love you,” he says. The words fall from his mouth like he’s been dying to say them. “And I know you didn’t cheat on me when we were younger.”

Your mouth drops open in shock. To this day you still regretted lying to him like that. But deep down you knew that there was something off about his reaction. He didn’t seem shocked or nearly disappointed as you thought someone might be when they hear they’re being left for another person. Instead, he had just nodded and insisted on driving you home until Bee had to come out and promise him that she’d do it herself. The fact that he didn’t block you on social media or try to drag your name through the mud immediately after your debut made you wonder if he saw through your lie.

“How did you know?”

“I came early to pick you up that day. And I heard Bee tell you what to say to me. How to break up with me.”

“Tae, I’m so—”

He shushes you with a tender kiss to the cheek that’s so soft you’re rendered momentarily speechless.

“I know. It’s not your fault, they didn’t give you a choice.”

“I would have picked you if I could,” you mumble into the space between you. His hands feel like anchors on either side of your face and you cling to them in the hopes that you won’t cry. “I really would have. You don’t know how much I missed you.”

“I feel the same way. It killed me to see you with that Nick asshole.”

You smirk a little at the mention of Nick. “Aw. Were you jealous, Tae?”

He looks down at you for a second, reading your face carefully, before dropping one hand down from your cheeks to the nape of your neck. The weight of it reads as possessive on your skin and you lean forward unconsciously until you’re able to smell the faintly sweet smell of smoke on his clothes.

“You’d like it if I was, right?” His gaze hardens, setting your heartbeat into a rabbit-quick pace. “Hmm? You like me being jealous of him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Answer me.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I do,” you nuzzle into his neck to hide the excited smile splitting your lips.

“I knew it. It’s pretty on-brand for you.”

He nudges your bare thigh to signal you need to get up and so you do. You’re about to ask him what the hell ‘on brand’ means for you when he bends down to throw you over his shoulder with a low grunt.

“Tae, what the hell!”

Your raised voice gets you a harsh tweak to the perky globe of your ass and immediately quiets you down. He walks with you to the bed before throwing you down. Not rough enough to hurt but just rough enough to surprise you and give a doe-eyed look to your face. When you look up at him, his charade has fallen a bit, eyes returning to their original sleepy softness.

“Is this how you want it,” he asks you.

His voice is deep and gentle, and it evokes a different but equally visceral reaction. You nod and then shuffle over to the edge of the bed and sit at the edge of the mattress, waiting to see where he’ll take the situation. He smiles darkly at you once more before placing a hand on the back of your head to lead to his crotch.

His erection stands taller than it did before on the couch and he digs his fingers into your hair when you plant sweet kisses on the juncture where his thigh meets groin. You look sweet like this—playful, even—as you mouth along his length with kitten licks interspersed. When you’re about to take him into your mouth once more, he fists your hair and pulls you off him. With your head angled up to look into his eyes, you see a new emotion in them.

“Look,” he sighs. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do the whole thing.”

“What, like sex?”

“No, I mean you and me. I want to be with you. I’ve made my peace with what happened between us, but I know I still love you. So, I’m asking you to decide if you’re willing to do that, to be with me. Because I can’t—”

“Yes.”

“What?” His eyes grow wider and take on an awestruck quality. Like he’s not sure he wants to believe what he heard from you. “Really?”

“I want to try again,” you curl your hands around his hips. Bringing him forward into a hug around his pelvis, you lean your chin on his lower abdomen and try to infuse as much reassurance as you can into your smile.

“You won’t get in trouble with your agency?”

You shake your head and curl your arms around his hips, bringing him into an awkward hug as you lean your chin on his lower abdomen and look up at him. “Nick was an exception because he and I were arranged by our respective agencies, but my dating clause expired last year. I can date who I want. Within reason.”

He throws his head back with the realization that he’ll get a second chance with you. The hand he has on the back of your head softly caresses the skin of your neck.

“God, I love you,” he breathes with eyes drifting closed in contentedness.

“Good. Now can we get back to this? You were being fun earlier.”

“Yeah?” His tone turns gravelly and coy as he coaxes you back towards his dick. “Are you ready to choke?”

You can only nod as you take him in gradually, only for him to wait until you get halfway and push your head further down. You gag around him at the sudden pressure at the back of your throat, but shift your breathing through your nose to get a better handle on it. He pulls you by the hair until you’re at the tip again before slamming you back down, your nose nearly brushing the skin of his abdomen. You gag and the sound causes him to thicken in your mouth and a rush of arousal to trickle down into your panties.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he moans as he begins thrusting shallowly into your mouth. You can tell he’s close from how irregular the rhythm is. “Can you try to deep throat me?”

After you give an affirmative hum and relax your throat as best you can, he takes your face in both hands and starts to pull you up and down his length, going further each time until he knows he’s in your throat from the sudden tightness of you swallowing and the increase in gagging. Saliva is now dripping from your mouth, coating him and your chin, but you don’t care. Your eyes tear up at the burning sensation, but you can also feel your arousal trickle down your leg as he fucks your mouth more intensely. Right as you press two fingers to your clothed center for some relief, he gives you a tapped warning on your neck and his orgasm spills into your mouth.

He quickly pulls off his jacket and shirt, handing the latter to you to wipe your eyes and mouth with. Once your face is dry, he tucks himself back in and climbs around you into the bed. You turn to watch him fold back your blankets and throw the pillows you have all to the foot of the bed, leaving the space by the headboard. Taehyung then lies down, head where your pillows once were.

“Going to sleep already?” Your voice comes out in a sultry croak that has him laughing a little.

“No, I’m getting ready for you to sit on my face,” he says simply.

When you don’t budge, he sits up and pulls you by the arms toward him. You try to escape him, but his grip just tightens the more you protest.

“Tae, wait, I’m not—”

“You’re not what?”

“I’m not...presentable. Down there.” You avert your eyes as you explain to him that it's been a since you were last at a spa to get waxed. You figured since you weren’t seeing Nick anymore and you were mandated by your PR crew to wait at least 4 months after a breakup, there was no need to keep up with such a strict...landscaping routine. He rolls his eyes and moves to pull on the waistband of your panties to peek in and see what you mean, but you shove him away.

“Do you think I actually care?”

“Do you really not?”

“No? Unless you have some disease or infection, what’s the issue?”

“I’m clean,” you pout.

“Good,” he says before placing a kiss on your lips.

While you’re distracted by the kissing, he maneuvers you into straddling his waist before pulling back. Reluctantly, you shuffle up to hover over his ribcage and shyly grab the headboard. He huffs.

“You know I can’t reach you from there. It’s called sitting on someone’s face for a reason.”

He nudges your butt until the seat of your panties lines up with his jaw. He sees a few errant curls peeking out from the leg holes of your panties, so he uses a finger to push your underwear to the side to get a better look. What’s unsurprising is that it still looks like a vagina, though it had been a while since his last non-bald encounter. He doesn’t care, though, and cups your butt in his hands to move you the rest of the way.

The broad strip he licks up from your entrance to your clit takes you by surprise and because you were wound up so tight from a combination of nerves and horniness from blowing him, you let out a high keening sound. Taehyung chuckles beneath you before using his full lips to kiss at the apex of your thighs, sucking your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue scrubs figure eights against the bundle of nerve endings and has you squirming over him. More arousal leaks from you and he shifts to drink from you, humming and slurping obscenely. He then starts to lick at you in earnest, tracing strategic shapes across your lips and sucking with varying pressures and paces until you start rocking over him on your own accord.

“That’s my girl,” he praises you from below. “Now, ride my face,” he says before flattening his tongue and pressing up to meet your tentative grinding thrusts.

The combination of saliva and your arousal makes the glide smoother than you expected and it feels so good that one of your hands leaves the headboard to fist in his thick hair. He moans a little at the faint sting and wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs to press you against him harder. His tongue dips into your entrance occasionally, chasing the flavor of your arousal, trying not to let any of your juices go to waste. You bite your lip to trap the wanton moans trying to escape you, but Taehyung realizes what you’re doing and gives you another sharp swat to the bottom to coax them out, mumbling against the inside of your thigh not to hide from him anymore. 

As you start to move more desperately above him, he attempts to fuck you more purposefully with his tongue. It’s just enough that in a dozen more swivels of your hips, you’re cumming all over his face, soaking his cheeks with a glistening varnish. You try to move as quickly as possible, but he stops you with a tight hold on your hips and licks you clean. You squirm away, partly because you’re sensitive and partly because he’s so enthusiastic about it that you’re a little bashful.

Finally he lets you get off him, but he doesn’t let you get too far. He follows you and almost makes it into the en suite with you, but you close the door at the last moment. You pee and clean up and when you come out, you feel like a weight has been lifted. Taehyung looks infinitely more sober lying in the middle of your bed in just his boxers, eyes bright and hair messy as he tries to figure out which remote will turn on your speakers.

You stand by the bed and watch him for a while. He turns to you innocently and holds the remotes in his two hands with confusion.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you approach your closet and take off your borrowed sweatshirt before looking for your favorite well-worn sweatsuit. “You’re just so pretty.”

“You’re prettier,” he shouts over to you. He can’t see you inside your closet, but you’re smiling like an idiot.

When you’re fully changed, you go to the bed and lean over him to kiss him. He still smells like you and you tell him so, to which he responds with a grin and subtly licking his lips.

“So when do you want me to tell the public about you?”

“Whenever you want,” he shrugs.

“Really? Because there’s a good chance you won’t be able to live your life the same way you have been once I do that.”

“Then it’ll just change. I would expect it to if you’re coming back into my life again.”

“Oh my god, you’re so—”, you’re at a loss for words.

You decide to crawl into his space and pepper kisses into his skin. He smells like a strange blend of you and him, but the smell is reassuring in some way unknown to you. You sit there for the rest of the night, breathing him in like smoke

[dahniwitchoflight]

Candy 37-End

Vriska isn’t wrong when she’s picturing Earth C’s Sky as being like Skaia, where you see in the cloud’s of the sky what is real and canon, which is exactly what’s happening here in this Sky of Earth C, because everything, even the visions in the clouds, are being bent unconsciously to John’s will.

If John were a much more selfish person, willing to take and enjoy everything he ever wanted, this would be a paradise to him, thank god he’s not though, but still sucks to be him

Love the infinite character loop that is the character arc of “Vriska” that she just can’t seem to escape btw

“Asshole teenager does horrible things in the name of role model who she thinks is cool but is actually terrible and another version of herself from another life and its only once she falls into her own bullshit does she realize life could have been different, been better”

Maybe this would all be different if all these Baby Vriska’s didn’t choose asshole versions of themselves as a role model like some kind of terrible self fulfilling prophecy

I don’t messaging Terezi is gonna work, pretty sure she’s dead, but Vriska doesn’t know that, she skipped right past the latest conversation and went to the top didn’t she? yup

Good to see that, from Roxy’s point of view, she didn’t just stop existing, she did just naturally swerve into the kind of person John would like, but from John’s point of view and what he knows, it did make her feel like some kind of ingenuine puppet. Sad to see that once again, she just wanted John to be happy, but her attempts, since they were coming from her, would just be futile in his eyes due to the context of the situation they found themselves in

But hilariously ironic if it was literally just the normal relationship troubles of becoming estranged from him because he was becoming estranged from her because he stopped treating her like a real person because he felt like she wasn't real

when from your own perspective, yourself is always real. From Roxy’s perspective, she could be real while no one else isn’t, it kind of a side effect of reality feeling like it’s being warped, everything gets dilated and stretched to kind of orbit around only your own perspective and you get disconnected to everything else

and of course, you can’t help but think, is Roxy only acting real NOW because John and thus the narrative finally really wants her to be? It’s a circumstantial question without an answer, it really depends on which perspective is being written from and who you ask

but still, the one factor no one can really account for is the house juju, while they are all god tier players with ultimate selves, John has retcon power, and that IS an advantage over everyone else’s wills, whether anyone likes it or is aware of it or not

it just happens that due to John’s non interference policy as much as possible, the changes were more subtle and thus no matter how warped, it was “well written” is the only way to explain it

so even if Roxy is a puppet or a real person, she is indistinguishable from either one

But can’t forget that Skaia is not entirely neutral either, it contains an author with a narrative and an opinion, who may be doing his best to remove himself just like John but did it is still one version of events over others, Hussie himself

that’s the real seemingly inescapable canon that makes things feel right or wrong or real or fake, whatever Hussie thinks is so

and maybe because Hussie was their original creators, some part of their cores will always be tugged back to his vision in some way, that piece of narrative influence that gives an unfair sway to one thing over another

Just like the what the cursor does to John

like Roxy is 100% accurate in what she’s saying in Candy too, IF everything was equal in it’s influence, if Skaia was a pool of everyone’s wills and not the will of just one man doing his best to not be that

Once again, the biggest problem in the story is the plothole of the cursor, but that’s one Hussie can’t be the one to solve or else the problem of influence just continues on in his own work

So it makes sense to do what he’s done so far and give the reigns over in ways to others, have other people write the epilogues, have other people in the hand of creation for things like hiveswap and pesterquest

and yknow of course fandom and audience, but things that come from the audience won’t ever be real and canon, like fanfiction won’t solve this problem either, no one would ever really accept that

it has to be a scenario where the originator entrusts decisions to other people aka Hussie hires an official team to do something and then they take the reigns from there

WhatPumpkin, maybe without Hussie, has to be the one to solve the plothole of the cursor to everything to feel truly “right”

maybe not do everything themselves obviously, but that problem has to be solved by someone who isn’t Hussie, that’s what I feel

That’s what I think, that feels acceptable and satisfying to me

mood whiplash incoming:

OBAMA?? oh my god damn fucking fuck

this is how he shows up in the epilogues, goddammit

I’ll be honest, while this is hilarious as a joke, it’s actually very derailing to the narrative

It feels like something that should be happening in sweet bro and hella jeff, not Homestuck

Like I enjoy it, but I know it’s wrong here, not supposed to be happening

This is absolutely a test for the audience, basically a dare, how much are we willing to accept as “Canon”? outright challenging us to change the narrative now

because if we justify changing this, we can justify changing other things, and then that basically opens the floodgates

That’s honestly probably what a lot of the content in these epilogues was meant to be, each thing presenting more and more of a challenge to swallow as real, how much can we take before we decided enough is enough and start making it different?

I actually hit that a while ago with nearly every implied sexual escapade of Gamzee’s none of them are things I want to be in Homestuck proper straight up I can think of no good sexual relationship Gamzee has ever had in the history of Homestuck

I actually don’t like where this is going though, like it was shock but now it’s getting weird vibes

The fated place of this planet is to be a cherub nest for the big bad (and also Calliope)

Why is Obama so concerned about the fate of where it’s meant to end up at? Nowhere good is the answer. And also his speech is starting to sound vaguely Dirk like or at least Dirk justifying and I don’t like how it’s taking all of Dave’s attention like he’s getting a sudden pump of that Dirk withdrawal.

“OBAMA: Haven’t you been improved by the knowledge of what you grew up to be in my time? Can you really say you’d be what you are today without the memory of him?”

Which “Him”? because if you say Dirk I don’t trust like that

 All of this is such a lampshade though about the whole idea of the narrative, that’s so glaringly clear.

Obama was found by Adventuring Grandpa Jake as a kid??? I mean, sure, why not, I guess all of humanity is related to Jake technically just like the rest of the god tiers

Oh wow their just straight up making Obama another “Kid of Jake” story like Jade and Joey, “lonely kid lives on island, distantly related to an old man version of Jake English, turns out the Island holds some secret that unlocks the key to more knowledge.”

