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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year

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Here’s To The Future - Part 2: Cut and Run

Summary: The war’s over. That should be cause for celebration, except the wrong side won. Things begin to change quickly, and it doesn’t take long for Midnight to realize something’s not right among the clone army. She should be glad the war is over, but the threat of her losing her boys is all too real. She did swear she would do everything she could to keep them from being separated when the war ended.

She’s not going to give up on that promise. Even if it kills her.

Pairing: The Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

Warnings: Lots of emotions in this one, some PTSD, canon-typical violence, arguing, grief and mourning, injuries, a little bit of medical stuff.

A/N: This one took me longer than expected, but it’s a pretty emotionally heavy chapter. Midnight really goes through the wringer in this one. No smut, just lots of pain.

Sorry my Hunter girlies, I promise it won’t last forever.

Also I am still looking for a beta reader for this one, so if you’re interested…

< Previous | Next > | SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Midnight stares out the viewport, watching the stars pass. Tech had put the ship on autopilot before heading back to check on Wrecker. He had also been shot, and was being a big baby about being treated. It was likely none of them even knew she’d been shot. She’s okay with that for the moment. She needs to collect herself.

She can’t fall apart.

Not yet.

Midnight turns her head as she hears quiet footsteps, Omega entering the cockpit. She steps up towards the viewport, looking out at the stars as well. Midnight watches her quietly, knowing exactly what she’s thinking.

“Your first time in space?” Hunter asks, entering the cockpit as well. He pauses next to her seat, leaning his arm against it. He’d notice soon. He always notices.

“First time anywhere.” Omega says.

Midnight feels something stir in her chest. She knew what that was like. She remembered her first time seeing the sky, her first time seeing space. The first planet she’d visited.

“Impressive shot back there.” Hunter says. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“I don’t know.” Omega shakes her head. “I never fired a blaster before. I guess I got lucky.”

“She’s not the only one.” Tech says, walking back into the cockpit.

“I’m fine.” Wrecker says, being helped in by Echo. “It’ll take more than a blaster shot to take me down.”

“You were down.” Echo says.

“Well not for long!” Wrecker laughs, squeezing Echo’s shoulder but quickly groans in pain as it strains his own injured shoulder.

“What’s the plan, Hunter?” Tech asks from the pilot’s seat.

“I thought we could go off on our own. Lay low.” Hunter answers. “But with Crosshair gunning for us, I’m not so sure.”

“What about your friends? Could any of them help us?” Omega asks.

“That would be a short list.” Tech says.

“I can think of one.” Hunter says. “Plot a course for J-19.”

“J-19?” Echo asks, obviously as confused as her.

“We know a guy.” Hunter says.

“Yeah!” Wrecker cheers excitedly.

“Strap in kid,” He says to Omega. “You’re not gonna want to miss this view.”

Omega takes a seat in the co-pilot’s chair as Tech begins their jump into hyperspace. Midnight rests her head in her hand, taking deep breaths. She’s glad no one’s noticed anything yet, Hunter preoccupied with Omega, and the others with Wrecker. She wishes she could go to her room, lock herself inside for a while, but her obvious limp would give her away.

She lets out a long breath, the tears pooling in her eyes again. Crosshair would have noticed. He would have known just by looking at her. Not that the others wouldn’t notice eventually, but Crosshair always noticed. He always saw. He would have been calling her names, telling her she was stupid for getting shot.

If Crosshair were here, she wouldn’t have gotten shot in the first place.

Midnight squeezes her eyes shut, holding her breath to keep her sobs in.

****

“Easy.”

Midnight jumps as hands touch her. She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep. She hasn’t been out long, her face still wet with tears and her leg is throbbing. She hisses as fingers press against the blaster wound, her body being shifted to the side in the chair.

“Echo, we’re gonna need another shot.” Hunter says, holding her leg still.

“Hunter-” Her voice cuts off in a whimper as he tugs her boot off.

“That doesn’t look too good.” Omega says.

Midnight winces as Hunter presses against the wound again. “It wouldn’t be so bad if someone stopped touching it.”

“Just making sure it’s not worse than it looks.” Hunter says, releasing her leg.

Another hand takes it, this one just as rough as Hunter’s had been. Midnight winces as a shot is injected, fingers prodding again. The pain quickly begins to numb, Midnight letting out a sigh of relief.

“Omega, why don’t you and Wrecker start searching the ship. Look for any tracking device or any sort of recording device. Make sure they didn’t plant anything.” Hunter says.

“Sir, yes sir.” Omega says, heading off with Wrecker to search through the rest of the ship.

Midnight yelps as something jabs into the bottom of her foot, yanking it out of the hands of whoever was holding it. “What was that?”

“Just checking you can still feel your foot.” Tech says.

“Yes, I can feel it, thank you.” She says, pulling her leg up to her chest.

“I need to be sure there’s no serious internal damage.” Tech argues, grabbing for her leg again.

He pulls it a little too hard, nearly sending her from the chair. She barely manages to catch herself, fingers holding tightly onto the side of the chair.

“Would you quit manhandling me?” She demands, yanking her leg free of his hold.

“Midnight.” Hunter says sternly, causing more tears to brim in her eyes.

She’s so tired of crying already. She sobs, righting herself in the chair. “He told them.” She turns on Hunter, unable to stop everything from spilling over. “He told them about us. He told them everything. He betrayed us. Tarkin tried to use it against me.”

“Hey,” He kneels down beside the chair, pulling her into his chest. “I know. This isn’t easy for any of us. He was our brother, and I know how much you loved him.” His arms tighten around her just a bit more at her quiet whimper. “The best we can do is try to find somewhere safe so we can make a plan right now.”

“Your leg will be fine, once it heals.” Tech says as Hunter pulls away from her. “Your irritable mood is likely due to your extreme exhaustion. We were designed to go long periods without rest.” He pushes her back into the chair, running a thumb under one of her eyes. “You need as much rest as you can get right now.”

She scoffs. “It would help if I could sleep.”

“Right.” Tech says, tilting her head slightly. “You can yell at me later.”

Something sharp pierces her neck, and the sound of an injector hissing reaches her ears. She frowns at Tech, anger bubbling inside her once more. “What did you just-”

“A mild sedative. Just enough to get you to sleep for a couple hours.”

Midnight can already feel herself beginning to drift off, the world around her starting to move in slow motion. “I’m gonna hit you,” She slurs, fighting her drooping eyes. “When I can move my hands again.”

Tech smiling softly is the last thing she sees before she drifts off.

***

Midnight startles awake as a hand shakes her. She hastily wipes the drool from her face, blinking the bleariness away. “Huh? What?”

“We’ve landed.” Echo says.

“Where?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“Saleucami.” Echo says. “Apparently they know someone here that might be able to help us.”

Right. She remembers that conversation. They must have come to know this contact before her time, and also before Echo’s.

She accepts his offered hand, letting him pull her up. She puts weight on her injured leg, testing it.

“How does it feel?” Echo asks.

“Sore.” She says, putting more of her weight on it. “Better than it did.”

“You’re lucky.” He says as they make their way into the hull. “Any lower and you might have lost a foot.”

Midnight stays quiet, thinking over Echo’s words. It was lucky, she won’t deny that, but it’s also a bit suspicious.

Midnight blinks against the bright sun as she makes her way down the ramp. She pauses for a moment, taking in the dirt under her feet, and the sun on her skin. It feels nice after so long in space, and the aggressive sterile bleakness of Kamino.

She begins following the others, pausing when Hunter turns back. Midnight turns too, spotting Omega on the steps of the Marauder. The girl pauses, taking a big breath in before making her way off the steps. She drops to her knees in the dirt, taking a handful of it.

“Whoa. What is this?” She asks, looking at the dirt in fascination.

“That would be dirt.” Tech says simply.

“It’s amazing.” She stands up, dragging her foot through the dirt and kicking it, laughing happily.

Midnight feels a tightening in her chest watching Omega. She knows what that’s like. She remembers her first time on a planet that had actual dirt and plants. She had been equally amazed by it, after spending her entire life on an ecumenopolis where the only dirt you saw was either toxic or particles falling from the many stories above. Oh to be able to be amazed by the simplest things again.

War had ruined that for her.

“Come on. Let’s get moving.” Hunter says as thunder rumbles in the distance.

They make their way through a field of strange, tall fruit. Midnight feels on edge, like she’s expecting something to pop out at her. Droids, or maybe other troopers. She clenches her fists at her sides, ready to draw her blaster if she needs it. She’s got Echo in front of her and Wrecker at her back, but that doesn’t make her feel any more comforted. She blames it on the sedative Tech had snuck her still wearing off.

That, and her sore ankle.

“So this friend of yours, what’s he doing all the way out here?” Echo asks.

“Hiding.” Tech answers simply. “That’s what deserters do.”

“Staying off the radar’s not our specialty, but he’s been doing it for years.” Hunter says.

“And you trust a deserter?” Echo asks carefully.

“Why not? We’re all deserters now.” Tech says.

Echo stays silent, obviously not having thought of that yet. They’re all deserters. They’re all on the run now. Midnight knows it won’t just be Crosshair after them. After all, she had signed a contract and then immediately broken it. She hadn’t had much of a choice, though. She couldn’t have broken the guys out of the brig if she’d been in there too. It would have only complicated things if she’d refused to sign that contract.

At least that’s what she tells herself.

Hunter motions for them to stop, looking down at a tripwire. Omega continues forward, unfamiliar with Hunter’s silent signals. He puts a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from setting the booby trap off.

“What are we looking at?” She asks curiously.

“A booby trap.” Hunter answers simply.

“Single trip wire.” Wrecker says, stepping over it, obviously not seeing the second laser trap further ahead. “That’s cute.”

Several dummy droids pop up as Wrecker springs the trap, and he begins shooting at them.

“Easy, Wrecker.” Hunter commands.

“Was that me?” Wrecker asks, confused.

Their attention is drawn away from Wrecker as two figures approach, blasters drawn. It’s a female Twi’lek and a...clone?

“What do we have here?” The Twi’lek asks. “More clones who have lost their way.”

“It’s been a while, fellas.” The clone says, both of them lowering their weapons.

***

Midnight finds herself in a farmhouse, leaning against the wall. It’s run down and patched together, but it’s sweet, she thinks. There was once a time she had dreamed of a life like this, in a farmhouse on some secluded planet with no worries and no war. The five boys all working on the farm, building them a life.

She swallows the emotions, steeling herself. She won’t cry again. She’s not going to.

“I see a few new faces.” The female Twi’lek says as she places a couple bowls of food on the table. Midnight is hungry, but she doesn’t have much of an appetite.

“Midnight, Echo, and Omega,” Hunter motions to each of them as he introduces them, Omega exploring the small farmhouse. “Cut and Suu.”

“Hello.” Midnight nods, giving her best smile.

“Pleased to meet you.” Suu says.

“Ma’am.” Echo nods in greeting.

“Where’s Crosshair?” Cut asks.

Midnight’s stomach clenches painfully at the mention of his name. She hates it, that she has to feel this way. There’s nothing she can do, though. She had tried her best, and it wasn’t enough.

“It’s complicated.” Hunter sighs, his shoulders sinking just a bit.

“Sounds familiar.” Cut says. “Rex told us about the clone troopers turning against the Jedi.”

“You talked to Rex? When?” Echo asks.

“Well, he passed through yesterday.”

“Where’d he go?”

“Didn’t ask.” Cut shrugs. “He was going on about some behavioral implant.”

“He must mean the inhibitor chip.” Omega says, stepping up to the table next to Hunter.

“The what?” Hunter asks.

“Inhibitor chips. The Kaminoans implanted them in the clones to modify their behavior.” Omega explains.

“Tech, you said the regs were programmed but you never mentioned a chip.” Hunter says, drawing Tech from whatever he was doing on his datapad.

“How else did you think it worked?” Tech asks.

The door flies open, two Twi’lek children running in.

“Mom, Dad! There’s a ship outside!”

“Shaeeah, Jek! Remember me?” Wrecker says excitedly.

“Uncle Wrecker!” They both exclaim, running up to greet him.

“Who are you?” The oldest of the two asks, spotting Omega.

“Omega.” She says nervously, stepping around Hunter’s chair.

“We never see kids around here. Come with us.” They lead Omega out of the house, Hunter giving his nod of approval as Omega looks back for permission.

Midnight watches the exchange, letting her gaze drift back to Cut and Suu as Omega disappears out the door. They both have fond, knowing looks on their faces as they stare at Hunter.

As squad leader, it was Hunter’s natural instinct to lead, to worry about the wellbeing of everyone on his team, even non clones. Midnight remembers when she first joined the team, how unnerving it had been. It was almost like some switch flipped in Hunter’s mind, some automatic update to his hardware that included her on his team. How easily he had adjusted to her there, how easily he had included her, thought about her. Worried about her.

She knows it’s happening again. It’s not quite the same now, given they’re not fighting a war anymore, and Omega is a child.

Midnight can’t help but wonder if it’s becoming more this time too.

****

“How is your leg?” Tech asks, adjusting his goggles.

Midnight glances up from the table. She’d been staring at it, lost in thought. She’d stolen Hunter’s seat after he’d gotten up, and helped herself to some of the food Suu had set out. She hadn’t felt like eating, but she knew she had to eat eventually.

“Fine,” She answers, leaning back in the chair. “A little sore, but nothing like it was.”

“You can hit me now.” He says, going back to his data pad.

Midnight blinks at him. “What?”

“When I sedated you, you said you would ‘hit me when you can move your hands again.’”

Midnight shakes her head. “I’m not gonna hit you. I know you were just trying to help me.”

“Yes, your nap had a drastic improvement on your mood, as I said it would.”

Midnight gives him a look. “Now you’re just tempting me.”

Suu steps up to them, a bundle of clothes in her arms. “I thought you might want to change.”

Midnight stares at the clothes for a moment. “Actually, that would be great.” She stands, taking the clothes. “Thank you.”

Suu directs her to the fresher, and she shuts herself inside. Suu’s a bit taller than she is, but the clothes fit, and they feel better than her armor. It’s been a while since she’s worn civilian clothes. She can’t help but wonder if there will ever come a time she’ll be able to retire the armor for good.

She stares at herself in the mirror for a moment. There’s still dark circles under her eyes, and she looks absolutely miserable. At least the outside matches what she’s feeling inside.

She splashes some water on her face, patting her cheeks to try and make herself seem more alive. She leaves the fresher, heading outside where the others are.

Hunter has changed his clothes, obviously having borrowed some of Cut’s. It’s odd to see him wearing something that isn’t his armor. Midnight doesn’t think she’s seen any of them in anything but their armor, or their blacks, or nothing at all. Wrecker’s ditched at least the top half of his armor, donning a hat and poncho. It’s a good look for him too, Midnight’s brain doing all sorts of somersaults.

“Here,” Hunter holds out a hand. “I’ll drop that off at the ship.”

“Thanks.” She murmurs, handing off the pile of armor to him.

“You, uh, look good.” He says, giving her a once over. “I forget how good you look in civvies.”

Midnight forces a smile, nodding. “It feels good to wear them again.”

Hunter’s face drops into a serious look, Midnight already dreading what’s coming next. “Are you...alright?”

Midnight grimaces. “You don’t want to go there. Not right now.”

She turns to leave, but he puts a hand on her shoulder. “Night, you should have said something.”

Midnight clenches her jaw, fists clenching at her sides for a moment. “We had bigger things to worry about.” She shrugs his hand off. “Save the lecture for later.”

She walks away, heading back into the house.

****

“Can I help?” Midnight asks, approaching Suu who was working on packing. “I-I need to do something with my hands.”

Suu nods knowingly. “Sure. You can finish packing those in that bag.” She nods at a stack of clothes.

Midnight starts placing the clothes in the bag, glad to be doing something. She feels bad for how she acted towards Hunter, but the last thing she wants is to dredge up her feelings right now.

“So, how long have you been in love with them?” Suu asks, breaking the silence.

Midnight freezes, looking up at her with wide eyes. “What?”

Suu chuckles. “I can tell just by looking at you.”

Midnight stares down at the clothes in her hands. If anyone would understand, it would be Suu. “I’m not sure when it became love.” She shrugs. “The whole...arrangement started about three months after I joined their squad. Hunter and I had too much to drink and...made some impulsive decisions. It just...evolved from there. When I fell in love with them...” Midnight shakes her head. “I’m not convinced I haven’t always been.”

“And Crosshair?” Suu asks.

Midnight tenses, letting out a shaky breath before nodding. “And him. He was...resistant at first. Then he had to...out of necessity. I was in love with him before that, but he’s...guarded.” She feels tears brim her eyes. “I knew the risks. I told myself after the war ended, I wouldn’t let anything separate us. I’d do everything I could to keep us together.” Midnight hastily wipes a tear. “I feel like I failed.”

Suu puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “You still have four men who clearly love you. I know it’s not easy losing someone you love, but don’t forget about them too. As one of the few in this galaxy that can understand, you need to consider what’s best for all of you. Take advantage of the time you do have. If Crosshair truly does love you, he will realize it. There’s no amount of mind control that can wipe away emotions like that forever.”

Suu is right. Midnight had failed in keeping the six of them together, but she hadn’t failed in keeping most of them together. With their accelerated aging, she can’t even begin to guess how much time she’ll have with them. She’ll outlive them by a long shot.

