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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

Idk If you have rules cuz I can't seem to find it but Osamu(Haikyuu) as mafia(if ur not comfy then you can ignore this part) who Kidnapped u and is obsessed(the "I'd rip out my heart for you" type of obsessed) who would literally do anything for you😋and puts you always first before anyone else🗿a soft yandere but will k!ll anyone who gets near you type so Osamu being possesive of you🤩

Nope! No rules, there aren’t enough people who care for them and I don’t want to stress about it anymore. If I don’t like a request, I just delete it. I prefer Yakuza over Mafia, hope you don’t mind! Thanks for requesting, enjoy ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Even the careful Osamu couldn’t keep you from stirring in your sleep as he opened the door to the apartment. This was probably the first night ever you had been able to fall asleep in peace, and yet, you sat up while he tiptoed through the hallway towards the only room you two shared. Rubbing your eyes, you heard a soft gasp, making you look up.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya...” Osamu grumbled before stepping into the room fully, walking over to the mini-fridge he kept stocked with basic food like rice balls and ice cream in the freezer compartment. The light briefly illuminated his body, showing you a sight you didn’t want to see while he restocked some food in the fridge, either unaware or indifferent about his looks.

You looked away, biting your lips. It had all started out innocently enough, your father paying a Yakuza to keep you safe while there were some even worse guys after him. Even if the arrangement had been strange, especially after he - Osamu - moved into a small, one-room apartment with you, basically just sticking around and rarely leaving, by now, it was more than just a nightmare.

How long had it been since you last left the apartment? Almost a month now? Osamu took you for a walk once or twice, returning after mere ten minutes and stating it was too dangerous. However, whenever he did leave, he returned bloody and dirty. Frankly, you were too afraid to ask what happened, but the secrecy between you two wasn’t helping in soothing your mind.

In the beginning, you still had been hopeful that the matter would resolve quickly and you could go back to your normal life. But apparently, it just kept dragging on, Osamu only ever stating that it wasn’t over yet. Even your dad stopped responding to your messages, asking if he was okay, by now, and you were nothing but worried about him. Now, you just wondered how many more days you’d have to spend with this guy that you still considered to be a total stranger.

Gripping your blanket tightly, it took you a lot of courage to speak up, but the situation was awkward as it is, there was nothing you could do to mess it up more. “Are you okay?” you asked carefully, hoping you weren’t overstepping your boundaries. His hand stopped, and he glanced back over his shoulder at you, simply staring for a moment before turning back to finish his task.

“Yeah, just a rough night.”

“Then... are you hurt?” you continued, feeling relieved after hearing his casual answer.

“Why? Ya worried about me?” Only being able to see his side profile over his shoulder, you noticed him smile - presumably for the first time ever that you knew him. “I-I mean!” you stuttered, twiddling your thumbs as you felt flustered. It wasn’t actually that bad talking to him; he actually had a hint of a joke in his voice as he spoke with you, even if you only ever perceived him as a mean-looking fellow with a bad career choice.

“It would be bad if something happened and you were injured...”

A soft chuckle fell off his lips, and you presumed he must have been tired if you actually managed to make him laugh. Either that, or you had to admit he wasn’t half as bad as you thought him to be. Closing the fridge - and with it, the only light in the room - you heard him groan as he stood up. However, even if he tried, his footsteps were audible because of his muscular build, especially as they drew closer.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he assured you, plopping down on your bed. “I got it all under control, promise.”

“If you say so...” Pulling in your legs, you made some space, prompting him to lean back, and the smell of blood and dirt made its way to your nose. “So... not your blood?”

There was a certain risk in asking this, but you were awake now and, for the first time, had a conversation with him. “Nope,” he casually admitted, and it brought back some of the fears you first had when he was introduced to you. Mainly that he had already become numb towards violence. “Hey...” Osamu tore you out of your thoughts quickly as he spoke up first, noticing your silence.

“Has anyone been bothering you lately? Talked to some bad eggs on your phone?”

Blinking a few times, you delayed your response, nervously glancing at your phone. It was true that after you had to go undercover, you had quite a few arguments with your boyfriend and friends. They wouldn’t understand why you’d ghost them and avoid their questions about your whereabouts. “Not really?” you mumbled, unsure if he’d be interested in that kind of complaint from you. After all, they were more or less just relationship problems, and you two weren’t close in any way.

“I see,” he curtly replied, silence falling between you two until he sighed, sitting up straight again. “After you fell asleep, there was a guy outside to room. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the knocks, but I guess you were tired for a change.”

Immediately, you tensed up. Worried about the sudden revelation about a visitor, you didn’t even mind his last comment, revealing he had been aware and watching you as you had struggled to sleep the last few weeks in his presence. “W-Who was it?” you questioned, scared of hearing that you had been found out and you’d have to leave soon and hide somewhere else.

“Don’t know him. He got very agitated when he saw me and tried to get into the apartment, but I couldn’t let him, of course.”

Ears peeking up, you almost jumped out of bed as you leaned forward, intrigued by what Osamu was telling you. “And? What happened?” you pushed for a continuation.

“Nothing special. Told him he can’t get in and to leave. But he was one persistent bastard, yelling weird stuff like he was your boyfriend and he loved you and should be able to see you. These things.”

“W-Wait! What do you mean it was my boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me! I could have confirmed it! I’d really have liked... to see him...”

Shoulders slumping in disappointment, any fear of being found out was now turned into sadness, knowing you had been asleep while a vital piece of your life and of ‘normality’ had been so close. “Ridiculous, as if I could just let anyone come and claim he knew ya,” Osamu grumbled, and the heaviness of your situation returned back to you. Of course, he couldn’t allow the risk of someone hurting you after everything you two went through already.

“He did ask me to give you something, though,” Osamu seemed to suddenly remember, contemplatively. “What is it?” you inquired, hoping that maybe it really had been your boyfriend after all, and perhaps he brought you something to help you through these challenging times.

But instead, you were met with two fingers around your chin, pulling you in closely until you felt Osamu’s breath against your mouth. Much too late did you understand the intention, his lips kissing yours gently yet longingly. You felt an immediate gut-wrenching response, tearing away repulsed by the actions of your guard. Pushing him away, you rubbed off the feeling of his lips on yours with the back of your hand, spluttering, “What are you doing?!” while you tried not to feel sicker as the smell of iron reached your nose.

“Ya know,” Osamu continued, his tone indifferent, but you could hear the smile on his lips. “I’m just repaying my debt to him. There’s no ‘being too safe’, but I guess you really did matter a lot to him. He kept crying and telling me he loved ya.”

“Why didn’t you just wake me up to confirm it then?” By now, you felt the pain of your boyfriend, worried sick about you, and then faced with someone like Osamu as his only clue. “Are you kidding?” was all that the Yakuza responded. Getting up, he stretched audibly.

“I beat him to a pulp and took care of him and his phone with the tracking app.”

What?

“H-How could you...?!” was the only thing you could stutter.

“Yeah, he won’t bother you anymore. I know you two have been fighting lately.”

“Excuse me?”

Walking over to the entrance to the bath, Osamu flipped on the light before looking back at you. Dreadful splatters of blood were all over his face, even more than you had seen before. His knuckles seemed to be straight out of a horror movie, and the black clothes he wore had dark, firm spots on them.

And yet, he smiled at you affectionately.

“As if I’d let anyone put a frown on ya cute face, Babe. Doesn’t matter who, I’ll protect you from anyone trying to get close and hurt you. I told ya, didn’t I? I’ve got everything under control.”

With that, he entered the bath, and you heard the familiar sound of the shower. Confused but mostly worried, you threw back the blanket and hopped out of bed with unsteady feet, racing to the front door. Sliding off the door chain, you pushed the handle, expecting it to open, but it wouldn’t budge.

The faint sound of a chuckle echoed from the bathroom, the walls thin as paper, much to your dismay. You didn’t want to believe it; even more, you wanted to see it. See that what Osamu described didn’t happen to someone so dear to you. You wanted to know that everything was okay. Know that the man you shared this locked apartment with wasn’t some kind of maniac going around killing people on ‘your behalf’.

But when you looked at your phone, you saw a message from your boyfriend, saying he tracked you down and would be coming to get you now. It had been read before you, even replied to, but you didn’t remember ever seeing it or replying to it at all. Especially not when the last message eerily read:

<< Waiting for you (:

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Frustration II

Characters: Albedo, Kaeya, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,820

Premise: Commissions don’t always go as planned, much to your frustration. Luckily there’s someone there to make you feel better.

Author’s Note: Okay I did not predict the first part of this becoming the most successful fic on this blog to date. The people have spoken! So I come to you with more characters, hopefully this will make up for leaving Zhongli in the dust yesterday – that and the fact that his scenario turned out to be the longest to write out of all of them. I also have a few other characters for this prompt in mind, we’ll see. Also wow I don’t know how to title sequels.

Once more my deepest thanks to the 115 people who liked, the 8 people who reblogged, and the one person who commented on the first part. I cannot tell you the joy it brings me to see that people are interested in what I write. It makes me so stupidly happy, so thank you so very much.

Albedo

“I understand that Forsaken Ruins are supposed to hide secrets and all, but honestly how many boxes can one put in the same area before someone tells you it’s time to stop.”

Albedo said nothing in reply, eyes focused intently upon the graduated cylinder and glass pipette in his hands. You watched as he counted the drops under his breath, nodding slightly as the clear water in the cylinder shifted to a rather unimpressive muddied brown. Regardless of the color evidently the alchemist was satisfied, for he stoppered the cylinder and returned the remaining liquid of the pipette into its original container, arranging everything on the shelves, and leaving the rest in the small sink.

“Silver nitrate.” He explained, wiping his hands on a cloth, before going towards where you were sitting cross legged on a stool near the countertop that worked as his desk. “Now tell me about why you’ve been digging up boxes near the Forsaken Ruins.”

“It’s for a commission. You know Bao’er?”

“That suspicious woman from Liyue I keep telling you is probably a bandit?”

“That one.” You nodded curtly, glancing down at your hands. “And bandit or not she keeps commissioning me, I can’t very well not accept. Anyways, she’s been looking for some sort of treasure, but no matter what I give her it’s never what she’s looking for. Do you know how irritating it is to have a passive aggressive customer angry at you about something they did? I mean really.” You huffed in frustration.

“Have you considered the fact that she might just be using you to dig up all the treasure in that area.” There was slight amusement in Albedo’s voice, and your head shot up in response.

“Well forgive me for doing my job.” You shook your head, not truly believing there was any bite behind the alchemist’s words. He was right after all, and you weren’t altogether upset to know that someone else shared your suspicions of this person who kept commissioning you with no end in sight.

“Forgive me love.” Albedo walked over and gave your slightly hunched figure a hug. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning your head into his shoulder. The position you two in wasn’t necessarily comfortable, but there was nowhere proper for you both to sit, and besides Albedo’s embrace was so warm and secure you didn’t mind craning your neck a bit.

“You’ll get there eventually.” Albedo’s voice was steady, confident, as if he’d somehow calculated the fact that eventually this mad goose chase would end, had seen it in one of his many experiments.

“How would you know?” You whispered, still feel a bit contrary, though your frustration had long ebbed away.

“I just do. You can master anything with time you know. That’s the secret of science, the secret of alchemy. In the end it cannot be done without endurance, and I know that your endurance is one to withstand any storm.”

“Only when you’re cheering me on.” You replied, hugging Albedo a bit tighter.

“Oh that’s not true.” Albedo responded in kind, running circles along your back. “You’d do just fine without me. But I’ll be here for you regardless. So don’t forget that every question can be answered and every quest completed. It just takes a little time. We’re all humans in the end, regardless of vision or power. Just humans, and to be human is to sometimes need a little time.”

You nodded, lifting your head to glance into his face, usually passive and clear as ice, now filled with warmth and fondness, smile filled with fondness and love.

“Besides.” Albedo loosened his arms around you, instead reaching to help you off from the stool, laughing slightly as you stumbled, feet having fallen asleep. “I don’t see Bao’er doing any of the digging. How about you remind her of that next time she has an ill word.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” You replied, before leaving the lab, hand pressed firmly into Albedo’s and heart much lighter than before.

Kaeya

“My darling!” Kaeya leapt down the steps outside the Headquarters of the Knights of Favonius, feet barely seeming to touch the ground, before sweeping you up in a hug. “It’s been too long and I’ve missed you so much.” He declared, ignoring the fact that it’d only been about 8 hours, instead peppering your face with small kisses, before registering the look of frustration clearly being worn by you.

“What’s wrong?” He drew back a bit, though not much, curiosity and worry in his eyes, hands gripping yours. You smiled, shaking your head; Kaeya always seemed to be ready to worry about your happiness, not that you didn’t find that completely charming.

“It’s nothing really important.” You were looking to assure him, but instead Kaeya’s frowned deepend.

“Nonsense. Anything that’s clearly making you so unhappy is of utmost importance. I’d like to know what it is, if you don’t mind. I’d like to help.”

“You’re helpful you being here.” You smiled, giving him a belated peck on the cheek. “But if you must know I’ve got a commission that needs to be done in an hour, and I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish it. You know how there’s a large vein of Crystal in Stormterror’s Lair? Well Wagner asked me to go mine some for him, easy stuff normally. Apparently though the mouth of the vein is situated right in the path of a ruin guard, and I’ve had a terrible time trying to do battle with the thing while being bogged down by mining equipment.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I mean really this shouldn’t be that hard. Why am I struggling so much? Wagner isn’t asking that much, he’s a good person. I’m just… inept.” You finished, by then your nails had begun digging into your palms. Kaeya noticed this and brought your hands up to kiss them, smiling as you reddened slightly and shook your head, a smile nevertheless tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Well I won’t tell you that Wagner is being utterly too demanding and that you have a right to a safe work environment,” you snorted at that, as if an adventurer’s work environment was ever safe, “but I will tell you that, since the best, most handsome, most daring Knight of Favonius has fallen hopelessly in love with you, he is willing to do the mining while you use that ruin guard to blow off some steam. Does that sound like a good deal?”

“I can’t believe you’re sitting out a chance to fight and instead are becoming a miner.” You smirked, placing a kiss on Kaeya’s jaw. “But really how could I ever turn down such an offer from such a gallant knight.”

“You’d run back to Wagner and give his ears a rightful scorching I’d hope.” Kaeya replied, linking his arm in yours.

“Hmm… unlikely.” You replied, leaning into the knight. “But thank you Kaeya. Truly, thank you. I know it’s not your job to fix commissions. It means a great deal to me that you’re willing to do this.”

“Of course I’m willing.” Kaeya smiled softly. “You’ve saved me from failing my job too, in more ways than you think. And even if that weren’t true, which it is, I love you so very dearly, and this is a small way to show it.”

You nearly ran into a lamppost, your face pressed into Kaeya’s shoulder, face warm and heart full of love.

Zhongli

You really didn’t want to tell Zhongli.

That was the thought running through your mind as you hurried up the steps to the funeral parlor. You really didn’t want to tell him.

It’d been little more than a month since he’d given up his position as god of the city, little more than a month since the citizens of Liyue had begun the arduous task of ruling their own city in earnest. And little more than a month since you and the Geo god had begun your courtship. You relationship was still new, and though you’d thankfully mostly lost the sense of smallness that had initially come with falling in love with someone so powerful and so unending as a deity, though you now longer thought the love between you was something that could shatter at any moment, you still were a bit reticent to throw all your insecurities and mundane frustrations at Zhongli’s feet.

The smell of incense hit you the moment you entered, a bit overwhelming at first, but soon comforting and familiar. You exchanged a few words with Hu Tao, before walking over to Zhongli’s office, pace speeding up despite yourself. You might not have wanted to tell Zhongli about your day, but you desperately wanted to see him, as you always did when all was said and done. There was something about his presence, comforting and sturdy, and always filled with kindness and understanding.

Understanding. Zhongli would understand, of course he would. But you still didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to see his face cloud over with worry as you knew it would. He cared so very deeply, even if he didn’t always express it he truly did. Hidden under layers of politesse, tradition, and decorum there was simply someone who cared so very deeply. And thus someone who was often and easily hurt.

“Hello darling.” You said, entering the office quietly. Zhongli had been reading a scroll, but he quickly set it down, a smile erupting across his face as he stood up and met you halfway, enveloping you in a hug, which you gladly reciprocated. “I’ve missed you.” You said, voice muffled by his chest.

“I’ve missed you too, so very much.” He replied softly, one hand running itself through your hair absentmindedly, the other wrapped around your waist. “The days are terribly slow without you. I never noticed before how an afternoon can stretch so long.”

“Well I’m here now.” You replied, leaning back and bit to cup the archon’s face in your hands. Zhongli placed one of his hands on yours, leaning into your palm, smiling contentedly.

“I’m glad of it.” He said those words often enough, but every time it made your heart speed a bit. You felt so full of happiness you could almost forget the irritation of the earlier hours.

Almost.

“How were your commissions today?” It was early evening by now, and golden light was starting to slant through the windows. Zhongli was cleaning up a bit as you watched, smiling slightly. That smile slipped however once the question was asked, not that you didn’t know it was coming, as you two often asked each other about your days, each being a bit fascinated with the other’s job in some respect.

“It was alright. Fairly ordinary.” You tried keeping your answers brief and your tone light, though you could already hear the sharpness in your voice. Irritation was difficult to hide however, and you could already see skepticism in Zhongli’s gaze as he turned to face you.

“Oh. What were the commissions, if I may ask, the regular spots?”

“Mostly. I had one where I had to deliver a message to the Inn too, and one where, well, it was less of a commission and more of… well honestly I’m not sure what to call it.” You finished, tone by now filled with a mix of irritation an cynical amusement. Zhongli stopped altogether at that and sat at his chair, facing the spot you’d taken on the desk.

“May I ask what happened.” He said once more, tone slightly worried. Shit. Wasn’t this exactly the reason you hadn’t wanted to tell him?

“Well, you see I’m not the only guild member of course. And it’s almost the end of the month. What with everything that’s happened they needed someone to ask after some of the unfinished commissions, the ones that had a time limit. I finished my work early so I went.”

“And?”

“And, well. Well some of these adventurers were honestly hopeless!” You burst out, having shed your worries in your frustration. “I mean I know they mean well, I know they’re trying. Or at least I hope they are, you can’t really tell at some points. Like this one guy, I asked about why he hadn’t done any of the food deliveries he said he would and he made some odd excuse that a coworker was supposed to take care of it while he looked for a text that someone else wanted. Okay, fine. I go to the coworker, and she says that it was a one time thing as far as she was concerned and that she didn’t go to pick up the food after. I go to the restaurants themselves and turns out half the orders never go tthere and the other half have been put on a tab that need to be paid but no one thought to pay it so I do so. That doesn’t even begin with whoever did a hack job at the Wangshu Inn, apparently the boards have caved in again. And I was going to do that, but then I got pulled into some monster hunting so that won’t be done this month and honestly, it’s all just so… so frustrating!” You felt like you were spiraling at that point, all the frustration and shame coming back to you, the feeling of having to smile at someone who you’d much rather scream at.