Also there making it pretty clear that the rest of the Earth Kids DO have SOME power to influence reality, since John wouldn’t think of this, I really don’t think he would, it’s just that when John is involved his everything outweighs everything

Even now it goes back to the shades John gave him over and over.

“OBAMA: I think Dirk would be proud if he could see how you turned out.

OBAMA: In fact, I know it.“

I DON’T TRUST LIKE THAT I DON’T TRUST LIKE THAT

I’m also really actually uncomfortable with how far this joke is going, like, Obama is a real person outside of homestuck, putting all this shit into his mouth just feels really in bad taste, like it’s taking the joke of how much Dave ironically likes Obama way waaay too far

“OBAMA: Believing is the key to understanding the truth underlying the words, the truth underlying the ideas they represent, and the truth underlying who we are as individuals.

OBAMA: The power of belief, the power of Hope, that’s what endows that which is intangible, ephemeral, or uncertain with a sense of reality.

OBAMA: It brings focus to the insubstantial, the mirages of the mind, the multiplicity of what is possible, of what could be, and isolates it—concentrates it—to turn it into that which is.OBAMA: And the result of that, Dave, is what we call truth.“

This is neat though, basically confirming Hope as a power of Reality has a direct ties to Canonical Truth

“The only thing he knows is he needs to listen carefully to every precious syllable. To listen with his ears, his heart, his entire being.“

Is the Ultimate Self of Dirk actually just extending to like, every person who potentially holds his DNA now??? Like, as one of the ecto progenitors of Mankind itself like how Grandpa Adventure Jake was implying??

Because that’s a terrifying thought

or maybe not, this Obama IS a constructed hologram, I forgot, pull back the reigns, Dirk could have easily constructed a robo-holo version of himself to look and act a fake story of Obama just for Dave’s sake

that makes more sense

“OBAMA: He taught me about many things. Combat, philosophy, life, love... “

Yup there is no way this isn’t some version of Dirk like a strange Obama-fied autoresponder

Okay, bad taste jokes aside about using Obama as a literary device going a bit to far

Dirk using that phrase as like, it seems to be confirmation that Dirk feels a need to “train” his romantic partners and people around him to be the people he wants them to be, servants for him and that’s so gross

“ The sliding panel reveals a recess, and in the recess stands a robot. It’s a gleaming, polished silver replica of Dave, but without shades. It stands totally still, unpowered. Dave struggles to make sense of what he’s looking at. “

IT’S A TRAP DON’T GO INTO THE ROBOT BODY THAT NEVER WORKS OUT FOR ANYONE.

IT IS *LITERALLY* CONSTRUCTING A VERSION OF ANOTHER PERSON TO WHATEVER IT IS YOU WANT THEM TO BE.

God, you never really get just how control freak and obsessive it is to literally want to remake every single cell of a person and program them obsessively so that they do whatever it is that you want while also seeming indistinguishable from themselves, perfectly programmed and perfectly written

I say this not without missing the irony that doing that is exactly what Hussie wants all of us to do as well, and even I think things could be better written but that’s still hubris too isn’t it?

Calling it a choice for Dave even now rings so entirely hollow, because Dave is being written here like he would never choose anything else, so really when did he ever have a choice?

The fact that Obama seems to actually have hope powers and the way that his backstory included that note about he was related to a version of Jake English though more just makes me think Dirk’s Ultimate self got a hold of Jake’s as well, and this holobama is more just Jake English twisted incomprehensibly into another being by Dirk Strider

"Dave’s eyes widen, his mouth opens as if to scream, but he doesn’t make a sound. Infinite experience flows through his consciousness, an unimpeded torrent of raw potentiality. He sees everything. The roads not taken, the lives not lived, the thoughts, desires, fears all unacted upon. The Doomed Daves, the Davesprites, the Davepetas, life with Jade, life with Karkat, life with both, life with neither. It’s like soaring through the clouds at supersonic speed, too quickly to make out the shape of any single puffy nimbus, like a breakneck jaunt through Skaia. Huge clouds rushing by, small ones, clouds with visions, empty clouds, white clouds, then a great dark one. And then, the briefest possible glimpses—most too fleeting to be noticed—of Dirk. “

You know I just realized something too, In it’s own Messed up Way, I can see how Dirk think’s what he’s doing might be good too

if the natural conclusion I came to is that all the characters themselves need to take a swill of that house cursor thing to all be on equal footing and decide together how they want the story to be

Dirk may think he’s technically doing the same thing by unlocking everyone’s ultimate selves and merging them into his

because then it is technically every version of all of his friends all making a decision together, not just his friends, all the aspects of reality itself

except their all strapped to his will and only his will

theyre not making decisions together, theyre making decisions together for Dirk how Dirk wants is to be

they all have to have equal footing and they all can’t decide how each other’s lives are going to be

If they all get canon imbibing power and want to remake homestuck, they have to only be able to only affect their own lives, nothing more, or we get this problem

and well, Dirk just got Dave’s Ultimate self now

“JADE: as it happens, this projection within me serves as a stable conceptual foothold from which i can sense and resist another growing threat which is determined to jeopardize the canonical plane of reality.”

So again if it hasn’t already been confirmed before, Dirk doesn’t want to uphold Homestuck’s “Canon” he wants to upend it for his own purposes.

Neither Meat or Candy is Canon, but both are affecting it.

Oh cool, Alltie is actually going into with Aradia how the narrative can be condensed in such a way that they can then be applied loosely in multiple different ways, just like how I was talking about before with how Vriska’s arc seems to loop around

haha I wonder if I can do the same thing

“A brat admires an asshole, becomes one, and regrets it.”

wait I can do better

“A brat imitates an asshole and regrets it.”

that was actually a neat little exercise in how entirely strip something of all of it’s context in order to broadly apply it to multiple scenarios. Stripping the cloth in order to create a narrative thread. 

“It’s a feather, burnt at the edges, flickering orange and green.”

Oh Ultimate Dirk’s definitely eaten Ultimate Jake

“JADE: consume his body.

JADE: absorb his essence.

JADE: and then using this host, i will generate enough power to move beyond the staggering pull of the event horizon encasing this world.

JADE: a prison of my own making, which can be escaped only through the supreme unification with my other half.

JADE: it is crucial to the cosmos that i succeed.

JADE: the prince of heart has to be stopped.“

Ah, Okay, now I understand that ending part of Meat, that was actually the end of Candy, so now I assume the ending of Meat is gonna happen here on the next page?

Also, Alltie, I dunno if merging with LE is exactly the thing you want to be doing here, unless you think you can win the battle of wills on the ultimate self scale, absorbing Dirk into you instead?

You probably can, I mean, even if Dirk is an especially manipulative human given godlike power to manifest his reality and put his will over countless other only humans so far

You are a Cherub who has a specific biological advantage on this field over overturning wills and you also have godlike cosmic power

Is that why our Callie is so afraid of you? Because your soul and will and ultimate self is just as much of an all consuming black hole as what you physically became? If she gets too close she’ll stop being her, pulled in by your inescapable will?

Alright, so this is Meat PostScript technically

Now I kinda wanna deconstruct the label of Post Script here though

If “Intermission” actually means “oops the story got to long, here’s a break.” but actually continues on with it’s own story not actually providing a break from long winded scripts but instead fighting with it for space and attention

If “Epilogue” actually means “oops, forgot some story, here’s some more.” not actually being an ending chapter but a tell of more to come, a bridge between stories

Does “Post Script” it’s its meaning of “After Story” an addition, a sequel coming after the original story

actually just mean “oops, I wrote the wrong story, here’s a different one”?

after all, a sequel to a story, is actually just writing a different story altogether, but one still related to the original

and why write a different story if the one you already wrote was enough?

so you think a sequel is going to be a sequel, because of the name, a different story, happening after the first, like were leaving what happened in Homestuck behind us

but in actuality it’s the same story, told in a different better way

I’m still harping on that Homestuck 2.0 is just gonna be the story of Homestuck but written differently this time, top to bottom front to end nice and neat using one elegant stroke the whole way through

Anyway one sec while I quickly reread the last actual chapter of meat before I read this postcript because I want it be fresh in my mind

Okay Dirk’s leaving at lightspeed in a spaceship with Rose and the rest of the gang are being directed by essentially a geiger counter/shield for Dirk’s presence in Jade’s body

Oh right, now I’m remembering bloody Jade tearing into flesh (LE’s flesh I guess) while Aradia watches and then her and Robot Dave and Aradia all rocket into that gaping hole, so I guess Robo-Dave might not be all that Dirk influenced? Or that Dirk sent him specifically to keep tabs on Alltie, subtly, they didn’t exactly greet eachother or interact at all or wait for him, so they don’t seem totally allied. 

Then following Dirk’s spaceship:

It looks like a shark? Interesting

Considering Void a great Ocean, Shark is fitting a predator of that Ocean

Like how the end of Meat had someone tearing into Meat viciously

and now the end of Candy has someone daintily mowing down on a bowl of Candy, very sour candy it seems

Rose doesn’t seem to happy in a robo-body. It’s pretty clear she’s struggling to hold on to any sort of humanity or normalcy, which is interesting, if she’s so unhappy and doesn’t consider herself Dirk’s servant, why is she still with him?

So something important is needed for her flesh body, something that will have something to do with canon I suppose. Tiara imagery never bodes well, so I’m guessing it’s not just moving her consciousness over its probably also controlling it somehow

It sure makes princess imagery ominous anyway, Rose is a right sleeping beauty, or maybe a snow white if the glass coffin is anything to go by.

Oh, theyre intentionally creating a new session of Sburb?

“New Race” so maybe not humans, trolls or cherubs? Interesting, still could be new human race though

Gotta love how it ends on a dismissive tone from Dirk lol

So, is Rose all in on the idea of starting up a new session for some purpose?

and what does her flesh body have to do with it?

The only thing I can think of is that it’s meant to be a vessel for something, and right now the only person using flesh vessels on Dirk’s radar is Alltie

Do they mean to trap her in Rose’s body for some reason? and through that control her in some way?

I can’t help but think of Callie’s word again, that this is not a purple rose, but a red rose dyed blue, Alltie is certainly Red, and in Rose she’d be a “Red Rose” like how currently in Jade she makes a “Red Jade”

Dying her Blue, using Candy to control her then? Her one weakness was basically her eternal reverence for the CandyPop which if Alltie ever took part of would be the one time she’d basically lose control and think there was no problem with anything, putting her into her own drugged haze of not caring, basically the only thing you could do to stop her if you wanted to

As for this new session of SBURB, I can only guess that it’s importance lies as their attempt to rewrite their own story top to bottom starting from Humanity as a whole, only this time it’s Dirk writing everything not Hussie

So Dirk really is doing the Doc Scratch thing like with Alternia

Again, he thinks he’s doing the right thing, but he’s just totally wrong about it

That’s it then for the “Epilogues” it was a good read!

Can’t wait for the “Sequel” :)

[corpo-rat]

Johnny struggles with his developing feelings for boss.

boss/johnny gat | sfw | 1,932 words | ao3 | series

Johnny was in trouble.

It had started with a thought. Him and Violet had been hanging out on the couch, and she'd laughed, loud and bright and so very her, and suddenly Gat was thinking about kissing her. What her lips would feel like, how she would react. The thought stunned him; he'd hadn't thought of Violet that way since they first met. After that it began to snowball, with more and more thoughts like that one. He kept staring at her, kept wanting to spend more time with her, kept wondering if what it might be like if they became more than just friends.

Violet was more a force of nature than a person. The Saints died when she left and they rose like a phoenix from the ashes when she returned. She was incredible, he knew that. He also knew he was lucky as hell to know her the way he did. But what Johnny didn't know, was why he was suddenly thinking of her this way. And he didn't know how to handle it.

And now there was some asshole flirting with Vi.

There was a party going on in Purgatory, music blaring and people dancing and drinking. Johnny was standing up on the upper level near the stairs, keeping to himself. From his spot he had a pretty good view of the floor, and he'd already spotted Violet at the bar, seemingly staying out of the way just like he was. As per fuckin' usual, he'd thought. Neither of them were big partiers, this was more Pierce and Shaundi's thing than theirs. Just as he'd resolved to make his way down to her and ask if she wanted to ditch the place for something more fun, someone else beat him to the punch.

Some punk breaks through the crowd to stand next to Violet at the bar, and he can see Violet turn her head at the disturbance. The guy opens his mouth, and for a moment it just looks like a Saint trying to have a word with their boss. It's when Violet's expression turns to one of mild annoyance and Johnny sees the two drinks in the guy's hands that Gat lets out a groan of frustration.

Occasionally, some hotshot new initiate, drunk and thinking they're all that because they didn't get their face completely bashed in during their canonization, saunters over and tries to get Violet a drink, thinking they'll be the one to finally get to brag about banging the boss. The older members will warn them not to do it, sure, but that never seems to stop at least one from trying.

This exchange usually goes one of two ways. Most likely, Violet will listen to them brag for a little while, an amused smile on her face and an eyebrow raised, then she'll say something cutting that knocks them down a peg, refuse the drink they brought her, and walk away. Occasionally, halfway through whatever bullshit line they're trying to pull, they'll glance around the room and see Johnny staring right at them, looking annoyed as all hell. Watching their confidence vanish and a terrified expression form on their face as they rushed to excuse themselves was always incredibly satisfying.

Now, it was happening again, because of course it was. Johnny watches as the man offers the drink to Violet, which she turns down. This doesn't seem to diminish the man's confidence, and he continues speaking to boss, probably using some garbage pick up line he thinks is witty, Gat figures. Suddenly, the man shifts closer to Violet, putting a hand on her arm, and Gat's brow furrows, his grip on the railing tightening. He's touching her. Why is she letting him touch her? Usually only he got to be so close to her without her getting pissed off.

Something frustrated is bubbling up in Johnny's chest, and he's not sure what it is at first, until it dawns on him. Oh fuck, he was getting jealous. Gat shakes his head. He has no right to be possessive over Violet, he knows that. Yet, the feeling persists. He wanted this man away from boss, wanted to be in his place, wanted to be the only one who gets to be close to her like that. But that's unfair to Violet, so Johnny just stands there watching, hands gripping the railing like his life depends on it.

Suddenly, Violet casts her gaze over the man's shoulder, and looks right at Johnny, their eyes meeting over the crowd. Gat's eyes go wide behind his shades, almost embarrassed having been caught staring, but Violet just smiles at him, warm and affectionate. Then, she looks down for a moment, checking her phone for something, soon placing it back down on the counter and turning back to the man. Out of nowhere, Johnny's phone buzzes in his pockets, and he fumbles for it before pulling it out and turning the screen on. A text bubble pops up, and Violet's name lights up his vision, accompanied by that silly photo of herself she'd sent him when she found out he didn't have a contact picture set for her.

Vi: Want to get out of here?

Something warm and satisfied bubbles up in Gat's chest, and he stops a moment to grin stupidly to himself before snapping back out of... whatever that was. He taps his thumb on the text box and types out a response.

Yeah.

A few moments later, Violet's phone goes off on the counter, and he sees her smile as his message pops up on her screen. Turning, she looks up from the crowd directly at him, and Johnny can feel her piercing blue-grey eyes on him despite the distance. Bringing up a hand, she smiles wickedly and beckons him with a finger, and Johnny can't help the smirk and accompany blush creeping across his face.

