garazeblaszane

[moochio7]

Ao3 has been down so long I made a short animatic

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A fight about a rumor, a confrontation, an admission, and suddenly your in the back of your car with no pants on.

Word Count: 4.7 k

Warnings:

“Get back ‘ere,” Lt. Simon Riley’s deep voice bellows angrily at the back of your quickly fleeing head as you storm clench fisted out of his private quarters before it disappears from his sight for a moment as you slam his door behind you so hard that it bounces off the frame and swings back open. He has no clue where you’re off to, but by the direction you’re headed, it looks like you’re going straight towards the parking lot. 

God dammit, this isn’t how this is supposed to go. He curses himself for the way his emotions get the best of him sometimes and especially right now.

A mess of heavy breaths and barred teeth, you try to ignore the boot steps barreling towards you from behind. Nothing and no one is going to stop you from getting out of here and away from him, so you keep your face down, eyes staring at the long shadow of your body splaying out in front of you as the sun slips down further to the horizon. When you do finally look up your car is close and getting closer; good. You need to get off this fucking base to calm down before you explode in rage and do something stupid…like put your fist through a wall.

Again the lieutenant calls out your name to your fading figure with no luck and watches as you reach your vehicle without even acknowledging him anymore. It’s no use, you’re gonna take off no matter what he does, so finally he gives up with a loudly growled “fuckin’ hell” in agitation just as you reach out for the handle, storming back into the room with another loud bang as the door shuts and stays closed this time. 

The noise makes the tension in your chest ease as you get in the driver’s seat and buckle up; at least he’s decided to actually leave you alone for now. Risking a quick glance back at the bare front of his closed door one more time you harshly turn the key in the ignition and peel out of the parking lot, screeching wheels and a flurry of gravel the only sign of your exit. 

“God dammit,” you mutter to yourself under your breath, your knuckles gripping into the steering wheel until they are white as you make your way up to the security booth to get cleared to leave. “What the fuck was that? Christ, he was angry. Has he lost his goddamn mind? Why does he think I have to put up with his shit?”

The guards at the stand can see the fury in your eyes as you roll up to the gate and they are quick to guide you through, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever has got you in a mood. They share a look between them after you drive off as somehow it feels like they’ve dodged a bullet, but that relief is short lived as not even ten minutes later the next person to come up to their gate has the same sour expression, except this one is partially shielded inside a jet black motorcycle helmet and black balaclava. 

Those eyes though…if looks could kill, the guards know they would have already dropped dead.

“Lieutenant,” one of them nods briskly as the motorcycle comes to a stop and the visor on the helmet is aggressively opened to reveal its occupant, “y-your good to go.”

Simon flips the visor back down with a single flick from his hand and revs the engine on his bike to peel away from the booth like a rocket towards the setting sun, headed in the same direction you had just gone minutes before. Faster and faster he pushes the engine; thank fuck there’s only one way you can go and if he makes sure to speed, he’s confident that he’ll catch up to you quick enough.

And then what? Simon’s anger is still blinding and he hasn’t thought that far ahead. All he knows is that he can’t just leave it like this and until you listen, he isn’t going to give up.

Your eyes are locked on the road, but it feels like you’re driving more by instinct rather than by sight as the only thing you can see right now is red. Simon’s harsh accusations swirl about in your head on repeat; not a good soundtrack to quiet your anger. This is not how you thought this day was going to end.

He had caught you headed back to your barracks and asked to speak. If you knew it was going to be an ambush for him to unload on you about something that was none of his business, you would have done everything to get out of letting him lead you inside his room. He didn’t even give you the chance to get a word in, to defend yourself, just kept spewing his heated thoughts about what he believed you were doing until finally you were able to get out.

If only he knew the truth… whatever, it didn’t matter now. You wouldn’t be kept on a short leash by someone who didn’t care.

You aren’t sure how many miles you’ve gone before you notice a motorcycle driving right behind you. They seem to be glued onto your bumper, keeping pace with you as you switch lanes, and when you make a sudden right and another directly after, they are still behind you and now you’re sure; you know that bike and its rider. 

How the fuck did he get behind you so fast? 

Simon flashes his lights at you before throwing on his blinker to indicate that he wants you to pull over, but you aren’t on base and don’t feel like following his orders right now. Let him chase after you for a little while more, that’s what he deserves. Who knows, maybe he’ll realize that this is a fucking stupid idea and he should really head back. Wishful thinking; you know him too well to even pretend that he’ll give up when he has his mind set on something. 

A few more miles and again he hits his lights; he’s not going to stop following you until you give him what he wants. He knows he came at you too strong before, but he isn’t done with the conversation. He is compelled to put a stop to this before it gets any more out of hand, he has to. One more time, he flashes his lights.

“Really, Simon? I don’t want to fucking do this,” you curse him in a mumble with a scoff. Looking into your rearview mirror, you throw up your hands in defeat to silently indicate you’re ready to get this over with, wherever he decides to take this. It’s almost dark now anyway; you can get this done and then immediately head down to the bar to grab a much needed drink.

Up ahead is the abandoned parking lot of an old grocery store that looks like it has been closed for some time. Simon speeds up to get ahead of you to act as a guide and you throw your blinker on and turn in. He leads you towards the back of the store and away from the street and the traffic; more privacy for you to ‘talk’. 

Great, more yelling, you think as you put the car in park before coming to a full stop. You scramble out in a huff and slam the door shut so hard that the windows vibrate.

“What?” you say between gritted teeth, leaning up against your car as you wait for him to get off his bike; you’re gonna make him come to you. 

He removes his helmet, setting it carefully on the handlebars before stalking over to where you stand. “I said I wasn’t going to talk about this anymore,” you continue on in the same heated tone, “so why are you following me? What the fuck do you want now?”

“That’s really how you’re gonna talk ta me?” he questions, matching your energy. “I’m still your fuckin’ lieutenant.” 

“That’s how I talk to assholes so stick their fucking noses where they don’t belong and then get mad when they don’t like what they find,” you return, crossing your arms across your chest to hide how labored your breathing is from your anger. You don’t want him to know just how much he’s gotten under your skin, even though you know your face is probably giving it all away anyway. 

He told himself to stay calm, but there is no helping the emotional reaction he has that causes him to immediately match your energy and the fight picks right back up as if it never stopped. “Oh, is that right?” he growls. “I’m tha asshole? And what the fuck does that make ya, princess?”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” you press the matter. “I didn’t do anything; you’re the one that has the problem. I just don’t understand why you can’t let it go. Do you not have anything better to do than get in my personal life?” 

Simon licks his lips behind his mask to keep him from losing the shred of composure he has left. “Better watch it, luv.”

You’re done with him, his attitude, and this conversation. “I will say it again, so maybe you’ll finally get it through your thick skull. What I do in my free time is my business. You have no right to confront me about anything.”

“I think I do,” he returns.

“Why? Because we hooked up a couple of times? That doesn’t give you the right to act like we’re a couple,” you say heatedly. “We agreed that it was we needed at the time to let off some steam, that the couple times it happened meant nothing. Now you’re acting like a fucking child just because I enjoy having company?”

Your blood is boiling now because he’s doing all this without having the facts. This supposed company you are entertaining isn’t even real, it is all a rumor started by a rejected private with nothing better to do, but you aren’t about to tell him that. He doesn’t need to know because it shouldn’t matter; you’re not together, never were, and he has no right to any knowledge about what you do behind closed doors. 

This is the type of arrangement he wanted after all, no strings attached. His idea, not yours, so why the possessiveness all of a sudden? After all you had done to make sure your feelings on the matter never got out it only makes you more irate to feel like a caged animal; damned if you do, damned if you don’t. 

Because what you really want is standing right in front of you and you can’t have it.

“Ya couldn’t even tell me ya were screwin’ around?” he says, stepping up in intimidation. “Ya don’t think that makes it sound like ya knew it was a problem?”

His entitlement feels like an attack and you won’t stand for it. “You can’t keep me on a leash like this when you don’t even have a claim,” you bark, getting in his face. “You might be my lieutenant, but what I’m doing or not doing outside of military business isn’t for you to worry about. And once again, we aren’t together. Stop acting jealous.”

He stares you down, menacing glare locked to your eyes as his chest heaves up and down exasperatedly. “Neva said I was fuckin’ jealous,” he starts, but you promptly cut him off.

“Yeah, right,” the accusation spills out like acid, finger poking into the middle of his chest. “And the fact you can’t fucking drop it is because you’re concerned, right? Bullshit. But you know what? I don’t care. I promise you, this is the last we will ever speak about it. You hear me? Just leave me the fuck alone.”

You shove past Simon as he stands there silently fuming to walk off somewhere along the building, clearly hoping that he will turn back for the base. His heart is beating out of his chest as he stares daggers into the back of your head…because you actually guessed right. He is jealous and it is eating away at him. 

Blinded by his overwhelming emotions, he moves without thinking about the repercussions of his actions. Taking fast steps, he catches up to you as you walk along by the brick wall of the store and takes you by surprise. He reaches out with his large, strong hand and wraps tightly around the back of your neck to pull you backward to him, turn you around, and pin you against the brick by your throat.

Simon blocks your body with the bulk of his, trapping you so you can’t get away again. His grip is firm, but not painful and you look up into his masked face as if trying to read his eyes. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, the residual anger pumping through your veins so it’s still in your voice.

There is a pause, more silence, before he speaks. “Handlin’ something,” he says with a growl.

“You clearly can’t handle anything, Simon,” you comment with an agitated chuckle. 

“Shut it,” he demands in a harsh bark. “Ya think ya know every fuckin’ thing, don’t ya?” He shakes his head, jaw visibly clenching even behind the mask. “Ya can’t even see what’s right in front ‘a your face.”

Your brow furrows; what the hell is he talking about? His remark catches you off-guard and you stand silently in confusion as you contemplate what the hell he’s trying to say, but he’s gone completely silent, just breathing heavy breaths into your face. Enough, he needs to just spit out so this can end. 

“Since I’m so fucking stupid, why don’t you spell it out for me. Stop playing these fucking games with me, Simon.”

Fine, no more games. His skin tingles with the heat from the adrenaline flooding his limbs and all at once everything happens in a flash. Only inches remain between you and in that moment they suddenly feel as wide as the ocean; it makes him ache and the urge to close the distance overwhelms every sense. Reaching towards his face with his free hand his mask is wrenched above his lips before he pulls your head forward by your throat and leans in to catch your mouth with his. The kiss is so full of aggression that it knocks the air out of your lungs. 

There is nowhere for you to go, nothing you can do, but hold on as he takes what he wants from your mouth. He steals kiss after frantic kiss as if he has been starved for them, not evening pausing to give you a second to come up for breath.  

All that anger that had just been bubbling inside you is redirected and suddenly instead of wanting to push him away you want him as close as possible. Your fingers claw into his shoulders through his leather riding jacket as you try to pull him into you, but they are immediately ripped off as he grabs them and pins the wrists to the wall above your head. Between the breaks in your mouth’s connection, he gasps out the words he should have said back in his room. 

“Ya need ta understand. Can’t just have ya a few fuckin’ times and tha’s it. Can’t get enough a ya. Was a goddamn fool not ta speak up sooner. Want ya for myself an’ I don’t share what’s mine. An’ you’re mine, luv,” he gasps into your parted lips, giving your neck a squeeze for emphasis. “Ya hear that? Mine.”

He nips at your bottom lip, sharp teeth cutting into the plump flesh to make you moan at the delicious harshness. God, your desperate sounds are like a drug; he can’t get enough and the more needy you become, the better they get. Pulling back just as you try to go in for more, he stares into your eyes, his gaze darkening within the confines of his mask still clinging to the top half of his face. “Can’t ‘ave anyone else tryin’ to get at what’s mine. Any prick that tries ta take ya away from me, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ‘im.”

Admission finished Simon’s eyes flutter closed as he dives right back into your lips, this time shoving his tongue into your mouth, parting through your lips as he forces his way in until the muscle has filled you full. It plays against the roof of your mouth and over your tongue, tasting you, devouring all he can like a beast ravenous to take all that it can get. 

All that pent up desire being released onto you.

His bulky muscles against your chest crush your body into the wall and you can barely breathe, but you would gladly suffocate if it meant your curves could stay molded into each other like this for longer. Then you feel it, that bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans, and the walls of your pussy involuntarily clench. Suddenly you need it inside you. 

As if he has read your mind, Simon wrenches himself from your lips. “Unless ya want me ta fuck ya on the side ‘a this buildin’, get to tha car,” he growls, his voice husky. “Now.”

It only takes  a few seconds before you’re both jostling into the back of your car and slamming the doors shut, Simon’s jacket discarded on the ground right outside the door. His massive size takes up most of the cramped interior of the vehicle, but still he manages to maneuver onto his knees over top of you as he lays your back down against the seat. With one hand he undoes your pants, clasp first and then zipper, and pulls them down just under the curve of your ass and forcefully rips them off your legs as he rips his shirt off over his head with the other. The mask is taken with it and all the clothes get tossed somewhere into the floor of the car as he hikes one of your legs up to rest on his broad shoulder.

“Need it,” he says, feverishly kissing down the length to your thigh. “Need ta be inside ya right this second.”

“Yes, Simon,” you whimper as he undoes his jeans and pulls out his cock. It bobs up and down with the beats of his heart and he moans at the sensitivity as he takes it into his hand.

“Ya said I didn’t ‘ave a claim, well I’m ‘ere to claim ya now. But I need ta say it, sweetheart,” he returns as his fingertips hook into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side before he angles himself against your pussy and starts slipping himself through your petals with agonizingly slow thrusts of his hips. “Say you’re mine.”

You swallow to coat the dryness in your throat. “I’m yours Simon,” you say, but the measured nature of his strokes don’t stop.

“Again.”

The tip of his cock prods against your clit and you whimper at how swollen it is and how much you need something to take the edge off. “I’m all yours Simon!” you whimper so pathetically as the throbbing intensifies the more he repeats the same. 

His hand digs harder into your hip as he leans in closer to your face. “I. Said. Again.” 

You close your eyes tight, clenching as you pant and gather the strength to reply with everything you have. “Simon, baby, please. I fucking need you so bad. I can’t fucking take it. I swear that I am only yours; there won’t ever be anyone else.”

The heat of his lips near yours makes you shiver. “Look who can’t handle things now,” he says with a smugness that makes goosebumps raise over your skin. “ Now, arch ya back a little more for me.” His command is direct and you follow without hesitation, presenting yourself to him like you are in heat, begging to be filled.  

“Fuck sweetheart, jus’ tha thought of ya with anyone else gets me so god damned riled up,” he says with a grunt as he positions himself at your entrance, your panties nearly ripping still laced in his fingers. “No one can ‘ave ya like this ‘cept me. Understand?”

You give him a vigorous nod, praying that soon the agony will end. “No one.” Your repeated words are a plea.

Simon’s heart races at how you say it. “You’re neva’ gonna stray, are ya?”

“No,” you whine.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” 

With that he shoves in just the tip through the threshold, instantly feeling the stretch of your core by the girth of it, groaning through a chuckle as you mewl taking him in. He doesn’t give you time to adjust and snaps his hips to thrust all the way down to the base of his shaft. The wind gets knocked out of you, but again he doesn’t pause and the axle of the car creaks as his desperate strokes overwhelm everything from you to the vehicle with the force.

“Ya think anyone else can make ya feel like this?” he asks through gritted teeth as he pounds into you hard and rough over and over again in rhythm. “Some manky bastard gonna make ya moan like this?”

There’s no way you can answer him with how full your mouth is with moans, how numb your mind is as everything in you focuses on the sensation of his thrusts reaching deeper and deeper inside. It only gets worse when he decides that one leg on his shoulder isn’t enough; it needs its twin on the opposite one. From here you swear you can feel him in your stomach with how deep he penetrates.

“Ya think he would even know what ya like? How to play with your clit, how to suck on your tits till you’re vibratin’ and your toes curl?”

How the fuck did he remember all that? You’ve only been together a few times and yet it’s obvious that he’s paid so much attention to detail that he’s memorized everything of those intimate details that make you a mess. As if right on cue his hand slips down between your bodies and parts through your petals to massage the nub at the top of your pussy.

“Ya think I wouldn’t care ta know what ya like?” he asks, the gravel in his voice delicious and yet menacing as you throw your head back and release a loud moan. “How else am I gonna make sure ya belong ta me? I need ta fuckin’ ruin this sweet little pussy so no one else can compare. I wanna be the only fuckin’ thing in that pretty head ‘a yours.”

As if you’d ever have the strength after this to even think of another man that isn’t him. The fictional man that got you into this predicament didn’t even exist and yet somehow you still feel guilty about him. There is only Simon, your Simon, that you can’t get enough of; no one else can ever come close. 

The lights in the parking lot kick on just as the last bit of daylight slips under the horizon and you can see now just how fogged up the windows are as Simon rips up your shirt and bra together, stuffing the clothing up around your neck and popping both breasts out of their cage before letting your legs slips from his shoulders to fall and wrap around his hips.

“Can’t forget about these beauties,” he growls before diving in face first and catching one with his mouth. 

Hot lips latch on as he braces a hand against the steam-covered window to hold himself steady so that he can continue to pump in and out of your tight hole and play with your clit as his tongue teases the nipple until it’s stiff and you can feel the pleasurable sensation down between your thighs. The moans filling the car come faster and faster as the heat gathering in the pit of your stomach grows. Simon doesn’t even come up for air, just switches sides to play with the other nipple until it too is hard; he wants a matching set before you come and he is gonna get what he wants. 

Your thighs squeeze down on his hips as that heat violently gathering in the pit of your stomach starts to come to a head and a devilish idea floods your thoughts. It won’t be long now and your orgasm will be coursing through you, but that’s not enough. If he wants to claim you, he is going to claim all of you…and fill you full. 

“Don’t pull out,” you stammer out and he falters in his thrusts. 

Simon quickly releases your breast from his mouth.“What did ya say?” 

You lock your ankles together tightly behind his back so he can’t escape. “Don’t you dare pull out,” you repeat and he nearly comes right then and there just from how the request makes his heartbeat pound. “God, I’m so close, baby. Please, I need you to come in me.”

Fuck, what a request. How the hell could he possibly refuse? He made a declaration after all and he intends to keep it; he is going to ruin you and he is more than willing to breed you to do it. His hands move to your hips and he buries his fingers in the muscles. 

“Then you’re gonna get what ya fuckin’ want, sweetheart,” he says as he strikes up into you with a newfound vigor that makes your body bounce. “You’re gonna take every last goddamn ounce.”

“Right there,” you moan, the pressure euphoric, “stay right there.”

He grunts. “Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel that fuckin’ clench.”

He struggles to repeat the same exact movements, his own release about to pop off at any second, but with a bit of effort his hard work pays off and that heat reaches its peak. The tension snaps harshly and tears through you until your body is jerking as you ride out wave after wave of ecstasy.

God, the way your walls are fluttering around him as you let go is heaven and he loses himself in the sensation. All that tight, wet, heat sends tingles through his cock and he can no longer remain sane. 

“My pretty girl…” he murmurs, his thrusts slowly getting more sloppy… “mine…” he repeats,  nearly there, preparing to make sure you take every ounce of his cum and coat your walls… “all fuckin’ mine.”