Your thoughts cleared as Zhongli reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. Bringing his hand up to your face he wiped away a few tears of frustration that you’d shed. Shaking your head you took his hand in yours. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t worry you about these things. I don’t want you to think Liyue is falling apart. I mean this was a thing even before you stepped down, and I know that I’m complaining too much and it’ll be fine it’s just, it’s just a lot.”

“I know.” Zhongli smiled softly. “You shouldn’t feel like hiding these things for my sake. I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d rather truly know how you’re feeling. Just like you don’t want to place a burden on me, so do I not want to place a burden by you by making it seem as if you have to carry your cares alone.”

“But, with everything so recent… I just. I worry you’ll regret it.”

Zhongli smiled, and leaned in, kissing your forehead. He smelled of incense and glaze lilies, and you found the knot in your stomach uncoiling despite itself. Smiling you linked your fingers through his, focusing on that as Zhongli kept a hand on your cheek, grounding you.

“Thank you for worrying about me. But just as I trust you’d tell me if Liyue were truly about to burn to the ground, so do I trust that it won’t happen. You’ve taught me that you know.”

“Me? Not the Liyue Qixing or the traveler? I think they’ve done a lot more than my running around will ever do.” You smiled a self-deprecating smile, but Zhongli simply shook his head.

“You have taught me that. How you keep going, how you support those you don’t even know for the sake of your guild and your commission, even if you have a grievance. And, more than that, you’ve shown it to me, simply by letting me have a place in your heart.” He lowered his gaze, face clouding over in the way you knew it did when he was considering the past. You gave his hand a squeeze and he looked up, smiling softly.

“I used to think that humans were delicate, no matter what. That they were destined for the tragedy of death and that made them unable to be depended on, that they’d just break and break and that I’d spend my existence watching it until I couldn’t stand it anymore. But you showed me that ultimately humans are resilient, more resilient than any adepti or magical being, who cannot stand to face time or pain or hard work. You’ve taught me that, and if you’ll let me I’d like to share that with you, your burdens, your frustrations, your anxieties. I’d like to be there to support you, if I cannot fix it then I’d at least like to be there for you. So please, don’t hide your struggles from me, so I may remind you that they’re simply proof of your power.”

You didn’t really know what to say, smiling in a mix of relief, sadness, and adoration. Leaning in to kiss Zhongli you felt the word recede and grow around you. You didn’t know how he did it, how he took all your cares and worries and flaws and morphed them into something beautiful.

But that was what made Zhongli special, and you adored him for it.

#oops I overwrote on zhongli #tale as old as time #this was also written while I was tired lol #it's a theme #genshin impact #albedo #kaeya #zhongli #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact x reader #scenarios #my writing

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t3tsubaby · 3 years

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Well idk if you're still bored in class (or not) then can I ask headcanon college au! (I'm not suprised if there are fangirls in college) of Oikawa meets a fem! S/O that is cold and emotionless? Oh and she could be also harsh if you meet her for the first time. Oikawa tries to flirt and charm her. And when he compliments her she just said "thanks" In a emotionless cold tone and walks away. How would he react that? But her true personality behind doors is unsure of her feelings and finds it difficult to deal with it.

I’m definitely totally not basing this off of my personality at all but this is such a good request tysm!! Also sorry this took so long I had some exams.

Oikawa meeting a cold fem! S/O

Genre: fluff? I think? very cute tho

Word Count: 1.1k

We all know Oikawa grew up with a “coldhearted” best friend Iwa who was and is the definition of tough love

By this, despite everything, Iwaizumi always cared for him, no matter how aggressive he seemed to be

Now despite all of what I just said, I think Oikawa would be kinda shocked that there’s a woman who isn’t charmed by him

There was that one instance that Kiyoko ignored him and he went in full denial mode, so I kinda feel like he would be like this but 10x worse

So you’re both in college and you’re looking to sign up for some clubs and you see that the volleyball team needs a manager

You thought it would be simple and you could not only make friends at your school but you could also make friends with people from other schools at games

You’ve always been called coldhearted and somewhat emotionless and you knew that university was the prime time to make lifelong friends

You considered it a win-win situation

That was of course until Oikawa popped up behind you, all bubbly and flirty(let’s pretend covid doesn’t exist)

He would lowkey kabedon you but just one arm at your side so it’s less creepy considering he’s literally a stranger at this point

“Ah what’re you looking at? Are you looking to be our manager? Now I can play volleyball and look at a pretty girl,” he said with a grin

You moved out of the kabedon and said a quick “Thanks” not smiling and walked away with the application sheet in your hand

Too stunned, Oikawa just stared at your shrinking figure walking away

Okay time skip to when you’re starting to be a manager and learning the ropes of the game

(For the story’s sake let’s pretend that all the Aoba Johsai boys are also on the same college team)

The team teaches you the basic rules, positions, and anything else you need to learn, you are taught by the coach or the internet

You have a journal and a section is dedicated to each player, which you’re able to easily analyze and figure out strengths and weaknesses

And the team absolutely adores you for this

They buy you snacks and do homework with you

And throughout all of this Oikawa’s flirting never stops

And you continue to give no response or a one-worded reply

Oikawa even goes to the lengths of asking his friends how to get you to talk to him

Iwaizumi tells him “Stop bothering her and focus on practice and not hurting your knee,” while dragging him back to the court

The rest of the team agrees and you continue on your managerial duties

You’ve already noticed his knee injury and make sure to keep an eye out for him secretly to make sure he isn’t overworking

Okay so now let’s fast forward to a game

The team is very protective of you because everyone tries to flirt with you because you’re that pretty

You all walk into the gym and are faced with the other team

The boys go ahead and start warmups and you’re approached by the captain of the other team, who just so happens to be your cousin!

You guys start talking and you’re laughing and enjoying speaking to him as the rest of the team stares in shock

Emphasis on kawa because his jaw is actually on the floor

He comes up and grabs your wrist and pulls you a foot away

“Nobody takes my y/n, go back onto your own turf,” and he sticks his tongue out

Before you get a chance to explain he pulls you to the bench where the coach is and sits you down

“Nice and safe now right y/n. I saved the day, for that, I deserve maybe a kiss on the cheek?” he asked with a subtle wink

“No. Go back to warm up, the team is waiting. If I see that your knee is hurting, I’ll bench you for the entire game,” you replied, not even batting an eye at his question.

“Can I get a kiss if I play the whole game without hurting my kn-”

“No. Goodbye,” you shooed him off.

During the game, Oikawa felt his knee feel weak as it pulsated and throbbed but decided to keep his mouth shut and make sure he didn’t show any pain on his face.

The game ended with you guys winning and you all decided to go celebrate with some shave ice

You thanked the other team and said goodbye to your cousin, expecting Oikawa to drag you away but to your surprise, he wasn’t there, nor was he even in the gym

You told the rest of the boys to wait outside and decided to look for Oikawa

After walking around for a bit you noticed a barely lit hallway and saw him curled up into a ball against the wall, crying with his head on his unhurt knee and the other one sticking out

With a closer look, you could see the redness and imagined how much he was hurting

You slowly sat down next to him and pulled out a rapid ice pack

After breaking it, you wrapped it in a towel so it wouldn’t be as cold and gently placed it on his knee

With the change in temperature, Oikawa lifted his head and noticed you tending to his injury

He didn’t say anything, feeling guilty

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I should’ve told y-”

“Shut up,”

You both stayed quiet until you put your hand in his to provide him some comfort

“Y/n seriously I’m so sor-,”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up,” you cut him off again. Worried you were being too intense, you put your head on his shoulder.

He smiled and put his head on top of yours, but planted a kiss before doing so

“Does this mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend y/n,”

“Maybe if you ask properly,”

He started blushing and used his unoccupied hand to cover his face in embarrassment

“Y/n please be my girlfriend,”

“Okay whatever,” you replied, also feeling embarrassed but smiling

He smiled and leaned his head on yours again

“Thank you for caring for me, I hope to make you happy forever,”

You squeezed his hand, unsure of a reply but Oikawa knew you reciprocated the same feelings.

BONUS:

After 10 minutes of waiting around, Makki decided to go look for you and Oikawa because they were hungry and wanted to leave.

They stuck together and looked around until they saw you two sleeping and holding hands

Groaning, Matsukawa handed $10 to a grinning Iwaizumi who just said “Knew it.”

I hope you enjoyed it!! I may have gone a bit overboard but it was such a cute prompt I just kept on going on with it.

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rpbetter · 3 years

Note

Hi! How do you distinguish between a mun who has favorites but still treats their non favorites with respect, and a mun who has favorites but uses this as an excuse to disrespect everyone else? Sometimes it's hard for me to tell, and I'd love to hear what you think.

Hey, Anon! That's actually a great question.

It's also totally reasonable to have a hard time telling. When you feel like you might be a little more into the threads than the other mun is, no matter how much they're being respectful and caring, it can still feel a bit...lame. We all want to be a favorite writing partner, even as we know that's impossible, that we can't manage that ourselves. It's not a thing of logic!

I feel like I should probably preface the detailing I'm about to do - this is only my experience. There are always variables in anything dealing with other people, and any time we're already feeling down, it's really easy to see things in a way that might not be the reality.

Alright, then.

Muns who use this as an excuse or justification for what they're doing tend to be the ones that:

are likely to pair the excuse/justification with aggressively vilifying anyone who takes issue with their treatment of them for being too serious about RP/too emotionally invested in anything from friendships to ships/otherwise "not realizing it's just a hobby" - apparently, "hobby" actually means "you're not making a dollar, so, do whatever you want in whatever way you want, so long as it's making you and only you happy and comfortable," who knew?

will lead muns on, either because they're uncomfortable with telling those who are not the favorites that...well, they're not the favorites and they might wish to just drop the threads or because...

they have a bit of a habit of going through favorites/their favorites take frequent breaks or are slower to reply, and it's good to have other muns around for when either situation happens - it's okay if everyone else is bored and/or left out, but not them

become angry and defensive if you ask them about your thread(s) and/or if everything is alright after a reasonable period of inactivity only on your threads*

if they previously had OOC contact and/or a friendship with you, it's one pole or another of OOC behavior with you now - no contact/as little as they can possibly manage or they'll proceed like you also only want to have conversations about what is going on with the favorite(s), the ships, the threads, the fandom, the mun. Before anyone misconstrues this to mean that "so, no matter what they do it's sus lol," no. There is such a thing as neither insulting someone by having nothing else to talk about except the mun/muse/ship you're ignoring them for nor just stopping/avoiding conversation altogether. It's actually not normal or acceptable to treat people like disposable fixations or expect them to be thrilled or lie about it when you can't shut up about their replacement(s)

in general, if this mun just keeps making it apparent that neither you nor anyone else exists unless they're the favored mun? That's really it. That's the difference between having favorites and still treating other muns with respect - there isn't any respect, none of you exist to respect

*I'm not going to speak to what is reasonable to everyone, it's one of those things I think muns should mention to some degree in their rules, but with people taking it to mean things it doesn't, it's doubtful that's going to happen. (I encourage it, though, please, put in your rules when you'll ask about threads or if you'll assume there is no more interest and they've been dropped. "After one month of no reply and no OOC contact, I will either contact you to ask if you're still interested." No big deal!) For me, it would depend on the mun themselves, even if I've got in my rules that after x time, I will assume y. If this is a mun that has updated OOC that they're extra slow right now, and they're usually pretty slow, I'm going to just see that as them prioritizing preferred partners with what little time they have, that's not coming across as rude favoritism to me at that point. If it's a mun that has continued to reply as normal, posted no updates OOC, and they're specifically just replying to one or two favorites with that regular timing, I'm going to ask if they're still interested after a month or so.

The problem always is that, despite what the RPC likes to say for the same damn reason, we're all afraid to be acting on ridiculous suspicion and paranoia. We get treated a certain way, maybe it is once and it was just extremely bad, maybe it has happened over and over again, and we really do start seeing phantoms of ill-treatment. It becomes difficult to trust your own judgment and listen to your inner voice (one that, furthermore, is already at least a bit embattled by life on and offline).

These are only some points to help you trust yourself or disprove yourself if you already feel like there might be this problem going on.

If you have someone who could be impartial when given evidence, you might want to consider asking if they'd mind helping you identify if this is a problem or not. Don't mention mun names or even muses if you're in the same intersections of the RPC, you're not trying to smear anyone here, just get a different viewpoint that isn't touched by any negative or positive feelings about that mun!

I said "evidence," so, I want to be clear that I did not mean screenshots or direct quotes. Give situations, what the mun is and is not doing, as both are important.

Some questions that might help you identify things to present to a third party for help:

Are they replying to any of your threads, how about asks?

If/when they reply to you IC, how do they reply? Is it shorter than it used to be, unenthusiastic? Or is it the same, just fewer and farther between, or less interesting to you than what they're doing with preferred partners?

Are the plots they're doing with the favorite(s) ones that you previously had with them or that you had plotted out and were working toward? And if that answer is yes, are these common plots that can be applied anywhere or specific ones?

Is this all something that is perhaps temporary overexcitement, or has this just kept going on for months, shows no sign of stopping?

Did you speak/were friends OOC? If so, how has this changed? Frequency of messaging, topics of conversation, enthusiasm, interest in you or your muse?

Are you now left out of games on the dash in which you used to be tagged, or unwelcome in things like "dash crack?" Is it, by contrast, that you might be welcome in the latter, but either it doesn't interest you by inclusion/focus of the favorite or because you lack a base of engagement with what's going on?

Do they send you memes, has that changed at all?

The way you feel is valid, but it might also be influencing the way you're viewing a situation, including in how you relate it to someone else for help. So, try to stick to actions when doing so.

By contrast, muns who have favorites but are not using this to justify being disrespectful to others tend to:

be open and upfront about having favorites and why - they're not trying to hide anything, including what makes their favorite writing partners, threads, and ships favorites to begin with

^they are not "open and upfront" by obnoxiously reminding everyone constantly who those favorites are, they're not shit posting how @munthatisntyou is their bestie/their muse is lusting after their muse/actually my wife. They are upfront about it by stating in their rules they can, will, and do have favorites. They're open about it by not lying or acting like it's the worst accusation ever when someone asks them about it

definitely have priority threads, might have an easier, thus faster, time responding to questions/prompts regarding those threads/ships, but still respond with equal interest to memes from others*

the same is true of interest and turnaround time with thread replies, they might get the preferred ones out faster, but they're still replying to everyone and still keeping other muns updated on what's going on*

will not be hostile when approached by fair, politely put concerns about threads, but rather, will respond with honesty as to their interests - whether they have, indeed, changed or haven't alike

they still express the same interest OOC outside of messages, liking and commenting on posts, sending memes, and being concerned or congratulatory when they see OOC posts dealing with life events

in general, muns who just have favorites like everyone does remain aware of others in the same way they always have, still make efforts to respond to threads, memes, messages, etc. with the same interest they always have - they appreciate everyone they interact with, not only their favorite(s)

*Everyone has a different way that works for them, and that influences their meme answering, thread replying, and OOC response turnaround time. A very social mun might respond to OOC messages more frequently, reliably, and with more zeal than a mun who is less socially active, forgetful, or dealing with different difficulties that might prevent doing so, for example. As another example, a mun who writes lengthy, detailed novella that takes a while to finish is going to take longer with everyone than a mun who writes in a way, or just has more time to write, that allows for replies to get out faster. Please, keep expectations and observances mindful of these factors and differences! What is typical of one mun might be perceived as legitimate favoritism when contrasted with a mun who operates differently than them.

That's really the difference, there is recognition and appreciation of everyone. They might have a visibly different friendship with their favorite(s), but it doesn't come with the cost of treating everyone else either like they don't exist or like total shit. And that comes in many ways, as many ways as there are possible interactions in the RPC. From being casual mutuals who do not write together (still acknowledging posts etc.) to outright writing partners (still giving replies with as much effort and quality).

You can think of muns like this as you would people who have different sorts of friendships as opposed to people who have rather cliquey friendships in which it's often enough a clique of two in which everyone else, even if included or otherwise used by those two, only exists out of necessity. The former is a normal social situation, we get on well with the people we do for a reason, and that's perfectly alright. The latter is some immature and self-interested behavior one should have grown out of in junior high.

As you didn't ask for this, I'm putting it under the cut as additional advice for others!

If you feel like someone is being disrespectful, or worse, and is glossing it over with "it's okay for people to have favorites, calm down" (a thing that's totally true but not meant to be used to excuse shitty behavior), you really do want to just remove yourself from the situation. In a situation like that, you're not going to change their behavior, and even if you did, are you ever going to be able unsee it?

What is more likely to happen is you'll be growing the seed of upset they planted into a big tree of animosity. Every time you are on your dash and see them replying or tagging their favorite(s), you're going to be either hurt or angry. Eventually, it's impossible to separate which of those things you are, and it's increasingly likely you're going to say or do something regrettable. And I mean regrettable in how it is likely to negatively affect you. You don't deserve to be branded a terrible person for an outburst. The situation has been bad enough.

Whether you should soft block to unfollow and force an unfollow, hard block, unfollow with or without communication is all subject to too many variables for me to advise any single course of action.

If it's possible to communicate politely that you're officially dropping threads or unfollowing, I will always advise doing so. If that isn't possible because this mun has been that terrible, or has proven in the past that they will react badly to such communications, then so be it, just quietly remove yourself from their presence.

You owe friends, even former ones if they've not done you awfully, the decency of communicating that you're ending things. You owe mutuals who haven't done anything more than ignoring you (as awful as that is, it's not as bad as being aggressively disrespectful, lying to you, leading you on, etc.) that decency and maturity as well. You do not owe anyone who has behaved like an immature ass that decency, it's okay to just leave in those cases. As it is in situations when you feel confident that speaking to them is going to cause drama for you.

When a mun hasn't ever really interacted with you, you've become mutuals, but it never went anywhere because they were already engaged in ignoring everyone except the favorite(s), it's alright to just leave quietly, too. They clearly don't register that you exist, so...don't exist. Go exist around muns who know you're there. But the caveat to that should be that if they decide to notice your vacant spot on the dash and come to you to ask about this, you should answer them. Be honest, but polite. Tell them that you just didn't see working out with them after all, and since you hadn't interacted, you unfollowed.

You never know (you just shouldn't count on it), in that latter case especially, that mun might honestly not be aware of the effect of their actions. Like everyone else, they're just doing what they enjoy, what makes them happy is what they're concentrated on, and might genuinely just have a narrow field of vision on it until spoken to.

Whatever is right for the unique situation at hand, don't lie to someone if they message you about it. Don't just act like it was an accidental unfollow or a tumblr glitch, grit your teeth, and add them back so that there is no unpleasantness. There is already unpleasantness if you felt the need to distance yourself from them, remember that!

#answered #anonymous #favoritism #rp advice #mun behavior

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fanfalc-616 · 3 years

Text

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Thirty: Whatever Master Wants

(Previous Chapter Here)

Hey so I’ve been coming up with a more detailed outline and I like the titles I’ve come up with and before they were only on Ao3 but now I’m adding them here.

