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serene-victory-77 · 3 years

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Why The Crows Being Teenagers Is Actually Perfectly Realistic

There’s a TL;DR are the end because wow I like to rant.

I lightly discuss the general situations they’re all in to explore how they are frighteningly mature and competent, but it’s not particularly depressing or descriptive, it’s definitely lighter than the books

I thought about this post with a joke first: “People who think that Six of Crows is unrealistic because they’re so young clearly have not spent much time with traumatized honors students.”

It’s a bit of an exaggeration, but the point stands.

But I decided that, hm, actually, I could make a point about this. I totally agree with the aging up of the characters in the Shadow and Bone show, but when people straight up say that the books are wrong or unrealistic for having a young crew, I get annoyed, and here’s why (other than me reading the books for the first time when I was 13 and thinking ‘Huh okay, I see it’ and now being lowkey offended when people say they ignore it for being unrealistic):

On Inej

- At first I thought Inej’s wisdom and general demeanor was one of the most unrealistic things in the book

- When I thought about it longer, I was like “Actually, she’s 16, right? I’ve sent some of the most lyrical philosophy trying to help my friends while in high school. My friends have done the same. It’s valid.”

- Frankly, teenagers love hard-hitting philosophical truths. They love repeating what they’ve read or heard in movies and in books and from family stories. They love sharing little bits of wisdom they have come up with

- Inej’s ability to hear and understand philosophy and wisdom that she was surrounded by for 14 straight years and then sit on it and elaborate it for her friends to understand, or even just to piss them off in Kaz’s case?

- Teenagers have that. They do it. So, Inej’s Wisdom passes, to me. It’s valid.

As for her being calm

- You know how everyone jokes that Kaz seems calm on the outside but when you get to his POV he’s like “What the fuck” at the Van Eck house or just straight up “Huh, is this revenge for making tree jokes” at the Djel River thingy in the Ice Court?

- Inej is like that, too. And she gets angry, and she gets confused, or exhausted.

- AKA every quiet kid ever. Like, are you kidding? Have you ever been in a situation in which it’s literally chaos all around you, people are screaming and things are being destroyed (think middle school classroom with bitchy long term substitute and even worse students), and you’re just, calm? You pick up your things, you do what you need to do?

- That’s Inej. Like, what else is she gonna do? She’s smart enough to know that panicking won’t help anyone, and so she just rides it out. Internally she might be like “Why is this happening” but frankly, her being quiet and controlled in most situations is probably a coping mechanism and I respect that

- Pretty sure this is also based on the fact that the Suli have no land for their own and constantly have to keep moving. It might align with generational trauma, I’m sure someone could explain it better than me, but being able to keep your cool while constantly having to change and adapt to new situations, in, say, a country with hellfire politics and no land to call your own? Seems like a hereditary trait that could be useful in Ketterdam, although it’s sad.

On Inej’s abilities

- Simone Biles started training when she was 6 and went to the World Artistic Gymnastics Championships when she was 16, where she qualified in all the events.

- There are videos of people walking over tightropes as young as three years old. We know Inej didn’t start that young, but not only was she naturally talented at it, but she spent a lot of time practicing. I think it’s valid. Plus, some of her family members do some pretty crazy things in her flashbacks, because that’s the whole point of what they do.

- Youngest person to beat American Ninja Warrior was 16 year old Vance Walker

- Inej has a variety of of tools that help her wall climb, and while it’s true that she started young and got good really fast, she already had a history of physical work that would help her, and from what we can gleam from the book, a surprising amount of free time in which she was actively encouraged to learn everything she could.

So that’s Inej! I think her skills are perfectly possible for someone with her history and situation. It’s true that she’s naturally skilled, but that’s not actually all that unusual. And her demeanor and wisdom do fit in with what a lot of teenagers are like and the circumstances she was brought up in

Onto Kaz!

- One thing I hear about is that Kaz is too smart for not having gone to school and also too young to know all that he does

- Do you all KNOW how many self-taught people there have been in this world? The word for people who are self-taught is autodidacts, and honestly a huge amount of famous people apply. Like many, many other people in history (there’s a whole list of them in Wikipedia), he had an vested interest in a field and he learned all he could. Sure, those fields were magic tricks and math, but still.

- Suddenly I have a lot of thoughts

- Okay, think, hyperfixations. That’s essentially what Kaz’s thing with magic tricks was, right? Have any of you ever spent time with an eight year old that clearly really, really loves dinosaurs? Those kids can spout names and facts and identify them by their skeletons and frankly know more than I ever will. Kaz’s was magic tricks. All kids are special.

- Kaz continued working on magic tricks and practicing them for years, so, I think that gets a pass.

- As for the math! Look, a Fact Of Life is that some kids are just Like That, whether it be possibly from neurodivergence or other factors:

- Flo and Kay Lyman are twins with Autism who basically have the calendar of EVER memorized. Kaz memorizing card decks is sensible, and these ladies don’t need to look up anything to figure it out, so Kaz doing sums inside his head seems plausible. His “photographic memory’ isn’t impossible, although the term itself might be incorrect.

- Katherine Johnson who worked at NASA (yes, the lady from Hidden Figures), was so good at math that she was in high school by age 10 and went to college at age 15. It’s true that she had some teaching, but 1. There’s no evidence Kaz had absolutely no schooling, even if it was just at home with books and 2. Kaz was 9 when he came to Ketterdam, and after Jordie died, when he wasn’t surviving, he was learning.

- Human calculator is a term that is applied to children a lot and there’s definitely plenty of videos showing how smart these kids are and them doing mental math easily, which he does in the books

- He had a LOT of pressure on him to figure out all he could, and if he wanted to move forward, he was going to have to learn a lot. He spent hours practicing magic tricks, for all we know he spent hours practicing math too. We know Jordie was a bit of a bookworm too, so Kaz from a young age probably already had a reason to learn. Personally, a lot of my love for books was inspired by my older sibling when I was younger

- Young people are adaptable. Kaz is incredibly adaptable. The term prodigy exists because of people like him through history.

- As for him being rational, there’s no other way to survive. Some of the greatest soldiers in history have been very, very young, and very, very smart. It’s true tacticians are generally considered to be older, but that doesn’t mean there haven’t been very young ones.

- A lot of the generals I found were like, 19 years old, but Kaz is 1. not a general and 2. in a place where young people take up the mantle really, really quickly, and frankly it’s been like that for a long time. I still think this passes. This isn’t relevant but William the Conqueror was apparently called “The Bastard”?

- Frankly, underground communities of thieves probably don’t go around publishing their escapades so to me it makes sense that I can’t just look up “famous young thieves” and get anything that makes sense, but I did try

- Y’all I tried to do research on youngest escape artists since I think Kaz qualifies and I found myself in what I think is a magicians forum? It’s from 2002-ish and I feel like I’ve just found a relic. I can’t definitely prove they’re all saying the truth, but some of the people there talk about 10-11 year olds at magic camps, so, it’s not impossible for this to be a skill Kaz learned really young, particularly when he made a habit of following around magicians

- I think he passes the realism check overall

For the other Crows:

- Nina being so proficiently multilingual makes sense to me, because she’s been in the Little Palace almost her entire life with all the best teachers they could afford at her disposal. Some people just click with languages. One such would be Timothy Doner, who spoke 23 languages at 16.

- Nina is a child soldier. She of course can handle the battlefield, although I imagine there’s a degree of trauma that she has to deal with (although it’s true that most of her work was always meant to angle her towards being a spy).

- Jesper was taught to shoot from a young age by Aditi, who was likely incredibly proficient. Plus, there’s mentions of him and his father being on some sort of frontier at one point in the books, so, it’s likely that Jesper got his fair share of ‘being a child soldier” since he would’ve been 15 or younger. Plus, with being a Fabrikator, he gets a leg up

- Jesper’s smart y’all, he just also likes to have fun

- I am a little terrified by the fact that I looked up ‘youngest sharpshooter’ and found out about a 9 year old girl (Addysson “Addy” Soltau) who can indeed shoot guns, but uh, it does prove my point

- Matthias... I haven’t heard anyone really argue about Matthias. He’s the oldest at 18 and again, he’s essentially a religious child soldier. Of course he would be built af and know how to handle himself in a fight, and in a flashback about meeting Trassel, we’re told that he was actually distanced from the other boys and was the biggest and strongest/smartest of the group. Perhaps not compared to Kaz, but still

- We know how Wylan ended up how he is, so I don’t think i have to defend how he’s both a musical prodigy, good at math, and good at chemistry. Plenty of kids who can’t do one thing will immediately gravitate to a different field (think AP math students who can’t write essays, or those kids who could analyse a book and it’s metaphors in class but didn’t understand geometry).

- Granted he took it far but it’s kinda implied that his father ignored him eventually and what else was Wylan going to do

- I don’t really know how he did chemistry while not being able to read the symbols and stuff, but that’s likely because I’ve never had to learn the way he did and also I really suck at Chemistry, but I refuse to believe that it invalidates his capabilities

Final Thoughts:

- They’re Traumatized Honors Students

- People might say that “it’s unrealistic that all the smart ones somehow ended up together” but again they’re traumatized honors students and those gravitate to each other

- Of course the smart ones ended up together, they’re the ones in those crazy situations precisely because they are prodigies. Nina wouldn’t have met Matthias if she wasn’t skilled and a spy, Kaz wouldn’t have known Inej if she hadn’t been skilled at silence (I can’t explain that one but uh ninjas did/do exist and it IS still a fantasy world). Kaz would have never been a leader of the Dregs in a position to find Jesper if he hadn’t been so determined to rise to the top, and Jesper wouldn’t have been in Ketterdam if his father hadn’t thought that Jesper was smart enough to get that chance.

- You know how those fringe revolutionary artists for new eras end up knowing all knowing each other and even hanging out? That’s them.

- I have decided there is a strong basis for Autistic Kaz, someone who is more studied than me should feel free to explore this.

- I read this book a few years ago, A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah. It’s about this guy’s experiences as a boy soldier and it’s a painful read so I’m not sure I recommend it as a casual read, but he talked about these young kids being able to actually make competent military strategies and handle warfare. It’s an extreme example of what I’m trying to explain when it comes to them being able to handle the brutality of their situation, but it’s true, essentially

- They are definitely serious, but if you think they’re not teenagers I just, disagree so much. They have moments of lighthearted banter, they make light of their situation, they try to support each other Nina covers it so well in her farewell at the end of Crooked Kingdom: The little rescues of laughing at each others jokes or eating together and just supporting each other, is not only a very human thing, but a very teenager thing.

- Scary experiences that shape us happen all the time, and although for most it’s not the things that the Crows experience, picking each other up is a big part of why they do read as teenagers to me. I’ve seen kids be able to seriously converse about things like being questioned by the police, or being left to their own devices for days at a time, or the general impending doom they all feel, and it’s dark, but they’re also going to joke about silly puns 20 minutes later.

- Teenagers aren’t exempt from terrifying maturity and competence

- Finally: Despite all I said, it’s a fantasy story and doesn’t have to be realistic

In the end, everyone can believe what they want to believe, but this is my case for my opinion.

TL;DR The Crows are all prodigies and a lot of their achievements and capabilities are based in reality and there are real people who actually achieved things like what they’ve done. Messed up prodigies gravitate to messed up prodigies, hence how they all end up together. When it comes to their mental state, most of them have been brought up their entire lives in situations that required for them to problem solve and keep their cool even when things are going to hell.

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all-things-fic · 4 years

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Country Lane | Divorce Harry III

Thank you all for waiting for this one. Massive middle finger to tumblr for screwing the post up! Divorce Harry III is finally here!

Shoutout to my lovely ladies who taking time to read this for me @harrytheehottie, @harryfeatgaga, @haute-romance-quotidienne and of course @waitingfortwilight. Also, thank you to all my lovely anons and those of you who come off anon to talk about this, I’ve really loved the general chit chat about the series <3

Without further ado, enjoy! Lots of love and happy Saturday! x

*~*

You had no idea where you were.

Surrounded by nothing but overgrown grass and the odd wooden fence. If you listened carefully in the distance you could hear the traffic of what you thought could be the A34 road and you were pretty sure that the last sign you had seen before your car cut out had been for Congleton.

Rubbing your hands down your fresh face, your spa retreat to Mottram Hall for the hen-do of one of the school Mum’s entering her second marriage, was nothing more than a distant memory. As you sat freezing, in your car, looking out onto the harsh autumn weather of October, you were far from relaxed and rejuvenated.

Worrying your bottom lip with your top teeth, you juggled your phone from palm to palm. You knew you had to call him, you effectively didn’t have any choice. Especially after you’d pulled your way through your glove compartment and you hadn’t come up trumps with your breakdown cover documentation.

Part of you was cursing in that moment at how you’d handed the piece of paper which held all telephone numbers and car insurance policy account numbers over to your son to scribble upon during one particularly long car session, just to keep him quiet. You were actually sure it was now stuck on your fridge with a lovely drawing of what you presumed to be Marvel characters all over it.

The worst of it all was that you knew whatever had happened to your car was bad. You knew simply from the way the car had spluttered and started to grind before almost seizing up and stalling to a halt.

Unlocking your phone, you scrolled through your contacts and landed on his contact card. Clicking on it you saw when the last time you had called him was and recalled the soft FaceTime he’d had with your eldest son, who wanted to tell his Daddy about how he’d been picked for the schools first rugby team, taking him out of reserves and off the bench.

Breathing deeply, you ignored the ache the fond memory began to cause and tapped Harry’s name. The dialling tone that greeted you filled the pit of your stomach with knots as you tried to relax in the leather seat of your Range Rover.

Again, you started to worry your lips at the fifth ring, before the line clicked and you heard his warm voice. You froze at how friendly he sounded, his voice held an edge of laughter to it and you heard shuffling faintly in the background, followed by chatter, before it was shut out.

On the other end of the line, Harry had found himself dodging his way around people in his Mother’s kitchen in Cheshire, before leaving the room and catching your call before it cut off.

“Sorry ‘bout tha’,” he spoke an unnecessary apology, probably because of how long it had taken him to answer, as you remained quiet on the other line.

You blinked harshly at the sound of your name being spoken. “Are you still there?” Harry asked, pulling the phone away from his ear to see that the call was indeed still running.

“Ye- yeah,” you stuttered, partly due to a soft tremble to your lips from being cold.

“Everythin’ alrigh’?” He asked, a concerned edge to his question, as you dropped deeper into your car seat.

Another small amount of silence.

“Not really,” you responded, honestly. “Where are you?”

With a small frown, he answered, “‘M at Mums. ‘S her birthday this weekend, remember?”

Shit. You’d forgotten.

Heavily breathing in response, you said, “It slipped my mind. Sorry.”

There was a chuckle at the end of the line.

“Not like you tha’,” he playfully jostled, causing the pit of your stomach to fall through again. You hated how he always managed to make any conversation between the two of you not seem as if you were in the middle of a prolonged divorce. “Usually got everything colour coordinated on our kitchen calendar.”

And he still did that so smoothly too, spoke about things as if you still did them together. The use of ‘our’ and ‘we’ was second nature and so naturally fell off his tongue in a velvety way that was soothing but left you shivering if caught by your touch in a different way.

As if he could read your mind, before you’d thought it, he said, “Don’t worry. I added everyone’s names to the presents so she thinks they’re from all o’ us.”

“I shouldn’t have called, you’re busy,” you responded without feeling, starting to pull the phone away from your ear and back to thinking about how you could get in touch with your breakdown cover. There had to be a way, surely.

“Hey, no,” he was urgent. “Don’t hang up, ‘s fine. I’ve pulled myself away. ‘S okay- please. Don’t hang up on me, something’s not right ‘ere. ‘S okay to still need me sometimes, y’ know?”

“It’s okay, I can sort it myself-“ you flung your car door open. “Can you just tell me know how to pop the bonnet up on this car, cause it’s been so bloody long since I last had to do it-“

“Pop the bonnet? Why’d you need to do that? Have you broken down somewhere?” His questions were clipped as he asked.

“Don’t get arsey with me-“

“‘M not,” he replied, quickly cutting. He really was. “Are the kids wi’you?”

“‘S alright for me be stranded on the side of the road on my own when it’s about to get dark-“

“Did I say that?” Again, he words were clipped. “Are you trying to wind me up?”

“Why have you not told me how to raise the bonnet?”

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before walking the short distance in his Mother's hallway to lower himself, slowly, down to sit on the stairs.

“Underneath the passenger side there’s a lever,” he paused his softer tone, giving you time to find it. As he spoke you trampled against the grass closest to the passenger side and opened the door. Looking down at a red lever, which had clearly made itself known to you now that it had been brought to your attention.

“Found it?” he asked, hearing you hum.

You shut the passenger door of your car and stared at the slightly popped up bonnet, Harry’s voice filling your ears again. “If you feel underneath the bonnet, between the E and the R there is another little lever. Squeeze that and it’ll release the bonnet-“

“Where’s the little thing to keep it up?”

He breathily chuckled, “‘s on hydraulics so keeps itself up.”

Again, you didn’t respond and he was met with silence. Harry rested his chin against his palm waiting for you to speak, eyes looking towards the dimming light as night began to approach.

“Wha’ can you see?”

“Not a whole lot, it looks fine to me.“

“Darling, just let me come to you.”

“But this is why I pay for breakdown cover,” you snapped.

“Where are you?” He asked, voice deep and to your annoyance laced with concern that he should no longer hold.

You stammered trying to figure out some sort of excuse to bullshit him with, eyes taking in the country lane and the vast greeness around you.

“Last time ‘m askin’,” he harshly cut in. “‘S gonna get dark soon, so jus’ tell me where y’are.”

“Somewhere near Congleton.”

“And wha’s the matter wi’the car?”

You noted his voice on his last question was a bit pinched, probably from focusing on another task like pulling on a pair of trainers to bring him to you. He clearly wasn’t playing along anymore.

“Well, I think I’ve had an oil leak but none of the lights have come on to officially let me know whether I have or haven’t. The only thing is the nasty black marks that are on the driveway at home, but ‘s nothing that couldn't probably be jet washed off-“

As you rambled about cleaning the oil from the drive of the Hampstead home, Harry zoned out beginning to list the things he would probably require to bring with him. He was sure some of it could be found in Robin’s old garage, knowing that boxes of tools were still piled in the far corner.

“Send me your exact location via text.”

“Harry-“ you sighed.

“‘M not askin’, ‘m telling,” he abruptly responded.

***

People say that Googling symptoms is never a good thing, you suppose the same could be said for a car.

Were they symptoms though? You couldn’t quite coherently think of another descriptor for them as they brought up search after search at how you quite possibly could have ruined your car.

You tried not to dwell as the sky around you began to get darker while you sat in the safe passing place on the country lane. It wasn’t like you had much choice but to stick around.

Cold, and dithering slightly, you had taken to throwing your coat over your body like a blanket as simply wearing it wasn’t keeping your entire body warm enough.

Car doors locked and eyes closed, you tried to find some solace in your waiting. You didn’t have much avail, as you were interrupted by the harsh white lighting of LED headlights breaking through the dimming dusk sky.

You frowned, eyes squinting as the light got closer and pulled in behind you. A sense of uncertainty filled your body at the new arrival, along the otherwise desolate road.

A figure of a male jumped out of the car behind you, causing you to still all of your movement in your car seat as you tried to make out any features to you that would make you comfortable in knowing it was Harry.

The blinding lights made it far too difficult to see anything and you were beginning to think that the person behind you had left them on, on purpose. Unless they were those annoying ones that slowly turned themselves off.

Staring out you vaguely were able to make out the figure approaching you and as he got halfway you relaxed.

It was Harry.

He rapped his knuckles gently at your driver's side window and then smiled to himself as he realised how you wouldn’t be able to open it due to your inactive engine.

“Open the door for me,” he spoke, his voice slightly muffled as it came through your car window. He watched as you reached for the door handle inside and pushed the door ajar ever so slightly. “Could you have picked anywhere more hidden away?”

You didn’t respond straight-away, deciding instead to take him in as he stood with his left arm leaning up against the doorframe of your car. His right arm taut as he held the car door open and away from you both, not wanting it to cause any obstruction.

Underneath his khaki parka you could faintly make out a worn Versace tee as it hung open, unzipped. You internally rolled your eyes. What kind of person wore Versace to fix a car and possibly get covered in oil in the process?

As you rested your head back against the seat behind you, you silently enjoyed the way he looked down at you. It was always quite frustrating, even more so now you weren’t together, how magnetising he was.

“Do me a favour?” He broke the silent stare, “Lean over and pull the lever for me? Don’t quite fancy walking around the car and possibly going down a ditch.”

“My parking isn’t that bad!” You chastised, watching the way his lips twitched. “I’m being courteous of other cars on this tiny lane, given them extra room near the passing place-“

“You got miles of space this side of the dotted line,” he spoke cutting in, eyes wide and filled with humour. “Surprised you didn’t drive down the hill bank the other side to be extra courteous.”

“Can pull the lever yourself now, hope you break your ankle-“

“No you don’t-“

“I’d just leave you here, you know? Take the keys out of your pocket and go.“

“Don’t need to resort to petty crime,” his voice was a bit weaker now but still just as cheeky. “Could’ve just asked for ‘em.”

Your eyes moved towards the glinting keys that he held loosely by the key ring after quickly retrieving them from his pocket. Tauntingly wanting you to reach out from them.

“You’re just going to pull them away, if I grab for ‘em.”

“‘M not,” he stressed with a slight laughter. “You’re always so cynical and defensive. Not even thanked me for driving out to come and get you.”

You didn’t respond, instead you gently reached for the keys, feeling him slightly shift them from your grip as he enjoyed the determination on your face.

Fingers filled with want, you still grabbed for them, successfully but having to be halfway out of the seat and door of your car in order to fulfill your achievement.

When your feet met the ground beneath you, you quickly shifted around to pull your coat on properly. As you moved from the doorway, you watched as Harry dropped his chest onto the driver's seat and reached across the width of the car to pull the lever without needing to walk around the car to do so.

Putting a bit of distance between you, so you didn’t fall foul of staring too long at his bum in his blue jeans, you stalled yourself as he pushed his body up to standing and flipped through a book in his hands.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He said, flicking through what you now knew to be the car’s manual that he must’ve also grabbed from the glove box while inside the car. When you didn’t reply he tore his eyes away from the pages and over to you.

“You’re a good man.”

The honesty in your voice, knocked him. “‘M not, but ‘m trying t’be.”

The two of you stared at each other in the dimming darkness and you knew your gaze matched his sad one.

Clearing his throat, he threw the manual against the driver’s seat. “Anyway out m’ sight, leave the men to the work an’ all tha’. ‘S got heated seats an’ all, if you’re into tha’ sorta thing.”