The thought only makes losing Crosshair hurt more.

***

“It appears all public transport is now restricted without chain codes.” Tech says, looking at his datapad.

“Which Cut can’t sign up for.” Suu says. “He’ll be arrested when they discover he’s a deserter.”

They were all gathered in the house once more, Cut and Hunter having returned from town with some disparaging news. Apparently the new Galactic Empire was requiring citizens to get chain codes in order to travel.

“The next shuttle leaves in a few hours.” Cut says. “Codes or no codes, we need to be on it.”

“Mom!” A panicked cry from outside draws their attention. “Mom, it’s Omega!” Shaeeah runs into the house, pointing outside. “She went out past the fence!”

Suu is the first out the door, grabbing the slug thrower leaning against the wall on her way out. Cut and Hunter are quick on her heels, hurrying towards the fence. Omega is right on the edge of the farm, a rather nasty looking creature stalking towards her.

Hunter ducks under the fence, running towards Omega. She turns and runs, the creature lunging after her, but it’s slowed by a shot from Suu on the roof of the farmhouse. Omega ducks behind Hunter, Hunter slicing at the creature with his knife.

Suu shoots it a second time, deterring it from attacking again as it turns and runs. Hunter guides Omega back through the fence, the poor girl looking upset and guilty.

“What were you doing out there? Do you realize you could've been killed?” Hunter asks, his tone sharp and biting.

Midnight winces, having been on the receiving end of that tone more than once. It’s not fair to Omega, though. She is just a kid.

“Easy.” Cut says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She’s not a soldier.” Cut squats down beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder, looking her over for any injuries. “Are you hurt? Now, let’s take a look here.”

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get the ball.” Omega says, tucking her face into Cut’s shoulder. “I didn’t know.”

“You’re safe.” Cut says, patting her shoulder. “That’s all that matters.” Cut stands, picking her up. “Come on.” They start towards the house.

“Hey, kid. You all right?” Wrecker asks.

“She’ll be fine.” Cut says, walking back into the house.

The five of them stand there, watching them go.

Midnight replays the entire thing in her head once more. Omega’s lucky. Whatever that creature is, it’s fierce and would have torn her to shreds easily. Midnight doesn’t really know Omega, and she’s still adjusting to the thought of having a child around, but that’s what she is. She’s a child who has never seen the galaxy, never experienced the danger, the fear, the unknown.

Midnight remembers when she was in the same position, leaving Coruscant for the first time, experiencing things so different from what she’d been raised in. Midnight had the advantage of knowing the dangers, though. She was an adult, well adjusted to living in danger.

“All in all, I would say that could’ve gone much worse.” Tech says.

Midnight rolls her eyes, shaking her head. Of course he’s right, but this didn’t feel like the time to say something like that.

“Tech, you think you could forge some chain codes?” Hunter asks.

“I only learned of them moments ago, but yes.”

“Do it. We’re getting Cut, Suu and the kids on that shuttle.”

****

Midnight sits on the porch of the farmhouse, swinging her legs back and forth. She had offered to stand watch, to make sure the Nexu didn’t return or try any bright ideas. It probably wasn’t that necessary, but she’s glad for the fresh air, and the chance to think. Tech and Echo had returned to the ship to try and learn as much as they could about chain codes and how to make them. Cut and Omega have gone on a walk as well, Omega still upset about the whole incident.

Midnight can’t blame her. She remembers how upset she’d been the first time Hunter had reprimanded her like that. Of course, they’d been in the middle of war and he was reprimanding her stupid decision on the battlefield. She had deserved it. Omega hadn’t.

She knows Hunter can’t discern the difference, though. None of them can. They’d been designed for war, for fighting battles. Not for things like child rearing and domestic life.

They could learn it, though. Cut was proof of that.

He had chosen to desert though. The rest of them hadn’t had a choice.

The door of the farmhouse opens. Midnight doesn’t need to look to know who it is. He walks down the steps, approaching her slowly. She keeps her gaze facing forward, even as he moves to stand next to her.

“It’s uh...beautiful here.” Hunter says, crossing his arms.

Midnight nods. “It is.”

He’s quiet for a moment, the tension beginning to rise between them. She knows it's her fault, but she can’t help it. She feels like she needs to fight. Maybe she should have accepted Tech’s willing invitation earlier.

“I’m...going to send Omega with Cut and Suu.”

Midnight nods. He sounds unsure, but she knows that might be the best option. “It’s a good idea.”

“They won’t let us go that easily. Things are going to be dangerous.” Hunter is staring at her. She can feel his gaze burning into the side of her face. “Would you-”

“Don’t.” She cuts him off, hands curling around the edge of the porch. “Don’t even ask me that.”

“You need to consider-”

Midnight jumps down from the porch, facing him. “I made a promise when we made this whole arrangement that I wasn’t going to let anything separate us. Not the Republic, not the end of the war. I told myself no matter what, I was going to keep us together. I’ve already failed that, and now you want me to leave?”

“That’s not what I want.” He says, eyes narrowing at her. She knows she’s pushing into dangerous territory, but she can’t stop.

“That’s what you were going to ask me.” Her hands are starting to shake, adrenaline coursing through her.

“I don’t want you to leave, but I think some distance for a while is a good idea for your own safety.”

The door to the house opens, but neither of them pay it any mind. “What are you going to do, force me? The war’s over, Hunter. You’re not my Sergeant anymore.” She turns on her heel, walking away from him.

Hunter moves to follow, but Suu puts a hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place. “Don’t. Give her some space.” She says.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” He says, staring at Midnight’s back where she’s standing close to the fence.

Suu glances in that direction as well. “You shouldn’t take it personally. She’s grieving.”

Hunter looks down at Suu, his brows furrowing. He hadn’t even thought of that. He had felt the sting of Crosshair’s betrayal, but he had moved past it in order to ensure the rest of his squad was safe and taken care of. It wasn’t fair of him to expect the same of Midnight. That’s why he had thought sending her away might be the best idea.

“People do and say strange things when they’re grieving. I know it’s your nature to look out for your squad, but you have to let her do what she needs.” Suu gives him a smile. “She doesn’t need a squad leader right now, or her team. She needs the men she loves.”

***

Hunter, Wrecker and Midnight escort Cut, Suu and the kids to the spaceport. Midnight can tell Hunter is still seething a bit after Tech’s brilliant idea backfired a bit.

They had been enjoying what was likely to be one of their last good meals for a while, while helping Cut, Suu, and the kids pack when Tech had commed in, saying he had a brilliant plan. Naturally, he had decided to enact it without waiting for any permission, or even telling anyone else besides Echo.

The brilliant plan?

Get the ship impounded so they can sneak into the spaceport and steal the disks to make the chain codes.

The only problem?

Omega was on the ship.

Midnight knows they wouldn’t let anything happen to Omega, but it doesn’t make this situation any less stressful, nor their jobs any easier.

Midnight walks beside Wrecker, at the back of their group, holding his hand. It was partly to steady her nerves, and also to try and seem more inconspicuous. Hunter is leading the group, at the front where she knows he’s most comfortable.

“Tech, we’re in the spaceport. What is your status?” Hunter says through his comm.

“In progress. The encryption shouldn’t be a problem.” Tech answers.

They walk towards the shuttles, keeping their heads down. There’s troopers crawling the area. There’s far more troopers than she thought there’d be. Midnight hasn’t been this nervous since she’d broken the boys out of the brig on Kamino. She holds Wrecker’s hand just a little tighter, moving closer to him. She knows it’s more dangerous for them. If a trooper looked too long at one of the boys’ faces, it would be a dead giveaway.

“Hurry up. We need those chain codes to get them on the shuttle, or we’re going to have to blast our way out of here.” Hunter says.

“Don’t worry. I can slip through security unnoticed and deliver the disks to you momentarily.”

They get into the line at the shuttle, all anxiously awaiting Tech’s arrival.

“Have your chain codes out and ready for inspection.” A trooper says as he passes them, thankfully not looking too hard as they turn their faces to avoid detection.

“The chain codes are in route...with Omega.” Tech says.

“By herself? You let her go by herself?” Hunter hisses into the comm.

“Well, we didn’t let her go.” Tech tries to defend himself.

“I’m on it.” Wrecker says, handing off the crate he was holding to Cut before running off towards the impound lot. She knows this is going to end in a firefight, most likely. She’s glad she kept her blaster in the back of her pants.

She passes the bag she was carrying off to Suu, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Good luck.”

She follows behind Wrecker, slipping into the impound lot. Thankfully most of them have been drawn to Wrecker, giving her ample space to slip towards the Marauder unnoticed.

She slides up to Tech behind a stack of crates, drawing her blaster. “Kriffing hell,” She says, ducking from blaster fire. “Just once I’d like to end a mission without getting fired at.”

“Then perhaps you should consider joining another squad.” Tech quips.

Midnight rolls her eyes, firing at the troopers. They’re coming in waves, and she knows even more will be coming following.

“Hunter, we have worn out our welcome. We need to go right now.” Tech says through the comms.

“On my way.” Hunter replies.

Hunter arrives quickly, easily taking out three of the troopers before ducking behind the crates.

“Glad you could make it.” Tech says.

“What are we waiting for?” Hunter asks.

“The clamp’s still magnetized. The system’s not responding.” Echo says, still working on getting the Marauder free.

Wrecker runs over, using brute force to get the clamps to release.

“Let’s go.” Hunter says, Midnight running for the ramp of the ship, following Tech up inside.

“Wait for me!” Omega’s voice calls through the spaceport, drawing the attention of some troopers.

Hunter tries to keep them at bay as she runs over, but one of the troopers grabs her leg. Hunter makes quick work of him, getting Omega to the ship safely. Tech takes off as they continue to fire on the ship, successfully flying their way out of the spaceport and away from Saleucami.

***

Midnight sits in the fresher with her head in her hands. She feels sick to her stomach. Her hands are shaking despite them being balled into fists so tight it hurts. The motion of the ship doesn’t help any, only stirring her nausea more.

She doesn't know what’s wrong with her. She’s felt like this the last two missions they’d had before the war had ended. She’d felt like this on Kamino, and she’d felt like this after their narrow escape. She knows it’s not just her roiling emotions. It’s like every time she has a blaster in her hands, it makes her sick. She can’t take much more of it.

She forces herself to stand, splashing cold water on her face until her legs stop shaking. She looks like death, more so than she had on Saleucami. She’d love nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide, but she knows she can’t.

She exits the fresher, stepping out into the hallway.

“Well, where is Omega gonna sleep?” Wrecker asks.

“She can have my bunk.” Midnight says, drawing all eyes to her. “For now. I-I’ll sleep in Crosshair’s bunk.”

“Night-” Hunter starts but Midnight cuts him off.

“It’s fine.” She moves forward, putting a hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”

She leads Omega to her room, opening the door. It’s still a bit messy from their search of the ship not too long ago. Midnight’s glad she changed the sheets, though.

“Make yourself at home.” She says, shoving clothes back into their crates. Hunter had at least been decent enough to place her armor in its spot.

“Are you sure I’m not taking your bed?” Omega asks as she sits on the edge.

“Truth is,” Midnight says, squatting down so they’re the same height. “I don’t think I’ll be doing much sleeping in here. I don’t think I’ll be doing much sleeping at all, actually. I’d rather you be comfortable, at least until we can get something more permanent set up.”

Midnight gets up to leave, but Omega’s next words stop her. “You were close with him, weren’t you. Crosshair, I mean.”

Midnight sighs, her shoulders drooping a bit. “Yeah. I was.”

“I’m really sorry about what happened.” She says. “I know what it’s like. To feel lonely even with people around you.”

Midnight hastily blinks the tears away, turning to face Omega. “I’ll be okay. Get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Midnight leaves her room, the door hissing shut behind her. She makes her way to the bunks, pausing in front of Tech and Crosshair’s. They’re all empty, Tech in the cockpit with Echo and Hunter. Wrecker was in the hull, probably benching Gonky or something.

She pulls the privacy curtain back, half expecting to be met with a scowl, but of course it’s empty. She climbs up, tucking herself into the bunk. The hooks are still on the wall where he’d hang the firepuncher. Midnight lays her head on the pillow, squeezing her eyes shut.

It still smells like him.

Taglist:

@amyroswell, @dangraccoon, @hunnythebee, @lokigirlszendaya, @kriffingmeshla, @storm-breaker7

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #tech x reader #echo x reader #wrecker x reader #series

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shirmxie · 1 year

Text

this can't be!

7 unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcomed

↣6 ..you can come ↬m.list ↣8 tba

you hadn't expect this much from ayaka since its just a small party with your friends and also its just to congratulate your defeat. now that you think of it, that's kind of cruel but who are you to complain for a party anyways! plus your pocket wont be emptied since your friend would be the one who takes care of all the funds. perks of being childhood friends with the rich kid.

everyone gets comfy inside the limo as venti started "i cant believe were riding a limo to names "congrats to losing party"! its literally so random..", "you can all thank me for having that idea mwehehe!" hu tao gave a proud smile to all of you, "yeah but your pocket isn't the one funding this idea of yours dumbass." hu tao just glared at xiaos words.

as your friends start to converse with each other, you just stayed quiet, thinking, thinking about anything and everything as someone pokes your cheeks; which startled you. you turn your head to look at the culprit only to see heizou besides you with a grin, ah you forgot he was coming with.

"you're all over your pretty head again, cmon just enjoy the ride." he gets close to your ears and whispers, it sends shivers down your spine as he chuckled. my pretty head? pretty..? you were really red. he looks away from you, not waiting for you to answer as he chatted with aether.

all of you arrived at the bar as one by one of you step out the ride, making sure not to trip. but still, you almost tripped since you're really inside your head even deeper after heizou said that. xingqiu grabbed your arm as he talks "nameee! you're really distracted are you? just ignore the thoughts for tonight and enjoy," "its difficult.. but sure i'll try i guess." you frowned, knowing that you've been trying to ignore your thoughts for the whole ride but still failing.

venti grabbed your face with both his hands "why are you so sad name? cmon lets go inside and drink, drink your thoughts away!" he tries to make you smile, you did anyways. you just realized that one of ventis friends didn't come with all of you in the limo, "venti, your friend, kazuha, why isn't he with us?" "ohh he said your cousin borrowed his moms car so they'll be coming together!" borrow? he probably stole it.

you were drinking as you heard the door bell, looking to see a pair of oh so familiar purple eyes; which you subconsciously glared at. he found your eyes and he grinned. this piece of shit. you were about to charge at him as you tripped on your own feet, you're already a bit tipsy just by 1 bottle of beer.

"hello rat, congrats to losing by the way, loser." "shut the fuck up bitch boy. don't talk to me like that after skipping all your classes." the both of you glared at each other as kazuha pulled him aside, "good evening name! i didn't expect for the both of you to be so against each other," venti butted in to pull you away as he says "if only you saw how they fought as kids, archons it felt like the whole house was a war zone!"

ayaka randomly popped up besides you to greet kazuha and his boyfriend "hello kazuha, hello kunikuzushi. also yes, they fight like wild dogs when we were still kids hahaha," scaramouche only rolled his eyes on the name 'kunikuzushi'. "babe lets go." he pulls kazuha away from the three of you. "god i still hate his guts." venti whispered, "i couldn't agree more..!" you whispered back as ayaka only giggled at the both of you.

after a few rounds of drinks, you decided to go to the restroom to reapply your lipstick since it smudged; unknowing that heizou was trailing behind you. you were about to go in as you feel a hand on your shoulders. you look up to see heizou yet again. "helloo! how's the loser doing?" he grinned. he didn't mean to come out as rude but you're mind was fuzzy and you can't think straight.

"c-can you stop being so full of yourself just 'cause you won! you- i do.. ugh.. i don't even know why i invited you..! maybe out of pity but-" you slurred on your words a bit as you continued, leaving him shocked at your sudden outburst, "maybe its better if i hadn't invited you.. your presence it- it annoys me!".

you don't know why you said that, you never minded when you lost, especially to him. what's wrong with you exactly? this isn't like you. you realized what you said and regretted your words almost instantly when you see him frown, "i.. i apologize, i never thought you felt that way, i'll leave." you felt a pang of guilt when he started to walk away.

"w.. wait no sorry! i'm sorry! i-i didn't mean it! its just- i've been in my mind a lot, i don't know what's gotten into me-" you started to ramble as you grabbed his wrist, he looked at you sadly. you felt really really guilty now, he just wanted to joke with you.. this grabs the attention of yours and his friends as they started to watch the scene they're witnessing. they only looked now since you apologized so loud even the planets across the universe could hear you

he sighed looking at your figure apologizing again and again, obviously feeling guilty. he doesn't know why but he just pats your head. it startles you and everyone looking at the both of you. "its fine, you've had a lot to drink. you should reapply your lipstick tho, not that i'm complaining! you look pretty with smudged lipstick anyways." he smiles as he succeeds to lighten up your mood a bit.

now its your turn to be shocked. you felt something inside you, its unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcomed. your friends started to coo at the both of you as you rushed inside the restroom, catching your breath. what's wrong with me?

you didn’t mind losing to your long time academic rival but somethings off about you lately…

taglist: open, send ask or reply

— @stanshizuki

an: i wrote this under 3 hours and its so short and bad.. im so sorry. also school is being a bitch to me rn so i cant update frequently

#shikanoin heizou #heizou fluff #heizou smut #heizou x reader #genshin smau #genshin x you #genshin impact #genshin fluff #heizou smau

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mocha-tapioca · 2 years

Text

Mario Kart but Even Worse

part two of the twst!au game night, where canon is thrown out the window and the only way people can legally strangle each other is via games! :) (also co-written w the bestie @starsunns)

“Well. It’s official.” Ace leaned against the arm of the couch, a huff of laughter coming from him as he tried stifling it to no avail. “You suck at Mario Kart.”