Also I’ve already completed 31 and 32 before this so yay you guys get three chapters in three days (yes this is the second time this has happened lol)

Cryptor takes a deep breath, trying to ground himsel- itself? He- that, it… uh.

The nindroid tries to redirect the thoughts to something else, but it- he- the. Cryptor- or, General?

Teeth gritting, the nindroid wishes that things would just make sense for once. Everything is such a blur, a mix of conflicting memories and orders and feelings. Or, well, the feelings are just programmed, so they aren’t real feelings…

Are they?

Sighing, the nindroid leans its- his head against the back of the locker. Life- or the digital program that mimics it- has never been so frustrating.

Well. That he can remember. It’s pretty sure that it’s missing some of his memories. They’re all so blurred- it can only faintly remember anything from before he was here.

The most prominent memory of before is about another nindroid. General doesn’t remember much else, but he can remember the other’s face, and a name to go with it.

Sentry.

But besides that… it’s all so glitchy. He thinks it can recall something about gold armor and a purple snake, but even that is hazy.

From the memories it has of the facility, it knows that he’s had some kind of connection to Original. Some gut feeling makes it think that he knew the other before, maybe even by a different name. But nothing is clear enough to make sense of.

It’s about to try and unscramble more of his past- hopefully remembering more about Sentry- when he suddenly registers footsteps coming from outside the locker.

Tensing, it stands up straight again, making sure to wipe away any and all emotion.

It’s really not in the mood to get hurt today.

He remains quiet and compliant as it’s taken out of the locker, keeping his gaze blank and straight, not risking any kind of eye contact.

It feels itself trying to frown as it recognizes them seemingly going towards the training room. They- General hasn’t been taken there in a while, usually it’s only when he does something wrong, but… it can’t recall disobeying any orders recently. What else could it have done? It’s been doing what it’s supposed to, why-

When he’s chained down, he feels another wave of confusion hit him. It thinks he can vaguely remember the official in front of him, but they definitely aren’t one of his prioritized masters. So why-

His thoughts are cut off by a sudden blast of electricity, and it can only barely muffle a curse at the intensity. Still, his mind is racing as it stares at the chains holding him.

They still haven’t told it what it did.

Shaking, trembling, Cryptor can only just barely stay quiet. Teeth clenched and gaze lowered, it takes everything it has to hold himself together. What-

A particularly sharp and painful blast finally tears a real cry of pain out of his chest, leaving him panting.

Trembling, it finally looks up at the official. He knows it’s not supposed to make eye contact but at the moment, he’s too confused and stressed to care.

“Master?” It gets out, hoping that the way his voice is cracking will be ignored. It pauses, waiting for the official to reply. But much to his dismay, the only response is another painful shock.

A low pained gasp leaves it at the sharp pain, and in that moment, Cryptor makes a decision.

Fuck the rules, he wants to know what the hell is going on.

“Master!” He repeats, louder this time. “I- what am I being punished for? I- I want to know to avoid it in the future.”

As soon as the words are out, it curses itself internally. No, he’s not supposed to say ‘want’, they don’t like it when he implies he can feel or have desires, it-

The official studies him for a moment before he replies. “You didn’t,” he answers.

The confusion only increases. “What?” It questions, fighting the desperation that begs for it to strain against the chains. “What- what do you mean?”

“You haven’t done anything, General.”

“Then why-“

“Because.” The official glares. “You’re not alive. It doesn’t matter what I do to you. I’m human, and I’ve chosen to bring you here, and that’s all that matters.”

Shock floods through his systems. Staring, he tries to wrap his head around the words. What- no! No, it’s one thing to be punished for a mistake, but that- he can’t-

“That’s not fair!” Cryptor snarls out the words before he can stop himself. “If I didn’t do anything wrong, then-“

The words are cut off by his own cry of pain as the voltage is abruptly raised, a wave of agony flashing over him.

Gasping, it can feel its power source heating up in panic. Okay, okay, this- usually when he’s punished, there’s something he can do to lessen it. It’s not allowed to beg for mercy, but usually if it accepts the punishment and agrees that it deserves it and acknowledges the mistake then that’s considered good enough. What is he supposed to do here? Just… suffer?

Cryptor lowers its gaze, trembling. Everything inside it is screaming, screaming to resist, screaming to submit, screaming incoherently to the point where it can barely even register the world around it, the only thing that even seems to exist in that moment is the pain flooding its systems.

It’s times like this that he wishes he was allowed to lower his sensitivity. It’d be really helpful if he could just numb himself to these unfairly painful shocks.

Every moment that passes feels like an eternity. It doesn’t have anything to focus on, no behaviors to reconsider, no rules to remind itself of, no realizations it can make. The only thing he can do is just sit there with the agony.

It’s not allowed to beg for mercy, either. As a nindroid, he shouldn’t be able to have these wants or desires, and definitely not enough to cry for it.

Shaking, General feels himself slowly losing more and more control. Everything inside is a mess, everything is so murky and blurry and confused and it hurts-

Faintly, he can hear a door open. It’s a struggle, but he manages to direct his attention towards it- a thing that thankfully becomes easier as the shocks lessen some. Master had probably gotten distracted by whoever had-

Kyle.

Shit.

The blond walks into the room, glancing around the scene. “Hey, wh-” With a sudden pause, he looks between the official and Cryptor. “Wait, what's going on?”

Cryptor keeps his head down. It knows that it’s not supposed to have preferences- he thinks- but Kyle has always been a source of fear for it. Or, well, digital fear.

Even though it’s not looking directly, it can still see the official turning to look at Kyle. “Training program,” he answers. “Out of your jurisdiction, I believe.”

“Out of my- What do you mean? I work on this project, I should know!” The blond looks over at Cryptor again, and this time it makes sure to avoid any kind of reaction, even as the shocks continue.

He sounds annoyed and maybe even a little angry- both things that never end well for General.

Although Kyle has been acting differently recently… it’s not really sure why, though. Probably some other kind of test.

He risks glancing up to see the encounter. Something important seems to be going on here…

“My orders came from above you,” the official glares. “This is none of your concern.”

While maintaining eye contact with the blond, he hits General with an even more intense shock- and this time, it’s only just barely able to prevent itself from crying out.

“Oh, I can promise you it is,” Kyle growls, the words pointed enough to almost make the nindroid start trembling.

“What the fuck is going on?”

The electricity seems to be increasing in power- another test. Or, well, it probably really is just the official trying to vent- Kyle doesn’t seem to be helping the matter.

Through the rising pain, Cryptor keeps his teeth clenched, forcing it down. The official doesn’t seem to be backing down, and it’s kinda starting to hope Kyle wins whatever argument this is- Cryptor thinks it prefers tests and punishments to being used as a punching bag.

“Look, why don’t you go back to your job?” The official sounds almost condescending, now. “I’m sure your supervisor is looking for you.”

“Oh, my supervisor? So you think I'm just some intern?” Kyle chuckles dangerously, the sound all too familiar to the nindroid.

“Does the name 'Kyle Griffin' ring any bells for you?”

The words are spoken conversationally, but there’s a sharp underlying threat beneath them.

General can only barely see through the pain at this point- until it suddenly stops, and he can only barely stop the relieved gasp from escaping him at the sudden release.

The official stumbles back, looking at the blond with a horrified expression. “Wh- wait, you’re…”

“Yep, it's me. I know I don't look like what people might expect.” Kyle wears a tight, forced smile, even though he doesn’t seem to be trying to hide the threat in his voice. “And if you don't want to know what you'd look like fired, I suggest you go report to your superior before I go report to Marth- Ms. Finch.”

Cryptor feels programmed shock settle into him as he watches the official nod his agreement and start backing towards the door- even picking up his pace when Kyle intensifies his glare.

When he’s gone, and the footsteps have fully receded, the blond sighs with a small shake of his head. “Can't believe I still have to pull out the 'Martha' card these days,” he mutters to himself.

It has to force itself not to tense up when he comes up to it, crouching down to the nindroid’s level.

“Hey. Have the shocks stopped?” He prompts, wearing an almost sympathetic smile.

For a moment, all it can do is stare. After that, the realization that he’s ignoring a direct question hits him like a bucket of ice water, and it quickly nods. “They- they have, Master,” he confirms.

“It hurts, what they're doing to you, doesn’t it?” Kyle shakes his head ever so slightly. “I mean, I know for a fact it's been worse than before.”

Cryptor ignores the way the blond’s eyes scan over him in favor of trying to figure out if he’s supposed to answer that. Was that a rhetorical question? Or does he actually want to know if it hurts? Well, obviously he knows it does, but-

It quickly pushes the thoughts from his mind and chooses to try and answer. Better safe than sorry, right?

“Yes, Master,” it agrees quietly. How could any of this not hurt?

Kyle sighs, still with that sympathetic look. “But you're stubborn. You won't let yourself go, even when you know it'll lessen the sting.” The words sound almost consoling, somehow sounding so wrong and so right at the same time.

“Maybe it's time you let go, you know,” he says gently. “Because they won't stop until you do."

It’s a struggle to keep itself from shaking. This is just… it’s the crux of the war that he’s been waging all this time. Stay or go? Yes or no? Fight or yield?

“You can stop, now,” Kyle assures. “It's way easier. You've been fighting a losing battle. Don't you think it needs to end?”

After hesitating for one final moment, General nods. “Yes, Master,” it gets out, the waver in its voice steadying towards the end.

Looking back down at the ground, it feels an almost peaceful feeling overtake it. A calmness after the war that’s been raging for so long.

“It does,” it says simply.

And it has.

#the rights of a nindroid #trauma #psychological torture #torture #zangst #ninjago fanfiction #angst

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lemurious · 3 years

Text

Like starlight turned to flame

for @alkarinqque for @officialtolkiensecretsanta

Happy holidays and thank you so much for a wonderful prompt! Hope you enjoy what it turned to! <3

cw: death

They stand before Eönwë, huddled in cloaks that offer little protection against the rain pelting their bodies, and their hands seek each other.

Elrond can barely focus on the question and does not understand why Eönwë even considers their kindred to be a choice, when to him it has only ever been family. How could he think of himself as anyone other than an Elf, Noldor and Sindar mixed, as his grey eyes and black hair can attest, and secretly, while berating himself for excessive pride, he likes to tell himself that he got the better parts of both. The boundless curiosity and the compassion. The courage and the protectiveness. Everything he and his brother have managed to scrounge up from their two sets of parents lost to the iron law of the Valar, whose emissary is now looking down at them, waiting for their response.

Elrond tears his gaze from the figure in shining mail, seemingly immune to the downpour, back towards the disorienting sight of a sunken shore, their homes now lying under the wave. He wonders if their grief will ever fade. This year, it has kept returning like a tide, swallowing him in the heavy silence of their childhood being gone, forcing him to pace the hallway of their ramshackle house until he would give in and knock on Elros’s door, curl up in a chair next to his brother to watch the flames dance in their fireplace through the long winter night. Together.

At least they have each other, he thinks, for the last fleeting moment before Elros squeezes his fingers hard enough to hurt. Before Elros looks at the Herald of the Valar and says in a voice loud and firm: “I choose to belong to the kindred of Men, my lord.”

---

Idril has dragged her husband through the crumbling tunnels and foaming waves, from the only home they have ever known turned to ash and ruin, through the doom that has been hanging over her head since she was too young to remember, through the wrath of all the Seas encircling Valinor, and she will be damned if she has to lose him to something as simple as death.

She stands tall and straight, a circlet of diamonds on her head, the steel of her feet shining like silver, Curufin’s best work, her eyes ablaze with the light of the Trees that could never be quenched, not even by the darkness of Helcaraxë.

Idril Silverfoot, who has walked through ice and looked death in the face and then dared to be happily married anyway, stares right into the face of Mandos and demands that Tuor be allowed to join her as one of the Eldar.

After all, even the Valar have admitted that Tuor has brought hope to Arda, ignoring her part as usual, though now she is glad about it, because it helps her make her case to keep Tuor with her, immortal as he secretly believes himself to be anyway, having been raised among the Elves.

“Your plea has been accepted,” says Mandos, “but the balance shall be retained. One born from you will have to leave the Elvenkind and become a mortal Man instead.”

She attempts to argue some more, but Mandos is implacable, and in any case she cannot think far beyond the joy of having rescued her husband from what they both consider to be the Doom of Men – what cruel foolishness would it be to call it a Gift?

She already knows that they will not take her son, who has been cursed to ride the skies with a Silmaril in the front of his ship, a mortal body could never survive the slow, quiet destruction wrought by the fire imprisoned within the jewel.

Idril’s grandsons are all but lost to her, she has never met them, even their own mother barely knew them and could tell her little about them when questioned.

Idril has always been a survivor and she knows that it inevitably means making the kind of choices that could pull her apart if she is not careful enough. She only hopes that whoever will be born of her blood and destined for mortality will be strong enough to make their life a happy one in spite of all their losses.

---

Before the bleakness of the aftermath, there was the terror of the War, and just before that, a moment of respite, a time to set aside the fears, and learn to fight, and sing, and gather mussels on the shore.

A moment to hold the hands of the two Elves who have turned from captors into fathers in record time, to call their names to ward against the nightmares. A moment to feel like children again, like the sons of someone still within their reach.

Elros swears to treasure every one of these moments after the evening when, during one of his solitary strolls along the beach, a figure rises from the waves and introduces himself as Ulmo, the Lord of Waters.

Elros shivers in fear, frozen on the spot and unable to move even if the alternative is drowning. But Ulmo does not threaten to drown him, instead, he looks on as if with a great sorrow, and tells of yet another doom that the Valar have now hung above their heads.

“You will be asked to choose,” he says. “And if neither of you accepts the Doom of Men, Lord Mandos will choose for you.”

Elros has never considered himself of any kindred but Elven, but he knows that neither has Elrond, and more, that Elrond, if given a choice, would spend his entire life learning the Elven lore by night, healing the wounds left by the long sequence of wars by day.

Meanwhile Elros has to admit to himself that he does not have any passion save the vague but persistent wish to one day become a great lord and rule a kingdom, a prospect so dim, given his circumstances, that he keeps scolding himself for naivety.

He could become a Man, he thinks, but he feels so young when confronted by the enormity of the decision. So childlike. He just does not want to, which reminds him of his tears when he clutched his mother and watched her kiss him and his brother and walk away. The only clear memory he has of her.

He is too scared to accept this doom for himself. Could he do it for his brother?

---

“You have been deep in thought all day, and they do not seem to be pleasant thoughts,” says Maglor to Elros, who keeps lingering in the kitchen after dinner, long after Elrond ran off back to the library as always, and Maedhros went outside to try to repair the roof that has just started leaking again. “Would you care to share them with me?”

Elros shakes his head. He tells himself that he should not add to his father’s worries, though deep inside he is terrified that Maglor would make him choose. Or that Elrond would find out, and would then insist of taking the curse upon himself instead, and he would never, ever be able to forgive himself for dragging his brother into it. Yet he feels that if he had to face all of it alone he would crumble, and then the truth would come out anyway, with all its terrible consequences.

“Atya, have you ever regretted something you have not done? Especially, something that – that could have helped one of your brothers, though he would have never found out?”

Maglor looks shocked. He turns away and visibly struggles to compose his face before answering. “Too many times, kid. I should have… told my brothers not to follow our father. Should have stopped them at the gates of Doriath… Should have… should have stood in the place of the one my brother loved the most, on that muddy battlefield, for maybe then he would have lived and my brother would still be happy and carefree. Should have kept all my brothers from pursuing the Silmarils at any cost.”

“But you could have been killed!”

“I would not seek death, but it is not always a wrong choice to risk your own life to protect those you love.”

Elros suddenly lunges at Maglor, wrapping his arms around his waist, and hugs him tight.

“Thank you, Atya,” he sniffles. “Could you sing me a lullaby tonight, as I fall asleep?”

“Tonight and any other night, for as long as you wish,” Maglor replies, a little confused and worried about what has just happened. Well, it is a miracle those kids have managed to be as cheerful as they are, most of the time, given what they already had to live through.

---

Elrond lets go of Elros’s arm in disbelief. That is what Elros chooses to do? Has he ever really known his brother? And does it mean - does it mean that after such a brief lifespan of Men they will never again -- he turns to look at Elros, to yell at him, call him a traitor.

He sees that Elros has gone deadly quiet, teeth clenched, staring straight ahead, but Elrond knows his brother and can tell that he is shaking in fear.

Elrond’s anger evaporates in an instant, as he pulls Elros into a massive hug and whispers in his ear: “It will be alright. I understand. It may not be my choice, but you will always be my brother.” He feels Elros relax with every word.

---

Mandos is kind. He gives Elros many times the lifespan of Men and lets him build a home halfway between his mother and his brother, though he misses his fathers the most, all of them, and all of them are lost – in the fire, in the sky, on the shores. Like the Silmarils.

Elros raises children of his own, and tells them that their siblings will be the strongest bond they will ever have, so they would better cherish it. They listen, these kids with dark grey eyes, too large in their faces, too solemn for their age. They had to grow up quickly, as befits the children of Men and the heirs of the High King.

Uncle Elrond visits every year and tells them stories, and teaches them the arts of healing, and stands with Elros on the tallest tower watching the stars fade into the West, awaiting one of them, forbidden for the other.

They whisper their memories to be kept for as long as one of them lives, and swear an oath to find each other, and all their parents, again, however long it took them and even if it meant going beyond the circles of Arda.

---

When time comes for him to leave, Elros does not even feel cheated, just ready. His children have long grown up, he has become a grandfather and a great-grandfather so many times he finds it difficult to remember all the names.

He calls for Elrond, who has been at his side for days, and suddenly there is a shadow on the other side of his bed, and a familiar voice begins a lullaby Elros remembers from his childhood. “Thank you, Atya,” he murmurs as the colors begin to fade.

In the end, he did not even have to lie, Elros thinks. It was his choice, perhaps for a different reason than Elrond might have guessed, but it was, truly, his, and it brought him the kingdom he did not dare to dream of, and the family he could have never imagined, loved even fiercer because of their mortality, like a flame that has its own beauty compared to the starlight.

He would make his choice a thousand times over, Elros admits to himself as the walls fade into the mist, and he feels more than hears the voice of Mandos rumbling in his ears, assuring him with the sadness of one who is forced to deal in law, and not in love, that he will grant the brothers their own oath in recompense for the ones he has bestowed upon them, that it will not be their final farewell.

#tss2020 #lemur writes #my fic #elrond #elros #idril #mandos #cw: death #maglor #a bit of kidnap dads

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meztliel · 4 years

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When Love Hits You

For Day one of GoChi Week 2020

Prompt: College Au

Chi-Chi’s first day on campus is not going the way she expected.

Her head whips sideways as something solid comes out of nowhere and hits her on the right side of her head. Chi-Chi wobbles, brain swimming as dots and stars dance across her vision. Her roommate Lazuli is thankfully there to catch her before she trips over, holding her by the elbow and waist as Chi-Chi regains her balance.