***

You felt bad watching him out in the cold and dark, a light hanging from the bonnet the only source around him that you imagined was keeping him going.

Sitting in the passenger seat, you let your eyes roam around the black interior of his car that was incredibly spacious and so suitable for your barrage of children.

Your attention turned to outside again as you saw Harry move around from your car and walk up towards his own. His forearm came up to wipe across his mouth, bringing your attention to his facial hair that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker.

Without needing to be prompted, you pressed the button to lower the driver's side window and watched as he pressed his forearms into the resting place you had created for him now there was no window blocking his way.

“Can you get me one of them shammy cloths from out o’the boot please? Jus’ need to double check the dipstick.”

You nodded as he continued, “Would do it m’self but-“ he paused, opening out his hands and showing how dirty his fingers were to you.

“It’s fine,” you said, leaving the car and joining him. “I feel a bit useless anyway,” you admitted.

Both of you remained silent when he joined you at the back of his car, two sets of eyes easily spotting what you were looking for. You opened the packet of two cloths, a horrible peach colour, and passed him one before swapping places with him.

You moved to stand at the side of the car, watching him drop his head inside the boot to see if there was anything else he needed while he was at the other car.

“Since when did you become one of them?”

“One of who?” He asked, his head popping around the side of his car and out of the boot to look at you.

“Your lights on this car are far too bright.”

He rolled his eyes, remaining quiet as he turned back to the contents of his boot. He wasn’t going to respond to your unnecessary nitpicking.

“It’s really nice inside though. Single about me did well then,” you found yourself saying the comment in a biting fashion, unable to hold your tongue.

“Which one?” He bit right back, a clanging heard from the boot, “I asked you if you wanted a credit, you said no.”

You clammed up. He hadn’t taken what you said as a joke. A bit of light humour, you thought, for the road. It was your own fault. You’d become that sort of annoying person you often could get when you found yourself awkwardly doing nothing with yourself. Your delivery of your joke didn’t help either.

“Think I preferred you when you stayed sat, quiet, in the car,” Harry said, head moving out from the boot again so you could read his expressions. Raised eyebrows and twitching lips.

“Piss off,” you glared at him, slowly turning to walk away.

Now it was Harry’s turn to think you were joking, as he shouted after you. “Really gonna be like that after I turned up to save you. That’s twice now I’ve had t’remind yer.”

“You insisted-“

“I know I did,” he spoke around a chuckle. “Now where’re you off to?”

“‘M walking home-“

“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous,” he shouted after you, a frown jarring through his light features when he moved from the open boot to walk closer to you as you turned back around to face him.

***

He managed to coax you to sit back in the car not much longer after you’d stormed off in a huff. Not without a fight, but this was one he was willing to back down on just to get you to stop storming off.

Looking back on it now, the scene was probably quite funny to some passerby or outsider, or it would’ve been if you weren’t so secluded. A female dressed in the most fetching of clothes - sarcasm noted - arguing in the middle of a street. Like some five year old in need of a nap.

Speaking of naps, your eyes shot open wide at the loud bang of your car bonnet being shut. You hadn’t realised that you’d begun to doze until you were abruptly woken.

Bleary vision was quickly erased with a rub of your eyes, as you moved to face the front and pushed your hair from your face.

You were met with Harry busy fiddling with the wires of his lamp. His face dropped down and hair falling so easily into his eyes. He kept walking rather than look into the car to see if you were still with him. Instead, he dropped everything that was in his hands into the boot and proceeded to annoyingly continue to subconsciously show off by pressing a button to close his boot automatically.

Staying wrapped up in one of your kids car blankets, you curled your legs underneath your body and rested your right cheek against the headrest. You continued to be silent as you started to wake up, eyes blinking slowly as you watched Harry in the dark pull open his car door.

He swung his body into the car with an almighty groan, one that caused you in your sleepy haze to softly smile. He looked shattered as he relaxed in his seat and rested his head backwards.

With eyes closed he sighed heavily, letting you take him in without a care. You’d noticed that at some point since your nap he’d removed his coat and now he sat in just his t-shirt and jeans. Both, of which, now looked like they had seen better days.

His brow had begun to perspire as he entered the warmth of his car, the quick switch from the Baltic (slight over exaggeration) temperatures outside to those more welcoming inside the G-Wagon could do that to you.

“Don’t think it’s fucked completely,” he said to break the silence, wiping his face and sweat with the back of his hand and wrist, to try and ensure his oil covered fingers didn’t leave any other stains on his skin.

You enjoyed the way he used the back of his hand, wrist and forearm to wipe at his now slightly clammy skin. Stupidly it emphasised how defined his upper body had become. “Dipstick wasn’t as dry as I was expecting,” he continued, “Just topped her up and ‘m ‘oping she turns over and sounds as good as new.”

Again, silence. His eyes staring straight ahead of him, yours enjoying his profile. God, he had a fantastic nose. It was definitely something that your daughter had inherited and you wondered if it would be a feature that a loved one in her life would sometimes admire in the next generation.

“Got any baby wipes wi’ you?” He cut his eyes to yours from the corner of his vision, taking in the way you were curled up in the passenger seat wearing the car blanket of your eldest son.

His eyes lingered on your shape for a while, dropping down and enjoying the way you had curled yourself up and presented to him in such a cosy vision. It meant you felt relaxed around him and that was all he ever wanted.

It was a nice contrast to the emotive happenings between the two of you that had almost become commonplace of late. A foreign feeling that was so simple, but so exciting.

Without verbal response you reached from your handbag that was in the footwell to have a look inside at the contents.

“Don’t wanna leave this car, been a bit spoiled over the last hour or so. Could do with an upgrade myself as they’re all getting older and need a bit more room,” you spoke as you rummaged around, movements still slightly sluggish.

You were successful in finding what you needed, the rustling of the plastic packaging jarring to your ears. Quickly pulling at the cover overlay, you swiftly pulled out a couple of wipes with such a mom-like finesse that had you balancing them on top of the now closed packet as you turned to face Harry.

“Don’t even think about making it a clause in the divorce,” he joked, eyes looking up at you from underneath his brow. His eyebrows snapped up in shock as you snatched at his hand and abruptly pulled at the baby wipes you’d retrieved from inside your handbag.

The two of you fell silent as you wiped at his left hand first, watching the black of the oil slowly leave his fingers. Breathing was heavy in the empty space as you didn’t dare raise your gaze higher to look into his eyes, that you knew were watching you.

“It’s so attractive, how much of a Mum you are,” he dared to say what he really thought as his humoured expression fell away. “Cleaning my hands up nicely, like ‘m your child that’s made a mess of m’dinner.”

“Harry,” you sighed his name, fidgeting softly in your seat. He chuckled in such a husky way that you found yourself softening regardless of the way it riled you.

Releasing his left hand, you reached straight for his right. Seeing the way he caught himself and stopped it before it fell against his lap. He smoothly reached for you, brushing your hair behind your shoulders as it began to curtain across the right side of your face.

“Last time m’hands were this dirty, you were licking and sucking ‘em clean.”

You felt your face begin to heat up from his brazenness.

“Are you blushing for me?” He whispered, his left hand moving along your jaw, to tilt your head upwards. He had a hold of your jaw, slightly rougher than before and while your face played ball, your eyes did not. “‘S been ages since you blushed fo’me.”

Again the sound of breathing filled the car, Harry’s gaze all over your features before his other words punctuated the air, “Look a’me.”

As your eyes moved sharply to the right, you looked at the way he’d lolled his head back. His thumb slowly pulled at your bottom lip, watching the way it softly bounced from his touch, before he lifted it to trace faintly over your Cupid’s bow.

“Missed your lips,” he admitted, enjoying the light puffs of breath that bounced against the pad of his thumb. Before you could think, you’d taken his thumb inside your mouth, an appreciative groan leaving his lips.

You felt the way his fingers cupped under your chin, gently stroking at your skin, silently caressing. Teeth nipping playfully against the skin of his thumb as you pulled away.

“How much?” You asked, lips turning to ghost against the inside of his hand.

His eyes lingered as you watched him nudge his chin up slightly, silently asking for you to come to him.

You sucked in a heavy breath as you leaned into him, the dimming ceiling light of the car slowly allowing darkness to swallow you both. A faint smile nudged your lips as your nose fell against his top lip.

He scooped you under his arm - lining you up better - hands trying to hold you as near to him as he could as you leaned over the centre console of the car to be closer to him.

“Enough,” he husked, before adding, “Your nose is cold,” in a passing tone, lips against your temple now. Breathing deeply through your nose you let him pull you even closer, unable to believe that you weren’t close enough. Muffled apologies left your lips, about how your nose was cold.

The soft drag of his lips to yours pulled you under a haze that swept away your apologies and into a tender reacquaintance. His lips were slightly shaking against yours and you weren’t sure if it was to do with the cold that he had found himself in or if it were due to his nervousness.

Regardless he was steady. Knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted. Pulling kiss after kiss from you in the slowest fashion that you felt yourself beginning to warm up.

“‘S nice to have a little kiss,” he gently spoke against the corner of your mouth. “Missed you treating me to ‘em.”

“I think you just know exactly what to say,” you murmured as you allowed him to continue ghosting his lips over yours. “Know exactly what you're doing.”

“‘F you’re suggesting that I’m trying it on,” he murmured against your lips, “I absolutely fucking am.”

“Would never have guessed,” you looked at him with heavy eyelids, head now nudged back slightly to enable you to see his entire face. He smirked at you, eyes blinking slowly as he willed you to him once more.

His hand was secure around the back of your neck, fingers messily woven through your hair. His other hand gently massaged at the top of your back, over your fetching loungewear that you had chosen to drive home in.

“‘S it working?”

“What do you think?”

Harry’s eyes dropped in a slow blink as he felt the way your hand lowered down his chest and abdomen, which was wavering slightly from his nervous anticipation.

Dropping your head down to his chest, you left a kiss to his pec as you mumbled and felt the button of his jeans giveway to your fingers and thumb. “I am grateful, you know?”

“Yeah?”

The ruffle of your hair against the cotton of his tee filled the car, him recognising it as you nodding.

“Me too,” he assured.

And he was. Grateful.

For the life he’d had with you up until this point.

The family the two of you had created. The one you were so fiercely fighting for. Messily and viciously, all from a good place. The best place.

He licked at his dry lips, leaving his mouth to hang open slightly as he watched you descend down to his semi that was hidden in the confines of his jeans.

“Both of us need warming up,” he mused, his hands sliding from your hair and down your back, slowly and gently to your slightly raised bum from how you had placed yourself over the center console. “In’t that right?”

A dull slap of his hand against your leggings-clad bum had you rocking back as you felt his hands slide under the waistband to massage at your cheek.

Swallowing heavy, Harry tilted back his head and even through his hooded eyes he caught his blissed expression in the rear view mirror, as he felt you take his balls into your mouth and gently suckle.

He rasped your name as he basked in the dirty licks, heavily laden with saliva from your watering mouth before you took him into your throat. Obscene sounds from your actions wove between his heavy breathing and quick pants.

“Fuck me, darling.”

With his hand that was still against your bum, he pulled you closer. Hands desperate to have purchase of something as you gently but messily sucked and licked, desperate to feel the tickle of his pubic hair against the tip of your nose to know you’d successfully taken him all the way down.

His breathing was shaky, a quick hiss leaving his lips as he felt the way your nails dug into his denim clad thighs from his previous movements to try and hold steady. The position wasn’t ideal, but the feeling of your shaking breath against his wet cock as you nosed against his jeans had him smiling.

As you turned your head slightly to look at him from the corner of your vision, you noticed the way he was looking down at you. How powerful he seemed in that moment as you were slightly beneath him.

The thought changed though with the way his hand came up to your face, his thumb against your wet lips for the shortest time before he cradled the back of your head to help pull you back up and avoid any mishaps.

He tugged you forward to crush his mouth to yours with pleased hums as he tasted himself on you. Lips smacking as he pulled kiss after kiss from your mouth, smiling at the eagerness of you both.

His hands joined yours as they pulled at his jeans, his hips lifting in the seat and his arms strong as he pushed the denim and underwear down to sit closer to his knees.

“Mm,” he hummed, as his bare bum cheeks met the heated seat beneath them. “Put the seats on fo’me.”

“Don’t say I don’t ever treat you nicely.”

He huskily chuckled as he brought your lips back to him again. “Nice an’ warm,” he lazily spoke, acknowledging the heated seats. “Jus’ for me.”

And he knew every bit of his words meant the double entendre that you had caught,looking on as you pulled away to sink back into your own seat

Looking over at him, you noticed the lust behind his eyes as he slowly pumped his hand up and down his wet and aching cock when you sunk back into your own seat and watched his head loll against the headrest once more. His nostrils flared as he bit down on his bottom lip and nudged his chin up, getting you silently to come to him once more when he’d seen your movements in removing your own bottoms had ended.

“Wouldn’t do this for anyone else, y’know that?” You said around your messy kiss as you raised your legs and felt his hands guide you to straddle him. Hands splayed across your lower back and the top half of your bum as he secured you to him.

“Should bloody ‘ope not.”

As you sat above him, you could feel him there. Sprung back and wet. Your mouths rested against each other, heavy and open. Eyes moving to and fro over each other’s.

“Been at this too long to start sharing now.”

Your hips moved forward at his words, with the smallest of motions but it was enough to make his cock glide between your lips. His expression was one of immeasurable pleasure regardless of how little the touch.

Deep down you knew you didn’t have time for this sort of behaviour. The kind where you revelled in the nudge of him against your clit, and the way it caused you to gasp lightly while your brow creased and forehead fell against his.

“Take it,” he encouraged as you rolled your hips on him. “Let me in.”

Heavy breathing and shaking hands, you held Harry’s eyes as you reached behind you to take him in your hand.

Wrapping your fingers around his length, you raised yourself, feeling him shuffle down slightly in his seat to help ensure you didn’t bump your head as you lifted. Fingers gave way when he lined up nicely, slipping only his tip inside of you.

This stretch was one like no other. A burn that you savoured as much as the expression that welcomed you from the desire felt by the only man who had ever made you feel this way. His one hand crawled up your back, to cup around your neck, anchoring you to him.

When you were fully seated shaky exhales bounced against each other’s lips. Every tremble of you above him felt so vividly by Harry. The way your thighs shook from the small confines you found yourself in, to the quiver of your fingers against his neck and jaw.

“You’re so big,” your moan was feeble. Embarrassing in many ways. Especially given the amount of times you’d done this with him.

“Mm,” he agreed. “‘S cause ‘m so hot for you. Got me so hard. Always have.”

“Always will-“

“Always will,” he confirmed.

Your moan was thick as it left your throat, his words enough to get you to roll against him and have you clit drag pleasing against his pelvis.

He groaned, knowing that’s what you were doing too. Having been in this position so many times before. No one had ever had you this way, and you knew no one ever would either. A pleasure this giving was one of familiarity. Aided so deeply by feeling.

When your mouth met his again the only word to describe your kiss was sinful. His tongue waiting to meet yours, flicking so easily and far too filthily for those on the cusp of middle age.

But he still had it.

The gleaming boyish gaze and curling smile. Could charm his way into any heart and into any pair of knickers. But the ones he had chosen time and time again were yours. Regardless of their sexiness at times.

“Yes,” you gasped, pulling away from his mouth and feeling his hands encourage the knocking of your hips against his.

You were close, nowhere to go and not wanting to go anywhere. How you had made it here so quickly, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was the surroundings, how you potentially could get caught. Maybe it was because your partner - husband - just knew you so well.

His eyes didn’t want to leave you as they admired the flushed skin you were beginning to show and the gleaming, plush lips that you were rolling into your mouth to hide your pleasure.

“That’s it, fuck me,” his voice was hushed, quick in its delivery. “‘S wha’ it’s all about,” he hummed, as you rocked your hips over his. Knocking his head back against the headrest once more.

As he looked down his nose at you, he watched as your eyes fell to your navel, taking in each roll of your hips. Your expression dropped with realisation, slightly pained. “What’s wrong?”

Looking up at him, you wish you hadn’t. You wished you’d kept your eyes down to see the ripple of his abdomen each time your body flexed around him. That way it wasn’t doused in emotion, it was just raw pleasure that lived in your mind.

“We shouldn’t be doing this anymore. Needs to be the last time.”

A mix of a breathy laugh and scoff left his lips as he urged you to restart your hips that were starting to stall above him, “Bit late for tha’ now, don’t yer think?”

Falling against him, you hid your face feeling his lips over the shell of your ear and against your hair. His hand gently stroked at your hair, lips moving to your temple and pressing affection kisses that did nothing but make you feel worse.

“Do you want t’stop? Mm?” He asked, feeling your hips so tight against his, but your core so open that he hoped you would say no. Widening his thighs he pressed his feet into the footwell, seeking momentum to meet your hips with his own.

“‘S okay to love me still,” he groused, feeling your chin tremble from his words. “‘S okay to let me love you still. This is okay, us just doing this is okay.”

It wasn’t okay and he knew. He also knew everything he was saying - every single word - was just a way to satiate you.

So, you let them. Swallowed the lump in your throat and inhaled deeply.

His words were cut short as he groaned, “Sit up for me, fuck me properly.”

Sitting yourself up, you felt the way Harry’s hands moved so that the backs of his fingers were smoothing against your lower stomach. Sweaty palm turned, he pressed it gently down your stomach and let his thumb finger your clit.

The softest frown hit your brow, as his thumb slowly rubbed in a downwards motion at your sensitivity. From his actions you felt a warmth pool around both him and you, Harry groaning appreciatively as he felt it too.

“Yeah,” he stressed the word as you gripped at his t-shirt which sat against his stomach. Cotton in handfuls as you scrunched the fabric. “‘S tha’ nice- good?”

You nodded.

“‘S it enough?”

You nodded with more fervour. Eyes holding his as you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and scratched along his right forearm as he continued to gently swipe at your wet clit.

The abruptness of the rock to your hips showed itself as the warmth within your belly grew. Eyes now hooded, you were unable to stop them from closing as your mouth parted to desperately say, “Don’t stop.”

And you didn’t know who you were talking to; yourself or Harry.

Harry responded with a moan so deep that you clenched down around him, causing his free hand to reach up and squeeze harshly against your hips.

“‘M going to come so hard for you ‘f you keep doing that,” he gritted, breathing shallow as he felt his chest constrict. “Like tha’, just like that.”

His words were low, and like just moments before you weren’t sure if they were for him or you, but they had you moaning his name. Head dropping against his, his hand gripping at the back of your neck.

With one hard roll of your hips, you cried out, forehead against his chin and mouth fallen. His hand squashed between your bodies as you shook and convulsed.

Pliant for him, you were too dazed to move as you felt his arm wrap securely around your back and hold you to him, tight.

A merciless and repeated smack of his hips upwards, which you were sure would have the car rocking, made you aware of him seeking his release. He moaned your name, as he pulled you down to him, his orgasm shooting into you.

His heavy breathing was hot against your sweltering skin when you finally came to, his grunts melding into your neck as your core continued to flutter in the aftermath of your own release.

His hands somewhat selfishly and most definitely greedily moved you against him, both crooning at the sensitive rush that met you before he lifted you to aid himself with slipping out.

Cold air met his sensitivity, as he nuzzled against you. Hand crawling up your back, under your shirt and feeling your damp skin peel away from his own as he moved his hand up and down.

“Want to try out the back wi’me after this,” he hummed, brushing your hair off your face with his other hand. His words were heavy as they pressed into the skin of your cheek while he still tried to catch his breath.

As much as you knew you should, you didn’t even try to stop yourself from nodding.

***

Looking forward to hearing all of your thoughts! x

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x y/n #my writing #divorce!harry

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crystalas · 3 years

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Hind Sight

This is both inspired and a sort of prequel to Starfics’ answer to my prompt, I loved the idea of it so much that I started a Demon Bull Divorce AU, have fun!

Hindsight

Like a lot of things in hindsight MK could see that this was a very dumb idea.

It was a spur of the moment idea that came to him and Mei as they saw Red Son in the garage with his signature jacket hanging up because said fire demon was currently up to his elbows in tuk-tuk engine bits.

Red Son had just shown up at the noodle store one day declaring that he was there to ‘pay off his father’s debt’ after the whole lunar new year event. Everyone was a bit suspicious at first but Mei and MK decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, after all they knew he wasn’t all evil. True to his word he helped out with fixing stuff and had offered to upgrade the Tuk-tuk, after a few weeks they had managed to convince him to hang out with them after work as well.

That day MK had figured out how to shrink himself and after showing Mei she grinned and suggested they surprise Red Son with it.

Which was the aforementioned very dumb idea.

Said idea was for MK to shrink himself and then have Mei put him in Red Son’s jacket pocket, and when Red Son put it back on, have Mei ask the fire demon if he has seen MK and when he said no ask him to check his pockets…boom! Itty MK!

So, the joke was set, a shrunk MK in place and Mei was now walking up to Red Son as he clambered out of the Tuk-Tuk’s mechanical guts wiping away the grease from his hands.

“Hey Red boy” she beamed.

“Hey dragon horse girl” he said back as he got up.

“Have you seen MK?”

“No but I need to show him how to operate the upgrades…” he began but stopped when he looked at the clock on the garage wall, his smile dissolved into mild panic.

“Is that the time?!” he yelped and rushed past Mei grabbing his coat, igniting his hands to burn off all the grease and oil that had clung to him still and began to make a move for the door. “I’m sorry I need to get home tonight, tell Noodle boy I’ll show him tomorrow, okay?” Red Son yammered quickly.

“Red wait!” Mei cried as he vanished into a swirl of fire.

“Did you check your pockets?” she whimpered sheepishly.

MK felt like he was in a weird fair ground ride, cushioned in fabric and being swung around like on a rollercoaster; it was kind of fun. Not to mention he found a wrapped candy in here and at his current size it was as big as a pillow! He could hear Mei and Red Son talking and waited for his que but then things got very bumpy and then felt very hot and weird for a second as he felt his whole body move in a way that shouldn’t be possible for him before the background ambience of the city suddenly died into a hushed sound of far-off clanking and whirring.

He poked his head out of the pocket to see he was now in an old Chinese style mansion but it was underground and hewn from the rock itself, the walls were adorned with demon Bull family heirlooms and pictures all showing the grand history of the conquering demon clan. MK could hear Red Son muttering to himself.

“I’ve got enough time to check on the projects and get in my best clothes…did I remember to check the repair schedule for the clones?”

MK was about to poke out of the pocket and announce himself when Red Son stopped by a large door that seemed to lead to a main hall, he seemed to hesitate near the entrance as MK and no doubt Red Son could hear angry raised voices.

“How is it I was the one stuck under a mountain but you are the one stuck in the past?” Demon Bull King demanded.