That’s it, he can’t take another thrust and with an open-mouthed moan he comes hard. Cum shoots up inside you as he milks himself with your body until he has nothing left to give and kneels there resting inside you. You watch the muscles along his abdomen contract and release as he slowly comes back down from that high. 

Such a masterpiece of flesh.

Minutes pass until he feels like he can pull out and he spends that time peppering your lips with tender kisses. Finally he carefully removes your legs from around him and sets them down on either side of his thighs, holding them open so that he can lean back and watch his cum and your slick dribble out of your cunt onto the cushion beneath you. What a beautiful mess he’s made; he can’t stop staring at it as if he’s in a trance. 

A visual sign that his claim is finally complete.

“Tha’s a sight that could do me in,” he breathes. “Ya did so good for me, sweetheart.”

He releases your panties so that they fall back into place and you can feel everything starting to gather in the crotch. You sit up and he pulls your face in for one last kiss; you’ve been here long enough that if you don’t get out of here soon it’s gonna draw unwanted attention. 

“Now get your ass back ta base and make it quick,” he says as he pulls slowly from your lips, “I want ya in my room, in tha shower; ya got exactly 20 minutes so ya best not stop. I’m not done with ya just yet.”

[d8tl55c]

y ' a l l . it took me multiple weeks to start working on a pony town skin <- real <- i made SIXTEEN other ones before the one i wanted

so now you're gonna look at them :D

behold! i bring you: disheveled TCO & rehabilitated TCO

it was a long journey to get here and every freaking detail has some personal lore about it- so if you want to see some progress shots ive chronicled them below X3

ok so 💕✨\o_🎉

the original plan was to: 0. go for a cho post-Showdown and pre-Box 1. use my existing spacescug colors (so i wouldn't get overwhelmed and stop) to create interesting gradients with the black, 2. dress them in.......... WHATEVER seemed cool at the time, and 3. have fun.

SO! i did. ~

(fun facts: the spacescug is one of the 16 skins i crafted while anxiety-ing over ava/m (sometimes ill use it to SNEAK AROUND and admire people (pls say hi lol <3 )))

features. i went with the fluffiest hair i could find, a starry mask for privacy, a comfy sweater, and my two pride and joys: firetail and transparency-skirt.

see look look it's supposed to be showing the legs on the other side of the fabric :D :D :D !!! and, if you look close, it's discreetly distracting from the big shackle i added to the left hind leg. (if you look REALLY close, you'll see i drew some grass in the "hole" of the head. this is why im so excited about this i went ALL IN ;v;;;;) (transparency-skirt ruled as a concept, but in the end it didn't make it any further through my TCOs)

okay so then i spot this character.

i instantly fell in love with the way they did their head (never before seen by me), and was inspired to refine my own work a little,,, so i would fit in more with them when we hung out.

i tore the sleeves off of the cozy sweater, added a Rocket-Brand™-lookin collar, and retired transparency-skirt.

i enjoyed this version so much i didn't change it until fall rolled around....

in which, while re-doing my whole catalog of fav skins to match the new ground color, i changed like 7 entire pixels of the design which i am not going to waste your scroll bar with. <3

now it's getting real.

one day, i needed a break from a thing and decided to dev some more accessories. i had an idea to strap down the wings with one of the feather outline colors and a Waist item, and that quickly spiraled into changing several many, many, more things.

speed round! extra features include:

firetail upgrade! ++shiny

+detail on right hind leg: scars? a tracking device maybe?

aforementioned wing restraint

right cozy sleeve ripped further to install the

Rocket™ wristband: that can't be good

hair accents match accessories and each other better

Back Mane changed for ++disheveled points

Ear accessory added for ++disheveled points

Ear type changed for more fluff back there

and as you can see i bit the bullet and tried to make an homage to my new friend's head style, and i found that these closed eyes (left) look like frowny cho-eyes. :3

AND THAT WAS AWESOME. i felt great. stylish, even. i sat there with an extra 10% deduction to needless social anxiety in my new threads.

and i thought, huh. i've made this little guy suffer, mentally and physically, for fifteen outfits now. what changes if they escape The Situation? and heal?

i pondered this for a while, but i didn't get the boost to act on it until i met this MVP.

they taught everyone on that day cool and funny pony-making tricks! and they're sweet.

from them i was inspired yet again ☝

and this time, i mixed in EVERYTHING. slowly untying the ropes, healing the scars, repairing the hair. the glasses trick that TDL taught me to get the more expressive eyes. the colors and patterning i learned from making a troodon skin (another of the 16) to re-dye the hair and add a new layer of striped pattern to the clothes. yellow with the red so it nods to TDL AND represents more fire. thE SLEEVES ripped ALL THE WAY OFF!!! YEAAAH SHUCK THAT ANGST I MADE THE MARKS BASED ON HOW YOUR CURSOR INVERTS IN WORD

WHAT IF INSTEAD OF RETURNING TO GREYS THEY START DRESSING IN LITTLE EXPLOSIONS OF COLOR •-|,=-||-•|-',=•-|"/, |'['-•-|_|<,['- [,-|'"/,/_',= '////////

and

that's it.

except for ofcourse the :V s :3333333

SO THAT'S THE STORY OF THIS

WOW, haha, thank you for coming on this journey with me. if you know more about pony town than me i am so taking suggestions- i am still learning and having a great time doing it!

TOODLES 💕

[ipegchangbin]

— lines, lines, and more lines

hyunjin x reader | 4.5k words

♡ ... accompanying playlist. Hyunjin stared at the unfinished painting. It always seemed to stare back. And its eyes — it had none — looked like yours.

❥ angst. hurt, comfort. hopeful ending. ❥ not beta read. gender neutral reader (no pronouns). past breakup. declining mental health (depression). mentions of suggestive activity. exes to…

📝 happy valentine’s day! art & playlist by me. otherwise, enjoy.

18+ only. minors do not interact.

Should he have called you?

He loves all sorts of art. He has not once ever hated a single piece, thinking that all works were masterpieces in their own right.

Standing in the corner of the room, though, was a canvas he hated to see. Hyunjin didn’t dislike your unfinished painting, but he hated being reminded of what could’ve been.

It had been a year yet nothing in that corner of the room had changed. He always used the studio, of course, the large open workspace full of ideas that came to fruition and stored the ones that didn’t in unsealed paint cans and palettes with stories in them.

The room was littered — half-clean thanks to weekly maintenance — but not dusty. It was a calculated mess, typical for an artist, atypical for a depressed romantic.

Because all but one goddamn corner of the room changed. That one painting stood on that easel, paint dried yet not chipping once off its canvas.

It was supposed to be a portrait of his face. You finished the perimeter of his head, his bangs and mullet colored in, and an underpainting of his skin was in the works. His lips were as luscious as you used to claim — one of his favorite compliments, he wouldn’t admit — and they were frozen in an ever-present gentle smile. He didn’t have any eyes yet, but your rendition of him stared back at Hyunjin like a warped reflection in moving water.

Yet it seemed to stand still in time.

That’s why he called you. After months of no contact, he dialed you up at 2 AM in a state of slightly calmed panic. Hyunjin wasn’t thinking; he didn’t want to think, not anymore. All he wanted was to see you.

He bit his lips that you once said were luscious and full. The anticipation in his system only seemed to outweigh the feeling of his teeth clamping his lower lip.

Autopilot drew over his actions. Your phone rang. His own vibrated in his hand. He allowed the speaker to ring across the colorfully-decorated walls of the studio.

Please, pick up.

“Hello?”

Hyunjin blinked and suddenly he was back to where he was. The call had been over twenty minutes ago. It would be approximately ten more minutes before you’d arrive at his doorstep.

Was that really your voice that he heard?

Can’t be stupid, of course that was you. There was no mistaking the calm and soothing timbre of a voice that had just awoken, not from sleep, but from resting a stretch of time without speech.

Maybe he dreamt it up again? No, he didn’t. Then, why did he do that?

Hyunjin, are you fucking stupid? He couldn’t help his thoughts.

It’s no secret that he’d slip into that same blurry headspace, the one where he’d stop thinking and just do. Do things. Do whatever. It would take a bone to the head for him to even stop him at this state and it was painfully clear whenever he was in this trance.

He wouldn’t speak much. He’d pick up whatever he was supposed to hold and focus with deathly control. He’d zone in instead of out; this regularly occurred when he was painting, and he’d lose track of thought and simply keep going.

Is that why my works are more soulless lately? I don’t think when I make them. Hyunjin waved a hand in front of his sleepy eyes.

The downside to this was that, after the autopilot switches off, the flurry of thoughts would race and speed and subsequently crash. His thoughts were bullet trains that resumed motion and his head had tracks suddenly converging at a point. It’s wild, even to him, and he still isn’t sure if he’s gotten used to it yet.

All that he knew is that he missed you dearly.

You would know him better than he does. You would know how to comfort him. You would know — no, understand him better. Process his feelings more than he could ever do alone.

He never knew what love was until he loved you. He still loves you. It’s a love that eats away at him, as it’s the only love he knows.

It’s the only love he had. It’s the only love he lost.

Knock, knock, knock.

And it’s the only love that answers his call.

Startled by the sudden noise, Hyunjin got up from the dark amber floors of his well-loved studio and stopped staring at the painting.

It told him something. It seemed to know that someone was there. The artist behind his unfinished face, you, returned to his home no matter how absent-minded he seemed to be as he called you.

But he could leave the door unanswered. He could half-lie, pretend that he was drunk and fell asleep, text you a simple apology. It could be simpler.

But you were waiting so patiently by his door.

Curse you. Why have you always been patient with him? Why do you always wait for him? He didn’t deserve you, didn’t deserve to date you then break up with you. He didn’t deserve to waste a single second of your time.

Even if you weren’t together anymore, why do you wait so loyally for him behind a door that won’t open in the dead middle of the night?

Hyunjin pondered whether or not to unlock the entrance and let you back into his life at least for one more fleeting moment.

“Sorry for making you wait,” he said, guiding you through the halls of his house as if you hadn’t memorized it by now.

Maybe he wanted the moment to feel special all over again. After several months of calling it quits, he wanted to make it feel as if you re-entered a dream from where you left off.

Ignore that it looked nightmarish now. If it at least holds any bearing, it did feel like you picked up from where you left off, though.

The more you traversed the familiar walls you once called home, the more it seemed apparent that life and time both flowed and stopped within the house. Some things were stuck in time, like the one-fourth full shampoo bottle sitting in your former corner of his shower. The sink was newly wet, water still dripping from the porcelain. It wasn’t like you wanted to pry, but the bathroom door was wide open to begin with, the scene more apparent when you noticed Hyunjin sniffling behind you.

Did he break down in the restroom again?

You knew he always did that. He didn’t have the habit of keeping to himself, but when he didn’t want to display his vulnerability to you, the same bathroom became his space if an outlet. Drawings weren’t always an answer, especially if it was his job, so he’d sob in the restroom — and it seemed, in his dissociative episode, he cried for a minute before calling you.

You walked further into the house. Your steps creaked against the wooden flooring that he promised to fix several months ago — had it been a year?

Maybe so. You haven’t used the same brand of the three-fourths empty shampoo bottle since last year. You switched brands since you left him.

He must’ve noticed. Hyunjin always made it known to you that he loved taking whiffs of your scent when you once were lovers. Now that he was trailing behind you while simultaneously guiding you through the depressive home, he must’ve realized that once was a lavender-scented head became lemon and lime.

It was unfamiliar. It shouldn’t affect Hyunjin. It’s just you. You’ve changed, so did the house, so did he, but it wasn’t anywhere near your level of maturation and growth.

Because how the fuck does a change of shampoo beat an unchanging home?

“Hyune,” you called to him, “do you need help with anything over here?”

He blinked. Even he didn’t know why he called you.

“I thought you needed help with the furniture?”

Right…right? He said that? Caught up in the sight of you after months, Hyunjin didn’t even remember his own excuse. He just craved to see you. See the person you grew to become.

See the person who left for the sake of love.

“Oh, yeah, I do.” Hyunjin sniffled with a weak smile. “Had to move a table in our—the studio, but your stuff’s in there.”

A genuine shock washed over you. “Shit, I forgot some things? I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin shouldn’t be this delighted to see your emotions.

He always loved watching you talk. He listened with full observation, relishing in the way you expressed yourself because you were beyond entertaining. You were his opposite, but also his twin flame. So maybe that was why it burnt his chest with charred edges to see that you were so much more confident in your words.

Was it speech therapy? Was it freedom? Was it because you left him, that you learned to love yourself more? Was it really not him, but you? “It’s not you, it’s me?”

Shit. He was overthinking again. His temples started to hurt more than it did. Sweating and despairing and wondering when — if it would all end by staring at you long enough.

He led you through the corner leading up to the studio. The first thing you saw, thankfully, wasn’t the mess he was creating around the corner; it was your painting. The haunting aura of Hyunjin’s portrait seemed to surprise you, taking one step back on your left leg. The studio was rampant of Hyunjin’s constant and bustling work ethic and then there was your corner, pristine in the way that it hadn’t moved at all. The painting stared at you both. You wondered if that had really been the state at which you left it — the state at which you left him.

You’re not the same. There’s comfort in the fact that you’re still you, the you he fell for and cherished. The you that he deemed his darling. His co-artist, his muse.

Standing in his studio after months, taking a gander at your unfinished work; you have the same backside but your silhouette has changed. Hyunjin couldn’t seem to grasp it. How could he, when you were his one and only love?

“God, that thing’s still there,” you joked. For a moment, Hyunjin’s thoughts seemed to calm themselves as you both chuckled silently.

“It’s funny, I stare at your painting and it looks like it’ll never crack.” He pointed at the painting, forgetting about the furniture he pretended to need help with. “You haven’t even varnished it and yet I feel more brittle than it ever will be.”

There’s a solemn look in his eyes as he stared at the spitting image of him, albeit rough around the edges and eyeless.

“Bits and pieces of my heart chipped when you left,” he whispered, though you caught it.

He bit his tongue to keep himself from uttering the petname “darling.” Force of habit, even after months — yet nobody could blame him, especially after you left him to wonder what you both were.

He knew how to mix orange paint better than knowing the mix of emotions you gave him.

“I’m sorry?”

The guilt washed over his shoulders as he realized that he spoke aloud, suddenly hoping that you could just go back to furnitures. He pretended to clear his dusty table, only for your hand to catch his. Skin on skin had never felt this refreshing. He’d realized that he never had another being touch him after you left.

“No, nevermind, I—”

“Hyune, no, I’m sorry.” The sincerity in your voice gave him goosebumps that he hoped you hadn’t felt under your palm. “I didn’t think I’d affect you like this…”

“It’s nothing big, really,” he scoffed, his own eye bags from losing sleep over you proving him otherwise. Hyunjin started feeling weird, like his head was spinning and he could faint at any moment. He was losing balance while holding onto the table. All he wanted was for you to talk.

Your concern only ever grew. “But you even kept the painting like that. Why didn’t you just take it down?”

You turned to him after he gave no response.

He thought and thought until he lost himself in a sea of overwhelming ideas and questions. He tried to come up with answers until he concluded that these were the same questions he’d ask himself every single day as he worked in the same exact studio. If only his clutter could talk, they’d know his secret; he’d stare at your art in between his works and mourn.

Mourn the future he couldn’t have with you. Mourn the lost love.

“Couldn’t take it down I guess.” Hyunjin huffed, defeated. “I just…couldn’t.”

That’s when it hit you. A lot of things in his house were merely things he simply couldn’t let go of.

The shampoo bottle from earlier. The painting. Trinkets stacked in the corners of the hallway you slowly walked through were keychains that you and Hyunjin bought at art fairs together. The hat you’d been missing was hanging by the entrance all along, untouched. Some brushes in his studio were yours.

He’d been stuck in a limbo between the past and present, unable to see a future from the dust on his table. Hyunjin stood in silence as you both shared a knowing look.

A look you couldn’t even spare him when you left.

For the past months, he couldn’t stop fixating on the last time you made love — the night before you left. It was great, satisfying and full of sweat and tears, full of kisses and promises that you’ll be back someday. You were going to focus on yourself, that you realized that love isn’t for you if you didn’t love yourself first. Hyunjin believed in it. He believed in you. You weren’t lying, but you weren’t sure of your words either. You figured that was the point of leaving, so that you’d “come back” as a sure, secure, and mature person.

It’s just that the world had been so unkind to you both. The things that you used to enjoy with him became something of nothing, and you realized that it was your end that needed fixing. To you, coming back wasn’t a promise to Hyunjin. To him, it was something he was willing to wait for even until the next lifetime. Love to you was for yourself to grow and familiarize with, but love to him was something he only knew through you.

That was the last time he’d ever touched another person, let alone himself. That was the last time he had ever uttered “I love you.” But maybe, just maybe, you were too set on leaving to care about the sex. It was full of love to him but it was probably empty to you. It was probably one last promise that you wanted to fulfill—let go of. You didn’t even pack your shampoo bottles when you left.

Hyunjin sat on the ground, legs about to give in from the sheer weight of his emotions and thoughts. You followed suit, sitting beside him.

I feel weird again.

Hyunjin clutched his arms closer to his chest, squeezing his knees in between the embrace, trembling in fear of another barrage of racing thoughts consuming him, eating away at his space.

There was nothing he could do about it. It always just seemed to happen.

Everything hurt, his brain was throbbing, your presence alone was too much in his shitty abode that he calls a home, his studio is one shabby excuse of a room that shouldn’t have you in it, you didn’t deserve to be here, in his place, in his damned, shitty place—

“Hyune.”

You reached out behind yourself to grab his arm.

“You’re not okay.”

It took two full, quiet seconds before anything. You stared not at his arm, but his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious,” he tried to joke. Once he caught a glimpse of your unwavering concern, he looked back down.

You made the grip on his arm firmer. You stroked his forearm with your thumb. It seemed to ground your ex, but he still felt just as broken as he was earlier.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I keep saying it but I don’t think it’ll ever be enough. I’m sorry I left you like this. I’m sorry I even left you. I just…you know that I had to do this for me, for us…”

You felt something in your throat. You swallowed it. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me. I know how shitty it is and now, I’m here for you.”

Hyunjin wordlessly listened, nodding at your now-real and sincere promises. Tears were falling down his eyes in the same tracks his previous tear stains ran down.

Your painting had been staring at you this whole time, the strokes around the eyes sticking out like sore thumbs to him — they were more of pinky promises to you, left hanging and ignored yet still innocently waiting.

“Let’s fix that,” you sighed.

“What?”

You looked at Hyunjin with a smile, half fond and half despondent. “May I finish this real quick?”

Hyunjin simply stared at you. The tears in his eyes fell but he didn’t dare blink. His eyes were wide open, in awe of your smile, scorn growing in his chest that you are both incredibly hurt people.

He hated, still hates, and will always hate the way that this world wronged either of you to the extent that you smile with unhappiness.

Alas, you got up to finish your work, thinking he nodded when he didn’t.

You stumbled to get up on two legs, struggling in your trembling body to even put a hand on your knee to get up. It was less of heartbroken now and more of tired, emotionally exhausted, sleepy, and slightly frustrated at the sight of your unfinished work.