“Hey! Are you okay?” She hears someone yell, presumably the person who threw whatever it was at her. She looks down at her feet and sees it’s a football. Figures.

“I think you might have given her a concussion.”

Chi-Chi looks up to see who Lazuli is talking to, and sees a jock in an orange t-shirt running towards them from across the lawn of the frat house, looking concerned as he stops in front of them. He’s hot, she thinks absurdly, noting this unimportant detail in spite of or because of the possible concussion.

“I’m really sorry,” he says, picking up the football with a frown on his too-handsome face. “I think I overdid it.”

“Nah, it’s my fault. I should’ve caught it," a different voice says.

It’s only then she notices the other person next to them, a short jock with a shaved head who is also wearing an orange t-shirt. He seems to be more focused on Lazuli than in addressing Chi-Chi. Not surprising, considering Lazuli is a knock-out, but he can at least express more concern for the situation than drooling over her friend, since if he’d caught the damn thing her head wouldn’t have done it for him.

Suddenly, a swell of anger rises to bubble out of her mouth.

“Be careful where you aim that thing! There are students walking up and down this sidewalk, you know.”

She regrets yelling immediately as it brings another throb to her headache. Not only that, but the hot guy flinches away like a scolded puppy at her outburst, and Chi-Chi is reminded that it was only an accident.

Chi-Chi would’ve expected a jock like him to reply with something snarky, something excusing his careless disregard for student safety, but instead he twists his eyebrows remorsefully as he scratches his temple in a nervous gesture.

“I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“We’re good. Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary.”

Lazuli begins to pull Chi-Chi away, quickly raking her eyes over the shorter of the two jocks with a a look of mild interest.

As Lazuli guides her away to the campus medical facility, Chi-Chi casts her eyes over her shoulders, seeing that the two men are still staring at them as they walk away.

The good news is that she doesn’t have a concussion. The bad news is, she now has a rather large lump on the side of her head. She presses an ice pack against it as she watches the students trickle into the classroom, wondering why her first day of college had to start off like this.

She's been looking forward to life on campus since she got accepted to this university, and while Chi-Chi wasn't expecting it to be perfect, she also wasn't expecting to get decked in the head by a wayward football.

Incidentally, the last student to wander into the classroom happens to be the very guy who happened to throw that football, his eyes widening and mirroring hers when he spots her sitting next to the only seat available.

He then bashfully smiles at her as he takes his seat next to her, smelling like sweat and soap.

“Um. Hi. How are you doing?” His tone is slightly nervous, but it’s also friendly and sounds genuinely concerned.

Chi-Chi can tell just by looking at him that he's probably a popular guy both around and outside of campus, because he is not only good-looking, but actually seems like a nice person. Careless, maybe a bit meathead-y, but nice.

With a roll of her eyes, she indicates the ice pack pressed against her head. “I’ll live.”

He smiles, a simple tug of lips that somehow make him look even more handsome. “Can I make it up to you somehow?”

Before she can even conceive up a proper response to that, the professor walks in, introducing himself simply as ‘Whis.’

Because it’s a small class, Professor Whis has the students go around and briefly introduce themselves, having them say their name along with a few random facts about themselves.

When it's the hot jock's turn, she can practically see hearts dancing in front of some of the students' eyes as he waves at all of them with a look in his face that can light up an entire stadium.

“Hi, I’m Goku. I like football and kung fu movies."

That’s it. That’s all he says, and it’s the only name among her fellow classmates that Chi-Chi is going to remember.

“So, Chi-Chi, was it? Where’s your next class? Can I walk you there?”

The other students are filing out, the class having been dismissed mere seconds ago. Chi-Chi slings her heavy book bag over her shoulders, her mouth parted in astonishment at his inquiry.

Throughout the lecture, he’d been stealing glances at her, trying his best to be subtle but failing to be so because she would catch him staring at her nearly every time she looked his way. Which in turn, means that she also was staring, but it’s only because he was doing it in the first place.

Chi-Chi brushes off these furtive glances as nothing more than his guilt for having thrown a football at her head, and nothing else.

Sure, Chi-Chi is aware that she is objectively pretty, but she’s not drop-dead gorgeous like Lazuli, or classically beautiful like her other housemate, Bulma. She’s just pretty. She's the girl next door type that guys won’t turn their heads for on the street but might smile at from across a library or gym.

Unlike Goku, who’s not only turning heads, but is also probably causing whiplashes, and not just because he threw a football at their head.

A guy like him can get the kind of women you’ll see in the front covers of swimsuit magazines, so she really shouldn’t feel flattered that he’s walking her to her class, or that he offers to carry her book bag (which he does), or that he hasn’t stopped smiling since she accepted to let him walk her to her next class.

Her brain starts to conjure up excuses as to why he's being so friendly with her. Maybe he has an underlying motive. Maybe he wants her to be his next lay. Or maybe, again, he simply has guilt about what happened earlier and feels obliged to be extra nice to her. Neither of these motives are appealing to her, so she cuts him off mid-sentence while he’s rambling about classic kung-fu films, saying that she’s gotta hurry or she'll be late.

His expression is startled as she grabs her book bag back from him and then runs off to her next class, wondering why she's like this.

It doesn't take long before they're reunited again, and it's only a few hours later on in the evening at a party their sister house is hosting.

"Hello again," he says as he sits next to her on the couch, holding a water bottle instead of a red plastic cup like everyone else in this house is.

Everyone but her, and evidently him.

"Hey," she says back, feeling a kick in her chest as he looks at her with that perfect, disarming smile of his. It's probably felled thousands before her, and she's determined that she won't fall victim to it. She won't.

There are people all around them who are absolutely trashed. Grinding against each other as hip hop booms out the speakers. Playing beer pong and other silly little drinking games. Making out in the corners and wherever else they feel like.

Meanwhile, here they are, two sober individuals who keep running into each other and are basically forced to interact.

"How come you're sitting all alone here? Your head still hurt?"

Chichi laughs sarcastically through her nose. "I have class in the morning and don't wanna show up with a hangover. But I can't sleep, either, because I live here."

"Oh, this is your party?"

"Not my party. My housemate Bulma's party. She wanted to end the first day of college with a bang, and everyone else agreed with her. Majority vote ruled, so I had to go along with it."

It's an amazing coincidence that this new roommate of hers, Bulma, also happens to be childhood best friends with this cute boy sitting beside her, a cute boy who just doesn't seem to want to leave her alone as he invites her out to sushi.

Between having to stay here and practically yell over the music with the stench of alcohol in the air, and going out for sushi with who may actually be the most attractive man she's ever met, she'll take the latter choice, thank you.

It's a decision she doesn't regret as the two of them walk side by side to his dorm room, their bellies full and hearts content.

At first she was reluctant to go along with him, thinking Goku was insinuating something by offering his bed so that she can actually get some sleep for tomorrow. It’s not that she’s a prude. Chi-Chi is simply not the kind of girl to have a one-night stand with a person she just met, no matter how handsome he is. In fact, she’s still a virgin, and the only other times she’s kissed boys has been on dates that never go anywhere.

So maybe she’s a little bit of a prude, but is that such a bad thing? Perhaps it’s time to shed her virginal layer, to cut a little loose on this new, exciting chapter in her life. She’s devoted her life long enough to being a responsible, disciplined student and well-behaved daughter. Maybe it’s time to live a little, and let things take their course to something more adventurous than having her nose stuck to a book.

His room is small and modest, with the most notable thing in it being the collection of retro video tapes of kung fu films sorted out randomly on a bookshelf . There’s also a poster of Bruce Lee taped on one of the walls, and Chi-Chi realizes with a start that Goku kind of, sort of resembles that classic movie star and kung fu master, except that Goku's buffer and arguably even more handsome.

Her pulse is racing as she sits on this futon, watching as he picks out one of the movies in his collection. He’s so excited to share his passion with her that she can feel the moment his smile lances her right in the heart. He’s not even trying to be smooth at this point. He’s totally geeking out and it reminds her of how she behaves when she gets started about literature.

As the night progresses they end up inching closer together, until his arm is wrapped around her shoulders and she’s all but stopped paying attention to the movie and is instead paying attention to the warmth of his body, to his beautiful profile that is like if someone carved it out of a dream.

Out of nowhere, she feels something soft and gentle kiss the right side of her head, on the lump that she had forgotten was there.

“Sorry again for hitting you with a football. But can I admit something? It was kind of funny.”

He laughs as Chi-Chi playfully slaps him on one of his pecs, noticing with surprised delight just how firm it is as she agrees and laughs along with him.

Chi-Chi doesn’t lose her virginity that night, and that’s okay, because being wrapped around in his arms like this is even better, feeling his heartbeat against her back as they cuddle on his cramped, uncomfortable futon, feeling something warmer inside her begin to spread like the light of a thousand lit candles.

Maybe her first day of college didn’t start out perfectly, but it sure is ending in the highest possible note.

#gochiweek #gochiweek2020 #gochi #fanfiction #goku #chi-chi #dbz fanfiction

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morethanaprincess-a · 4 years

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@monsieur-de-paris said: 1, 3, 38

The Be Honest Meme (Still accepting! Already answering 1, 3, 31, and 38)

1. What would prevent you from following someone?

I answered this already here. :)

3. What current rp trend do you hate?

Ooh, I have a few. In no particular order:

- Blogs where the rules, muse info, and mun info are not easily accessible. If I have to click around various moving icons to find what I think a rules page should be, I’m less inclined to want to engage. I prefer rules on pages (and linked in a pinned post) to a google doc but I can use either. I just hate when the blog layout is so stylized that this information is not easily found.

- Replies with gifs. I’m not terribly picky about icons (especially for canon characters. And for OCs that don’t use a canon FC, I understand that it can be difficult to have enough icons with their expressions), but I dislike gifs in replies just because it causes my feed to load slowly.

- Writing styles that are just difficult to read. Double small text, multiple spaces between words, etc. I prefer third person past tense for my own writing but I won’t hold anyone to that, but I need to be able to read posts and replies.

- Self-deprecating attitudes when it comes to writing. It’s hard to be confident all day, every day, in your skills and portrayal but I see more and more blogs insisting they’re terrible to the degree of “I don’t know why people stick around for my trash writing but thank you!” It’s your muse and your interpretation. Own that shit! Because no one will be a bigger cheerleader for your muse and your writing than you.

- Shyness in being afraid to reach out. Approaching new people is not easy, but the more you don’t even try to send memes, reach out in messages or discord, or find some other way to interact, the less likely you’ll get interactions. It’s flattering to be approached, for sure, but the trend of being so shy and afraid of others to reach out needs to stop. We’re all nerds writing about fictional characters we love.

- Sending anon hate. I don’t think any more needs to be said about this.

- Unless the muse is a Danganronpa canon character, automatic friendship and knowledge about my muse without plotting first. I know there’s the various memes that go around to the likes of “We don’t need to write our characters meeting for the first time!” or “Let me know straight up if our characters can ship!” I like growing those bonds throughout threads, especially if I’m writing with a canon character from a different fandom. Everyone portrays their muses differently and my muse may not react the same way to one portrayal of a muse versus another. Of course, chatting OOC and plotting can help streamline this process along but it’s more of an annoyance when it comes out of nowhere, because first meeting interactions aren’t terribly popular.

- When muns tag long IC posts with a trigger warning (specifically because it’s a long post). For me, my favorite type of long post to see on my dash are long IC posts, in contrast to images, gifsets, memes, etc. I get it if long posts just make the feed more difficult to load, but why should writing length be a trigger?

38. What advice would you give to someone new to rp?

This could go two ways, being new to RP in general or being new to Tumblr RP. So I’ll try to go over both!

- If you’re interested in playing a canon muse, know that muse and their fandom very, very well. Play their games, read their books, watch their shows. If it’s a popular fandom, you will likely be interacting with other muses from that fandom who will expect it from you. If not, you might just sell other muns on checking out your fandom by your portrayal!

- Unless you’re confident you can handle it, do not take on too many muses at once. Doubly so if you’re in a popular fandom(s). Keeping up with threads, sending asks/memes, doing promotion, queueing content...that all takes a significant amount of time, not to mention writing for several different characters and voices. Start with one and see how it goes, maybe try a test muse here and there (maybe with a meme prompt?). If you’re able to keep up with it all, then make a second blog or add more muses. It’s easy to get overwhelmed fast when you’re just excited to RP for the first time and want to try everything all at once.

- Lurk. Lurk where you want to be roleplaying. If that’s tumblr, go through the applicable RP tags for your intended blog (Are you indie or wanting to join a group? What about fandom? If you’re writing an OC, which sorts of fandoms or mediums do you want to write them in?). Get a feel of not only what muses are out there, but some of the more accepted conventions of tumblr roleplaying: see how others set up their about pages, their rules, their verses, etc. Find out how people are interacting (plotted starters? memes? spontaneous asks?). It’s easy to sign up for an account but I’d recommend spending some time researching how different platforms approach roleplay. When I started on tumblr for both indie and group RP, accounts like @rpedia were very helpful.

- Decide, at least to start, what your rules, limits, and interests are. Maybe you’re underage or just not interested in smut, make sure that’s in your rules. Maybe there’s a fandom you don’t want to interact with, make sure to list it. Are you only interested in one-liner responses or do you want to write multiple paragraphs (or both!)? How quickly do you want to respond to threads? And if you want to participate in shipping, that’s a whole different set of things to consider. Before jumping into the tags, threads, and reaching out to people, having at least the beginnings of your rules, your muse info, your mun info (age and mun name/pronouns as the bare minimum), and possibly your verses should be available for potential partners to peruse.

- But still be flexible. Your rules can change and your interests can change. This happened to me with my shipping preferences and I’ve updated my rules over time to reflect that. I’d also add ‘Be open-minded’ to this as well: interact with muses from other fandoms and OCs. Try new friendships and possibly romantic relationships you might not have considered for your muse when you decided to write them. I’ve found that being open to all sorts of interactions brings some fantastic muses, writers, and often friends into your life.

- Do not be discouraged when you’re first starting out and don’t have too many interactions. Especially if you’re writing an OC, a canon character in an unpopular fandom, or you’re just plain new to the RP scene (in general or on any platform). It takes awhile to appear in the tags and to grow your network. Post drabbles, post headcanons, follow accounts you want to write with, and don’t be afraid to reach out to potential muns. For the most part, many of us are very easygoing because we know what it’s like to start in this hobby!

- If someone says they do not want to write and/or ship with you, do not take it personally. They may not care for your muse, your fandom, your writing style, your portrayal, your content, or just the ship in general. You, the mun, are writing your muse the way you want to and there’s nothing wrong or bad about it, but it might just not work for the other person. There are always plenty more people to write and ship with. But there’s no use getting angry, begging for them to change their mind, or worse, slander them on your writing platform (or off it). Just take it in stride.

- And most importantly, read (and watch and play, but especially read) and write. It is very easy to get writer’s block or just feel like you cannot match someone’s length. But I suggest writing something you want to read, and how to do that is to read something you want to read and practice, practice, practice. I find movies, TV shows, and most games can give great plot ideas, but when it comes to putting those ideas into words? Nothing beats the written or audio word. You don’t have to immerse yourself in anything particularly highbrow that’s found in a lit class, either. Just indulge in writing styles, plots, and characters that inspire you and your muse, and then just write. Drabbles, headcanons, replies, starters, writing frequently keeps you in good practice. That might be every day, that might be every week, but the more you keep doing it the more it’ll improve. And then it’ll feel less like a chore.

- But that being said, take a break when RP is more of a chore than it is fun. You might be burnt out on a variety of things, but don’t forget to tell your partners!

#more-than-a-princess answered #more-than-a-princess musings #(The Be Honest Meme)#monsieur-de-paris #(Thanks for the ask!)#(These questions tend to bring out long answers)

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valsworldofcreativity · 5 years

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Requests are open !

So i am taking request! You all can request for Eisuke, Soryu, Baba, Mamoru from “Kissed By The Baddest Bidder (KBTBB) & Sam & Dean Winchester from “Supernatural” & guys from "Lovestruck" from GIL, AFK,L&L, Castway & HIFL. Give me number & name of the guy!

Here are some of the prompts you can request from:

“You’re hair is really soft after you wash it.”

“Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

“You smell really nice.”

“Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

“I might have slept with your robe when you were gone.”

“If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”

“Here, let’s share the blanket.”

“You’re comfy.”

“You are my new pillow.”

“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

“But I want to hear you sing.”

“We can talk over dinner.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Try it!”

“Don’t get up - I’ll do it.”

“Will you let me rub your back?”

“Care to give me a back scratch?”

“Star-gazing was a good idea.”

“You look beautiful/handsome in the moonlight.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

“I’ll be here to protect you.”

“I think I love you.”

“You are my love.”

“How about something warm? It will will help you sleep.”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Don’t be silly. I want to stay up with you.”

“It is not morning yet.”

“Shush and go back to bed.”

“I heard you talking in your sleep.”

“Your bed head is really cute.”

“We’ll do dishes together.”

“How about a kiss?”

“I love your hugs.”

Here, I saved some for you. Try it?”

“I just really need a hug right now…”

“You. Me. Movie marathon. Get all the snacks you can carry.”

“Join me in the blanket fort. We play until dawn.”

“It’s cake, how difficult can it be?”

“Sure, it *looks* safe, but watch what happens when I do this.”

“I had a nightmare… can you stay up with me?”

“We’re going to have to raid the neighbors if you want more pillows to turn this into a Pillow Fortress Castle.”

“This would look so cute on you!”

“Okay, but if you turn the lights off for this playthrough, I’m not being held accountable for anything I do when spooked.”

“I said we could share a blanket, but if you put your cold feet on me *one more time*…”

“You’ve been working too hard and I’m calling a Netflix intervention. Not taking no for an answer.”

“I’ve got a gallon of ice cream and if you don’t get a spoon my tummyache will be all your fault.”

“Fight me. Pillow fight. And by fight I mean cuddle.”

“My hand is cold. Unless we find somewhere to stop soon, it’s going up your back.”

“Oh my god, just pet my hair already.”

“After that movie you’re staying for a sleepover. I know you don’t want to go home and sleep alone anyway.”

“Is there a reason you’re gnawing on me?”

“C'mon, I need a Player 2.”

“I bet you can’t make it all the way through the movie without screaming at it.”

“If you put that in the microwave uncovered I swear I will beat you to death with a plastic spoon.”

“What was that flavor of cake you liked? I need to know because reasons.”

“When we get that house you’re handling the spiders.”

“Going to the mall alone is boring. Besides, I need someone to tell me how great I look in all the clothes I try on.”

“It’s not MY fault you scream like a schoolgirl on a rollercoaster.”

“It’s an arcade, do you need more reasons to go?”

“Please tell me why you were napping in my freshly dried blankets *while they’re still in the dryer*.”

“Can we please take cheesy best friend pictures in that photo booth? I promise to keep silly faces to a minimum.”

“I’m singing along to this song and you can’t stop me, so either deal with it or join me.”

“C'mon, with anyone else this would be too weird.”

“I hate this game so much. Here’s a link, you should totally play it.”