Stepping away from the railing, Johnny walks over to and begins descending the stairs, his grin growing with every step. Violet pushes away from the counter in turn, leaving the man looking stunned behind her, matching Gat every step of the way, the crowd parting before her. Heads begin to turn towards them, but Johnny doesn't even care, his only concern is that he's the one Violet's looking at. Soon they meet, face to face at the bottom of the staircase, and Violet smiles wide at him, coming up alongside him and taking his arm in hers.

"Hey." She mouths to him, the music pulsing too loud for them to talk without shouting.

"Hey." He mouths back, and then begins to lead her up the stairs. Now people were definitely staring, but Johnny was still feeling too smug about being the one boss chose to leave with for it to bother him.

When they reach the top of the steps, he chances a sidelong glance at Violet, who immediately notices. Turning to him, she smiles and winks, and fireworks go off under Johnny's skin at the action.

Fuck, he has a crush on the boss, and he doesn't know what the hell to do about it.

From another part of Purgatory, Shaundi and Pierce look on at the spectacle boss and Johnny are creating, and Shaundi turns to Pierce with a smile.

"Those two are sooo into each other." She says.

"Yo, trust me, I know." Pierce replies, taking another sip of his beer.

They're sitting in an empty Freckle Bitches parking lot at 2 a.m., eating burgers on the hood of Violet's purple open-top Hollywood, and Johnny thinks to himself that this is infinitely better than that shitty party was supposed to be.

"Seriously, your face was hilarious!" Violet laughs, taking another bite of her food with a grin.

"Well, fuckin' excuse me for being surprised when you suddenly just started talkin'." He replies. Violet just mimics his surprised face in reply, then bursts into laughter again, and Johnny reaches over and lightly punches her in the arm. Violet's laughter finally dies down, and they shift into a companionable silence for a while, until Johnny breaks it.

"So… What was the deal with that guy?" Johnny can't resist asking, but tries to sound casual about it.

"Oh, y'know, same old shit." She replies. "Tryin' to get in my pants, that kinda thing."

"Want me to take care of it?" He offers, and Violet just shakes her head.

"Nah, I think he got the idea. No need for you to scare the shit out of him." She smiles, then takes a big bite of her burger. Johnny just frowns, slightly disappointed, and Violet snickers. "Oh, don't get like that. You know I'd always rather spend time with you than anybody else." She coos, voice coated in enough sugar to probably kill a horse.

"Shut up." Gat bites back, but there's warmth in his tone, and a hint of a grin on his face. Violet smiles back, but suddenly she shivers, running her hands down over her exposed legs to try to warm them.

"Fuck, I should have worn jeans…" She murmurs, her jean shorts and fishnet tights apparently not doing much for the cold. Without hesitation, Johnny's slipping off his Saints jacket and holding it out to her. Violet just looks at him, surprised. "Aren't you gonna be cold then?" She asks.

"Fuck no, it's barely even chilly out here." He replies, still holding out the jacket for her.

"You always were like a human radiator." She quips, smiling fondly. Taking the jacket, she spreads it out over her knees. "Thanks…" She says quietly, sounding touched by the gesture. They soon shift into silence again, just sitting and eating their food together, until Violet laughs softly.

"What?" Johnny asks, wondering what caused the sudden outburst.

"Nothing, I was just thinking of when we first actually met. You remember the comment about your eight inches?" She smiles, raising an eyebrow at him. "Y'know, I still don't know if you were joking about your size or not." She says, biting into her burger again.

"Yo, you're welcome to come find out." He teases, spreading his thighs on the hood for emphasis. Violet's eyes go wide, the blush spreading across her cheeks obvious even in the dark light. She blinks at him, taken aback, and then looks away and clears her throat awkwardly, embarrassed. Johnny just chuckles. She doesn't have to know that he actually means it.

"You wish." Violet finally chokes out, and Johnny smirks and stares, thinking that her embarrassed face is adorable. He wants to kiss her, badly, the feeling building up until he can barely contain it. Just as he's about to give in, about to reach over and take her face in his hands and kiss her hard, a car loudly pulls into the empty parking lot with them, headlights shining right in their eyes. The moment is ruined, and Johnny swallows down whatever impulse had almost overtaken him.

"We should probably get outta here." Violet says then, sliding off the hood of the car, their hangout spot spoiled by the arrival of a group of what looked like college kids out for a midnight snack. Johnny follows suit, gathering up the leftover food and tossing it in the take-out bag. They pile in the car, and Violet starts it up and pulls out of the parking lot, headed back home. Johnny glances over at her, looking at the sharp profile of her face and watching her long blonde hair fly in the breeze.

Fuck, he was well and truly doomed when it came to her.

[sosu-morgue]

Hey! I was wondering if you would consider writing companions reactions to Grandchester mystery mansion from Nuka world?

Oh man, it’s been so long since I did that quest so I went and replayed it through just to refresh myself. Sorry for the late reply, I was at work when I received this and have been excited to do this! :)

This is LONG, so be ready. Since this is my first ask I tried to deliver something good. Or at least interesting. I hope you like it and thank you for your ask!

I also used they/them for Sole Survivor, just so y’all can input your own M!SS or F!SS. I hope that’s okay, any accidental reference to Sole’s gender is an oversight.Enjoy! :)

Context/Prelude:Sole leads a companion into the Grandchester, it looked relatively stable. They entered the Grandchester after satisfying the ticket protectron outside.They were forced to take a preset path through the house narrating the story of Lucy, a girl who killed her parents in a murder/suicide. Sole and their companion travel through, meeting an ex-gunner named Zachariah. After killing him, Sole begins to scavenge the wealth of materials in the attic.

Cait:Sole stopped at the open door and looked inside, seeing this small girl in a frilly little dress and a bow in her hair. They froze, eyes wide. Cait caught on and peered inside, seeing the girl.

“What? Is this that bastard’s kid?” She felt a little strange. They did just riddle him with bullets after all. What were they going to do with a little girl?

The girl giggled, not phased in the slightest by the intruders. Sole stepped into the room and the girl retreated behind a pile of crates and junk. “Wait!” Sole rushed to catch up with the girl, Cait on their heels.

Sole spotted the door and threw it open, nearly smacking their face right into a brick wall. They frowned, confused.“What kind of crap is this?” She lowered her rifle. Sole pushed on the bricks, trying to find some trick to this. Nothing happened.

Cait shook her head, “Alright, no. No way in hell am I stayin’ here any longer - I’m leavin’ with or without you. Fuck this place, that gunner asshole, and whatever that was.” Cait spun around, leaving the attic. Sole glanced around the room, wanting to complain about leaving all this loot here. They followed Cait out though, choosing to stay together - not sitting alone in a house with a creepy little girl.

“Yeah, all that crap up there’s not worth whatever that was.” Cait made a straight line outside, leaving everything behind. Sole sweated a bit, thinking of the little girl. They were both in agreement; nothing’s worth tempting fate.

Curie:They both saw the girl and Curie was thrilled to see her. She resisted questioning the girl, considering she was here with Zachariah which was not a good sign. Sole was confused and surprised, but ultimately open to whatever. If the girl needed help, then that’s what they would do.

The moment Curie entered the room, the girl ran away much to Curie’s disappointment. “Oh, she’s probably scared. We must have frightened her with all that noise. What should we do?”

Sole gave Curie an unsure glance, definitely not a reassuring one. Sole’s eyes fixated on the little girl, questioning a lot about her. Curie did not know what to make of her friend’s reaction, so she sought her own answer.

Walking side by side the duo came around the corner of junk the girl retreated behind. A single, badly damaged door was shut - the girl’s escape path.

“Oh, there’s another room. A sizable attic…” Curie was surprised there was more to this room. Sole watched, a little perturbed and they did not understand why.

Curie turned the creaky knob, pulling the door open slowly. “It’s okay, mon petit. We are here to hel-” Curie’s hand recoiled from the door knob upon seeing nothing but a brick wall, the exact same from the walls around it. Like all those false doors through the house - this one lead no where. “Oh! I do not understand…”

Sole came up beside her, eyes searching the wall for any sign of a secret passage. A long shot, but they wanted to find anything to explain this. Sole placed a hand on Curie’s arm. “I think we should get out of here.”

Curie’s gaze turned a bit sad, “Am I missing something? She could not possibly have gone through this wall. Perhaps she is hiding, I am sure there are many places to hide here.”

She turned around, scrutinizing the room to the best of her ability. There was a lot of junk, piled, and there was no crawl space surrounding the door. Curie placed a hand on her stomach, “Oh, this feeling is very odd. I feel… unsure? As if there is some kind of reaction in my body, it makes me feel uncomfortable.”Curie nodded to Sole, “I think you are right, we should leave. Anything to make this go away.”

Danse:He was so entirely unimpressed with this lackluster display. Grandchester did nothing for him except waste his time. The irritating static voice of the narrator was droning on and on about some inane tale of a little girl murdering her parents before killing herself.It was utterly ludicrous and he wanted nothing more than to leave this house already. Sole, however, was excited to find out what the ex-gunner was holding up in the attic. Of course they insisted on digging through this Zachariah’s trash. This man was once a gunner, doing nothing but spending his time trapping random civilians in the preset path through the house. It would work on the average person, but Danse was a trained soldier. None of it worked on him or Sole.

Sole. Danse watched them climb the stairs to the attic, Danse in his massive power armor taking multiple steps at a time. He watched as Sole picked through the sparse metal shelves at the top of the stairs before heading to the door. Once Sole threw it open, they looked into the room with excitement. So much stuff to dig through, so much-

Danse noticed the shift in Sole’s posture instantly. He always was on guard for anything and Sole was rarely tense, even when fighting. Sole seemed to prefer keeping it loose; a trait that frustrated Danse at times.

His power armor loudly stomped his way to the door, following Sole’s eyes to the subject. A little girl in a blue dress stood in the center of the room, giggling as if they didn’t just gun down a man on the floor below.She turned to the side and ran off, prompting Sole to run up to catch her. They didn’t know why she was here, but she was just a little girl. There was no way she could survive in Nuka-World. Danse followed Sole, not entirely confident that this wasn’t another trap. What if Zachariah wasn’t alone?

They saw a door. A single, wooden, terrible looking door. Sole approached it, Danse raised his rifle, and carefully Sole opened the door. It squeaked as Sole swung it open only to reveal more brick wall.

Danse lowered his laser rifle, his brow furrowed. “The wall must be false. Check it. I’ll cover you.”

Sole shrugged, they didn’t think it was fake. If it was; someone was talented to create such a convincing fake wall. Leaning forward, trying to stay out of the way in case Danse is right, Sole tried to push on the brick wall.It was cold, rough, exactly how bricks felt. Sole kept trying different bricks trying to find anything that would reveal where the girl went.

There was nothing, nothing but solid wall. Sole faced Danse and shook their head - there was no way through.

Danse thought to himself, desperately looking for an answer to this problem. “What do you think?” Sole interrupted, breaking their silence.

Hesitating, Danse responded carefully. “I can’t say I know where she went…”

Sole smiled, ready to tease Danse about the existence of ghosts. A ridiculous claim and Sole would only mention it to mess with Danse.

“That doesn’t mean there’s not a reasonable explanation.” Danse insisted, “There might be another way out, a hidden door. This place is full of fool doors and rooms. There is no such thing as ghosts.” His eyes were almost glaring at Sole, knowing exactly what they were going to say next.

“Ooo, Danse. It must’ve been Lu-”

“Don’t say it. Get your things and let’s move on, Soldier.” Danse turned around, listening to Sole stifling their laugh behind him.

Deacon:Once Sole opened the door, Deacon froze beside them. The little girl giggled at them, the sound echoing through the room with a chilling coldness to it.

Deacon eyed Sole, seeing how uncomfortable they were. While he did want to know what this little girl was all about, Sole’s reaction was too priceless to pass up. “Look!” Deacon exclaimed loudly, startling Sole. “It’s Lucy Grandchester!” Sole’s head snapped to glare daggers at him.

“Deacon-!” Cutting Sole off, Deacon pointed to the girl.

“You heard the… house?” Deacon didn’t know exactly what to call the announcer. “She murdered her parents, she now haunts the Grandchester, and we crossed the line.”

Sole rolled their eyes, “She’s just a little girl, Deacon. Come on, let’s help her out of here.” Entering the room, the girl took off. “See, look what you did, Deacon. You scared her.”

Raising his hands in defense, Deacon chuckled. “What did I do? You got close to her. You must’ve scared her.”

“You called her a murdering ghost!” Sole continued on, ignoring the agreeing nod and shrug Deacon gave them.

Sole turned the corner first, stepping over trash all over the ground. A few bits dropped from their place on empty barrels and step stools. Not that Sole cared, the little girl was more important.

The door, dilapidated and almost off its hinges was closed. Strange, Sole did not recall hearing the door shut. The girl must’ve been cautious, trying to get away from the two people barging their way into her home. Sole had infinite patience for a child, especially one that might be scared of them. Even though she didn’t seem scared with that creepy giggle.

Deacon sauntered up behind Sole, crossing his arms as he watched this unfold.

Sole opened the door, still frustrated with Deacon. The girl had ran away, hiding somewhere in the house. They had no idea how many ways there was to get around.

They were met with a brick wall, blocking the potential exit. Sole looked around, caught off guard. Sole closed the door and reopened it; still a brick wall.

Deacon, interested in this mystery himself, just dropped his arms in a dramatic fashion. “See? This is how you get haunted.” Sole took a deep breath and shut the door.

Hancock:Sole watched the little girl, listening to her unnerving giggle. It was not normal, not at all. Sole assumed any child having heard the gut churning sound of a man getting turned into human Swiss cheese.

The feeling was not exclusive to Sole. Hancock was right beside them, a stern yet uncomfortable expression plastered on his face.

The duo shared a slow side glance, silently questioning ‘Are you seeing this?’

“Uh, hi there… little girl?” Sole winced. Scaling themselves for posing that as a question. “Do you live here?” A rather stupid thing to ask. Of course she lived here, why else would she be standing in the attic with nothing but a torn blue dress.

Hancock raised a brow at Sole. “Really?”

“Shut up,” Sole snapped in a low voice, a bit embarrassed. They were good with Shaun as a baby - not so much with random kids. It was weird to Sole once Shaun was born. They seemed to know just how to handle him, but not even one clue how to handle other children.

One step through the threshold of the attic sent the girl running. Sole jumped, “Wait! It’s okay, we’re not-” She disappeared behind some trash stacked almost to the ceiling. “Dammit, come on.”

Entering the attic Sole and Hancock followed the path of the little girl in blue. Hancock pointed to a door beside the boxes, no other possible way out. Sole frowned, looking around again. That door looked old, like it would make a lot of noise opening and closing. When the girl ran it was silent, so did she actually leave through the door or was there something they were missing?

Hancock took the lead, heading straight for the door and throwing it open despite all the traps they had seen in the house so far. As he was going to step through the door, he noticed a distinct lack of… well, doorway.

“Uh, what the hell?” Sole neared Hancock.

The ghoul searched the wall, a brick wall, no plausible way to get through it. “Did she just hide in here?” Hancock turned around, only to see Sole shake their head.

Hancock looked to the creaking floor boards a moment, then back to the wall. Sole looking up and down the wall too. “What the hell did I take?” Hancock chuckled.

MacCready:The house was finally over. He didn’t like it at all, aside from the speaking going on and on about some family that lived here pre-war, there were lazy traps all over the place. They found out it was just some ex-gunner that wanted to sit in the master bedroom and wait for people to kill themselves on his traps.

It wasn’t until Sole brought MacCready up to the attic that they found the only interesting thing in this house. 