“Ah—“ Airi blinked as she was fished out of space once again. Turning to face her rival, she stuck her tongue out. “Well, pardon me, but I’ve never played Rainbow Road.”

“Look at the screen or else you’re gonna fall again.”

“Please, as if I—“

She fell again.

“…dammit.”

Saturdays were nice at NRC. Game night was a lot of fun, and even if there WAS a bit of rule breaking, it gave everyone a chance to relax.

You can’t relax with these two around though.

“Gah, no, I fell again-!”

“Then keep your eyes on the goddamn rainbow!”

“What do you THINK I’m doing?!”

Silver groaned, raking a hand through his hair as he stared at the two of them on the other couch, bemused. “Shut up for once and let me sleep…” he muttered softly.

“You shouldn’t have come to the game room then,” Lilia chided, humming as he watched the screen. “Every Saturday, we get the tamest war in this place. Might as well be able to watch.”

Deuce was also annoyed, mainly at Airi. “Oh no, oh no, come ON, Airi, I’m betting money on you here— nonono don’t FALL NO—“ he wailed and leaned his head back onto the couch as he gave a fistful of money to Floyd, who was grinning.

“This is why you don’t bet with Octavinelle~” he sang.

"'M gonna..." Deuce started before dropping off silently. No one commented, I mean, it was Deuce who was speaking, who really listened to him?

"Ah, Floyd, I think this is mine~," Lilia cooed softly, reaching over to grab the wad of cash Deuce had just given to him.

"What! I thought you'd forget," Floyd said, reaching back for the money that was just (not really) stolen straight from his hand. "I won that fair and square!"

"And I won this fair and square," Lilia shot back, looking through the money. "You're short two thousand though,"

"O~oh," a voice popped from behind them all, but no one turned to look. "Are you guys making bets without me?" Of course, it was Trey, not even that weird at that point. "Here's some money. Ace and Airi are going to fight, and then Ace is going to get angry and call me four-eyes, so then Airi gets angry and throws her controller at him, to which Ace dodges, and the controller hits Riddle,"

"That's way too specific," Floyd said, "I'm taking the chances,"

"I'll put my cards down," Lilia adds in.

Deuce shook his head. “Sorry, Trey, but I honestly doubt that’s gonna happen.”

Silver, who had given up on trying to sleep, also put a wad of money in. “I bet I saw this in a dream once. If they don’t shut up, might as well make them useful.”

Ace, who had been hearing him, scoffed. “Useful?! What am I, a hammer?” Honestly, he and Airi were aware of the betting. (A portion of the funds went to them anyway, so they let it go on. He didn’t think the rest of NRC would start doing it, but whatever. At least they get money out of it.)

Airi sniggered as she threw a shell at Ace, finally getting the hang of the controls. “You’re about as useful as a broken clock. Only two times a day, and completely trash the rest of it.”

“You’re one to talk, Miss ‘Kamek’s-fetched-me-out-of-space-with-a-fishing-rod-nine-times’!”

“See?” Airi remarked, starting the third lap. “That name’s solid proof you’re right only two times a day. True fact, but wow, you suck at naming.”

“Shut up, I’m winning,” Ace retorted, shoving Airi so she lost grip of her controller. “Oh look, gonna have to change the name to TEN times instead, huh?”

“Cheater-!” She responded to that by kicking him out of the way, snagging first place yet again.

From bystanders, the pair looked like they were this close to murdering each other. To be honest, they probably were.

And then Lilia pulled the move.

“You know what they say~ all’s fair in love and war!”

They stopped driving.

“Love?! Please, Airi’s so short I’d have to break my back in order to kiss her—“

“I’d rather not need to carry around mouthwash for this guy, thanks—“

“How am I supposed to play basketball if my ribs are crushed?!”

“Please, as if I’d ever like a REDHEAD—“

“You were dating Cater, for God’s sake, weren’t you?! What does he have? RED HAIR—“

“Cater isn’t a guy with a superiority complex—“

“Who said I had any sort of complex whatsoever— oh look, I win,” Ace cut himself off with a nonchalant tone and a smirk.

“YeahbecauseyouCHEATED—“ Airi yelped as she was unceremoniously shoved off the couch, but not before she threw her controller at Ace.

Ace dodged it, and guess who it hit?

A now very red-faced Riddle Rosehearts.

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!!!”

As Airi scrambled back up and away from a short redhead chasing after her, the others still in the common room grinned at Deuce, who was sweating buckets.

“Pay up, Spade.”

“…crap.”

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nocturnal-dreams · 3 years

Text

As Our World Caves In

==============================

Pairing: Wilbur Soot x GN!Reader

Warnings: deep angst, death, blood, stabbing, explosions

==============================

Part 2 here!

==============================

Another scream left your lips as you were flown back by the impact of the wither hitting you, sending you down into a crater losing a lot of your health. You quickly drunk a health potion and started to climb out of the hole, trying to avoid the wither heads being shot at you. The screams of people you had once called your friends, some your enemies, rang in your ears.

How could Techno have betrayed you like this? He was almost like a brother to you, you two had bonded so well preparing for this war just for him to turn a blind eye at your pleads for him to help. Tommy had ran off after Techno, you losing sight of the two when one of the withers started to target you, Dream attacking you in the process.

A part of you wished Dream hadn’t just left you for dead, a part of you wished he had actually killed you. Not that you had much to live for anymore. The place you had once called home, fallen in love in, and built was destroyed. Your friends had betrayed you. All you had now was Wilbur...

Wilbur...

Where is Wilbur?

You looked around the chaos of L’Manberg, the town being torn apart by the withers that raged chaos on everyone and everything in its wake. You scrambled to what safe land you could find, eventually the land being blown up under your feet.

Calling for Wilbur, you cursed to yourself not finding him anywhere. Where had he gone off to, you were worried. You looked down at the netherstar hanging around your neck, the same netherstar that Wilbur had giving you the day he had beaten Dream and became president of L’Manberg.

Why couldn’t the days just stay that way? No wars, no withers, no chaos, just you and Wilbur running a beautiful nation. The days you and Wilbur would sit at the top of the towers, watch the sunset in each other’s arms while he would mutter words of admiration.

“Y/N?!” you slid down the hill quickly hearing your name, finding Phil standing at the top of a hill staring down at you. You picked yourself up quickly running over to the blonde man, hugging him tightly and looking him over for any wounds from the wither attack, “where is Wilbur?”

“I don’t know,” your breath was ragged, your hands shaking as you held onto Philza, “I’m scared he’s dead, he’s on his last life Phil! I can’t lose him!” You buried your face into Phil’s shoulder, tears running down your face while Phil tried to calm you the best he could and also find out where his middle son had disappeared to. Wherever Wilbur had gone however, Phil knew it wasn’t for good intentions.

You and Phil had exchanged letters for weeks leading up today, you rambling off in your letters how you were scared for Wilbur, he seemed to have been turning more insane day after day, disappearing for days at a time to somewhere. Phil was trying his best in the letters to give you comfort and to calm your mind but at the same time, he knew what his son could be capable with if he got pushed too far for too long.

==============================

There he sat, singing to himself quietly to the words on the wall. He sat in a small wooden chair, it creaking quietly at the slightest movement and a single lantern hanging on the ceiling above him. A small but powerful button in front of him as he stared at it, going to press it but something continuing to pull him away from the button.

Well, I've heard there was a special place, Where men could go and emancipate, The brutality and the tyranny of their rulers.

“There was a special place, where men could go and emancipate,” he rambled to himself, pulling at the sleeves of his brown trenchcoat, “and there definitely was that special place that once existed, it did.”

Well, this place is real, we needn't fret, With Wilbur, Y/N, Tommy, Tubbo, fuck Eret It's a very big and not blown-up L'Manberg

His face fell into his hands, “even with Tubbo being in charge I don’t think it can exist again, it just can’t.” He sighed loudly to himself, his hand hovering above the button that would end everything, all of his work would be over, “it’s right there, if I’m ever gonna press it then I’m pressing it now. And...” His brows furrowed for a second, slamming his hand against the wall, “the thing that I built this nation for doesn’t exist anymore! The thing I worked towards! Our dream! It doesn’t exist anymore! It doesn’t exist-”

A voice cut him off, just down the long hallway that lead to the room hidden in a small mountain stood Phil, Y/N behind him covered in bruises and burns from the wither attack. Phil was the one to speak, Y/N being too weak in that moment to even look at Wilbur, the man they had once loved, “what are you doing?”

Silence, until Wilbur spoke up quietly, not bothering to turn around to face his father, “Phil?” Phil repeated his question, “we made Tubbo president, Schlatt is gone, we won Phil.”

Phil nodded, pulling Y/N to his side not wanting them to completely break down watching the man they loved go insane, “so... You are? In L’Manberg?”

Wilbur finally turned around to face his father, noticing Y/N by his side. Wilbur looked over them, taking a second to look at just the bruises that littered Y/N’s arms and the burns on their hands.

You choked back a sob staring at Wilbur, “Wil, please just stop. Come home, come to-”

“This is home, Y/N. What are you talking about?” Wilbur asked, his head turning to the side, unable to understand why Y/N was in such a state after they had just won. He thought this was what they wanted, that they wanted L’Manberg back.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, “this?! A nation that is corrupted, people living in fear, how can you even see a future here?!” You broke free from Phil’s grasp, going over to Wilbur and grabbing him by his jacket, pulling him closely and showing him the wounds that littered your arms, legs, hands, and face, “Wilbur can’t you see that I’m in pain? The Wilbur I knew wouldn’t even allowed me to go into the battlefield!”

“Y/N...” Wilbur’s expression seemed to soften, his eyes seeming calmer and almost like he was about to break down into your arms at the slightest touch. Wilbur looked away from your pleading eyes, dodging your hand that tried to go to his face so you could make him look at you again, “alright, I will admit. Do you know what that button is?”

Y/N stayed silent, Phil nodding to Wilbur’s question, “I read your notes, I know you son. I know what that button will do.”

“Have you heard the of the song, the song on the wall.”

“My L’Manberg,” Y/N said quietly, your voice breaking as you held onto Wilbur.

“There was a special place,” Wilbur’s hands grabbed your own, prying them off of him, making you sit down in the chair in which Wilbur had once sat. Wilbur looked around the room, reading each word on the wall, “I was just saying that there was a special place that men could go but it’s not there anymore.”

“But it is there Wilbur,” you said, looking up at him from the chair in which you were now sat at, “we won it back, Tubbo is now the president, we can be happy.”

“I am so close to pressing that button!” Wilbur yelled, catching you off guard as he slammed his hands down on the wall again, staring at the button intently, “I have been here on days where I wasn’t even planning! I’ve been here like seven or eight times just wanting to press it.” Suddenly everything was making sense to Y/N, this is where Wilbur was sneaking off to at night, this is what Wilbur was marking down in his notebook that he wouldn’t allow you to read, “I’ve been here so many times-”

“And you just want to blow it all up, throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for,” Phil responded, Wilbur giving a small nod as he rested his forehead against the wall, “what you and everyone that has loved and cared about you have fought for.”

“I don’t even know if it works Phil, I tried once and someone had destroyed the redstone so who’s to say they haven’t destroyed it again,” Wilbur sighed, “I could press it and have it not work.”

“Wilbur please, just try to reconsider. We can make a new nation, with everything you stand for, it will be us in rule, no Schlatt, no Dream, just you, me, Tommy, Tubbo, and whoever else you want,” you reached for Wilbur’s hand, him pulling away from the action, “please Wil, I love you.”

Wilbur bit his lip, staring at the button, “you know Y/N, there was a saying, by a traitor.” Your heart sank to your stomach, you knew what was coming, “It was never meant to be.”

Just the small click made you go numb, he had done it, he had pressed the button.

And there it was, the giant hole in the wall showing all the work was destroyed, everything was gone. Everything, every memory, every laugh, it was all destroyed. Wilbur just smiled to himself, staring at the destruction of his nation.

“My L’Manberg Phil,” Wilbur sighed staring at the destruction, the nation torn to pieces, “my unfinished symphony that will forever be unfinished! If I couldn’t have it than no one could!”

“Wilbur! You’re insane!” Y/N cried, staring at the destruction of their once beautiful home.

Suddenly Wilbur grabbed Y/N by the arm, pulling something out of his pocket and giving it to Y/N, “kill me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at Wilbur’s request, you couldn’t murder Wilbur, you loved him. Wilbur kept going on, begging you to stab him as you held the blade in your trembling fingers, tears streaming down your face.

“But-”

“Kill me Y/N!” Wilbur had yelled, grabbing your harsher and almost shaking you as you stared at him, tears blurring your vision, “everyone wants you to do it! Look at them, the traitors Y/N, they never cared about us. I want to die, please just do it!”

“I love you!” You yelled, the diamond enchanted blade trembling in your hands, Wilbur’s hands landing on top of your own and aiming the tip of the blade towards his heart.

“You just need to push,” Wilbur said, his voice calm for someone that was about to be murdered. Yet you couldn’t do it, you just couldn’t kill him after everything he has done for you. You loved Wilbur more than anyone, he was your entire world, now he wanted you to destroy your world like he just destroyed his home, “Y/N, look at me.”

You looked up at him, your vision blurred by the tears that streamed down your face. Wilbur grabbing your face in his hands, tilting your head slightly to the side and smashing his lips on your own in a passionate kiss. You clung to him, the sword dropping between you two as you held onto him, as if the entire world and chaos around both of you had paused and you two were the only ones around.

But suddenly Wilbur stopped, his hands dropping from behind your head, sinking to the floor. You tried to cling to his body the best you could but he still fell to the ground, you catching his head before it could hit the ground. You looked behind Wilbur to see Phil, tears in his eyes and a blood stained sword in his hands.

You held his head between your hands, watching the blood pour from his lips as he gave you a weak smile, “Y/N, love, you know how Dream said earlier that there was no traitor?” You nodded, holding onto Wilbur through his final moments, “he fucking lied.”

You held him tightly, watching his breathing stop and his heart that had once put you to sleep just by it’s beating had now froze. You clung to his body tightly, burying your face in his chest not bothering with the blood that would stain you. What point was there to care? The man you loved more than anything was dead, the man you had trusted had murdered him right in front of you.

“Get out,” you whispered quietly, but Phil still hearing you.

“Y/N I’m so sorry,” Phil sighed, taking his hat off to help pay his respects, “but he was dangerous, I had to put an end to him. He was suffering Y/N, he was a danger to you, to everyone here, and most importantly himself. I did want I believe is best.”

“You fucking murdered him!” You yelled, holding Wilbur’s lifeless face to your chest as you cried into his brown curls, “just get out.”

“Y/N...”

“Get the fuck out!”

Phil nodded sadly, dropping the blade from his hands that was stained in Wilbur’s blood and left the room through the hole left by the explosion, leaving you to cry.

==============================

Thanks for reading, don’t forget to like and maybe reblog as it really does help me out :)

I’m gonna go to sleep now since it’s now 1 in the morning and I’ve been writing for hours

==============================

Taglist: @sadassflatass @gamerboykarl @ajesterscrown @bored-functional-human @aremegay

(To be added to my tag list, dm me)

S-Tierre Taglist: @corpse-br1de

==============================

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #philza #philza imagine #mcyt #mcyt imagines #mcyt x reader #dreamsmp #dreamsmp imagines #dreamsmp x reader #it was never meant to be #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc x reader #sleepy bois inc imagines #I'm gonna go cry now #wilbur x reader #wilbur imagines #wilbur

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tommysparker · 3 years

Text

Never Forget You [Chapter 3]

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

A/N: hey y’all! thank you for your patience with this chapter. enjoy!! :) [also totally didn’t have this in my drafts then forget to post earlier pfftttt whaaaatt?]

Warnings: angst with a tiny amount of fluff. anakin finally makes his debut in this series. it gets better just stay with me. long italic paragraphs = flashbacks

Anakin Skywalker had witnessed many things over the years.

Giant beasts? At least once a week. Sith Lords? Becoming too common. Droid armies? All year long. Looking death in the eye? Simply another day in the life of a Jedi.

Nothing could ever have prepared him for the sight he was currently witnessing.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, his Master, The Negotiator, the Jedi Council’s most prized Jedi…sulking.

It has been a full week since You returned to the Jedi Temple and Anakin couldn’t help to think his former Master’s mood and your arrival were connected. He was vaguely aware of your past friendship, only hearing bits and pieces of the adventures you had together as Padawans.

During his days under Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship he would often hear about how “a wise Jedi I once knew” would do certain things. He wanted to know more about this oh-so-great Jedi, however, any time the young boy asked his Master would always brush him off with a mournful look in his eyes.