“I take no responsibility for any smells you may or may not encounter from this point forward.”

“HELP I HAVE A SPLINTER”

“Okay, but consider that if you don’t watch this show with me, I’ll still rant to you just as much about the feels it gives me.”

“If anyone turns that fan off again I swear someone’s going to bleed.”

“Help me, the computer’s making sad beeps again. Make it happy, please.”

“THIS MOVIE MAKES ME CRY EVERY TIME WHY DID YOU LET ME CHOOSE IT?!”

“I have in front of me: One DVD, seven remote controls, and an entertainment center. This will be a voyage of discovery.”

“If I die, you get my cat. So make sure I live through this.”

“I need someone to cling to in the haunted house, and you’re it.”

“Yeah, but you’re *my* nerd.”

“The remote is two feet thataway and I don’t feel like moving. We’re stuck with this.”

“You are aware this was the worst idea ever and you’re lucky you’re my best friend, or else I’d leave you alone to deal with this.”

“I’d say sorry my mom tried to adopt you again, but it was kind of my idea.”

“There is a perfectly good reason I’m eating these mini marshmallows right out of the package, I’m certain of it. Probably.”

“Okay but hear me out: Fluffy. Sharks.”

“Please keep your sick away from me and get better soon. I made you soup.”

“That sounds like a bad idea. I’m in.”

“If you don’t come up and sing with me, I will sing and point at you. The entire. Time.

Well, what can I say? I’m a badass.”

“Define normal.”

“Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?”

“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”

“Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.”

“It’s amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm.”

“I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.”

“And you wonder why you’re still single.”

“Remind me to kill you. Please.”

“I’m listening to you. I’m just not paying attention.”

“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Were you dropped on your head?”

“She’s crazy. And just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, there’s a crazy underground garage.”

“She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind close doors she’s latex and whips.”

“If my day gets any worse, I’m asking hell if they’re having an exchange program.”

“Sorry. I don’t speak skank.”

“If I survive, can I go home?”

“My middle finger salutes you.”

“This is a whole new level of moronic, even for you.”

“I don’t think I could ever stab someone. I mean, let’s be honest. I can barely get the straw in the Capri Sun.”

“I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel.”

“Insanity run in my family. It practically gallops.”

“Oh darling. Go buy a brain.”

“Somebody’s cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.”

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

“All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.”

“I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.”

“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”

“What did I tell you about calling her/him the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?”

“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”

“I need therapy after this.”

“You didn’t get in trouble for lying. You got in trouble for lying badly.”

“I’m not weird. I am limited edition.”

“I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.”

“I think you’re weird.” “I think you’re boring.”

“If history repeats itself, I am so getting a dinosaur.”

“You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.”

“I’d explain it to you, but you’re brain would explode.”

“Wow, there’s a big surprise. I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from surprise.”

“I’m gonna hit you so hard, it’ll make you ancestors dizzy.”

“Even when we were kids, I always kicked your ass!”

“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.”

“You’re good. A monster pain in the ass… but you’re good.”

“Well, excuse me, psychic wonder!”

“The female of the species is more deadly than the male.”

“Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.”

“She’s hot, but she’s evil.”

“Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.”

“I already know that I’m going to hell. At this point it’s really go big or go home.”

“Go on, knock his teeth down his throat.”

“You’re going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers and people who talk at the theater.”

“What’s the point in screaming? No one’s listening anyway.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”

“So stick that in your juice box and suck it.”

“Never take life seriously. No one ever comes out alive anyway.”

“This place hold a lot of memories for me. Some bad, some… No. No, no, all bad.”

“A little gasoline… blowtorch… no problem.”

“Good, bad, I’m the one with the gun.”

“I know you can’t kill anybody, ‘cause I can’t kill anybody.”

“You’re insane, but you might also be brilliant.”

“What you call insanity, I call inspiration.”

“Sometimes I question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.”

“Why should we date?” “Because we are attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie.”

“Why does everyone assume the worst of me.” “It saves time.”

“I like you. You’re different.”

“You successfully cured him/her of anything interesting about his/her personality.”

“Neither one us is drunk enough for this conversation.”

“You’re questioning my methods.” “I’m not questioning it, I’m saying it’s stupid.”

“Wow, somebody needs a Happy Meal.”

“I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.”

“Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.”

“I care so little, I almost passed out.”

“Well behaved woman rarely make history.”

“You’re so weird.” “You have no idea.”

“The universe may not always play fair, but at least it’s got a hell of a sense of humor.”

“You haven’t even seen my bad side yet.”

“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

“How’s life treating you?” “Like I ran over it’s dog.”

“Rule number one: don’t bother sucking up. I already hate you, that’s not going to change.”

“Oh God, we’re not gonna have to hug or anything, are we.”

“I’m so glad you could come.” “Cut the crap. Give me a drink.”

“You make no sense to me.” “Welcome to my life.”

“Have fun being deal.” “I will.”

“Damn, you’re strong for a little thing.”

“It’s called thinking. Go with it.”

“I made a new friend today.” “Real or imaginary?” “Imaginary.”

“Where have you been all my life?” “Hiding from you.”

“I’m getting real bored and impatient. I don’t do bored and impatient.”

“The girl is strange no question.”

“Do us a favor… I know it’s difficult for you… but please, stay here, and try no to do anything… stupid.”

“I know most people don’t like me; I don’t care, I don’t like most people.”

“You are a very strange person.” “Well, thanks for noticing.”

“I can tell that you think what you’re saying is funny, but… no.”

“I didn’t steal it. I permanently borrowed it.”

“I’m not shy. I’m just examining my prey.”

“If you pull out my earphones, I will pull out your lungs.”

“I don’t dislike you, I nothing you.”

“Are you crying? No, I’m impersonating a fountain.”

“Ah, he’s playing hard-to-get. That’s cute.”

“You’re kinda anti-social, you know that?”

“I feel like a freakin’ soccer mom.”

“My advice is much more subtle. Stop being an ass.”

“I’m just gonna pack up and go straight to hell now.”

“My ex? Yeah, I’d still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or baseball bat.”

“She’s complicated like the DaVinci code, you know but harder to crack.”

“And just like everything else we do around here, it’s about to get weirder.”

“Such big evil in such a little thing.”

“Why do I still like you, knowing you’re a total asshole?”

“What does not kill you will likely try again.”

“Oh honey, I would but… I don’t want to.”

“And hello to you too… little homewrecker.”

“I’m gonna make you wish you were dead.”

“I don’t need anger management. I need people to stop pissing me off.”

“What doesn’t kill me might make me kill you.”

“In another life, I think I was in a mental institution.”

“I’m not crazy. I’m just interesting.”

“Don’t make me pop your ten grand sand bags honey.”

“This is fun.” “Seriously, we’re trying to hide a body.”

“You have something in your hair - let me get it for you.”

“Hm? Oh, sorry. I couldn’t help but stare at you.”

“Um, would it be okay if I held your hand?”

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

“You’re the most important person in my life.”

“Are you tired? Here, I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

“I’m not much of a chef, but… I really hope you like this.”

“Sorry for calling so late - I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“I need you more than you need me.”

“I want to kiss you and hold your hand any time I want.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you… I can’t.”

“The truth is… I love you.”

“You like me more than you like them, right? Right?”

“Be mine. Please.”

“I am who I am because of you.”

“It’s been a long day… let’s take a bath together.”

“Wait, don’t pull away - I want to hug you for awhile longer.”“Ah- I adore your laugh.”

“Stop that, it tickles!”

“Ouch, I bit my lip… kiss it better?”

“I don’t want to get up… I’m so warm beside you.”

“You’re so intoxicating to me.”

“Your eyes are amazing… do you know that?”

“You’re just so wonderful.”“S-Stop looking at me like that! You’re making me blush…”

“Are you tired? Rest in your head in my lap.”

“You, Me, Order In, Netflix… waddya say?”

“I want to be more than just friends with you.”

“Fuck it - do you wanna get married?”

“Your smile is beyond gorgeous… please, keep doing it.”

“Whenever we’re together, I feel at home.”

“Will you say you love me? Pleeease?”

“Wait, don’t go! Can’t you stay the night?”

“Wow - you look… amazing.”

“*Puts hands over eyes from behind* Guess whooo?”

“I’m not jealous! It’s just… you’re mine!”

“I want to go on a date! I demand it!”

“We just met, this is crazy, I’m referencing a song… but call me maybe?”

“What? No! I wasn’t staring… I-I was looking at something behind you!”

“Do you want some? Here, open your mouth… I’ll feed you some!”

“It’s been a long day… here, let me give you a massage.”

“Is it alright if I call you princess?”

“It’s not like I like you or anything! … Okay, well- maybe I do.”

“I think your perfect. Even with your flaws, you’re nothing but perfect.

NO NSFW!

32 notes · View notes

blackberrywidow · 6 years

Text

Undercover, In Over Your Head

Summary: Spy AU. After months of being undercover as Bucky’s wife, it’s time to finally finish your mission. The stakes are high with both of your lives on the line, but somehow the only thing you’re worried about is giving up your life as Mrs. Jones. Getting out of this alive is one thing, but getting out of it with your heart still intact is another.

Warnings: Nothing too bad. Language. Some mildly steamy action.

Word Count: 6.8k

Prompt: “Kiss me. Quickly!”

A/N: I’m doubling this up as a request from the lovely @everythingbooknerd and my submission for @peekaboo-parker and @onlytomholland-archive‘s writing challenge since the theme and timing worked really well together. I hope it doesn’t suck as much as I’m afraid it does. This took me entirely too long to write.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sandy asked, sipping on her long island iced tea like it was lemonade and giving your “husband” a look that made your blood simmer.

“College,” came your rehearsed answer accompanied by an even more rehearsed smile. You leaned in conspiratorially, licking your lips as your eyes locked on Bucky’s smiling face, and whispered, “We had chemistry together.”

“Oh yeah,” Sandy chortled, giving Bucky one last appreciative glance before giving you an I wish I was youlook. “I bet you did.”

Bucky glanced over at you then, catching your eye and smirking at you when he saw the slight tilt of your head and widening of your eyes that served as your pre-determined indicator that you wanted an out. He excused himself from whatever boring conversation he was currently sitting through with Mark, the engineer from across the street, and made his way over to you, all swagger and handsome smile.

“Mrs. Kavinsky,” he greeted, inclining his head at Sandy. She giggled obnoxiously, though you honestly couldn’t blame her. He had that effect on everybody—especially you, though you were loath to admit it. “Do you mind if I borrow my wife for a moment?”

“Of course.” Sandy shot you a coy smile and a wink before sauntering off to find her husband—he had disappeared from the party ages ago, and if you had to guess he was currently attempting to discretely sneak a cigarette in your upstairs bathroom despite his promises to his wife that he had quit months ago. You could smell the smoke from the back yard, and from experience knew that Mr. Kavinsky would return with an easier smile and steadier hands.

“You’d think you would be better at that.”

Your eyes snapped up to Bucky’s, taking in his small smile and the piercing blue of his stare. “At what?”

“At keeping a poker face. I can practically see the gears turning in your head. Which of our neighbors are you plotting against now?”

“Not plotting,” you corrected, your lips involuntarily tugging up at the corner. “Just observing. And I think that maybe you ‘seeing my gears’ has less to do with my shitty poker face and more to do with the years of experience you have, honey.”

Bucky smirked, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer as you watched your guests mingle in silence. It was domestic. The perfect picket-fence life.

You could almost believe it was real, this perfect life of yours. A happy marriage to James Jones that spanned years. A lifetime of happiness to look forward to in suburbia.

In reality, you had been “married” to James for 256 days. Though Agent James Buchanan Barnes preferred Bucky when you weren’t undercover.

“I think I am finally figuring you out, Mrs. Jones,” he finally replied, taking a long pull from the beer bottle in his hand.

“What a relief,” you snorted, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Now all you have to do is figure out who’s selling missiles to Hydra and we’re golden.”

---

“So… Marianne seems like a possibility,” you mused, taping a pen to your lips as you watched over the security tapes later that night.

“No,” Bucky responded immediately from where was reclined on the couch, tossing a ball against the ceiling before catching it seconds before it hit the ground, again and again. You wanted to be annoyed by his apparent lack of attention, but you knew by now that he was aware of everything you were saying and everything taking place on the screens. Besides, the rhythmic thumpand smack that rang through the small room with each pass of the ball was soothing in a strange way.

“She’s been having late night meetings with odd men in their cars for the past week,” you say in exasperation. “How can you be so sure she isn’t?”

“She’s selling pot.”

You whipped your head around, raising a brow as he smiled at you. “And how do you know this?”

Bucky shrugged, looking away from you and resuming his game of one-man-catch. “We talk.”

“Right,” you scoffed, turning your attention back to the tv screens and gritting your teeth as heat rose to your cheeks. “I suppose that explains why Sandy wanted to ‘kindly inform me’ that you two had been spending some time together while I’m at work. You know the whole point of this operation is to pass ourselves off as a normal married couple, right? If you keep doing this shit, it’ll raise suspicion.”

“Oh please,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. “They would be more suspicious if I wasn’t seeing women behind your back. No one trusts a perfect marriage these days, (Y/N). You don’t have to be a highly trained intelligence operative to know that.”

“No,” you huffed, fiddling with the pen as you steadfastly avoided the gaze that you knew was now trained on your face. “But I suppose being a man helps.”

“Well one of us has to do something to speed this up. We’ve been here for almost a year, (Y/N). Fury wants answers and I want out of this suburban shithole. So I’m sorry if I don’t particularly care about how that makes our fakemarriage look to our fake neighbors.”

You waited patiently through Bucky’s rant, noting the way the way the rhythmic thump-smack sped up in time with your heart rate. You hid your hurt though, the way you always did—with a blank expression and watchful eyes. The way spies like you were trained to hide everything they felt. You tried not to take it personally anyway—Bucky didn’t hate you. He hated long missions with little to no action. He missed Steve. He probably missed not being “married.”

At least, that’s what you told yourself. For all that Bucky showed, he may very well hate you or hold you responsible for the length of your mission. It was always hard to tell with spies. It’s why you had a very strict rule against dating them—there isn’t room for two liars in a relationship.

But Bucky Barnes was certainly enticing enough to tempt you. That is, if he ever pulled the stick out of his ass.

“Are you done?” You finally asked after ten full seconds of silence, giving Bucky enough time to cool down and you enough time to stop imagining what it would be like being married to him for real.

“Yeah,” he sighed, sitting up and hanging his head as the ball made one final thump against the ceiling and fell to the ground, forgotten. “Sorry. I know this isn’t exactly a cakewalk for you either. It’s just… if I have to hear about how fantastic Nancy Mitchell’s fucking casserole is one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

A surprised laugh burst out of you, breaking through your mask and forcing a smile on your face. “You know what her secret ingredient is, don’t you?” you teased, smile widening when Bucky’s expression only saddened.

“I really, really don’t care.”

“No? Well, that’s too bad. I was going to recommend that you warn your friend Marianne that she has competition. She’s smuggles coke in it—hands it off to all the exhausted moms in her spin class as an innocent ‘gift’ and gets paid with Target gift cards in the mail. The woman has a shopping problem, to say the least.”

“Cocaine?” Bucky asked, suddenly perking up—a reaction that had you laughing so hard you doubled over. “I can’t believe your story is better than mine! How did you find out?”

“I run the surveillance, remember?” You shook your head, forcing your outburst to subside enough to give him a decent answer. “I looked into it three weeks ago—I thought it was weird that she did so much online shopping and paid for it all in gift cards. Especially since she has everything delivered to her office and sneaks it all inside when her husband isn’t home. But no illegal arms dealing—just a normal wife playing drug dealer to fund her shopping addiction.”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head before standing to watch over the cameras next to you. “Is that what we consider normal now?”

You shrug, eyes trained on the cameras once more as Mr. Kavinsky exited his home. A little unusual at 10 o’clock at night on a Thursday, but nothing worth your concern yet. “Normal is relative, Bucky. Our normal is full of the kind of evil that would make these people terrified to leave their homes. But they’re just as fucked up as we are, in a way. They create their own monsters and can’t see past their front lawn as far as others’ welfare is concerned. That’s normal here. People throw away their chance at a simple, happy life for a few bucks and the thrill of being ‘bad’ when they don’t actually know the meaning of the word.”

You saw Bucky look at you out of the corner of your eye, his expression carefully neutral. “That seems like a pretty harsh assessment. “

“This coming from the guy who just told me that I shouldn’t care that people think my husband is cheating on me.”

“That is compl—”

“Hey,” you cut him off as you furrowed your brows and whipped your pen up to point at one of the TV screens. “That look suspicious to you?”

Bucky reluctantly tore his eyes away from you and scoffed. “You’re the tech expert. You tell me…” you watched as he trailed off, his whole demeanor shifting when he caught sight of Mr. Kavinsky waiting for a town car only to have a man spring out to throw a bag over his head and pull him into the backseat of the car before it sped off.

His shoulders straightened, his face fell back into an expressionless mask, and his blue eyes seemed to become hyper focused on the screen as he said, “Get your coat.”

You turned away to comply, smiling widely and suppressing the shiver that wanted to run down your spine. As much as you enjoyed playing the domesticated happy couple with Bucky, you loved it when he was like this. Like the highly trained special operative that he was. The one who could use that tone and get you to do anything he wanted.

It was a vulnerability—a dangerous one, considering your line of work.

You were glad, in a way, that Bucky didn’t reciprocate your feelings. Love was a luxury you couldn’t afford in your world of assassins and espionage. The closest you would ever get was being Mrs. James Jones.

You were almost sad that that this may have to be the night you had to give her up for good.

---

“Oh, this is definitely it.”

Bucky’s excitement was palpable, and you tried not to let it disappoint you.

“I think you’re right,” you whispered, taking one last peek through the binoculars. They had hauled Ray Kavinksy out of the vehicle and he was now nervously pacing in the penthouse of a hotel across the street. “We should call Hill and report this.”

“Wait.” Bucky grabbed your wrist, halting you in your attempt to go back to the car and retrieve your cell phone. “Look. It’s him.”

“Who?” you huff, turning back around to snatch the binoculars out of Bucky’s hands. And almost immediately dropped them.

It was Alexander Pierce.

“No,” you said at the same time Bucky said “I’m going in.”

“This is huge, (Y/N),” Bucky whisper-shouted at you, as though you weren’t already aware. “He runs the entire American division of Hydra—we take him down, we take them all down.”

“You’re right, Bucky. Which is exactly why we should at least try to contact Hill—let her know what’s going on so she can give us our orders.”

“We already have our orders. This doesn’t change that.” Bucky’s tone left no room for argument. He stood up from where he had been crouching near the edge of the parking garage you currently occupied and started walking toward the car.

You followed, hot on his heels. “Our orders are to observe and gather and intel. Not attack a high-ranking Hydra operative. We need to call this one in, Bucky. You know that.”

“And while we’re jumping through SHIELD’s hoops, what if he gets away? Or worse: what if we do call this in to Hill and she tells us to leave it? You know Pierce and Fury have history. If we give them the chance to say no, we’ll regret it, (Y/N). Please, just… let me do this.”