Sole took MacCready by the shoulder and pulled him up. “Uh, what?” He was abruptly cut off when Sole pointed to a girl standing in the attic. “Oh, that.” Sole released him, giving him a questioning look.

“Well, I don’t know.” MacCready walked into the attic, planning on handling the little girl. He wanted to be nice about it, ease her out of the attic. He wanted to know if that ex-gunner was her caretaker, her captor, or she was on her own.

He would have tried to talk to her had she not taken off, giggling the entire way. Sole rushed up to MacCready, “We can’t just leave her here, let’s go.” Sole passed the man, hoping to catch her and keep her calm. Which was unlikely since she was probably already a bit scared.

She didn’t sound like it though, with all that giggling. MacCready spotted the door the same time Sole did, it was obvious where she went.

Sole headed straight for the door, grabbing the doorknob when MacCready put his hand on the door to stop it from opening. Answering Sole’s question before they could ask it, “We don’t want to spook her. If she’s in there than she’s hiding or running. Either way, we should just take it slow.”

“So what do you want to do?” Sole released the handle, letting MacCready take the lead. He did, after all, lead a hidden settlement of children. So Sole trusted his caution.

MacCready stepped in front of Sole, leaning to the door. He thought carefully about what to say. He raised his voice, trying to make sure he could be heard through the door. “Hey, hi there.” He winced, “We’re not bad, we’re just lost. Can you help us?”

The two waited, nothing but silence. “Did you know that person downstairs? The adult that stayed here?”

Sole put a hand on their hip. MacCready pursed his lips. “We just want to make sure you’re okay. We won’t make you leave if you don’t want to.” There was absolutely no sound from the other side of the door. “We’re coming in, okay? If you want us to leave just say so.”

Slowly, steadily; MacCready started to open the door. The door made a shrill sound, the hinges rusted badly. He did his best to minimize the noise, knowing it was uncomfortable.

Once the door was open enough, MacCready leaned over to look inside.

His expression fell as he saw nothing but a brick wall. It took him a moment to understand what he was looking at.He heard Sole chuckling behind him. “Well, that was interesting to watch.”

MacCready shook his head and let go of the door. “I tried, what else do you want.” He glanced back to the door that lead no where. “I wonder where she went.”

Nick:He didn’t exactly know a lot about Nuka-World except that it was an amusement park and Sole had been spending a few weeks exploring what it had to offer. Unfortunately, that exploration lead them to this house. Not that it was dangerous, filled with fearsome people or beasts, but rather that it lead no where interesting. A priority for Sole who seemed to enjoy discovering new places.

With Zachariah, who they learned through his terminal, dead and out of the way Sole began to scavenge. Not much that they needed, he assumed, since he had seen at least half the settlements Sole had built for the Minutemen. They were well set up, some large enough to be considered new towns in the commonwealth.

Nick looked up the stairs, coming to follow Sole to the attic. He hadn’t seen a lot other than ammo that Sole would be interested in. Once he saw Sole’s face he realized something was not quite right. He didn’t want to leave Sole up there alone in case Zachariah had friends and caught Sole off guard.

Holding up his pistol he approached Sole’s side cautiously. Sole looked at him and made a low gesture to put away his pistol and nudged their head telling him to come over. Nick did as asked, curious to see what Sole was doing.He found out quickly as the little girl giggled, a sound that felt like it seeped through the rotting walls of Grandchester.

Sole and Nick were unsure what to do exactly, she seemed so normal. Why was she here? What was she doing just standing there?

“Hi there.” Sole started, their voice soft. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Sole and this is Nick. Are you here alone?”

The girl just stood there, a giggle escaping her lips once more. Sole did not like the sound, Nick agreed. Sole and Nick had both read the terminal’s last entry; something about a little girl’s laugh. So he didn’t know her, he couldn’t or he would’ve known the laugh.

“You must be good at hide and go seek, huh?” Nick wanted to approach her pleasantly. “The man downstairs never even knew you were here. You must be very smart.��

The girl rocked on her heels, still not saying anything or moving. Sole gave Nick a shrug, not sure what to do. They didn’t want to scare her, though she didn’t appear like she was worried about them.

“Hey, would you like to-” Nick was going to ask for the girl to show them the house, something familiar for her to connect to. Instead, when he tried to get closer to her, she sprinted away.

Sole hurried up into the room, trying to find the girl. Nick was quick to see the door she must’ve ran into. Looked damaged, but otherwise fine. The other door in the room was boarded up, so this could be a place where she hides.Nick’s right hand tinged on the door knob, his metal fingers just barely holding onto the handle. “We’re coming in, okay?” Sole called over Nick’s shoulder.

He pulled the door open and both of them just stared at a brick wall. “Uhh, Nick?”

“Yeah, I know.” Nick closed the door, contemplative. “Maybe we should just get your stuff and head on out.”

Sole nodded, “Right behind you.”

Piper:“Okay, are we leaving yet?” She was tired of this place. Traps, grenades, flamethrowers, and a crazy guy hiding on the top floor. This house wasn’t exactly on her list of park attractions she wanted to visit. The actual house, traps and murderer excluded, it was uninspired. Some speakers talking about the haunted house, but not doing anything else interesting.

Sole stuffed some extra ammo into their bag, happy with their haul. That was before they saw the door leading to the attic. Once more Sole was alight with intrigue. Piper just followed them, she figured she’d have the extra pockets Sole needed.

Climbing the stairs fast, Sole scanned the metal shelves before turning to a closed door. Thrilled to see there was more to dig through, Sole opened the door and headed in.

Piper approached, rolling her eyes with a grin on her face. Once she got near the door that grin faded, seeing Sole just standing in the doorway. Then there was a sound, a girl’s giggle traveling down the stairs. She was alarmed and came up to Sole’s back, looking over their shoulder.

There stood a little girl, just standing, no indication of what she was thinking. They had entered the house, strangers, she was likely nervous. Piper took over quick, knowing how to handle a little girl that got scared of strangers.

“Hey, are you okay?” Piper started, a gentle smile and sweet voice to comfort the girl. “We didn’t know you lived here, I hope you don’t mind if we visit with you for a bit.”

The girl giggled, a positive sign to Piper. “What’s your name?” Piper neared her, bent down, and offered her hand.

Instead of doing anything Piper expected, the girl ran away behind the junk the gunner had thrown together. She stood up straight, concern etched across her features. “We gotta make sure she’s okay, Blue.”

Sole nodded, recognizing both the girl in potential trouble and Piper’s worries. The two walked quickly to the spot the girl was in, dead center of the room. Piper’s catching the dark wooden door just behind the boxes. “There, she’s gotta be in there.”

Piper was quick to turn the handle, but only slowly cracked the door. She didn’t open it all the way, just wanted to speak through it for the moment. “It’s okay, we’re not here to hurt you. We just want to-” The door opened enough to let light in. She was stunned to see nothing but wall behind the door.

“Uhh, Blue?” Piper felt Sole’s hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I see.”

Piper turned out, inhaled deeply and exhaled calmly. “Okay, that’s it. Blue, I’ve had enough of this house.” She was supported by Sole, who took her out of the Grandchester, leaving the strange house behind.

Preston:Though he never let his laser musket out of his hands while in the Grandchester, he didn’t feel like there were anymore blind corners. Right now he just waited, letting the General do whatever they wanted. He always watched their back while they dug through trash to find something valuable. An impressive perk Sole consistently surprised him with.

Preston was also thankful for it, because it had built many of the settlements Sole saved, established, and built into a sustainable home for many travelers. Trade routes began to flourish, the commonwealth was slowly becoming a safer place.

All thanks to Sole’s ability to find double packed duct tape to hold it all together.

Preston smiled and shook his head slowly. He was happy to travel with the Minutemen’s General, quite the honor even though Preston insisted on Sole being in the position. Sole believed Preston deserved it, but it was last thing Preston wanted. He liked being out in the field, he liked fighting on the ground and maintaining safety for everyone.

As Sole discovered and climbed the stairs to the attic, Preston dutifully followed his friend to the very top of the Grandchester. Sole was certainly excited to see what the ex-gunner had stockpiled in the attic.

Once that door swung open all that excitement turned to confusion. Preston came shoulder to shoulder with Sole, inspecting the room.

There, center of the room, stood a young girl with a tattered blue dress with white lace. Preston just assumed she was here with the ex-gunner, but he didn’t want to ask why. A whole lot of reasons were possible and only a few of them any decent.

She giggled, an impressively menacing sound considering the stature of the girl. Preston felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Well, that’s creepy.”

Sole gave him a ‘Really.’ look.

“Right.” Preston cleared his throat, “Uh, hey there, little girl.”

Another look from Sole, “We’re here looking for something nice for our friends. Do you mind if we come in? It’s okay if you say no.” Sole took over a moment, trying to assure the girl they were not threatening her.

The girl just turned and ran, alerting the two Minutemen. “Aw man.” Preston sighed, the duo coming up to see where she went. They didn’t mean to frighten her, but that giggling certainly gave them a strange chill.

Sole saw the door first, tapping Preston’s arm to show him. They neared the door, Preston stayed where the door would open and Sole behind the door. Giving Preston a confirming nod, Sole reached out and slowly turned the doorknob.

Preston leaned his musket against the wall, not wanting to scare her. Once the door was opened Preston leaned around the door frame.

He opened his mouth to tell Sole there was nothing but a brick wall, but thought about how to explain it. Preston moved from his cover and reached for the door, gesturing Sole to come around.

Once Sole saw, they both closed the door carefully.

“General?” Preston started, his tone flat.

“Yeah, Preston?” Sole blinked, no real inflection to his voice.

Preston pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s leave.”

“Okay.”

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

In and out (Part 2) (Nathan Drake x Male Reader)

Description: There was a deal between Elena and Nathan to make her way to Yemen for managing to get them to the city. But plans don't go so easily as they should. Well, isn't that pretty common thing for Nathan & Co.™?

Based on the request from @march-moon

A/N: So we’re establishing the relationships between our main characters, getting to know them (like I know you know Nate the Pure Boi™ and Sully the Womanizer™), and so on. Enjoy! Also, their song will most probably be I’m your man from Leonard Cohen. (Youll see whose song I'm talking about, especially you, @missdictatorme ) 

Warnings: None really, just some my adding to adjust the story and making Sully a caring old man. And it looks like it will be a slow-burn fanfiction. Sorry! 

Word count: 1 884 (+/-)

They walked into the airport in a rushed pace, their eyes were almost burning by the light of evening sun which was getting low. Sully couldn't be concentrated for one minute straight, thinking only about their friends being in danger. He was constantly nervous about it.

And Drake smiled when he saw the woman who he and Sully were talking about. It felt relieving that he didn't lie to Sully and she was truly alright. She has clothed some nice jeans and a clean sweater, her hair was loosely held in a black clip and her face looked straight murderous. She was sick worried for both of them, almost broke in tears on the airport when they weren't answering her calls. They got lost the track of time in there and Sully’s phone broke. 

But now she saw them alive and she seriously thanked God for seeing them.

"Where were you?" She whisper-yelled at them in her nice voice, coming to hug them and help them with the beverage. Her name was Florence, but Nathan rather called her Carter, and she was one of them.

For Nathan it was just a friend who could kick ass pretty well and who laughed at his stupid jokes, she even shared his love for archeology, but she was so much more for Sullivan. Not like they were in an openly well-known relationship, but it was quite some time ago since Sully proposed to her. To be quite honest, Nathan had the suspicion that she made him propose because Sully wasn't exactly the family-life or commitment man. Their history was a bit... Complicated, per se, but it always felt somehow good to see them back by each others' side.

They had huge ups and downs in the last few years, and they even broke up for two years, getting back together just shortly after they came back from the Himalayas last year. Especially hard it was when Sully just disappeared with Nathan for a few months all of a sudden without even letting her know to Greece-or-where-the-fuck-did-you-two-assholes-go (as she called it).

'Ya know Nate, there's something about that girl that just makes me twirl inside,' Sullivan always said to Nathan when he got the news of them putting it back together.

It all started in 1996 when Florence and Sullivan meeting on Cuba. He was forty-six at that time and to be honest, Nathan had to admit that he was a real hit with the ladies around that time - but she was only twenty-one at that time and unbelievably, they put it together only a year after that. And since then, they somehow managed to stay together... Let's put it that way.

She tolerated all his ailments as well as he managed to keep her nature under control. They were never directly explicit about their relationship, they didn't hold hands in public or kiss each other in front anyone much often - the biggest reason for that was their seriously huge age gap, but there were looks and sparks in their eyes when they were talking about each other or when they were around each other. When Sullivan spoke about her and Nate, he always said:

“These two are the worst catastrophes that stumbled into my life and both of them had the best outcomes that changed my life eternally. I never wanted a fiancé or someone, who will be a son to me and yet I got them.” 

"I almost went mad from fear," Florence bumped her head in Sullivan's shoulder as she put his hand oh the back of her neck. "I'm so glad that you're all right, big guy," Flo smiled firmly and circled her arms around Sully's neck, while he bumped with his forehead to hers lightly, smoothing her cheek with his thumb. "Sugar," Sullivan answered with a low and firm voice and Flo made a step backward from him.

She hugged Nathan too, but that hug was faster and lighter than Sully's hug.

"Thought they took you as hostages. Were you two trying to get killed again?" Florence started to calm down and joked around in an unsure voice, taking Nate's bag and following Sully to their seats which Florence took by the rest of their beverages.

Nate was still fascinated by how that woman could lift spirits to his best friend so easily, just by being present somewhere near him. Even if he looked pretty calm down, he still frowned a little, because of the fear for Frazer and Cutter.

"Don't say that you were worried about two big hunks like us," Nate answered with a childish tone and she managed to give him a gentle punch to the shoulder.

"Don't let her lure you into her lies, she wasn't afraid, she was just happy that no one will irritate her anymore," Sully warned him and Florence laughed at that, finally getting back in the mood. But Drake looked kinda scared. "Hey, if you don't want to have a dinner today, just continue. I want to eat, so I'll say that she would definitely kick some arses on a way to our rescue. If necessary, of course." He put a hand on his heart with a serious expression on his face.

"You are an incredible social ranking climber, Drake," Florence threw him a cold burrito wrapped in cellophane. Flo also got one for Sully, giving him the burrito and a bottle of coke directly to the hands. 

“About that gig,” Nathan touched his bum and pulled a little diary out of his pocket. He handed it to Florence and suggested to her, which page she should open. And when she opened it, she just opened up her mouth and looked at both of them with a surprise in her face.

“Are you two kidding me right now?” Florence said and her voice went up and down as the voice of a boy going through puberty. “You actually found something in there?"

“We do know, in fact.” Nate agreed, but Florence ignored him completely. She was so excited that she actually quit noticing reality even at the slightest. 

“She has her own little Christmas right now. Let her be, she calms down eventually.” Sully whispered to Nathan in a low voice, but he was smiling at the sight of her fiancé being so happy.

“It’s next clue, some sort of amulet I would presume!” Florence whispered to herself as Nathan sat on his arse on of the airport seat, slowly eating his burrito.

“Do you think that she’ll,” Nathan looked at Sully with a question in his eyes. He was curious about Florence lecturing them about things they already knew. And just as he looked at Sully, Florence turned to them with a look of a small child in her eyes. “And here we go,” Nate whispered as he listened to every word Florence said. 

She was pretty right about everything she said and Nate with Sully just slowly nodded their heads in the rhythm of her speech. Nathan sorta saw what Sully liked about her so much - it wasn’t her big brown eyes or curly ginger hair, no. It was her personality. She managed to stay optimistic at most of the times and she could be seriously stubborn sometimes, and Nathan knew that her stubbornness is what she got Sully on. 