“I am thinking of our legacy and heritage, things you seem keen to throw away!” Princess Iron Fan retorted.

“Our pursuit of power has only brought us trouble!” came the angry reply “We need to move with the times!”

“Listen to you!” Princess Iron Fan screeched “You sound that useless son of ours!”

MK poked out of the pocket and looked up at Red Son who looked forlorn but not surprised as he carried on past the door his shoulders hunched over as he hurried through. Red Son came to a kitchen that seemed big enough to feed a whole court full of people but it was sadly empty and hollow except for one corner where a bull clone was currently working at a stove top. It saw Red Son and bowed respectively.

“I don’t think family meal time will be happening tonight” Red Son declared “so I will be taking my evening meal in my room…again…” the bull clone nodded and got back to preparing said meal. Red Son continued walking through the vacant halls as the vicious shouting ebbed away to quiet muffled sounds. He came to his room and sat at his desk; MK looked around to see his room unlike the rest of the castle had a bit of life to it. There were posters of car designs and movie mechs adorning the walls, a work table filled with small cabinets of tools and gear and what looked to be a shelf filled with scrolls and old tomes. MK had wondered why someone as tidy as Red Son would have what looked to be an arranged pile of tinfoil and fabric in a corner of his room before he realised that must his bed. He remembered Pigsy saying how some demons prefer nests to human style beds.

Okay I really need to show myself before things get even more awkward MK decided and he started to climb out but froze when he heard the door open, Red Son turned to see his mother glaring at him and MK quickly dived back into the safety concealment of the jacket.

“You’ve ruined him” she hissed, and MK could feel Red Son flinch. “Your father was a proud mighty demon King who conquered whole armies alone and made the heavens fear him and now looked at what you have done!”

“Isn’t this better?” Red Son said quietly “I mean…this way we won’t have to worry about him being hurt or sealed… aah!” came the pain gasped as MK could hear a very sharp and painful smack, MK grabbed the fabric of the pocket as Red Son’s whole body violently jerked to the side.

“Be quiet you worthless whelp!” she snarled “I kept our family name safe and proud for centuries and in one year you’ve weakened your father, the great Demon Bull King to the point that he wants to ‘settle down peacefully’!” she said the last bit dripping with venom and MK wished for Red Son to speak up or say something or at the very least move from where he was sitting but he didn’t.

“I’m sorry mother…” was all he managed after a moment of silence.

“Sorry doesn’t undo what you have done!” she spat and MK listened to the sound of her shoes moving away, “Sometimes I wish you had never returned!” she exclaimed coldly before shutting the door.

The fabric around him lurched as Red Son moved and he could feel energy pulse around him like the sky before lightning struck, it was only then did MK realised how dumb this idea really was. Red Son ignites into flames when upset or angry and it’s pretty obvious his clothes are fire proof to deal with that.

MK wasn’t fire proof…

MK made a mad scramble out of the pocket and leapt away just in time for a massive inferno engulfed where he had been hiding and everything else around it. He landed on the cold stone floor and patted himself down to make sure nothing was on fire and once he was sure he wasn’t smouldering he looked back up at the crackling fire ball that was his friend. Red Son still hadn’t moved from the desk but was now hunched over it his hands clawing into his fiery hair his eyes tightly shut but flames still leaked out and his whole body was shuddering as he tried to control his breathing.

MK decided that maybe he should give the fire demon with known anger issues some time to breathe and started to make his way to hide in the nest till he seemed to have calmed down but as he tiptoed his way across the room Red Son sensed the movement. The fire evaporating into the air as Red Son turned around and scanned the room, he glanced down to see a tiny MK in mid sneak.

Red Son looked at MK confused.

MK looked at Red Son worried.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Heh heh …Ta da!” MK said weakly and held out his hands as if to show off “Look what I can do now!”

“Noodle boy?” Red Son muttered quietly as his brain tried to fathom him being there before it clicked that he was and what that might imply. “How long have you been here?” he asked a look of dread falling on his face.

“Oh pssh!” MK tried to dismiss “Not long…no not long at all!”

“Noodle boy” Red Son growled, “How long?”

“… … …” MK struggled to come up with a decent excuse before sighing and returning to his full size, if they were going to have this talk he wanted to be able to look him in face. “Since you made a mad dash out of the garage…”

Red Son gave a groan and covered his face before returning to slump on the desk.

“I know this is going to sound dumb but is everything ok?” MK inquired, “I don’t know how demon families work but that…didn’t sound good.”

“Everything’s fine Noodle boy!” Red Son declared sharply, “My parents are just…going through a rough patch, that is all!”

“A rough patch huh?” MK muttered before walking over to the desk and lightly touching Red Son’s face where the red mark showing where his mother had slapped him was now fading away. How many times had that happened and no one knew thanks to demon healing powers? Red Son batted his hand away and snarled angrily.

“Yes!” he snapped and glared at his desk.

Things were clicking into place in MK’s mind, in hind sight he should have wondered why Red Son showed up out of the blue and wanted to pay off some demon debt, why he had wanted to stay around them as long as possible and even agreed to hang out in the evenings and only on certain days [apparently for family meal times] would he actually go home before anyone else.

MK remembered in the first week of Red Son coming over, Pigsy finally gave in and let Red Son help by telling him to try and get his old tricky stove working again. Red Son had not only fixed it but cleaned it up and gave it a full work through and when he was finished the thing looked and worked as if brand new. Pigsy in his joy of getting his stove back to its prime for free patted Red Son on the back and declared he had paid back the debt in spades.

MK had wondered that day why Red Son had looked so upset but had dismissed it when a moment later the fire demon had gone on a tirade about how insulting it was that Pigsy thought his father’s life was worth only an afternoon of labour.

Maybe Pigsy and Tang had cottoned on a lot sooner than he had because after that they would always find little things for Red Son to do to ‘pay back the debt’.

“Red Son” Mk said as these thoughts mulled in his mind “Was there even a debt to pay off?”

Red Son turned to face him, he fidgeted with his hands for a few moments before sighing.

“I…I…I thought you would be more at ease if you thought that I was honoured bound to behave…”

“Why didn’t you just say something?”

“Like what?!” Red Son retorted “Please may I come over here because I rather spend my days with my enemies rather than my parents because they’re constantly fighting and I can’t do anything to fix it?!” Red Son jaw snapped shut and his hair flared up angrily. “Because they don’t! Fight all the time…I mean…” he exclaimed as he tried to back pedal out of the conversation.

MK watched Red Son and felt a wave of pity come over for him, it was like looking into a mirror of seven years ago. He could almost feel the emotions Red Son must be going through right now, the uncertainty of what was going to happen next, the guilt of not being able to stop it, that gnawing anxiety of thinking if he was to blame somehow. And that horrible cold fear of knowing that sooner or later one of them will be coming up to take their frustration out on someone who won’t fight back…

He thanked the gods regularly that he was fortunate enough that it was Pigsy that caught him dump diving behind his store, how different would his life had been if Pigsy and Tang hadn’t taken him in? He probably had starved to death on the streets that winter.

“Everything was supposed to get better when Father came back…” Red Son muttered to himself but was jolted back into the room as MK put his hands on his shoulders.

“Your parents are going through some stuff right now, so do you want to hang out at my place while they work it out?”

“What?” Red Son spluttered.

“Maybe they just need some space I dunno” MK said, “but what your mom did was not okay, and I’m worried about you”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends you dummy!” MK laughed “and friends help each other even without demon debts to pay!”

Red Son stood up and pulled out a duffle bag from his wardrobe, he started to fill it with clothes, a stuff bull toy that looked to be antique and over-night necessities.

“You seem to have experience with this sort of thing” Red Son ventured quietly as MK helped him put his tools away in a box for travel.

“Let’s just say I’ve been where you are” MK said softly.

“In your experienced opinion…will me not being here helped my parents to reconcile?”

MK swallowed a hard lump in his throat, he didn’t know if it helped with his parents because he ran away from home and as far as he knows they never came looking for him. Mk was on the streets for three weeks before that fated night at Pigsy’s and it’s been seven years since then and he’s only ever caught a glimpse of them while during his deliveries on the streets.

“Sure, they will” MK answered with a smile “I hope so!”

Red Son left a note telling his parents exactly where he was and how to contact him before they left.

MK wasn’t all that surprised when after explaining the situation Pigsy happen to have a spare fold out bed in the store room.

#monkie kid red son #monkie kid mk #demon bull divorce AU #red son

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steve0discusses · 3 years

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Yugioh Season Zero: The Yo-Yo Crimes of Jounouchi Pt 1

It’s been a while since I visited the many times Yugi should have gone to jail, AKA season Zero, and I’m excited to visit it again.

If you just got here, this is Season Zero, which is very different vibe and a different direction plotwise than the other seasons and you can read the season zero recaps from the start in chrono order here: https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yuugi%20muto/chrono

So be warned, this is a 90′s anime, and it will do 90′s anime things, and I expect y’all reading this aren’t like 12.

Like I said in an earlier post, I wrote this out fully when I was going through the symptoms from my second dose--which PS, is worth it--but those symptoms knocked me out for 10 days. I was kind of a space cadet, and yo, I made some mistakes. Including writing this post out in full and then not clicking “save” on this post and then not realizing I had done that until several days later.

So long story short, I don’t remember what I originally wrote here, but lets all assume it was weird, and didn’t make sense and wasn’t funny. We’ll just assume this was for the best that it was deleted forever.

So this episode is about 2 things: Yo-yos and Jounouchi. Both get used as a tool for violence, and both need to get just a little bit cursed by Yugi to scale it the hell back. So, understandably, we start off this episode with Jounouchi, who has eagerly identified with this off brand yo-yo he apparently got out of a dumpster for being just a huge ass defect.

(more Yo-Yo crimes under the cut)

I see you dodging copyright infringement, Yugioh. Eireboy.

Also whenever I read “Eireboy” I do it in my mind in the same pacing and vocal tones that Pegasus uses to say “Kaiba boy.” Something about it’s conjunction to Yugioh, I see anything with “boy” at the end of it, and it’s voiced by a weird guy with one eye.

So I wrote these caps under the influence of my second dose, just assuming y’all understand the life I lived, but I realized writing this episode...traveling bands of yo-yo performers that go to your school and shill yo-yos with yo-yo shows in the hopes that it will get you so obsessed with yo-yos that you will not join a gang and do drugs and have sex may be just an American thing.

So when I saw a yo-yo episode I was like “Tight! Clearly, the yo-yo clowns have come to town!” and I assumed everyone in this class would be draped in yo-yos, because I just assumed that at some point at School you will get MAD OBSESSED with yo-yos for about 2 weeks.

But in this episode, everyone was like “Jounouchi, why are you playing with a random yo-yo?” and it didn’t occur to me until typing this out just now: only Jounouchi is doing this. He did this unprompted, without the encouragement of a bunch of middle aged performers doing tricks to techno music.

So instead, I have to think of Jounouchi as Ralphie in this scenario, and he just got a official Red Ryder, carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle, with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time for Christmas, but he’s gonna shoot his eye out.

Because yo-yos in this episode are basically guns.

...Kind of like a duel deck was also just a gun...

...or the wands in Harry Potter...

...which honestly...I’ve probably said this before but where I’m from, we just use straight up guns in these elaborate analogies because we freakin have to make the point crystal clear. The moment Ralphie finally got his hands on a bb-gun, he very nearly shot his eye out and broke his glasses. And that scene will haunt me until my dying day...

...but fine, we can use yo-yos, I guess it works, although to me, yo-yo’s are just teachers hoping you’ll become such a dork that no gang will accept you (and then in this universe, it does the opposite? So freakin weird).

The beginning of this episode is Jounouchi trying do his best to impress with his skills, but in actuality, getting very close to clubbing Anzu with a yo-yo. And, while Anzu is the strongest person in Yugioh in the later seasons, I feel like Season Zero Anzu is another level. It’s a serious tempt of fate that Jounouchi is doing, so Honda wisely cuts him off from doing any more of that so she won’t end up strangling yet another person in broad daylight in the middle of school.

Remember your yo-yo safety, children.

Straight up, Honda’s version of yo-yo safety is to just Never Use a Yo-Yo and that’s the most gun safety thing ever that they’ve slipped into this Yugioh Episode. I almost expected Yuugi to pull a “well, actually, I use a hunting yo-yo to get enough venison to feed my family.” But youknow, he lives in a city, so while Yugioh is pretty weird and Yuugi has to worry about a lot of things--he doesn’t have to worry about that.

This is actually foreshadowing, which I only realized in hind sight, mostly because I just can’t associate a Yo-yo with crime. Joey knowing how to use a yo-yo was foreshadowing that he was absolutely part of this gang in a past life.

Yeah that one went completely over my head the first time and the second time and it really wasn’t until just now that I finally caught it. Hoo boy, sometimes I wonder why y’all let me analyze this show.

Jounouchi decides to confront the yo-yo bandits and everyone else is like “Silly Jounouchi, he’s not gonna do that. That would be stupid.” And...in S0, they don’t know him well enough yet to know that he really is that much of a well meaning dumbass.

I think a S1-5 Yugi would have been sprinting out the door to keep Joey from killing himself (again), but Season Zero Yuugi had hope that Jounouchi would just naturally tucker out and fall asleep or something.

And he was so wrong.

Anzu’s “New Tricks” line was from the dub itself and man that’s a good line. I love Anzu’s sass in Zero.

So, Honda decides to help them find Jounouchi so all of them together could give Jounouchi an intervention for skipping school. This is the same Honda that once skipped school to babysit a tomagachi and said it was because of “Maternity leave,” but don’t worry about the hypocrisy, because from this episode we learned that Jounouchi needs a very short leash.

So this episode is a great Jounouchi episode to explain stuff that still hasn’t been explained in 5 seasons of Yugioh. In S1-5, we don’t get much about his home life other than his Mom left and his Sister lives far away and is like sickly as hell. We know nothing else. But this is the episode where we finally get to find out why Yuugi and his Grandfather decided to basically adopt him from S1 onward.

Yugioh is tackling some pretty heavy territory, but I respect the show for not trying to magically change Jounouchi’s parents like they did to Dartz. Instead, the crew decide to reach out and try to find their friend who clearly didn’t go home last night (and won’t be going back for a while), by checking every alleyway in Domino.

Fun fact Yuugi drops this episode, Domino is one of the biggest cities on Earth. This makes the Battle City Tournament even more crazy when you realize Kaiba shut down several blocks but, it also makes a tiny bit more sense how we have so many Millennium items in one place. (Yet...it still doesn’t explain Bakura and Joey’s accent.) And, I guess if your city is just extra large, you get an extra large warehouse district, too.

Speaking of, they eventually find Jounouchi at his new (but also old) crime antics mugging some random stranger next to this Game store that I just realized was cropped so it looks like it says “GANG.”

Say hello to our crime clown. He’s sort of like a discount joker, and that beanie is...man it is green.

I forget this green exists sometimes, but Season Zero has it as one of their prime colors. Good ol’ Retro Kaiba green.

I’m a little tempted to swatch Season Zero a bit and figure out their full color scheme--it’s really saturated, which is interesting when you compare it to the later seasons which are a lot more muted since...the 00′s were like that, they greyed a lot of colors out. But I’ll do it later if I do, maybe another post for another day.

Jounouchi and Honda, before they moved to the school with Yuugi in it, used to go to the same school and up until now I just assumed they were close friends. But apparently they were a lot more distant than that. I’m sure they met up several times as Jounouchi destroyed stuff and Honda came along in his volunteer janitor outfit to put the stuff the hell back, and maybe that’s how they got to know eachother better?

But basically, Jounouchi was the freakin worst, and Jounouchi’s best friend was Hirotani--this 45 year old 15 year old with the blue pony and turquoise fade--and Honda has SO MUCH hot goss to say about it.

I really get the gist that Honda may not have liked anyone else at his old school, like at all. Like maybe Honda likes cleaning up trash so much because his school was just trash top to bottom.

As is tradition, Yuugi got his tar beat in by Hirotani. Another concussion to add to his list of issues to tell his future therapist that lives in that puzzle he wears around his neck.

I still expect him to do a double cross, but it seems they wanted to keep it a relatable and more realistic fall-out, where Jounouchi has just bounced on them without even a goodbye. He and his Dad had a bad fight, and Jounouchi was like “well so long to all of this and everyone that has anything to do with it.”

In later seasons, Joey is the one trying to save other people. He’s saving his Sister, he’s saving Mai, he’s saving Yugi, but in this season Jounouchi’s friends had to save Jounouchi from himself a few times now.

I like this depth to his character, I’ll be honest. I can understand why S1-5 don’t touch on it, and I don’t think it’s because they didn’t want to have an abusive Dad storyline, because they did that several times over with Seto Kaiba (man the Dad situation in Yugioh is DIRE.) Instead they probably just felt like Season Zero already did it, so why do it again?

It’s just a shame that it wasn’t talked about in the other seasons. Joey makes a lot more sense to me now because we get to see why Jounouchi is so hard set on saving people. S4 Mai Valentine, who ditched everyone and joined a gang? That’s basically a Joey move, and that was why Joey Wheeler was all over that.

Really would have added a lot to that particular arc if the show...actually talked about Joey’s history at all rather than assume I would have watched something that was never released in the States. Instead...it just looked a lot like he had only romantic motivations, which may not have been what they were going for.

Speaking of romantic, check out this sunset. Like the sun is exploding for some reason--just a wild sunset you only see for a still frame before a commercial break.

As Joey, youknow, takes on an entire rival gang single-handedly.

Hey guys, I lived near a pretty big city most of my life and I have been on a roof...once. Just the one time when I was doing an internship in SF with a painter and we needed to take a reference photo of his painting for a gallery (and it was hella sketch, and we weren’t exactly allowed up there). Who are all these people giving teens Roof Access? It’s so hard to get! Even if you live in an apartment of a tall building, I can count on zero of my fingers the amount of times I was allowed on that roof. But TV shows and movies--they freakin love roof gardens and roof hangouts and roof fights.

Am I missing out?? How did y’all get on the ROOF? I know I’m on S5 of Yugioh now and I have seen a lot of roof stuff, but like...is this normal for everyone else? I know there’s schools that have roof sport--that’s common in the city everywhere--but that’s like...specialized roofs with 30 ft chainlink fencing and really good supports to your body doesn’t fall straight through it when you jump too much. The hell is using their normal ass roof?

This gang should have their legs swinging halfway into the floor below them, is all I’m saying, if my roof couldn’t handle our solar heating, then a normal ass roof cannot support a gang fight.

But it does look really, really cool.

Anyway, Anzu does some offscreen snooping and finds out where the crime hangs out, and suggests that we step right into crime zone and just yank Jounouchi out of there. Which is something you would only do and say if you were Anzu and cannot fear death.

If it were Jay’s it would be with an ‘s. That’s how you do a plural Jay. But it’s the 90′s, so we put a “z” on the end of everything that should have been an “s” and that’s how you get the...

I mean, thank you, dubbers, for not saying “Jizz” but for reals...that be Jizz.

Please don’t flag me, Tumblr. (which, PS, I think they turned off the flagbot, Tumblr hasn’t flagged me in forever and I’m so thankful. Mods are asleep, we can talk about anime again)

So even though Honda decided that he was fed up with Jounouchi and didn’t want to save his ass, he decided to give it another go but complete with some new sash. He also did this without telling any of the others, who just kinda spectated him for a little while.

Honestly, if they weren’t laughing at him, I wouldn’t have known that this sash was any weirder than any of his other sashes. I don’t know really know what a school uniform should look like. It’s a shame, I feel like this series has a lot of jokes and puns probably soaring right over my head.

A little bit embarrased he was caught being vulnerable, Honda decides to give us a little more context to why he ever decided to give Jounouchi the time of day in the first place.

They had PE class once, and Honda apparently loves the hell out of PE. Jounouchi ran really fast in a straight line that one time, and that is why he’s trustworthy friend material. He just needs to stop joining gangs, and he’ll be solid.

I have no idea if the fandub put that in there or if that was native to the show, but Miho legit stans Honda/Jounouchi and acts as if she’s off to write some fanfiction about it. Honestly if she did, it would make her so much more interesting of a character.

And so, until next time, we shall have to wait and see exactly what Yami Yuugi is going to do with a freakin Yo-yo and I’m sure it’s all sorts of real effed up. Excited to get there, honestly. A shame it had to happen on the part that isn’t dubbed yet, but I’ve done these subbed before, it’ll be fine!

#Season Zero #Yuugi Muto #Jounouchi #Honda #Anzu #yo-yo #Jounouchi joins a gang #Gotta go save Jounouchi's ass I guess #Miho #she was here too I guess #Just a great Jounouchi episode for the Jounouchi stans out there

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marvelsimp · 3 years

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THE NEW KID: Landing

THE NEW KID MASTERLIST Ch. 3

Genre: Fluff Pairing: Peter x Lesbian!reader (Platonic duh), Avengers & Reader Warnings: swearing, Description: Reader has just joined the Avengers so they decide to throw her a birthday party. Reader’s Powers: Healing, telepathy, and empath. Word Count: 2,737

“Peter! You got me into the avengers!” you scream whacking your best friend with a pillow.

“You’re welcome!” he laughs shielding his face from oncoming attacks. You end up tackling him causing him to land on his bed. “Why are you attacking me? This is so RUDE!”

“HAHA! Too bad.”

“STOP. STOP” he laughs causing you to stop almost instantly. He sits up and looks at the clock, it reads ‘3:57’. “How about we go back down to the game floor we can play some more laser tag or mess around with the VR stuff?”

“Sure but didn’t you say earlier that you wanted to show me the lab?”

“I forgot about that!” he stood up and reached his hand out to help you get up, you accept. Peter leads you out of his room at Avenger’s Tower to go to the elevator then up to the lab. “So, this is it!” he says taking you up some stairs.

The space is huge, where you just entered from is where the Quinjet lands, where the med lab is, and where the avengers keep their gear for missions. As you walk up the stairs you see several platforms and ‘bridges.’ To your right you see a platform full of tools and stations cluttered with different projects.

“Most of its taken up by Mr. Stark,” Peter explains, “He’s constantly working on upgrading and improving all of our suits.” He leads you towards the back of the area, “This is where I usually work. I’m usually the one to work on my suit, especially during breaks. I’m trying to figure out a way to improve the capacity of my web-shooters.”

You nod, Pete lets you look at his formulas and blueprints. You give him a handful of suggestions and ask him a few questions. He listens intently to each suggestion and question. He then has a quick ‘aha’ moment and writes a few things down for later. You can’t believe that you now get to help him with this stuff in person.