You sucked on your bottom lip, arms crossed as you took in his pleading eyes and determined tone. You knew that Bucky and Pierce had history too—a mission gone south several years ago that had ended in days of torture at Pierce’s hands that had nearly claimed Bucky’s left arm before Steve and his team had found him.

The right thing to do would be to call Deputy Director Hill and let her make the call. But looking at your partner now, you knew you couldn’t do that to him.

“Two conditions,” you finally said, to which Bucky immediately scoffed and shook his head. “I’m serious, Bucky. If we do this, we aren’t going after Pierce—at least not directly,” you hastily corrected when Bucky started to protest.

“Okay, I’m listening,” he conceded, leaning back against the car and looking at you in careful contemplation.

“Alright. So, condition one: you’re not assassinating Pierce. You know as well as I do that isn’t going to fly. We stick to our mission—observe, gather intel, and report it. If we happen to get enough evidence to take down Pierce along with Kavinsky and his buyer? Just icing on the cake. Icing that won’t end up biting us in the ass if Fury decides that killing a Hydra official on an intelligence mission was the wrong call.”

He hesitated a long moment, biting his lip as he considered your proposal. His dark blue eyes bored in to yours, and you held your breath and prayed that he would see reason, knowing you couldn’t stop him if he didn’t. Knowing it could get him killed at worst and expelled from SHIELD at best.

“Fine,” he finally conceded, making you sigh in relief. “We’ll do it your way. What’s the second condition?”

“Oh, I thought the second condition would be obvious.” You breezed past where he was leaning against the tan SUV SHIELD had given you—the one Bucky referred to as a “mom car”—and opened up the hatch to begin rifling through your stash of hidden weapons. “I’m going in with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky growled, grabbing your arm and whipping you around to face him. You reeled back against the car in surprise, but he pressed forward, touching every inch of his chest against yours as he got in your face. He pressed his lips against your ear, causing an involuntary shiver to rack your body as he whispered, “You’re going to stay here and run surveillance from a distance. You’re a non-combatant—that’s your job. You are not going to get within ten feet of Alexander Pierce, understand?”

“No. Way,” you hissed between clenched teeth, planting your hands on his chest and managing to push him back just enough to look him in the eyes. “We’re in this together, honey, and what kind of fake wife would I be if I let you run off and blow this entire operation on your own? I’m going with you, and we’re both going to stay clear of Pierce. Do you understand me, Barnes?”

Bucky shook his head and took a step back from you, but if you didn’t know better, you would have thought a small smile was tugging at his lips. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, (Y/N). This is bigger than some weapons dealer now. Pierce is involved, and he’s… Alexander Pierce is a dangerous man, Doll—if he or his men get ahold of you, I…”

He seemed to become lost in thought, eyes going distant as he trailed off. You stepped forward, placing your hands against his cheeks and turning his head back to face you. His blue eyes locked on yours, wide and haunted, and you knew that he was reliving every second he spent under Pierce’s knife. It made you want to go in there and kill him yourself, but it was even more of a reminder of why you couldn’t.

“That’s why we’re doing this together, Bucky. We won’t make contact with Pierce, and we’ll have each other’s backs. Then we’ll take everything we find to SHIELD, and we’ll take Pierce and the entire American-sector of Hydra down. It’s the smart play. You know that.”

Bucky stared back for a long second, not saying anything as he simply allowed you to hold onto him before finally bowing his head and sighing, giving you a single nod. “Okay. Minimum weapons then, and we’ll need to find a way to get close to him without raising suspicion.”

“I’m already ahead of you.” You smirked and turned your back on him, bending down to continue going through the weapons you would need just in case things didn’t go according to plan.

“Here,” Bucky reached over you to grab something, making you roll your eyes. He was perfectly capable of moving around you to get what he wanted. He was such a tease. However, all thoughts of teasing Bucky slammed to a halt when he handed you the knife you had been looking for. “This is the one you always use, right?”

You nodded mutely, taking your lucky knife that had been your trusty companion since you first joined SHIELD, and lifted your knee-length black cocktail dress you hadn’t bothered changing out of enough to slide it into the holster on your thigh. Your eyes were still trained on the knife, so you didn’t see Bucky reach for you, causing you to jolt when his knuckles grazed your cheek.

Your eyes snapped back up to his, letting him brush a strand of wayward hair behind your ear. He was staring at you again, in the way that made your heart seize in your chest and reminded you that out of all the missions you had been on, this one was somehow always different. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

You wanted to ask, but he seemed to gather himself and dropped his hand before you could. “Be safe,” was the only thing he offered you.

You tried not to dwell on it too much as you climbed into the passenger seat so Bucky could drive you across the street to the hotel. This was it—either your last night as Mr. and Mrs. Jones or your last night alive. You needed to be completely focused if you wanted to survive such a close encounter with Hydra.

---

“How’d you manage to get this?” Bucky asked, looking around the hotel room you had procured for yourselves for the night.

“I asked nicely,” you replied, smiling coyly at him from over your shoulder as you set up the surveillance equipment.

The room was directly underneath the penthouse Pierce had commandeered. It was the best possible place for you to gather intelligence without raising suspicion—you had booked the hotel under your covers’ names and were keeping a distance. No one would recognize you, other than Mr. Kavinsky, but Pierce and a good number of his men had seen Bucky before. If the wrong person got a glimpse of him, it was all over.

“So, here’s the plan: we’re doing audio from down here. I’ve got it all set up already. Then we wait for them to move and go upstairs and go through his shit. Easy peasey.”

Bucky’s lips twitched as he watched you bounce around the room, quietly setting up all of the necessary equipment you had hidden in your luggage. “You know that things usually don’t go that well, right?”

“I do, but I’m optimistic. So, everything is going to go well and neither of us is going to get caught or killed, got it?”

“Got it boss,” Bucky replied with a lazy salute and an even lazier grin.

The next several hours were incredibly boring, as most stake-outs tended to be. You and Bucky sat quietly, attentively listening to the feed coming from the floor above, making notes of anything you thought was of particular importance or just screwing around while you waited for them to finally stop drilling poor Mr. Kavinsky about the weapons he was smuggling in under his company’s name.

“It’s been three hours,” you sighed, slumping against the side of Bucky’s chair from where you sat on the floor. “It’s almost two in the morning. How long is this going to last? Don’t these people sleep?”

“Didn’t you know? ‘Ain’t no rest for the wicked,” Bucky chuckled, knocking his knee against your side, causing you to swat at him in annoyance.

“Now I know it’s too late for us to be up. You’re making lame jokes.”

“Hey,” Bucky protested, only sounding half as offended as he intended. “None of my jokes are lame.”

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, but I distinctly remember hearing you tell a knock, knock joke at the Millers’ barbeque last week.”

“Yeah, a funny knock, knock joke.”

“There is no such thing as a funny knock, knock joke, Bucky.”

“That’s discrimination.”

“Discrimination?” you snorted, dropping your head against his knee and allowing your eyes to drift shut. “I think the lack of sl—”

“Hey,” he cut you off, leaning forward so suddenly you fell forward and hit the carpet face-down. “They’re moving.”

And suddenly you were awake, your eyes springing open as you scrambled to get up and gather what you would need to properly search the penthouse for evidence against Pierce.

“Are you ready for this?” Bucky asked, giving you one last once-over as you met him by the door. “No going back now.”

“There never was, Bucky.” You gave him a small smile, willing some confidence into your appearance. “Pierce and his men are dangerous, but we’ll never even come into contact with them. That’s what makes espionage so fun. Not getting caught.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening the door and allowing you to step out first. “Right.”

You walked to the elevator, deciding that using it to go up one floor would be less conspicuous than taking the stairs.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, eyes narrowing on the spot designated for the keycard required to get you to the penthouse. “We need—”

“I’ve already got it,” you sang with a smirk, fishing the card out of your bra (not having pockets in your dresses was a crime, really). “I swiped it from the front desk on our way up.”

“I love you,” Bucky said, shaking his head and grinning at you, making your stomach swoop. It was a phrase that you had gotten used to over the past nine months, said with laughter or soft looks, but always in the presence of an audience. Always for the sake of the mission. Never like this, in close quarters when it was just the two of you and with something like admiration in his eyes. You tried not to read too much into it, but God did you want to.

“You’ll love me even more when we pull this off, Barnes. So get ready.”

You scanned the card, and the elevator jolted as it took you up to the next floor. Bucky took a step back, facing the door and placing a hand near the inside pocket of his jacket, ready to pull his gun out if the situation called for it. According to your surveillance, the room should be cleared now that Pierce moved the meeting down to the basement of the hotel where Kavinsky had moved the weapons. But you could never be too careful.

Bucky stepped out first, drawing his gun and making a sweep of the room while you followed behind him in suit. “Clear.”

Bucky kept his gun raised and ready while you raced across the room and got started. This was what you were best at: gathering intel that you could use to bring empires to their knees. You could fight, sure, but the real spy work was where you thrived.

You found the laptop situated in the corner of the room and your fingers flew across the keyboard as soon as you sat down, hacking into their system with an ease that came with natural talent and years of practice.

“Beautiful,” you breathed, pulling out the flash drive you had hidden in your bra and plugging it in, eyes scanning the screen relentlessly.

“I take it that’s good?” Bucky asked, not looking away from the elevator door.

“It’s better than good,” you replied, fingers once more clacking against the keyboard as you sifted through the information it held. “Pierce’s name is all over this stuff—bank statements, hit orders, weapons sales, you name it. Not to mention the names of at least thirty U.S. government officials in connection with him. It’s a pretty secure system, one that is nearly impossible to get into unless you’re working directly on this drive. It must be Pierce’s personal computer. It’s got everything you would need to take him down.”

“And now we have it,” Bucky replied, glancing back at you with a warm smile.

“Yup,” you said, popping the ‘p.’ “See? I told you this was the way to go. This will publicly out Pierce and destroy everything he’s ever built. Better than just killing the guy. It’s almost surprising that—oh shit.”

“What?” Bucky asked, immediately abandoning his post to go to your side.

You were frantically typing now, eyes focused on the screen as you tried to fix what you had just done. “A security system,” you replied after a moment through gritted teeth. “It’s already alerted him, and someone from the outside is trying to kick me out. I’m so sorry Bucky—I didn’t see it before it was too late.”

“But you can fix it, right? You can finish the download?”

“Maybe,” you said, still typing furiously, eyes trained on the screen. “But they’re probably already on their way up. If we don’t go now—”

“They’ll find us,” Bucky affirmed, nodding and taking a step back. “Fine. I always liked this plan better anyway.”

“Bucky, no. I don’t have time to argue with you about this right now, but we are not attacking Pierce.”

“Doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice, Doll.” Bucky was moving back to the elevator, taking a position to the side that would provide him cover and a clear shot.

You took a deep breath, not pausing in your typing, determined to find a way to get the information andsurvive.

After what felt like years but was in reality only a few moments, you managed to break through their defenses again and finish the download without really even knowing how you did it—your mind was only focused on getting out of this alive with Bucky by your side.

You shot back from the computer once it reached 100%, snatching the flash drive up with a loud whoop.

“What?!” Bucky called from across the room, not looking away from where he had his gun trained on the elevator and the quickly rising number that promised your death when it reached your floor.

“We gotta go,” you whispered, grabbing his arm and pulling him up with you as you ran for the door that led to the stairwell.

“But we can’t go without the drive,” Bucky said, pulling against your hold and looking at the elevator with frantic, murderous eyes.

“I’ve got it, Bucky. We can go,” you huffed, desperately tugging on his arm.

“But I thought you said—”

“I’ve got it Bucky. Please, we have to go now.”

“Pierce is coming,” Bucky said, eyes distant as he stared in the direction of the elevator. “I could end him right here. Right now.”

“Bucky, you can’t. There are too many of them to take on your own, you know that. Please, just come with me. We’ll take him down, I promise. Just come on,” you plead, holding out a hand to him in desperation.

“Take the flash drive (Y/N). Report back to Hill. I’m not letting him get away again.”

Bucky was focused on the door as the numbers slowed the closer they got to you, gun raised and ready to fire at Pierce the second he laid eyes on him. You knew it would be the last thing he did. You suspected that Bucky knew that too.

“Fine,” you said, resigned as you stuffed the flash drive back in the bodice of your dress and withdrew the gun from your thigh holster. You preferred your knife, but a fight like this called for something with a little more range. “Then we’ll stay.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky snapped, looking back at you with wild eyes. “I said get out of here!”

“We’re in this together, Bucky,” you reminded him, shaking your head with a sad smile. “’Till death do us part, yeah?”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, taking in your determination and the fire in your eyes as you offered up your life to his need for vengeance, and he seemed to come to some sort of decision.

“Fuck it,” he growled, lowering his gun and taking a large step towards you. “I told you he’s not gettin’ within ten feet of you, remember?”

He snatched up your hand and you bolted for the stairwell at the same moment the elevator dinged.

You let the door slam behind you as you raced down the single flight of stairs, Bucky fishing out his key and swiping it to give you access to your floor once you reached the door. You couldn’t believe that it was that easy after all—you had gotten the information you needed and talked Bucky out of getting himself killed just to get a shot at Pierce. All you had to do was make it to your room and hide out until Hydra cleared the hotel. You were almost in the clear.

Then you heard the thunder of footsteps pounding down the stairs, dozens of men on their way to find you.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, hearing their footsteps beat closer and closer with as your heart thudded against your rib cage in tandem. “They’re coming down the stairwell now. They’re probably searching every floor.”

“Yeah, I hear them. Come on,” Bucky pleaded, tugging on your hand and increasing his pace, trying to get you to your room. “It’s just down here.”

“No time,” you hissed when you heard the door to your floor open. You spun yourself in front of him, grabbing him by the collar of his white button up. “Kiss me. Quickly!”

Bucky wasted no time in complying. He dropped his hand to your waist, grabbing you roughly and pulling you forward into a searing kiss. You went willingly, pressing one hand against his chest to hide your gun and keep it ready to fire while the other twisted in his hair.

He grunted into your mouth, dropping a hand to your thigh and yanking it up, prompting you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. He slid his hand under you skirt, keeping the gun he still held hidden in the folds of your dress as he pressed you against the wall. After leaving you suitably breathless, he moved his lips down to your neck to nip at the sensitive skin there. You gasped, bucking your hips against him involuntarily, eyes fluttering open just enough to catch the eye of one of Pierce’s men further down the hall.

They were clearing the hall, looking for any suspects, but they were all trying very hard to keep their eyes off of the two of you. Your friend and fellow agent Natasha was right—public displays of affection made people uncomfortable. Well usually, with the man staring at you in open disgust apparently being an exception.

“Get a room,” he sneered, shaking his head and whispering something to his men that prompted them to head back to the stairwell.

“We’re working on it,” you giggled breathlessly while Bucky held up his left hand to wave your key at the Hydra agent, not lifting his head up from where it was still buried in your neck.

The man snorted, rolling his eyes but not saying another word as he followed his men back to the stairwell, apparently not finding anything suspicious about a young married couple getting it on in the hallway.

“He’s gone,” you whispered in Bucky’s ear once you were sure the door was firmly closed behind them, and he dropped you gently back to the ground, hands still on your waist.

“You good?” he asked, smoothing your mused hair back and looking you over with searching eyes.

“Do I look good?” you teased, biting your lip and smiling at him before snatching the keycard out of his hand and moving the last few feet down the hall to your door.

“You always look good, (Y/N),” he breathed in your ear, making you jump. You hadn’t realized he had followed so closely behind you, his steps always so silent. “But yeah, you look reallygood right now.”

You turned to face him as you stepped back in the room. His eyes were heated as he drank the sight of you in, and you told yourself that it was the adrenaline or the thrill of finally getting enough evidence to put Pierce away for good. But you really hoped it wasn’t.

“We need to report this,” you finally said after a long moment, clearing your throat. “Before any of those goons find us.”

Bucky hesitated, but nodded and moved further into the room to grab his phone. “I’ll call Hill. You pack up. We’re out of here the second we get a clear exit.”

“Yes sir.” You smirked at him as you passed by on your way to take down your surveillance equipment, ignoring the thrill that shot through you at his words.

You had a job to do right now, which involved you staying out of Hydra’s way and alive while they tore the hotel apart looking for you. You would have time to consider you feelings for Bucky and the fact that by the end of the day your pretend life as a married couple would be over later. Hopefully one that involved ice cream and sad music that made you feel less shitty about your life.

---

“Excellent job, agents,” Hill congratulated you much later that day, actually smiling for once. “You’re done for the day. We’ll call you when we have your next assignment.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you and Bucky chorused, turning to leave the room and the final nail in Pierce’s coffin behind.

You were back at SHIELD headquarters in D.C., almost twelve hours after you got out of Pierce’s penthouse alive. Mr. and Mrs. Jones had officially moved out of their home on Crestwood Drive and Agents Barnes and (Y/L/N) were back to their normal lives. Well, as normal as your lives could be.

“Last night was fun, huh?” Bucky asked, shadowing you as you made your way to the elevator that would take you one step closer to your bed.

“You mean the part where we almost but didn’t quite die? Or the long hours of listening to Pierce talk about shit I don’t care about?” you asked, sarcasm coloring your tone almost as much as your exhaustion did.

“Nah,” Bucky said, catching the elevator door, keeping it open as people streamed out of it past you. “I was talking about the part where Mr. and Mrs. Jones ruined some Hydra agent’s virgin eyes in a public hallway.”

You grinned, looking at him over your shoulder as you stepped onto the elevator. “It was. I was beginning to worry that Mr. and Mrs. Jones were never going to come to their senses, but it’s nice to see that a high stress situation can always be trusted to bring a loveless marriage back together.”

Bucky returned your smile but didn’t say anything for a long moment as the doors slid closed behind you and you made the long descent down.

“You know, I was kind of getting used to it.”

“To what?” you asked, rolling your head to the side to gaze up at Bucky from where he was leaning against the wall next to you.

“The married life,” Bucky answered nonchalantly, arms crossed as he stared straight ahead. “At least, with you. And I meant that before I stuck my tongue down your throat, but now I reallymean it.”

You laughed, shaking your head and fighting the blush that rose to your cheeks. “The picket-fence life isn’t for us Bucky. It’s not our normal, you know that.”

“Yeah, but I think it could be. We choose our normal, right? I think that if I had a choice, I’d want my normal to be you.”

He finally glanced up and caught your gaze, and you could do nothing but stare at him in shock for a long moment. Your throat was dry, and you could feel pressure building behind your eyes, and you wanted to blame your emotional reaction on your lack of sleep, but you had a feeling that this was the only possible reaction to Bucky fucking Barnes telling you that he wanted you to be his normal. Which was kind of lame but incredibly sweet at the same time, in the way only he could be.

“So, what?” you say, unsure of how you should react to him saying everything you wanted and everything you feared in the same breath. “You’re saying that you want that? To leave SHIELD behind and pick up where we left off in suburbia?”