Though it was your painting that your chose to abandon for months, you finally took the brush and picked up a surprisingly active thinner and a semi-dry pigment — random color that you couldn’t bother to check — off his palette with its bristles. You started slashing in a semi-calculative fashion, not minding the strokes but rather the picture you were painting, burning butterflies from your brain right onto the canvas.

Hyunjin stared curiously with hands on his knees still close to his chest. The eyes that were promised on the canvas became less and less like his own until they weren’t.

And there they were, butterflies sitting on a portrait of his face.

“There,” you said, accomplished. For some reason though, the lump in your throat returned.

You figured it was the thought of slightly finishing in the way you never intended to. You remembered working on the piece while you were still together, promising to paint him a portrait as a signifier of your love for him. He sat in front of your easel for hours, not because you couldn’t paint his face right, but because you and him couldn’t finish your work from laughing together and talking endlessly.

You couldn’t get it done even if you wanted to just because he loved you so much. He loved you enough to make you smile and laugh. He loved you to the point of obsession and fixation. Nowadays, you aren’t sure how you feel about that, but then, it was refreshing and alive.

Maybe that’s what killed love for you. You didn’t want him and his explosive bouts of love to get in the way of your love for your work, your life, yourself. You loved him, you still do. It’s no question. So, what is it?

Is it that you didn’t love him the way he loved you?

You left to focus on yourself. You left to find the love that you needed for yourself. Or maybe, is this his consequence of loving too much?

Or did you not love him the same?

“It’s…” Hyunjin slowly spoke, “it’s so pretty.”

Your eyes sparkled at him. He was fixated on the butterfly in your painting.

“Your work is always so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you nervously said. The tears started to pool by your eyes. The nostalgia, the pain in his voice, the longing for you and him…was it all too much?

Hyunjin seemed to have an answer.

“Though we won’t be certain about what’s in store for us,” he mustered up the courage to say, “I’m certain that you’ll always be in my picture.”

“What if I don’t want to be in your picture anymore?” You asked.

Hyunjin’s lips shut.

You didn’t know what overcame you when you said that. The frustration of thoughts, from having to answer your ex’s call and seeing him break down like this, to questioning the love that you still have for him. It was all much.

“I’ll be hurt,” he sniffled, “I’ll respect it.”

While you were at it, you had to ask. “Is it selfish to say that I wish you didn’t love me so that you leaving would’ve been easier?”

A part of you wished this too much. You hoped that he could just move on. But again, how could he? How could he when you were his first, his supposed last? You were the one who taught him love and he loved you with his all. It’s not a love that you’re used to and it’s not a type of love you could give to him let alone yourself.

Your eyes shifted towards the painting again when he couldn’t answer, until you felt his hand reaching out for yours.

“I love you most. It isn’t selfish, but I think I’m selfish for still yearning. You just know me better than I know myself.” Hyunjin spoke with a sudden eloquence that gave you shivers.

It wouldn’t last long.

“Thank you.” You held his hand with your other. “But Hyunjin…you should know yourself better than most.”

“Darling—” His voice broke slightly. The habit creeped back, betraying his tongue as it chased you. “Y/N, I don’t even know anything, so how else am I supposed to do that with myself?”

It became trickier to respond as his tears exploded. “Then understand yourself,” you said, “It’s hard, it sucks, but look. You have to care for yourself before you get to love others.”

“Like you?” He asked with swollen, slightly bitten lips. “You know yourself.”

“I don’t. Not yet. Not completely.”

Hyunjin nodded with sorrow in his eyes. “It’s just…”

He took a deep breath as he glanced at the butterfly. It seemed like a breed of bug that would be free in the wind. He wished to become that, a wandering creature with beauty and nothing in its simple mind but the love of life.

Hyunjin exhaled.

“I’ve been trying to accept that you left because you found yourself, and I’m happy for you. But I can’t help myself. I can’t help but think about you. I can’t help but miss you. I can’t help thinking about how you are, I can’t help staring at the things you left for me, I can’t help the thought that—”

You don’t love me.

“That…th-that…you’re better off without me.”

Holding his hand tighter, you urged him to look at you. “Hyunjin…that isn’t the case. At all.”

“Yet I can’t help it. I…I can’t lose you.” He started choking in his words. “I see my own portrait and all I’ll think about is you.”

Words started to hit like pangs to your chest. He’s right; it’s difficult to separate the art from the artist especially in your circumstances. He couldn’t let the notion of you go at all.

“You painted it. You stared at me. I’ll never forget the concentrated face you made while drawing me. It all goes back to you, and I love you, and I just…”

“Hyunjin…”

“I’m so stupid. I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear any of this. It’s so early, I…” He gulped and bit his bottom lip. “And I can’t kick you out now. God. I’m so fucking stupid…”

Pity and sincere concern washed over you. “You aren’t.” You’ve been in this scene before, back when you were together. Hyunjin’s grateful that you still have the right words to say. “Hyune…I still care for you deeply. I love you.”

“I love myself too and I’m sorry I prioritized myself. I left you in the dark. I’m so, so sorry.”

He tilted his head at that. “No. You deserve to be happy.” He’s right, there was no need to be sorry for choosing yourself when he could only choose you too.

You tried to smile. “Hyune, I always hope that you’ll be happy too.”

A few seconds of silence passed before a glint amidst your ex’s crying appears in his very real eyes.

“We can go back to painting maps. I hope by then, you’ll find yourself too.”

Profound words became skipped heartbeats. If you knew what to say, then he would always be ahead. That’s what you loved about him.

“If I do find it…the way back…” Hyunjin stuttered, “Will you come back to me too?”

“Maybe.” You smiled. “There’s a point that fate will take me to. Hope to meet you at that point.”

The both of you prepared coffee as purple streaks of daylight broke into the sky. You caught up with yourselves and shared a few jokes over the dining table. It had been a while since Hyunjin — nor you — felt this kind if human connection again. The bitterness of the caffeine and sweetness of the sugar would be fitting for you both if it weren’t for the fact that you both downed your drinks with ease, just as you would before.

Things are different, things are the same. Hyunjin promised to be healthier. You picked up one of his extra paper bags and got some of your stuff.

“Hyune, I want to apologize one last time,” you turned to him. “Sorry I pulled the “it’s not you, it’s me” thing even if I knew next to nothing either. And sorry for leaving this.”

You held up the unopened shampoo bottle next to your head. Hyunjin blinked before smiling fondly.

“Do you still want it?”

“Well, you probably need it.”

“I have stock of a new one at home. I miss this one though. Do you mind?”

Familiarity returned at last once you gave him the look with the big, curious eyes.

Hyunjin realized that you, no matter the distance, were never going to be too far from his heart.

Like a butterfly, it always returns to the flowers. Chipped paint can be retouched with new, brighter pigment. Love isn’t off the table, it changes — it grows. Maybe it branches in different directions, but just like butterflies, they don’t fly in straight paths.

He smiled wider when he realized he took too long to respond.

“Not at all.”

thank you for reading ! consider reblogging and leaving feedback if you loved my work 💗 writing © ipegchangbin

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 12: Sartse

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader word count: 3.6k a/n: i want y'all to know that for a couple of doffy's lines, i pulled it straight from the manga so i had to read THAT scene again and i ugly cried once more. had to step away from the computer and everything lmfao next

The speed in which you were flying into town could’ve instantly killed anyone who stepped into your path; hell you probably could’ve killed someone if they pulled out in front of you in a wholeass car. You made it into town in record time, a time that shouldn’t even be possible for the distance you had traversed. No cops seemed to be out and about to stop you either, which honestly checked out. They were worthless.

Whatever, it came in handy for you at this moment.

Something that no one except Marco knew, was that you had a secret entrance to the hospital that led right into your office - actually, it led to several different places. As someone of your social standing, you had to have a secret entrance/exit. It was important to be able to have a way out and a way in - specifically for situations like this. You had just hoped that you’d never have to use it.

As you were flying down the road, you looked at the security footage through your phone. Again, no one had this access except you and Marco. Sure, you had a security room with someone always monitoring things, but no one had remote access besides the two of you.

You pulled up the footage, trying to see exactly how much damage was being done. It seemed that the front of the hospital was fine; business as usual. It was the secret wing that was mostly taken over aside from a few of their men being posted in scrubs everywhere else. You knew all your employees by name and face, so of course you’d be able to tell who did and who didn’t belong. It looked like they had already let go of all of your underground staff. At least you didn’t have to worry about them.

You looked through the footage as you also kept an eye on the road, trying to find where everyone was being held. There wasn’t really anywhere in the hospital that you couldn’t see, so you knew you’d find them eventually. 

And you did.

They were currently being held in a conference room in the secret wing; everyone being Corazon, Law, Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi. You nearly crashed as you saw Corazon laying there in his blood soaked shirt, not moving. Were you too late? You felt that creeping numbness starting to crawl into your very being. You set your phone down, leaving it open. 

“How long do you think it’s going to take for them to get here? I’m tired of waiting,” Doflamingo complained, folding his arms and sulking as he perched on the table. Oh, you were glad you had cameras with sound - the extra money was worth it.

“Please, let me tend to Corazon’s wounds,” you heard Law plead. The sheer emotion in his voice made you press on the gas pedal even harder, sending you faster. 

“Absolutely not. This is what he gets for betraying me. His life is in y/n’s hands now since he wanted to be with them so bad.” He huffed, shaking his head. “How can someone of your stature fall for someone so weak.” He scoffed.

You clenched your jaw, pressing a button on the visor of your car as you entered an alleyway. A garage opened up and you flew inside.

“He’ll die at this rate!” 

“Let him then! It’s the consequences of his own actions.” 

Your head was spinning. How could someone be so cold to the very people they were supposed to love and protect? You would’ve never guessed that…Anthony was just like him. That they ended up being cut from the same cloth.

“How could you do that to your own family?” 

“If you keep talking, kid, you’ll end up with a bullet wound next.”

You slammed on your brakes next to a door, throwing your car in park and running up the stairs. You had an elevator, but it was going to take too long for you to use it. The staircase grew more and more narrow as you reached the top, ending in a small hallway that broke off into different parts of the hospital.

You navigated the small tunnel before slowly opening a door. It opened silently, the bookcase in your office in the secret wing opening. You snuck through, sticking low to the ground with a gun in hand. You were silent, listening.

You could hear Crocodile somewhere near the entrance to the secret wing talking with whatever cronies he had with him. He was in the opposite direction as Doflamingo, so you should be just fine. You’d have plenty of time before he’d get to the conference room should any problems arise. You took off down the hallway, your footsteps silent - just as you were trained. 

When you reached the conference room, you dropped down again, below the window. You glanced inside, seeing that things have escalated. Doflamingo was pointing his gun at Corazon once more, the man now sat up. Instant relief washed over you as you saw him sitting there - alive. You had been so scared that you were too late.

Though, if you didn’t act fast - he wouldn’t be much longer.

“Why did you come back just to mess with me, Corazon?” Doflamingo demanded. “Why must I be forced to kill my family not once, but twice?” Forced? What the hell did he mean by that? He absolutely isn’t being forced to do anything. Is that what your father also thought? That he was being forced to do the things he did? A stupid lie to tell yourself to justify such terrible actions.

You heard him cock his gun, standing up immediately and taking aim. You shot through the window, shattering the glass. The bullet hit Doflamingo in the hand, making him curse and drop his gun as he cradled his hand. You kept your gun trained on him. “Don’t even think about moving,” you said as he started for his own gun. He stopped, glaring at you through his sunglasses. 

The others looked at you with surprise, staring at you with wide eyes. You heard a chorus of voices cheer for your name, but you were focused on Doflamingo. “Step away from them.” He scowled at you, but stepped away. A grin spread across his face and you opened your mouth to say something when you heard a click of someone loading their gun behind you. You felt the barrel press against your skull. 

“Drop it.” This time it was you that scowled, letting your gun clatter to the ground. Dammit, you didn’t think he’d get here so quickly. Or so quietly. 

“Let me dress Corazon’s wounds,” you ground out. “Then I’ll sign your stupid papers.” 

“Y/n, don’t worry abou-”

“I appreciate your concern, but I have this under control, okay?” You looked at him through the shattered window, smiling warmly at him. He just stared at you with an expression you couldn’t quite discern but you could also tell he was struggling to stay conscious.

“Sign the papers first.”

“Absolutely not.” You felt him press the gun harder against you and you cursed at him. “Fucking-”

You whipped around so fast that he didn’t have time to react, hitting his elbow from the outside and pushing his hand up. Not enough to break it, but just enough to make him let go. You disassembled his gun and threw it to the ground. The same thing you did to Corazon a little over a month ago. “I’m not asking.” 

You weren’t stupid. You knew you were outnumbered, so you weren’t going to try and take the both of them out now. You weren’t going to start a fight - that’s not what you came here for. Saving the hostages, that’s what you were here for.  You looked back, seeing Doflamingo pointing his gun at you, only it wasn’t with his dominant hand, so you knew he wouldn’t be able to hit you correctly. You could just tell with the way it sat uncomfortably in his hand.

“That’s why you should train shooting with both hands. Cause as soon as you fire that gun in your hand, the kickback is going to be too much and you’re not going to hit me.” The pure rage in Doflamingo’s face was honestly comical.

You walked through the door, heading over to the blond man that was currently bleeding out on the ground. He wasn’t sitting up anymore and he looked like he was barely awake. “Just hang in there,” you said softly, pulling out a first aid kit from under the conference table. You had one in every room.

You felt the gun still being trained on you, hearing Crocodile putting the other one back together and picking yours off the ground before pointing it at you. “I’m not going to try anything stupid, you two. So you can get your panties out of a bunch,” you said.

You fumbled around in your fanny pack, grabbing out your small suture kit. You opened up Corazon’s shirt, assessing the damage. You hissed softly through your teeth. He’d been shot in the abdomen, losing a good amount of blood, but you were sure he’d end up being just fine- you could do this.

He spoke as you started applying disinfectant to a rag. “Do you just…carry this stuff-” He was cut off as you began to sanitize his wounds but you paused for a moment. That’s exactly what he had said the second time you had caught him from falling. He let out a weak laugh and it took everything in you not to start crying. Damn it all.

“Don’t talk, Ros. You need your strength.” 

“I think I’ll be just fine with you here now, doc,” he mused softly. You felt heat creeping up your neck. Really? At a time like this? You finished cleaning his wound, clenching your jaw as you were able to really see the damage. It seemed that Doflamingo was close enough when he shot him that it went through him cleanly, so you didn’t need to try and dig the bullet out of him - you were able to immediately start stitching him up.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep it together. “How is everyone else?” You looked to the boys, who seemed fine aside from looking absolutely scared out of their wits. Marco wasn’t here, so you imagined that they were watching him while he kept an eye on the front side. You didn’t know why they had to bring the boys into this at all. They absolutely had no ties to any of this. They were just adding to their ‘leverage’ at this point. Not only would they be able to control you, but also Corazon. He did use to be in the business, after all. So, he’d be able to fight his way out of this, throw the boys in and he was just like you - compliant.

“We’re fine,” Law said with a nod. “The only one who was hurt was Corazon.” You could see the genuine concern in his eyes, hear the pain in his voice. This was the man’s father essentially, of course he was worried.

“He’s going to be just fine, Law, I promise.” As you were speaking to him, you were still working.

“Where’s the paperwork?” you asked, looking at the two men who were currently pointing guns at you. They just looked at each other and you sighed. “You wanted me here to sign paperwork so one of you go fucking get it.” You sighed harshly.

“You shouldn’t sign it, y/n.” You looked at Corazon, finishing up his front stitches. 

“Turn around,” you said and he obeyed, slowly turning for you as you started to work on his exit wound. “I know what I’m doing,” your voice was low. “I’m going to get the lot of you out of here safely. I promise.” 

“But you worked so hard-” 

“Rosinante, please,” you said softly, feeling your own voice crack. You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing your work. You already made the decision and came to terms with the fact that you were going to lose your hospital. You could go somewhere else and work. Though, none of the hospitals around here would probably take you. You had snapped at them at that meeting and now none of them want anything to do with you.

Not that you really blamed them, but dammit, now you were going to have to move. It was also the best option. With you out of the picture, everyone would be able to resume their lives as normal. Your last actions with this will be making sure that Corazon and everyone out are able to get out of here safely. You were going to make sure that they’re able to escape the eyes of the families. Just as you did with everyone else. They will be the last ones you are going to be able to help, but at least they’ll be able to get out of here.

You finished patching up the man before you, sighing. “Finished.” Corazon turned to look at you, but you were already standing. You just…couldn’t stand it - all of this was your fault. 

You looked at Doflamingo, who still had a gun trained on you. “One more thing. They all get out of here safely. Away from you. They are not to be followed or tailed. If I find out that they are, the deal is off. Once they’re safe then-”

“Y/n! You can’t-” You ignored Corazon’s pleas, looking at the man before you. “Once they’re safe, then I will sign over the hospital.”

“That’s a large ask,” the man before you said, a shit eating grin spreading across his face. “You already were able to patch up Corazon here before, now you want their safe passage?”

“I think you forget that this hospital is my life’s work. I think that I’m not asking for much, all things considered. This place is a place that even cops won’t look, I think a handful of people who aren’t even involved in things like this to be let go isn’t asking much, right?” 

He opened his mouth to retort when you heard Crocodile’s voice. “Deal. But you will sit here while they leave, got it?” You nodded. “Deal. Also, make sure Marco is provided safe passage as well.” Crocodile nodded. At least he seemed to be willing to work with you.

“Don’t you think you’re giving them too much, Croc?” Doflamingo grimaced and the other shook his head.

“We’re going to get their entire hospital. It’s like they said, a few people who aren’t even involved in things like this is just fine. I know he’s your brother, Doflamingo, but you did just shoot him.”

“Let’s go then,” Crocodile said, looking at Corazon and co. “We don’t have all day. We’ll untie you when we get to the exit.” Everyone slowly stood up. You crouched in front of Corazon, taking his face in your hands. “Please take care of yourself, okay?”

He sputtered for a moment, his face turning red as you held his face. “Are you sure about all of this? We’ll be-”

“Trust me, okay? You guys will be able to get out of here. You’ll be free.”

“Well, what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me - I’ll be fine.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, resting your forehead on his. "Please don't do this," he whispered, but you ignored his words as much as they stung your heart. “Take it easy and heal up, okay? Then make sure you take good care of the boys.” You pulled away from him, looking over at Bepo. “Bepo, since you’re the tallest behind Corazon, will you help him?” 

“Yes, doctor!” Bepo nodded, heading over as you helped Corazon stand. You glanced at Crocodile, gesturing at the man’s restraints and he sighed before nodding. You untied Bepo’s hands and he wrapped an arm around the injured man’s waist. 

You looked at Law. “Make sure he takes it easy, okay? I expect you to take care of him while he heals.” The doctor in training nodded, looking like he wanted to say something. It took him a moment, but he found his words. “Please be careful, doctor. Make sure you look after yourself too.” He paused, realizing what he said.

“I don’t want to deal with a moping Cora if anything happens to you.” He was trying to cover his sentiment, but it was clear. You stood there, stunned for a moment. That was probably the nicest thing you’ve heard him say to anyone ever. Sure, it was covered with a joke, but the sentiment was there. Your face softened and you ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry about me, just take care of your dad for me, yeah?”