He was a huge ladies man before he met Florence or tried his luck with Maggie during their break up, Sully spent every one of his nights with a different lady. And that was the problem, they went directly to the bed and not offering him to fight for it. When Nate met him, he was on the top of his strengths and he was a definite womanizer.

And one day Sully just came to the flat they were living in with a huge smile on his lips, talking about some pretty pert girl in the museum they were doing research in. And she seriously made him fighting for even a drop of her affection, Florence sometimes did that till that day when she got mad at Sully. And his adoration for her was seriously infinite because of that.

“... So that’s why I find it so fascinating, boys.” She finally finished her speech and went to take a bite of Sully’s burrito. 

“You had your own, missy,” Sullivan warned her as she gently put her fingertip on his own hand and took a huge bite. Florence almost ate half of Sully’s burrito.

“But it’s so good.” She moaned. Nathan just looked their direction with a disgusted and confused look on his face. She frowned to his direction and she looked seriously murderous. “What's your problem, Drake? We're talking about the burrito you pervert.” 

“And I don’t doubt that Florence,” Nate answered innocently, but something on Victors amused look told him that she’s probably lying. But what should he do about that? “Not at all.” 

His motto, expect Greatness from small beggings, was Live and let live. This situation was in fact seriously ideal, just partially fucked up as they were used to. Everyone was safe and sound, everyone was alive at that point and they were together. And Nathan had to be true; he had cheesier pickup lines than Flo had. 

And so they joked there around an hour, waiting for their airplane to Syria. They stood under the sun which was getting lower and lower and watched the stars which started to show up above the plane. It was so beautiful because they were at the end of the world in France, on a small airport distant at least two kilometers away from the city. 

Sully started to showing Florence the stars as countless times before to keep her entertained and to keep her from thinking about Cutter and Chloe who they were about to save of at least to find if they weren't in any sort of danger.

When the plane finally took off, Nate assumed that he better get some sleep even though the people were seriously watching them with a curiousness written in their faces. They smelled pretty bad and they had the dirtiest clothes on them, so people assumed that they’ve done something pretty wild. 

They had three seats, one next to the other, and Florence sat in the middle, letting Sully put a pillow on her shoulder to get some sleep too. And when Nathan started to slowly fall asleep, he heard Sully and Florence bickering about her engagement ring. 

“Why don’t you still wear it, honey? I'm back for almost half a year and haven't seen it once on your hand.” Sully asked in a low raspy voice and Nate heard that he's about to fall asleep too. He saw their hands entwined in almost secretive was just as if they were afraid of the judging that could come anytime and from anyone.

“Because of I'm afraid that I’ll break it or lose it and I just think that you would not buy me a new one, would you Victor?” Florence laughed back, smoothing his sweaty jaw. 

“I will buy you every ring on this goddamn planet if you promise me that you'll stay safe.” He promised and with that, they went completely silent, slowly entering the realm of dreams together. 

[forestwater87]

Ascendant, Ch. 4

(In which I badly rip of setepenre-set’s style so much I have to credit it)

“Sister Hannah doesn’t think you’re ready for ascension.”

“And here I thought we were getting close,” Kevin said dryly, keeping his focus on his “garden.” He’d been letting this part of his supply grow thin; Daniel didn’t enjoy the outdoors, and his visits had increased until he appeared at Kevin’s trailer almost every day. But he’d be damned if he let court-mandated bonding fuck up his business.

Daniel leaned against the side of the trailer, springing upright with a pained hiss as his skin met the sun-baked metal. “She thinks you have too much negativity in your system. It’s clouding your mind with doubts.”

Kevin frowned, glancing up from the plant he was tending. “Isn’t that what ascension is supposed to do? Clear out all that shit so I can be a good little cultist?”

“Don’t say that,” he snapped, his expression darkening. “She’s right — you’re so swamped with toxins, the Confederacy would never accept you.”

Kevin was surprised to find that . . . actually hurt, a little. Not that he gave a damn what Daniel’s Ancient Ones thought, but — “Hey, fuck you. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Daniel scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away. “Please. You have so many impurities it’s disgusting. You’re tainted.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Kevin said, standing. He headed back toward his trailer, letting his shoulder knock into Daniel’s roughly. “What’re you doing wasting your time here, then, if I’m not gonna be invited to the party?” He smirked, even though the knot in his stomach was anything but funny. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Daniel didn’t answer. Kevin glanced back to see him standing in the same spot by the garden, looking shiny and lost and exposed without the safety of drawn curtains and soft lamplight.

A wave of — something — washed over him, hot and cold and strangely feverish. “How long have you known I’m not going to ascend?”

Exactly how long had Daniel been told he was a lost cause and kept coming here anyway? (Hell, he probably didn’t even need to be told; no one could possibly expect someone known as Dirty Kevin to fit into a world of cleanliness and purity.)

How much did Sister Hannah even know about this?

Daniel’s mouth worked, angry red blotches flaring up along his cheeks and neck. “What are you talking about?”

Kevin paused in the doorway. “Are you coming in? Or do you have a party to plan?”

After a moment, Daniel followed him into the trailer and took his usual seat on Kevin’s couch, crossing his arms and legs like a very displeased, pale Twizzler.

Kevin settled down at his only table, snagging a tote bag from under the sink and emptying it in front of him; dozens of orange prescription bottles rolled over the pocked wood surface. “To be honest I’m kinda glad to be left out,” he said conversationally, picking through the bottles and sorting them. “You probably are too, huh?”

Daniel had been watching his work curiously, but when Kevin glanced up at him his eyes immediately darted away. “Someday you’re going to say something that makes sense,” he muttered, his voice a sullen growl, “and I’m pretty sure the shock of it would kill Xemüg Himself.”

Kevin was surprised into a laugh. God, what an asshole. “It’d probably make more sense if you were fucked up,” he said with a grin, shaking one of the pill bottles like maracas. “What d’ya say, wanna try some good old-fashioned Earth toxins?”

Daniel ignored him, frowning at Barbra; her ears flattened against her head and she hissed. It was her standard response to Daniel, which Kevin thought proved she had excellent judgement of character.

“But seriously, ascending means you basically lose everything negative, right?” When Daniel nodded reluctantly, he continued. “No drugs, no sarcasm, no inappropriate jokes or uncomfortable questions, right?”

“A pleasant side effect of ascension,” he grumbled, “would be making you infinitely more bearable.”

“That’s basically everything about me.” He shot Daniel his most charming smile — although he refused to look over, so the effect was somewhat wasted. “Wellll, I think you’ve gotta like at least some of those things or you wouldn’t keep coming around.”

Daniel’s head snapped in Kevin’s direction, his eyes wide and his lips parted. (Of it wasn’t for the unsettling cult vibes, the kid would look every bit like a Disney princess.) “That —“

“Admit it,” he needled, tapping the bottle in his hand on the table, “you’d miss me if I ascended.”

“I doubt it. You never go away — why would ascension change that?”

He decided not to point out that he’d never sought Daniel out once. “What makes you think I’d stick around? Doesn’t everyone disappear?” Wasn’t that, in fact, the real reason he was so damn relieved not to be part of this bullshit?

Kevin had tried, more than once, to delicately ask Sister Hannah what happened after ascension in the few times he stopped zoning out long enough to pay attention to the meetings. He’d always been steered away with a polite but unswayable change of subject. Daniel, though he didn’t seem to understand a whole lot more about all this than he did, was at least a lot worse at maintaining secrecy. “Hey, where’d you guys come from, anyway? S’not like you grew up around here.” It had taken him a few weeks to recognize the little white house the Circle of the Confederacy was using as a church, but it had belonged to one of his old high-school teachers as recently as a year ago (he should know; Mrs. Parsons was one of his infrequent-but-predictable customers).

Daniel glanced up, distracted from his staring war with the cat -- Barbra, satisfied with her victory, celebrated by sniffing Daniel’s hand and then darting under Kevin’s chair. “The Elders and their flocks are always traveling,” he said carefully, “to keep finding new members.”

Great, they were back to parroting party lines. Sister Hannah had said essentially the same thing, at the last meeting. “Right, but the place you were last. It had a name.” When Daniel just looked at him, his expression telegraphing the snide “obviously” so clearly he might as well have just said it, Kevin sighed, shaking his head and reminding himself that it wasn’t Daniel’s fault that he was a goddamn idiot. “What was the name?”

“Why do you care?” Kevin didn’t bother replying; sometimes the best thing to do was just wait until Daniel’s curiosity overcame his general difficultness and assholery. And sure enough, after a few quiet moments . . . “La Veta. There was a school there Sister Hannah worked with.”

He frowned, pushing his chair back and nearly giving his cat a heart attack, if the baleful stare she gave him was any indication. “Why do I know that name?” He’d thrown his sweatshirt over the back of the easy chair before going out to the garden, and he rifled through the pockets for his phone. Across the room he noticed Daniel grimace, but ignored it in favor of Googling.

“Jesus fuck.”

La Veta, Colorado. Population of like a thousand, probably very pretty in one of those “this is a shithole but it has quaint charm to someone who’s just driving through” ways, completely unremarkable.

Except for that one time forty high-school kids dropped dead.

Kevin remembered that story, not only because it was a drama for the old fucks to pick apart in their rocking chairs -- one of the great unsolved, after all, no fingerprints except the students’ on the poisoned cups, none of the parents or friends really knew what all those kids were up to, some top-secret Jonestown shit -- but because it had forced him to be extra careful with everything he sold. People were paranoid for a long time after that about taking anything from strangers, even their friendly neighborhood drug dealer.

“This . . . was you?” He needed to call the police. Probably. “This was fucking you.”

“It was an accident,” Daniel added immediately, as though he’d just been waiting for the opportunity to speak. “I wasn’t there -- I was too young, wasn’t ready -- hadn’t been properly trained like I am here and something went wrong with -- with the ascension, there was nothing Sister Hannah could do . . . she was inconsolable -- I, I had to make sure we got out of town safely, she couldn’t stop crying -- it wasn’t on purpose!”

His head was buzzing, fluffy and clouded like Barbra had coughed up a hairball onto his brain. He really had to call the police. He and the police weren’t exactly on good terms, but . . . this was fucking huge. This was kid-killing huge.

“What happened?” he finally managed, barely able to hear himself through the buzzing.

Daniel paused, chest still heaving from his frantic explanation (confession?), watching Kevin as though to make sure he wasn’t going to panic.

(oh he was panicking)

After a few beats of silence he relaxed incrementally, settling back against the couch. “I . . . don’t really know,” he admitted. “Sister Hannah was too upset, she wouldn’t tell me. Even now, if I --” He shook his head. “She says it’s okay, though, this time.”

Kevin’s thoughts were broken, fragments of ideas beating against one another and screaming.

(she was too upset)

(Daniel had to get them out of town)

(it was an accident an accident no one could blame them)

(no one could blame h e r)

(god she was fucking brilliant)

“An accident.” His lips felt numb. His fingers, still holding his phone but not using it to call the police or text for help or anything useful, numb and disconnected from his body like pale sausages with untrimmed nails.

(corpse fingers)

“I think -- maybe it had something to do with the ascension formula. There’s a ritual, a drink, and Sister Hannah always says that it’s very important to get it right or the ceremony will be ruined.” He swallowed audibly, looking down at his hands. Hands that were long-fingered and bony and pale, dangling limp between his knees.

(skeleton hands)

“Huh.” He had to do something, and his brain was very much not fucking cooperating at the moment. “So, uh. Before that. How long were you in . . . that. There.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the town’s name, the name that meant only news headlines and dead children.

And Daniel.

It took Daniel a second to piece those shreds of a sentence together. “We lived there for three years. I . . . didn’t go outside much, though. Only at night, really. I didn’t go to school, and so it was better that nobody knew I was there, so they wouldn’t ask questions.”

The obvious question hung in the air between them

(why didn’t she let you go to school?)

but neither of them reached out and took hold of it.

“Before that, my mother and I -- I mean, Acolyte Rachel and I -- lived in Sister Hannah’s compound. She wasn’t Sister Hannah yet though; she was like me, training with my -- with Acolyte Rachel to be an elder.

“But Brother Robert -- he was Sister Hannah’s ‘Sister Hannah’ --” Daniel stumbled a bit over that awkward wording, but soldiered on, “decided that Acolyte Rachel wasn’t . . . meant to be an Elder. She was supposed to ascend instead, and go visit places with the other Acolytes to prepare people for the arrival of an Elder. That’s what she told me. She said that we -- that Brother Robert saw something special in me, and that even though she’d have to leave me behind once she ascended, I might someday be the Elder who came to her town, and we’d see each other again. See each other serving the Confederacy together.”

Kevin’s legs were starting to shake -- he wondered distantly if this was what fainting felt like -- and he took a seat across from Daniel, supporting himself on the arm of the chair like an old man.

(he felt old, haunted and weary and old)

He’d paused in his story while Kevin made the laborious trip from behind the chair to sitting in it, again poised like a rabbit ready to run. After a moment, when Kevin’s phone remained in his hand with its screen black and dead and useless

(useless like him dead like forty kids)

Daniel continued, talking like he’d never told this story before, like each piece was as new to him as to Kevin. “She had a weak heart. It was Sister Hannah’s first ascension as an Elder and M -- Acolyte Rachel wasn’t strong enough, her heart couldn’t hold out. Sister Hannah told me that as soon as she knew what was happening, she sat by Mother and completed the ascension ritual just for her, so she ascended before she died.” His eyes were dry but unfocused, staring at a spot on the carpet with his pupils blown out in the low light. He didn’t seem to notice that he’d slipped up and forgotten to use her cult name. “Sister Hannah didn’t even stay for the celebration with the other Elders. As soon as it happened she came and found me. She told me what had happened and that she’d seen in a vision that I was chosen to be her disciple, that we’d been given an assignment from Brother Robert and that we had to go immediately. There’s no time to waste in service to the Confederacy.”

(did she cry when she told you?)

(did she cry fake tears and make you disappear)

“Another accident.”

Daniel’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice, and it was like the world snapped back into focus for both of them. Kevin took a deep breath, shoving away the last screaming shreds of his panic --

(where is this compound is Brother Robert still alive how many acolytes are dead was I supposed to be one of them)

-- and forcing some level of bitter-tasting humor into his voice. “Sister Hannah’s real fuckin’ unlucky, isn’t she? Accidents follow her wherever she goes.”

Even as Daniel flinched, his eyes hardened. “Xemüg tries to interfere with the Confederacy’s work. The Ancient Ones can’t always protect us from the results of this battle.” The tone of his voice was his “stop arguing with me” tone, the one the was disdain mixed with irritation and just the slightest undertone of a deeply unsettling mania -- and it was that last one that kept Kevin up at night sometimes, that made him snap his mouth shut and let his visitor be just as crazy as he liked.

Because it was that tone that reminded him that Daniel was crazy. No matter how geeky and harmless he seemed lounging in Kevin’s piece of shit trailer with sweat slicking his hair to his face and smoke in the air around his head, there was something dark and twisted under there, a seed that was just waiting under the surface, hidden probably even from Daniel himself.

And that seed had a motherfucking name. “Will I have a weak heart too, do you think? Or is all this --” he gestured vaguely around them, “-- enough? Just another junkie who overdosed or killed himself because he ruined his life with impurities.”