Bucky shrugged, holding your gaze as his lips quirked up in a small smile, the most genuine you had ever seen on him. “I don’t know. Probably not. But I do think that we could find something that works. We can have the picket-fence andthe late-night stakeouts. As long as you’re with me—that’s what I want.”

You laughed lightly in disbelief, shaking your head. “When did you decide this? We’ve been ‘married’ for almost nine months and this is the first I’m hearing about it.”

“I used to think there was nothing I would choose over taking out Pierce after what he did to me. But last night I found out I was wrong.” Bucky shrugged, looking as casual as ever. As though he wasn’t shattering your reality with a few words and the hope they planted in your chest. “Nothing else seems important after that, y’know?”

You nodded, because you did know. You knew a long time ago that you had been falling in love with Bucky Barnes, that it wasn’t just an act and it wasn’t just the mission. You had made a decision too last night—to stand by Bucky and face death rather than leave him to face it alone. He was right. Why waste any more time pretending?

Love was vulnerability, but it wasn’t one you could choose. Bucky Barnes made you vulnerable the second he stepped in your life. It might end with one or both of you dead or heartbroken, but you may as well enjoy the ride while it lasted.

“Okay,” you sighed, leaning your head back against the wall and smiling. “But first, sleep.”

“Seriously?” Bucky asked, a surprised chuckle leaving him in a huff. “I just confess my undying love to you and all you can think about is sleep?”

You crack your eyes open just enough to look at him. “You can join me.”

“Deal,” Bucky said, grabbing your arm and hauling you off the wall as the elevator door opened. “Sleep, and then can figure our shit out.”

“Sounds good,” you mumbled against his shoulder as he lead you out of the SHIELD facility. And it did. Figuring out the rest of your life with Bucky by your side sounded better than good. It sounded like your new normal.

Tagslist: @everythingbooknerd, @desir-ae

#marvel fanfiction #mcu fan fic #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x OC #Spy AU #lenivicwc #my writing

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multixminds · 3 years

Note

♒ When it comes to attraction to women, are you a leg man, a breast man, or an ass man?

NSFD (not safe for dinos) / SEXUAL SUNDAY QUESTIONS

Drake cleared his throat and gently rubbed down the back of his neck at the question. Ikkaku was a horrible woman for putting him through this!! She was not, in fact, horrible, but she'd know what he meant if he told her that to her face.

She was also a woman!! How could he admit that infront of her??

"Well, I..." For a moment, the ginger appeared quite indecisive. He didn't want to reveal this, but he had to!! He had to!! "From those three choices, I personally believe that ... the ... bottom ... is the best."

#ikkakuofheart #drake vc: IKKAKU PLEASE #a careful response considering the rules; /ic prompt replies

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nikkxb · 6 years

Text

Foolish

Yu Yu Hakusho Pairing: Hiei/Botan Rating: Teen Summary: Hiei wakes up with a tiny red bow tied around his finger and he’s not having it. Written for the @auyeahaugust prompt, Soulmate. Author’s Note:

I’ve loved this fandom for over a decade, but this is my first time writing for it and I shamelessly love what I’ve written. It’s shorter than it probably should be and it’s a little disjointed and it could really use more time to establish everything. That said, for being a short drabble, I’m ecstatic. So when reading, just imagine a bit more fleshing out and you’ll be good. :)

(K, I wish I could find you so I could shove this in your face and scream about it.)

What on earth was that?

Holding up his hand, he examined the little string looped around his finger. Thin and soft, something probably from the human world considering the Makkai didn’t hold anything so soft. A neat bow sat at the base of his pinkie and one end flowed out down the trunk of the tree and through the grass.

Urameshi must be playing some type of trick. Or the idiot, though Hiei was certain he’d hear the fumbling oaf before he even neared the tree.

He flicked at the string. It didn’t move. Pulling it, yanking it, tugging at the bow did nothing and it seemed the more he messed with it, the brighter the red appeared.

Unacceptable.

With a glare, he called fire to light up the entirety of his hand and watched as the string burned, charred, and finally fell away.

Much better.

It reappeared that night.

A little thicker, a little darker, and instead of a bow, he recognized the knot keeping the string on his finger. A small, square knot, though it wouldn’t matter. Bow or knot, a string was a string and string gave way to fire. And if it didn’t, he could always turn it to ice and then watch it shatter.

Fire was easier. Besides, watching the thing curl in on itself before leaving his hand gave him a small satisfaction.

Two days later, Hiei hunted the streets for the damned punk who kept doing this to him.

It always appeared after a nap. Whether he slept in the trees, in the open field, or crashed in Youko’s apartment when he wasn’t home, the string returned. Over and over until now, the string glowed red in the shadows, was as thick as rope, hard as wire, and wouldn’t leave his hand. Burning it stopped working after the third time and freezing only twice after that.

If this continued, Hiei would have to resort to cutting the thing off.

He refused to utilize his sword for such a trivial mess.

So he stalked through the trees, following the trail Urameshi left with that pulsing spirit energy of his. He must have been on his way to Keiko’s, judging from the directness of his path and the quickness in his step. Urameshi never booked it anywhere unless she was alone.

Hiei found him on Keiko’s balcony. It was a nice apartment, he guessed. The complex quiet and the trees well tended. A place humans took pride in living in and it seemed Keiko did as well. Though how she could possibly deal with the loud mouth, he didn’t know. Seemed pride only went so far.

Landing next to the man, he watched in wry amusement as said man jumped. Then the yelling started. He could have done without this, but it was the best way to get the damned thing off his hand and keep it off.

“Quiet,” he finally snapped, cutting Urameshi off mid-sentence. Not that Hiei cared. Nothing he was saying was of any use. “Now tell me why you continue to waste my time with this nonsense.”

Yusuke said nothing. His brown eyes narrowed and the fight built behind his expression and Hiei braced himself for a good brawl that had been brewing for days, but then Yusuke’s gaze caught on the rope trailing over the railing and up the complex. Hiei watched in silence as that gaze went up and then back down, following the trail looped at his feet until he finally saw the bane of Hiei’s current existence.

When Urameshi’s jaw slackened in shock, Hiei felt a sudden unease that his reasonable suspicion had been wrong.

“Hiei…” Miracles really do happen — the idiot was speechless. “You…you—”

“What are you yelling about out here—” Keiko appeared behind the sliding glass door and stopped at the sight before her. “Oh, hello Hiei.”

He tilted his chin in acknowledgement and then turned back to the detective, waiting for that peanut of a brain to finally kick in and the never ceasing litany of words to return to their constant deluge of sludge.

“Are you staying— oh.”

When she went quiet with a sudden hitch of breath, Hiei wondered if his idea of seeking out Urameshi had been the wrong one.

“Hiei, do you know what that is?” she asked quietly.

“No and I don’t care. I want it gone.”

The idiot finally closed his mouth, but the look on his face wasn’t one Hiei wanted to deal with. He didn’t come here for some wretched conversation, he came here to get the red shackle off his hand and be done with this prank once and for all.

“When did it appear?” Keiko asked, drawing his attention back to her.

Hiei didn’t understand why she was so curious about the thing or what the soft tone in her voice meant. And he definitely didn’t want to be answering her probing questions, but he knew if he were rude, Urameshi would take offense and they would fight. Not that Hiei didn’t want the fight, but he wanted to be free of the string more.

Though if he answered, she might offer him some answers as well.

“Two days ago.”

“Late morning?” she pressed. “Just before noon?”

With narrowed eyes, he turned away from the detective and focused his whole attention on the girlfriend. How on earth would she know when this thing arrived?

“What do you know?”

Urameshi stepped in between, using his height to block Keiko from Hiei’s sight.

“Stand aside, detective. It’s only a few questions.”

“Yeah, and I don’t quite trust what you’re going to do when those questions are answered.”

“What,” Hiei repeated in a deadly quiet voice, “do you know?”

“We think,” came Keiko’s hesitant response from behind the wall of muscle, “we might know who that string is connected to.”

“Why would this string be connected to anyone but the person who dared put it on me?”

Something flickered on Urameshi’s face and Hiei tensed.

“Hiei,” he said without preamble, “that’s a red string of fate. It’s connected to your soulmate.”

His soulmate?

Impossible.

Him? Have a soulmate? One would have to have a soul first. And then, one would have to be worthy of a mate for that soul. Picking at the rope in disgust, Hiei looked out over the horizon.

It didn’t take him long to flee the apartment. With the gears churning in Keiko’s mind and Urameshi’s delighted gleam, Hiei booked it as fast as he could. No way was he getting stuck with something he did not want and judging from their claim of knowing who the string led to? That’s what they were about to do.

Soulmate. Bah. Utterly ridiculous. What a horrible prank for the gods to play. But if what they said was true, it explained why the nuisance kept returning no matter what he did to get rid of it. Didn’t explain why it appeared on him or why some being with too much time on their hands decided to play with his fate.

Hiei with a soulmate? The entire idea was laughable. What soul could possibly be a good match for him? Always wandering, always roaming, flitting between the two worlds and not belonging in either, never belonging anywhere except for that small stint in an army. But even commanding under Mukuro’s rule had been stifling. He needed freedom under his feet to go where he wanted and lay his head where he pleased.

What soul on earth was cursed to be stuck with him?

His mind conjured up the flash of blue paired with a delicate floral scent, but he shoved it aside. No use focusing on ridiculous notions.

A flicker of energy from the southeast pulled him from his thoughts and Hiei shifted. He wanted to run. No way did he want to look at that face as those eyes saw the string because surely, he would know what it meant. And he would ask. He would ask and he would talk and he would attempt to give the sage advice he so loved and Hiei wanted absolutely none of it.

But running would only bring a chase and if the fox flared his energy, then he was approaching with a purpose.

Settling back against the trunk, Hiei wondered what he could do to get this meeting over with.

Silence stretched between them long after Kurama stopped at the base of the tree. If he wasn’t going to initiate the conversation he wanted to have, then they would continue to sit in silence for all Hiei cared. He didn’t want the damned string to exist, let alone talk about it.

“Aren’t you even curious?” came that soft voice.

Hiei said nothing.

“I would be.” Something shifted on the grass and Hiei felt a vibration up the trunk. Kurama was apparently making himself comfortable. “These things don’t happen to everyone and they’re never wrong. I’d want to know immediately who the fates saw to be a perfect match for me.”

“Then take it and find them.” His gut clenched at the thought of that blue mixing with red.

“Ah, if only it were that simple.”

If only it weren’t him.

“Don’t you think they deserve to know who they’re tied to?”

“Nothing’s stopping them,” he bit out. “Anyone who can’t follow this string is far too stupid for my patience.”

The fox fell silent and Hiei resumed his glaring contemplation of the mistake on his finger.

“Have you considered that it could be a good match?” Kurama asked quietly, almost too low to hear. “That this soulmate of yours could offer peace in ways we haven’t known?”

Something in Hiei lurched at those words, something deep and strong and hidden. Something bright. His hands twisted and he shoved that back down. Hope was a dangerous emotion, deadly to all who fell for it. Allowing something to foolish to grow was a mistake he refused to make.

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped, gathering his feet under him in preparation to run. “If they know what’s good for them, they’d stay away.”

He didn’t stick around long enough to hear Kurama’s reply.

The rope began twitching.

It started the next morning after Kurama’s inane words bounced around his head all night and refused to allow him to sleep. Hiei studied the knot on his finger, not wanting to believe what his gut was telling him. It was tightening up. The range of motion was a little stiffer, a little more resilient.

As the day went on, the rope had less and less give. Less extra coiling trailing after him, more resistance as he moved quickly, a little pull here and there when whatever was on the other end decided to be just as stubborn as he.

He hated this. Literally shackled, bound, and trapped, this was not the life Hiei could live. But the rope had learned and nothing — not his fire nor his ice and not even his sword — would cut the damn thing off.

So he ran. He trained. He pulled and tugged and refused to allow this addition to his life keep him from his normal habits. And by the time the sun started to set, he ignored the taut tension as the rope rose into the sky. It traveled through the forest, not a single give lowering to the ground as far as he could see. It was probably caught on a tree and he should go free it up to give him more room, but his feet stayed where they were.

If the rope wanted him to meet someone, it was going to have to do the work itself.

“Hiei?”

He knew that voice. His brows twitched, debating the idea of returning to sleep. The training had been an exhausting one and the air cooled as night fell. He was comfortable, he was content, and he didn’t want to shatter the peace as the sun rose. Which he would. Every semblance of normalcy would go out the window if he opened his eyes and turned onto the being of color that so often showed up at inopportune times.

Even if it would be nice to see the blue of her hair lit by the slowly brightening sky.

“Hiei.”

Her voice changed. Softened. It was a breathy statement lacking the conviction and confidence she wore on her sleeve. Hiei couldn’t remember the last time she spoke to him in an uncertain tone and that alone made him want to shake off the rest of his sleep.

Something tugged his finger and he tossed aside that notion with a frown. If she saw the string — rope, chain, shackle — she certainly wouldn’t let him get any rest.

“Hiei, I know you’re awake.” Her tone gained back a little of its power. “Hiei, don’t ignore me. I won’t stand for you to be so rude, especially when you’ve been pulling me along all day.”

Breath stopped in his lungs. Surely... Surely not. There was no way she meant what she said.

“It’s been getting tighter and I finally decided to follow it, only for it to start pulling me this way and that!” She was getting angry. He always enjoyed the fire in her eyes when she got angry. “I had work to do yesterday! People to help, souls to assist, and I couldn’t do anything with you running and running and running!”

Tension lined his shoulders and down the length of his spine. That prickle of hope shifted again. It sounded like— No, it couldn’t be. Her? Shackled to him? Forever?

He’d ruin her.

“Hiei, if you don’t get up right this instance, I’m going to pull you out of that tree!”

He dropped in silence, startling the woman back a step. The shadows were receding and the birds were singing in the trees and for the first time in four days since he woke up attached to a chain, his finger felt light. Looking down, he watched in silent awe as the rope dwindled, pulling his arm and her arm up until with a flash of light, it disappeared.

Her palm was soft despite the callouses. She must have taken care of her skin, or her broom wasn’t hard to hold, or maybe anything felt soft when compared to the scarred tissue on his.

Her fingers twitched, then fit with his and laced their fingers together. “Hiei?”

He couldn’t keep his eyes away. Looking up, seeing her bright blue hair haloed by the rising sun and her lavender eyes soft and hesitant and shining with hope, he almost staggered under the weight of his heart as it thud in his chest.

“Fool,” he whispered and shock crossed her face. “You’re a fool for accepting me.”

The shock disappeared and something softer took its place. Something he had only seen when Kurama was lost in memories.

“You’re a fool for thinking I wouldn’t.”

Let me know what you think!

#yyh #yu yu hakusho #hiei x botan #hiei #botan #au yeah august #auyeahaugust #soulmate au #my stuff #fanfiction #when a fandom is so old it doesn't have ship names #y'all i really loved this #and i hope you do too #foolish

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mollymauk-teafleak · 6 years

Note

psssst...if you're accepting prompts then you should totally write something for demon!alex *backflips out window*

CAREFUL, PLEASE DON’T HURT YOURSELF

Being a demon, ahunting animal in every sense of the world, Alex’s fight or flight response wasone of his strongest instincts. And right now, as he sat on the bed watchinghis girlfriend pace back and forth across their small bedroom with the phonepressed to her ear, her expression tense and shaky as she said those words- I’mpregnant…again- every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run and runand not stop.

But he’d promised.He’d promised on bended knee, with too many emotions to count bubbling in hischest as he kissed her stomach again and again, he’d promised to be here forher whatever she needed.

Even if it might endwith him being killed slowly and painfully.

Eliza’s expressiongave nothing away, he could only imagine what was happening with the other halfof her conversation as he watched his Betsey nod and make vague noises ofagreement and mumble half replies.

“No, we didn’t…itwasn’t exactly, no…of course…I know, Dosia, I’ve thought about it carefully…yeah…thanksso much, we’ll be there soon…I love you too.”

After an agonisinglylong wait which Alex spend trying to calculate how much damage his demonic bodywould realistically take on if he jumped out of the window right now, Eliza gavea nervous sigh and held the phone out to him.

“She wants to talk toyou,” she murmured apologetically, trying not to look like she was handing hima grenade ticking its way gradually and inescapably down towards exploding,though that was how it felt.

Alex accepted thephone hesitantly, taking a deep breath and trying to remind himself forcefully anything for Eliza, anything for mychildren, anything for my family.

“Your majesty?” hetried carefully, thinking it was best to start out very formally and politely,seeing as he was dealing with his boss’ wife, the Queen of the Crossroads andone of the most powerful demons in history.

And his Betsey’s bestfriend.

“So,” he tried andfailed to keep the nervous tremor out of his voice, “Eliza told you the goodnews, huh? New little bundle of- “

“Alexander Hamilton,”Dosia cut across him, her tone so cold and flat it left Alex feeling like he’dbeen dumped alone and naked on an Arctic ice floe, “Are you a complete andutter moron?”

Alex bit his lip,eyes silently begging Eliza for help but even his beloved couldn’t save himnow, “I like to think I’ve at least got street smarts- “

“Don’t interrupt, “Dosia snapped, no louder but there was a force behind it, an echo that turnedhis guts to lava, “Because I see no other way someone could watch the personthey loved, the very delicate and breakablehuman, whose already been through literal Hell for them, struggle to carryand give birth to one of their half demonic babies…and then accidentally knockthem up again!”

Alex trembled, “Um…Iknow and I’m sorry but I talked to Betsey and she says she s-still wants to gothrough with it…”

“Is that so?” thephone felt like it was getting hotter in his hand, uncomfortably hot in fact asDosia’s voice climbed and grew more fiery, trembling with the depth of Legion, “After500 years of existence, is something as simple as putting on a condom really thehardest thing you’ve ever had to do? Would you like me to explain it to you,for crying out loud? Here, so don’t open the damn thing with your teeth andthen take it between your thumb and forefinger…”

Even Eliza could hearit as her poor Alex received a sex ed lesson from a demon queen at fullstrength and volume, perching on the bed and watching with a fond, helplessexpression as he winced and held the phone at arm’s length, Dosia’s voice stillringing clear and powerful.

She did her best notto laugh at his misfortune, her hand resting soothingly on her belly where thenewest addition to their family was tucked up safe, the surprisingly tinylittle thing who was causing all this trouble. Usually telling your friends yourfamily was growing by one wasn’t a life-threatening task but their situationwas a pretty rare one, she had to admit.

Maybe rare was evenbeing too generous, unheard of was closer to the mark. Humans and demons didn’treproduce as a rule, let alone two times in as many years. Nor did they worktogether or date or live together or genuinely love each other the way Alex andEliza did, especially after facing everything that stood in the way of theirrelationship, so maybe all in all, having a baby wasn’t actually the weirdestthing they’d ever done?

Either way, a littleuncertainty was something Eliza was well used to.

She wasn’t all thatworried, Dosia had promised she’d just chew her Alex out for a while, leavinghim untouched. And as Eliza thought back to the twenty-six hours it had takento bring their son into the world, she couldn’t help but feel like he deservedto be strung up just a little bit?