“Oh,” he says suddenly. He points to an empty part of the lab next to him. “This is your station, you can put anything there and use any of the tools, under supervision. Mr. Stark isn’t a big fan of us being up here without him or Dr. Banner but he made an exception for today.”

“Wait… slow down.”

Peter looks up at you, he’s slightly confused.

“I get to work up here, in the Avenger’s lab?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “What did you not understand about the part that you’re an Avenger now?”

“I don’t know… I guess that it just didn’t click.” You look around the space trying to figure out what you’ll do. You then remember some of the old projects that you had to scrap because you didn’t the resources, you’ll probably have to start from scratch… wait your stuff is here. You let out a gasp and your eyes get a little wider. You almost run out to get your old blueprints but Peter grabs your wrists.

“Y/n, slow down. Where are you going?”

“Sorry, I got ahead of myself. I just remembered that I have my old blueprints still and that I can work on that stuff here.”

He smiles at you, he’s happy you can feel it off of him. That was the first time since you got to New York that you had felt pure joy and he could feel it, too. His smile shrinks a little, “Like I said Mr. Stark doesn’t really like us up here without someone with us.” You nodded in understanding.

“Now let me actually take you to the med lab, I think that Dr. Cho will want to meet you.” He took you back down the stairs and opened the doors to the Med Lab. Dr. Cho was sitting down busy at work looking through some papers and looking at something on the screen in front of her. “Dr. Cho.”

She looked up from her work and looked at Peter then at you. Her eyes grew wide, “Oh, I completely forgot.” She stood up walking over to you and reaching her hand out. You accepted it shaking her hand, “I’m Y/n.”

“Yes,” she smiled, “Stark told me about you and your powers. I’d love to do some testing later once you’re settled.”

“I’d love that too. I’ve done a little bit of testing on my own, but I’d love to learn my limits.”

She nodded, she seemed excited. “I have to get back to my work now, but I will see you later.”

You and Peter exited the lab then went back down to the game floor as you had planned earlier. You both walked down the hallway and entered the game room. In one of the corners was Steve and Bucky, Bucky was hunched over on an old arcade version of Mortal Combat while Steve had his hand on the brunette’s back and he was laughing his ass off at the stern face of the “tinman.” Steve almost instantly turned around when you and peter entered but he couldn’t stop his laughing quite as quickly.

You smiled and waved at them. You turned to Peter, “What do you wanna play?”

“Smash Bros?”

“Minecraft?”

‘You always want to play Minecraft,” he whined.

‘And you always want to play Smash Bros!”

He gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could.

“Fine!” you laughed

“Yes!” Peter quickly set up the game.

“FINISH HIM” you could hear from the old Mortal Combat Bucky was playing.

You took that as your cue, “Do you guys want to join us?”

Steve looked a little surprised, he turned to Bucky waiting for his answer. “Sure, how do you play?” he and Steve walked over and joined you and Peter on the large couch.

“It’s kind of like Mortal Combat.” You went on to explain the game and gave recommendations as to who they should pick.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed after losing to the two super-soldiers who had never even played the game before today.

“Language,” Steve said nonchalantly.

“Sorry” you squeaked out.

Steve’s eyes widened realizing his mistake, he said it out of habit assuming it was Bucky who said it. Bucky let out an earth-shattering laugh. While you were mortified that you had screamed ‘fuck’ in front of some of the Avengers not once but twice in one day. Once Bucky stopped laughing and caught his breath he turned to Peter, “Do you curse this much? I swear I’ve never even heard you say ‘crap.’” He did, just not in front of the avengers. Peter’s whole face had turned red causing Bucky to laugh again.

“Sorry, Y/n,” Steve said over Bucky’s continual laughing.

“What are you saying sorry for?”

“I thought it was Buck who said it so out of habit I said ‘language.’”

You smiled, “You don’t mind me-“

“Of course not.” Steve looked at his watch and then turned to Bucky who had finally stopped laughing, “Buck, maybe it’s time we head up.”

“It was nice playing with you guys,” you smiled.

“Yeah, we’ll have to do it again,” said Bucky.

“You’re an Avenger now, doll. Plenty of game nights.” Steve smiled walking out the door.

“Bye.”

Peter stood up. “Do yooou wanna play in VR?”

“Yes!”

“I know we’ve only been on this for half an hour but do you wanna grab some food?” Peter asked you.

“Umm, sure I could use some food.”

You and Peter walked back to the elevator taking it back up to the communal living space. As the elevator rose you felt the excitement rise not only in Peter but in some people on the floor you were headed to. When the doors opened it was darker than last time then you heard “SURPRISE” being shouted at you from all over the room and the lights turned back on. You jumped back a little then erupted into giggles. Directly in front of you were Ned, MJ, and May. While the Avengers were spread around the room, which included some of those that weren’t at lunch. There was a large banner on the wall that read “Happy 17th Birthday, Y/n!” There were streamers and balloons everywhere, along with some confetti that was spread along the ground. “Happy Birthday!” Ned, MJ, and May said in unison all grouping together for a group hug that caused you to giggle once more.

“Thank you.”

Peter grabbed your hand and led you over to a group of people near the dining table. There was Pepper Potts with a little girl holding onto her hand, with a man, woman, and a teen girl that was maybe a year or two younger than you and Peter. Pepper was the first to notice the two of you so she turned and smiled at you grabbing the others' attention.

“Hi,” you said looking back over the group.

“I’m Hope,” said the brunette woman reaching her hand out.

You recognized her but couldn’t remember how and as you shook her hand you let out a slight gasp, “Pym?”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

“Sorry, I’m way too invested into sciency things.”

The man next to her let out a chuckle, “I’m Scott.” He gently put his hand onto the teen next to him, “and this is my daughter Cassie.”

She smiled at you, “Hi.”

“Hi.” You were kinda confused as to who these people were, relating to the Avengers.

Peter whispered in your ear, “Think about it,” it was like he was the telepath.

After a second or two of staring at them, you let out, “Oh! You’re Wasp and Ant-man.” Neither one of them were known to the public as that but they were the only masculine and feminine pair, so it made sense. Hope let out a, “Yeah” while Scott just grinned impressed. You finally turned to the woman you were very excited to meet, the CEO of Stark Industries.

“I’m Pepper,” she went for a hug that you accepted. Once you were released from the hug she put her hand on the shoulder of the little girl hiding behind her. “This is Morgan, Tony and I’s daughter.”

You kneeled to be at the girl’s eye level, “Hi, I’m Y/n.”

“Hi,” she said in the quietest voice possible.

You just smiled and stood back up. “It’s an honor to meet you all,” you said turning to each one in the small group, “I can’t believe that I’m even here.”

“Don’t worry,” Scott said, “We’re still getting used to it.” Hope nodded in agreement.

Thank god, that eased your anxieties a little. “Come on, Y/n. There are still more people you gotta meet.” He led you across the room where Tony and Colonel Rhodes, aka War Machine, were talking, Col. Rhodes seemed annoyed. As you walked you passed Bruce, Sam, Bucky, and Steve who waved as you walked by. Bruce stepped forward, “Hey, Y/n!”

You stopped and turned to him.

“Thor wanted to tell you sorry that he couldn’t make it, ya know family business. And he wanted me to tell you ‘Happy Birthday’ from him and Loki.” You smiled and laughed at the “and Loki” part. “Tell them ‘Thank you and that I understand. Oh, and that I wish him luck with his brother’”. Bruce chuckled at your response. He turned and returned to his group while you continued to follow Peter.

“Come on, Tony, another teenager,” you could barely hear Col. Rhodes say.

Tony just saw you two walking towards them, he pointed his head at you which caused Col. Rhodes’ demeanor to change almost instantly.

“Hey,” Tony said smirking at you and Peter, “How you feeling?”

“Uhh, I’m still in stock,” you laugh rubbing your neck.

“Don’t worry, kid, that will wear off.”

“I’m Rhodey by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“I won’t be able to stay for long I was told about this morning. I wasn’t even told there was a possibility of a new Avenger until then either,” he looked annoyingly at Tony.

“Oh, I... don’t worry it’s an honor just meeting you guys.”

“Y/n,” yelled Wanda who was over in the kitchen.

“Well, that’s me,” you commented pointing your thumb towards the kitchen.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Yeah, Happy Birthday, kid.”

You and Peter headed to the kitchen.

“That was kinda tense,” whispered Peter in your ear.

You nod in agreement as you enter. Wanda is standing next to the counter eating some chips with Nat and a man you recognize as Hawkeye. But more importantly, you spot some brownies. You quickly grab one, “Hey.” Wanda smiles and hugs you before you sit on one of the stools.

“Hey, Y/n/n, adjusted yet?” Nat joked.

“Nowhere close,” you breathe out.

Nat elbowed the man standing next to her. “I’m Clint.” He put a fist over the chip bowl.

You let out a chuckle and returned the fist bump. “You’re Hawkeye, right?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at the codename.

You continue to eat the brownie and happily smile at your best friend. He takes a seat next to you and spins your chair as you take the last bite of it. When you look up, there she is Captain Marvel with a gift bag in her hand. You choke on the brownie spitting it out in your hand then throwing it away. Peter looks up in concern at you, you simply point at her and he erupts in laughter. Nat, Clint, and Wanda were first concerned when you choked on your food but are now very confused. You turn around away from the center of the room, putting your face in your hands.

“Y/n, you okay?” Wanda asks.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out.

Clint throws a chip at Peter, “Bug, explain.”

Peter calms down. “Y/n has a hu-“ he corrects himself, “is a huge fan of Carol.”

Nat catches on instantly, the other two don’t but are accepting of the answer.

“Peter!” you say shoving him almost causing him to fall from his chair, but he holds on to the seat. “You’re a fucking psychopath,” you whisper angrily in his ear, “Are you trying to kill me?” He laughs looking behind you, so you turn around and to your surprise, Captain Marvel is right behind you. You open your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Y/n.exe has stopped working.

Reboot?

Rebooting.

Peter gives you a little shaking you a little. “Earth to Y/n,” he whispers in your ear. Everyone, EVERYONE takes note of this. Some understanding your behavior instantly while others put it down as you just being a “big fan.”

“Hi,” you blush.

“Hi,” Captain Marvel smiles at you.

“I, um, I’m a, I’m Y/n,” you finally stutter out.

“I’m Carol,” she smirks. You put your hand out for her to shake but instead of returning the handshake, she puts the gift bag she was holding into your hand. “Peter told me you were a big fan, so I got you something.”

You smile and hit Peter for telling her. “Thank you,” you barely get out as she walks away.

“Hey!” you hear from across the room. “Since everyone’s met Y/n let’s sing happy birthday!” you finally recognize the voice to be Tony’s, “Head to the Dining table!”

You’re still standing there stunned, “Did that just happen?”

“Yes,” Peter says grabbing your arm, “Now let’s get some cake.”

Peter leads you to the Dining Table and then to a cupcake tower full of different types of cupcakes with a lit candle on top reading ‘17’. You take a deep breath to collect yourself. You look around you and you’re overwhelmed with how much you can feel all of them caring for you even though you just met most of them today. You wish your parents could see this… no you wish that your parents loved you enough where you wouldn’t even be in New York right now, but they don’t, and you have to live with that. “Thank you, for all of this,” you say looking mostly at Peter but also at the others. “Usually, I would spend my birthday with just my parents and this year I thought it would be Peter, May, MJ, Ned, and I. But I never could’ve predicted to be with any of you much less as your new teammate. I don’t know what else to do besides saying thank you.”

Next Chapter

Arrived

#the new kid #the avengers #peter parker #peter parker x platonic!reader #avengers x lesbian #avengers x reader #avengers x platonic reader #marvel x reader #marvel #self insert

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starlightinhumanform · 3 years

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wanted to do some worldbuilding for my Friday Night Lights AU. so far, the story has really only focused on Virgil and Roman but the rest of the sides are so special to me in this AU and I wanted to share them!!

Monarch Knights: Roman, Remus, Patton

All 3 have been best friends since childhood (Roman/Remus [twins] probably Patton’s neighbors)

Partners in crime (except a trio)

Remus= has crazy ideas; Roman: carries out daring schemes; Patton: gets them out of trouble

Patton who is the neighborhood’s sweetheart, who has the sweetest smile and big baby blue eyes and who has perfected the art of saying “No ma’am we would never dig a tunnel through your flowerbed” and fooling everyone

Present Patton: A good student, mostly A’s and B’s. Still an absolute sweetheart, still getting the twins out of trouble. Has more volunteer hours logged than any other student at Monarch High.

Very few see the alternative side to Patton: who blames his parents’ divorce on himself, who works 30 hours week plus school plus volunteering and who prays every night that he can get a scholarship to go to college

Present Roman: A good kid with a good heart who wants to make a difference in the world. He’s got a great imagination and a love for all things animated. Only problem is his grades, classes— especially math— just don’t click for Roman. It’s not that he’s not smart, he’s just not made for school. He loves football but he doesn’t want to spend his whole life doing it. He knows he wants to go to college, but he has no idea what he wants to do with his life. Even college isn’t a given, that is, if he can’t get his grades up.

Present Remus: An absolutely brilliant kid, could easily get straight A’s if he wanted to. Except he doesn’t want to, he hates school and he hates the whole system. He hates the unnecessary stress it puts on his best friends and he hates how unfair it is and he hates how it’s basically just a tool to train kids to get ground up by the cycle of capitalism. Nevertheless, he often tutors Roman and helps him with his homework because he knows how much it means to his brother. He really shines through art, especially in realistic gore sketches and graffiti. He likes to combine the two to spread his messages in a way that people can’t ignore.

Westshore High: Virgil, Janus, Logan, Remy (kinda)

Virgil, Janus, and Logan have been friends since middle school. All three of them were weird little outcasts and they just sort of found each other.

Middle school Janus: Stereotypical “baby gay.” At that point they didn’t know they were nonbinary and thought they were just a really feminine gay boy. Although they cringe looking back on that period of their life, it was really influential in helping them eventually find their true identity. They were outgoing, boisterous, and— despite being incredibly smart— was just a bit too noisy and distracted to ever get good grades.

Middle school Logan: Much like his older self except still deeply entrenched in his Pokémon fixation. He was usually very quite but once you got him started on one of his interests, he could almost rival Janus’ talking speed. Janus befriended him because they were both little outcasts. Logan liked Janus because their “conversations” mostly consisted of Logan sitting comfortably quiet while Janus chattered and Janus didn’t mind when Logan would start his rants.

Middle school Virgil: Textbook 13 year old emo who hasn’t quite figured out how to dress themselves yet. He repeatedly got in trouble for writing MCR lyrics on school property in sharpie. He didn’t mind being ostracized by most of his peers because he thought it made him seem more edgy. Unfortunately for him, Janus adopted him, thus creating their little trio.

Present Logan: Sharp as a knife. As smart as they come— school wise— but blunt and honest to a fault. He has a hard time connecting to people because he’s autistic; he has a hard time understanding what he’s “supposed” to do in social situations and many people think he’s rude. He is fiercely loyal to his best friends, Janus and Virgil, and always wants the best for them.

Present Janus: Their inability to focus in classrooms has created a deep rooted resentment to school in general. In the past few years, they have simply stopped trying to do well— something that often results in shouting matches between them and Logan. Logan thinks they should do more with their life, or at least have some sort of plan; Janus is just tired. Their parents are well off but rarely home— and know almost nothing about their only child. Janus feels most at home over at Logan’s, where they and Virgil are always welcome.

Present Virgil: Still fairly emo, except he’s gained a little bit more of a sense of style. He’s a smart kid, getting C’s and B’s without really trying. If he tried, he could probably get A’s but he doesn’t really see the point of it. As long as his grades are good enough to stay on the football team, they’re good enough for him. Football— and his small but close group of friends— are the only things at school he really cares about. Virgil doesn’t know what his future holds as giving it too much thought sends him into an anxious spiral. For now, he’s happy for things to stay just the way they are.

General Sanders Sides Taglist: ~ @centimeter-tries-to-communicate @bee-syndrome @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @mossdeemo @im-actually-ok @softnic @catolicabuena @queer-disaster106 @lunawolf89 ~

Friday Night Lights Taglist: @lcrnbw @amazing-creepyfloof @badluckkaren @athenashipsthings @chronophobica @icequeenoriginal @delicateherolightscissors @yourneighbourhooddisaster @sonny-ray-of-goth @captain-oats @thiswitchisgay-goodforher @elivampireboy

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the-hidden-writer · 3 years

Text

And Into The Fire

Chapter 13: A Small Confrontation

Summary: Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she’s seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it’s up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Taglist: @squidsushi , @astro-aye , @shitmyex, @sharks-are-friendly, @snakeguy99

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

A Small Confrontation

Aaron held onto his Mom’s hand for dear life as she and Dad used tools from the kit in the car to smash the glass of the entrance to Pal Labs; a hammer in Dad’s hand and a wrench in Mom’s.

Aaron himself just brought his Number 3 Robertson Head Non-Slip Screwdriver. He kept it in his pocket though, so he could hold Monchi’s lead with his other hand.

Monchi didn’t seem bothered with them committing crimes.

As soon as the glass pane had shattered (which had taken a surprising amount of effort from all of them to achieve), they raced through the hole and into the building that Aaron had only seen on TV.

Mom had said that they’d have the element of surprise since nobody knew they were coming- especially so early in the morning. Judging by the number of people pointing guns at them, Mom may have been wrong.

He gripped her hand tighter.

“Where are they?!” Mom cried, making Dad wince.

“Calm down, dear.” He shushed through an obviously-fake smile that failed to hide his panic. “We can’t win a fight here, let’s try and settle this peacefully.”

Mom glared at him but didn’t argue.

“Ah! Mitchells!”

The three of them looked up to see a new figure emerge on the big glass balcony, the sound of her boots clicking against the floor loudly. Some of the gun-people moved aside to allow the tall blonde woman to stand at the very edge to face them.

“Enjoying your road trip?”

Aaron was now sure that they had no element of surprise whatsoever. Mom looked heartbroken and a bit terrified.

“Who are you?” She demanded anyway. “What do you want with the poor robots?”

The woman smirked and avoided the questions entirely. “Which robots would those be, Mrs Mitchell? The robots that tried to take over the world or the robots that legally belong to Pal Labs?”

“Dang it.” Mom hissed under her breath. Sometimes Aaron wondered if she would use curse words more if she wasn’t a teacher. She probably would.

“You don’t look like Mark Bowman.” Dad commented warily. “And since when did Pal Labs authorise firearms for their workers? Doesn’t seem that legal to me.”

The lady frowned then, and Aaron instinctively shrunk in on himself. There was something about her (the way she was reacting to their arrival and the way that all the people holding guns seemed to respect her) that made her seem very menacing.

She felt a lot like a villain from one of Katie’s movies, except without Dog Cop to come and save them and guarantee a happy ending.

“I’m Agent Jennifer Ward with the CIA.” She said, pulling out a badge from her blazer pocket and flashing it in their direction. “And my team and I are trying to prevent another robot apocalypse.”

She put the badge back. “There, I’ve answered your questions, now answer mine: What do you want with the robots?”

Aaron cringed as all three of them faltered, knowing the real reason would be unacceptable. Even Monchi let out a small whine.

But it was still the truth.

“They’re our family!” He blurted out. Mom and Dad both turned to look at him, shocked. Aaron felt a little guilty- he probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Family?” The stern-looking agent scoffed in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

For a moment, Aaron thought that his Mom was glaring at him for revealing their secret. But she slowly turned her head so that she was facing the agent, giving her the Mom-glare instead.

“He’s right.” She said confidently, making Aaron’s heart swell with love for his mother. “They helped us stop Pal and they’re ours now. So give them back.”

He noticed Dad shuffle backwards. Mom was losing her patience very quickly.

The agent seemed to think for a minute. “Well… I’m feeling generous so I suppose you can have one back, since it’s only causing us trouble. You want the whole one, correct?”

The “whole” one? What did that mean?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dad voiced his confusion. He and Dad were often on the same page with this sort of thing.

The agent opened her mouth to reply, but before she could there was a loud crashing noise coming from down the hall. Her brows furrowed as she leaned on the balcony to try and look down.

The Mitchells, standing near the entrance, could see much more clearly.

And the sight in front of them was the last thing any of them had expected.

Aaron was the first to react. “Katie!”

Katie raced toward them, looking completely dishevelled and with some sort of desperation shining bright in her eyes. A man was following at a distance behind her- but Aaron couldn't quite see who it was.

“KATIE?!” Mom and Dad shouted at the same time, their gazes locking onto their daughter.

What was Katie doing here?!

Monchi, overjoyed to see her again, started dragging Aaron toward her.

“Don’t trust them!” She cried. She then bent down to pet the over-excited Monchi as they reached her, and as Aaron was closer he could see the sweat on her forehead. She must be really panicked. “They’ve got the bots- they’ve taken Eric apart!”

“They. What.”

Uh oh. Whenever Mom used that tone of voice it usually meant…

Aaron turned to see his Mom’s jaw clenched. Her eyes were wide and unfocused as she glared somewhere in their general direction.

The bad guys had no chance.

The agent must have sensed that too, as she snapped out of her shock and calmly said: “Get them.”

Suddenly the building erupted with the sound dozens of pairs of footsteps that thundered toward them, and Aaron was terrified.

Robots coming after you was one thing, but that didn’t really feel real. Or just not as real as the very real people coming at him with very real guns.

He found himself frozen to the spot as he watched his parents race toward him and Katie.

“We need to get out of here.” Katie whispered desperately, as the attackers grew ever nearer.

“Mitchells! This way!” A voice called back from the corridor that Katie had come from. Aaron was too frightened to recognise it. He felt too scared to do anything and he could barely register what was going on.

Katie took Monchi’s lead from his hand and Dad scooped him up into his arms. Mom held his hand as they ran in the direction the voice had come from.

He clung onto his Dad like a lifeline. Even though he hated being picked up (he was way too old for that) it was just what he needed, and they knew it. He loved his family.

Mom’s hand only slipped from his when they turned a corner as they were running. Aaron twisted his head to properly see where they were going (rather than the people who they were slowly gaining on) and he caught a glimpse of the owner of the voice, Mark Bowman himself, rushing into one of the many white doors to their right.

“In here!” He cried, holding the door open for them.

It took a few more precious seconds for them to reach the door, which the five of them literally tumbled into. Dad tripped over Monchi’s lead, causing Aaron to fall onto the tile floor the second that the door slammed shut behind them.

He looked up with a wince, expecting to see his family...

Not four huge men standing right in front of him with red eyes and crazed smiles.

Aaron screamed.

“Woah, hey, it’s okay!” Mark Bowman said, appearing from behind the line of large men. “They’re not real.” He shoved a hand straight through one of them, and the way it emerged from its chest made Aaron’s stomach churn. They looked so realistic. “See? Just holograms. We’re safe in here.”