“What on earth are you --”

“Because it can’t be ascension,” Kevin continued, feeling the panic start to push at him again like hands squeezing his skull, “since I’m not a good enough sheep for ascension, right? Good ol’ Sister Jones can’t worry about me not drinking the kool-aid when she’ll have her hands full convincing you that it’s all for the best when all fifteen recovering drunks at their graduation party drop dead.”

Daniel sat up fully, concern sharpening his face. To anyone looking into the trailer from outside, he’d look like the sane one. “You’re not making any --”

“But she knows I’ve heard aaalll about Xemüg!” There were so many things Kevin should be doing, from calling the police to running for his life to grabbing the little switchblade he kept in his pocket at all times. Anything but letting the words fall out of his mouth like they were, wild and uncontrolled in a dangerous slide from his brain to his tongue. “I’ve seen her face! I’ve seen your face. I know there was a party and I’ll know why there aren’t two platinum-haired corpses -- does she make you bleach it, by the way? Is that part of the religion, or do you just want to be like mommy?”

And god, the look on his face at that, like Sister Hannah wouldn’t need to lift a finger to make him disappear, not if he kept talking.

Unfortunately, not knowing when to shut up was one of the many reasons Kevin’s life had taken the nosedive it had. “Hey, this girl from high school works at one of the camps on the lake. Used to be pretty good friends, back before . . . you know.” And again he waved an arm around them, less controlled this time. “Don’t remember her name, but I see her around. Got big purple eyes, kinda cute, few years younger than me. Not that you can tell -- it’s not like I’ve aged pretty,” he added. He felt strangely drunk; it’d been a long time since he’d felt anything resembling this kind of sickening, brain-freezing fear, and he had a suspicion he wasn’t handling it very well. “If you end up seeing her, tell her Dirty Kevin says hi. And that he’s real sorry about all the dead she’s gonna be, but odds are I’ll already be in hell.”

Daniel scrambled to his feet, holding out his hands like Kevin was flinging a gun around. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to hurt you!”

“Oh yeah?” he cried, aware that he needed to drop his voice before one of his neighbors called the cops but unable to translate that information into action. (And fuck, if they called the police it’d save him a phone call, right? Because that was what a sane person would do, and Dirty Kevin was a lot of things but he straight-up fucking refused to be crazy.) “What if Xemüg tells you to, huh?”

“We don’t worship Xemüg, so it wouldn’t matter if -- that’s not the point!” he snarled, taking a step forward; Kevin immediately sank further into his chair, pressing back against it like the pot-reeking cushions would absorb him. “In the name of the Ancients -- why don’t you just see, then? Come to the ceremony and admit that this -- all of this -- is ludicrous!”

“Fine!”

The shout startled them both into silence, and for a few long seconds they just stared at each other, wide-eyed and breathing hard.

This is an excellent way to get yourself killed, Kev.

He gulped for air, wishing he still had his inhaler from high school. “Fine,” he said again, quieter and surprisingly calm. “Didn’t think they’d let you bring a date, but what the hell. Maybe I can sweet-talk Sister Hannah into making me one of those Acolytes you were talking about.”

His father was absolutely right: he had the brains of a goddamn chipmunk, without any of the self-preservation instinct. But fuck, maybe he could stop a mass homicide, be the town hero. He could use the goodwill, considering the legal trouble he occasionally found himself in. He’d be like some kind of vigilante criminal, like Batman without the money or the costume or the abs.

Who was he kidding?

He’d just signed his death warrant.

[rex101111]

Punching in the Right Direction-chapter 1:

Another fic! :D And this time one with more then one chapter hopefully! Got this idea a while back during a conversation with @hatefilledpoptarts and I thought it was cool, but my computer dying almost cost me the whole thing, but thankfully I was able to retrieve it! (along with a bunch of other stuff) So! Here’s a thing I hope you like it!

In a police station in Shibuya, a very tired man is hunching over the front desk, his forehead pressed to the polished wood and his cap to the side of him, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck while the other hung behind the face of the desk.

The day was long, tedious to the point of tears, and more than anything else, uneventful. No stray pickpocket being dragged kicking and screaming to be written up and thrown in a cell for a month, no big busts or emergencies to speak of involving any more huge villain outbreaks, and because of this continuous streak of nothing his superiors thought it would be a good idea for him to spend the copious amount of time he had to sort through a veritable mountain of overdue paperwork from around the station that have built up over the last few months.

On the one hand he privately considered it tantamount to torture, but on the other he couldn’t help but be a bit grateful that something like what happened in the Kamino ward wasn’t plowing through the station, give and take.

He had just finished about half an hour ago, with the help of a few friendly civilian workers and more than a few near screams of frustration, and his shift would end an hour after that, so right now all he wanted was for the day to continue being a bore for just that long so he wouldn’t have to add on overtime on top of that.

But, as these things tend to turn, a fairly muscle bound man decided that this was the perfect time to enter to enter the station, by way of kicking the door open, and make the day just a bit more eventful.

He was large in every sense of the word; he was at least seven feet tall, broad shouldered with arms like raw iron pipes and legs like tree trunks, muscles seeming to bulge on every surface visible to the eye, and there was plenty to see considering he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and as soon as he entered the station his presence seemed to fill the whole room.

The fact that his entrance had every single officer in the building pointing guns at him didn’t diminish how suffocating his simply being present had felt.

His myriad of flame red bruises and mildly bleeding cuts that covered his whole torso weren’t much help either.  

He looked back and forth between all the wary officers, pointedly ignoring their command to put his hands up as he scratched his almost comically square chin, grunting, “….So,” He started making every person in the room jump and making one policeman fire off a shoot, which sailed over the large man’s head without him even acknowledging it, “This is a police station yeah?”

Nobody answered him properly, only more demands for him to put his hands over his head.

He sighed, “Oh for fuck’s sake…” He turned around to look behind him, “Kid, you try talking to these bozos.”

Among the screaming of the officers, a tiny figure emerged from behind the man’s legs, her small stature being compounded by the immediate comparison to the muscle bound individual, and she peeked nervously at the people around her shouting, and found that she couldn’t gather the courage to speak.  

Not that she needed to, as soon enough people started noticing her, and how close she was standing to the intruder, some started quietly lowering their guns, a few others tried to beckon her closer to what they considered safety, only the tired policeman at the front desk, whose tired day slowed down his reaction considerably, was able to fully comprehend the situation.

Well, as much as can be gleaned about it anyway.

He cleared his throat, earning him the attention of both the police officers and the two visitors, “Can…can I…help you…sir?”

The man in question sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his head, “Fucking finally, someone who doesn’t want to kill me today,” He looked straight at the front desk, “Yeah! The name’s Kendo Rappa, I’m here to turn myself in!”

His announcement caused a great deal of confusion in the room, whoever didn’t lower their firearms already did so, and the front desk clerk was fairly stumped himself, but decided to roll with it, taking out the proper forms while nodding numbly, before something occurred to him, “Wait…what about the girl?”

“Oh?” He looked down at the girl, who was now clutching the fabric of his torn pants, the horn on the side of her head digging a bit into his sore leg as she clung to it, but he ignored that and just pointed down to her, “She’s Eri, she’s why I came here,” He gestured vaguely around the room, “Y’know, to turn myself in.”

The clerk nodded his head slowly, keeping his eyes on the girl as she seemed to keep to her position next to Rappa with no intention to budge, before returning his gaze to the man, “Alright, but what do you want us to do with her?”

Kendo opened his mouth, only to stop short to scratch at his chin again. He did this a few more times, unintentionally defusing what little tension there still was in the room before his just rubbed the back of his head, his face tired and a bit annoyed, “Shit…” He muttered between his teeth, just barely loud enough to be carried across the room, “I don’t fuckin’ know, didn’t think I’d make it this far.”

The clerk stares at him for a few long moments, before he takes out the rest of the forms needed for the processing of new inmates, already seeing the overtime he would need to punch in because of this, hoping the chief would see fit to send him home before it got too dark.

----

Of course, that there is only how our story begins to wrap up, so the question remains, what led up to it?

The short answer being that it started a few months before, miles away from the station, and miles more below the concrete of the bustling streets.

It started with Rappa, still wearing the heavy black mask that donated his position as one of the mighty Eight Expendables in service to the Eight Precepts, walking around the hallways of the base out of hair pulling boredom.

It started with Eri running into his legs at full tilt, the impact causing her to fall on her backside, her eyes shooting up to gaze up at this massive tower of muscle and blood lust that was Kendo Rappa, utter terror making her shake where she lays.

It started with Chisaki calmly catching up to her looking down on her with a gaze only fit for a lamb meant for slaughter, before raising his gaze to meet Rappa’s wilted mask, “Thank you Rappa, you just saved me a few hours chasing her down,” He leered back down at Eri, “Come Eri, enough messing around, we’ve things to do.”

It started with Rappa noticing how utterly desperate and afraid this girl is, how she gets up as slow as she can, shivering all the way up, to face Overhaul, slowly following him back with a lowered head.

It started with Eri throwing Rappa a look that was as loud as a shrill scream at the top of the lungs, seeming to beg for help.

It started with Rappa walking away, averting his eyes from the girl, the clenching in chest that he gets from her eyes pissing him off. He takes long, heavy strides, and just keeps going and going until he runs out of breath, an hour passing like nothing.

It starts a few moments afterward, when that clenching refused to go away, and the memory of the silently screaming look she gave him burning on the back of his eyelids.

----

Weeks pass, and in that time Rappa comes to a fairly belated discovery.

He doesn’t know a damned thing about Overhaul’s plan. Well, that wasn’t completely true, he knew a few snippets of it, some random details that together provided a fairly nebulous picture of the end goal of the Eight Precepts, but he doesn’t know enough, not enough to really be invested one way or another, not enough to inspire in him this burning loyalty that every other Expendable had for the bird faced prick.

There was one very simple reason for that, Rappa didn’t give a shit. Not about the Precepts, not about Overhaul, not about whatever lofty dream they were all supposedly chasing. Not one, single, solitary shit.

At least…he wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t there to serve at the pleasure of some germaphobe who was looking to bring back the “glory days of the Yakuza”, he was there to punch a dude’s teeth in, kill him, and then kill anyone who tried to stop him while he was on his way out, that was the plan, his plan, and it was a damned good one as far as he saw it.

Or at least it was a few months ago when he “joined” the Precepts, now he was beginning to realize he should have thought about it more.

Headache inducing hindsight aside, the fact was Rappa was stuck; the one person who he wanted to kill in this entire place only gave him a chance at him rarely, and always on his terms, and he was surrounded by a bunch of morons who thought this asshole with a beak stuck to his face was the bloody second coming, and took every opportunity to remind him of that whenever he dared to do something as audacious as speaking his mind.

All this put together piqued his curiosity a bit, but never enough to make him actually care to ask exactly what it was Overhaul planned to do.

And then he ran into a scared little girl, and now Rappa couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop wondering what the hell this girl had to do with anything, why Overhaul himself seemed to grant his undivided attention to her.

Couldn’t stop wondering why she was so damned scared.

To his infinite frustration, Kendo started giving a shit, and as most things tend to do, it pissed him off.

So he did what he always did when he was pissed off, he looked for something, or more preferably someone, to punch. Today, that person was Tengai.

“Think fast asshole!”

A series of bellowing crashes bounced around the room, random grunts still fresh to the Precepts fleeing from the sound as quickly as they could, a few veterans only speeding up their stride a bit to gain some distance, Rappa was known for his temper, so this was not an uncommon sight by any means, but that didn’t diminish the spectacle of Rappa throwing a hail of lightning fast strikes towards one of their own, the impacts shaking the concrete walls of the complex like a dozen canons going off at once for each hit.

The barrier monk noted that Rappa was especially pissed today, seeing that he was putting considerably more force into his strikes than usual, even throwing a few curse words between the punches, he raised his brow as he saw the maniac start to breathe heavily and just keep punching, like he was trying to work something else out besides his temper.

He calmly put down the book he was reading, looking straight at Rappa, silently putting his palms together as he spoke up, “Feeling stressed today Rappa?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Kendo screamed, throwing a particularly harsh punch smashing into the monk’s barrier, “Ain’t in the mood for your pseudo-Buddha bullshit!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Tengai observed, “Though that would invite the question of why you’re so stressed?”

“I said shut up!”

The barrage continued for another few minutes, the raging man slowly winding down until his fists hung limply at his sides, a few droplets of blood seeping through his gloves, and Tengai spoke up again, “Whatever it is, it must be fairly serious, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this riled up before.”

Rappa breathed heavily for a few more moments, before slumping down a nearby wall, making a point of not looking at Tengai, “Nothin’, just been a shitty couple of weeks.”

Tengai only raised his eyebrows at that, “You just spent the last ten minutes pounding away at my barrier while screaming your head off,” He said, tone even and unimpressed, “I think ‘shitty’ would be putting it lightly.

Rappa didn’t respond, only continued to look at the wall ahead of him, only caring to put his breathing back in order.

Tengai sighed, picking up his book again, “Fine,” He muttered easily, “Keep sulking like a child if that’s what you want to do,” He flipped pages until he came back to where he was before, “No skin off my back.”

They’re quiet for a long moment, motes of dust floating in the air and tiny chunks from the ceiling falling around them, either bouncing off Tengai’s shield or swatted away by Rappa’s hands. For that long moment, Rappa only stared ahead at the wall, before finally breaking the silence with a shake of the head, “Met a girl a few weeks back.”

Tengai didn’t even lift his eyes from the page he was on, “How sweet.”

“A little girl.”

“How disgusting.”

Rappa whipped his head towards the monk and rapped the back of his knuckles on his shield, “Not like that you jackass!” He huffed while he flexed his sore fingers, “In the base I mean, a little girl with white hair and a horn sticking out the side of her head running around, you know her?”

This time Tengai did lift his eyes to meet Rappa, looking slightly alarmed, “Of course I know her, that’s Eri!” He put the book down again without bothering to mark his page, “What was she doing running around?”

Kendo shrugged, “Fuck if I know, looked pretty scared though,” He scratched his chin, “Was even more scared when Overhole caught up to her and took her some place, ”He looked more intently at Tengai, who breathed in relief when he mention the girl being taken, “What’s his deal with her anyway? She his daughter or something?”

Tengai blinked, and gave Rappa a look of utter amazement, “Do you ever pay attention to anything?”

Another strike crashed against the invisible shield, “Do you want a broken jaw?”

A long suffering sigh escaped Tengai, “Eri isn’t his child…though she is important to him,” He looked straight into the eyes of Rappa’s mask, “In fact; she is the very cornerstone on which he is building his plans.”

Rappa paused, choking down his reflex to call out Tengai on bullshitting him, “The hell are you talking about?”

Tengai began to speak more passionately, as the rest of the Expendables tended to do when discussing anything having to do with Overhaul, “Overhaul has made a wondrous discovery in Eri, within her lays a quirk that will serve as the lynchpin of the ascension of the Precepts to the top of the criminal world.”

Rappa couldn’t hold it in, laughter shaking him as Tengai’s speech went on, only to burst when he mentioned her quirk, “Okay, now I know you’re full of crap.” He shook his head, thinking back to when he met Eri, “The kid I met was a spindly little twig,” With eyes so desperate he still can’t forget them, he fails to mention, “What? Can she make nukes out of her tears or some shit?”

Tengai visibly deflates at the sound of Rappa’s mocking and laughter, huffing as he narrows his eyes at him, “Nothing quite so crude…although,” He picks up his book again, tiring of Rappa, “I think it’s fair to say that she has the most powerful quirk in the world.”

Rappa clicked his tongue, “Full of shit, no way, no way that a kid that-“ (scared, tired, small) “-weak can have a quirk that damn strong.”  