“You talk like we’re never gonna see you again.” He grumbled and you tensed for a moment. They just stared at you. “Y/n, what are you-”

“Let’s get going, I don’t have all day!” Crocodile’s voice interrupted.

You stepped away from them, smiling. “Take care of each other and be careful.” Shachi and Penguin looked at you with teary eyes. “We’re gonna miss you, doc,” one said. “Make sure you be careful,” the other chimed. You nodded, shuffling them all towards the door.

“Now, move along before they change their minds.” You were able to finally get them out of the conference room, heading out. You watched as they left with Crocodile, other cronies showing up to assist in the transfer.

You saw Corazon look back at you one more time before they turned the corner out of your sight. Your heart lurched as you saw the concern and yearning in his face. You just hoped that they’d take the opportunity to get out of here. You’d be just fine. Destroyed, but fine.

“Alright, now sign the papers.” You glared over at Doflamingo. “Not yet. They’re not out of here just yet.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know what you see in him anyway. He’s weak. Though, I suppose it matches with you. I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to inherit the power your father possesses. He might be my rival, but I know a man with power when I see it.”

“Not everything is about power and the sooner you realize that - the better.”

Doflamingo laughed and you flinched as it bounced off the walls. He was so loud - and for what? “Power is what took over your hospital, doctor. Power gets you whatever you want. Money, fame, you name it.” 

You shook your head. “I don’t expect a shallow man like you to understand,” you said with a small sigh. He was too drunk with power, money hungry, and dense. 

He grimaced, shaking his head. “Well, I’m not the one losing everything I’ve worked so hard for, now am I?” he mused, grinning. You felt your eye twitch, but you weren’t about to let him see that he was getting to you.

You just ignored him, folding your arms as you waited with a gun pointed to your head.

--

Crocodile eventually returned, looking at you. “They’re out. They’re safe. No one is tailing them.”

“You better be telling the fucking truth. So help me if I find out you’re lying-”

“Cool your jets. I never fuck with a deal.”

You just narrowed your eyes at him before pulling a pen out of your pocket, signing the papers. You slid them towards the man, glaring at the two of them. Doflamingo uncocked his gun, tucking it away. He grinned. “Fucking finally.”

“Can I go now? I have shit I need to do.” You folded your hands across your chest.

“You’re not staying?”

“This is no longer my hospital, why would I?”

“Suit yourself.”

Crocodile looked over the paper in his hands and nodded. “It all checks out. I guess, yeah. You can skedaddle.” You made a face at his word choice, but didn’t do much else except leave the room. They had the hospital, everyone was safe. You didn’t have to worry anymore.

Honestly, none of this felt real. You headed out the way you came, careful that no one saw you. Just because you signed over your hospital, doesn’t mean they got to know everything about it. If they found it out on their own, good for them. Maybe one day you’d figure out a way to get everything back.

You headed down the stairs, feeling like you were floating. You weren’t in your body. Everything felt fake - like a bad dream. Only, you wished you would wake up from this nightmare. You just lost everything. Your family, your livelihood, all of it. Everything was gone.

You stopped as you reached your car, seeing Marco perched on the hood. He looked over at you, standing up. The expression on his face was that of sympathy and worry. Everything hit you all at once and tears started to free fall down your face. The stress finally hit you at the same time that your body finally gave out as adrenaline left. Your knees gave out and Marco caught you in the process, holding you as you ugly cried into him. Your body shook as you sobbed, clutching onto Marco as if he would disappear at any moment as well.

[saintship]

Breathe

König x GN!reader

Request: @aixxka

Was thinking about a KorTac mission where König gets hurt and reader (was studying medicine before joining spec ops) takes care of him on a field. And he's unsure of what to do bc he never received such treatment, especially in a middle of a mission with bullets flying through. You can change whatever you want, but I hope you like this idea! Good luck and thanks if you write it!. half broken English, sorry)))

Warnings: gunfire, near death experience, blood and wounds, swearing, hurt/comfort, kissy kissy

Only thing I changed was making it an ambush of sorts rather than a mission, I’d like to finish this game so I can be as accurate as possible before writing detailed missions

Enjoy!

It was quiet on the hangar, the assortment of soldiers who were supposed to be repackaging gear and weaponry largely messing with each other and fucking off. The sun was low in the sky, casting vibrant pinks and reds streaking across the clouds and wide sky above them.

“Hey Ghost.”

Soap fiddled with a scope of a Locus, a shit-eating grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Do I know you?” Ghost huffed, clicking a container’s lid closed.

Soap glared but pressed on. “What do you call a blind-"

“No.” The soldier caught between the two of them deadpanned.

“Oh, come on, Hyena, thought laughing was your thing?” Soap put down what he was holding, shaking his teammate’s shoulder with one hand.

“Are they—wrestling?” Hyena brushed off Soap, eyes trained ahead of them.

“Steamin’ Jesus, König! Don’t kill him!” Soap walked over, hanging back from the two men.

König and Roach were grappling at each other, Roach either unfazed or ignorant to the comical difference in size.

König looked up, surprise shining through the sniper hood that covered all but his eyes.

“I would never! Although he did challenge me.” He returned his attention to Roach, grabbing him in a hold and lowering to the ground.

Hyena watched him, fascinated with how he was able to articulate his strength so precisely. In the field, König practically ripped his opponents from the earth, but playfully sparring with a teammate, he was almost gentle.

“Do you surrender?” König spoke into Roach’s helmet, his tone dramatic.

Roach shook his head wildly, then after fighting to free himself for a few more moments, huffed a breath and relaxed. König released him, pulling him to his feet.

“A wise choice- ha!” He barked a laugh when Roach pushed his chest in frustration before returning to the table with the weaponry.

Hyena smiled, quickly looking down at the mag they were holding when they realized they were staring. They couldn’t help it—König was fascinating inside and out.

A tremble under Hyena’s boots caused their smile to fade quickly.

“Anyone feel that.” Their voice was low, catching everyone’s attention. Ghost nodded.

“Was about to ask. Close up the cargo.”

The trembling grew to a rumble in the ground, and Hyena turned in the direction of Price, who was already excusing himself from a group of superiors and walking over.

“What’s going on?” Price addressed Hyena.

“No idea, sir.” They looked back around, trying to locate the source of the noise. It sounded like highway traffic back in town but more intense, urgent.

“Soap, Ghost, König, Alejandro, man the front, Hyena, Gaz, and Roach, follow but don’t make yourselves seen. I’ll be in the hangar to spread the word then join the front. GO!”

Hyena grabbed the scope Soap had been holding and attached it to the Locus, moving it to rest on their back while they dragged as much cargo out of sight as they could. The front line moved to the left of the plane, past the wall that obscured Hyena’s view until they could follow.

“Let’s move, come on!” Gaz jogged past, Hyena joining him alongside Roach while retrieving their Locus from their back. They wavered some ten meters behind their teammates, moving from cover to cover with quiet speed. As they drew closer, the source of the noise was revealed. Two armored cars drove side by side, a gunner on each.

“What the hell is this?” Hyena murmured into comms, watching the cars grow closer.

“No idea.” Alejandro sounded just as confused.

The cars slowed to a stop, the passengers of each getting out and facing Ghost and Alejandro, who’d stepped forward.

Hyena moved silently forward, but Roach’s arm stopped them. He signed close to his chest.

Not yet.

I need to listen. They signed back quickly, placing a hand on his shoulder as they moved past. They made it close enough to hear, kneeling to lean forward. Alejandro was speaking, and he was frustrated.

“..No somos tus chicos! This was a simple mistake, my friends.” Alejandro remained calm, but his voice shifted to a threatening tone. “You need to leave.”

The men front the cars fired back in Spanish too fast for Hyena to catch, clearly enraged. Alejandro hung his head, exasperated.

“Since when do we have bandits?” Hyena spoke quietly into comms.

“Since now.” Gaz retorted. Hyena’s slight amusement was cut short by a gunshot. The man on the right had fired into the sky, Soap and Ghost drew aim, taking their stance.

“HOLD IT!” Price marched down the space between areas of cover, his anger radiating in all directions. He sized up the leader, lifting his chin so his eyes bore into theirs.

“Leave now and no one gets hurt. I’m being kind here.”

Hyena glanced at Gaz, sharing a look of fearful admiration for their Captain. They turned back just as the first shot was fired. It was one of the gunners, striking Ghost in the ribs. Luckily he wore a vest, but Hyena knew that pain could not be canceled out easily. Price got a hold of the leader’s gun, smacking him in the temple with the end of it. Soap and Ghost grappled with the leader’s posse while Gaz quickly took out the two gunners.

Looking behind them, Hyena spotted several men from the cars jogging to the main hangar. They signaled silently to Roach and Gaz, nodded their head in that direction. Running between cover, bullets whizzed past Hyena’s head, occasionally making contact with their leg armor.

Looking through their scope, Hyena aimed and disarmed the first enemy they saw. They’d shot the man’s legs so he crumpled to the ground, crying out.

They gathered the ammo he’d been hauling in his arms and returned it to an open container, snapping it closed once more. The process of disarming and relocating cargo continued before Soap’s voice boomed in Hyena’s ear.

“HIT! KÖNIG’S HIT! MEDIC, NOW!”

“The only medic is at the next hangar, how bad is it?” Hyena replied steadily.

“FUCKIN’ BAD!”

“On my way.”

“There’s more coming! Whoever the hell these guys are, they’re working for someone..” Ghost’s voice grated into the comms.

Hyena rolled to their side to avoid a blast of machine gun bullets, pressing their back to the cover they’d made it to. Breathing scarcely, they steeled themselves before muttering to no one in particular.

“Hang on, König..”

They sprinted from cover to cover with speed much like a the animal they’d been named after, feeling as such due to the humid air they pushed through. At last, König’s form came into view, Hyena breaking for it and earning a bullet graze to the shoulder for their hastiness. Soap kneeled at his side.

“You know what you’re doin’?” Soap hollered over the gunfire, squinting in the dust that had been kicked up around them.

“I’m the best he’s got!” Hyena replied, waving for him to keep moving. He clapped them on the back before obliging, moving quickly to return to the hangar and take Hyena’s place.

“Hyäne..” König murmured weakly, recognition flashing over his expressive eyes.

“Hey, big guy.” Hyena threw off their backpack, surveying his wounds. He’d been struck in the same place twice, close range from the looks of it, which had torn through his protective gear. Whoever this fucker was had horrifying aim. Unlatching his vest and lifting his shirt, they saw the extent of the deep red blood pouring through his gloves and onto the dusty ground. Watching Hyena dig through her bag, the situation seemed to set into the man’s mind.

“It’s dangerous to stay here..go, Liebes..”

“What? No.” They pressed a folded patch of gauze to his wound, causing him to tense and groan quietly.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry..” They returned to their bag to retrieve a vial of alcohol, lifting the gauze momentarily to sanitize the wound and surrounding skin.

“Why are you..”

“König, save your breath!” Hyena scolded, but internally their heart broke a little. What had the world done to this man to think he deserved to bleed out in the sand to some bandit?

“Can you sit up?” They pried gently. König obeyed, lifting himself to sit against the concrete wall that shielded them. Moving his shirt further, Hyena wrapped the gauze securely around his middle.

“Too tight?” They looked up into those misty eyes that shone through his hood, and König averted his gaze, blinking. “No..”

“Good.”

“They’re retreating!” Gaz’s voice sounded in Hyena’s ear, and they smiled.

“Hear that? Just a few minutes.”

König’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Hey. Hey, hey, no, no-" Hyena held his head in her bloodied hands, tapping gently, then firmly.

“SOAP! GHOST! NEED YOU TO CARRY KÖNIG, HE’S BLACKED OUT!”

The hollering into their comms almost sounded unnatural coming from them, a usually level-headed person and soldier.

“On our way!” Soap replied quickly, the sound of the armored cars beginning to fade in the direction that they came.

Ghost and Soap managed to drag the beast of a man back to the hangar, where the real medic had been called over. Hyena didn’t leave his side, insisting she be there for the entire process. They blamed their insistence on further training their medical skills, which wasn’t untrue, but the larger truth was they couldn’t bear pacing outside the infirmary door.

“That should do it, rookie. Not bad.”

The medic guiding Hyena cut past the last knot of König’s stitches, Hyena quickly soaking up the leftover blood with a pad of gauze. They should have kept him talking, or pressed harder, gotten to him quicker, something.

“I gotta get back.��� The medic tore Hyena from their thoughts, lingering at the door.

“Of course. Thank you.”

They nodded, slipping out of sight with a tap to the doorframe. While König was still out, Hyena decided to slip his sniper hood back on to make him more comfortable when he awoke. A shame, they thought. His features were hardened from war, but especially relaxed this way, he was undeniably beautiful. Scars ran near his nose and along his jaw, accentuating the sort of ruffian handsomeness that was brought together by his dark brown, shaggy locks and stubble. After replacing the hood, they began to clean their station while waiting for him to wake. Hardly a minute had passed before they heard a sharp inhale.

Hyena rushed to his side, one hand hovering over his arm.

“Took you long enough.” Hyena spoke gently, letting him acclimate to the bright lights. He hummed in acknowledgment, attempting to sit up before quickly retracting with a hiss.

“Take it easy, we’re taking a day before leaving for the snatch and grab.” Hyena sighed. “You scared me out there.”

König hummed a short laugh. “You are..very brave.”

“Aw..” Hyena shrugged playfully.

“No, no..” König reached out, resting a hand on their forearm. His touch was warm, and the absence of his gloves made Hyena’s face deepen in color.

“I am..not used to this.” His voice wavered with uncertainty. “You are—kind.”

Their heart shattered all over again.

“When you’re hurt, König, when you’re down and bleeding, you deserve to be saved.”

König blinked, and a warm silence enveloped the two soldiers as his heart rate monitor chirped with every moment.

“You put my hood back on.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thought it would, I don’t know how you feel about-"

“Liebes?”

Hyena quieted, silenced by his addressing and the hand moving to hold her own. His thumb rested on their knuckles, his palm enveloping their hand in comparison.

“You can take it off.”

Hyena didn’t reply, looking between their hands and his gentle eyes. Their blush heated more at the closeness.

“I will.” He’d decided, and Hyena was too stunned to stop him as he moved the bed rail to stand with a sharp inhale of pain.

“You should..”

König lifted the back of it first. They’d seen his face, sure, but a medical state of mind is not one that focuses heavily on intimacy. In fact, thinking back to the exposed skin they’d felt while stopping the bleeding, there were many moments that had they been in a different state of mind, they would have practically melted from embarrassment.

He let the front of the hood fall from his face, revealing those eyes and dark eyelashes accentuated with the remaining war paint Hyena had failed to remove. It was strange, seeing such a large man fiddle with something in his hands and maintain a reserved body language.

“The truth is, I don’t show my face often, to them, because—I want to protect myself.”

His features moving with his words was almost too much.

“But you, you..” König trailed off, letting one hand holding the hood fall to his side while gesturing to Hyena with the other.

“What does Liebes mean?” Hyena murmured suddenly.

“Oh. Well, uh,” König scratched the back of his head briefly. “It means uh, what would you say? Darling.”

Hyena blinked rapidly, studying their boots for a moment. Their attention was brought back to the man in front of her by him stepping forward. Their head rose to look to his automatically.

“I need you to know that I’m showing you—myself, and calling you these things because..I feel differently about you than I do them.”

“In-in what way?” Hyena scolded themselves for stuttering, brought to shambles by this man before them.

“May I show you?” His voice was hardly a murmur.

“Yes.”

His hand came up to their head, cradling the back of it and resting a thumb on the sensitive skin behind their ear.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, König..”

Ever the worrier. Hyena tugged gently on his shoulders and he took the message and swiftly took their lips to his. He was hesitant, but feeling Hyena’s receptiveness to his touch let slip his neediness. He breathed shakily through his nose, lowering his head to kiss them deeper. Hyena hummed low in their throat when they felt his tongue, König beginning to emit lovely sounds in response. They separated by a centimeter, breathing deeply.

“I want to be with you, Hyäne.”

His confession was low and quiet, as if he was hardly ready to admit it.

“I want that too.”

Hyena returned to kiss him, relishing in the arms they felt cradle their back. It was not often they thanked an enemy team, but tonight, they did just that.

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

THE NIGHT BELONGS TO YOU - chapter 4

Blade x fem reader fanfic

MASTERLIST

Summary - Reader's first mission for stellaron hunters takes unexpected turn as IPC's attack unforeseen by Elio forces her to act outside of script

Chapter 4 – If your wings won’t find you heaven I will bring it down like an ancient bygone 

 - Oh shit. Is this a part of the plan? - they exchanged anxious glances. 

 - It was not in the script...Fuck. - Blade cursed. He gently took her jaw in his hand and turned her head to the side to see if she got hurt by the bullet. Thankfully, not even a scratch was visible on her skin. Relieved man gave her a domineering look and muttered lowly. – Stay behind, I will get the job done. Car is bulletproof. 

 He came outside. It was truly a sight to behold, his burning sword dealing with enemies one after another, while he danced among them with infernal precision, avoiding all of their attacks.  Y/n didn’t plan to be a damsel in distress either, she quietly put on bulletproof vest Blade kept in his car just in case and searched her surroundings for a  weapon. She exhaled deeply at the sight of loaded glock. Trying to not think too much about it she opened the door, came out of car and kneeled beside it. Covered by the machine she shot two people who got way too close to her partner in crime for her liking.  

His pupils blown wide when he saw her and she could swear he wanted to bend her over his knee and give her a good spanking.  With the speed of the lightning he appeared by her side and swung his sword. She heard painful moan from behind her. She turned around. Body of IPC soldier fell to the ground few seconds later. If Blade didn’t hurry she would be dead by now. 

 - Thank you for saving me. - y/n was too ashamed to look him in the eye. 

 - Didn’t I tell you to stay in safety? What is wrong with you? - he growled scanning their surroundings for more potential opponents. 

 - I have some experience with fighting and it’s not my style to let others sacrifice for me. I’m sorry if I was a problem. I will think twice next time.  

 Blade only groaned in response. 

  - Let’s get away from here, soon more of them will probably show up. - he barely managed to end this sentence when whistle of a bullet cut him off. Red blood spilled over his shirt around midriff area. He threw a knife in direction of his opponent and judging by sound that came from their side, he managed to aim right into the throat.  

 - Are you ok? - y/n asked in panic. He snorted. 

 - I am never OK. Every single one of my days is filled with pain of immortality, I want this pain to stop and I forbid you to stand between me and my end. You cannot safe me. You shouldn’t try to.- Blade pressed his hand to the wound, coughing. -  And for Aeons sake, never sacrifice yourself for me, no matter what. It would be a waste to have you suffer for such hopeless individual as me. You can be a pain in the neck, do you know?  

Now y/n really had enough of this.  

 - Since when are you so talkative, hmm? I thought you considered yourself too doomed to even open your mouth in my presence? - she tried to give him a serious look. 

 - Don’t be such a child. - he responded, clearly irritated. - As long as you don’t do any stupid moves, think whatever you want of me. We didn’t fully trust you at first because Elio couldn’t see much into your future in this timeline so there was no need to get all chatty, was it? Now you proved you are willing to cooperate and how are we supposed to co-work if we don’t communicate? - he tried reasoning with her, but his voice came out weak due to his injuries. 