He didn’t understand at the time but now he’s beginning to piece together that perhaps there was something more between the two of you.

“You think Master Y/l/n and Master Kenobi were courting?”

“Keep your voice down, Snips,” Anakin hushed.

“Sorry, sorry. But Master,” Ahsoka lowers her voice, “what led you to that conclusion? I’ve hardly seen them together since Master Y/l/n came back. What makes you think they could be lovers?”

“That’s just it, Ahoska. They’ve been avoiding each other like the Rakghoul plague. Obi-Wan told me they were such good friends, and now that they’re back they can’t stand to be in the same room as each other? I don’t buy it.” Anakin looked back to where Obi-Wan sat with Commander Cody, no doubt brainstorming new battle tactics and liberation plans.

“So what do you suppose we do? Set them up or something?” The look her Master gave her made her regret her words the moment they left her mouth.

“Come on, Snips. It’s a good idea. We get them to stay in the same room so they have no choice but to confront each other and talk things out! It’s genius.” Anakin smiled, his eyes still on his former Master. He had a feeling if Obi-Wan were to find out about this plan he would be in for a major lecture but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. He couldn’t stand to see the old man look so miserable, not if he can do anything about it.

Ahsoka crossed her arms and followed her Master’s gaze. Something was clearly different about her Grand-Master. He had put his full attention into ending the war, which wasn’t new. However, she could tell something was off. He no longer came out to the landing zone to greet returning fighters, stayed away from the meditation and training centers as well as the Jedi Archives which was the most off-putting observation considering that was where he spent most of his time.

Anytime someone needed to find Obi-Wan Kenobi, the first place they would check was the ancient history section of the Jedi Archives.

“I don’t know why you find so much interest in these old books Y/n/n,” Obi-Wan complained from across the table. “Can’t we go practice our lightsaber skills instead?”

You smiled. “Nuh uh, mister. If I won the wager you promised to sit with me during my reading time. Now shush, and read.” You pushed the unopened textbook toward the pouting Padawan. “Maybe you’ll actually learn something.”

Obi-Wan stuck his tongue out in a childish manner, sighing dramatically when you gave him a certain look and reluctantly opened the cover and began to read Tales of The Old Republic.

Safe to say from that point onward, Obi-Wan would join your daily Archive visits with zero complaints.

You close the book, careful to make sure no pages fell out and gently push it back into its place on the shelf. Using the force, you carefully push the ladder you were currently standing on over to the next column and begin nitpicking through the array of old texts.

It took a few days for you to settle in and readjust to the Jedi Temple life. Once you had, however, things quickly took a turn.

Master Yoda requested that you help train some of the younglings who were having trouble advancing into the next stages of becoming a Jedi. In all honesty, you much rather have had the freedom to roam for at least one more week, but the new role presented an excuse to not be around a certain blue-eyed Jedi.

“Looking for something?”

The voice startled you, causing you to jump and lose your balance on the ladder. You yelp as you begin to fall towards the ground, bracing yourself for the hash impact and the bruises that would add to the collection on your side still currently healing.

Instead, you feel a pair of arms catch you, one under your back and the other behind your knees in a classic bridal style. The hold felt secure instantly, and you instinctively clung to the tunic of your savior. You look up to thank the person for preventing any injuries, but the blue eyes staring back at you made your mind go blank.

Obi-Wan stared back, unsure of what to say. This was the closest he has been to you since you left a decade ago. He longed to have you in his arms, to hug you, to regain that safety net you provided he knew he could always fall back on.

“Um...thank you, General.” It came out as more of a question, your mind still reeling from almost falling and also the fact that the man who you had been actively avoiding just happened to be in the same place you spent hours of your youth together.

“Obi-Wan, please. No need for formalities, darling.” The old nickname slipped out, and he was about to apologize when he noticed the light blush that spread across your face. Perhaps not everything about you has changed.

“Right...Obi-Wan. Well, I’ll be on my way then,” You rushed, trying to pass by him but he stopped you once again by the call of your name.

“Y/n/n’s wait. Whatever game you’re playing, frankly I am not a fan of it.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What are you talking about?” You turned around and looked at him confused.

“You were the one who summoned me here,” he stretched his arms out, “here I am and now you’re trying to run away again. I hardly think that’s fair.” He was beginning to get frustrated. He came in with his heart on his sleeve, ready to finally talk to you after so long and find out why you’ve been keeping your distance. Now, all he felt was betrayal and irritation at the ongoing dance you insist on doing around each other.

He preferred to dance like you did in your youth, but alas this was nothing but another sign he needs to get mind out of the past.

You scoffed lightly. “Again? What is that supposed to mean exactly?” You knew exactly what he meant, but you didn’t want to admit it. You’ve been denying it for ten years and Force be damned if you’d admit it now.

“You’ve been avoiding me since your return--” You open your mouth to protest but he ignores you and continues “--and then you send the youngling to bring me here, only to try to flee upon my arrival,” He frowns, lifting his elbow and resting it on his remaining crossed arm. “I know our history can make things...difficult in the present time,” He glanced around cautiously as he spoke,”but I would appreciate it if we make an agreement simply to not speak from now on. No more games.”

You blinked, head tilting slightly as you waited for him to finish. “Obi-Wan, I didn’t ask for you to come here. Nor would I ever involve younglings in personal matters.” He should know that, you thought. But should he really?

His face fell from annoyance to embarrassment, his arms falling to his sides. “Oh.” He wasn’t sure what to do now. It was his own fault for getting his hopes up. I should have known better.

You purse your lips and nodded slowly. “Well, I’m glad we at least came to an agreement. Goodbye, General Kenobi.” You took your leave, forcing yourself not to look back as you felt his eyes watching your figure.

Obi-Wan let out a frustrated sigh, knowing he just ruined any and all changes of reconnecting with you. In his defense, however, you were the one avoiding his attempts at friendly conversation and refusing to meet and make up for lost time.

Still, something didn’t feel right about this.

“What the kriff was that?”

Ah, there’s that something. “Anakin, please tell me this was not your doing.”

Anakin smiled guilty, Ahsoka coming out from behind the bookshelf to stand next to her Master.

“It was Snips' idea.” Anakin shrugged, flinching when he felt her punch his arm. “Ow!”

“You were the one who came up with the plan, and now look! Master Y/l/n and Master Kenobi will never get together--” Ahoska stops herself, realizing she said too much. “Oh no.”

“I beg your pardon?” Obi-Wan looks at them both incredulously. “First of all, Master Y/l/n and I are simply…” he wanted to say friends, but even that was a reach at this point, “acquaintances. We knew each other in the past, and in the past our friendship shall stay. As for ‘getting together’, you both know very well any implication of that goes directly against the Jedi Code.” He crossed his arms tightly as he scolded.

“I can tell you harbour feelings for them, Obi-Wan. You don’t need to lie to us.”

“Whatever feelings I may or may not have for Y/n are unrelated. You must understand your responsibilities as a Jedi. No matter what emotional sacrifice we must make.” He made a point to look at Anakin at the end, knowing he won’t follow the implication but at least hoping he’ll get the message.

“We’re sorry, Master.” Ahsoka looked down in shame not at what they had tried to achieve, but at the cost and clear damage they caused.

Obi-Wan sighed, running a hand over his beard before resting it on her shoulder. “It’s alright young one. You meant no harm. Perhaps some things are better left forgotten.”

Oh, if only it were that simple.

A Padawan approached the three of them quickly. “Excuse me, Master Yoda sent me to tell you he and Master Y/l/n are waiting for you all in the council room.”

Of course, these things never are.

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

heres a box to put your heart pieces in -> [] :)

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ironwoodprotectionsquad · 2 years

Note

(why-i-stopped-liking-rwby here lol)

Eyyyyy the Tournament AU stuff is back! :D

Branching off what that other person said, about graduate Hunters returning for the tournament, I imagine it might be fun of there were like, 'spectacle' matches between some of the student fights, where champions from across the years might return and get the chance to really go against each other, in ways that wouldn't have happened when either of them were in school (since they might not have been in similar years, and even if they were, they might not have ever faced each other in RNG fights - OR IF THEY WERE ON THE SAME TEAM BEFORE)

Like, the show never really established many former students outside Team STRQ and the Ace Ops, but just imagine if like, ten years in the future, if the war had never happened and if everyone had just been in school until they graduated

Imagine 27 year old Ruby Rose in a spectacle match, and RNG pitted her against Weiss lol, and it's the first time they've truly fought against each other (sparring for practice over the years doesn't count) and since they know each other so well they have to pull out ALL the stops in their efforts to win, and the match ends up being one of the most amazing and mind-melting match anyone in the stands has ever seen...

Until RNG pits 29 year old Pyrrha (secretly a maiden, not that she uses the powers lol) against nearing-fifty QROW, who's like "Ehhh? Who put my name in the damn roster?? I'm getting too old for this!!" But he's already walking out onto the field while Pyrrha (who, as a Maiden, has spent the past ten years working with him as part of the inner circle and - damn it she might be a bit of a protegee lol) just laughs a little like "Do you want me to go easy on you, then?" And Qrow's just like "Heh... Nah." And they basically like tear the arena to shreds before even getting a full scratch against each other, much to the delight of all spectators XD

And also, if Ruby and Qrow both won their matches, they might END UP FACING EACH OTHER AS FINALISTS which is a real treat too lol

(Heyyyy @why-i-stopped-liking-rwby !!!!!))

I was so happy to get that ask about the Vytal tournament! I love seeing people either going through old posts or just thinking about them and being excited about a specific element and wanting to talk about it or share ideas about it (hint hint nudge nudge to anyone reading this and thinking about old posts lolz) it’s just fun to reexplore old ideas since maybe their is new inspiration or ideas or whatever to make it more fun!

Ohh OHHH I LOVE THAT!!!! Spectacle fights between former students who couldn’t ever fight each other for whatever reason? FUCKING AWESOME!!! Can I take it a step even further and maybe have the headmasters face each other off on certain years as more of a playful rivalry thing? That would be pretty epic I think!

But back to the meat of the ask yea we don’t really see graduates in the show which is odd and odder at least to me still is the fact that we don’t see any teams really. Why is their this big emphasis on teams of 4 when it seems huntresses and hunters seem to normally operate alone after they graduate? Something to bring old teams back together for a fun tournament just seems like a great way to further flesh out the world and the schools and give them a deeper history then just the current students.

Oh gosh I love aus involving a world without a war they just sound really fun. Ohhh I love those pair offs that just sounds like some pretty epic fights!!!!!! Of course is it bad a part of me kind of would love a James vs Qrow fight? That just sounds like it would be pretty epic to see how they would fight against opponents that use such radically different weapon types and how they would deal. And idk I have it in my head if they fought it would be the first and only tie to ever happen as they simultaneously kill each other’s auras and they cannot figure out who depleted the others first.

That year regardless would probably a year of fights that go down for the ages ESPECIALLY as you said if Ruby had to fight Qrow for the championship. Everyone would be watching with baited breath because family in general just doesn’t fight each other for various reasons so their is extra tension from that but Qrow and Ruby are having the time of their lives. It’s also more exciting because scythes are a rare weapon and seri two scythe wielders facing off? It would be a spectacular fight to watch just from how rare said fight would be to see period and knowing how talented both fighters are? People would never forget such a fight. I think it would be fun if once again the fight turns into a tie and Qrow jokes it’s his semblance it won’t let him officially win a fight ever.

Oh OH I’m thinking of more fun pairings but like seeing a fight with Glynda verses anyone really would be pretty epic but Glynda vs Winter could be fun as both rely on their magic but not magic semblances pretty heavily so seeing them fighting would be a pretty flashy and exciting one to watch. Ohh I know you mentioned Pyrrha vs Qrow but what about Qrow vs Maria? He would be completely star struck by someone he looked up to as a fighter and desperate to impress but also wondering if he could or even SHOULD beat such a legend.

It would be cool if their was a day devoted to these graduate mash ups it would be an amazing opportunity for students to watch professionals fight in a relatively safe environment and really learn how they would fight out in the world instead of a classroom setting.

Oh hell what if students are given an opportunity to fight graduates and get some hands on experience and teaching on different fighting techniques???

Gosh this is giving me so many fun ideas to explore I love this so much!!!!

#vytal festival #vytal festival au #fuck I love this #rwde #only slightly #but still

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weighty-ghosts · 3 years

Text

‘Vanishing Spells (or: How Sirius Inadvertently Outed Their Relationship)’

Vanishing Spells (or: How Sirius Inadvertently Outed Their Relationship), by weightyghosts

“James thinks he’s sneaky, Lily knows exactly how to push Sirius’ buttons, Sirius is a tad overprotective, Remus is exasperated with them all, and Peter is definitely sleeping in the common room tonight.”

Rating: teen

Word count: 2918

Pairing: Remus x Sirius

Published: December 16, 2020

Warnings: None

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28080297

It’s a frosty December night and the boys are in the Gryffindor common room, still sitting by the fireplace from when they had come in to warm up after a snowball fight with the Slytherins.

Well, it wasn’t so much a fight as a sneak attack that involved the Gryffindors hiding behind Greenhouse Two and pummeling those green-clad gits with exploding snowballs... But the Marauders still considered it a battle won in the war against their enemies.

James and Peter are occupying the couch, finishing their Transfiguration homework (really it’s just James writing and Peter peeking over his shoulder), and Remus and Sirius are in the plush crimson wing chairs that flank the couch.

Remus is engrossed in a book Dumbledore gave him on Non-Being Spirituous Apparitions, and Sirius is sitting sideways with his legs dangling over the arm of the chair, drawing idly on the back of his completed essay, and tapping his foot to an unheard beat (much to James’ annoyance).

Sirius is also trying very hard to stop himself from staring at Remus, but he can’t seem to help his eyes wandering over every few minutes to watch the way the firelight brings out the auburn and gold in the werewolf’s hair, the ends a bit curled from the wet snow outside.

Remus glances up at him but looks away quickly, a light blush spreading up his neck. Sirius bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, going back to his doodling. This thing between them is still new and exciting, and most importantly: a secret.

A few quiet minutes later, James puts his quill down and stretches his arms over his head, letting out an exaggerated grumbling noise, a habit that Remus finds slightly irritating.

“Hey, Padfoot?” James asks in an offhanded way.

“Mmh?” Sirius murmurs, not bothering to look up from his sketch of a dragon breathing fire on a figure that looks suspiciously like Severus Snape.

“How’s your boyfriend?” James asks casually.

“He’s-“ Sirius glances at Remus automatically, then freezes when he meets amber eyes that are wide with a silent warning.

Sirius’ eyes flick back at James, whose entire face is screaming, “Ha! Got yah.”

“Wait, what? I don’t have a boyfriend!”

“Oh, no?” James arches an eyebrow in disbelief.

Peter puts his unfinished homework down and settles back on the couch to watch the evening’s entertainment.

“No! I think I would tell you if I had a boyfriend.”

“You don’t need to tell me, because I already know.”

Sirius drops his quill in his lap and folds his hands together, eerily similar to how Professor McGonagall does when she knows she’s about to hear a tall tale.

“What is it you think you know?” he asks in a patient tone.

“I know for a fact that you and Remus are seeing each other,” James replies.

“James!” Exclaims Peter, like he’s scolding him for outing an unspoken secret. Which he is.

But Sirius has his wits about him now, and keeps a carefully composed face, lips pulled up in a small smile.

“What makes you say that, Potter?” Sirius asks, adding a little bite to James’ name.

“Well, Black, ” says James, returning the bite in kind, “maybe you’ve forgotten but,” he lowers his voice a little and leans in closer to his friend, “we have a map of the school that shows where everyone is at any given time?”

Remus has to admire how Sirius is able to keep any emotion from showing on his face at this information, like he didn’t even hear it. It’s truly impressive. But he also seems unable to reply, so Remus steps in.

“It’s not a big deal, James, I’ve just been helping Sirius-”

“Yeah I’ll bet you have, Moony,” James says suggestively, with a cheeky grin.

Remus blushes and returns to his book so he can pretend to focus on something else.

“Hey!” Sirius interjects, but immediately regrets showing his obvious dislike of what James was implying when James turns back to him looking rather smug. He continues, more calmly, “I didn’t want to tell you and Pete...but I’ve been having trouble with vanishing spells, so Remus has been helping me practice.”

“Bollocks!” James refutes, “You’ve always been good at charms.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you! It’s embarrassing.”

“That explains it then, Prongs,” Peter says, trying to placate them.

“Thank you, Peter,” Sirius says, and tips an invisible hat to the blond boy.

“Oh come off it!” James jumps back in.

“Come off what?” Sirius asks, his voice rising with indignation. Of course James is right but he’ll be damned if he lets the prat be aware of it. “You think because you saw us together on the map once or twice-“

“Seven times.”

“S-seven times,” Sirius stutters but pushes on, “that we’re suddenly shagging behind your backs?”

“Yes.”

“That’s complete and utter-”

“But it’s not just the map,” James says, straightening up into a more formal position as if he’s about to recite a speech he’s been working on for a long time, and when Sirius sees Peter roll his eyes, he’s fairly sure James has practiced it on him.