“How do you know?” Asked Katie.

“This is the only lab without cameras, so those doors are really tough to get into once locked to make up for the lack of security,” Bowman explained, “and it also connects directly to Lab 3 upstairs. Now my workers know this, but these agents don’t. We can escape through there.”

“Katie!” Dad huffed, still getting his breath back. “What are you doing here?! Are you okay?”

Katie let out a small, tired laugh. That must mean she was sort of okay, right?

“It’s a funny story, actually…”

Comments make my day! :)

#the mitchells vs the machines #tmvtm #tmvstm #fic #fanfic #aaron mitchell #linda mitchell #rick mitchell #katie mitchell #mark bowman #eric and deborahbot5000 #and into the fire

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Mismatch- Part 10

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Picking codenames is hard!... on Batman

First< Previous> Next

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“That was so awkward,” Marinette groans, pulling her beanie down as a mask.

“The part where your crush was asking for date ideas right next to you?” Marion turns his hoodless hoodie inside out to the black side, “Or the temperature drop between Chlo and 'he who shall no longer be named in her presence'?”

“One, we’re not in her presence right now so you don’t have to keep that promise,” Marinette unzips her skirt so she's down to her leggings and hands it to Marion, “and two, both, I hope you’re just a cringe worthy around Red Hood tonight”

“Now that’s just not nice,” Marion playfully pouts, flipping the skirt inside out and pulling it over his head.

“Your crush got us into this situation, I reserve the right to not be nice,” Marinette pulls her hood up before running and vaulting off the roof.

“Can you believe that?” Marion makes sure his mask is fit securely over his head.

“Yes, yes I can,” Plaggs voice sounds from his pocket. Marion doesn't answer chasing after Marinette to the meeting point.

“Sorry we’re late,” Marion says, touching down in front of Batman and Robin a second later than Marinette, he puts away his staff, “Not exactly the fastest way to travel,”

At least not without magic.

“That changes today,” Batman walks away from the edge of the building.

The twins follow with Robin who had fixed a glare on Marinette since their arrival.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Marinette decides to be the bigger person, both figuratively and literally, “I felt frustrated and defensive and took that out on you,”

Robin seems taken aback, regarding her for a long pause.

“Indeed, take care it doesn't happen again,” Robin says, at least slightly less snobbishly then he was yesterday.

Marinette doesn't let that bother her and gives him a bright smile. Taking him off guard again. Marion squints at the shadows trying to see a betraying hint of bright colors.

“The others are out on patrol,” Batman informs them as they come to stand next to him as he sets down a case on an old abandon table

Marion hoped he didn’t notice.

“So there’s no need to glare at the shadows,” Batman adds, a hint of amusement at Marion's embarrassment. He flips open the briefcase to reveal neatly packed grappling hook guns among other gadgets and weapons.

“These are your communicators, put them on,” Batman hands them each a small piece of cool metal shaped with irregular bumps that should fit well in their ears.

“Hello, this is Oracle, can you hear me?” A voice clicks on when the communicator is comfortable in Marion's ear.

“Um, hi Oracle, I don’t think we’ve met,” Marion says out loud, glancing at Batman who gives a confirming nod.

“We haven’t, but I’ve been watching you, I run surveillance in the Batcave,”

“That’s an actual thing?” Marinette blurts out, Oracle laughs.

“Yeah, Batman's committed to the motif,” She tells them, curiosity and mischief takes over.

“Please tell me there are actual bats,” Marion jokingly begs.

“Maybe you’ll find out for yourself someday,” Oracle teases.

“How mean,” Marion pouts playfully, hoping Oracle could tell he’s not serious.

“You’ll patrol with Robin and I today,” Batman hands them each a grappling hook, “Do you know how to use these,”

Marinette smirks, walking to the edge of the building and launching off, swinging into the night.

“That would be a yes,” Oracle chuckles, Marion looks around trying to figure out where she’s watching from, “Don’t bother looking, I have eyes all over the city,”

“Huh, that's concerning,” Marion watches Marinette land on an adjacent roof, waiting for them, “Also I don’t know how to use this, staffs really are my forte,”

“I’ll teach you, Robin follow her,” Batman commands, Robin swinging off with the same ease as Ladybug.

“That reminds me what are your codenames?” Oracle asks through the comms, as Marion regards the grappling hook with suspicion.

“Uh, we don’t have any, do we need them?” Marinette answers for him, as he judges the weight.

“It’ll be easier than saying ‘hey you’ and ‘the other one’,” Oracle sounds amused. Marion accidentally hits the trigger, Batman easily sidesteps the upcoming projectile.

“Plus we need to stamp out this rumour,” Robin spits venomously, Marion quickly retracts the hook.

“What rumour?” Marion looks to Batman who didn’t seem too upset about almost being shot.

“There has already been some sightings of you around Gotham, no one knows your names so they are calling you the new Robins,” Batman explains, correcting Marion’s grip on the grappling hook.

“Their first response to seeing new vigilantes was that there were new Robins?” From the audio it sounds like Marinette is rushing through the air. Something Marion realises he will be doing soon as Batman guides him to aim at the next building over.

“There's been a lot, plus you have the whole red, green and yellow,” Oracle informs, as Marion hits the trigger.

“Separately, I would never put all three in one outfit, unless I was trying to be a traffic light,” Marion smiles at Marinette's offence, remembering when she was forced to do just, lamenting over how heroes have no eye for color scheme.

“Regardless, you need codenames,” Batman watches as Marion pulls making the line go taunt.

“Do they have to be flying creatures themed?” Marion gets ready to swing down to the next building. He tries to remember the times they messed around and tried on each others miraculous. Needless to say he preferred his staff.

Batman is silent, swinging to the next building expecting Marion to follow.

“I’m going to connect your comm to the others, they need to hear this,” Oracle laughs, a click later, “New guys are on,”

“Hi,” Nightwing's voice comes through.

“Hello,” The twins both greet, getting a response from Red Robin as well.

“Hey, I’m Spoiler, nice to meet ya,” A cheerful feminine voice greets.

“Black Bats also on here somewhere, don’t expect her to talk much,” Oracle tells them, Marion still standing on the edge of the roof.

“I’m here too,” Red Hood’s voice startles him, jumping off and swinging across more on instinct than anything else.

“I’m surprised at you Hood,” Robin sneer can be heard, Marion lands on the roof with a slight stumble.

“Don’t be, just didn’t want there to be new Robins running around,” Red Hood grouses, Marion gives Batman a slightly amused smile, the man nods in approval, or confirmation?

“We were actually just talking about codenames,” Oracle remarks, “Flying creature themed,”

“How about, flying squirrel!” Marion jokes, following Batman's lead as he aims for the next building over.

“Sugar glider,” Marinette giggles.

“Yeah, that's the one,” Marion approves, grappling hook shooting out with a hiss.

“No,” Batman denies, swinging off.

“Flying fish,” Marion follows with less hesitation.

“Scientific name: Exocoetidae,” Oracle answers without a beat, as Marion swings through the air.

“Why would you know that?” Marion hears someone say over the rushing wind.

“No,” Batman growls, Marion landing next to him.

“Gliding Lizard,” Marinette offers, as Batman shows Marion the retraction tool on the grappling hook.

“Scientific name: Draco,” Oracle recites.

“Potter,” Marion and Red Hood snarl together. Marion tries not to grin like an idiot in front of the watching Batman.

“No,” Batman jumps to the next much taller building using the retraction tool to pull himself to the top.

“Flying frog’s a thing,” Oracle tells them through the comms, “Or Wallace’s flying frog,”

“Oh, can everyone please just call me Wallace,” Marion makes sure his grappling hook is secure, “You’ve got Batman, Robin, Red Hood, and Wallace,”

“I’ll be Grommet,” Marinette laughs, Marion jumps.

“No,” Batman repeats, Marion uses the grappling hook to pull him up next to Batman.

“Mosquito,” Spoiler chimes in.

“Fly,” Red Hood adds, Marion can hear gunshots from somewhere. Looking around he realises it was from the comms. Nobody comments, so he assumes it was common enough.

“No,” Batman says, Marion follows him more confidently.

“Flying snake,” Marion remembers after a far too long conversation with Sass.

“Is that a thing?” Nightwing questions. Marion jumps off the building, sending the grappling hook out as he falls.

“Sure is,” Marion feels the hook snag on something and pills himself up landing next to Batman.

“Slightly more afraid of snakes,” Nightwing admits, Batman's expression is similar to Kagami's when he jumped into the Seine river to save a cat.

“Don’t worry they’re only mildly venomous,” Marion smiles, partly at Batman's still surprised face.

“Gee, thanks,” Nightwing says, as Marion ignores Batman's glare.

“Welcome,” Marion swings to the next building with a cheeky grin.

“No,” Batman overtakes him.

“This is why we’ve never chosen codenames,” Marinette whispers.

“I see,” Robin whispers back, no one bothers to inform them they can be heard.

“You are now limited to birds,” Batman grumbles, leading Marion across rooftops, still at a slow pace.

“Penguin!” Marion grins, Batman was trying but it would take a lot more to discourage him.

“That's a villain,” Red Robin tells him. Marion knew that he just thought it would be funny if they were both called penguin.

“Emu,” Marinette continues the flightless bird trend as Marion soars across the sky.

“No,” Batman growls.

“Cassowary,” Marion remembers the evil looking bird from their Nonna's postcard. Which Marinette had kindly made sure was hung up facing his bed.

“Why?” Red Hood startles Marion, causing him to crash through a window of an old building.

“Have you seen them? Quite frankly scarier than bats” Marion is momentarily proud of himself for not stuttering.

“No,” Batman looks disapproving, standing atop the broken glass, Marion rubs his neck grinning sheepishly.

“I think he’s intimidated,” Red Hood snickers, warmth filling Marion making him forget.

“It’s already working,” Marion smiles, partly at Batman who turns to leave.

“No it’s not,” Batman says gruffly. Marion moves to follow but he senses something off, the same instincts he had honed during Akuma attacks.

“Sure,” Red Hood scoffs, but Marion isn’t distracted trying to focus his somewhat super hearing. The muted sounds of distress could easily be written off, but he knew better.

“Kiwi,” Spoiler chirps, Marion tugs on Batman's cape, not bothering to look back as he follows a mixture of the murmurs and instinct.

“Quail,” Red Robin adds, Marion rushes down the stairs, echoing footsteps of them both making it harder to hear so he just keeps going down.

“Ostrich,” Nightwing chatters, even over the footsteps Marion can now hear something.

“Stop choosing flightless birds,” Batman commands, trying again in vain to narrow down their shenanigans.

“Pigeon,” Spoiler crushes his hopes of them taking it seriously.

“Bin chicken!,” Nightwing laughs, Marion reaches the bottom of the staircase. He concentrates Batman standing silently behind him.

“You mean Ibis?” Robin corrects. Marion can hear it now, the floor below several people, children, some crying others yelling for help.

“That's not nearly as much fun,” Spoiler yammers, as Marion whispers the information to Batman.

“Crow,” Nightwing tries again. Batman nods, taking the lead. Marion feels some of his tension drain, Batman carrying a similar feeling to whenever he followed Ladybug.

“Raven,” Marinette seems to at least be making an attempt to take this seriously now, probably because Marion hasn’t been egging her on.

“Already a hero,” Robin tells her, Batman breaks down the door to an office type room, the guard behind the desk barely having a chance to react before getting knocked out.

“Really? I have to meet them,” Oh thats right, no she wasn't because MDC had designed a Raven outfit months ago.

“Dove,” Oracle tries, Marion wonders if she is watching as Batman shoves a shelf out the way revealing a locked door.

“Crane,” Red Hood adds, Batman's relief at semi serious names is dulled as he easily picks the lock while Marion readies his staff.

“Heron,” Spoiler says, as the door swings open. Batman looks back, checking in on Marion who gives him a reassuring smile, theres no way he would miss this.

“Osprey,” Robin offers. Marion is glad he is getting involved, lightning his mood as they enter the basement room. A group five of men with guns nearby playing cards.

“The Heron and the Osprey are my friends,” Marion half sings the Pocahontas tune as he lunges forward, smacking the gun out of the first goon's hand and kicking him in the stomach simultaneously.

“It’s otter,” Nightwing corrects good-naturedly, Marion watches the first goon double over. He defends himself against the seconds punch, a third ganging up on him.

“Well someone ban us from anything but birds,” Marion light heartedly glares at Batman who takes out the third goon.

“Moving on,” Batman grunts, disarming a fourth goon that comes at him, the fifth already on the ground.

“Hawk,” Red Robin suggests, just as Marion turns to see the second goon aiming a gun at him.

“Eagle,” Marinette says, a batarang flies through the air hitting the goons hand, who drops the gun reflexively.

“You’re going to have to commit to full american if you take on that one,” Nightwing chuckles, Marion tries to hit the second goon in the head but his staff is caught by a bleeding hand.

“So no then,” Marinette lets some of her french accent come through. Marion yanks his staff forward, sending the goon off balance forward. He brings his knee up to his chest and elbow to the back of his neck at the same time.

“Kite,” Nightwing offers. Marion watches the goon slump to the floor, reminding himself to bandage his hand later.

“Parasailing,” Marion plays the word association game. The first goon has recovered and is standing again, now with a knife.

“How’d you make that connection,” Nightwing puzzles, as Marion dodges the blade.

“It’s like flying a kite but with people's lives,” Marion laughs, partly at the very confused look the first goon gives him.

“High risk kite flying, if it gets stuck in a tree it's time to go to the hospital,” Red Hood snatches Marion's focus, almost getting himself stabbed.

“You realise that the people who are in the air are meant to be having fun,” Red Robin asks, Marion can’t answer as he dodges the knife again. He would never hear the end of it if he got stabbed because of his crush. Oh and he would have to go to the hospital and might die and stuff.

“Then they're clearly not doing parasailing right,” Red Hood retaliates, Marion decides he does not want Marinette to put this on his tombstone. He steps to the opposite side of the knife, the goon predictably twists to reach him. Marion grabs his wrist holding the knife and his shoulder with the other hand.

“I second that,” Marion grins sweeping the goons legs while applying pressure to the wrist until the knife is dropped. The goon lands on his back, Marion pulls his arm so he is forced on his stomach, other arm trapped underneath.

“You are never allowed near the ocean again,” Marinette sighs, Marion moves the arm he is still holding into a pin. Batman hands him a pair of handcuffs. Marion snaps one around the goons writs before pulling the other out from under his body.

“I shouldn’t have to say it but your codename cannot be Parasailing,” Batman scowls, the other three goons already out cold.

“Ugh, why can’t we just go with Robins?” Marion sits the goon up, lifting the table and sliding his looped arms under a leg.

“We already have a Robin and Red Robin,” Nightwing points out, Marion moves to the second goon. He pulls some bandages out of his satchel, tightly bandaging the goons bleeding hand.

“Scarlet Robin,” Marinette suggests. Marion smiles at her teasing tone, zip tying the second goon's hands together.

“Same thing,” Red Robin sounds irritated, Marion looks to see Batman has restrained the other goons as well.

“With less alliteration” Spoiler mocks, Marion checks to make sure there are no weapons within reach of the one conscious goon.

“Black Robin,” Marion picks up his dropped staff, holding on to it in case there's anyone else looking for a fight.

“Flame Robin,” Nightwing offers, Batman surveyed the room before giving Marion a nod.

“I like that one,” Marion sets down the hall towards the noise, he's not sure if Batman can hear yet.

“You are not to call yourselves Robin,” Robin snarls, Marion would grin over getting him to snap if it wasn’t for the quiet cries behind the door he stood in front of.

“Thrush,” Red Hood taunts, Marion pushes open the door where there are several children who all startle at seeing him.

“That's a Robin,” Robin sneers, when Batman follows in after him their concern melts into relief. The younger ones running up to him.

“No its not,” Oracle says, Marion can hear sirens from above and wonders who called the police, “Robins are part of the Chat family,”

“Oh I have to be Chat!” Marion exclaims, making the few kids near him jump and the others look at him like he’s crazy. He blushes but gives them a friendly smile and wave.

“No!” Marinette shouts not at all suspiciously. He ignores her, telling Batman, and by extension the room the police have arrived. He can hear them entering the building. “I find it highly entertaining you know so much about birds,”

‘Very smooth cover’ Marion doesn't dare say out loud. He crouches down in front of the kid closet to him. His clothes are torn with dirt smudged all over them and his face. Marion gives his brightest smile asking if he’s ok. He gets a hesitant one in return and a slight nod.

“Alright then, other small bird species,” Oracle graciously changes the subject.

“Fantail,” Spoiler suggests, Marion can hear the police running around upstairs in completely the wrong direction. He tells Batman so.

“Sparrow,” Nightwing tries, Batman leaves to direct the police. They probably wouldn't trust an unknown like Marion, much like the kids don't.

“I like that one,” Marinette approves, Marion reaches into his bag pulling out a box of cookies. It was meant to be a backup for Tikki, but the Kwami could make do.

“It’s acceptable,” Batman says over the comms. Marion hands the box to the boy who stands in front of him.

“Other birds starting with s?” Red Robin asks, Marion smiles as the boy’s excitement when he opens the box.

“Swallow,” Nightwing says, after a thoughtful pause. Marion watches as the boy immediately goes to share with the others.

“One step forward,” Robin mutters, Marion gives the kids a reassuring smile before moving to stand watch at the door.

“Seagull,” Spoiler giggles, Marion can hear the police talking with Batman, who must have turned off his comm.

“And two steps back,” Red Hood mocks, Marion tries to keep the completely inappropriate lovestruck grin off his face.

“Looking up birds,” Oracle informs, a pause then, “Sad flycatcher,”

“Should we shorten it down to ‘sad’ or ‘flycatcher’,” Marion wonders aloud, hoping the kids didn’t hear him, or at least don’t think he’s insane.

“Sad,” Red Robin responds instantly. Marion feels a tug on his sleeve, looking down he sees the same boy holding out a cookie for him.

“Fly catcher,” Nightwing says cheerfully. Marion’s heart melts. Shaking his head he urges the kid to have it himself. He does, sticking close to Marion.

“No,” Batman must have turned his comm back on, in time for Marion to catch the tell tale footsteps coming downstairs.

“That isn’t part of the name at all,” Spoiler jokes, the police enter the room. Marion sees Batman signal for them to leave. Marion ruffles the boy's hair gently, getting a slightly bolder smile.

“Stork,” Marion leaves the room, sticking close to Batman so police don’t attack him.

“You are very cute with babies,” Red Hood praises, making Marion's face heat.

“You saw that!” He yells, startling the officers they walk past to get upstairs.

“I recorded it,” Red Hood’s amusement is clear in his voice. Marion can’t come up with an answer, his thoughts warring over if that was a good thing or not.

“Santa cruz ground dove,” Oracle reads, snapping Marion out of his thoughts. He had blindly followed Batman to the stairwell, he seemed amused by Marion's spaciness.

“Santa,” Nightwing declares, as the two climb the stairs.

“Absolutely,” Marion beams, looking for Batman's reaction.

“No,” Batman shuts down, unfortunately stony faced.

“Screaming Crowbir-”

“No,” Batman cuts Oracle off.

“Scrub warbler,” Oracle tries again.

“We aren't calling him scrub,” Nightwing sighs, before Batman gets the chance.

“Sharpe,” Oracle proposes.

“I will exclusively call you permanent marker,” Spoiler promises, making him smile.

“Sounds like a win-win,” Marion bounces to the top of the stairs.

“No,” Batman grouses, they come out to the roof, the night's cool air hitting them.

“Shelley’s starling,” Oracle reads, as Marion walks to the edge of the roof to see what's happening below.

“Please let me be Shelley,” Marion begs Batman, hands clasped and everything.

“No,” Batman snaps, Marion hits him with the babydoll eyes, “Maybe,”

“Shikra,” Oracle interrupts his silent victory.

“Shakira!” Nightwing shouts, Marion bounces on his feet.

“No,” Batman says firmly.

“Please,” Marion tries the babydoll eyes again.

“I’d rather you be Shelley,” Batman admits, Marion would take it.

“Sparkling violetear,” Oracle lists.

“Sparkling,” Spoiler gushes, Marion looks onto the street below where the kids are exiting the building.

“No,” Batman disapproves, also watching medics take over, giving blankets out and checking them over.

“Flash back to the first robin costume,” Nightwing's haunted whisper carries over.

“What?” Marinette sounds horrified, Nightwing's previous fashion choices not being very confidence inducing.

“Squirrel cockatoo,” Oracle reads, just why it’s called that is beyond Marion.

“Wont that confuse people?” Red Robin asks, Marion spies the little boy looking around.

“Exactly,” Marion’s comment gets a chuckle from someone, he hopes it’s Red Hood.

“Stitch bird,” Oracle adds. The boy's eyes land on Marion who probably just looked like a silhouette, but only so many people hang out on rooftops.

“Can I change my name to Lilo?” Marinette requests. The boy waves, Marion gives him a two fingered salute before disappearing from view.

“No, we’ve wasted enough time as is,” Robin doesn't pick up on her taunt, Marion and Batman leave the scene behind.

“Good job,” Batman remarks, Marion doesn't hear an echo from his ear.

“Sunda Robin,” Oracle says, Marion smiles to himself watching Batman move ahead.

“No Robins,” Robin scowls, Marion tries to get back into the rhythm of swinging through the air.

“Sunda thrush,” Oracle repeats. Batman stops, brings up a holographic map, a flashing ‘R’ not far from them.

“Same thing!” Robin yells, Marion follows Batman in the direction shown on the map.

“We’re going to be here all night,” Red Robin sighs tiredly.

“How about-”

“That's enough for tonight,” Batman cuts off Spoiler, a long pause following.

“Guys I think we broke B.” Nightwing stage whispers into the comms.

“Good job, and on your first night too,” Red Hood cheers, making Marion stumble his landing. Which is obviously the moment their paths intersect with Marinette and Robin. The former giving him a knowing look.

Marion sneers, they continue on with patrol as a group. Oracle directs them to a pickpocket a block over. They take one look at the four vigilantes surrounding them and give in. They are interrupted by their phones simultaneously buzzing, an Akuma alert.

“We have to go,” Marinette lands next to Batman, handing over the grappling hook.

“Where?” Batman demands, as they both remove their comms, cutting off the others asking the same.

“Something came up, we have to handle it, see ya,” Marion waves, vaulting off the building, followed by Marinette.

“... I have to admit, that wasn’t too bad,” Marinette muses, as they check for cameras before transforming.

“That's the spirit Sparrow!” Marion pulls on his glasses, “Gasp! Jack Sparrow!”