 Despite her annoyance she took him by the hand to drag him into the car, she couldn’t let him just bleed out in the middle of the road.  

 - You tell me. You tell me how are we supposed to work without communication since from the beginning you only tell me what to do. You guys get all those scripts and never tell me a single word out of them. - Y/n raised her voice. 

 - Stop it already, there is no time to scream at each other right now. - Blade gave up. - Do you know how to drive? 

 - No. I’m sorry. 

 - In that case I still have some strength to drive us to the nearest safe place, one of the deserted houses we occupy during our missions occasionally. It’s a few minutes away.- he decided. - For now I will quickly wrap bandage around my waist to not bleed out before we get there. Not that I would mind getting rid of this reincarnation that is already way too long.  

 - It’s hard to do on your own, let me help. That was my main function during the time we tried to save Arkona. I had to fight sometimes but I was mostly taking care of other’s wounds. I had some experience in that, I was the only caretaker of my mother after her accident so my first thought when the hell begun was to become a nurse.  

 - I do this for myself for centuries, I will be fine without your help. - he instantly rejected her proposition.  

 - But it will be faster with some help. 

 - It would be faster if you didn’t whine so much. - he muttered while handing her a bandage roll with loud sigh. - But if you so insist I guess I would rather let you do this than fight all the way there. 

 *** 

She supported his weakened body on the way to the couch. Place was tiny and not very neat, but that was all they had for now. Blade barely walked, there was no way he could endure trip back home in such state. 

 - Your wound needs to be cleansed and taken care of. - Y/n informed him. - Don’t even try to argue.  

 - I don’t need this. - he insisted. - If it’s so important to you, you can find ointment in the kitchen if I remember correctly, shelf near the door, right next to hydrogen peroxide.  

She didn’t waste any time and quickly grabbed two bottles. When she came back to the living room she almost dropped them. Blade took off both the bandage and his shirt. His toned chest glistened with sweat, she looked down at the wound. Surprisingly, it didn’t look as drastic as it should.  

 - It’s a part of my curse, my body heals from everything at inhuman speed. Tomorrow I will be fine and we can return to headquarters to report our miserable failure. There is no need to call for help for somebody like me, who only craves death and self-destruction and regenerates like Wolverine. 

 - Have you watched that movie? - Y/n was a bit surprised Blade used a modern pop-culture reference. 

- Not really, Silver Wolf told me all about him, he’s her favourite superhero.  

Arkonian smiled at him recalling all cute moments her beloved duo had together. 

-You know, - he muttered - for a second I hoped that today will be the last day of my life, I always do. Why do you insist on fixing me? Are you stupid? This blade is broken beyond repair and you are gonna cut yourself if you try to maintain it. - he looked her in the eyes in challenging way.  

 - What if I understand this and I don’t want to fix you at all? - she took a risk of being vulnerable.  

 - In that case why do you care about me? - confusion was visible on his face.  

 - Can I tell you something about my life before Xianzhou Xianzhou? 

 - I see no need to do this but if you want to I won’t stop you.  

Y/n poured a bit of hydrogen peroxide on gauze and pressed it against his wound, He didn’t even flinch or hold his breath.  

 - Since I remembered I only could rely on my mother, father died right before my 10th birthday and we had no other relatives besides my auntie who lived in a big city and came to visit our village like twice a year. But she used to bring me expensive gifts and was very laid back so as a kid I was enchanted by her.   

We lived on a small farm near the holy mountain. We loved this place despite the amount of work we had to do around it . My psychic gift of mediumship had a chance to really bloom thanks to closeness of Saintcross. I felt blessed by the Goddess of divination and guidance who according to legends lived on it’s peak. We called her Light for all the lost souls in our prayers. - when y/n closed her eyes she could still smell flowercrowns of roses they used to sacrifice during the most important holyday related to the Goddess.  

 - When I was a pre-teen my mother had a terrible accident. Once my mom tried to repair the roof on her own as we had no man in the house and she was a strong, capable woman. She fell down from the ladder. Even tho doctor came as soon as he could and she barely managed to survive this – even after rehabilitation her body was not the same. We suspected they put her bones together in a wrong way or that she got some nerve damage. Her right hand lost most of it’s dexterity, and her back was in constant pain.  - Blade looked down at his own hands. Y/n stared at the wall, overwhelmed by homesickness. 

 - Till Arkona was attacked we went by thanks to painkillers she had to take. But when this crisis happened she lost access to them. She was in such pain she used to pray for death. I couldn’t watch this anymore, but she didn’t have anybody else. She refused to eat more and more often. I massaged her hand and back just like doctor taught me to, but without her pills it just wasn’t enough.  

Tears run down her face. She needed a break so she took the ointment and applied it to the wound. Blade didn’t rush her, he just let her gather her thoughts.  

 - My mother had a heart defect that is passed down in our family, I don’t have it but my mother, grandma and greatgrandma were born with it. It never caused her bigger problems while she was medicated, but when she lost access to her pills... One night her back pain was extremely overwhelming, she cried so hard her heart couldn’t take it anymore. She passed away. I lost my only family that night, auntie stopped contacting us as soon as she heard about mother’s accident so she doesn’t count.- Y/n laughed bitterly. 

 - Still, I felt relief. - she admitted without shame. - Not because taking care of her was so hard and I couldn’t take her screams of pain anymore tho it was true. I felt relief cause she didn’t have to suffer anymore. I felt greatest pain of my life too, but I didn’t have the right to want her to stay with me when nothing could have been done for her. I couldn’t be happy in my old home knowing that this happiness would be build on her suffering, even if I was so scared, so terrified and I never knew anything else. I know how to let people go when it is necessary and I fucking hate how all things fade.  - Blade reached out for her hand but she didn’t even pay attention to him anymore, so he retreated. 

 - After that I joined rebellion against abominations as a nurse, wanting to use skills I learned for my mother’s sake for the greater good. I was taught how to shoot as a part of the training, but I was always more interested in medical parts of it. But even for my beloved Arkona nothing could have been done.- her voice broke a little. - When it became clear that all is lost in the last desperate attempt to save anything from our culture and civilization we assembled a huge starship with all we had. Few dozens survivors, the last of Arkonians. We somehow managed to get away from our dying planet despite abominations circling it, but our ship crashed on nearby planet due to defects in it’s construction. I was the only one that lived, only because of Lan’s blessing I received that day. Till this day I feel constant survivor’s guilt. Good people found me and for a small price of my mother’s wedding band I took as a memento previously,- her voice choked oh her emotions-  they took me to Xianzhou Luofu.

Blade looked at her with endless compassion in his eyes. She couldn’t believe, that a man like him was capable of such gentleness. He felt this kind of empathy only very old and experienced people are able to feel. With wide open eyes he stared at her in silence. She picked up fresh bandage and put it around his waist.  

 - So be sure of that, I don’t help you cause I hope that you will get better or will rediscover your will to live. I know none of those things will happen. I accept you the way you are, broken blade with all it’s weak points and sharp bits. I won’t try to stop you from death when it comes for you for real cause I have no right to do so. I didn’t massage my mothers hand in hope that it will be better. - she sat down next to him after making sure the bandage was secured. - I just hoped to bring her some relief. We all age and sooner or later most of us will have to live with disabled bodies. Some of us like Firefly have to go through illness and it’s symptoms sooner then the others and all they can do is to try to give their existence meaning and find joy in it despite pain they go through. To me lives like those matter, can be beautiful and worth living.  - she looked him straight in the eye, hesitance visible in her gaze. - If you don’t want my help I no longer will push myself on you as I have no right to make such decisions for you either. I will accept it and treat you like a human being with his own mind and right to control what happens with his body. I don’t expect you to be grateful for things you didn’t ask for.  

Finally, she stopped speaking. She felt that she bared her souls too much, for too long, that she burdened him with her grief... Before she managed  to drown herself in shame and guilt he spoke up.  

 - I don’t remember much from my life as Yingxing. Last clear memories I have ... Sight of this forsaken woman, killing me time and time again. Her sword plunging into my insides. Carving her cursed mantra into my brain... “out of five people...”. Yes. Even when I think of this, phantom pains pierce through my whole body. All I want is for them to stop. The few things from Yingxing life I can still recall... Eyes of the man whose arrogance put me in this situation, man I promised to kill...I promised to her.  

Arkonian shifted uncomfortably in her seat but the sight of madness in his eyes stopped her from interrupting. Unaware of her reaction Blade continued, his attention for once not on y/n.  

 - I also remember joy of creation. How my hands moved, so precisely. My muscle memory never failed me. They never failed me.  My talented hands and things that they created where my joy, my pride. I never imagined that one day I could lose it. At first when I realized that my hands got damaged beyond repair in process of torture she inflicted on me and nothing can be done about it I became depressed. Completely apathetic to the world around me. I lived in wilderness, glad that at least I can still use the sword, but I had no purpose. Eventually driven by desperation I decided to sacrifice myself to become weapon, my last creation. Just like that, it didn’t matter to me anymore that I couldn’t craft swords,  I forged myself into a Blade, and I seek fight cause the only way can a Blade die – is to get broken while it is unsheathed. Before that will happen I plan to do anything possible to take away life of the man who manipulated me, used my arrogance against me and turned me into this monster! - Blade almost screamed out the last part, aura of insanity surrounded him. 

 Y/n thought to herself, that the one who truly changed his life into nightmare was the woman who killed him so many times instead. Whole thing seemed super shady to her – Blade had no memories left and all he spoke about was based on his assumptions and all that mad woman told him when she was attacking him. Still, y/n let him speak further. 

 - I don’t crave to be the man I once was again, I have no such ambition. I gave myself new purpose and I want to fulfill it with all my potential, unless death will bless me with an ending to my pain sooner. You don’t plan to keep me from it? Very well, it would be unwise of you to even dream of it. - he went silent for a few seconds, and closed his eyes. Y/n rubbed his shoulder trying to calm him down a bit and he let her do so. When he opened them again he looked way more sane. - Most people won’t believe this due to drastic changes in my behaviour occurring when I become mara struck, but my mind is just as sharp as it has always been. I don’t need to make machines with my own hands in order to know perfectly how they will work. I lost most of my interest in my past hobbies by now, but my opinions are still very valuable. That’s why Elio requested my assistance for the project which resulted in creation of the machine he wanted us to try out. I won’t pretend that I wasn’t a little bit excited by the opportunity. - he choked on the last words that came out of his mouth. Attitude and energy faded away from his system at the same time, he looked pale, tired and small.  

 - Don’t worry – y/n interrupted, her hands hesitantly leaving his body. - There will be another occasion to do so. For now please try to rest, so your body can regenerate properly, even if you don’t want it to. The sooner we will be able to come back to headquarters the better. - she hanged back for a moment before she spoke up again. - Blade? Are your hands in pain? 

He glared at her through his long eyelashes. She felt her heart skip a beat but tried to repress her feelings for the man in front of her. It wasn’t the right time for such things.  

 - Yes, they are. Sometimes whole my body is in pain. Why would you ask? 

 - If you wouldn’t mind I would gladly massage them for you on the worse days.  - man glared at her in response to such a brash idea – It used to help my mother a bit so maybe it could be of use to you as well. It will not make them work better with your kind of damage I believe, but it might make them less stiff and relieve the pain to some extent. 

 - I will consider this, but if I were you I wouldn’t get my hopes too high. - Blade answered, knowing already he wanted to give it a try, even tho he did not expect it to help in any way.  

She got up and left the room taking hydrogen peroxide and ointment with her. It was a long day for both of them and she felt it in every single one of her muscles. 

 - I take the bedroom, you make yourself comfortable here. See you tomorrow in the morning. - y/n name bid him farewell, walking towards the door.  

 - Sure. - Blade came back to his usual, laconic self. His gaze followed her till she disappeared on the other side of the door. 

***  

Kitchen filled with delicious aroma of freshly made comfort food, a cup of hot tea and snacks found in the cabinet. Y/n was extremely grateful to the last team who used the flat for replenishing food supplies. Could morning be any better? 

As soon as Blade entered the kitchen with only shower towel wrapped around his waist,  Y/n came to a conclusion that it apparently could. His moist skin was glistening, every muscle emphasized in morning light. Where the wound should have been, there was only a scar.  

 - Good morning. Eat this, you deserve it for saving my life yesterday. - she passed him plate with omelette. He took it without a word and sat down. 

 - Don’t mention it. How did you sleep? - He tasted the food and his pupils widened. 

 - It could have been better, but it should be me who asks this question. What about your wound? - she bit her lip. 

 - I told you already. - he rolled his eyes at her. - You don’t need to worry, my body heals itself quickly. Can’t you see? I’m fine.  By the way, y/n? 

 - Yes, sir? 

 - This is fucking delicious.  

His compliment made her way happier than she would like to be. The amount of power this man held over her, truly shameful. There was no time for that right now, they still had things to do. She cleared her throat before speaking. 

 - When should we come back to headquarters? I bet others worry about us.  

 - I don’t think they do, everybody knows I’m basically indestructible. - Blade declared, full of himself. - What kind of bad thing could happen to you while I watch over you? 

 - I mean yesterday it was pretty close. If you were just a tiny bit slower... 

 - Yeah, that’s why I plan to train you myself when we return. I don’t trust nobody else with that. After we clean up get into the car, we are going back this morning.- Blade decided. 

*** 

Y/n stared at him for a few minutes before he sighed and questioned her openly, his attention seemingly on the road ahead. 

 - What is it?  

 - Why did you really open up to me? I know it’s not because of this mission. It’s not in your style. - she played with the hem of her tank top anxiously, now avoiding eye contact with him. 

 - If you really have to know that, the day before you fainted I had a serious talk with Elio. That’s why I knew exactly when to appear in front of his door. - he smirked. 

Arkonian assumed, that this was the conversation she overheard. The one she mentioned to Firefly. She kept that to herself. 

 - In short, he finally saw your future. You are more important than you know, but what matters the most for me is that you truly belong with us, won’t betray us and you get along with the girls. - he gave her genuine smile. It was her first time seeing him like that  and she already knew it was her favourite sight in the whole wide world. - My company is not the most pleasant one and my mental health is on all time low but if it doesn’t bother you, I guess I don’t mind you hanging out with me.  

 - So we are friends now? - her eyes lit up with hope.  

 - We’ll see about that.  

Y/n pouted at this dry response, yet somehow she felt better now, as if the weight of his distrust was taken off her shoulders. The road back home has passed quickly and this time with no complications.  

 *** 

Mission related to sigil got postponed. Elio explained to them, that untill he will be able to identify the reason of his mistake and eliminate it for the sake of safety of everyone involved in fulfilling scripts based on his prophetic credibility, all the missions are put on hold. Such things happened before, very rarely. Usually Elio pushing himself to channel as much information as possible in a short time and overexerting himself turned out to be the reason. Few days of rest were enough for him to get a grip in the past.  

Y/n wondered if that means Blade will return to his previous, cold attitude towards her, but it didn’t seem to be the case.  

 - Well, prophecies are one thing, but don’t you believe I can also think for myself and judge people correctly? - good-looking swordsman grumbled, sipping coffee from the mug he got as a present from Firefly. - I have been roaming known universe for centuries, saw countless lives pass. There is not a single human experience I wouldn’t be familiar with, I have seen it all.  

High pitched sound of microwave’s signal cut him off, with a growl he pulled out two meat pockets from it and passed one of them to y/n. She bit into it cravingly, spicy flavour attacked her taste buds but she wouldn’t want it any other way. Blade sat right next to her at the table. 

 - You were ready to risk your life just to make sure I won’t get hurt, I did the same for you. That's not the way enemies or strangers usually behave towards each other, am I right? - his patience was running thin. - I know I can trust you. I want to believe that. Do you trust me?  

 - I mean, sure, you guys did kidnap me like two months ago... but considering the kind of damage IPC would be able to inflict on entire galaxies if they had monopoly on my gift  I guess I can forgive you. But only because you all did give me a chance to go away if I wished to do so. - Arkonian smiled at slightly ashamed man.  

 - Oh come on, you know what I mean. Do you trust me? - he repeated, his sharp eyes gazing into hers. - Whoever you see when you look at what’s left of me. Do you trust that person? 

Flashbacks from the last few days appeared in her mind. This man protected her from danger, let her touch his body in weak, vulnerable state. He seemed to truly care about her when there was no reason to do so, no profit from it. Most importantly, he bared his true self, broken fragments of his soul in front of her. She answered with full certainty. 

 - Yes, I do.  

 - Why? - his eyes darkened, raw emotion took them over.  

 - Oh, our lovebirds got up already? - Melodic, feminine voice interrupted their conversation. They didn’t even notice when Kafka came to the kitchen, summoned by alluring smell of breakfast. Blade’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. - This looks so good, can I have one? 

  Male scoffed with irritation, but gave her the last meat pocket regardless. 

 - Why are you grumpy like that, Bladie? - woman teased. - You can’t behave all nonchalantly towards y/n when Wolfie has a whole footage of you running through half of our base just to catch her in perfect time before she faints in front of Elio’s office. What a sight! You were like chivalrous knight in hurry to save the honor of the lady of his heart! I’m so glad that part of Elio’s prophecy was correct. - Kafka clearly had the time of her life, while Blade prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. - Have fun you two! - she blew a kiss to her local medium girl and went outside.  

 - If your question still stands I just wanted to say, that I begun trusting you because you were honest with me during our mission and I am aware of how much it cost you... -  Arkonian smirked – but now situation got way more interesting. You are never gonna let me down, right ,,Bladie”? 

 Reference flew over his head unfortunately. In desperate attempt to distract her from teasing him further Blade decided it was his time to ask questions.  

 - I’m glad you appreciate my sincerity. I hope you can be just as frank with me in return. So, some of those things you confessed to me yesterday about your life at Xianzhou...  

 - Yes, dear? 

 - How close was your friendship with this whole... Master Zhang? - he just couldn’t help but be a little bit jealous that this guy got to co-work with her, not to mention in his area of expertise. Blade was sure that if he was still able to craft, she wouldn’t even look at Zhang’s (probably mediocre in comparison) weapons. Obviously, what’s the point of wasting good spells on them if she could bless his masterpieces instead? 

Y/n just rolled her eyes at him in disbelief. His phone vibrated, she glanced at it curiously, knowing it was never locked either way. Message from Elio made her choke a bit on the last bite of her food. 

"Everybody gather in my office immediately, it's urgent." 

[team-sanvich2]

Is it Speeding Bullet O'clock? No?

Well too bad, I can't sleep and these two are in my head now, so, ENJOY!!

Riffle to the heart, and a bat to the knee.

Tagging @kombucha-enjoyer

"It is a simple mission I believe you can handle" the mysterious woman spoke from the TV Screen at both Team BLU and RED'S base, explaining their latest task...that was simply a made up plan to test the limits of the two she felt were lacking in their own ways in their fields. "Do this flawlessly and I shall take back my latest employee reviews of your performance, I know yhat family means a lot to you in particular, but it cannot be something you should LET take over your thoughts in this line of work, after all, you don't want them to see you in a casket once you're out of here, right?"

"Yes ma'am" both men said but at opposite sides of the territory.