Tengai just keeps on reading, his generosity regarding his attention and time having apparently run out, even making a point of making a shooing motion with one of his hands as he turned a page.

Rappa stares at him for a moment, huffs, and throws one more punch his way before stomping his way out.

The nagging feeling in his chest morphs and shifts, becoming an itch on the back of his head.

No helping it now, if he’s already giving a shit, might as well scratch it.

-----

Chisaki Kai sits at his desk inside his personal office, looking over various files, his eyes roaming across the pages slowly and carefully.

Recent purchases of “Trigger”, info on new recruits, and most importantly of all, developments in regards to his most important project. He scans the information on those pages far more carefully than even the others, making sure he commits to memory what has been discovered so far and the progress yet to be made.

As he formed his actions for the rest of the day regarding that progress in his head, he hears a commotion outside his door.

“Get out of my way, need to talk to Overho. “

“Rappa you can’t just-“

“Out of my way.”

“Overhaul is too busy right-“

“I said-“

Overhaul knocked on the metal surface of his table twice, stopping the noise, “Come in Rappa.”

A moment passes, his guard shuffling out of the way as Rappa nearly knocked the door of its hinges as he opened it, peering down the beak of his mask at his so called "boss." He could see Chronostasis lean forward to look inside, one of his hands twitching near his gun.

Chisaki shifted his eyes slightly in his direction, which made him stiffen in place before leaning back away from view. He then shifted his eyes back up to look at Rappa, who had still not said a word since he entered, which was strange in every sense, considering his temperament.

"Can I help you Rappa?"

"The fuck are you planning?"

….well, this could be interesting.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The language of a kiss

Title: The language of a kiss Summary: There are so many different ways to share a kiss with someone. Here is a story about 11 ways I know. Characters: Bucky x Steve

Warnings: Language, violence. Angst, because what else would you expect here, and a smattering of fluff to round it out.

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write something about Bucky and Steve for a long time, but couldn’t figure out what, mostly because I find the relationship so complicated and epic and never felt like I could do it justice. And then I said screw it and tried anyway, so here’s an attempt.

Also tagged a couple other people I thought might enjoy, hope that that’s okay.

MASTERLIST

What is a kiss? If you ask that question, most will define it in a traditional sense. The exchange of warm breath, the delicate tap of teeth, the intoxicating feel of lips moving together. That’s one definition, and it’s lovely. But that’s too easy.

Here’s the real truth. There is no answer. There is only an infinite multitude of expressions, variations of words and actions and touches. Every kiss is new, every kiss is unique. And most of the time? You will never even notice.

*****

The first realisation kiss The one that’s the beginning of everything. You never see it coming.

Steve Rogers is the first to admit, sometimes he makes stupid decisions. Like today, when he drops his lunch on the sidewalk and launches fists first at the sneering face in front of him. He feels the satisfying crunch of cartilage when he makes contact with a nose, and he revels in the pained howl that follows.

What he isn’t prepared for, is the upper cut that catches him under the chin, toppling him backward. He lands with a thump, rolls to his feet with a growl and raises his hands, eager for another bout. But as usual, it proves unnecessary.

“Get the hell out of here you piece of shit, pick on someone your own size.”

Bucky Barnes already has both hands wrapped in the boy’s shirt, and with a rough twist, slams him to the ground. The kid knows better than to fight back, he’s been on the receiving end of Bucky’s furious swings in the past, and it never ended well. As soon as he struggles to his feet, he’s flying in the opposite direction.

Bucky watches with a contemptuous smirk, before he turns back to Steve.

“Jesus Stevie, it’s the second time this week. And it’s Tuesday. Can you at least stop doing it over lunch, so we can eat in peace?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Brushing the dirt from his knees, Steve spins around to search for his lunch, only to find it’s been trampled in the scuffle.

“Serves you right, you god damn punk.” Bucky mumbles, snatching his own bag from the ground, giving him a small shove.

Steve hops up on the low stone fence next to the park, and shoots him a grin, rubbing his jaw ruefully, feeling the bruise already blossoming. Bucky leans next to him, and opens his paper bag with a sigh, pulling out a bologna sandwich and carefully tearing it in half. When he extends it, Steve has the good grace to look sheepish, before gratefully accepting.

They chew in silence for a few minutes, before Steve swallows and turns to speak, intent on spilling his side of the story. Bucky listens patiently, taking in the blond hair sticking in every direction, the top button of his shirt hanging by a thread, the self-righteous tremor in his voice, the dab of butter smeared yellow on his face. He wants to give him a piece of his mind, but is well aware the futility in lecturing Steve Rogers. Instead, he simply reaches a thumb forward, scraping the butter off the tip of Steve’s freckled nose.

“You’re a fucking mess Rogers. Don’t know how you’d get along without me.”

Steve looks surprised for a moment, his eyes glancing down when he watches Bucky wipe the butter on his trousers. His feels his breath hitch. His heart skips a beat.

*****

The hesitant kiss It’s so often unsure and unrecognised. Testing the waters with whispered words or cautious actions, because you can’t find the courage in your heart to press further. Both waiting for the other to move first, neither realising what the other wants.

“You could’ve stayed you know, I’m able to get myself home, thanks very much.”

The words are drunk and sloppy, and Steve trips on the curb in front of their apartment, arms cartwheeling as he pitches forward. Bucky’s reflexes are quick, looping an arm around his waist before Steve face-plants on the concrete.

“Yeah buddy, I know, but I wanted to go. You gave me a good excuse.”

Opening the front door of their building, Bucky ushers Steve through, fingers firm on his elbow to avoid any further catastrophe. Pausing in the entry way, Bucky stifles a groan as he looks toward the ceiling. Dragging a drunk and combative Steve Rogers up three flights of stairs is like herding cats.

Impossible and infuriating, because Steve Rogers is an asshole sometimes. 

Steeling himself for an argument, he turns to find Steve swaying rather dramatically, squinting at him with one bleary eye, and he decides to hell with it. Taking Steve’s arm, he swings it over his shoulder and with a grunt, lifts him into a fireman’s hold.

“God dammit Bucky, put me the fuck down you fucking fuck, I’m FINE.” Steve’s voice is muffled against Bucky’s arm, and he gives a halfhearted kick before going slack.  

“Yeah I’m sure you are, I just really wanna reach my fucking bed before the sun rises.”

Bucky takes the steps slowly, careful to avoid banging Steve’s head into the banister. He can hear him still mumbling into the sleeve of his jacket, a string of colourful curses that would sound more appropriate in a whorehouse, rather than their quiet little apartment building.

“Christ, where do you even learn these words? If your Ma could hear you right now, she’d slap you upside the head.” Bucky huffs. There’s a pause, and the curses continue, softer now, but filthy nonetheless.

When he arrives on their landing, Bucky reaches to dig the key out of Steve’s back pocket, earning himself a weak punch.

“Jesus, at least buy me dinner first, damn,” comes the slurred response. Bucky snorts, his shoulders shaking with laughter, and Steve lets out a groan when the movement rattles his head.

Finally staggering through their front door, Bucky kicks it shut behind him, and trips into the bedroom. Steve lands with a soft bounce on the bed and immediately snags his pillow, curling into a tight ball. Bucky unlaces his boots and yanks them off his feet, scratching his fingers through his dark hair, debating the struggle of getting Steve into night-clothes. When he hears the quiet snore, he decides against it. Steve doesn’t weigh much, but he somehow turns into complete dead-weight once his head hits the pillow, and experience has taught Bucky it’s never worth the fight.

He’s turning away, when he hears the words.

“Stay.” It’s so soft, Bucky thinks he hasn’t heard correctly. “Stay with me, Bucky. Just with me.”

Bucky’s heart stops, unable to process the words he’s secretly ached for so desperately, for so many years. Steve rolls over, and Bucky holds his breath.

But he’s fast asleep, his face burrowed in the pillow he’s clutching tightly.

Bending to smooth the blond hair from his face, Bucky’s hand lingers. For just a moment, he allows himself the freedom to think on his deepest secret, and he leans to drop a light kiss on Steve’s temple.

And then he turns away, heart heavy in his chest, seeking the cold comfort of his own bed.

At the sound of retreating footsteps, Steve opens his eyes with a small sigh.

*****

The leaving kiss

It’s found in longing looks and measured pauses, when the undercurrent of emotion is so thick in your chest, you can barely breathe to speak. It is a common product of war. 

“Just be careful. Don’t – don’t try to be a hero, just keep your ass safe until I get there.” Steve pushes his hair from his face, grinning slightly at the irony of a safety lecture coming from him.

“Nah, I live a charmed life Stevie, don’t you worry about me. Be finished so quick, it’ll be over before you get there.” Bucky’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, concentrating on the contrast between his shiny boots and the rough wooden planks of the dock, unable to look Steve in the face.

He’s afraid if he looks, he may never stop.

“Buck.” Steve’s voice is quiet. When Bucky finally raises his eyes, he hopes against hell that Steve doesn’t recognise the panic in his face. He could care less who sees it once he’s on that ship, but he won’t let Steve see how much he’s dreading this.

Steve is watching him calmly, his eyes a perfectly clear sky blue, and Bucky knows with certainty he could drown in them if he allows himself the time. His heart clenches, and for one brief second, he does the unthinkable. He lets his guard down, every raw emotion flooding his features.

Fear. Longing. Panic. Love.

There’s an imperceptible nod from Steve before he’s wrapping him in a tight hug, and Bucky exhales a harsh breath and clings tight, giving himself up to the only comfort he ever needs.

They remain locked together for longer than is probably appropriate, but neither cares. When the shrill screech of the whistle finally sounds, it cleaves them in two and they hastily separate, four red cheeks and two racing hearts.

Without another word, Bucky turns to leave, and Steve feels his heart sink when he sees it.

Whenever Bucky Barnes walks, there is always a lightness, a graceful spring in his step that Steve has always admired, but today it’s gone. He walks up the gangplank as though headed to his own execution.

And this is the thing no one can ever predict about war. Perhaps he is.

He pauses at the top, and squares his shoulders. When he turns to face Steve one last time, he looks like himself once more, gifting Steve with one last flash of his trademark grin, adding a smart salute to complete the picture, before he disappears.

The waves are slamming against the side of the ship, white caps of foam dancing in the thrashing water of the harbour. Bucky stands on the upper deck, resting his forearms on the ship rail, and watching Steve grow smaller. His hand is raised in farewell, and he can see Steve imitating the gesture. Both keep their eyes trained on the other, until there’s nothing left to see.

*****

The reassurance kiss

It burns with comfort and familiarity, achingly intimate because it had seemed lost forever. It’s a touch that will reassure, without words, the promise that you will never, ever let go.

Steve hears the dull muttering, the slow whisper of a broken voice, before he sees his face. Following the sound, he identifies the numbers as they echo off cold concrete walls, the words drawing him closer, a moth to a flame. He knows the numbers. Sometimes he whispers them to fall asleep at night.

Rushing into the empty room, he experiences a moment of clarity, when he discovers how closely heaven and hell are truly linked. The hot relief of finding Bucky alive scorches his heart. But it is quickly tempered by an icy horror that freezes his lungs.

“Barnes…Sergeant…32557038… Barnes…Sergeant…32557038, 3255…” Unaware of his saviour’s presence, Bucky continues his flat repetition, the words falling unconsciously from his lips again and again.

Pausing at the table, Steve stares down, feeling his heart sink to his stomach. Strapped securely to a table, Bucky is drenched in sweat, his face a patchwork of purple and black bruises, his lips cracked and bleeding, and his beautiful blue eyes slide back and forth, refusing to focus.

Steve believed he knew the meaning and the feeling of anger. But in this moment, my god, was he so very wrong.

There is a new appreciation for the word and for the first time in his life, he truly feels it. The edges of his vision are tinged with red, rage bubbling white hot in his brain, and he knows with absolute certainty, if he finds those responsible, he will tear them limb from fucking limb.

Forcing himself to concentrate, his hands easily snap the straps holding Bucky down, and ever so gently, completely at odds with the fury of his thoughts, he curls his arms under Bucky’s shoulders and slowly helps him to stand.

“I’m here Buck, I got you. Stay with me, I’m here.”

When Bucky’s legs give out, Steve folds him tightly in his arms. Bucky is silent and stiff at the close contact, but when he finally realises whose arms encircle him, every ounce of fight leaves his body. He twines his arms around Steve, shaking fingers clutching at his leather jacket, and he buries his face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent with a choking sob.

The world is screaming around them now, exploding in startling bursts of orange and blue flame. While the fire and ash rain down, they remain in their silent embrace, lost in the realisation that they’ve found each other again.

*****

The early morning kiss

When there’s no one but the two of you, it’s found in that quiet hour of the night, right before the dawn. It comes with gentle moments of reflection, the tangle of thoughts and fingers, and the idea that perhaps the sum of being together exceeds the individual parts.

Bucky never wanted anything to change about Steve. He believed with every inch of his heart, every last drop of his soul, that Steve Rogers was perfect the way he was. His fast temper, his slight body, his smart mouth, his massive heart.

But admittedly, there are times when Bucky appreciates his new height.

Like now. They’re leaning back to back, much as they had done as kids, and there’s a certain relief in slouching against someone who is so solidly, comfortably durable.

Bucky looks up at the night sky, his head resting contentedly against Steve’s. Both are in desperate need of a haircut, and when the breeze floats through the campsite, it lifts the light and dark strands, tugging and tangling them together.

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Bucky relishes the instant lethargy the smoke brings, and he gazes at the starlit sky, appreciating the vastness in front of him. There’s an ironic symmetry he thinks, as he contemplates how small his life is, compared to how enormously he feels for the man behind him.

And if he could delve into Steve’s head, Bucky would find his thoughts wandering an identical path.

Steve is thinking about his life so far, and what has led him here, and ruminating on the idea that everything he has and everything he is, is tied up in some way with Bucky. He wonders to himself if Bucky realises the same, because he thinks about it every single day.

When Steve taps his arm, Bucky passes him the cigarette without a word, and Steve slips it between his lips. His brain is whirling, trying to shape his thoughts into something he can vocalise.

“Buck?”

Bucky waits a full minute before he answers, savouring the low sound of Steve’s voice. His throat works several times before he can respond. “Yeah?”

“You ever think – well, we’ve known each other a long time.” Steve passes the cigarette back to Bucky, who examines the tip, before taking another slow drag.

“Sure. Been pullin’ your ass outta shit long as I can remember.”

“Yeah well, guess I owe you a few.”

“Don’t worry, I keep a scorecard in my jacket. Update it every day.”

“You’re a real jerk.” Steve tips his head back, knocking it against Bucky’s.

“Punk.”

Bucky takes a final drag, and flicks the smoke away with a small smile. They stay seated in silence, watching as the stars disappear and the red streaks of dawn bleed into the horizon.

*****

The distraction kiss

This one is more selfless than any other. It screams to take away the other’s pain, to distract from the moment, to help them forget.

When a bullet hits flesh, there’s a moment of suspension, when the victim doesn’t realise what’s happened. Bucky is unaware he’s been hit, until he feels the warmth spreading down his left arm, and looks down in surprise to see a slowly spreading stain on his blue jacket, right above his clavicle. In the next instant, his knees give out and he hits the ground hard, his shoulder absorbing the impact and dislocating instantly with a snap. The scream explodes from his throat before he can stop.

There’s a flurry of voices, and Morita is leaning over him, comfortingly calm, his movements smooth and methodical. 

“Get behind him Cap, you’ll have to hold him. It’ll hurt like a motherfucker.”