She promised himselfshe’d put him back together with hugs and kisses as soon as he was done, gettingto her feet and wandering out of the bedroom, leaving Alex’s very angryeducation to be muffled by the door closing behind her. Shaking her headfondly, she wandered down the hall towards the nursery, the one where littlePhilip slept but would soon be turned around and redone for the new baby.

Philip had taken thenews that he was going to be a big brother very well, better than Alex andEliza could have hoped, especially when they told him that they’d be moving inwith the Burrs (so Eliza could be under their protection while she was in hervulnerable condition) which of course meant being even closer to his bestfriend in the whole world, little Theo.

He swallowed all thatchange and disruption with nothing but enthusiasm and yet the prospect ofgiving up his room for the new baby was what had shaken him to his little three-year-oldcore. So, Eliza wasn’t all that surprised when she found him sat ratherforlornly on the nursery carpet, like he was making the most of every secondthe room was still his, idly hugging his toy giraffe.

“Hello there, littleman,” she smiled, sinking onto the floor next to him, wondering how much longerit would be before her pregnancy made such simple movements impossible, “Youlook thoughtful.”

“Thinkin’,” Pipconfirmed, nodding so hard his mop of curls bounced.

Eliza stroked herlong fingers through his hair. Looking at little Pip as he was now, you’d neverbe able to tell what he was or, rather, what half of him was. Sometimes shefound herself unconsciously studying him, how he interacted with the othertoddlers they encountered at the park, looking for any signs or little ticsthat might put her precious baby in danger. Most of her nightmares these daysplayed out the things she couldn’t let herself even consider in daylight,namely what might happen if people knew the truth about her son. People meaningjust about anyone, more vitriolic hunters, demons looking to get one over onher boyfriend, even just ignorant humans doing their usual hideous thing withthings they didn’t understand. From her world, from Alex’s world, Eliza strivedto make sure her little lion cub had no idea of the myriad of dangersurrounding him from all sides.

She didn’t think thenightmares were going to get any easier, though, as her second baby grew.

“What are youthinking about, love?” she murmured, trying to shake those thoughts out of hermind.

Pip wrinkled hisnose, scrunching up his smattering of freckles, “Um…dunno?”

Eliza chuckledgently, “That’s okay…are you maybe thinking about what Pops told you yesterday?About the new baby?”

His sweet little heartshaped face flushed a bright pink as he admitted, “Maybe.”

She’d expected asmuch, gently lifting her son into her lap, holding him as close as she couldwhich never really seemed to be enough. As she did, she guided his pudgy littlestarfish hands down to her lower stomach, not for any particular reason, justthinking that the action seemed to soothe Alex and maybe it would work forPhilip too? But it turned out to be a very good unconsciously made decision.

As soon as his palmstouched down on his mother’s skin, Pip’s already large eyes widened even more,his mouth opening in a little O of surprise.

“Mama!” he whisperedreverently, “There they are!”

“Oh?” Eliza blinked,charmed by the expression of bewildered excitement on his face.

“Can feel them!” Pipwas practically vibrating with excitement, the demon side of his genes showingthrough in the restless energy that visibly buzzed through him, “Can feel them glowing!”

Of course. Alex couldpick up on the baby’s energy as they grew in her womb, from the way it wasentangled with his own, a part of him as much as it was a part of her. Whycouldn’t Pip do the same?

“Can you really?” Elizagrinned, with only a little touch of jealously. Why did she have to wait untilthat first kick when it was her body the baby was inside? Stupid demon powers…

“Uh huh!” Pip beamedback at her, the gaps showing in his teeth, “They’re green! Nice green, greenlike grass and flowers and…and frogs!”

Eliza snorted withlaughter at that, cupping Philip’s face lovingly in her hands, running herthumbs over his soft cheeks, “That sounds very lovely, little man.”

“I swear, if you puther life on the line just because you can’t keep it in your pants one more time, Hamilton, you lose yourdick privileges, do I make myself clear?” Dosia snarled down the line, probablycausing some of the wires and transistors along the way to burst into flames.

“I wouldn’t go thatfar!” Alex yelped defensively, his nature getting the better of him, “She’llhave you and Maria like last time, I don’t think her life’s in dangernecessarily…”

He realised immediatelythat this was the wrong thing to say as a horrible silence, somehow worse thanher words, filled the space between them, stretching out until he was beggingfor her to start yelling at him again.

“Uh…Dosia?” heventured in a mouse-small voice, wondering if she actually had fried theconnection.

“Alexander,” came theicy reply, “Have you ever had to carry a ten-pound weight in your stomach andthen push it out of, in your case, your ass? Because if you have a burningdesire to do so, I do have that power you realise and am perfectly happy tooblige you from this distance…”

The rumble in Alex’sstomach at that point was most likely a complete coincidence, the effect of thesoda he drank earlier (he wasn’t one for moderation) or something elsecompletely unrelated to Dosia’s threat but it still struck terror into him.

“No, no, no!” he gavea little scream, gripping the side table, “No thank you, your majesty, allpowerful and merciful queen of the underworld, I feel like I can empathise withmy girlfriend sufficiently without that, thank you and also I kind of want toactually live to meet my child?”

Dosia made a derisivenoise but thankfully, nothing happened to Alex.

“Listen, I’m nothappy about the fact that Eliza has to go through that mess again,” he groaned,running his hand through his hair, “But she wants to do this and I respectthat. For the whole nine months, I swear, I’ll be right by her side and doevery single thing I possibly can to make it even a little bit easier on her.And, for your information, I’d be saying that even if you hadn’t yelled at meso…so, yeah.”

Realising he didn’thave a good end to his argument, Alex just kind of trailed off, his hand fallinglimp by his side.

There was anotherharrowing pause before Dosia spat out, “Congratulations,” and slammed the phonedown on him.

That was when Alexdecided to run.

Philip and Eliza werestill sat in wonder as Alex sped into the nursery, skidding to a halt as allhis fear fled and expression softened at the scene in front of him.

“Can feel the baby,Pops!” Pip shrieked delightedly before his father could even open his mouth, “They’rein there!”

Alex chuckled, comingand taking a place by his Betsey so she could lean her head on his shoulder,taking the opportunity to wipe away a few emotional tears as she did. He’dreally hoped his little one would get that particular power of his, the onethat brought him so much peace, to know for sure that his loved ones were closeand safe.

“He’s been telling meall about them,” Eliza explained, smiling tenderly, wrapping her arms aroundAlex’s, “How they’re feeling, what mood they’re in, he can sense all of it.”

“No way!” Alexgrinned, it sounded as if he was even more perceptive than his father, “That’sso cool, you go little buddy!”

Pip flushed withpleasure, demonstrating his power proudly as he carefully examined his mother’sstomach, her shirt pushed up for his hands, “Very green, green and happy. Kindahungry. Lotsa love.”

Eliza gave a gentle,happy little sob into her palm, snuggling close to Alex, “Oh…”

Alex found his girlfriend’shand and squeezed tight, his own voice thick with emotion, “And can you feelhow much they love you, mijo? How much they love their big brother?”

Pip puffed his littlechest out, eyes as bright and human as you could hope, “Yes! Love for me, too.”

Alex smiled, rufflinghis son’s hair. Maybe they didn’t fit into one category or another, maybe theywere breaking a few rules. But it sure as hell felt worth it.

#I love this #demon!alex au #its the best au #thanks for the prompt!#spn au #hamliza #alexander x eliza

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necromantic13 · 6 years

Text

[5] Moira O’Deorain - Game Point

PART FIVE of SPIDERFIGHTS. This is the last installation of Moira vs. Sombra/Widowmaker. Let’s get deep into some sabotage, shall we?

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Sombra plays her favorite game. She is very, very good at it.

“I’m worried about Lacroix,” Moira said, sipping at her drink while Akande looked over his computer. That morning, Sombra had seen her making her way toward his office, and in a decision born of caprice and bitterness, decided to follow her.

Now the hacker found herself pressed awkwardly against the wall by the door, listening to Moira talk with her boss and wondering what fresh level of shit she was about to land herself in.

Moira, ever a picture of poise and composure under the pressure of inventing new ways to ruin lives, steepled her fingers as Akande pursed his lips, saved his work, and looked up at her.

“How do you mean?” he asked, face impassive as ever. Sombra still couldn’t read him reliably, which was probably why he was the boss.

“She and your new hacker have become,” Moira paused, nails pressed against her chin, “close.”

Akande shrugged, unconcerned. “It does not matter to me what they do in their spare time so long as they still do their jobs. Lacroix can still hit a man between the eyes from 500 feet and Sombra delivers better intel than anyone I have ever worked with. Their performance does not suffer. In some aspects, it has even become more reliable.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair to regard the woman before him. “I fail to see the problem.”

“With all due respect, Akande, the entire purpose of Lacroix’s reconditioning was to remove the capacity for emotional connection. If she’s somehow establishing one with this Sombra, well,” she shrugged, hands raised in helplessness. “Isn’t it only a matter of time before the rest of the house comes crumbling down?”

Akande’s eyes shifted ever so slightly as he mulled over Moira’s words, and Sombra felt as though she had ice in her veins as her mind raced to beat the geneticist's request to its inevitable conclusion.

“What are you suggesting, Moira?” Akande asked, hands clasped professionally before him.

“Let me reevaluate her. Let me make sure there are no cracks in the glass, so to speak.” Moira smiled, her expression sharp like a reptile’s. Sombra bit her lower lip to keep from calling her bluff, checking her camo to make certain it was still active.

Akande sighed, but Sombra could see that he was considering her argument. “If Lacroix consents to it,” he said at last, “then I can see no harm in it.” He pushed his chair away from the desk and stood up, indicating it was time for Moira to leave. “I expect you to comport yourself professionally?”

“Akande,” Moira purred, bowing in an overblown display of regality. “Have I ever deceived you?”

Akande grunted noncommittally and Moira took her leave. As the door closed slowly behind her, Sombra slipped out carefully in her wake.

She sped across the mansion, making it from the offices to the kitchen before dropping her camo and taking a breath. So this was how Moira O’Deorain played? She had almost - almost - seen it coming, and in the light of this development, felt the familiar spark of confidence take hold in her soul.

Now she understood the rules of the game, and Moira had unknowingly moved the pieces onto her side of the board.

“My move, doc.”

“Please, Widow. I - I know I’m asking a lot.”

“You are,” was the sniper��s somber reply. She was perusing the endless, ancient collection of books held in the vast library of the Venetian mansion, looking for some dry tome she’d yet to crack open. Sombra kept offering to download her any electronic source she might want, but the spider always declined, preferring to spend hours among the dusty books looking for something to help pass the time.

“She’s not going to stop if you object,” Sombra pressed, following her down the row of books she was scanning. “She might even use it as ammo to make you do it later on, and then I don’t know if I can help.” She had promised to keep her in the loop; promised to continue watching her back and let her know if the geneticist had any machinations in the works. It didn’t make the conversation any easier.

“What does she intend on doing?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Not in detail. Just that she wants to check for ‘cracks in the glass,’” Sombra replied, rolling her eyes. “I assume run a diagnostic. At least that’s what I would do with a program I thought might be running faulty.”

“I am not a computer program,” Widow replied, a familiar bitterness creeping into her tone.

“I know that,” Sombra said, placing an apologetic hand on the small of her back, “but Moira certainly thinks you are.”

Widow had no response to that; the geneticist had demonstrably proven, over and over, that she viewed Widowmaker as a project of her own creation rather than a woman whose life she had irreparably altered. “What if the data shows something?” she asked, concern floating behind her eyes, hidden by her hold on apathy. “I have...I feel. Sometimes.”

“Do you trust me?” Sombra asked, tugging at Widowmaker’s hand and prompting her to make eye contact.

“I hate it when you ask me that,” she frowned, impassive.

“Yeah but do you?” she asked again.

“Yes.”

“Then let me do what I do best.”

Widowmaker raised an eyebrow. “Get yourself into trouble?”

Sombra smirked. “No - figure it out as I go along.” Widowmaker smiled weakly, tired beyond reason, stress affecting her in ways different from most people, but affecting her nonetheless. “I don’t know what she has in mind, but I have my suspicions, and I swear to god I’ll shoot her in the head before I watch her rewind you.”

Widowmaker laughed at this, and Sombra frowned, surprised at the response.

“You will have to beat me to it, cherie,” she said, and Sombra grinned as she leaned forward to kiss her.

Widowmaker sat in a large metal chair flanked by flat screen and hard light monitors spanning nearly every color of the rainbow. Moira had rigged her up to an EKG machine designed to, as she patronizingly explained to Widowmaker, track her emotional responses to stimuli and questions. Akande had joined them as well, which spoke volumes as to how much he trusted her to work unsupervised with his prize assassin. Sombra hadn’t accounted for his presence, but that’s why she didn’t like to make plans: they always got gunked up in the thick of it and had to be reworked on the fly, anyway, so why waste the time?

That plus she hadn’t entirely narrowed down what her point of focus was yet. The room was filled with tech; a den of temptation, and despite the rather dire circumstances presented, it took all Sombra’s willpower not to hack into every single beeping metal object in the room. Moira couldn’t have booby-trapped the place better if she’d tried: she felt like a kid in a candy store being told that she could only pick one thing to eat.

Luckily, after surveying the room for a bit, she was pretty sure she knew what that thing was.

Sombra stood perched in the back, balanced on a mostly-empty table of unemptied boxes that she was wagering on Moira not requiring the use of, as the doctor fussed over Widow’s neural connections and began to get a baseline on her readout.

“What is your name?” Widowmaker looked at her askance; Moira amended her question. “What was your name?”

“Amélie. Lacroix, maiden name Guillard.”

The machine flashed, a low tone emanating. Moira seemed pleased; Akande seemed nonplussed, allowing the doctor space to work with his oversight.

“Who is your employer?”

“I work for Talon.”

“And what is your role?”

“I am an assassin; a sniper.”

Sombra watched the proceedings from her vantage point, less interested in the content of her questions and more in watching the rapid flow of data between computers. The EKG wires glowed a deep blue as she watched them with her cybernetics engaged, shooting flashes of binary at the screen Moira was watching. What was most interesting, however, was that the majority of this processing was taking place via some mechanized middleman in a large tower to her left, a mainframe comprised of stacks of server trays, parsing the feedback from Widowmaker’s body almost immediately upon receiving it and sending that data back to the viewing screen.

This was the nexus, and it was where Sombra’s work would need to be done. To properly hack the computer, however, she would need to drop her camouflage.

She jumped from the table as gingerly as she could and made her way around the room, taking care not to catch her jacket on any wayward flasks or paperwork. Brushing past Widow, she ran a hand gently against her back. The sniper stiffened slightly, and as Akande and Moira turned to watch the screen blip in response to her surprise, Sombra appeared across the room from them.

Holding up one finger against her lips, she nodded toward the duo.

Widowmaker took the hint without missing a beat.

“Pardonnez-moi?” she asked as Moira nearly turned around, an action that would have set her attention directly on the exposed hacker as she worked. “Can I ask what you are reviewing?”

Moira, unable to resist answering a question about her own work, smiled.

“We’re reviewing your neural impulses and checking for synaptic growth.” She gestured at the strange spiderlike mapping across the screen. Some areas were lit up, and others stayed dark. “Some is to be expected, but in excess it could prove,” she paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “damaging.”

“Damaging?” Widow asked innocently, doing her best to avoid looking at Sombra. The hacker had latched into the network easily enough, hooking her own system into Moira’s with a flick of her wrist. The data within was endless and teeming with distractions, and it was with no small force of will that she steeled herself against them to locate what it was she needed to find: the processing core.

As the sniper made small talk with Moira and Akande monitored the screen, Sombra worked on peeling herself free from the mainframe, one byte of data at a time, in order to leave no residual trace of her presence. A quick look at Widow showed she was struggling to keep the scientist’s attention; Sombra took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and disconnected.

Widowmaker faltered, unable to come up with any more questions to ask Moira to distract her. As the geneticist turned, satisfied with the trajectory of her work, Sombra stepped behind the large computer system and vanished.

Perfect timing, she thought to herself, and she saw Widowmaker smile almost imperceptibly as she disappeared.

The rest of the testing went by quickly - Moira inflicting emotional pain on Widow as she expertly answered, deadpan and apathetic, the blips on the screen registering only the most remedial of emotional responses. Her responses were impeccable, and when Moira posed her final question, Widowmaker was more than prepared to answer.

“I understand there have been some instances of,” she paused, pretending to consider her words, “internal conflict of motivations. Should Sombra attempt to sabotage another mission with her personal whims, would you hesitate to neutralize her?”

The spider sighed dramatically and canted her head to the side.

“No.”

The machine didn’t register a single reaction; simply a flat, uninteresting tone indicating only the barest of reticence at killing her colleague. It was so realistic that Sombra might have even believed it had she not been viewing the actual results of the test on her own screen. Her heart skipped a beat with the twitching line of Widow’s synapses on the hard light screen, and she smiled.

“I think we’re done here, yes?” Akande said, having the temerity to look inconvenienced. He didn’t have to say that Moira had wasted his time; the implication was in his tone of voice.

Moira, a picture of grace under fire in normal circumstances, was having a hard time maintaining her composure. “I suppose so,” she replied, looking over the machine carefully. If she suspected something, she wouldn’t find anything. Not this time.

Fool me once, Sombra grinned from her corner.

“It looks as though your work is as impeccable as ever,” Widowmaker offered drily, and Moira latched onto her words in order to save face.

“I suppose I shouldn’t second guess myself.” Laughing superficially, she gestured toward the door out of the room. “You may go now.” Widowmaker stood, and Sombra took her leave, translocating to the beacon she’d left outside the laboratory for a quick escape.

When the trio emerged, Sombra was waiting outside, leaning casually against one of the whitewashed clinic walls, gazing at her nails in boredom.

“You pass, spider?” she asked, looking at Widowmaker.

The sniper nodded. “Yes,” she replied perfunctorily, walking to meet the hacker.

“I do not wish to hear of this again,” Akande said to Moira, his voice soft but easily heard across the room. Nodding at Widow and Sombra, he took his leave, turning too quickly to see the flush across Moira’s face.

“Guess the good doctor shouldn’t second guess herself, should she?” Sombra said, her words an innocent repetition of Moira’s a moment before.

A shadow crossed the geneticist’s face. She knew.

Good.

“Hasta tarde,” Sombra said, smiling sweetly and waving her fingers at Moira. Joining her other hand with Widow’s, she tugged gently, and the two of them left Moira’s office.

Sombra smiled to herself and disconnected her wireless link to Moira’s computer. For a moment she considered keeping Widow’s data for herself; another piece of blackmail she could save to hold over the geneticist’s head in a moment of need...but the implications therein were too damning, too bold, and the only one who would suffer if they were recovered was Widowmaker.

Instead, she pressed the fingers of her left hand together and deleted it, permanently, from her memory.

I win, doc.

#moira o'deorain #sombra #widowmaker #spiderbyte #olivia colomar #amelie lacroix #sombramaker #widowsombra #overwatch fanfic #overwatch

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