Starting with Mick, the RED team's Sniper, a man of few words, takes his position and work very seriously, and won't let the opinions of others dictate wether or not he'll succeed in it. However, familial issues are hard to simply not ignore, specially when everytime you look into making contact, the people that were supposed to love you unconditionally now take every minute to criticize your choices, even if nowhere else was open for you, not even your dream profession.

As for Antonie, the BLU team's Scout, his own struggles were more direct, his father had been a victim of torture and experimentation at the hands of the RED Medic, his head had recently been retrieved from the enemy base, but his body remains unresponsive, Dell and Fritz are doing what they can to make sure their leader can go back to being his former self, even if their options were running low. Antonie had retrieved the head after discovering it in the abandoned hospital, Antonie brought him quickly to his team's Medic to wake him up from his coma, he was successful...but what is a functional head when there were no arms and legs to move around with it? Worst of all was that the Scout refused to see his own father wake up and visit him, it felt like it was his fault for getting himself killed by the RED spy, it was his fault for not doing enough, and it was his fault that his dad was almost lost forever.

"Here's the scene, in a abandoned Mann.Co field dubbed "harvest", a piece of important information was lost there due to my...late Assistant, Mr. Bidwell was his name, being too careless, but seems like Mann.co decided that moving him upwards in the company was the better option...But enough about old grudges, retrieve that document, Ms Pauling will be waiting to pick it up in the morning, you have the entire night to find it, I heard the enemy team has their eyes on it, do not disappoint me". The TV was turned off and both mercenaries went on their own to the abandoned field.

The Scout arrived on a scooter provided to him by Dell, he made sure to take his lessons with soldier to heart and explored the area for a back entrance, or at the very least, a hole on the fence. The Sniper however was more calm about it and simply drove over and parked somewhere he wouldn't be noticed, and immediately jumped over a fence, he searched the property on foot, taking note on his gut feelings, that he wasn't alone, but that in that very moment, he was being watched, prompting him to pull out one of his recent crafts, the cleaner's Carbine.

The Aussie man could take a few guesses on who it was that was stalking him, the enemy team was almost a copy and pasted version of his own, perhaps their spy was back in action, maybe the traitorous Dell was building some sentries to try a ambush, perhaps they sent over their Pyro, but he was not expecting that they sent out their own speedy "force of nature", as a couple of gunshots caught him by surprise, forcing him to crouch around the scene.

Antonie held similar thoughts, he was relived he wouldn't have to see the RED Spy again, or their Pyro, hell, he thanked whatever being was watching over the earth that it wasn't the Medic, but their Sniper? He had forgotten about their interaction, at least until he saw him again. Their last encounter almost repeated itself if Anotnie did not dodge a literal bullet from his riffle, what was worse? It was a quieter version. He needed a different approach, he knew the Sniper was aware of his presence, he knew he could get taken down ANY MOMENT, so what to do? He rummages through his bag, and finds a old friend, just what he needed.

Mick had settled in a safe zone that allowed him to view the entire property, every blind spot was now in his sights, that Scout would not get through him...Although, he thought about it for a moment, unless team Blu employed a new one, Scout was much different, maybe it was his countless encounters of being met with bullets, blades and explosions that made them pick someone more adapted to the job...Or he BECAME that someone, fact was that...it was too quiet, at least until he hit himself with his riffle thanks to a baseball hitting the tip of the lenses that were now broken, making him realize that this was the same Scout with the bloody sandman baseball bat.

He runs downstairs with his submachine gun in hand and from time to time he hears the running steps of the runner, he doesn't talk much, at least not anymore if what the Soy said was to be believed, he doesn't call much attention to himself, in fact it made it seem like he was merely part of the wind blowing outside, and he seemed to be more...experienced, perhaps team Blu found his match made in heaven, professional versus professional, and that was solidified by getting hit by a spiked baseball bat right om his back, making him bleed.

"AUUUGH! YOU BLOODY-" And he was gone again, thankfully, Ludwig was kind enough to lend him some spare medkits, after one sip from the bottle, Sniper gathered his stuff and changed the lenses on the riffle, and while doing so, he hears something climbing on the roof, he quickly tosses the ball back as a distraction and was met with the dark blueish shadow, who collected the ball and was ready to jump to the next roof, only almost get his foot shot, and the chase was on.

Antonie doesn't jump Into battle immediately, he runs off while delivering shots with the Soda Popper, it doesn't scare off Sniper from his spot, but he got his attention, signified by the many bullets that destroyed the walls of the wooden buildings. It was like both were stepping comfortably out of their comfort zone, Scout was using his speed in the means of blending in the darkness and not being noticed, and Sniper was now more on the move cause his only target knew where he was and was taunting him, but not in a way that felt like mocking, more like two similar minds playing a game of chess.

Eventually, both men run out of bullets, and thus, the chase has to stop and both meet at the center of the "Harvest". Their melee weapons were drawn, both shocked that they had the same idea of packing more than one blunt object, Antonie had equipped the Boston Basher, and Mick had a Prinny Machete, they give the other one look and charged towards each other like two Demoknights, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Antonie used his speed and smaller build to his advantage to slip through but Mick’s longer limbs were also a advantage and he pulled the younger male and almost gave his neck a second scar.

"Running around like a coward will get you nowhere!"

"Is called preserving energy Moron, you should try that since you seem to use most of it on headshots"

The Aussie man charges at him once more, "I am a professional with standards, I need to be efficient! Besides, at least I'm doing my part! You just run around and go back to your team with nothing!" He gets a punch on the stomach but blocks the bat with his blade.

"I am TRYING to Improve! And is not like any of them cared, and the only that did probably stopped after I ROYALLY SCREWED UP!" He gets pushed back but tries to strike the Sniper repeatedly, in the same motion, hoping to hit him.

"A price to pay in this industry! Those are still your coworkers! If you don't trust their abilities then you might as well not trust yourself!"

"Easy for you to say! You probably get praised a lot for, let me guess, sitting still, shooting asshats all day long, and having the most calm time of your life!" At this point, neither are using their weapons, seems like the fight became more psychological...or...it was a weird...bonding moment.

"Says the one that probably strokes his own ego that might as well be 12 feet tall!"

"OH I WISH! All I have is the weight of failure slowing me down! And my team underestimating me DOES! NOT! HELP!"

"WELL I WISH MY WORK WAS MORE RECOGNIZED! I have done plenty for those Poggers, and do I get a thank you? No! SLEEPLESS WEEKS OF SURVIVING ON NOTHING BUT COFFEE AND FISH CAKES ALL DOWN THE FUCKING DRAIN!"

"AND I WISH I WASN'T SUCH A BIG SCREW UP THAT I ALMOST LOST THE ONLY PERSON IN THAT FUCKING BASE THAT SEES ME AS A PERSON AND IS MY ONLY FUCKING FAMILY..."

"...family?" He dropped the Machete in hopes the Scout would trust him.

"...Look, we got off track...what are you looking for? Folders? Weapons? Food? Just grab it and get out! I'm...I'm not in the mood anymore..."

Antonie feels his shoulder grt grabbed, but not Ina way that felt forceful, it felt...warm...welcoming, he turned and saw the Sniper had taken off his hat as a sign of a truce,

"Please...I insist, you have no obligation to tell me the rest but...you fought good, dare I say this was the most fun I had in a while" he let's out a chuckle at the end, followed by the muffled giggles of the Scout, who finally takes off his gas mask.

"The feeling is mutual, good to see a Sniper that actually puts up a fight unlike Ke-..My Sniper"

"Hehe, and is nice to see a quiet Scout for once...I think that spot has a nice view"

"Lead the way then".

Once both were on the roof, Mick offers a bottle from the Medkit, taking notice of some bullets that left some cuts on the runner, he made a expression that looked outrageous after kne gulp.

"Why is this stuff so bitter?" Antonie said, while trying to find a label with anything written on it that could shed some light ton the Ingridients,

"Trust me mate, you DON'T want to know what they put in there, just chug it with your nose plugged" the poor guy follows his instructions, only to feel his nose burning up,

"FUCKING HELL! AAAH!"

"Pffff, HAHHAHA! Bloody hell, I can't believe you fell for that!"

"Oh haha, very funny...you wanted to talk about something or just mock me?"

The Sniper adjusted his posture and took a deep breath,

"You had mentioned family...I couldn't help but...find your situation similar to mine...my...relatives aren't that fond of my position"

"Well, at least they aren't here...As in, not in the base...cause...that's where my...Person is...and he went through a lot...it was my fault and...I can't face him! What am I supposed to say? "Sorry I tripped and got myself killed as well as getting a scar as a memento?!"...I...can't even look at him..."

"...seems like you are going through a lot"

"Says you, you put up a good fight but...I don't remember your team saying anything"

The Sniper scratches the back of his neck, "I might have exaggerated, is not that it NEVER happens...but I see your Sniper and think..."I want that"...tho I guess if he's actually some lazy asshat then I guess I shouldn't compare myself"

"Yeah...same...your Scout is...Loud but...the team at least acknowledges that he's there...and they don't seem so harsh on him too...weird how the other person seems to have it better"

"But you don't know the whole story...it is weird"

Both look at the night sky for a while, Antonie had also taken off his goggles as Mick did with his glasses, it took a hour but they eventually went back to looking for what they were there for, oddly enough, there were two safes there, they open it with their IDs and find the folders they were looking for, the weird part was both were copies, not the original.

Antonie decided to let Mick drive him back to his base along with his scooter as the gas was down to zero, both talked some more until they were close enough for Antonie to go back safely but also far enough so that Mick wouldn't get shot by the sentries.

This odd friendship developed more and more as both would randomly see each other during matches, Antonie accidentally finding where Mick is hiding to chat or to share some sandwiches or to even nap on the same spot. Other times, Mick would see Antonie looking over the territory and use the light on the riffle to show him where there's ammo and medkits.

It flew under the radar to both teams, even Anotnie’s father...but Ms. Pauling had other plans with that information, after informing the administrator, she tried to pull the same stunt she did with the RED Demoman and the BLU soldier, but no matter what, the two seemed to be back together, soon enough she just gave up as those two were selective on what to tell the other, and Pauling even has a feeling both men never believed her words.

Unlike her and the Administrator, Mick and Antonie seem to talk their loudest in silence...but also in each other's company, maybe this would inspire some old friends to reconsider their hate if they were to be found out...and maybe the lines of like and love would get blurry for the Blue Runner and the Red Silencer.

[tiger-moran]

Still thinking about writing the sequel to my last fic but now I'm getting irate with ACD for all the canonical contradictions again

(How can Watson and the police not know who Moran is in The Empty House when they knew who he was in the late 1880s?

And if they did all know who Moran was in the 1890s then why did none of them seem to have any suspicion of him even when an acquaintance of his was 'mysteriously' shot dead? That would tend to suggest Moran was above suspicion because... he didn't actually do it?

And Watson never refers to the actual trial of Moran, he never states the actual motive for Adair's murder, Moran is specifically stated to be alive many years later. If Moran killed Adair he should be dead within weeks probably given the speed of trials then, and Watson should have some better idea what the motive for the murder was by the time he writes the story. But he still doesn't seem to know what the motive was and Moran is alive.

I mean... were we really, genuinely supposed to infer from this that there was a real possibility that Moran didn't do it? Because there seems to be more evidence that he didn't than that he actually did (also no witnesses and the physical evidence is all completely circumstantial or two badly mangled bullets which couldn't possibly have been compared properly due to the damage and also when forensics was in its infancy then, also no motive even suggested except some petty reason that doesn't sound at all like a reason someone like Moran would murder a man over. Some sort of lover's tiff between him and Adair or Adair being infatuated with Moran and Moran not being interested and having to take extreme measures to fend him off is still far more believable than 'Adair found out he was cheating and this threatened the income he got from cheating at cards' because, firstly how much money was he really going to be making from cheating at a few card games, he wasn't even seemingly playing for huge amounts anyway and secondly, Moran was rich, he had loads of money, what's he supposed to have done with that? The motive suggested is flimsy as hell. Also let's not forget that Adair had broken off his engagement not that long before he died too).

Were we supposed to suspect even that someone else might have organised the murder instead using one of their other contacts? Someone like Moriarty? I know a lot of stuff was just because ACD simply did not care but did he ever have it in mind that Moriarty had survived because it definitely feels like at the very least he was trying to keep his options open with him, the same as he probably was with never actually showing Holmes's death - everything is too vague, nothing is ever confirmed, a lot of details just do not make sense and Watson never sees anything that would confirm to him never mind to us the readers that Moriarty was dead, or that Moran was actually guilty of Adair's murder.

And whatever ACD thought, Watson has definitely lied to the readers somewhere - the same as with Moriarty, he cannot have both known about Moran and not known about Moran at the same time. So why has he lied, what is he hiding?

(He probably did know Moran even before Holmes knew anything about him - their army careers overlapped, they very likely came back to England at the same time maybe on the same ship. Watson, did you really fuck Moran in Afghanistan? Or on the ship. Is that what you're trying to hide?)

And then we get back to the 'why does Holmes specifically not want Moran charged with attempting to murder him even when the evidence of Moran's guilt of Adair's murder is so flimsy surely he'd want to throw everything possible at him?' thing. This also seems to tend to suggest maybe Holmes knew Moran wasn't actually trying to murder him then he was just making a point that he could do so? And what is up with the weirdly homoerotic antagonism between Holmes and Moran anyway?)

The relationships between these four characters - Holmes, Watson, Moriarty, Moran - are so much more complicated than it seems and there has to be a lot more going on there than Watson (or Holmes via Watson) ever lets on. I mean it's fascinating for the possibilities it raises but it is infuriating, all these plot holes and contradictions and just that... so little is ever actually shown to us. Also that so few people ever seem actually interested in exploring any of this, or what really went on between Moran and Adair either. So much gets taken at face value even when it actively contradicts something else but there is so much more to unpick there.)

[kellanved-ammanas]

TF2 Drabbles: Scout/Sniper - Don't Wanna be Weird

Summary: Could I ask for a Speeding Bullet with an unrequited Sniper? (not really) Some angust/comfort with a happy ending

~

Scout wasn’t the best at flirting or picking up on when others flirted with him but after quite a few rejections, he’d gotten better at picking up on when his attempts at weren’t welcome. Sniper didn’t get annoyed or turn Scout away like some people had in the past but he didn’t respond to any of it, often pretending to be completely oblivious to it. Subtly asking him out on a date sometimes got a ‘yes’ but he always seemed to think they were just hanging out, occasionally even expressing surprise that he was the only one Scout had invited to the outing. Making asking him out properly a no-go.

It was time to give up before Sniper went from ignoring it to being annoyed by it and deciding he didn’t even want to be pals anymore. Scout could deal with that. He wasn’t a mopey bratty teen anymore but a full grown adult, he could handle being nothing but friends with the man he was in love with.

And so he kept going to see Sniper but only to hang out as friends. He was completely normal about it… or at least he tried his best to be. Which wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do when it still felt like rejection; always a hard thing to take stoically. But that’s all anyone could ask of him, right? He’d get over it eventually.

Sniper seemed not to notice anything had changed for almost a whole month before… “Everything okay?” he asked shortly after they’d settled down to play a round of cards in his camper van.

“Uh… yeah. Why you asking?”

“Just it’s been a while since you last wanted to do anything in town and you’ve been acting kinda off lately so I thought something might be wrong. You don’t gotta tell ‘bout it though if you’d rather not.” So Sniper had noticed.

“Oh, yeah. I just don’t wanna be weird, you know? We can still hang out in town and stuff if you want. Just uh… we should invite some of the others ‘cause… don’t wanna be weird.” Going out alone with Sniper was exactly what Scout wanted and thus not something he should have as it would encourage his romantic feelings when he was trying to move past them. He liked Sniper enough as a friend to not want to ruin it because he’d stupidly fallen in love. That was one of the most painful ways to lose a friend.

“Why would it be weird if it was just us?” Did he seriously not know? Surely he knew and had just been politely ignoring it, waiting for Scout to give up… right?

Scout lowered his cards face down on the table but then he had nothing to do with his hands so he picked them back up to fidget with as he avoid eye contact. “Just uh… when I asked you to like the movies or bowling ally or whatever I kinda always intended those outings to be uh… dates, like the romantic kind. I know you never saw it that way though and that’s totally fine. No problems there or anything. I am perfectly happy just being friends but… it would just be weird if we did date like stuff even though I know it’s not actually that. So we should invite maybe like… Pyro or Engie or whoever so it’s less personal.”

Sniper was silent enough that Scout dared himself to look up from the hand of cards he was still shuffling. He was looking at Scout as if he’d dropped a bombshell. Which he kind of had. Bringing that up had been a mistake. Too late to take it back now though.

“Mate,” he said, finally breaking the silence as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table between them, “if you’re gonna ask me out on a date you gotta bloody say it’s a date. I’m not good with people, you know that.”

“Well… I suppose I do know that. I just kinda forget sometimes ‘cause I like hanging out with you.” Meaning Scout’s reading of his reactions might not have been entirely accurate. Sniper might not have been pretending to be oblivious to Scout’s flirting and subtle attempts to ask him out but instead in truth completely unaware. “So uh… if I were to ask you out on a date and made it clear that I intended it to be a romantic kind of date, what would your response be? Totally fine if you say ‘no’ and stuff just… making my intention clear.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“Really?”

“Yep, really.”

“So you wanna go out on a romantic date sometime? Maybe to the movies this weekend if there’s anything good playing. And if not, maybe the bowling ally.”

“Sure.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.” Perhaps Scout should try clear communication more often if it was really that easy.

[somegrayvyperson]

Okay, welp I’m back on tumblr so about time I get back onto the bull I love to pull, talking about Touhou fan games! The past few years have definitely been pretty interesting, though today I want to talk about something... Incredibly curious.

東方陰陽暦 ~ Illuminate animal destiny is probably one of the most interesting danmakufu games of 2022. How so? It uses 0.12m as it’s base... Which for those out of the danmakufu loop, is an engine as old as 2008! Typically people making danmaku Touhou fan games use either Danmakufu ph3, LuaSTG or other independent engines but the main author of this marimo seems pretty dedicated to the engine; as I’ve been told he’s made previous projects on it.

This DOES however make it pretty hard to run the game properly on modern hardware. 0.12m uses DirectX 8 so I’d advise you download a DX8 to DX9 converter in order for the game to run. If you’re already a fan then you might already have these files for the classic era Windows Touhou games but I’ll link them in this post just in case. Another hurdle for foreign countries though, downloading the game requires you to have your computer to be in Japanese locale otherwise all the files will go corrupt due to not being able to find the right language pack. You can try using locale emulators or other means but I had to download the game this way. After that I could run the game fine on a locale emulator.

Though finally talking about the game this has definitely been an oddity to play. Well first I’ll start off with characters which are sorted into the 5 chinese elements, so think what Patchouli uses:

Wood - Reimu Hakurei

Fire - Flandre Scarlet

Earth - NTR Nilpotent Unit [FAZE] (MJ)

Metal - Youmu Konpaku

Water - Marisa Kirisame

One thing that really sticks out like a sore thumb is who I just call NTR man. I THINK this is suppose to be a self insert of the authour or at least an insert of a friend of his? Some kind of OC? I don’t know the full details, I may have been learning Japanese but I’m currently as fluent as a toddler with sunglasses and who knows if that’ll stay that way.