“Captain,” Marinette corrects, “Don’t tell Batman he’ll make us change it again,”

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ricinbach · 3 years

Text

howlin’ for you. | chapter 1 - there once was a girl

in which you find a glimmer of hope, unbeknownst to the looming danger.

Purple and pink lights.

They flashed and flickered endlessly, filling out the vast room and ricocheting off of the glittery metal and cheap velvet. Neon, bright and dark, all at the same time.

What normally brought others, patrons and outsiders a sense of sexuality and the excitement of the unknown, ran nothing but shivers down your spine every time your skin bathed in them.

An awkward sensation in itself, considering the amount of time you had spent under them at that point -whether in the arms of a stranger or with your hands glued to the sweat and glitter-covered metal of the pole. The familiar feeling of tight lace wrapped around your thighs and hips, constantly reminding of your what seemed to be permanent purpose and occupation at every single slight movement of your limbs, be it a mere step or a slow grind.

It was yet another start to another fucked up night, every night had been a fucked up one as of late. The pervert at the DJ booth who insisted to play some sort of utter garbage every damn night was not shy then as well - the raunchy beats thudded off of the walls and vibrated into the very beings of anyone in the club, the bass and the high volume mixed in. Sometimes it made you wonder how on earth this much noise could be muffled the moment you would step out onto the cold, unforgiving streets.

Magic. It was the surefire explanation to most things.

Just like that damned pink ribbon tied around your dainty neck, always keeping you in check.

It was there when you slept, tossed and turned around your beaten up mattress, as vivid nightmares about the past, present and the future kept sleep at bay sometimes. When you showered, ate whatever meal you could afford for that day. When you had to strut your way into that forsaken motel for yet another appointment with another fucked up Fable.

Some knew better not to touch it or ask questions about it, most of them too busy to stare at your exposed flesh and roam their hands all over, in anticipation of the following acts and to become undone as soon as possible. Yet a select few, every once in a while, asked about the famous ribbon that all girls at the club seemed to have tightened around their pretty little necks - to which you would only be resorted to ask if they liked it or not, then got back to your job of pleasing them.

They thought it was some sort of a uniform, provided by the club to enhance the sexuality of their prized ladies, a little kiss of innocence of a pink ribbon compared to the raunchy lace that usually covered you partially.

Oh, if only you could scream out to the whole world to hear just how much pain that silk around your neck had caused you, and was most likely going to keep doing so for the years to come.

Obedience.

That’s what it stood for, not just some pretty accessory or bondage tool to please someone’s fantasy. It was pure magic, not the healing kind. Dark, dark spells, originating from the old world, coursing through your very soul and veins at that point, preparing to bring in your demise with the most gentle tug of your fingers.

Discretion is our guarantee.

The words etched into your brain and memorized by each and every curve of your lips. Certain things they let you say and do, certain things they did not and more often, it was what they did not allow you to speak about that caused the most pain.

The memory of your first days in that hellhole of a joint still vivid in your mind, and it seemed to be causing you flashbacks even more now than then, for a reason you had yet to figure. It was almost as if you could sense that something was coming. Why else would your mind play tricks on you, taking you back to the days where you had been so desperate, thrown to the wolves?

Whatever that was looming in the dark that was out to hunt you, was gonna have to wait until you got your money for the night.

Manicured red nails would graze the fabric gently, eyes digging deep into your reflection that seemed to stare right back into your eyes right in front of you. With each sensation it transferred to your entire body, the softness under your fingertips was somewhat welcome yet feared. Here it was - a constant reminder that you were trapped and bound.

A walking prisoner among men, women and beast. Captive in six-inch heels and red lipstick. A trapped, pure soul who wants nothing but freedom, to walk alone with her head held high with a gentle smile.

Who wanted to just go home.

A low thud of commotion emanating into the dressing room seemed to bring you back to your senses as you muttered a curse and got up from the makeup chair you had been situated on for the past half an hour, way longer than your predetermined break had allowed you. Dusty lights gleaming in your face as you leaned towards the mirror to make sure your eyeliner was not smudged, you took the opportunity to adjust your revealing halter dress that fit you like a glove as you tugged it down ever so slightly.

With a sigh and your clutch in your hand, your heels only took you so far as the newly-opened door, only to find a flustered companion of yours occupying the frame.

Green eyes enlarged and chest heaving in that black bustier of hers, she did not give you a moment to exclaim your surprise as she gently pushed you inside the room, heels clicking as she pulled the sad excuse of a door in an attempt for privacy. It was not often you would see girls flustered and bothered like this out in the open, usually everyone tried to keep it to themselves when they could. The entire situation was beginning to make your heart gently thump in your chest, brows furrowing as you tried to make some sense out of everything.

“Faith? What’s goin’ on?” you would ask, as she ran a hand through her hair, visibly trying to calm herself. Her full lips would twitch ever so slightly in an emotion you could not fully discern just yet, the beat of the muffled music thumping through the room as your anxiety was bubbling.

She looked into your eyes and smiled - a soft, scared, sad yet somewhat hopeful curling of her lips as she spoke in a tone that gave some sort of hope along with a taste of fear.

“I think I know how to get the hell out of here - for good this time.”

#i am absolute bigby wolf trash #hot damn #more to come #sorry for the spam im just super excited #the wolf among us #telltale games #twau #twau bigby #bigby wolf #fables #bigby wolf x reader #bigby wolf x you #my work #val writes #writing

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 3-14: 海水与火焰 Seawater & Flames Translation

“The more capable you are, the more troublesome the things you have to take care of.“

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

❖ Location: Abandoned Building

The old store heralded the arrival of another wave of visitors.

A black sedan car stopped under the shade of trees. A tall and built figure exited from the passenger's side of the car, standing in front of the door that had been left unlocked.

Evan scrutinized the ground before the door.

He turned to shoot Zhou Yan a look before he strode through the entrance.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn took away the small piece of orange-coloured paper on my fingertips.

I snapped back to reality. My tears had already slid down my cheek to the edges of my mouth. Osborn brought his thin, calloused, fingers up to my face, gently wiping the tears away.

Osborn: What's wrong?

MC: ……

I stared blankly at my palm, feeling a stifling feeling in my chest.

Here it was again. This feeling didn't belong to me. Once, twice, thrice… It had occurred with such frequency in my life that I was dying to know just what it was.

MC: Just now…

Osborn: What?

MC: You might not believe me, but when I touched that piece of paper earlier, I felt something very strong from it.

Osborn: You felt something very strong?

MC: I felt warmth and hatred that didn't belong to me, and with acute clarity.

MC: As if another soul was living within me.

Osborn slightly furrowed his brow in thought.

Osborn: Is this the first time something like this has happened?

MC: No. This has already happened thrice recently.

And it got fiercer and much stronger each time it happened. It was something I couldn't control.

Osborn lowered his eyes, his expression gradually turning serious.

Osborn: That's probably your "Ability".

MC: …."Ability"?

Osborn: It's an inherent special ability that you were born with. If my guess is right, it should fall in the spiritual category...

Osborn: You're an Empath.

MC: An Empath? And what's that?

Osborn: You can see things that others cannot. Or perhaps you can feel lingering emotions that have been left behind on items. They all fall under Empathy.

MC: I can feel… emotions that have been left behind on things? And I can see things that others can't?

MC: Are you sure you’re not talking about something that can only happen in fantasy movies?

I looked up at him incredulously, unable to help the scoff that escaped me. I thought he was joking with me. But when he maintained his serious look, I started to inwardly panic.

Since he said that I could feel things…

I quickly reached out towards the skull necklace that he wore.

A surge of anger exploded in my heart, followed by the cold emptiness of having no place to belong to. It felt as if the whole world had turned onto a single, innocent, soul.

MC: This necklace… I feel a strong thrum of anger coming from it. Have you been wronged in the past?

Osborn dropped his gaze, removing his necklace from my grasp.

Osborn: That happened a long time ago. Do you believe in your own ability now?

I quickly sorted out and digested the huge amount of information packed in his words, and even bigger questions made themselves known.

MC: But, why would I have an Ability like this? I’ve been living a normal life for the past 23 years...

Osborn: Looks like it's time for you to get to know yourself again.

Osborn: Actually, I started suspecting that you might be one when you mentioned my blue flames. Ordinary people can't see my flames.

MC: ...So the blue flames I saw in the afternoon were real? Is that your ability?

The words had only barely left my mouth before deep-blue flames erupted, appearing within his palm once more, lighting up the dark space.

I never thought that there’d be a day where I’d be put in relation to these seemingly preposterous terms. I repeatedly questioned myself inwardly: Is this really happening?

But, with the flame currently burning within Osborn’s palm, the sudden wave of emotion I felt in my head, and the strange man who was suspected of draining his victims...

All these things that shouldn’t make any realistic sense at all were now happening before my eyes. What else is there to doubt?

Looking into Osborn’s eyes that reflected the dancing flames, I felt like I’d touched upon the reticulated network of blood vessels that were behind the world.

And I had a faint inkling that these invincible blood vessels had long since interwoven themselves into my past and future, just that they’d never come to my notice.

When I snapped back to my senses, I turned to look at Osborn, only to find that I still had a huge pile of questions for him...

★Night Choice: When did you realize that you had an Ability?

MC: When did you figure that you had an Ability, Osborn?

Osborn: When I was a kid. I happened to find out by chance when I got into a fight with someone.

MC: ...So you won the fight with your Ability?

Osborn: Yes and no. We didn't actually throw hands or anything. They all got spooked from the heat in the air and scrammed before that.

MC: Did you find that many things changed after finding out that you had an Ability?

He shot me a look, raising his hand and flexing his fingers in the same manner as one would when playing with something soft and squishy, manipulating the shape of his flames.

Osborn: There's nothing particularly different. This word's still the same.

Osborn: But the more capable you are, the more troublesome the things you have to take care of.

MC: Oh… You're right. I mean, you've always been protecting me.

Osborn: So quick to write yourself off as trouble?

MC: But since I have an Ability now, I can protect you in the future too.

Osborn smiled as he retracted his flames. He patted my head.

Osborn: Your Ability naturally has strong points where it excels in, but you can't go forcefully barging in headfirst when things get dangerous.

MC: Got it!

☆Light Choice: How has your Ability affected you?

MC: You must have found out about your own Ability a long time ago. Did it affect you?

MC: Did you feel different from others around you, for example? Do you feel… segregated from people?

He paused for a while, as if I’d hit the bullseye, but his usual carefree smile quickly returned.

Osborn: Nothing that serious.

Osborn: 'Sides, don't I still have you?

Osborn smiled as he retracted his flames. He patted my head.

The icy feeling of emptiness, of having no place to belong, that had its grip on my heart all these while suddenly subsided.

Yes; it doesn’t matter whether I accept this Ability or not, for it is a fact that this Ability exists within me whether I like it or not. The trouble that may come with it may be inevitable, but fate is still something that can be affected by choice.

MC: Suddenly, I feel like it’s not all that bad being one of the odd ones out. I mean, you’re with me after all!

As soon as the words left my mouth, Osborn suddenly looked at me with a deep and inexplicable look, almost as if he’d just unexpectedly fallen into a vortex of memories.

It was obvious enough that he was thinking about something. Shock, joy, doubt, among a myriad of many other emotions that I couldn’t quite put a finger on buried bright in his eyes, like embers of a smouldering flame.

Seeing him like this made my heart thump loud and violent in my chest. I had a fleeting delusion in his trance-like moment: perhaps those memories he was reminiscing had something to do with me...

MC: ...What's wrong?

After a moment’s silence, he broke eye contact, lowering his eyes with a somewhat self-deprecating laugh and shaking his head.

Osborn: Nothing. It’s just that someone once told me the exact same thing you did back in the past.

Osborn: Unfortunately, I only ever saw her once.

So that's what it was…

MC: You never know, you might meet them again one day. Aren’t all encounters a long-awaited reunion after all?

Osborn merely smiled. When he looked back up this time, his usual playful expression had eased back in almost naturally.

Osborn: My bad; I digressed from the topic. What was I talking about again…? Oh, Abilities.

Osborn: Okay. Don't overthink things.

Osborn: You need to understand that you can use your Ability, but you must also lead a normal life. You're not all that different from the average Joe.

Osborn: Also, your Ability doesn't seem to have stabilized yet. In any case, don't tell anyone else about it; got it?

MC: Okay.

Osborn: Good. Now we have something much more important to do.

MC: Yeah.

I nodded, holding up the small shred of orange paper between my fingers.

MC: If I’m not wrong, I think the one who left this piece of paper behind was the same guy who attacked me before.

Osborn shot me an approving look.

Osborn: Looks like you CAN find him.

MC: I'll try.

I focused hard, concentrating as I carefully touched each door.

These doors didn’t invoke any special feelings within me. I was starting to think that my so-called Ability was actually just a fluke… Until a stabbing pain erupted in my head!

Grief, fear, despair… It felt almost as if all the deep dark emotions to ever exist in the world were assaulting me at once.

I could already feel the strong emotions seeping out from the door before me despite not having touched it.

Osborn: This one?

MC: ...Yeah.

Osborn signalled for me to step back and was just about to bring the door down when a small noise came from behind it.

MC: !?

I grabbed him by the sleeve and he instantly nodded in understanding.

I watched as he knelt down, taking out a small delicate tool from his pocket and used it to fiddle with the door’s lock.

As the minutes went by, the sound coming from within became increasingly active. It made me a little uneasy.

Then, a click sounded in the otherwise silent surroundings.

The door was open.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 3-11) | Next Part: (Chapter 3-16)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

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peachyqueenly · 3 years

Text

The Night of Witches

Rated: T

White Lily Cookie goes to The Night of Witches seeking answers... but this time, she is not alone. Will this affect how Fortuna writes the story?

Link to it on AO3 (if you prefer to read it there): https://archiveofourown.org/works/31830856

//Quick note before we start!!

Firstly, I'd like to thank my friends Lou and Cas (if either of you are reading this, mwah mwah thank you for your help besties!!) for helping me proofread!!! Yall are the best and your suggestions definitely helped bring this work to life <3.

Secondly, feel free not to click this link until you either a. reach the part where they appear or b. finish the entire story, but here is a link to the design for an OC (or alt design, if you will) that appears here. I find having a visual reference helps me, so: https://twitter.com/PeachyQueenly/status/1399134036359106567?s=20.

Finally, just in case, a fair warning that there is an injury (someone loses a finger) and a death in here. I don't think I wrote it too graphically, but pay heed to the T rating.

Such a solemn place...

White Lily had told him it was just an evening trip. Nothing specific, just that she had some business to attend to outside the soaring peaks and sweet valleys of the Vanilla Kingdom. She told him not to worry himself to the point of crumbling... and at first, he felt bad for not believing her mournful eyes.

But now? He was glad to have trusted his judgement rather than her words... for once.

The smell of burnt dough and... batter? Like the lingering smell of the occasional Cake Hound attack. That was the first thing that registered in Pure Vanilla’s senses as he got lost in his friend’s frantic mumblings. Then, he noticed how dark and dreary this place was compared to the sunshine that blessed their home. Even in the deep shrubbery that was White Lily’s personal residence, the faint traces of sunlight could be seen in the sprawling vegetation was in no doubt comforting to one such as her.

Here, however? Nothing but darkness and a foreboding sense that something was... off. As if this was a place no mere Cookie was meant to be.

“The Night of Witches...”

The Night of Witches? He recalled hearing about that back in the two’s school days. Though, no Cookie was able to learn much beyond its name. Something about it being too dangerous for them. Or those who devoted themselves to its research leaving one day— like Lily did after her crime, only to never return. Sentencing their knowledge to secrecy forevermore.

That would all change tonight.

Pure Vanilla had situated himself not far from the display of desserts Lily herself hid behind. That’s when he saw... them.

Even more towering than those grand displays were three figures; cloaked in dark robes and large hats not so different from what the practicing wizards he helped train wore. Yet, their hats lacked the crispy charm their waffle cone attire had. Those jagged edges bringing with it an air of uneasiness—unlike the soft breezes that passed through his kingdom’s canyons.

“...AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THESE! THEY LOOK AMAZING!”

… huh?

“PHEW! I BAKED A TON OF COOKIES!”

Cookies? Were these the celestials that blessed them with life—

“HERE, TRY ONE! YOU’RE GONNA LOVE IT!”

The crack that reverberated through the air could only be matched by one from all those years ago— that glass-shattering sound which marked his last day as a student of the Blueberry Yogurt Academy. Pure Vanilla never imagined there would be a sound more frightening and life changing than that.

… and yet, that crunch of a Cookie—one of their own—being bitten into. It was enough to turn even one as pure and sweet as he into a trembling mess. One hand covering his mouth as to contain the emotions that threatened to spill out as tears and screams.

White Lily, meanwhile, had never been able to maintain her composure well. Even back when she committed her original sin, the immediate regret and despair she felt was evident in her cries. And her inability to escape the doomed school without the help of her dearest friend. So, it came as no surprise that this revelation sent her into a spiral of mutterings, shaking, and... resolve? No, that last one was surprising. Her insistence that Cookies she hardly knew must escape was a sign of just how much stronger their endeavors with the other three had made her.

All her courage was met with were eerie smiles and silence, however. Perhaps these Cookies had already met their fate... doomed to become the next generation of tragedies.

How cruel... how defeating, Vanilla thought. No one deserved this.

“I...”

“--AAAAAH!”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes shot open as he watched the one dearest to him back away in despair, only to then fall backwards. Off the table edge she was so precariously situated upon. From his view, he had little idea what awaited her... but he was not about to let her find out.

He was not about to let her be subjected to more suffering than she already had.

The beholder always on his person could only glare and roll its eye as Vanilla threw it aside and dashed forward. Jumping into action—literally. He pushed himself forward with the swiftness of the wind, and his hand soon met with her own bandaged one.

He pulled Lily back over the table... throwing himself into the maul of the beast in her stead.

Pure Vanilla could only smile as gravity took hold of him. Smile as he always did... even as the rising heat threatened to crumble him before his body even touched that sickly-looking dough below. Regret could come later. For now, relief came out as a few stray tears and a soft whisper, "Thank you, gods—”

…

White Lily only sat there, wide eyed and shaking as she tried to process what on Earthbread just happened. The soft plop of Vanilla’s poor body made her feel the five four stages of grief in just ten seconds. Denial: there was no way this was happening. Anger: why did this have to happen; why did they have to continue to suffer? Bargaining: please, let the hands of time turn back and reverse this. Depression: this was all her fault.

Acceptance was the logical next step, but it was far too early for such a thing.

Her mouth opened and closed as wordless breaths came from trembling lips. Until, finally, she tried uttering one thing, “Vanilla—”

“WHOSE COOKIE IS THAT?”

Lily quickly covered her mouth, both to stifle her frightened voice and hold back the bile she felt bubbling up. Quickly, she took cover behind a stray plate covered in desserts. Such a sight didn’t do much for the sick feeling in her gut, but at least it offered her cover from the stares of those witches and ever-smiling Cookies.

“LOOK, IT FELL INTO THE ULTIMATE DOUGH!”

Fell? Into the Ultimate Dough? She had little to no idea what this Ultimate Dough was, or what it meant for Pure Vanilla. However, that was perhaps more terrifying than at least knowing her friend’s fate.

“”T’IS ALRIGHT! LET’S JUST BAKE IT AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!”

… Huh?

“YEAH, LET’S BAKE IT!”

No... please—

“LET’S SEE WHAT FORTUNA HAS IN STORE!”

Thick streams of syrup ran down White Lily’s face. She wanted to scream for this all to cease so badly, and she probably would have if she could. This couldn’t be happening. This endless night... their endless suffering had to end eventually, right? From their mad dash into the night following the destruction she caused, to this night they were taught was beyond sacred...

Her endless mistakes couldn’t continue to doom them both, right!?

She could only sit and watch as those cruel hands of theirs began to knead the dough. How each tool so effortlessly and callously did its job: the flattening done by the rolling pin... the cutting of the dough with a tool she remembered gliding her hand across all those years ago. How cold and hollow such metal had been...

Was Pure Vanilla feeling all of this? All the, no doubt, painful experiences such cruel gods wrought?

White Lily became consumed by thoughts such as these. It was all so gut-wrenching to watch, and yet she couldn’t pull her gaze away. It was all so disturbingly mesmerizing.

Soon, many bodies laid across baking sheets normally used as parchment by Cookies. Could one of them be the friend she’d go to hell and back to save? She almost hoped none of them were. As the unfortunate fate of these Cookies was not lost on her.

How could it be? Such a loud crunch left a stain no amount of scrubbing and scratching could rub off.

All those poor, unfortunate souls were then moved over to the oven almost every Cookie escaped from. Perhaps what were once thought as gods had finally grew tired of their endless torture and torment... for now, at least. Soon, they’d move from simply trying their handiwork to...

No, Lily couldn’t bear to remember what The Night of Witches meant for the Cookies who fell victim to it. To witness to it all again.

She needed to get out of here. Fast.

Trembling, White Lily began forcing her old, tired limbs to move. Her staff acting as a cane to support the weight of both her body, which felt on the verge of crumbling, and her new sins. Someone needed to get out of here. Someone needed to tell this story.

Pure Vanilla’s sacrifice couldn’t be for nothing.

… That was when a wave of doom washed over her. This feeling... this... scent. She knew it well. The smell of molasses and pomegranates: Black Magic unique to the priestesshood they visited as young wizards. How... could the witches have gotten a hold of such magic?

And, more importantly, why did magic familiar to her fill Lily with such fear?

She was given no time to theorize. Rather than the sound of breaking glass or crunching of their fragile bodies, the clanking sound of metal vibrated throughout the room. Catching the attention of anyone conscious to it: including the witches and White Lily. The oven doors... they were slammed wide open through no fault of the ones using them. Whatever the answer was to her previous inquires, it was coming. Soon. She could feel it.

A whisper fell from her lips, “What—”

“Ha... HA.... AH HA HA HA HA HA!”

If her magenta irises could widen any more, they did so as that howl echoed around her. A familiar yet twisted laugh. One that was far too sickeningly sweet to mean good fortune.

It can’t be—

“Haaa... who could have known?” relief and a newfound truth came from the reborn Cookie’s lips. A truth as clear as the finest sugar crystals. “Who could have known it was so simple!! All the world’s problems... they all have one simple answer!!”

Another clang of metal reverberated as it slammed the fork-turned-staff against the oven. The loud noise awakening the thing on its aforementioned staff—revealing a burning cyan iris. Such an intense stare could serve as a declaration of its own, but the staff’s commander still offered its own words to those there to bear witness, “Witches... Cookies... truly, none of them have the right, nor should be given the privilege, to define our fate.”

This can’t be real.

“Reborn in a new body... and with a new name. Yes, you lot may call me Black Molasses Cookie—the one true god of this world.”