“Something has been going on for weeks,” James continues, “You’ve been sneaky and quiet and acting all cute with each other, and going off on your own places,” James turns to Remus now, “and I know Sirius was in your bed at least once because I saw him sneaking back to his own one morning, and we’ve been friends for over five years so if you think I don’t know you two well enough to know when you’re happy and when you’re hiding something, you’re absolute bloody imbeciles.”

Remus and Sirius are quiet for a moment as that sinks in, then open their mouths to speak at the same time.

“What do you mean acting, ‘all cute-’” Sirius asks.

“Sirius was in my bed because I had a nightmare,” Remus states, shooting Sirius a look, “He was just checking if I was alright.”

This makes James pause, chewing on his lip. He knows that it isn’t uncommon for Remus and Sirius to turn to each other when they have nightmares, it had definitely happened before, but he was so sure this had been different. He has a harder time accusing Remus of lying, though, so he decides to address Sirius.

“When I said you’ve been acting all cute with each other, I meant that you’re all affectionate and stuff! And Padfoot,” James looks around the somewhat-busy common room to see if anyone is listening, but they aren’t so he continues, “has been very protective over Moony, lately.”

“That’s true,” Peter says thoughtfully, tapping a finger to his chin as he thinks back to the last couple of full moons.

Remus looks surprised at that and glances at Sirius with questions in his eyes.

“I’ve always been affectionate and protective with him,” Sirius says calmly, but his cheeks are slightly pink and can’t seem to meet Remus’ gaze, “It’s just the way we are.”

“This is different,” James says.

“Nope. You’re wrong,” Sirius says, picking up his quill and going back to doodling as if the matter is closed, “Utterly wrong.”

James crosses his arms petulantly, the frustrated frown on his face displaying how annoyed he is that his friends won’t just tell the truth.

“It’s true, James,” Remus asserts, “There’s nothing going on.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s hairy left b-”

“What’s that, Potter?”

Lily Evans had appeared in the common room as if by apparition, and stood by Sirius’ chair with a bemused expression on her face.

“Er, h-hey Lily,” James stammers as a blush creeps up his neck to the tips of his ears. Sirius rolls his eyes at the way James completely falls apart when this girl they’ve known since she was a tiny, obnoxious Firstie shows up.

The fact that Remus makes Sirius’ brain and insides melt with merely a look is a completely different cauldron of kelpies.

“What are you talking about that’s gotten you so riled up?” She asks with a smile, always enjoying a rattled James Potter, and crosses in front of the fireplace to sit on the arm of Remus’ chair.

She puts a hand on Remus’ shoulder and they smile at each other. Although, Remus’ is a little forced, as he doesn’t particularly want Lily involved in this conversation. They’ve grown to be close friends since becoming prefects last year, and she knows him too well. He’s fairly certain she’s already figured out about him and Sirius.

Remus looks over at Sirius and is surprised at the hostility in his face. He seems to be glaring at Lily, or more specifically, her hand resting on Remus.

Remus sighs loudly, forcing down the urge to roll his eyes, and Sirius’ mouth twitches.

He loves how easily exasperated his boyfriend gets with him.

“I was trying to get these two wankers to admit that they’re seeing each other!” James replies to her.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Lily says matter-of-factly. They all glance at her in surprise (the boys in question looking away quickly so as not to seem too interested, of course).

“What? But you said-” James starts.

“No,” Lily interrupts, “They’re definitely not together.”

Sirius bites his tongue to keep from asking, “Why the hell are you so damn sure?”

“What makes you say that?” Peter asks, and Sirius reminds himself to be extra nice to Peter tomorrow. Or to at least try to.

“I just don’t think Remus is Black’s type at all, you know? He’s not...” Lily trails off, searching for the right word, “He’s just not really…”

“Not really what?” Sirius demands, forgetting the façade as anger bubbles in him. How dare she imply that Remus isn’t anything?

“Look, as much as I love Remus,” who she throws a pitying look to, and Remus braces for what she’s about to say next, “He’s a...you know... and I just don’t think he’s good enough for you.”

Remus closes his eyes and chuckles, but the sound is drowned out by the explosion that erupts from Sirius.

“WHAT?”

He’s on his feet, paper and quill knocked to the floor, as conversation in the common room halts and all eyes lock on him.

“Remus John Lupin is the absolute best, most brilliant person in this entire sodding school, you witless wench!” Sirius bellows, pointing an accusing finger at her while ignoring James’ gasp at how Lily is being spoken to, “And he happens to be exactly my type! Everything about him is my type! He’s beautiful and smart and sexy and funny, and a bloody good kisser, and he makes me very happy, and- and…”

He starts losing steam when he sees the extremely-pleased-with-herself smirk on Lily’s face. His eyes flick to James who goes from looking indignant to surprised to ecstatic at Sirius’ soppy declaration, to Peter who is just dumb-founded, and finally to Remus.

Remus is half covering his bright red face with his hand, attempting to disappear into the fabric of the chair. Sirius hears him laugh softly, though, and his anger is immediately quashed.

“Thanks so much for that, Lily,” Remus says sarcastically.

“You’re welcome,” she says cheerily, planting a kiss on Remus’ forehead. Sirius crosses his arms and frowns. “So predictable, Black,” she continues, shaking her head at him.

“Am not,” he denies, then has the decency to look abashed when adding, “But, you know, you should apologize to Remus for what you said.”

“Oh please, Rem knows I think he’s too good for you. I’ve told him many times.”

“You what?” Sirius looks accusingly at the werewolf.

“I thought she was joking?” Remus replies lamely.

“Lily Evans, you are an absolute genius,” James says, gazing up at her with glazed, adoring eyes. He looks about ready to swoon.

“And you, James Potter, are an absolute moron,” she says simply, “They’ve been hiding this for weeks, and you think they would just come out and say it if you confronted them with it? I told you it wouldn't work. Honestly, you know them better than that,” she adds with a tone like a disappointed school teacher. James could point out that he initially tried to catch Sirius off guard, but he doesn’t seem to want to contradict her. In fact, he seems rather enthralled by her chastising.

“Wait...weeks?” Peter asks in a small voice, looking as lost as he does in Potions.

Lily nods with a smile, rubbing Remus’ shoulder.

Sirius clears his throat and walks over to Remus, figuring he should apologize for blowing their secret, but mostly so he can get Lily away from his sexy boyfriend. He shoos her with a wave of his hands, and she gets up, tossing her hair at him before going to sit in the chair he just vacated.

“Sooorrrry, Mooony,” he croons, then takes the book from Remus’ hand so he can sit down in his lap. Remus’ eyes flash around the room at all the people watching them amusedly, but he rationalizes that there’s no way he could get any more embarrassed than he already is, so settles on sighing and shaking his head.

“You really can be thick sometimes, Sirius Black,” he says teasingly, loosely wrapping his arms around Sirius’ waist.

“Only sometimes,” Sirius says, then his face lights up like he just realized something, “Silver lining, though, Lupin, I can do this now.”

He cups Remus’ cheek, tilting his head up as he leans in and presses their lips together. There are a few cheers and whistles from the other Gryffindors, and Sirius chuckles into Remus’ mouth. Peter and James, however, are busy groaning and dramatically covering their eyes as if they’re witnessing Filch undress.

“Eugh, I don’t want to see that!” James whines.

Sirius pulls away to glare at them, and Remus blushes even more furiously, shooting apologetic looks at their friends. Apparently he could get more embarrassed.

“You wanted to know, James!” Sirius asserts, “You insisted, in fact. Now you have to suffer the consequences.” He turns back to Remus and to pull him in for another kiss.

“Please get a room!” Peter complains.

Sirius detaches their lips again and looks thoughtfully at the blond boy.

“Good idea, Pete,” he grins, “Come along then, my love.”

Remus is sure his face must be about to burst into flames, but he lets Sirius pull him to his feet anyway.

“Oh no,” Peter says, eyes wide, “That’s not what I meant! Please don’t-”

“Don’t worry, mate, we’re only off to work on our vanishing spells,” Sirius replies wickedly, clapping Peter on the shoulder as he drags Remus towards the staircase to the boy’s dorms.

Lily laughs, and Peter looks back at James, who narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Good show, Pettigrew,” he snaps, “Now we can’t go upstairs...bloody ever.”

Lily rolls her eyes at them and gets up from her seat.

“It’s not like they’re going to do anything they haven’t already done in there,” she says, and grins at the horrified looks on the boys’ faces.

Sirius yanks open the door to their room and tugs Remus inside. Remus goes over to sit on the edge of his bed, quirking an eyebrow as Sirius locks the door with his wand. Sirius turns and walks over to him with a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

“Vanishing spells?” Remus asks, his voice full of poorly-suppressed humour as he looks up at Sirius and opens his knees for Sirius to stand between them.

“An excellent cover-up!” Sirius replies, placing his hands on Remus’ shoulders.

“You panicked.”

“I might have panicked.”

Sirius smiles as Remus laughs at him, his favourite sound in the world. “I didn’t like how Lily-”

“The witless wench?”

“The witless wench- was talking about you.”

“I appreciate you defending me,” Remus says with genuine affection in his voice, then slides his hands slowly up Sirius’ thighs, “It was rather sexy.”

Sirius bites his lip, enjoying where this seems to be going. “You know what, Moony?”

“What, Padfoot?”

“I wouldn’t mind practising a vanishing spell on your trousers right about now.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and Remus falls back onto the bed with a groan, throwing an arm over his face.

“What a line,” he grumbles, but Sirius can tell he’s laughing.

Sirius climbs onto the bed, straddling Remus with one knee on either side of his hips.

“Did it work?” He asks, pulling the other boy’s arm down so he can look into his eyes.

“Absolutely not.”

Sirius frowns. “Is the spark gone now that everyone knows?”

“Yes. It’s completely gone. I was only with you because of the sneaking around.”

“Git,” Sirius says, poking Remus in the ribs, “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus’s eyes light up with mischief, “How?”

“Take your trousers off and you’ll find out.”

“Take them off for me.”

“Can’t. We never actually practiced the spell.”

Remus growls and pulls Sirius’ head down to kiss him hard, effectively ending the banter.

Half an hour later, James and Peter are standing on the other side of the closed door, trying to discern if it’s safe or not to go inside. When they hear whispering and a muffled moan, James turns to Peter and glares at him, lightly smacking the back of his head. They begrudgingly stomp back down to the common room to settle on the couch, for what will no doubt be a long night of homework.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar fanfiction #secret relationship #remus x sirius #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #ficbyweightyghosts

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fanfiction-inc · 3 years

Text

“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

[Previous Chapter] / [Next Chapter]

Verse: Falcon And The Winter Soldier / Captain America And The Winter Soldier / Captain America: Civil War/ Marvel Alternate Universe

Characters/Pairings: Baron Zemo/ Reader, Baron Zemo/ Female Reader, John Walker

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8971

Warnings/Tags: Drinking, smut, m/f, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex, Google translated translations, Walker is an asshole and just keeps getting worse.

Summary: Baron Helmut Zemo, world renowned racer and your sworn enemy on the track. You two have been going at it for years now, but now you two must join forces to fight back against John Walker, a new up and coming racer who is proving to beat both of you. Will you two survive the other or meet your demise on the track?

Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32606833/chapters/81176392?view_adult=true

This is a mess. An absolute, blazing mess that sits before you in the middle of your workshop. The chassis was dented all to Hell, a new one having to be rebuilt and delivered to fix your custom car. The engine had parts missing that were left at the crash sight when it was towed away. One car to your name, and it was fucked up. Maybe you should have taken Stark’s sponsorship and invested in a backup. Sitting on the cement floor of the workshop, screwdriver in hand as you pry out bits and pieces of parts from the engine, taking note of the parts and working on the budget you had set out for this year's series of races, you dreaded the moment you’d see the total cost. This repair would take a nice chunk, but you still had money left over after to make sure your car was at its best. That was the thing about working with your car, it was just you and this beast of metal and speed, working as one to reach the end of the line. The screwdriver is set down at your side when you struggled too long on getting the broken interconnecting rod that links the turbine from the compressor, a sigh following as you sit back. A slow sense of dread fills you as you look at the broken parts scattering the ground, the missing parts on your list, and the purple paint that still streaks the busted carbon fiber chassis.

Working with Zemo was a dangerous game, which you recognized even before you shook on the arrangement he had proposed. He was wicked on the course, predictable at times but at others a ticking time bomb of what his next move may be. He was dangerous, but that is what made him damn good. He took far more risk than you usually would when it came to advancement in the race. Where you held back, he pushed forward. No wonder the man infuriated you. But this plan was the only thing you had to get things back to normal, back to the way they were where you hated Zemo with a passion and fought tooth and nail to stay better than him. You would never admit it, but without your rival, what fun was the race? See, it's not only the thrill of the chase between the driver and death, inching closer and closer with each hairpin turn and the risk of the other driver's moves. No, it’s also the thrill of having someone who wants to win just as bad as you, who is just as good and will do anything to try and progress further than you. It sets a standard, something to surpass, something to stay on level ground with when you catch yourself falling. Zemo was your equal, no matter how much you hated him. And equals like you two don’t have room for a third party to jump in and surpass. The game isn’t any fun when someone fucks with the rules. He had a point when it came to beating Walker down, especially since the man was already fighting you both with molotov cocktails and rocket fire in the form of playing dirty on the track. He was bringing a war to a battle just to see if he could come out on top. Despite everything telling you to stay away from Zemo and not get involved in this scheme, that it could end badly for one or both of you, you couldn’t stand the idea of having Walker walk all over you like some doormat. You couldn’t let him walk in as if he owned the place and could rule as he pleased.

He needed a reality check.

Your form pops and cracks as you stand, stiff from sitting on the solid ground and stretching to relieve your body of the tension. Everything felt so wrong, and you knew you had to make it right...But was this the right way to do it? “Jesus, you sound like that rice cereal with the little elves. You know, snap, crackle, and pop?” You laugh lightly when your friend comes into the workshop, food in hand and dressed down from the usual luxury attire he wore when visiting. No suit and tie in sight, just the oil stained wife beater you had seen him in when pursuing your education in the states as he worked tirelessly on his little toys as you liked to call them. He sets the bag down, the scent of the food causing your stomach to growl and pinch with a hint of pain. Have you really forgotten to eat today? You hadn’t noticed. “Got your favorite. Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant that speaks English? I had to have Friday translate for me.”

“Maybe you should take a new hobby and learn the French language.” You retorted with a grin, the man shaking his head as he sets everything out. “Maybe I want you as my teacher, but you’re always busy with driving around in your fast little car and getting famous for fighting a Sokovian asshole.”

“And you’re too busy tinkering away with your toys in your little workshop in New York. Truly Tony, don’t tell me you actually want me as your teacher when your toys can teach you for me.” You pause as he rolled his eyes, watching the man for a brief moment as he turned to unwrap his burger. “Speaking of said Sokovian connard, he came to the bar I was at last night.” The man paused mid bite on the thick patty before speaking with his mouth full. “Okay, spill, what did he want?”

“Well originally I thought he was going to cuss me and try to blame me for the failure to complete the race yesterday, but he showed me something. You know the young man who won the race yesterday, corriger? John Walker?”

“Yeah, I know the guy. Races for the American McLaren team and came straight from F3 to F1. What’d he do?”

He raises a brow when you sigh, taking a seat beside him on the desk he had set the food down on and stealing the dish he had brought you. “Zemo showed me proof that Walker hit his car and sent him flying into mine. And I believe he did it on purpose.” You explain, taking a bite of the food your companion got for you. You pause for a moment to chew before returning to your theory. “On my way to the car bay, he smirked at me, and it wasn’t a “I won” smirk- well, it kinda was, but it was rather a “I did this to you” kind of smirk. Not necessarily an evil one but one that showed he knew exactly what he had done and was proud of it. Pride in an unfair act.”

“And no flags were thrown up?”

“Non, not a one. As our friend the Baron said,” you cringe at the term friend, “the ones watching the race possibly couldn’t tell if he had done such on purpose or by accident. I believe him about such. And I suppose that brings me to what I’m about to say next.” You take a breath, gaze conflicted and downcast to your food as you speak. “The Baron offered a temporary truce of our rivalry to take down this John Walker, thus allowing us to return to what we do best after Walker is taken down.” He listened intently before his nose scrunched at the idea of such. You two working together? Ha! That’d never work! “And you said yes to this crazy idea? What the Hell are you thinking, (first name)?” Your hands shoot up in defense, gaze rising to meet his own. “I know, I know! It’s a crazy idea, but you know as well as I do that if Zemo and I want things back to normal, back to the rivalry, we have to do this together so Walker is met with further resistance. If I could avoid it and deal with this American scum, no offense, then I would.”

“Some taken, but I get it. I just wonder if you two will go back to the way things are after all of this. Who knows, maybe you’ll become that dreaded word you hate to associate with him in any capacity-”

“Ne t'avise pas de le dire, Anthony.”

“Friendssss.” He draws it out, causing you to roll your eyes at his antics and slap his arm with the back of your grimey hand. He pretended to show a hurt expression before chuckling when another slap came, this time to his chest. “Oh hush, we will never be friends.”

“I guess time will tell.” A shrug followed as Stark finished the last bite of his burger, crumbling the wrapper and lining up the shot with the waste bin in the corner. “He shoots,” the paper lands in the bin, his arms going up in the air. “He scores!”