Steve is as far from calm as one can get, he feels the waves of panic breaking and cresting over him, but he scrambles to follow the instructions. Gingerly lifting Bucky’s torso so he can settle behind him, Steve presses his chest to Bucky’s back, flinching at the agonised moan Bucky can’t contain.

“Sarge, listen to me, I need you to stay quiet, you can’t – Cap, you gotta hold him down – I don’t know who else is nearby.”

Steve can hear a tinge of anxiety in Morita’s voice, and suddenly it’s enough to shock him back to sanity. Bucky is writhing on the ground, so Steve wraps his legs around him, hooking his feet over Bucky’s thighs to pin him down.

“Good, now get something between his teeth, I don’t want him chewing through his fucking tongue.”

The canvas strap from his water canteen is pushed into Steve’s shaking hands, and at a whispered coax, Bucky unclenches his teeth long enough to bite down on the coarse fabric.

The fingers of his right hand are scrabbling unconsciously into the mud beneath him, searching for purchase, for anything to hold, and Steve reaches down to grasp his hand, pulling it from the blood-soaked earth, and weaving their fingers together. He folds their joined arms tight across Bucky’s chest, holding him closer than he’s ever done in his life.

“Hey now, I’m here, I got you. You’re gonna be fine, this is nothin’ at all. You know you gotta stay quiet, so you squeeze my hand instead, do it hard as you can, lemme see what you got Buck.” 

Steve rests his chin on Bucky’s shoulder, and his voice is steady as he murmurs in his ear, a stark contrast to the terror he feels.

“We’re out of fucking morphine, I’ll try to be fast.” Morita is apologetic, but professional, and at Steve’s nod, he slices open the jacket and begins digging into the flesh to find the bullet. Bucky makes no sound, but the tears are a thick, steady stream flowing down his face. His entire body jerks and spasms while Morita keeps searching, and it takes all he has for Steve to hold him down.

So he begins to talk. Babbling nonsense and memories, he searches for words of comfort, a desperate attempt at distraction whispered for Bucky alone.

“You remember when we were kids, we always said we could smell snow coming, ‘specially at Christmas, said the air tasted like metal and oranges…you still owe me dance lessons, you know I’m God fucking awful, and you promised to teach me…fuck, that time you dropped a bucket of motor oil down your shirt, Jesus you smelled like dirt and pine needles for days, the whole apartment reeked…you know I’m still the better poker player, we get home, we’ll head to the bars, try our luck at hustling, what do you say…”

It feels as though lifetimes have passed, before there’s a final wash of the wound, and the cleanest bandage they can find is put in place.

“I’m almost done, it’s almost over.” Morita is wiping his hands on his shirt, and Steve feels nauseous when he sees the dark streaks of Bucky’s blood coating the fabric. “His shoulder’s gotta go back in, sit him up, hold him tight. I’ll count from three, make it quick. Ready, three - ” he doesn’t finish, snapping the shoulder forward, wincing at sound of Bucky’s strangled sob.  

Steve is still clutching his hand, when Bucky weakly turns his tear-filled eyes to Steve’s and gives him a shaky nod. Before Steve can utter a word, Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head and he passes out.

*****

The aching kiss

When you’re close, when you’re so incredibly close, to voicing your feelings, but you fall short. It’s the kiss that screams the loudest, but is never heard.

The wind is still warm, even for September. The first fingers of Fall were appearing, splotches of rusty red and golden yellow lining the leaves of the forest. The spells of relaxation between fighting were getting shorter and shorter, the war looming ahead like an unending novel. Every time a battle was won, it seemed two more chapters were added to their story.

When a moment of rest finally arrives, the Commandos don’t hesitate. Dumping gear in a clearing, there’s a collective groan of relief from the entire unit, as everyone collapses to the ground, basking in the glow of a 12-hour break.

“There’s a lake nearby and I want a god damn bath. I smell like shit.” Bucky announces, digging in his pack for a semi-clean change of clothes, and the small piece of parchment paper holding his dwindling chunk of soap.

Steve runs a grimy hand down his face, trying to scrub the exhaustion from his eyes. “Me too.”

Waving off their Captain and Sergeant, eyes are already closing as the men happily fall comatose on the leaf strewn ground.

When he reaches the shore, Bucky drops everything in a messy pile at the edge of the lake. Bending to unlace his boots, he kicks them away and yanks off his thick socks, groaning with pleasure at the feel of the damp grass on his aching feet. Eager for the water, he pulls his shirt over his head, quickly unclips the leather belt, and sheds his trousers and underwear in one movement. Pausing to let the breeze wrap around his body, he scratches absently at the small pink scar from his bullet wound, a reminder no larger than a nickel. It healed shockingly fast. Something he prefers not to think about.

Wading into the water, he tips his head back and shouts a loud “Fuck!” to the blue sky, the icy temperature hitting him like a slap to the face, but he splashes forward anyway, submerging his entire body. He doesn’t come up right away, letting himself float for a time, content with the deep silence the water provides. When he finally emerges, he looks back at Steve’s scream of “Shit!” as he ducks under the clear water, and Bucky’s laughter rings out at the sight, reflecting off the glassy surface of the lake like sunshine transformed to sound.

They let the sun traipse slowly through the sky, taking the afternoon to trade stories and dirty jokes, reminiscing about times before the war, talking about the first things they plan to do when they get home. Bucky wants a cold beer and a box of Cracker Jacks and a scorching hot afternoon at a Dodgers game. Steve wants a steak and to sit on their fire escape and watch the sun go down.

Neither of them needs to state the fact, but each knows their plans involve the other.

Bucky’s can’t help himself, his eyes coming to Steve again and again, still baffled by the change. The way he moves is different, more careful and cautious, like he’s still unsure how to manoeuvre his newly large limbs. But while he looks different, Bucky takes enormous comfort in the fact that everything else about Steve is exactly the same. He was always a confident, self-righteous shit, even when he was the scrawniest kid in school, but he’s no longer reliant on Bucky to back him up when he shoots his mouth off or runs fists first into a fight.

Not that it makes a damn bit of difference. Bucky Barnes will follow Steve Rogers into the darkest corners of hell and beyond. That will never change.

Hours later they’re spent and refreshed, glad for one calm day amid the frenetic chaos that makes up their lives. When they reach the bank, both dress quickly, shivering as the cool evening air sets in, and Bucky feels his heart give a tiny flip when he notices for the first time the hints of red in the golden scruff that covers Steve’s face. It throws him for a loop.

They’ve collected everything and turned for camp, when Bucky catches a glint of metal lying in the grass, and reaches to find Steve’s dog tags.

“Surprised these aren’t red, white, and fucking blue, they gave you plain old metal?”

His arms are full of dirty clothes, but Steve still manages to flip him off with a grin. Bucky moves to hand him the tags, but Steve bows his head so Bucky can drop them around his neck instead. He hesitates when he sees the pale, smooth skin on the back of Steve’s neck, and in that moment, he opens his mouth to say it, to tell him.

And he closes it.

He licks his lips, and tries again. Nothing happens.

With a silent sigh, he settles the tags around his best friend’s neck, and gives him a slap on the shoulder.

“Let’s go see about supper.”

*****

The goodbye kiss

So many people never get this kiss. Sometimes it’s only a cold blue inch between catching and falling. It’s the most painful kiss in any life, all because of numbers. A thousand smiles you will never witness. A million things you should have said. An infinite number of regrets.

“I had him on the ropes.”

“I know you did.”

Steve is clinging to the train door, the snowy wind howling around him. The panic is clawing its way up his chest, and Steve could vomit at the fear. He shoves it down, moving cautiously along the busted doorframe, searching for footholds along the way.

Bucky is looking up at him, blatant terror in his eyes as the metal bar cracks further. This fear, it is something new, one he has never experienced. When a soldier sprints across a battlefield or throws himself knife first into a fight, the adrenaline is different. He doesn’t need to think, he only needs to act, and every split-second decision guides him down a path, whether right or wrong. Wartime bravery is an art-form, one Bucky has perfected over the years.

But now? Hanging onto a metal bar above a thousand-foot drop, watching it slowly crack while you wait for the inevitable? This is an altogether different bravery. But beneath his fear, Bucky feels an odd sense of calm, because if there’s anyone on this planet who can save him, he knows it’s Steve Rogers.

Steve has found his footing, and is clutching the door-frame and leaning down, stretching his fingers as far as they can reach, and he shouts into the wind.

“Reach Buck! Come on, I’ll get you, I got you. Stay with me, I swear to God, I’m not letting go.”

Their fingers are so close, and there’s a moment of stillness when Steve swears he can feel the warmth of Bucky’s fingers through his gloves. And in the next instant, it’s gone, the warmth replaced by a silent gust of wind, and Steve can do nothing but watch the dark hair and blue eyes of his beating heart plummet to the frozen river below, the terrified screams echoing off the barren rocks of the mountainside.

The scene will replay in his mind for the rest of his life, a perpetual loop of heartbreak from which he can never hope to recover. Steve will spend years parsing apart these brief moments again and again, reviewing the smallest details he could have changed, to alter the course of his life. It is his greatest regret.

He could have reached further.

He could have been faster.

What is the worth of Captain America, if he couldn’t even save the one thing he loved above everything else in this world?

*****

The remember me kiss

Pain and bruises, kicks and punches. A snap of a broken arm, a bullet embedded in flesh. When you keep fighting for the words to bring them back, and you’re met with hate. You will think twice when you see the emotion, knowing it is nothing more than a coping mechanism. Hate lives next to love, varied shades on a complementary colour palette.

The Soldier can feel it in every hit, every snap of bone, he’s swinging for a reason, one he thinks he understands.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. God dammit, you know me, Bucky. You’ve known me your whole life!”

The blond man, Captain America, is standing resolutely in front of him. He won’t back down, and the Soldier can’t understand why. Holding his broken arm close to his body, he screams with fury, launching himself forward again, his silver arm smashing into the Captain’s face with a sickening crunch. Knocking him off balance, the Soldier rams his shoulder forward again, and when they topple together, he finds himself straddling the man’s hips.

He can feel tears of panic choking his throat, and the emotion is so completely foreign to him, he doesn’t understand what’s happening when he feels the tears run down his face. His fist slams down again and again, and he sees the blood running thick and red, sees the lip split in half, sees an eye socket battered and swollen shut. The man is doing nothing to shield himself, and it sends the Soldier into a frenzy.

“Fight back!” he hisses furiously, slamming the man into the glass. “Fucking fight back!”

And then the other eye opens, a brilliant sky-blue looking beseechingly up at him, and for a moment the Soldier pauses, his fist hanging in the air. Tilting his head at the faintest flicker of a memory dancing in his brain.

“No. I’m here Bucky, not leaving, I’m staying here. You and me, god dammit, it’s you and me. Till the end of the line.”

His eyes widen in fear at the words, his breath comes now in short, harsh rushes. The Soldier fades to the background, and suddenly it’s Bucky Barnes who is hesitating, his fist held aloft. The words slam into him, reverberating through his consciousness and in a flash, cracked fragments of another reality come flooding back.

Cigarette smoke and a star-strewn sky, the taste of blood and canvas on his tongue, the feel of butter on his fingers, the sparkle of water dripping from blond hair.

“Who - ” the words are still in his mouth, he can taste the question, when the floor gives way and they plunge together into the water below.

*****

The welcome home kiss

When the earth has stopped shaking, and life has come full circle, this is the kiss that wipes away all the pain and suffering. It is both forgiveness and acceptance, from a deep-rooted desire to prove that together is the best way forward.

Bucky’s fingers are locked around the thick straps of his backpack. He hasn’t let it out of his sight for so long now, it’s almost like an extra appendage. Everything he owns, everything he remembers, is tucked neatly inside the black canvas, and he’s wary of the ensuing anxiety attack if it’s out of sight for too long.

Steve is watching him carefully, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. They’re standing in his small apartment, Bucky staring at the floor, Steve staring at Bucky. He would give anything right now to wrap his arms around him, but he understands the hesitancy. He knows it’s not personal. He keeps his voice low and soothing, trying desperately to convey his emotions in the simplest words.

“It’s – the place, it isn’t very big, but there’s plenty of room. You can stay here as long as you need. I mean, you know, as long as you want. If you want. You don’t have to leave. You never have to leave.”

Steve knows he’s rambling, he can’t help himself. Bucky is taking deep breaths, his shoulders rising and releasing, and he struggles to ground himself in the here and now. He feels frustrated and helpless in a way that is all too familiar, someone out of place and out of time.

“Stay. Stay with me Bucky. Just with me.” Bucky looks up in surprise when he hears the words, a flash of remembrance tickling his brain. “I meant it then. I mean it now. Please.” Steve is whispering, his fists clenched at his side. He wants to reach for him, but he doesn’t want to make a wrong move. How maddening to feel this way, with Bucky of all people, his other half, the one who could mirror his every movement, conscious and unconscious.

Bucky sweeps his gaze around the apartment again, and something clicks into place.

There is familiarity here. He sees it now. The smell of coffee and burnt toast, the colourful shield laying in the corner, the scattered pencils and sketchpads sitting haphazard on the end table. What is familiar is Steve, and because Steve is a part of him, Bucky discovers he recognises himself here as well.

The broken jigsaw pieces of his mind are nowhere near solved, but the recognition lets several more pieces drop into place. The world is still hazy, but with each new connection, he is finally beginning to see the bigger picture again.

Bucky stares into the bright blue eyes across from him, and his voice cracks when he whispers. “There you are.”

Without another thought, the backpack falls from his fingers and he collapses into Steve’s waiting arms. He doesn’t need to carry it any further. He’s finally come home.  

*****

The last forever kiss

The one that ties it all together. When you’ve crossed oceans of time, when you’ve endured lifetimes of heartache and pain, all for the chance to be together.

Bucky is sunk deep in thought as he writes in the notebook, sitting at the small table beneath their kitchen window, the early morning light splashing over him. When Steve pads noiselessly into the room, Bucky doesn’t even notice, and Steve can’t help himself. He stops and watches, perfectly content to observe these small moments for the rest of his days.

“Don’t be creepy Rogers.” He doesn’t look up, but there’s a hint of laughter in his voice, the pen still scratching across the paper.

Steve blushes at being caught, but he chuckles at gentle admonishment.

“What are you writing?”

Bucky smiles down at the pages, before he closes the cover and looks up at Steve with a lopsided grin. “Nothing much. Just a story.”

Steve’s lips curl up at the sight of Bucky’s relaxed expression. His happiness triggers an automatic response in Steve, once he can never help. He shuffles to the table and leans down, pressing his lips gently to Bucky’s, still marvelling at the simple fact that he can.

Every single day. For the rest of their lives.

They remain this way, lips lightly touching, tasting the other’s breath, breathing in the others scent. Neither pulls away first, but they part simultaneously, two pairs of blue eyes a shade different in colour, but identical in layers of emotion. Steve touches his forehead to Bucky’s and turns with a smile to get his coffee.

Bucky watches him for a moment, before he opens his notebook and writes one last line.

--- 

So really, what is a kiss? Is it the careful arms dragging you from the edge of hell? Is it the feel of fingers brushing under a black sky? Or is it the sound of the only words you need to find your way back?

Here’s the truth again. It’s all of these, and so many more.

But if you need a definition, I’ll give you this. A real kiss, it’s nothing more or less than then a promise between two souls. You may not see it at first, but rest assured, it’s always there. And whether it’s sealed with lips or stolen glances in the night, well, that part is unimportant.

I know now. You simply have to keep your eyes open.

*****

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