Pure Vanilla?, White Lily thought: dumbfounded and speechless.

The Witches, meanwhile, gave Black Molasses not a second of respite. Or rather, one Witch didn’t. That one fool amongst them lunged forward in an attempt to grab what was meant to be a tasty treat to them. No doubt to crush and then... eat him. He was just a Cookie, after all. What harm could he truly cause?

“Ha... foolish—”

Two eyes opened and glared at those who should terrify all Cookies: one a familiar cyan to the trembling wallflower, and the other a red that burned a hole straight through her very soul. “As I just said...” he declared “Only I get to define our fates!!”

Seeming to know what its master wanted, a soft glow emanated from the staff before a beam was fired straight towards the Witch. That which wiped one of her elongated fingers clean off. Not a drop spilled from the cauterized wound, but the smell of burning... something made Lily feel even sicker than she already did.

Meanwhile, Black Molasses laughed as his first victim wailed in agony, “HA HA!! That’s what—” his incoming tirade was interrupted when those wails and screams of the Witches turned into a mad dash, “Awww, leaving so soon? Don’t forget—you left your cakes in the oven!!”

Everything happened so fast. Cake beasts arose at the slam of his staff— awakened by its call. Their feral growls and gnawing were not directed at Cookiekind this time, however. Instead, they chased after the fleeing Witches. Bearing their fangs until they found something to sink their fangs into.

White Lily could only stare in horror at what it was.

Pained and agonized screams left the Witch who, just moments ago, had the misfortunate of losing a finger. If only all she lost tonight was that finger. Now, the beasts’ crunching fangs tore at what was left of her withering body and corrupted soul. Until not a single wail was left. And all that filled the air was a metallic scent and the howling of beasts all too pleased with their work.

“Remember this night well, everyone!!! As, tonight, I have shown the world why I am to be the one who divines and rules above all!!”

The Cakes howled louder at such a declaration.

No. No, this couldn’t be... this wasn’t her dearest friend—

“Waah...”

Finally, a much more pleasant sound registered in White Lily’s senses. A child’s voice. How had she not noticed someone so young was but a few steps away from her. Were they cowering there the entire time? Alone? Regardless, she wouldn’t let them be alone for any longer. “Young one, Do you... we need to...” A surprised gasp came as, upon closer inspection, she noticed, “Your arm—!!”

“My, my~ and what do we have here?”

There was no time for her to push the issue. Quickly, White Lily assumed a defensive position in front of the young Cookie. Or... as defensive of a pose she could assume.

Her gaze betrayed her. For the agony and fear behind her eyes served to show just how despaired she truly was. Just how much she looked at Black Molasses and knew one thing: this was all her fault. Whatever happened next could’ve been prevented if it weren’t for her twisted, curious mind. White Lily had no right to convince him otherwise, and yet she persisted, “Vanilla, I—”

“Ah, you still see that old fool in me, do you now?” not a single ounce of respect was given to what Black Molasses considered a mere fragment of his past, “Tell me, dearest Lillia.” he jeered, “You saw the same thing we all saw. You, me, and even that child... yet you look on at my divine judgement in fear. Why?”

“I...”

He sighed. “Perhaps you consider my methods too cruel? Too beneath Cookies meant to help others?” with every word used to poke at her resolve, he took a step closer to both Lily and the child she kept guard over—blue flames rising and dancing from the back of his gown, “And what of you, young one? What do you think of this night Cookies are told is blessed and holy?”

“Leave them out of--”

“Black... Molasses Cookie...?”

“There, there. I hear you, child.” with a flick of his staff, White Lily was hoisted into the air and thrown to the side like a toy who had long outlived its value. A helpless yelp punctuated the thud that followed. Black Molasses didn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, his focus shifted towards the kid, “You who lost your arm— no doubt to those infernal Witches— understands the need for the world to be rebuilt, yes?”

The child nodded, “Hm... I guess... yes.”

“Then follow me.” A gentle smile accompanied his invitation. “I can not only provide that which you need, but I can also show you a better world. One built in my image... I need but your name and devotion.”

“... Red... Velvet Cookie.” the young one responded. The simple act of sharing his name serving as an allegiance to this new Cookie’s vision.

“I see, Red Velvet...” Black Molasses mused as his hand met with the velvet-soft locks of Red Velvet’s hair. Then, his attention turned back towards Lily, “And as for you~”

The previous impact had left White Lily rather shaken and dazed, on the border of consciousness and unconsciousness. Really, it was surprising she wasn’t out like a light by now. What with the exhaustion that came with tonight’s events and the thud she had experienced earlier.

“Still awake, are we?” a crooked smile, and then Black Molasses held her chin in his hand. Directing what little of an attention span she had left towards him. Only him, “Consider my mercy, in spite of your waywardness, a blessing.” he leaned in close, crooning into her ear “I have great plans regarding you. For now, have sweet dreams... then, warn the world of my name.”

Black Molasses then let Lily’s head drop back down before turning his back to her. Leading Red Velvet away from his disciple with some remaining doubts and back towards the oven. They had a great deal of baking to do, after all. Plenty of baking... especially of one particular soul who deserved the ultimate payback.

“... not that any such warning will stop me, of course.”

And with that, White Lily slipped into unconsciousness. That sickeningly sweet laughter lingering in the air as she hoped this was all just one bad dream...

//Hello!! Peach (Katie) here!!!! I'd like to thank you for reading my work-- it means a lot to me that anyone would be willing to check out my writing. Trying to figure out both White Lily's internal conflicts, and how Black Molasses would differ from Dark Enchantress, was a lot of fun. I definitely want to revisit this AU both in writing and drawing over time!!

If you would be interested in anything else I do (as I'm primarily an illustrator), check me out on Twitter @peachyqueenly, A03 @Peach_KT, and instagram @peach_kt. Thank you so much again, and I look forward to bringing everyone my next creation.

Quick credit to Cookie Run Kingdom for some of the lines-- as some were remained unchanged or slightly edited to fit the scene.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #white lily cookie #pure vanilla cookie #cookie run oc #black molasses cookie #red velvet cookie

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

It's Task Force 141's first mission after gathering intel about the whereabouts of Samantha Coleman. Gary and the rest of the team proceed to briefing and would probably head straight to their rescue mission. Do these mini summaries even make sense? Find out soon.

Chapter 3 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Soap - F.N.G.

"Run Through the Jungle"

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 - Mess Hall

Gary was almost done with his raccoon story when the PA system alerted them of an immediate briefing. Simon nodded to him and got up making his way to the briefing room. Gary also noticed the rest of his squad from earlier walk to the door, and was France crying on Alex? Much to his curiosity, he went to John who was still sitting by the chair.

"Anything you want to tell me, Soap?" he asked, patting his comrade's shoulder.

"Bugger off, mate. Let's just go to the meeting." he replied, Roach couldn't tell if he was sad or disappointed or mad, but it may have something to deal with France crying.

"Whatever mate. I'm always here if you want to talk it out." he assured, and he was in fact true. It's been a month since the Task Force was created and Gary was the team's therapist, everybody's friend and ally no matter what. He always felt that he could feel everyone's emotions and believes he could be a sponge for someone who's unable to deal with the trauma. Ghost was one of his customers, he had a lot to deal with and Gary was always there for him.

"Few hours ago, our informants intercepted with a group of armed men on a safehouse near the borders of Germany. They told us that there was a man named Augustus who happens to be our step closer to Nero." Gary took note of the information General Shepherd relayed, his scribbles became faster as the General continued.

"We also received word that our hostage, Samantha Coleman is with them in one of these houses. We have to proceed with caution as this area may be rigged with traps or surrounded with tangos." he added.

"As for rules of engagement, fire only when fired upon. This is a local settlement and civilians may be anywhere. We don't want to create unnecessary civilian casualties just to retrieve a single person." he instructed. Gary took a quick survey of the room, everyone looked at the screen intently, he could see MacTavish's eyebrows furrowed in anger, France's eyes were downright sad and Alex, despite being a CIA agent, actually looked worried.

"As for assignments, I'll let your captain take the floor." Shepherd concluded and exited the area, Price then stepped forward and began briefing.

The silent chirping of the crickets echoed from the nearby forest. Gary took a cold exhale and leaned on the railings just outside their quarters.

"Big day tomorrow, huh?" Ghost surprised Roach as he spoke.

"Yeah, it's been a long time since I spotted, but I still know the basics." Gary answered. He and Ghost were assigned for sniper support a few clicks away from the Alpha Team lead by Alex and the Bravo Team lead by Captain Price.

"Your math is good and fast?" Ghost asked, chuckling at the question. Gary inhaled before he answered the question.

"Yeah. Try me." he dared, glancing at the masked man.

"Suppose there's a target about 516 meters far, the wind is one half value." Ghost planned out the situation. Gary's gears started turning as he scratched his freshly shaven chin.

"Five degrees. Descending." he muttered. Ghost thought about it and agreed.

"Yeah. Your math is still on point." he mused laughing at him.

"What do you think Nero is up to? I mean it all doesn't add up. And what's with erasing memories?" Gary flooded the man with questions. Simon just pondered without saying any words.

"I dunno mate. I'm as baffled as you are." he replied, waving to Alex and France who were out on a late night walk.

"Say Gary, what's the deal with the new girl? One minute she looks tough as nuts then the second Soap comes in she's fucking crying?" Ghost rambled. Gary could feel a hint of jealousy but not entirely. It's as if he's mad and jealous at the same time.

"Well, we were too far from their table and I couldn't hear anything. Maybe they had an argument while Soap was out with her on the training room?" Gary speculated, he saw Simon's fists clench as he left his side.

"Eh. Not that I care anyway. Get some rest, spotter. Big day tomorrow." he remarked and went to his room.

"Yeah yeah." he replied waving at the two walking around the oval. They both waved back and Gary yelled good night to them before entering the quarters himself.

Gary plopped on his bed and closed his eyes. He was actually nervous enough that he could hear his own heartbeat, he took deep breaths and lulled himself to sleep. He wanted to see to it that they save the hostage tomorrow and a perfect sleep is what he could contribute right now.

GERMANY

0458H

Gary hated the ghillie suits. It was heavy, uncomfortable and animals sometimes land on you, but it does the job well. Treading the dense forestry just above the safehouse, Gary and Simon head out to look for a perfect spot.

"This one's got a view of the houses." Ghost whispered, signaling Roach to move forward.

"This is Echo Three One, we've cleared the two houses on the right, all empty. Over." Alex reported over their comms.

"Bravo Six copies that and the two houses here are also clear." Price reported.

"Looks like it's going to be the one on the far side." Soap concluded.

"I've got eyes on the safehouse. There's no activity on all windows. Proceed with caution." Ghost reported.

"Rog." Price replied.

"Copy that, eye in the sky." Alex replied.

Gary put out his spotting scope and placed his eye behind the lens.

"I've got my eyes on them, Ghosty. Alpha Team is on its way." he whispered.

Ghost rolled some knobs on his sniper making a soft clicking sound as he spins it.

"Don't call me that, Bug. I have eyes on Bravo Team. Still no movement from the safehouse."

"This is Alpha Team, approaching the left side of the safehouse."

"Bravo Team is Oscar Mike as well."

"Roach, did you see that?" Ghost whispered.

"Yeah. The winds are shifting." Gary noted, sticking out a tool that detects wind speed.

"Three Fourths value at 400 meters. 15 miles per hour. Adjust to 15.3" he informed, calculating on Ghosts still shoulder with a pen. Decimals are too dangerous to calculate mentally. Ghost's sniper clicked once again to adjust with the wind, he took a deep breath and his targets stabilized once again.

Leaves rustled behind them, Roach quickly held on his rifle and slowly turned back to check if it was an animal. Nothing, but before turning back on his scope, he saw a black figure from the corner of his eye.

"Bollocks. We've got movement on our Six." Roach reported.

"Remember our ROE, Roach. Fire only when fired upon." Price reminded.

"I'll take care of it from here. You go check on that." Ghost said as he turned back to his scope.

"Roger that. Be safe." Roach quickly ran to the direction if the rustling.

He couldn't make out much of the figure, but he was sure enough it was human. He tried to look for areas where the leaves were disturbed but with the wind picking up, he was clueless. Then there it was again, movement. He quickly dashed to it's direction, not wanting to get lost again. His boots slapped the fresh soil as he made his wauy to a clearing.

'Left, right then left by the rocks.' Gary mentally noted his each turn so he could easily remember but when he's chasing someone whom he felt like it doesn't know where it goes, then it's a whole different story.

Gary was alone in the windy forest, in pursuit of a person who's out on the woods at five in the morning. He wanted to go back but there's something that bothered him and convinced him to keep chasing it.

"Roach, you okay? They're almost in the safehouse." Ghost pointed out.

"Yeah haaaah… I'm still haaaah… hot on its trail." Gary panted. He suddenly turned when he heard a yelp.

"It's a girl. It might be our hostage." he radioed and followed the direction of the sound.

Soft sobs and English curse words could be heard from where Gary emerged. This alerted the injured female and she plead at the British solider.

"Please. I'm not an enemy. I'm I'm- I don't know who I am or where I am… Please. Don't hurt me." She was an American girl, possibly around 20-30 years old and had blonde hair wearing a black tank top and grey sweatpants, there were a few bruises on her arms and she was threatening him with a stick.

"Maam, put down your weapon and calm down. I will not hurt you." he dropped his weapon slowly on the ground stepped forward, his hands both raised.

"Good good. I need help." she whimpered, looking at her sprained ankle.

Gary immediately took his ghillie off and ripped a piece of his sleeves to wrap around the sprain, treating it with something from his medical kit.

"There you go… You're feeling better now? Maam?" Gary accommodated. The unknown blonde nodded in agreement.

"So.. you don't know who you are?" Gary asked.

"All I know is that I'm with another girl, Brunette." she added.

"I located the one out on the woods. She's American but I can't ID her. She's about 20 - 30 years old, short blonde hair." Gary informed.

"Is that Maxine?" Alex and France simultaneously replied over comms.

"Excuse me. Do you go by Maxine?" Gary asked politely. The girl quickly covered her ears and screamed.

"Aaaaaah! My head hurts!" She yelled. Gary was quick enough to cover her mouth as soon as she opened it as to not give away their presence.

"I don't know if that's a yes or a no guys. But that definitely is a reaction." Gary said over the comms. He assisted "Maxine" and lifted her up as he tries to get back to Ghost.

"Thick trees everywhere. Any Idea where you are Ghost?" he asked over the secure radio.

"I'm at the same spot I've been since we got here. Can't you retrace your steps?" he replied.

"I could try." he muttered, carrying an unconscious woman on his shoulders across the jungle.

Next Chapter : Déjà vu

#horRAYfic #codmw #codmwfic #gary roach sanderson #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #Roach deserves some love

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blackbirdos · 3 years

Text

It is almost cold on the balcony when Kutkha steps outside, and, as usual, the stars cannot be seen well through the thickness of the light pollution. He should be asleep, but the city is not, and there are probably a hundred other people just like him creeping outside for some air, to quell their churning thoughts. Kutkha inhales a shaky breath then moves over to the railing, stooping so that he can lean his elbows on it and look down into the dark street below. He likes the cold in a way he can’t explain. Before Earth, Kutkha had never shivered from a chill or sweat from the heat of the sun. Therefore, the temperature is unfamiliar to him, but unfamiliarity makes Kutkha feel the most like himself, devoid of the perfect prison he was born in. Difficult to explain, but nonetheless, truth.

Kutkha finally exhales. The feeling of it does not alleviate the weight in his chest, nothing has for a long while, but he can distract himself by watching lonely figures pass along the sidewalk far beneath him. The street lights cast them in long, cartoonish shadows, and they come and go, drifting off to their homes or work or lives. Kutkha does not know. Sometimes when he is out here, he likes to guess what their lives might be like, what his life could have been like if he was just like them.

Would he be happier if he had been born here? If he did not know what he knows?

He does not know.

Kutkha shifts and the railing creaks beneath him, then he stands up, drumming his fingers off the painted wood. What would a human do if up late with a restless mind? Perhaps play a game, watch a show, read, but nothing has been able to distract Kutkha from the ache in his chest, the need to move. He has tried everything else already; sometimes it is easier to just give in.

And so, he thinks.

His mind wanders first to the smell of old paper and bad coffee -- though all coffee is bad in Kuthka’s silent opinion. Logan is sitting across the table from him and frowning down at a journal that he’s referred to several times as ‘bullshit’, but has continued to read. It is endearing. It is also not the first time Kutkha has decided to step out of his metaphorical shell to spend time with Logan. The both of them come from vastly different lives, but they mesh well together in private, as both of them find silence companionable.

It is nice, Kutkha had thought at the time and thus thinks now upon reminiscing, and it is fulfilling to be a part of someone’s peace. He thinks of Logan’s struggles, of his journey to fit into this strange, unforgiving life, and relates to it immensely, but the two of them never speak of it.

There is no need to. Instead, Kutkha flips the page in his book and frowns at a diagram. They, after a while, talk about the finality of dust. To start as the leftovers of dying stars, to end, someday, the same.

Kutkha shuffles from foot to foot, drawn out of his memory by the honking of an impatient car down on the street far below. He turns to his dark apartment, intending to return inside and maybe… sit downstairs and read something, but he stops in distraction. He is wrong about his earlier assessment: the sky is especially clear tonight and he can see more stars than usual, though it is nothing like when he’d gone camping. The barest, ghost of a twinkle stands out of the clear, grey-blue sky. He is drawn to them in a way he is drawn to nothing else.

He steps up to the metal ladder that leads to the roof, climbs it gingerly, and stands with his eyes to the moon. Perhaps he could have simply teleported to the spot, but there was something inexplicably attractive to physical exertion, to the feeling of getting something done and feeling his muscles work in his body. He can feel the blood in his fingers, rushing along, and it is enough to remind him that he is indeed alive and standing there.

On the roof, the city yawns open before him. He walks to the opposite edge, watching out across dark buildings, and distantly the glitter of water in the bay. There is a breeze that ruffles his hair and he closes his eyes, overcome with the feeling that maybe it could blow him across the stretch of lights, across the sea, somewhere else.

Instead, he thinks of another time.

Emmett’s house smells like some unknown dessert as Kutkha steps inside, gingerly kicking off his shoes by the door as he had a dozen times before. Today, they will be building a model garage for the model house that had been in the works, and Kutkha’s fingers itched for the complicated embroidery that Emmett had promised. Kutkha bends to say hello to the little dogs that run up and greet him, but when he looks up, he notices another person coming to say hello alongside Emmett.

Oh, it’s Gardner. Kutkha feels strange about him in a way he can’t place, but not negatively. Kutkha vaguely recalls Emmett mentioning his presence days before, and Kutkha is happy to make room for someone a little new. He tells himself perhaps the strangeness is just a form of unfamiliarity, though Kutkha knows it is not.

He remembers what Gardner said about himself some time ago, plain and bare, and Kutkha understands intimately. To be a part of something huge and fearsome, to play a role bigger than yourself, not precisely knowing the consequences until it’s too late. Kutkha watches Gardner struggle to paint adhesive to the back of a small piece of wood for a tool cabinet and feels safe, here, despite the hesitance of others. It is a small normalcy that ends too soon.

The chill of the night time finally gets to Kutkha, just a little, and he finds that he’s tucked his bone-white fingers in his underarms for a modicum of warmth. It does not help much. It is just a distraction from a distraction. It’s now long past the time of just catching fresh air and Kutkha should go inside, maybe make some tea or, if truly despondent, put on a coat and go for a walk. He could see some of the kittens in the alleyway that have been too skittish to coax out from under the dumpster -- maybe this time one of them will take the step and accept the gentle offer of cheese.

Instead, Kutkha exhales, watching the steam roll off his lips. Breathing is second nature, as it is with most residents of this planet, but Kutkha finds that when he holds his breath, the sharp pang of need hardly comes. He does not know what to make of it, the idea that his habits are only learned and he keeps them only for comfort.

Still, inside of him is warmth somewhere like with anyone, as told by the steam.

Another memory flits through Kutkha’s mind, one that is shorter and more precious all the same. He and Amin are entertaining Alex for the evening, and Amin has run upstairs to take a phonecall. Alex is visibility enamored by the click-clack of Amin’s paws on the steps as he disappears from view.

“So, what have you been up to? I feel like we’ve barely talked even though we’re always in each other’s space,” Alex asks him after a beat of silence.

“I don’t know,” Kutkha answers. He looks at Alex who is looking at him oddly, like Kutkha is some kind of question he can’t figure out. Alex has big, bright eyes that give away every emotion. The next words slip out of Kutkha on accident, “Biding my time, mostly.” “Biding your time? What does that mean?” Alex asks immediately. He always speaks faster than his brain can comprehend words. “Hey, you know, I feel like you used to talk a lot more when I came over. Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Kutkha replies after a beat. His mind is spinning from his strange admission. The question is so simple and so complicated all at once. “My mind has been racing all the time. Things are… okay, though. Thank you for asking. How have you been?”

Miraculously Alex drops it. Maybe he understands how it feels to be afraid to answer a truth you aren’t ready for.

In hindsight, Kutkha should have said more when someone had given him the opportunity, when he didn’t have to hide behind a veneer of shame that he was not entirely grateful he was here. The time is passed. He no longer has the energy to explain to himself or others how he feels about his place in the universe.

There is order and chaos, space and time, and he is none of them. He has seen countless histories unfold and snuff out like the wick of a candle on its own wax. He hates knowing. He wishes that he could just --

A sharp inhale and Kutkha shakes his head.

He remembers Lilius. He remembers the small victories, of Wil giving Charlie a big hug, or the rebels crying and singing in celebration before Kutkha is strong enough to bring them home. He remembers how everyone meshes together, how bonds are formed, how much he has struggled to be normal, to stand all of this.

He thinks of everyone coming home and finding a place within each other. He knows they are all grateful of Kutkha’s ability to have brought them there. He knows he is loved and wanted, that he has people to rely on, that he has a home, but he cannot escape the fact that he does not belong here.

He does not belong here.

The thought hits him like a brick. He bares his teeth.

Another memory, and he is laying in bed next to Amin midday during a rainstorm. Amin is half-dressed and asleep, the front of his chest gently brushing against Kutkha’s shoulder blades whenever he breathes. Everytime they touch, Kutkha is jolted with teases of memory, of Amin’s family, his parents, his siblings, various other things that only made sense to a dreamer. A room full of kucing sharing a traditional meal from their planet, only now crucial ingredients replaced with similar Earthen ones, and eaten on paper plates with plastic forks instead of carved ghilka wood.