“Stop goofing around, ma amie. I asked for your help with this and now I need it.”

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

Three weeks have passed, and the Germany race is upon you. The Nürburgring, a beast of a track that many racers to this day in Formula 1 fear like a plague sweeping the track. Your mind has been racing as you pieced your car back together and got it ready for racing. What happens if something wasn’t installed in the engine right? What if you didn’t get the intake vents lined up just right? You were a perfectionist with your car, and you know deep down that it was ready for race day but it made your head sing with pain as a migraine sets in. That wasn’t the only thing that made it throb and bring you to lean against the chassis of your car. Zemo’s deal, it worried you sick. But you didn’t have time to think about it much today. You couldn’t dwell on it. You had a race to win.

Your eyes flick up at the speakers, listening to the message. It was press conference time. You take your seat where your name tag and flag set, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the crowd of reporters sitting and waiting to open up questioning. To your left, Walker seats himself with a boyish, charming smile that didn’t quite meet those dark eyes. He looked your way, hand held out to you. “Hey, I hate that we didn’t get to meet earlier on. I’m John Walker.” You glance at his hand before looking back up at him. He played a good game, acting innocent like the boy scout he tried to be. You wouldn’t fall for his games, but you shook his hand briefly. “(First name) (Last name).” He grinned. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been watching you race for years now! I hate that you crashed a couple weeks ago, would have loved to have been standing on that podium with you.”

“Oui, such a shame that was. But today is a new day, Mr. Walker.” Your gaze flickered to your right, startled by your rival taking his seat and looking directly at the pair of you. The Baron never sat beside you, even going as far as to request a seat change from the press conference coordinators. Some learned to keep you two separate, others knew it would incur drama, and drama made money.

“Alright everyone, please take your seats and the conference will begin in one moment!”

“Say, did you get your car all fixed up? Must have cost a pretty penny since you don’t have any sponsors.” Walker continued on, this time his gaze looking at the reporters as he gave a brief wave to the ones he recognized from the states. “Oui.” He gave a huff of a laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you?” You wanted to bite back, to say something and throw hands with this man, but you would be escorted out and disqualified in a snap. “Non.” A leg bumped yours under the table and you glance at Zemo who met your gaze briefly. Those dark brown eyes questioned if you were okay, a silent question that only you understood. The slightest nod was sent his way before looking at the reporters who got things settled and ready.

“Questions are now open-” The announcer was startled with the amount of questions directed in the direction of you three, clearing his throat as he nodded to your little trio at the table. Mr. Walker!” He gestured to the reporter, watching him stand and adjust his microphone and camera. “Mr. Walker, this question is open to the three of you. Under allegations from the previous race at The Circuit Paul Ricard, many are wondering if you had caused the accident involving Zemo and (Last name). How do you feel about these accusations?” The man had the audacity to laugh and throw that boyish smile to the camera, rubbing at his face. “Look, that was not supposed to happen once so ever. As many of my fellow racers can attest, one wrong slip of the hand on your wheel and your car will eventually go off track. I got nervous, twitched, and just so happened to bump the Baron’s car into Ms. (Last name)’s car. I feel terrible, I truly do, but it could have happened to anyone with any driver. So I refute these accusations and continue to say this is an accident.”

“And you, Baron, Ms. (Last name). How do you feel about the accusations?” The reporter gestured his question to you two now. “I respect your opinion, Mr. Walker,” Zemo began, the man smiling and sending a nod his way. “But I call, as the Americans say, bullshit.” His smile fell, darkened gaze questioning the man on what the Hell he was going on about. The reporters erupted in questioning, trying to get the attention of the two racers who stare each other down around you. You lean back a bit for them to have a better view-line, One of the American reporters calling your name. You use this moment to break the tension. “Oui?”

“Do you believe you stand a chance as a woman against these two leading men now that John Walker is starting to gain points and nearing your total?” You blink at his question before taking a deep breath, holding it to calm your throbbing head, and releasing it slowly. “Oui, I do. I believe I can keep up just as well as any racer. Take my racing career with Zemo. I have kept up with his old extrémité arrière.” The French reporters in the room resound in a fit of chuckles, bringing a smile to your face. “And against Walker?” You meet his gaze as he stares at you expectantly for an answer, forcing that smile he tried to use on you earlier. “I believe I stand quite a good chance, but que le meilleur coureur gagne.” You shrug, listening as the smaller drivers get asked their questions. The whole time there are eyes burning into the left side of your head, waiting until the racers are dismissed. Walker watches you as you walk out, watching the way Zemo comes up in tow as you make your way to the car bay. Something was up, and he could feel that there were clearly doubts in your mind about the accident in France. He would just have to deal with you later. “(First name), wait!” Zemo followed you into the bay, slowing from his jog to keep up with you to a stop near the desk holding your notes about the race and your vehicle. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you in person since the bar.” He paused, looking into those eyes of yours that gaze at him curiously. “Are you ready for this, fräulein?”

“Aussi prêt que possible, Baron.” You busy yourself with inspecting your car for any last minute changes, the man watching you as you inspect and work. “Good, good. And we are still a go, yes?”

“Oui, we are still, as you said, a go.” He grinned at you, gaze flickering down your back as he looked over your uniform. Of course he had noticed you in all aspects before, talent and skill being the top, but never had he been this close like the night at the bar and now to really see you. Maybe after all of this, even with the rivalry, you could be friends, dare he say anything more than such. “You’re staring.” You quip, breaking him from his trance to meet your gaze. The faintest hint of color lingered on your cheeks. He coughed, trying to clear away the embarrassment lingering in his form. Why was he getting embarrassed? “Just thinking about what will be left behind when I pass you on the track, mein liebe.” Your eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed, the man relaxing due to how calm you are around him. No biting his head off, no anger, just chill. You stand and give a playful shove to his shoulder, smiling at the Sokovian. “In your dreams, Sokovian. Now, get the fuck out of my car bay.” He smiled to himself as he walked away, mind now clouded by the smile that lingered on your lips. He liked when you smiled, and he had to make sure this plan worked.

The race was gearing up to start, the same process as before coming into play. Car, balaclava, wheel. You take your moment to breathe, today your speed has placed you in second, just as the plan entailed. Zemo took the first position. He glanced your way, sending a nod in your direction, only to smirk beneath the balaclava when you flip him off like usual. The rivalry was still on, no matter what he would still have that after dealing with Walker. Still have you in one sense or another. Your glance focused in on the man across the way in the pole position opposite of you, his eyes locked on the two of you before meeting your gaze. There he stares you down, even as his helmet slipped on. The visor was flipped down at the one minute warning, eliminating the final clarifying view of his gaze. It was clear he was cautious of you, maybe even lingering with hate.

“Fahrer! Starten...sie ihre....Motoren!

That familiar purr settles into your chest, spreading through your body like a dam breaking and flooding the valley below. It stirs up the motivation to win once more, removing any doubt from your mind as you rev your engine. Zemo was right, Walker had to be stopped. With this attitude about racing, playing his little mind games and wrecking racers, he’d get someone killed just for first place. You couldn’t allow that...but you also couldn’t allow the rivalry you have established with Zemo to be broken because of someone else. There was too much there to be lost. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, licking your lips beneath the helmet as you prepare yourself for takeoff. The lights start counting down the race. Five seconds away, one green and two red lights. You watch them count down until the bottom lines of red are fully lit, then they flash off. You’re off, following Zemo right on the tail of his car as you start into the track. This track was a beast, your mind racing as it remembers every nook and cranny of it. Seventy three corners, eleven danger points, hair pin turns, all on a 12.8 mile long course that was deadly in the onset of any weather and people who get careless with their moves. Lucky enough, the sky was only overcast. No rain, little wind to interfere with the aerodynamics and mobility of the chassis, just the perfect chill in the air to remind you where you were in this moment. You take your turns with ease, avoiding the group of cars that began to follow suit on the track behind your own. Your eyes remained locked in on every shift to your side, Walker keeping close by within each turn and danger point you went through.

As you drive, Walker gets up past you within one of the speed trap areas, the stretch of road allowing him to be up beside Zemo and leave you on the back of their tires. Zemo had a plan, you believed in this plan… but had he just been toying with you to get closer to Walker? Doubt clouded your mind, even as you sped up in an attempt to join the boys directly in the front. Perhaps you shouldn’t have followed this plan, even as you get through the first twenty five laps, then the next twenty five. Each turn brought your tyres closer to Walkers who eyed you cautiously from time to time, as if silently daring you to pull a move like he did. Maybe you’d be caught and black flagged. Hell, that would make his fucking day if that happened. As he watched you, he had failed to notice on the wider strip of the track how Zemo began to drift further and further ahead. Then he was side tracked, Zemo slowing abruptly and stealing the attention of the young American driver. “What the Hell!?” He yelled over the roar of multiple motors, watching your car join Zemo’s side and the original speed be resumed. Now you sat beside Zemo on the track, pedal to the floorboard as you two kept your lead and basically walled Walker in. Each time he tried to drift around, one of you would shift your car just enough to keep him locked in. A grin met your lips as you drove, the energy of the race taking a whole new shift as you got closer and closer to the last lap with your rival right at your side. Tips of the chassis lined up perfectly, rear aerodynamic fins aligned like a well oiled machine. You two were in perfect sync as you put Zemo’s plan into action. Create a wall of impenetrable magnitude. If Walker tried anything, all three of you would go down. If he tried to get around, he would be blocked. There was no getting out from behind you two.

The checkered flag waved in the quickly approaching distance, your gaze for a moment looking at your rival. The blur of purple was steady, lined with yours like that of an air jet's flight coordination. Perfectly straight, and running at full throttle like you are. As your cars pass the finish line, debate begins to rise. It was too close in the end to call, at least not right away. You slow, allowing the purple beast to pass by and enter the pit before you, a silent gesture of courtesy to the man you worked with. He sent a small nod your way when he watched you get out of your car, helmet removed along with his balaclava and revealing the joyful grin resting on his lips. Anyone else would mistaken it for cockiness, but the look in his eyes said it all. You two did it, you beat Walker in the race! He must be furious! A breath is held on your end, helmet and the fabric covering your face discarded as you turn your gaze away from the arriving racers and the man you drove along with. You were locked in on that score board, curiosity eating at you for who may have won the race. You were neck in neck with the man, the smallest push forward could earn either of you the points for the day. No names shown yet, and you anxiously leaned on the hot surface of the carbon fiber vehicle as you waited. Each noise around you from the slow dwindle of engines to low, fading purrs to the pit crews of your respective teams surrounding you, your rival, and the newcomer were drowned out by the pounding of your heart as it flooded your ear drums. It felt like hours passed as you kept your gaze locked on, ignoring the happy clamour of your crew, the clasp of hands on your shoulder and pats on your back, even down to the ruffling of your hair in glee. Then it flashed up.

1st: (First initial). (Last name)

1st: H. Zemo

2nd: J. Walker

The press goes crazy over the news, each respective country reporting their amazement over the finishing results.

“Ein fehlerfreier, aber überraschender Sieg für Baron Helmut Zemo, der mit (First name) (Last name) gleichauf den ersten Platz belegt!”

“Victoire pour la championne de France (First name) (Last name) alors qu'elle rejoint le Baron Helmut Zemo dans une rare égalité!”

“In a remarkable and truly unprecedented event in The Nürburgring F1 race! Baron Helmet Zemo and (First name) (Last name) tied in a photo finish for first place, a rare occurrence that has set back American racer John Walker from the potential for first place!”

Your breath comes out shaky, slowly slipping out as reality hits you like a wrecking ball to a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs as a happy noise rings out from your lips, joining your crew in the celebration as they hug and surround you. You placed first. Zemo placed first. Curiosity met you, your gaze looking to the man who celebrated with his own crew before allowing himself a chance to settle his gaze on you in turn. There he sent a wink, a silent congratulations that made you shake your head at his antics before refocusing on the celebration. You would be standing with the man in first place on that podium, both sharing the victory wreath and spraying champagne all over the crowd of fans and your respective pit crews who were basking in the glory just as much as you two were. You couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in your form, even as you make your way not too far from your rival. For a second, just a split second, you let the rivalry go and let your smile be seen in accompaniment with his gleeful grin, shoulders bumping when you’re positioned at the podium by the F1 management crew. Press swarm to the area like flies to a summer barbecue, wanting to catch a glimpse of the rivals standing together, being on the podium and sharing first place. “Not so bad working with my, as you put it earlier, old extrémité arrière, hm?” He questioned as you two stood together, the closeness you two were forced into for the photographers far more comfortable than it would have been under any other circumstances. He blamed the feelings he had at this moment on the victory over Walker, over the rest of the racers, not even thinking that perhaps this was beyond the fact that he won but that you, his favorite rival, won alongside him. “Non, not the worst.” You joked lightly, forcing a serious face for the cameras when they began to picture you two side by side on the first place stand. He accepted the bottle of champagne before you could, holding it out. “You may have the honor, (First name).” Your fingers brush his own as you grasp the bottle with him, popping the cork and sending the bubbly to decorate the crowd. Flash after flash met you as you stood alongside Zemo and basked in the glory of the win. “How about drinks to celebrate? Even as rivals, I believe a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He whispered the question, causing your gaze to lock on his own in brief surprise. Was he serious!? “I um..Oui, sure. Meet you in town?” He nods, gaze seeming to glimmer ever so brighter as he takes his leave. Even when you separate to get cleaned of the alcohol and switch to “civilian clothing”, your smile doesn’t falter. Maybe it would be good for you to drink the night away with company that didn’t seem as bad as you once had thought before.

As you begin to peel away the racing suit, the flame resistant material bunching at your waist and revealing the open expanses of your back, the simplistic bra strap over the back the only material seen, you fail to hear the seething man enter your car bay. “Do you know what you just did, Ms. (Last name)? Who you fucked with?” Walker puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him, his face inches away from yours. “You went and fucked with the wrong man. You could have just accepted your loss, licked your wounds, and we would have been just fine. But oh no, you had to go and fuck with my winning streak with that Sokovian piece of shit.” He huffed when you shove him back, gaze narrowed and arms crossing over your bra covered chest out of annoyance. You could care less what he saw. “I don’t see why you’re so mad, Mr. Walker. You got a taste of your own medicine after that stunt you pulled back in France. You and I both know that was no accident.”

“You know what? Yeah, I did that. But I see you are working with Zemo now, which is also a big no-no in Formula 1. Seems we’re both sinners of the race. The greed of it.” His tone was a hushed, harsh whisper. There was no need to alert anyone that he was in your private quarters harassing you. “I’m nothing like you.” Your tone came out in a hiss, his downturned lips curving up into a grin at your response. “Oh sweetheart, I beg to differ.” He chuckled at the narrowed gaze he was met with. “You and your Sokovian boy toy need to back off. Let this happen like it should or you’ll not like what happens next.”

“And just what do you think you’ll do, John? Because all I’m hearing right now is a lot of talking with no proof of any big execution.” Your lazy grin and scoff of annoyance at his presence left him to raise his hands in mock defeat, hands coming to rest on your shoulders once more with a harsh grip that made your body tense and hold you there. He leaned in, even as you tried to lean away, his lips moving in close near your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” His tone alone makes your body betray you, the calm, cool, and collected front slipping as a shiver ran up your spine at his warning. And with that, he leaves you to get dressed for the night.

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Zemo texts you an address for a bar off the beaten path in Cologne, Germany, further than you had anticipated in going from the track but a welcomed change of scenery. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” The words stick with you, even as you drive the main road into the big city, looking for the bar Zemo had invited you to. It was connected to a hotel, a fancy hotel at that, with old architecture and lavish exterior. You could only imagine the interior! A nervous breath is taken as you get out of the car, gaze meeting the man you had just won with. He smiled at you, clothing casual and the air around him feeling far more comforting now than ever. The incident with Walker had left you rattled, sending your nerve endings to buzz and let your body know that you aren’t okay. Even though you felt off, you force a smile to the man who wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders and led you in to sit at the quiet bar. “So, did I not tell you the plan would work?”

“I just thought it was your cockiness talking, but I will admit, though it physically pains me to do so…” You pause, biting your lip. “Well?” You sigh. “You were right.” The words come out struggled and forced, the man's grin growing at such. “Ah~, I don’t believe I caught that.” “Oh va te faire foutre!” He chuckled at your words, hand raised towards the bartender to get you drinks. “What are you ordering?”

“Shots. We deserve something to toast our victory to, and I don’t believe champagne is your drink of choice.” He offered you one of the smaller glasses, his own raised before him as he locks those bright brown eyes with your own. “Ein Prost! To us, and our victory over John Walker. May that American schwein taste defeat again.” You raise your glass, hoping to drink away any thoughts about Walker's warning and leave it for the next day. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided right then and there that you would finally have fun and disregard the night that you sat across from your rival. Tonight you just wanted to drink. “À la vôtre!” The drink is bitter as it hits your throat and travels down your body, causing a warmth to spread soon after. Kuemmerling, a bitter concoction of herbaceous and bittersweet flavors. A drink of choice for Zemo it seemed because soon after the shots were downed, he ordered another round.