So the four main Touhou characters primarily use player scripts that were lifted from a Japanese danmakufu wiki. Reimu has homing, Marisa has lasers, Youmu has her IN shot, Flandre has a reticle she fires bubble bullets at which can be set down with focus. All characters are given a shot designated to the element they’re classified under, which said elements are just a copy paste of MarisaB’s different elements from SA. These elements also have abilities associated to them on the C key which is spent by the power you use to gain them.

Reimu has... Nothing from what I could tell Marisa has auto collect Youmu cuts the frame rate in half whilst going faster Flandre literally just clears the screen of bullets

I’m saving NTR man for last because I cannot tell if he’s meant to be a joke or not. He starts out with 6 bombs instead of 3, his unfocused speed is ridiculously fast (practically to meme-like levels) his shot does absurd damage by how rapid they come out and his elemental ability or whatever is borders.

I practically got a Lunatic 1cc easily in this game purely on this guys power alone, nevermind his ludicrously fast speed... If anything on the topic of balance I feel a lot of people might get thrown off by it.

Flan is also pretty broken in the sense her screen clearing ability also clears out bullets you can’t normally clear with bombs... So in a way she can make some spell cards pretty trivial

A lot of the danmaku patterns feel like they were made to be complete noob traps or didn’t have much consideration into how difficult they actually were. Some patterns feel the same across all difficulties or they have something extra to them that either was unnessesary or not well thought out.

And yet there’s also weird moments of neat ideas in here? For example one of the Stage 5 bosses non’s is basically a gimmick from Undertale where you have to shield your heart from Undyne’s spears. I mean it came outta nowhere but to suddenly have that in 0.12m? That’s kinda neat not gonna lie.

The art in the game is surprisingly well done. Granted it’s compressed like heck due to the game having to run at 640x480 but what’s done here, whilst definitely amateur still has some attributes that lead to a pleasent style if very typical of what it is. Granted some of the character names put me through a loop making me feel like it was a Western guy coming up with Japanese names (Nekoko is still kinda painful from my perspective) but no, marimo is Japanese and he made it. Never assume something was made based on superficial things.

The music in the game is not great. I’m unsure who composed these tracks but if anything the musical notation is pretty off in some places and I think the sound mixing gets to the point where you actively hear the crust blaring out due to it trying to go really loud. There is no sound option in the engine itself so you’re going to just have to use system sounds to adjust the overall volume. It’s more or less though a limitation on 0.12m’s part though.

By all accounts the game is not good... But I honestly find it pretty endearing? There’s some nostalgia I gained from this reminding me of the days I use to goof off playing all sorts of scripts in 0.12m and all the different player scripts I’d use to try and 1cc Phantasmagoria Trues back over a decade ago.

Overall if you’re interested the authour has a link available from his twitter. Do remember, download it once you set your computers locale to Japanese and then you should be good if you have a locale emulator. I feel like even talking about this here the game is probably going to get buried in obscurity still on the nature of it being a Touhou fangame made in 0.12m no less.

Still I found some fun in this thrown together treat.

As for what I’ll talk about after, I think I got some ideas but I’m gonna need a good think about what to talk about next.

[nitrosodiumepicfps]

Five more Music-Themed games

This isn't really a genre, since I'm not constricted by only researching "rhythm games". If it's got music and uses it in an interesting way, I'll take a crack at it.

Undertale - I really enjoyed this game in my younger years. Not only was it a well-put-together RPG, but it included pretty good commentary about morality, choice, empathy, and choosing what is right over what is easy. Characters were incredibly memorable, giving you reasons not to kill them, and the world would change based on your actions. You felt like this benevolent being in a world that you have no reason to save, and yet, by pulling on the strongest emotions, these characters, mere sprites and lines of code, could convince you to invest in their lives. The fandom may have been a cesspool rivaling the dark ages of FNAF, and to be honest, I never got interested in Deltarune, but standalone, Undertale was good. Oh, and the music was also amazing. Toby Fox is a ridiculously good composer; the music is well-made, but he also utilises leitmotifs and character themes to create emotional connections and fun nods. For example, Spider Dance - a theme that plays when you fight a spider lady - when played on piano, requires you to play as a duet, i.e. with two sets of hands, as a spider would. The greatest example of this is Hopes and Dreams, one of the last songs you listen to if you're going for true pacifist. I don't know how to spoiler text in Tumblr, so if you haven't played Undertale yet, just don't look at the screen. Essentially, Asriel is the true form of Flowey, that genocidal maniac who has been puppeteering your journey through the Underground. Now freed from his flower form, Asriel wants to reset the entire timeline and bring everything back to how it was. In his theme, the opening track Once Upon A Time can be heard, giving your adventure a cyclic theme, and Flowey's old theme, Your Best Friend, can also be heard at times, connecting back to Asriel's bitter existence in the flower. This is topped off with an orchestral rock theme to the entire track, showing you that this is the climax of the game. Video games are art.

Beatsaber - This one's a classic VR title. I believe it was FUNKe who said that (paraphrasing) most VR games basically boil down to either machinery operation, or swinging a stick. Beatsaber is this idea in its most distilled form, chopping apart blocks to the beat of whatever song you've chosen. Most times, you have to slice a block along the direction of the arrow stamped on it, and there are weird frosted glass blocks that you have to keep your sabers out of. There's really not much I can talk about with this one; in my eyes, it's the Pong of VR games. It's got a sort of interesting aesthetic; geometric shapes, colored lasers and dry ice gives everything an 80s disco theme. What I like about Beatsaber is that it's a VR game that uses its virtual reality to its advantage. Lots of VR games will have you maneuver yourself around with simple button presses from your controllers, and the VR-ness of it is relegated to a 3D graphics card. With Beatsaber, you have to swing the sticks yourself, and the directional blocks keep the movement interesting. I suppose it's closer to osu in the sense that you have to factor in your own speed, reflexes and direction, instead of pressing a key when the arrows line up.

BPM: Bullets Per Minute - I've referenced this game a couple times, but now I get to talk about it in a little more detail. Without just saying "it's like Metal Hellsinger but without vocals and without a sword", there is more to it. The beat-to-beat gameplay is more about hitting the smaller notes, rather than just performing an action to the tempo, as you do in Hellsinger. You know when you're listening to music, and imagining some sort of action-packed sequence unfolding to the rhythm? That's what BPM is. You have to leap, dodge, and shoot, all to the beat, but there's more to it than that. Some weapons have interesting reloads that don't easily fit into the rhythm, like a bolt-action rifle that has four shots on the beat, four cocks on the beat, and then three reload beats. It's hard to explain, but you need to account for the type of rhythm and fit your gun's timing into that. It's a pretty cool idea, and there is a bit of a roguelike element with gear you can switch out to make fights interesting, or add a new mechanic to fit onto the beat.

Serious Sam 2 - This may not seem like it has a unique twist to its music, but I believe it does. This ridiculously over-the-top cartoonish horde shooter is a lot of fun, primarily for all the things it does "wrong". It came out in 2005, when first person shooters were steadily stagnating into slow "piss-filtered" modern military games. Despite this, you juggle something like 15 weapons, fighting through hordes of clowns with explosive cream pies, ogre footballers, giant robot spiders and ripped devils with rocket launchers for hands. Everything is bright and stylised, you can clearly see enemies in the environment, and despite being a horde shooter, the gameplay loop allows you to progress through the enemies instead of being driven back by them. Also, it's just mindless fun to plough through the game's many worlds; there's a jungle world, a gigantic world, a culturally questionable China world, a volcano world, a fantasy world, and then a prison moon, and then a city planet... it goes on for a while. There's unique music for each level (not just each world), and not only that, but the level's music is split into different themes - a "peace" track, a "tension" track and a "fight" track. If you're just walking along, it plays the peace track. If you're near enemies, or escaping from combat, it plays the tension track. If you're in the middle of a fight, it plays the fight track. All of these share similar leitmotifs, so it appears like the music flares up organically depending on what situation you find yourself in. It's a pretty good system all things considered. Other games of the time with dynamic soundtracks would loop different parts of the ambience based on your situation (like Thief or the original Far Cry) but I don't know of many that had different tracks for your sitation, except maybe Deus Ex.

Geometry Dash - GD feels like a game that almost everyone has played, or at least heard of. It's a basic rhythm game, but instead of having you mash arrow keys to the beat, it's simple: jump on time to the beat. All you have to worry about is jumping; avoiding spikes, blades, and walls. There are other mechanics, like different modes (UFO is like Flappy Bird, while the spider can snap to a vertical surface) and portals that reverse gravity or make your character a mirror version of itself. The different collectibles add replay value, encouraging you to find secret paths in a level or try to complete one first try.

[hetaliayorkshire]

War Of The Roses Final Battle

It was raining when it happened….

I was tricked by my own brother…

We made a promise. Not to betray each other.

And he… did just that… to me…

England and Yorkshire clashed swords once more, as he said, “This is getting us nowhere!” She continued to fight him, but was then attacked by his magic. She screamed in pain and landed on the ground. Richard then asked, “Are you alright…?” “Yes! I’ll be… fine…!!!”

That’s when the world around her changed and she looked around, only to see England opposing her. “If you want to win this Final Battle! Fight me here! Time doesn’t matter… and you can summon whatever you want to fight me here”, he explained. Yorkshire asked, “Have you lost your mind?! Our Kings need us, Iggy!”

“… Time has stopped there. So, don’t worry”.

For some reason, I took his word…

Then she summoned something that shouldn’t exist during that time period: an air rifle. “Okay. I trust you, brother”, she told him as a field of pretty white roses appeared under her. He smiled and said, “I hope you know how to use that”. “Haha…! Yeah… so do I…! At least we can have a fun fight!”, she laughed. “Yeah…”.

The two siblings jumped around this dimension and started shooting at one another. England had quickly realised how accurate she was and then grew scared of his own sister. He kept dodging, until he got a hit in her shoulder. She jumped down and smirked. “Are you finished…?” His eyes widened when he saw that multiple rifles were at her feet. “W-What the hell…?!!”

“Hey! I just wanna have some fun! Neither of us can die here, right?!”, Yorkshire asked with a smile.

Yes, neither of us could die here… not here….

Then she quickly used every rifle at her disposal, and just kept shooting at him. He quickly summoned his sword and cut down every bullet at a fast speed. “I-Is this the only weapon I’m used to using at this time…? W-Why is she so good with an air rifle?! That weapon isn’t even supposed to be invented yet!”, he thought.

Yorkshire quickly jumped up and the siblings clashed swords. England started to panic and he asked, “I-Is that… a Holy Sword?!” “You mean Excalibur? Yup~! It is~!” He cried out as she slashed him and fell onto his red roses, not appearing to get up. “E-England?” She jumped down and asked, “A-Are you alright…?” “…If I can’t beat her head on, I’ll just have to use some dirty tactics…”, he thought before a horrible grin appeared.

“AHHHHHH!!!”

She screamed as she felt a deep cut in her chest and she fell back. “Y-You bastard! That was a dirty move! Y-You don’t fight like that! What’s wrong with you…?!! You usually fight with honour!”, Yorkshire shouted at him. England stood up and he wound healed up. This surprised her and she backed away. “Y-You can heal”.

“It’s adorable how you think that anything I’ve done… has been honourable. Honour doesn’t exist in war…”.

“W-What have you done…?”, she asked, tearing up.

He snapped his fingers and then the world collapsed around them. She looked down and that is when she saw it. King Richard’s head… on the ground. “N-No!”

“The War is over…”.

She fell to the ground and then saw a white rose, that was covered in blood. “I-I’m sorry, your majesty…”.

Tears ran down her cheeks, but then her eyes turned blue. “Y-You lied to me…! You have betrayed me!”

“Yorkshire! This is war! Grow up!”, England shouted.

She then took the rose and started laughing, looking back at him. “No… this is just to keep your ego intact, big brother~! You just wanted to take over~! That’s all you want~! Full conquest of our Kingdom~! Don’t you understand what that makes you~?”, she asked him.

“What…?”

“In short… that means you’re weak without us. And… you actually believe you can boss us around. Too bad. Because some of us are gonna get sick of it one day”.

Yorkshire then pointed her magical air rifle at him.

“I suggest you watch your back from now on. You will only going to get weaker as time goes on”.

Then she walked away, tears running down her face. “I hate you… brother”. Regret filled England.

He got what he wanted. I didn’t mind being apart of the United Kingdom. But, he didn’t have to trick me.

Present Day…

At a World Meeting, Yorkshire was looking down at a bloody white rose. The same one she took that day.

All she heard was England arguing with America and France, as per usual. But she didn’t feel like joining in. Yorkshire and England had reconciled over the years, working together as a country again, but the damage of that war… always tormented her. She stood up.

“Ve…? Are you alright, Yorkshire?”, Veneziano asked.

She nodded. “Yes. But, I’m just gonna go home”.

…

When she got home, she walked directly to her own basement and passed a mirror that was very strange.

She placed the white rose in a display case and used her magic to keep it blooming still.

“Depression’s never easy, is it?”, her mirror self said.

“No… it’s not”, Yorkshire replied.

“… It’ll get better. Just don’t turn into me”.

She looked surprised and looked into the mirror.

“You’re already a pure white rose on a sea of blood… so, don’t get trapped in your own thorns, like me…”.

[popkeeki]

So I had a tf2 fic idea that I'm probably never going to ever actually write so I thought I'd offer it up to you bc you're a wonderful writer.

So it's like, during a control point match Scout goes running off, and like the blu team's soldier or sniper or Pyro or someone disappears too along with the blu scout. Eventually red scout and the blu team member that left come back and get back in the battle. Maybe no body really notices or thinks anything of it, just assuming the two were off fighting somewhere, or being too busy to notice the absences. After they come back the red scout knocks out the other team and wins the game. The whole red team goes back to base and is super happy and like celebrating, except like sniper and spy who both seperately notice something off about scout, maybe they realize the other noticed the same thing right away or they find out later, but either way they have to work together to figure out what's going on. Eventually maybe if you wanna do speeding bullet that could be an added factor, like this scout not knowing he's supposed to be in a relationship with sniper, and he also doesn't know spy is "his" dad. Eventually they convince the team and beat up the scout and make him show them where their scout is. They find their scout and they rescue him and have to fight their way out of the blu base with scout who is maybe injured. I think maybe for plot convenience we say he's had his wounds for too long for respawn to cure them so he has to be cure normally by medic. Maybe then something about each team member visiting him and maybe they're talking to him while he's pretending to be asleep, but they all know he isn't or it is a conversation.

Idk I thought it was a fic I would like to read but I just haven't the skills for it, so if you want to use the idea feel free, if not absolutely no problem in any way. I hope you have a great day, toodles, rock on whatever whatever have a good day :)

I am SO FLATTERED that you would give a fic idea to me (//▽//) thank you so much, it means a lot! And it's quite an interesting idea as well!

Right now I have my own ideas and drafts that I want to work on, although I can see myself taking fic requests in the future. Maybe then I can work on an idea like this. No guarantees, though! ;)

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Matrix Revolutions (2003)

Like its predecessor (which is actually the first half of one story, making the term “trilogy” not entirely accurate) The Matrix Revolutions doesn’t follow through on its potential, or that of the franchise as a whole. It’s more of an explosion of concepts The Wachowskis (who wrote and directed the film) wanted to bring to life. They thought it would be amazing to see it happen. They weren't wrong. Although the plot gets bogged down into a lot of pseudo-philosophical elements that I’m not sure make sense, the entertainment value is through the roof. In terms of spectacle and thrills, this film is hard to beat.

Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) is consuming The Matrix and has escaped into the real world through the body of Bane (Ian Bliss). Meanwhile, the machines' army is tunneling towards Zion, where Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne), Niobe (Jada Pinkett Smith) and the others make a desperate last stand. Their defenses may hold for a while but everyone knows it’s all up to Neo (Keanu Reeves) and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) to save mankind.

Revolutions continues blurring the lines between programs and people when it introduces a “family” with a young “girl” named Sati (Tanveer K. Atwal) waiting in a subway station between the Matrix and the machine world. Huh? What? Do all programs start as children and grow up as their programs become more complicated? That seems illogical. What’s a bunch of code supposed to do when she leaves the digital world of The Matrix anyway? Is her program going inside one of those mechanical squid monsters? The scene pays off ultimately but also feels like an excuse to have the cool visual of an impossible train station while introducing the audience to the idea of the “machine world” - I always assumed the machines were either non-sentient or inside the Matrix but you know, whatever. We’ve already established that there are programs that can see the future so you’re willing to go along for the ride. One thing’s for sure, you can’t accuse the film of being inconsistent - things haven't been making sense since the end of the first movie. Most notably, Neo’s ability to stop machines dead in their tracks in the real world.

If your head hurts trying to untangle that puzzler, here come some nice, digestible elements for you to see. With Neo stuck in a coma, Morpheus and Trinity have to go inside The Matrix to rescue him. Meanwhile, those demoniac tunneling machines are headed for Zion. How to best defend against them? With mech suits, of course. There are few sights as profoundly cathartic and thrilling as Captain Mifune (Nathaniel Lees) in a giant suit of armor with guns for hands back-to-back with his fellow soldiers firing non-stop at Sentinels pouring out of holes. Bullets are flying everywhere. When ammunition runs low, someone needs to run in and resupply them. Wheeling around mechanical carcasses, dodging shrapnel, keeping an eye out for the Sentinels the soldiers don’t manage to take down - it’s pure adrenaline. All of these scenes are on the same level of intensity as that highway chase, or every other show-stopper we’ve seen in this series so far. It’s as cool as those long leather coats and sunglasses.

Like before, there are a lot of “best scenes” to choose from in Revolutions. How about that high-speed chase as Niobe and Morpheus pilot their ship toward Zion? or the methodical attack Zee (Nona Gate) and Charra (Rachel Blackman) lead against the diggers? That fight in the rain between Neo and Smith, or the “the stakes are way too real” confrontation between Bane/Smith, Trinity, and Neo? What is unfortunate is that all of these scenes focus on special effects or action. Character development is not a priority at all.

While we all thought we knew where this series was going and ultimately, it’s a missed opportunity that there is no "Matrix within the Matrix", as Neo’s “real-world” powers seemed to hint, what matters most about The Matrix Revolutions is that it entertains so consistently and thoroughly. Does this satisfyingly conclude the story? Kind of? Missed opportunities aside, it is memorable, action-packed and conclusive. Or is it? There are hints of more to come at the end, which makes The Matrix Resurrections not entirely unexpected, even if 18 years is an eternity. I’m curious to see what the Wachowskis have been cooking up. (On Blu-ray, January 2, 2022)

[stormkobra-5]

Batons and Unicorns

Steven Grant x GN!Mute!Reader

Part 2 || Part 3

Summary: You, a new and shy addition to Avengers Tower, are a mutant with the ability to shift into animals at will: you're Skinchanger. Thing is? You're mute, and much prefer the company of your fellow animals to humans, even the Earth's mightiest heroes, which kind of alienates you. Until you meet Steven Grant, the other new addition to Avengers Tower.