It is all Amin knows, but Kutkha has seen the alternative. He has never spoken of it and Amin has never asked, but Kutkha has heard the ringing dialogue of an ilmir king and the striking of stone upon flesh. He has heard the rattling magic in the bones of the planet, the sprawling jungles and cities and deserts. He has seen what Amin will never get to see, what he was supposed to have, what he could have if it wasn’t for Kutkha and the purpose he was born into.

Kutkha lies still, unable to move. All he can think about is that it is a burden to know. He does not want to know, but he cannot forget.

It is a long time before Kutkha moves from the cold, empty roof back down onto the balcony and into the apartment as quietly as a ghost. The gray-blue darkness around him is tinged with the faint pink of morning and he has again not rested as he has not rested in days. He kicks off his shoes, hangs up one of the sweaters he’d borrowed off of Amin’s nightstand and glances back towards the sliding glass doorway he had shut on the way in.

He sees himself as glassy and transparent, a dark shape, superimposed over the outside world. A figment of something not really here.

Something that doesn’t belong, but something that has nothing else to do but stay.

#standalone #writing #kutkha #unfortunately ur character might be mentioned in here! fucked up

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chocolateheart · 4 years

Text

Complicated

Title: Complicated

Word count: 4651 (a lot, I know, I’m sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: The hunt brings them together, the past comes back, the feelings are complicated.

Warnings: the mix of fluff and angst, fear of love, fear of talking about emotions and feelings, tension, blood, violence, fight, body harm, wounds, dead bodies, graphic description of all that. If I missed something, let me know!

A/N: This is my one shot for @jensengirl83 200 followers challenge. Congrats again, babe! You gave me a free hand and said to go crazy so here I am with almost 5k words, hahah. My prompt was “You look like hell. How did you get in such a mess?” I got kinda lost in the middle of this but somehow I managed to finish it and I’m sorry for posting it that late but yeah, life happened. I hope you’ll like it!

A/N: Huge thanks to my hunny bunny beta @winchest09 <3 The amount of patience you have for me, oh girl…

A/N: @talesmaniac89 thank you for those amazing dividers! <3

It was quiet when Y/N entered the building. The house was huge and old, wooden walls cracking every so often under the pressure of the wind. The night felt cold but single drops of sweat rolled down her neck. She adjusted the machete in her hand and scanned the large area of the first floor, flinching when something crunched under her boots. She looked down and noticed little crystals of broken glass glistening in the moonlight that creeped through the dirty window. The more she looked around, the more she acknowledged the details of the fight that had taken place right where she was standing. Damaged commode, planks strewn around, broken handrail and shattered glass.

Trying to find any clues, Y/N carefully eyed every inch of the room and frowned, spotting something next to the dusted armchair. Crouching down she touched it and with a small sigh discovered it was a red liquid.

Blood.

Rubbing her middle and index finger with her thumb, she noticed the blood was fresh; the person it belonged to was here a couple of hours ago. Hoping the victim was still alive, Y/N stood up, brushing lonely strands of her hair away from her face. The place seemed to be empty, silence pinching her ears; the vampire's nest was never that calm before. This made her stomach twist; something was wrong. It was like she made a mistake with the location, like no one was here but she was sure it’s the right place, it had to be. Suddenly a smell hit her and made her instinctively reach for the gun. Sulfur.

Nonsense. She was following vamps for weeks now. Was it possible that somehow she stepped on demons? Why here, why now?

She knew she should check the basement first but the blood tracks were leading upstairs. Old, dirty carpet covering the stairs was nearly soaked in it. The uneasy thought of finding a dead body crossed her mind and she swallowed thickly. Taking careful, quiet steps Y/N looked up to be ready in case something wanted to take her by surprise. She didn’t even make it to the first floor when she heard screams, muffled by the house. She rolled her eyes and cursed herself.

Basement, you idiot. It's always the basement.

Still quiet but faster now she came back downstairs, crossing the living room and after praying it won’t crack loud, she opened the door that led underground.

Angry voices reached her ears when she got to the concrete floor. Slowing down she tightened her grip on her weapon’s helve and moved forward, alert and tense.

“Where is it?!” The question was followed by the sound of a beating.

Weak laugh was barely audible but it tickled her in a weird way she couldn’t exactly name; like she heard it before.

“You think I’m gonna tell you?”

This voice. She stopped in her tracks, hidden behind the pillar holding the ceiling; listening, not believing what she had heard. Another punch, then the sound of spitting, probably with blood.

“You can beat the shit out of me but you’ll get nothing.” Her heart skipped a beat when she finally realised who this voice belonged to.

Dean.

Peeping from behind the pillar for a quick second, she noticed three, maybe four figures standing with their backs to her and a chair, bathed in a dim light of the bulb hanging above Dean’s head who was tied down.

Laying her head back, Y/N closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She had to be quick and effective; no second chances, no mistakes. Planning her moves she felt shivers running down her spine. Her hands fisted in irritation as she cursed the man she was about to save; no matter how much time had passed, when it was about saving his ass, she was always more concerned.

The moment she was all ready to jump and slice, ignoring the question of why fangs were keeping Dean, something in the dark corner caught her attention and stopped her. Narrowing her eyes Y/N focused on the pile laying on the ground. It took her few seconds but finally she saw it; bodies covered in blood, heads cut off, with open eyes and mouths that showed rows of sharp teeth.

Vampires.

Y/N’s breath quickened. If this bunch of dead bodies was what she was looking for then who the hell was beating Dean? Her mind wandered to the scent of sulfur she smelled before. It didn’t make any sense but there was no other option - they were demons. Putting away the machete, Y/N took out her gun. She had to figure something out. Hunting demons wasn't exactly in her schedule for tonight, all needed tools were in the car; suddenly she felt weirdly naked.

Before she could make any move, she heard steps coming from the stairs. She felt on edge, surrounded, surprised and put in a position where she had a harmed man to save. She was in trouble.

Light panic creeped into her as she searched for solution; eyes flicking around, landing finally on a little platform she could easily fit onto. Smirking at the idea, she changed the pistol for the crossbow on her back and took out the bottle with holy water she always carried with her. Y/N disappeared into the shadows before the approaching demons could see her.

Dean received yet another hit, straight in his jawline that was already swollen and pulsing. Spitting again he smiled; his teeth bloody, just like the rest of his face. Cut brow and lips, bruises already appearing, red streams coloring his freckled flesh. He could feel himself getting weaker; his head dizzy, muscles burning and his throat sore. Ropes on his wrists were so tight he was sure to find grey-blue marks later; if he ever gets out.

The demons surprised him, he was expecting bloodsuckers not those dusty assholes.

Apparently hell douches had some issues with twilight so they teared them into pieces; taking Dean’s job from under his nose. And now they thought he had some information but he knew shit - another aspect that annoyed him. He had no idea what was going on and what they wanted. But he acted like he did, hoping they would accidentally spill some tea.

“Where is it?!” The demon hissed again, squeezing Dean’s face, forcing him to look up. One of his fingers digged into the cut on the cheek, causing more blood to pour.

“Bite me.” Dean hissed back, giving the torturer a hard, confident look and an arrogant smile.

The man lifted his fist, ready to hit the hunter again and just then something cut through the air with a whiz. The demon yelled as white smoke started floating from where the arrow got stuck in his body, burning him. It took Dean aback; he frowned confused, watching the douchebag stumbling around as another arrow flashed in front of his eyes, wounding the next demon. One by one they all were getting shot; screaming and grunting they seemed to be so vulnerable now. Then, with the corner of his eye, Dean spotted someone jumping down from a platform. Maybe this was someone willing to help him.

It was too dark and Dean was too tired to focus on who it was but he knew they were a hunter for sure. The stranger moved fast, ably slicing the distracted demons. Using the machete the hunter cut their flesh; more smoke, more pain. Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from the limber moves, from the facility that the weapon was used with. Even though he was mesmerised, the person's behavior seemed to be oddly familiar; his brain registered something that it had seen before, more than once.

After a few final flips of the wrist, the demons had enough; their heads tilted back, mouths opened and a black smoke flew out of them, disappearing in the darkness. The room got silent; the only sound was heavy breathing - female heavy breathing as Dean tried his hardest to pinpoint who it was.

She was standing with her back to Dean, scanning the room, still alert and high on adrenaline from the fight. She felt her muscles rippling, hands twitching, her hammering heart pumped blood that was rushing in her veins, raising her temperature as she observed bodies laying on the floor. Wetting arrows and her blade with holy water was a quick, unsure idea but it worked; she just wished she could save those people.

A few deep breaths helped her to calm down. She tugged the weapon behind the belt and turned to the Winchester, revealing who she was. Dean’s eyes widened as he discovered the stranger's identity and his heart made a tiny jump.

Memories hit him immediately, pelting him with the amazing time he had three years ago. It wasn't something Dean admitted out loud but he admired the badass girl from the second he laid his eyes on her. They clicked on the fight field, understanding each other without a word, they spent a couple of irreplaceable nights in bars and motels, exchanging thoughts, dreams and experiences. Dean didn’t find in her just a buddy he never knew he needed but also someone he could open his soul to without worrying about anything. Seeing her now felt like he was thrown to the past by angels; the only difference was that now, he enjoyed the circumstances.

“Y/N,” he said slightly surprised, his hoarse voice making her lips curl in a smirk. "What are you doing here?"

"Long story. Let's say I'm having a trip around the neighbourhood," she answered and took a closer look at him.

His face was damaged; cut, painted with blood and bruises, swollen in a few places. His right arm was wounded, crimson stains covering his ripped shirt. He was sweaty and breathing heavily; livid skin under his tired eyes. It's been a long time since she saw him looking like he got hit by a truck.

"You look like hell. How did you get in such a mess?" she asked as she pulled out a knife.

"Long story. Let's say I tripped." He mirrored her words, making her chuckle and grunted when she cut off ropes on his wrists.

After hours in the same position Dean got numb so with every move a small, pained moan escaped him. Y/N helped him to get up on his legs which shook a little under him. Offering her shoulder he partly leaned on, she grabbed his waist and headed to the exit. Hearing Dean chuckle, she looked up and as she saw those soft dimples, her mouth curled upwards.

"What's so funny, Winchester?" she asked as they passed by the collection of dead vamps.

"You saved my ass again. It's humiliating." She laughed out loud, satisfaction filling her up.

"Then we both deserve a drink."

The gas station near the motel was their source of food and alcohol that night. Y/N bought two large hot dogs and four beers, thereupon went back to the room where she left Dean.

Opening the door she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed; showered and clothed in a fresh v-neck and sweatpants. Cuts still red and open but his face was clean and focused as Dean was trying to stitch his wounded arm. Y/N could see he was frustrated because of his still slightly trembling hands.

She put down the bag and approached him, taking his hands in hers.

"Hey, let me do it," she offered, sitting down next to him.

He gave up with an irritated huff and turned his eyes away, embarrassed by his current clumsiness. She looked at him for a second and then focused on the needle in her hand.

The silence fell between them; both lost in their thoughts, suddenly a little bit uncomfortable with each other. Y/N felt her tummy tightening and she swallowed, doing her best to not let her eyes wander, but it was in vain.

This man looked like he was straight from the cover of a magazine. From his strong arms that could easily crush her, through to his tanned skin with a constellation of adorable freckles she swore to count one day. To his calloused hands with long, thick fingers that could so deliciously travel across her body. His firm stomach hidden under the thin material of the t-shirt; the same stomach she had stitched in the past, the stomach she secretly wanted to scratch and kiss.

"Ouch," Dean's sudden hiss brutally detached Y/N from her thoughts and she understood she lost control over her hand, stinging his healthy skin.

"Sorry," she answered quickly.

Y/N knew things were going to be this way when her eyes met his green ones back in the basement. She knew that meeting him again would make her weak and she was right, nothing had changed. He still had the same influence on that he’s always had.

The huntress wasn't exactly a person who fell so easily; who would get wet without any sexual contact. Her heart wasn't such a sucker for feelings, her head wasn't so easily distracted. Yet with Dean it was different, and it was annoying because she didn’t have control over her own self.

Shaking her head, she finished the job and rolled down his sleeve as Dean cleared his throat.

"Thanks," he muttered and she shrugged with a small smile.

"Not a big deal, it's just stitching." She wanted to stand up but Dean stopped her by grabbing her hand.

Y/N skin was so soft under his fingertips, almost like silk. He knew it had a lot of scars and marks but that just made it more beautiful. Every little imperfection of hers was perfect for him; reminding him of the angel she was, fighting to save lives. Dean was always amazed by how she was a badass hunter and warrior but everytime she wasn’t cutting heads, she seemed so small, so tiny when he held her. His body and heart instinctively needed to protect her from the evil with everything he had.

His unsure, emerald eyes made Y/N frown, making Dean realise he froze with his fingers around her wrist, staring at her.

"Thank you for saving me," he said quietly and watched as her lips widened in a smile.

For a mere second he thought about how they could feel against him; warm and soft, moving in sync with his, followed by the sweet taste of her tongue. Blinking he pushed away those thoughts, glad she couldn’t read his mind. Familiar fear of her finding out flitted through him, stimulating his nerves. It was pathetic; a grown ass man was scared to say what he felt but in his case it wasn’t anything new.

"Always a pleasure to save a Winchester's ass," she said slightly amused and he rolled his eyes with a smile; this attitude. "Hungry?" she asked standing up but she already knew the answer.

"Starving." Pushing himself forward onto the bed, Dean leaned onto the headboard, stretching out his legs.

Taking a place next to him, she pulled out the food and drinks from her bag, receiving a pleasured "oh yes" from the hunter beside her.

They ate as they talked about what had happened in the last few years when they hadn't seen each other, recalling some events from the past and trying to understand what exactly had happened that day. With time and alcohol, the atmosphere loosened and they fully started to enjoy their mutual presence. Their laughs echoed in the room just like old times and for a moment it felt like they never separated.

By the time the birds started to sing outside, Y/N found herself in the same sitting position as Dean's, their arms brushing and legs briefly touching. She laughed as he talked about Sammy's drinking actions; she missed this giant, suddenly feeling the need to hug him.

"Um, listen…" he started and cleared his throat.

"Hmm?" Encouraging him, she took a sip from almost an empty bottle.

"It's actually good to see you," Dean mumbled as he rubbed his thumb on the glass he was holding. "I've missed you." She looked at him, her brows scrunching.

"Awww, Dean," she whined. "You gonna make me sob." The moment his eyes lifted up, she chuckled, trying to hide her smile in drinking.

"Shut up," he shot back with a grin. "I'm trying to be nice here." Shrugging he tilted the bottle and Y/N allowed herself to watch how his throat moved when he swallowed. Licking her lips she touched his hand, drawing his attention.

"I missed you too," she simply said and their eyes met.

But this time was different.

Maybe it was her slightly drunk mind, maybe it was the tiredness after a few days with not much sleep or maybe it was the usual dizziness she felt when she was with him. She didn’t know, but something stopped the time, erased everything around it and left only Dean.

He was so close she could see gold motes in the green ocean of his eyes; crystals shining so bright that every other stone was becoming a common rock in comparison. The eyes that could hypnotize you in a second and save you from darkness the next.

His unique smell surrounded her, warm vibrations radiating from his whole body and Y/N wasn't able to stop her mind when it created scenes she wished were real. Losing control over her imagination, his intense gaze turning off her rational thinking, she let her eyes drop to his lips and that was her mistake. Every time she yearned for him, dreaming about being his in every possible way, was nothing compared to what she felt now.

She was scared and confused because first, she thought she had gotten over this stupid love years ago and second, she didn't know why all those feelings were so strong now. She was always weak for him but not that weak.

Dean noticed when she swallowed, his own mouth watering. Allowing his emotions to take control of him wasn't exactly his style; especially not with her. But he felt his fingers itching and lips twitching when his mind focused on her. The soft features of her face, delicate, olive skin he would so gladly caress. Her pink lips, shaped like they were made for kissing; at least that's what he thought. The vision of her touching him the way those cheap one night stands did so many times, her warm body wrapping around him, slender palms mapping his every inch. It left him woozy, drunk on her.

The air was thick, their breathing quickened, pulse throbbing under the skin as their heartbeats thumped in their chests, little hairs standing up as goosebumps overlaid their bodies.

But even though it was strongly sexual, the heat so high it could burn the Earth, the thing hanging between them wasn't just physical attraction. Their hearts played the main role in the performance neither Dean nor Y/N thought of taking part in.

Years of admiration, of looking up to each other, of watching how the other person was just a good human being and then the break which made them realise how strong a connection they had; it made them fall for each other. But both of them were too scared to make a move, too blind to see the other wanted the exact same thing. So as soon as both their minds grew with the thought of leaning forward, they lowered their heads. Dean nervously scratched the back of his neck, feeling blush creeping up his skin as Y/N decided to sooth her trembling insides with the rest of beer.

Exchanging awkward smiles they unconsciously allowed their fears to win yet another battle. Knowing so well they wanted to taste the love but being too afraid of its power. To say their relations were complicated was an insult.

“So what do you think happened there? What did those demons want?” Y/N asked the next evening as they packed.

“No idea,” Dean answered, closing his bag. “But I’m about to find out. Sam is already digging, trying to find anything and I’m going back there tonight.” She turned around to look at him, frowning.

“What for?”

“They smashed up the place before I got there,” he lifted the bag and headed to the door, “maybe they missed something.”

“You think the fangs had whatever they were looking for?” Crossing her arms Y/N leaned back on the table. Dean shrugged, opening the door. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Woah, woah,” he stretched his hand forward, stopping her, “you’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” She looked at him with lifted brows and upon noticing he was not joking she huffed a short laugh.

“What?” the question was filled with amusement that rose up in her. He must be kidding.

“You’re staying here or going to Sam if you wanna help,” he stated and walked out to the Impala that was parked in front of the motel room. She looked at the empty space he stood in seconds ago, confused, with her arms open in a silent question.

“Wh- Dean!” she yelled and followed his tracks. “Are you kidding me? I’m not gonna stay behind!”

“Yes, you are.” He closed the truck of the black, muscle car. “This case stinks from miles, Y/N, it’s too dangerous.”

“Too dangerous?!” her voice raised up; her temper was short and telling her what to do was igniting the fire, especially considering he was assuming she couldn’t handle the situation. “Let me remind you I was the one who saved your ass yesterday! And it wasn’t the first time!” She watched as he walked around the Baby, avoiding her gaze.

“That’s not the point, Y/N. You’re not going,” he repeated firmly, turning his back to her which got on her nerves even more.

“You’re not gonna tell me what to do!” she leaned forward, pointing to the ground like it was putting the dot on her statement.

“Yes I will!” Dean hollered, turning to her before taking a few strong steps which made her straighten. She was taken aback by his sudden anger and eyes snapping towards her. “I will because I care about you.” His stare was so intense she felt her knees giving up as he slowly approached her. “And if you go there, and something happens, I’m never gonna forgive myself…” he made a pause and took a few deep breaths. “If I lose you,” he grabbed her arms tightly and lowered himself so he could level with her eyes. “I’m gonna lose my freaking mind.”

Y/N’s heart was banging in her chest as she searched his face, noticing how Dean’s eyes were glistening in the dim motel’s lights, shimmering with emotions. Sweat broke across her flesh as his words reached her mind.

What the hell does that mean?

“Dean, what-” she began but Dean immediately cut her off, shaking his head, tired with this game they had been playing for so long.

“Shut up.”

He firmly pulled her to him and crushed his mouth to hers. She froze, surprised and tensed. But as her brain processed what was happening and his lips slightly moved, she melted. Kissing him back, she gave him access and feeling his hot tongue, she lifted her hands to his hair. Fisting it, she arched to him and he enclosed her in his strong arms, sneaking them around her and on her back. His lips were even better than she imagined and despite the intensity he was kissing her with, she could feel how soft they were. Her mind was galloping, her heart beating so loud she was sure it’s gonna jump out or explode. Feeling Dean’s arms squeezing her, for the first time in so long she felt safe and she wanted to stay there for the rest of eternity.

She gave into him, leaning in, she kissed back. Dean’s mind was a mess; not only with the nerves and fear but the fact she didn’t push him away. Instead she clung to him, pulled him even closer - his heart went crazy. The relief filled him as she pushed herself flush to him, standing on her tiptoes, deepening the kiss, even moaning quietly. The taste of her lips and tongue hazed his brain, it was like a drug. But he wouldn’t let himself lose it completely; he needed to stay sober to drag her away from the idea of going with him. Breaking the kiss was harder than he expected, but he managed. Still holding her close, both of them panting, he rested his forehead against hers.

Finally she looked up, wanting to see his eyes but he kept them closed. Shivers were running over her body, she was high on the feelings that bursted between them. Dean’s cheeks moved as he gritted his teeth, deciding to spill everything while he still had courage.

“For three years I was thinking about you,” he said, his voice low. “You were crossing my mind every night and day but I couldn’t bring myself to call you. I knew you didn’t want to be here, that you needed your own life, that you didn’t want me. But that didn’t stop my feelings for you. Then when I saw you yesterday, they slapped me full force in the face. Now, when I have you back here, I can’t lose you. Leaving is one thing but getting killed is another.”

Y/N felt him trembling, his breathing ragged and voice shaking but words steaming with honesty. Being aware of how nervous he could be, she dropped her palm from the back of his head onto his cheek. Rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone, she searched for words she needed to say.

“I’ve always wanted you, Dean,” she spoke, causing his eyes to snap open and pierce into hers. Green orbs twinkling with sparkles of happiness and disbelief. “You were always the most important, even when I wasn’t here. You were constantly in my head but I thought I was just a friend.” He chuckled. “You’re more than a friend, sweetheart.” He pulled back and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “And that’s why you can’t go with me. Promise me you won’t go,” he pleaded, his eyes begging and worried.

“Dean, I could help,” she whispered but he shook his head.

“Promise me, Y/N.” She looked to the sky, taking a breath. She understood but her position was the same.

“I can’t,” whispering she let her hands fall off of him but Dean was still holding her. After a few moments he sighed, let her go and rubbing his face in exhaustion he looked at her, helpless.

“Okay, fine,” he gave up and a smile appeared on her face. “Go get your stuff.”

Instead of going straight away to get her bag, she leaned up and kissed him, slowly and softly. He melted into her, his brows jumping up on an unexpected action. She was so sweet; sweeter than any pie he ever had in his life. Pulling away she stayed close, watching him blinking the bliss away.

“Is it gonna look like that from now on? You will agree on anything I’ll say? Are you that weak for me?” she whispered into his lips and he chuckled low.

“Probably,” Dean answered as he caressed her forearms and briefly entwined their fingers. She pulled away fiercely, the idea shining in her widened eyes.

“Are you gonna let me drive her?” she asked excitedly but he burst into a laugh.

“Na-ah, sweetheart. That’s not gonna happen,” he answered with a warm smile and pulled her into one more kiss.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

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