Shot after shot after shot is taken down until your body is leaning against his own and a joke that is shaky at best from his part sends you into a roar of laughter. He holds you close, laughing right along with you. “So... It’s Barenjar?” He snorts at your piss poor pronunciation of the new liquor joining the mix, shaking his head at you as he looks on with drunken vision. “Nien, nien, Bärenjäger. Say it with me. Bä-”

“Bä-”

“Ren-”

“Jäger!”

“Mick Jagger?”

He laughs in defeat, shaking his head as he watched you. So relaxed, so calm. He hasn’t seen you like this before in his life. He’s startled by your sudden movements after downing your last shot for the night, catching you as you try to stand and stumble as your feet betray you. Your body landing against his, his arms slotting themselves around your waist as your drunken gaze catches his own. Those brown eyes of his are hypnotizing, keeping your gaze locked on his own. “I have something to confess, (First name).” He paused to wet his lips, trying to piece the words together in his hazy mind. “I have liked you since the day I met you.” He finally blurts out, fingers moving up to brush away a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “You’re infuriating, yet calming. Stubborn and determined. Your smile is lovely and those eyes…” He trails off, leaving your hazy mind questioning what was going to come after, but you hardly have time to think about it as he pressed in closer, face inches from your own. The smell of Bärenjäger and Kuemmerling lingered on his breath as it fanned over your face, those brown eyes searching for something in your own. “Can you feel it, the connection we have? Can you see that we are not just rivals now?” His tone was just barely above a whisper, questioning you with a hint of desperation to his tone.

“Oui.”

That was the only answer he needed. His lips are on yours with fever and desperation, hands clinging to your form for dear life after hearing the words that sent him to fully fall into the feeling of you. You were his comfort, the one constant thing in his life. His rival...but right now you were the woman he sloppily kissed at the hotel bar as the bartender tried to catch his attention to tell you that you both were cut off for the night. His hands moved to grip at your thigh and tangle in your hair, abandoning the idea of holding anything back, the liquor giving him courage to make a move on you. He has wanted to do this for years, touch you, feel you, have you there with him in any way he could. He separated only when the threat of security was offered by the bartender, lips kiss swollen and a faint pant falling from them. “Come.” His hand takes hold of yours, leading you along to the lift and up to his room for the night. This hotel that he called home for the time being would serve well for what he had in mind to do to you. He led you inside, not even waiting for the door to close as he captured your lips once more, hands taking your rear in his grasp and hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around him, back pressed up against the closest wall he could find. He held you there, lips separating to begin trailing hungry kisses down the column of your throat and allow his hands to trace along your sides. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the bare skin there, wanting what he has longed for since the day he met you. A noise fell from your lips as he lazily suckled a mark over your pulse point, your fingers tangling into his dark hair and tugging the locks when his hips grounded against your own. He couldn’t help the fire blooming in his body, needy for the creature that has teased him for all these years, The one he thought he would never have a chance with because of their hate for each other on the track. He needed you, and in your current state, you were willing to accept any touch he offered. He was just Helmut Zemo tonight. Not your rival, not the Baron, just Helmut. And you were his (First name).

A groan left his lips when you pulled him by his hair away from your neck, hands working to take your shirt up and over your head. Throwing it aside, he looked at you with a gaze of admiration. It was similar to the gaze he gave when looking at the new modifications to his car, taking pride in the beauty of things that drove him to win. He dampens his lips, fingers lazily dragging up the expanses of your back from bottom to top, resting on the clasp of the garment covering your breast. “Darf ich?” Your nod was all he needed, the clasp undone with skilled fingers that knew precision, holding still on your back when your arms rose to take the garment and throw it in an unknown direction to be forgotten about for the time being. He wasted no time with taking one of your breasts in hand, fingers running over the sensitive bud of one while he took the other in his mouth, suckling and lavishing with his tongue. He took his time, drunken yet slowly sobering mind savoring each and every noise that fell from your lips as he toyed with your body. You’re barely into foreplay and he already has your panties soaked, the Baron being a creature that knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going without even knowing your body. He was skilled, that much was for sure in your mind as he switched to the other breast, paying equal attention to each. Those brown eyes of his don’t leave your face for a second, watching every reaction and trying to commit them to memory. If he could only have you tonight, he wanted to remember everything he possibly could. Every detail of your body, everything that drew a hitched breath or a low moan from your lips. Every shaky breath and the way your body would press closer to his greedy mouth and hand. He stored it all away. Maybe he’d wake up the next day and fancy this a pleasant dream...It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten worked up by thinking about you.

His hand traveled downward, cupping your sex through your pants as his own grinds up against your thigh, straining through the fabric of his pants. He ached for you, for your heated skin to be pressed against his own in a delicious rut of bodies. He traced along the seam, hearing the low whine that fell from your lips as he teased you through the material. “Helmut, stop for a moment.” The man paused all actions, his gaze shifted to a worried state as he met your eyes and spoke with concern. “Are you alright, mein liebling?”

“Oui.” Your fingers trace his jaw, the man's face briefly pressing in against your palm before delivering a soft kiss to the area. A tender gesture that sent butterflies to flutter in your stomach and heart to speed further than the foreplay had already caused. “I just...Take me to the bedroom. Please?” You preferred not being right beside the door where anyone could listen in, where anyone could hold a camera up to the peephole and record the sexual pleasures of the infamous Wildcard and Baron. That would make a top headline, wouldn’t it? He gave a chuckle at your demand, nodding as he kept his grip on you, your legs wrapping just a hint tighter around him as he moved you both to the bedroom. He’s gentle with setting you down, looking down at you when you unwrap your arms and legs from his form. “Scheiße, du bist perfekt.” He slowly worked on the buttons of his shirt, working each plastic piece through the loop with fingers that were known for precision on the course. A shift in his steering, taking hold of the semi-automatic paddle-shifters as he drove, it was all well calculated and that applied on and off the track. His shirt is shrugged off his shoulders, thrown aside before focusing on the belt on his pants. He gets it off with what can only be deemed a darkening gaze, knowing he’s getting closer and closer to having you. You rose to let your hands trail his chest, roaming over the lean muscle that rested there as feather light kisses met his collarbone. A shiver met his spine, shooting up in bliss as he allowed a moment to savor the feeling of you touching his skin. Your skin was so warm, so inviting. He was getting lost in everything.

Your fingers shift down his torso, trailing his abdomen before looping in the belt loops of his pants to pull him forward, a low growl falling from his lips when you place a kiss above the waistline of his pants. Your movements were confident, unzipping his trousers and tugging them down to reveal the tent hidden behind his underwear. He swallowed thickly as he kicked his pants off, watching your every move as you cup him through the thin fabric, thumb moving to brush over the leaking tip and cause a shaky breath to leave him. “Maus-” A groan leaves his lips when a jerk through the fabric is given, his head falling back briefly. He huffed when you repeated the motion, fingers anxious to wrap around his bare flesh and feel that hot skin in the palm of your hand. But he stops you, hand wrapping around your own and bringing it to his lips once more. “Tonight is not about me, maus.” You’re surprised when the man placed his hand on your chest, lightly pushing you back to lay on the bed as he slowly sank down onto his knees, ”Es geht nur um dich.’ His lips drag slowly across your skin, trailing light kisses and nips along your abdomen and resting at the waist of your pants. He glanced up, a silent question of courtesy offered your way as his fingers loop in the band, asking permission like a proper gentleman. “Go ahead.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, his presence making you feel like you’re floating higher and higher on this ride with him. He gave a tug, your rear lifting and back arching to aid the man as he pulled your pants down and let them fall to join the scattered articles around the room. You’d have to go on a damn scavenger hunt just to find your clothes! But none of that mattered now, not when his hot breath is fanning over your needy core and face nuzzling at your thighs. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh before another followed, then another as he began to trail inward towards your covered core. “Aufgeregt?” He purred in questioning, a low rumble of a chuckle coming from deep within his chest spilling out at the small nod he is met with, loving how he has left you damn near speechless just by being so close. Your hips jump back before he gets a grip on them, his tongue moving over the wet fabric and causing a light whine to spill from your lips. “Helmut, please.” Oh, hearing you speak his name only egged him on further, needing you. He needed to taste you, to feel you. He needed you in every way, and his drunken mind only pushed him on to pull the fabric away from your legs and stare at the glory that is you. So wet, so beautiful. He wasted no more time, bringing your legs to hook over his shoulders and delved into the intoxicating honey pot he had been offered. He started off slowly, a long lap from entrance to clit given before the motion was repeated just to hear the noise that left your lips with each swipe. Zemo was mapping you out, taking note of what areas made your thighs twitch and tense, what areas made your hips jump back at the sensitivity of his touch, and what made those oh so delicious noises spill from your mouth.

He allows his tongue to focus in on your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a rhythm that sends your head to spin and moan after moan to spill from your lips. “Merde!” He smirked against your core when your hand shot down to tangle in his locks, needing stability after he took your clit between his lips and suckled. He repeats the motion, gaze locked on your own and watching the sudden shock of the feeling run through your body. You were so reactive, and just for him. A lazy lick is given to the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your hips jerk lightly and seeing the tremble that began to settle into your thighs. “Close?” He questioned as if he was questioning about an everyday thing, totally not giving the impression he was getting you close to orgasm just with that sinful tongue and lips of his. O-Oui.” Your tone was shaky, breathy, eyes half lidded and watching his every move on you. “Gut.” A gasp fell from your lips when he sank a digit into your hot, needy core, arching along the way and searching for the sweet spot deep within. He wasn’t like the inexperienced boys who would just jab their fingers into their partner and hope it hits something. No, his fingers curled, probed, dragged and felt for that spot in a way that showed his experience. A second digit is added not too long after the first, probing the flesh within until he hears your moan and finds that spot that drives you to clamp your thighs around his head. A groan left his lips at the rush of slick is met with each probe, massaging that spot within you and only adding to the tension building in your core. Each throb he was met with only spurred him on. He was on a mission to bring you over the edge, and he would do anything to get you off. When his mouth returned to your still sensitive clit, tongue flicking of the bundle and including the occasional suckle while his fingers moved deep within, you were done for. A rough tug is given to his hair as your body convulses, thighs clamping around him and grinding your hips down against his eager tongue. He helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping at your clit until you give a light shove to his head to make him stop. A wicked smile crosses his features as he gives one final suckle, a squeak leaving your lips at the motion and shoving him back as much as your trembling body allows. He can only chuckle at the attempt, fingers removing from your throbbing core. He watched your gaze land on him when you caught sight of the digits, watching the man move his glance to them as if he was inspecting them before a quiet whimper left your lips when they were taken one by one into his mouth. He made it a show, teasing you as he cleaned each digit of your juices in a slow motion. Sinking down to the knuckle before returning and licking at whatever was left. “Tease.” You huffed, chest rising and falling steadily with your hammering heart. “Oh you know you like it.” He retorted, lazily letting his body climb up and over yours on the plush mattress.

He pushed the final material separating you from him away, throwing the underwear away before letting himself settle in against your body. Zemo wasted no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, lips joining yours as he lined up with you, one hand taking hold of your hip while the other took hold of your hair, tugging it back enough to have access to your neck. As he begins to ease himself within you, his lips attach at a section of your neck, a harsh mark left in his wake as he sinks inch by inch within the lightly pulsing core that he toyed with before. A groan was left against your skin when he was fully settled, grip rough on your hip but movements gentle as he waited for you to adjust. He was no animal, not cruel! He knew that there was a possibility for pain if he moved too soon, and even in his drunken haze he recognized the look in your eyes, the slight twinge of pain from his size alone. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant, no, but it was an intrusion you weren’t quite used to when normally doing this. He lightly placed kisses to sooth you along the mark he left, trailing them up the underside of your chin, going along your jaw before soon connecting with your lips in a soft kiss. Something to distract you until you were ready for him to move. A shift of your hips was given when you tested the feeling of him in you, the moan that left your lips causing a low growl to fall from his own. He lifted his body to loom over yours, hand moving from your hair to cup a breast as he sets a slow, deep and even borderline sensual pace within your core. Slowly out until the tip stayed just barely in before plunging deeply into your warm, wet depths. He huffed with each push of his cock within your core, meeting your moans with a faint groan here or a soft growl there when your walls gripped him just right. He was losing composure with each faint twitch of your walls around him, pace beginning to pick up into a steady rhythm that developed the noise of slick skin hitting skin and the bed beneath to creak ever so slightly with each movement. “Verdammt!” He could tell how your walls began to tighten around him, how each noise leaving your lips grew louder and louder. His poor neighbors, hearing you both so vividly through the walls of the hotel. Yet he didn’t care who heard. As long as they knew that in this moment, you were his to take, that was all that mattered. Zemo moved his thumb to your clit, working the bundle along with the assault he laid on your sensitive spot deep within. Each clamp around him brought his own release to come closer and closer. “Cum for me, maus.” He demanded with a grunt, needing to feel you come undone to reach his own release. His words hit somewhere deep in you, the demand that was laced with a plea driving you to your second orgasm of the night. He groaned as he felt you clamp around him, the sensation alone causing him to remove himself from you and spill onto your stomach with a few quick pumps of his hand along his slick coated member. He pants, taking in the sight of you one final time for the time being. Messy, slickened by your own arousal and sweat. Your hair was messed up, your lips parted and panting. To add the cherry on top, you were coated in his release, a sight for sore eyes while you lay like this. He made you like this, and it swells his drunken ego.

Slowly he eased down to lay at your side, bringing you in against him with an almost delicate kiss delivered to your temple. Your breathing slowly evened out, head resting against his chest as his fingers trail along your back, drawing imaginary patterns as his mind begins to blank. The alcohol was taking effect, causing him to enter a lull and for his eyes to flutter shut. As you lay there, catching your breath, you watch as he drifts away, a single question beginning to enter your sobering mind.

“What have I done?”

Tag List: @darksxder | @mymagicsuitcase | @mischief-siriusly-managed | @alindeluce

#Baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #racing au #daniel brühl #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #john walker #john walker is STILL an asshole #multichapter story #chapter 2 #“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

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messrmoonyy · 3 years

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Can you do Remus proposing to tonks? I would love lots of fluff today

Hello thank you for tha request my lovely. I’m a sucker for a cliche and I’m a sucker for a happy carefree Remus.

I also really believe that his proposal wasn’t planned. He doesn’t strike me as a man of theatrics and was almost spure of the moment because he was just so overwhelming in love with her. So I hope this comes across well. Soooo. Hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: Nymphadora tonks x Remus lupin

Warnings: none // pure fluff

On the week or so after a full moon Remus slept like the dead. More often than not he could sleep for entire days or fall asleep after lunch and not wake until the evening. Dora often let him. Even when he asked her to not let him sleep so long, claiming he clearly needed it. Sometimes she’d accidentally wake him, stumbling in from some mission with the order and slamming the door to his cottage a little harshly. She’d also gained the habit of tripping over the coat stand, something that fondly reminded him of the first time he’d met her. She’d dashed down the hall of Grimmauld place only to trip on the umbrella stand, sending herself sprawling onto the floor at his feet.

Though she wasn’t due out on any business today , order or auror related. So he had half expected to wake up and hear her bashing around at something. Or even taking a nap with him. But he woke up to silence.

“ Dora? “ he called, his voice a little hoarse from sleep still. Panic set in almost instantly when he didn't get an immediate answer from her and couldn't hear anything to suggest she was pottering around near by. The only sound he could hear was the rain outside pattering on the windows and the roof, and the sound of a leaks somewhere that they never did seem to be able to locate " darling? " he got out of bed and pulled on the closest pair of trousers and a sweater, tucking his wand into his back pocket and left the bedroom in search of her.

Not that there were many places for her to hide. His cottage was small. Tiny.

“ Dora? " the back door was open and he hurried over, a million explanations flooding his head only for his panic to vanish immediately. She was in the back garden, barefoot and dancing around in the rain. Her clothes were soaked through, her hair sticking to her face, and she had the biggest smile he’d seen in a while.

" Dora what In Godrics name are you doing? " he said with a smile as he stood in the doorway. watching as she stopped spinning around and tilted her head back, sticking her tongue out to catch the droplets.

" I'm dancing clearly " she turned to look at him then and held out her hand, wiggling her fingers in his direction "c'mere. Come on. Come dance with me Remus " he hesitated for a moment but his usual sensible thoughts seemed to have vanished and he was joining her in an instant. She squealed with joy and grabbed onto his hands, jumping and spinning around with him. He still didn’t know how she constantly had so much energy in her.

He spun her around with her hand above her head and then captured her in his arms, pulling her back against his chest as she laughed. He rested his chin on her shoulder and pressed a couple of soft kisses to the side of head as they swayed together.

" you ever had a dance in the rain before? " she asked.

" this would be the first "

" good. Everyone has to do it at least once in their life's. Check it off the old bucket list now huh? "

The sky wasn't very clear with the rain but in the darkening evening you could still just about make out the Sirius star. Sirius would probably be laughing at him now, because dancing around in the rain wasn't really a Remus thing to do. Remus wasn't so carefree. But maybe that was the old Remus. Dora brought out sides to him that he didn't even know he had. She turned in his arms then and leant up to his ear.