Fluff, cute, silly, a purely ridiculous fanfic involving our boy Steven

A/N: Yeah so I enjoy the fanfics where Avengers Tower still exists and nobody died horrible deaths and endured unnecessary suffering due to a giant purple alien with a thing for jewelry and everyone is hApPy like they deserve. (I do not know if there's actually a Skinchanger in the Marvel universe and I am way too lazy to Google it) .

Notes: My knowledge of DID comes solely from Moon Knight, so if there are any inaccuracies please let me know!

Warnings: Rated 14+. This story involves strong language. Reader is mute due to being extremely shy. Hawkeye is an ass because I really, really do not like Jeremy Renner at all (which means he has no sad MCU backstory to make him more of a jackass in this story), and also? I needed an antagonist.

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So, apparently you're an Avenger now.

You should be celebrating.

Seriously, like go grab a fucking cake and some candles or whatnot and party because wow, somehow you made it into the elites of the elites.

Which just doesn't happen to average people, right?

Yeah, except you aren't average.

Not in the bad way, not at all, I mean you're a freaking badass. The way you casually shifted into an elephant to scare the shit outta those guys holding up the train station? Fucking badass.

Only, you didn't know these dudes were apparently rogue criminal agents ready to set off a chemical weapon. You didn't know that Iron Man would bust through a window to grab the bomb that you'd accidentally knocked into a grate, which you then collected with your trunk. And you really didn't expect to accidentally save Ant-Man's life. How were you supposed to know you were stepping between him and a speeding bullet that was only a superfluous injury to your badass elephant self?

'Course, the Avengers didn't know you were a person. They thought you were an escaped elephant from the Central Park Zoo or something. Nah, you're just a wanderer setting out from (your hometown) on a journey of self-discovery. Right place, right time.

You were also broke as hell and lost as fuck, but nobody's keeping track, right?

Ah, whatever. Somehow you bagged the greatest job in the universe.

Iron Man himself (against the judgment of like, everybody, but whatever, he's Tony Stark so he can do whatever the fuck he wants) recruited you when you turned back to your normal human self. "Wanna be a hero, kid?"

Sure, you'd nodded. You're mute, which was easily explained when you started communicating in sign language and kind Captain Rogers translated for you.

Although, honestly? You hate people. Who doesn't nowadays? Even the heroes you really didn't wanna be around. But, you took the job. Pays well, gets you college, and gives you a pretty damn good reputation while you're at it.

Not to mention.

Not to mention.

You are now, personally, in the midst of heroes. Gods, even. On your first day moved in with nothing but your little bag of luggage you meet Thor himself. And Loki. Did I mention Loki. Although with the whole New Asgard thing in Norway, they're not really at Avengers Tower much thank whatever, because it's kind of nerve-wracking, being in the presence of gods? Not to mention Loki. You were there for the Loki-pocalypse taking over Tumblr when he reformed. You witnessed all the hype and fanfics and millions of people across the globe drooling over this man.

You may have been one of them.

Just saying. That might be why it was kinda hard to look him in the eye. Not that you read hardcore smut or anything (or did you...? I don't know you. That's none of my business.), but still. The guy is like ten feet tall and dark and handsome with his features sharp enough to cut through fucking diamond.

Geez, you're glad he's off to New Asgard.

So, you move in. Mr. Stark (as you've been told to call him, by him) takes you to a mandatory introduction to the whole of the Avengers crew.

Boy.

There a lot of them.

There's like three Peters, five Steves, and each guy or gal has a specific superpower. And backstory. And twenty pages of why you should not under any circumstances fuck with any of them of previous missions and accomplishments that make you feel like your elephant-heroic-ness is falling far short of the Avengers title.

Then you move in.

Mr. Stark gives you a spacious apartment on the living floor, in the midst of everybody else's apartments that few of them actually use. Thankfully you are set far back. You get a crappy nice view of the congested cluster fuck of cars and smog-covered city of New York through a big-ass window, a gigantic bed, a generous bathroom, and the man even buys you clothes. Congrats! You've officially been adopted by Tony Stark! Way to go!

Your mentor? Thank god it's a robot. You're given a set of martial arts lessons and must copy them, occasionally fighting some drones. You do this in the evening, after school to get your... whatever degree.

Thankfully, you see very little of the heroes. They're off doing hero stuff or whatever. You see them at the compound dinner (although there is a kitchenette in your personal apartment like everybody else's so you can have your own private dinner if you want), sometimes, never all of them at once. The only ones that actually live there are Scott Lang, Natasha Romanoff, Thor and Loki part-time, Bruce Banner, and Peter Parker part-time. The Guardians of the Galaxy use it as a recharge station when they come to Earth.

And Mr. Stark, duh.

When you do see them, they try to make polite one-sided conversation with you because only a few of them know sign language, like Mr. Rogers and Parker. But you don't talking to people because they're like??? just no??? don't talk??? to you??? Like you wanna go about your own business.

Peacefully.

Privately.

And then you come home from school one day to find the apartment next to yours fucking open, like???

Open??? Like??? Somebody's moving in???

Whom the fuck, you might think, like a very proper-speaking person.

Whom the fuck indeed.

Milling around in front is Nick motherfucking Fury, who you only met once upon your arrival. Next to him is Mr. Stark himself, using a dolly to wheel in a pile of boxes full of books.

Books.

BOOKS.

Man do you love books. Like your whole apartment is full of books from floor-to-ceiling of your own and from your local library. BOOKS GALORE.

"Well, Stevie--" Mr. Stark tries to say, but he's interrupted.

"Ste-ven. With a V." Says a very British voice in response, soft and quiet, though also impatient. Exasperated. Like he's said this a billion times.

"Sorry," Mr. Stark replies nonchalantly, "Steven. Marc. Jake. Welcome to Avengers Tower."

You kind of linger behind Fury and Stark, who haven't noticed you yet, peering into the room. There's a large fish tank with a single beautiful goldfish, and shelves and shelves of what will probably hold books, because all the boxes in the room have books. Old books. New books. Big, small, medium, tiny, books everywhere.

This Steven/Marc/Jake guy might be a good neighbor to have. Like maybe you might befriend him to get access to this little personal library of his? Maybe???

The poor guy, though, looks extremely tired. He has dark bags under his dark eyes and his inky black hair is unkempt. Poor guy looks like he hasn't slept this millennium. Dudebro, you ok?

"Am I a prisoner?" Steven questions.

"No," Fury replies sincerely, "You're a guest. Marc joined the Avengers Initiative for you and Jake both, and so now you're based here. You're free to leave, after you've completed your training."

Steven seems surprised. "B-but I'm already the Avatar of Khonshu..."

Khonshu? As in the crazy moon god from Egyptian mythology?

That's right my dude. Dudette. Person. Whatever. You do your research. You're a fucking nerd and you have nothing to be ashamed of.

Or you're not.

Either way. You know who Khonshu is.

Realization hits you. This must be fucking Moon Knight.

You'd heard of the guy since you moved into the tower. The vigilante who protects those who walk at night or some cool shit like that. He wears white so the bad guys see him coming. He's fucking brutal. And part of all that Egyptian stuff. He's apparently crazy or something.

Yet the stories you've heard of the guy who beats people to shit using moon-shaped boomerangs and sheer brute force and Egyptian curses or whatnot does not match the sweet guy standing before you.

Fury acknowledges Moon Knight's question with a noncommittal shrug. "It's protocol. Even Thor and Loki were trained for Earth-based threats. Just following procedure."

Steven only nods. In defeat. You feel bad for him.

Of course, now Mr. Stark sees you.

"Oh! Y/N! Hey!"

Mr. Stark's always been nice to you.

That doesn't mean you like human interaction.

You freeze like a deer in headlights as all attention turns onto you.

Respectfully, fuck you, Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark reaches over and grabs your shoulder, nudging you forward. You hold your books to your chest in sheer terror.

"Guys," Mr. Stark says to Steven, although there's only one dude in the room, "Say hi to your neighbor. This is Y/N. Y/N, meet..." He turns to Steven for confirmation. "Steven, right?"

Steven nods, shy, looking up at you from under his brow with a faint, tense smile. He gives a little wave. "Hello." He looks just as terrified as you are.

You give a stiff nod. Mr. Stark goes on to introduce the... other people in the room. Of which you see none. But Mr. Stark gestures to a frightened Steven. "He's also Marc Spector and Jake Lockley. He has something called Dissociative Identity Disorder. Means he's not just Steven Grant all the time. Figured you should know, so you don't treat him like he's crazy when somebody else is fronting."

Huh. Sounds like Mr. Stark has done his research, too. Steven seems to be gauging your reaction, but you're only nodding in understanding. The planet has been invaded by fucking aliens.

Numerous times.

You can handle a dude who is simply just not one dude. Mr. Stark may be snarky, but he's always trying to make sure everyone feels welcome and at home, which is why he then turns to Steven to tell him about you. "And bro-- bros, sorry-- if they don't talk, they're not ignoring you. They're mute. They can speak in American Sign Language, though. They're also really, really shy so they take awhile to warm up to new people. Still hasn't really warmed up to us yet, so."

Steven's eyes keep flicking to you as Mr. Stark is talking, and then Mr. Stark pats your back in acknowledgement, turning to the doorway to confirm that Fury is already gone. "So, I'll leave you to get unpacked. I've got stuff to do. Compound dinner is at 6:00 pm sharp, but you're free to have dinner in your own apartment if you want. Hence your own kitchen."

"Thanks," Steven mutters, but you only nod as Mr. Stark leaves.

The two of you stand there awkwardly for a second before Steven comes forward to shake your hand, which you do stiffly. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

Nice to meet you too, you reply in ASL (which is awkward with your books), but Steven doesn't know it. He furrows his brow, looking honestly ashamed. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know sign language..."

You nod. Seems like that and charades are the extent of how you two can communicate. Is that gonna stop you from helping out the fellow introvert who is also a badass god-avatar and also Marc Spector and Jake Lockley? Nah.

You hold up a finger. Hang on. You rush into your apartment and set your books and backpack down before returning to find Steven in exactly the same place and pose as you had left him. You tap the top of a box, your chest, and gesture to the room. Steven looks around and follows your signals, puzzling it out.

Then the poor guy seems confused. "I'm sorry, do you want to help me unpack?" It sounds like nobody has offered to help him with anything in his life.

Know how you feel, my dude.

You nod, eagerly. Steven is clearly flustered. "Oh, no no no, you don't have to do that. I wouldn't want to trouble you."

You can't tell if he doesn't want your help because he doesn't like you, is a bad introvert like you (you don't know where your sudden bravery is coming from), or seriously thinks that you don't want to. You tilt your head a bit, thinking. Then you come forward and take his hand, which he reluctantly allows you to do. You spell out on the back of his hand, I want to help. That OK?

Steven seems to think for a second. Or maybe he's listening to Marc and Jake say something. Then he smiles, and it's the warmest smile you've ever seen. "Yeah. That's ok. You wanna start with that stack over there?"

And that, reader, is the start of something wonderful.

Although it's slow.

For the next couple of days you help Steven unpack. In the middle of day two, after lunch, you come back to find not Steven, but Marc, the American ex-marine mercenary who really fucking intimidates you. He's not mean, he's just... like you feel like you should call him sir and stand at attention because this dude is badass and not shy and is more quiet than even Steven, but in a brooding kind of way.

You don't meet Jake yet, but the next day Steven is back, and he's sweeter than ever. The way Steven and Marc talk about each other is like brothers-- with Marc being the older brother, of course.

Steven is extremely slow in warming up to you over the next few weeks, like you are to him. Like sometimes he'll start excitedly rambling about the Ennead and you'll listen with interest before he'll abruptly stop himself, thinking he's been talking too much. You urge him to go on.

Because it's really fricking interesting.

Also, he's so nice and sweet that you can't help but warm up to him a little quicker than you would to others. Those memes, where two introverts meet and they just click? Yeah, it's kind of like that. Your arms get tired from how much you're talking through ASL (which he's learning fairly quickly) and your face hurts from smiling. You never knew unpacking and making a friend could be so much fun.

Although the two of you are still a little... conservative. You don't talk about yourselves much. You wonder if he'll think your power is stupid, instead of bending time or being super, so even though you sometimes think it would be easier to put books on top shelves if you were a small giraffe, you don't shift. Steven doesn't seem to keen to summon his suit around you, either, asking the subject to be changed when you bring it up.

Three days after his arrival, Steven starts his training. Since he's obviously not in college, his takes place earlier in the day, but when you come over he's quiet, reserved, and looks like somebody just dragged him through the dirt. Which is odd, because for Mr. Knight/Moon Knight, he should kick ass.

It's on a Saturday when you figure out why.

So you know how everybody's been nice to you? Yeah.

Not Barton.

He's a fucking asshole.

Not just to you, to everybody but Natasha, who's kind of like his sister. But he tries to beat up his opponents in the training rings brutally. Including you. You've gone bison on his ass before just to get him to back off.

Although today, nobody sees you from your position perched calmly on a railing in sparrow-form, because sometimes you just need to hide and chill, y'know? What better place than the obvious?

But when Steven-- because it's clearly Steven, Marc walks differently-- comes in with his bag for training, looking like he's scared to death of what's lurking about, you immediately perk up, waiting.

Steven pulls a little mirror out of his pocket, huffing. "No, Marc. I'm not gonna let you take over. You'll bloody kill him. Besides, it's Saturday. Right? It is Saturday? ...I thought so. He's not gonna come here on a Saturday, is he? I can do it."

Steven shrugs and puts the mirror back in his pocket.

You've seen the mirror conversations before. Of course, you can't see Marc or Jake, but Steven can. The first time it happened he was scared he'd freaked you out, but you'd only shrugged and told him to say hi to Marc for you.

You watch, intrigued, as Steven goes to the robot and starts to input the code to access his lessons. The far door opens and he freezes, turning around to find Barton entering. He starts to gather up his things and make to bolt out of there. The fuck? You scared of Barton?

"Bollocks."

"Grant," Barton greets loudly, spreading his arms in a challenge. He has a disgustingly smug grin on his face, and you can take a guess that he's probably been successful in bullying Steven, who wouldn't hurt a fly even if it were a ten-foot-long one threatening his life. "Where you goin', buddy? Don't you wanna practice?"

"I, erm," Steven is backing toward the door. "I've decided to do it later, actually." Dude. Let Marc front and cream this guy. Very few people take Barton's shit, but one of them is Peter Parker, who you've occasionally defended by turning into a falcon and dive-bombing Barton until he leaves him alone.

Well. If he's not gonna let Marc front.

You swoop down, behind Steven, as Barton grabs him by the collar of his shirt and starts to drag him toward the fighting ring. Then, before you can do anything--

Steven just fucking-- suddenly he's in a tux. Like, a bright, white, glowing-eyes tux. Blink, puff, Steven is fucking brighter than a goddamn lightbulb. He yanks Barton off of him, twists his arm, and kicks him so hard he goes flying across the room.

You watch with big bird heart eyes because.

Wow.

You've never seen either of his suits. He's fucking amazing. "You want to get planted again? Back off, Barton." Steven threatens as Barton struggles to his feet. For a second, you're scared he's gonna go for his bow, but then Steven whips out a couple of batons from his goddamn sleeves and takes up a fighting stance that you're more than certain Marc taught him. "Go ahead! Try it! I dare you!"

You think Barton just might, and Steven doesn't deserve to stand alone. You flutter up to Steven with a couple of chirps and land right on his shoulder. Steven flinches, confused by the presence of a random bird, but Barton knows exactly what's happening. He glares, knowing what forms you can take: you could be Godzilla if you really wanted, but for only like a minute, tops.

Not that you'd actually seriously hurt him.

But when you were a bison you may have jabbed him in the ass with your horn.

Maybe.

With a huff of frustration, Barton mumbles something unintelligible and storms away, clutching where Steven kicked him. Slowly, Steven flips his batons and they disappear. You take flight, hovering and fluttering around his face with a series of excited chirps. Steven watches you with his glowing white eyes in total shock for a second before holding up his hand for you to land on, which you do. If birds could blush and have heart eyes, you would be doing both as you stare up at him in awe.

You can see Steven smile under the mask. "Hello, little birdie. Where'd you come from? Are you lost?"

Then you do something a bird would never do. You write, hello badass on his gloved palm with a bird-ish smile of squished-up cheeks and sparkling eyes.

Steven chuckles in disbelief. "Y/N?! That's your power?! You can turn into birds?!"

You take flight, and he keeps his hand under you with a smile in case you fall. When you land, you're a human again, and you're beaming. So is he. "Don't know why we never showed each other our powers before. We could team up! You could be..." He thinks, and you let him. You haven't seen him this excited yet, and it's endearing. He's like a kid. "Ah! Starbird! Mr. Knight and Starbird!"

I can turn into any animal, You sign, laughing, From any time or realm. I'm Skinchanger.

Steven smiles even wider under his mask. "But we can still team up! I'll switch my training to the evenings so we can do it together. I'm sure Marc and Jake won't mind."

The fact that he wants to train with you has you grinning from ear-to-ear. But then he seems to realize something. "...Can you... Can you turn into mythical creatures? Like dragons?"

Why of fucking course, you reply, because what good would turning into animals be if you couldn't be the most badass one to ever exist? But you don't do that, because last time you did you almost set fire to a whole forest. Instead, you shift into something more magical and pleasant.

A white unicorn, because you can do whatever the fuck you want and no one can stop you.

Steven busts out laughing. You've never heard it, and you lean closer with a whinny of question. Is he laughing at you? No, not Steven. He's too sweet. "Why did you pose like that?!"

Then you're laughing, in a very horse-y way, because you did pose. You just hadn't thought it would be that funny. Steven pats your cheek, grinning. "You're beautiful, birdie."

Butterflies swirl in your belly, because Steven just gave you a nickname.

And called you beautiful.

"Give me a ride back to my flat?"

You strike the pose again, making him laugh. Of course you'll give him a ride. Once he's up on you're back, you purposefully trot by the main living area even though it's out of the way. Yes, Mr. Knight is riding a unicorn. And everybody sees it. Banner even takes off his glasses to wipe them off, a little more than confused.

When you get back to his apartment, Steven is in his regular clothes and you're human. You both plop onto his couch in fits of laughter, harder than you've laughed in years, making jokes about the reactions of the other heroes as they watched you go by.

Slowly, you come to a realization.

You, my friend, might be falling for the sweetest guy on Earth.

You can't help yourself.

You do something unexpected.

Unprecedented.

"Steven," You say, and he freezes. He goes still like somebody just slapped him hard. He sits there for a second, and you realize he might be trying to figure out if that was one of his alters. "Steven," You say again. Your voice is hoarse, and it hurts. But it's the first word you've said in a very long time.

Steven looks at you in disbelief, jaw slack and eyes wide. "Y/N... Did you just--"

"Steven!" You repeat, beaming.

Slowly, Steven grins. You might see tears in his eyes because a mute person cares about him enough to start speaking for him. "Y-you just said my name," He breathes, gripping your shoulders tight.

"Steven!" You confirm, and throw your arms around his neck to engulf him in a tight bear hug, laughing.

Steven doesn't think he's ever smiled harder in his life.

Yes, reader, this is the start of something wonderful indeed.

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Thanks for reading! We all need a random silly, fluffy fic once in awhile, right?