" catch me " she pulled back with that cheeky grin of hers and dashed off around the garden, mud splashing up the backs of her legs. He ran after her, laughing as he did, trying to ignore the ache in his joints " come on slow poke! " he had visions of her clumsy feet slipping in the wet mud and it spurred him on faster and he grabbed her around the waist, picking her up into the air as she squealed a laugh.

" got you " he whispered with a smile against her ear, holding her close against his chest again.

" congratulations, here's your prize " she turned her head and brought her hand round to his face and kissed him. She twisted around in his arms, her hands snaking around his neck. The rain made him reminisce on their first ever kiss, cramped in a dark Islington alleyway after barely escaping Greyback, rain pouring down on them in buckets. He could still see it so clearly in his mind, how her face had looked with the rain trickling over cheeks, her little nose turning pink from the cold, the burning urge he'd had to kiss her finally being satiated.

Even to this day he wasn't quite certain if he had gone in for the kiss first or she had, but either way he'd never forget it " I love you " she said softly as she pulled away, rubbing her hand through his soaked hair and blinking rain from her eyes " just in case you forgot " he smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

" how could I forget, you tell me everyday... I love you too " he rested his forehead to hers and closed his eyes for a moment fingers brushing gently against her cheek. She kissed him again before pulling back, grabbing his arms and swaying with him in the still pouring rain. He took a look around him towards the dim little cottage, who's only light was coming from the fire, as she spun around under his arm. He thought of how much his home had changed since she had moved in, how she was everywhere in it.

The pictures on the wall, the boots by the door, her auror robes hung on the coat stand, the weird sisters poster that was hanging a bit wonky by the front door, her auror certificate that she had hung alongside his DADA qualifications. And it was in that exact moment that he decided what he was about to do. Because they were in a war. And he loved her. He loved like he had never loved a single other person in his entire life. And he knew that they could die tomorrow. Or they could die in years to come if they won. But either way, he wanted to die with her. As her husband. With her as his wife. He knew that he shouldn't. That she was already to be subjected to a life of outcast, even if they did win the war most likely, just by being with him as she was now. And marriage would most definitely solidify that fact.

But he was feeling selfish. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted her. And only her. He wanted her as his. And only his. He knew he should have prepared for it. Or maybe have at least thought it over a little longer, more time to fully determine how he would do it. What he would say. But they didn't have time. Time was such a luxury these days. And the amount of time he had been able to spend with her lately, it was starting to feel too good to be true. So he had to seize the moment.

" marry me " he said quite simply, the words slipping past his lips before he could stop them. She stopped her moving and almost froze on the spot. She turned around, rain dripping off of her face, clinging to her eyelashes. She had no particular expression, but her hair gave her joy away. It had been a deep shade of pink all day, but now it was growing brighter by the second. He held her face in his hands, looking how her eyes seemed to be sparkling. She was so beautiful. She was so so beautiful

" marry me Dora "

" what " she squeaked. He knew she'd heard. He'd said it twice. But in true Nymphadora fashion she just wanted to make him say it again " Marry me " he repeated, a smile taking over his face " I'm asking you. To marry me Nymphadora Tonks. I can't offer you much. Merlin I don't even have a ring at the present moment. And I know that a wedding isn't best placed right now, But I love you. And I vowed to you I would never leave you again, that I would love you until my dying breath and beyond. Let me prove it.... Nymphadora. marry me " he could practically feel the excitement buzzing out of her but she raised an eyebrow and slung her arms around his neck, trying her best to remain casual.

" if you promise to stop with the Nymphadora then you've got yourself a yes Mr. Lupin " he couldn't help but laugh at her and her lips lifted up into that grin that he loved so much.

" so...is that a yes "

" of course It is you silly git " and she stood up on her tiptoes and pulled him in for a kiss so passionate that he was certain that it must be illegal in some parts of the world. The rain was starting to chill him a bit but he couldn't find it in him to care. Because he was getting married. He was marrying her. His Dora.

His wonderful, beautiful, caring Dora.

" would I be Mrs. Lupin then? " she asked a little breathlessly as she pulled away from the kiss.

" I think... I think it'd be best if you waited until after the war for that. Just in case "

" and if we don't outlive this war? I won't die a Tonks if I'm married to you.... what about Tonks-Lupin huh? "

" even that is dangerous " he said softly, knowing that she wouldn’t settle for anything less than what she’d suggested. But he had to warn her.

" I don't care. I don't. You know I don't. I wanna be a Lupin. I wanna be like you, I wanna show I'm yours " he wasn't about to argue with that. He wanted her to be his too, in name and in law and everything in between that. Though he would have the conversation with her again, just not right now. He kissed her and she smiled against his lips. She knew she'd won. But he let her revel in her supposed win, because now he guessed he had an entire lifetime with her to go, an entire lifetime of others things she could lay claim to winning.

#ask #messrmoonyy writes #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #remadora #harry potter #remus x tonks #ronks #the marauders #lupin #tonks x lupin #tonks #Remadora one shot #fluff

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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It’s been a long, long time

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: You never knew what fate had in store for you, as if it was testing what it had offered you one day it took away from you the next. It was almost four years after Steve gave himself up to save the world, but you had never given up hope of being with him again.

Warnings: Angst. Disappearance. Fluff ending.

Word count: 2883

A/N: Captain America First Avenger / Avengers Endgame. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Song: It’s been a long, long time - Harry James

1949.

The rumours of his possible return were fading with time, but hopes were not falling.

Nearly four years had passed since the end of the Second World War, and the consequences were soon felt worldwide, especially by those who had survived that tragic period. You had been present from start to finish, being a potent participant in the covert operations linking the US and the UK. Although you had not been on the front line fighting as a soldier, you had been on the front line commanding the actions they would take. In 1939 you became a member of the British Royal Military, then a recommendation from a superior officer led to you joining the Special Operations Executive, a British spy agency, changing your destiny, causing MI5 to contact you, and then you were seconded to the Strategic Scientific Reserve, a top-secret Allied war agency during World War II, created by President Roosevelt. Too many things happened in a single year, too many things that would change the course of your history, but the most important was yet to happen.

In 1943 you were assigned to Colonel Chester Phillips' training base, known as Camp Lehigh, where you were assigned to supervise the candidate division of Project Renaissance, the project that changed everything. Project Renaissance was a highly secret project run by the United States Government. Its aim was to create super soldiers to be deployed during World War II against the Axis powers, thus having a great advantage in strategic warfare, however things didn't go as planned and they only had one success, a young man from Brooklyn named Steve Rogers.

You could never deny that you didn't notice him the first moment you saw him, he instantly caught your attention in two ways. The first of them was his physical shape, he stood out for his small stature compared to the other cadets, and his physical appearance looked sickly, although his medical record didn't say anything about it. On the other hand, the other aspect that impressed and inspired you was his courage and endurance to face each of the tests they had to pass, as well as his cunning, all of which won you over, as well as the generals of the project, as he was selected for the Renaissance project. The time you spent together at Camp Leigh made you realise the determination and humility he possessed, traits that the other members of the group, or any other man you had met before, possessed only to a slight degree.

The day the experiment was carried out, that is, the injection of the Super Soldier serum into Steve was another turning point in your life, the young man who went into that machine was not the same as the one who would come out of it, at least for everyone present, a human being went in and a super soldier came out, although for you he was still the same Steve Rogers with 30 centimetres more height and greater muscle mass. From then on he became the secret weapon that would overthrow Hitler, as the leader of the project, Dr. Erskine, was killed which meant that Steve was the only one of his kind.

You would have liked to have been able to say that your relationship was moving towards a more effective environment, but you were really living in a period of war, plus your character did not easily fit in with the word love, it never really did, or rather, you had never shown any interest in any man. You were rude, you had suffered enough harassment in your job, a job by and for men, to become insensitive in several cases. You were selective with your friends and also with the people you could trust, that's why every time you felt any affection for someone you stopped it, and that's what happened with Steve at the beginning.

Frankly, there were not too many moments to show your affection for each other, nor to enrich it, but every occasion that brought you together, there were certain feelings in the air that were never expressed in words. You encouraged him to be more than a lab rat or a fair hand for the soldiers at the front, you also helped him from your position with the missions, which after his triumph in rescuing the soldiers of the 107th infantry, were assigned to him. You complemented each other, you understood each other in many aspects that no one had ever understood, you had faith in him and he in you, that is why deep inside you were waiting for the day when the war would end to discover what it would be like to be able to dance with him without any worries around you, but it was not that simple.

As if the universe itself was mocking you, everything it had offered you was taken away in a breath. Even if you had never extrapolated it, your heart shrank every time he marched on a mission in enemy territory, you used to find yourself behind the controls of the base of operations that commanded his missions waiting for his voice or news from him to indicate what the situation was, but the last time what you saw was different. It was all a consequence of your attack on HYDRA HQ, you had worked out a strategy to take out their leader, the Red Skull, Steve was inside and you later came in with the assault guard and became part of the operation. Things had gone a little shaky during the operation, as the Red Skull managed to gain access to a ship and almost escaped from the place, but at that moment you appeared as if you were a breath of air together with Colonel Chester Phillips to offer him the last chance for Steve to finish him off and gain access to the inside of the ship that was about to escape, but not before sharing your first and last kiss. Every day you remember the last words you said to him in person "Go get him." before watching him jump into the plane and disappear into the snowy mountains.

After that, the ship became a direct path to death unbeknownst to you. A few hours later, from the command post, you managed to maintain a direct connection with the ship, specifically with Steve who was still inside it.

"Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?" you all heard from the intercom.

"Steve, is that you? Are you alright?" your heart raced as it did every time he was away from you on a mission.

"Y/N! Schmidt's dead.

That brought a breath of relief that neither of you had experienced for a long time, you could see a little light at the end of the tunnel that was getting closer and closer to you, but what you heard next put the light out again.

"What about the plane?" you asked still worried about his situation.

"That's a little bit tougher to explain," Steve's words were choppy.

It really was complicated, the plane was loaded with explosive devices and was clearly headed for New York City, that meant there was only one possibility and you all knew what it was. You tried to talk him out of it, to find a new solution, but time was running out.

"Y/N, this is my choice," a lump formed in your throat at those words. "Y/N?"

"I'm here," you managed to say with watery eyes and a hand to your lips.

"I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance," you heard through the intercom, as a sharp gust of air rushed in between his words.

"Alright," you hid a soft sob. "A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club."

"You got it," he said firmly, making it seem real that he was going to show up there on Saturday.

"Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?"

"You know, I still don't know how to dance," a wistful smile appeared on your face at his words.

"I'll show you how. Just be there," you said almost begging him.

"We'll have the band play somethin' slow," Steve picked up the pace of his words, "I'd hate to step on your...

That was the last time you heard his voice, the line connecting the intercom to Steve went static with a soft continuous noise, that's when the tears flowed freely down your cheeks.

"Steve? Steve? Steve?"

Of course, life puts us all to the test, we believe we need redemption for the acts committed in the past, that often makes us lose hope that better times will come. Almost four years have passed since those last events, since you shared your first and last kiss with your Captain America, since you heard his last words and since you felt that thing called love. Now your life had been turned upside down, you had dreamed for too long of meeting him, of seeing his face again and not only through those war films, but your life went on and you couldn't keep yourself stuck thinking about him, that's why you had decided to leave the Strategic Scientific Reserve and go into a new project with Howard Stark, called S.H.I.E.L.D.

It was unusual for the month of January to have that warm morning out, although it was actually quite comforting as it had brightened up your day, and even when you got home you opted to start cooking to the rhythm of whatever song was playing on the radio, which was unusual for you. The open windows allowed the sun's rays to stream into the living room, offering that homely touch that the little house in the middle of a residential neighbourhood lacked. Due to your countless projects and missions in the SSR you had not been able to enjoy home life as much as you would have liked, although it was really your decision, that house was too quiet and too big for you alone, although the radio offered you the company you sometimes needed.

As if it were a special event you had brought out the table linen and arranged the table in the parlour to eat there for the first time, normally you used the table in the kitchen, for you did not waste too much time on your meals, but this day was a new beginning, a new year, a good time to work out new habits. You opted to open a bottle of wine, which had been a gift from your dear friend Howard Stark, and poured yourself a glass while you waited for the chicken to make its acquaintance in the oven. The rhythmic melody of Nat King Cole along with your glass of wine lifted spirits that hadn't been this high for some time.

"Love is all that I can give to you," you intoned as you walked around the kitchen.

The midday seemed to be going smoothly, until a crashing noise from the front door brought you to a screeching halt. "Ogh, Mrs. Foster," you said to yourself before taking a sip from your glass of wine to fill your spirits. Mrs Foster was the neighbour from across the street who was always knocking on your door whenever she could, hoping to whisper about the other neighbours and glean as much information about you as possible, the funny thing was that she always barged in at the most inopportune times.

"I'm coming!" you exclaimed, taking off your apron and placing it on the counter. "I'm there!"

When you reached the front door you took five seconds to exhale the air inside you, position your dress correctly, take another breath, roll your eyes and expose a wide grin before you very quickly lowered the door handle. We've been talking before about all the turning points that changed your life and shaped your destiny, okay, that was one of them, maybe the most important one of all, the one that set the rest of your life on track.

"Hello Mrs. Fos-!"

Your voice disappeared, your vocal cords seemed to break at that moment, your wide, false smile also vanished as if it had never been on your face, your eyes seemed to have no eyelids and your lungs ran out of air, leaving you breathless. What you saw when you opened that door was your whole life, every moment appeared in front of you as if it were a frame. They say that happens when you are about to die, but it happened to you when the person you had loved had returned from the dead and was prostrate before you. You couldn't tell whether your reaction was the most humane or what someone else would have done in your place because you had never met anyone who had. Soldiers sometimes took long months to return home after the war ended, but it had taken Steve almost four years to do so.

Perhaps there had been hundreds or thousands of times you had imagined that moment, and now you didn't know what to do, your limbs were stiff, you were grateful for it or you would have collapsed in those moments. You kept holding the doorknob tightly, while he stood there on your porch staring at you, not knowing what to do. They were the longest minutes of your whole life, or maybe they were only a few seconds, you didn't know how time worked in those moments, but that didn't matter, your emotions recovered when you looked into his eyes, those blue eyes that you had dreamed of so many nights and they were watery, that was the sign that told you that this was not a dream, it was real life.

The air opened again and passed through your lungs in the form of a gasp, you shared the wateriness of his eyes in yours and in a moment you were wrapped in his arms. You could feel him again, or rather you could feel him around you for the first time. His arms were around your back bringing your body closer to his.

"You're... here." you murmured against his chest almost afraid that your words would make him disappear again.

"I'm home," he whispered against your forehead before kissing it and pulling away to look at your face.

It really was him, you noticed the odd changed feature, as if the years had passed him by more quickly, but there was no doubt that it was Steve. He placed his hands on your cheeks cradling your face, that sensation made you close your eyes as you placed your hands on his. Gingerly, you felt his breath collide against you and the longing for his lips that had haunted you for so many years came to an end.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours.

"No, you're home," you murmured, taking his hand and bringing his palm to your lips.

The open windows of the living room let out the melody of the radio, as if it were one of those Hollywood feature films with its own soundtrack. For a few long minutes you stood there on the porch of your house, oblivious to everything around you, oblivious to curious stares or if the chicken was burning in the oven, there was nothing more relevant than the two of you.

After a few minutes without taking your eyes off each other you took his hand and went inside your home, there were no unnecessary questions, no comments that could break the moment, your gazes were pleased to observe each other and as if your thoughts were connected and the person in charge of playing the songs on the radio knew it, one of Steve's favourite songs began to play. Harry James' voice came into the room, giving you the moment you had wanted for four years in your case, but for Steve it had been many more.

“Never thought that you would be

Standing here so close to me

There's so much I feel that I should say

But words can wait until some other day”

His arm found position around your waist and your face found position on his chest. You listened to his heartbeat work to the rhythm of the melody, you could never have imagined ever feeling like this again, you would have made a pact with the devil on too many occasions to feel it. It was so unreal that you had to lift your face from his chest to look at his face again, to find out if it really was Steve in front of you, it was.

“Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It’s been a long, long time

Haven't felt like this, my dear

Since I can't remember when

It’s been a long, long time”

Life had offered you a new opportunity to enjoy it together, and you were never going to miss it.

“You'll never know how many dreams

I've dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time”

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missscarletta7 · 3 years

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The Broken Crown- Chapter 2

Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...

Hello! Enjoy chapter 2!

OoOoOo

"Keep spendin' most our lives, Livin' in the gangsta's paradise,

Tell me why are we so blind to see,

That the ones we hurt, are you and me"

~Gangsters Paradise~

1919

"Mags." Was the first thing the young girl heard as she was gently shaken awake, "Go lay in your bed, eh?"

Upon half-opening her eyes, she saw it was Tommy who had been talking to her. Maggie only then realized she had fallen asleep sitting upright. She responded by rubbing her neck and slowly nodding. Clumsily she got off the bed with her journal in hand.

It was early. The exact time she wasn't sure, but sunlight wasn't streaming through the window yet. She entered the quiet hallway, navigating herself to her bedroom in the darkness. When she opened her door, she discovered a figure standing in the middle of the half-lit room changing clothes.

"There you are," Ada whispered out, shimming out of her slip, "Was wondering what happened to you."

"Slept in Tommy's room," She explained, yawning lightly. "Just get in? What time is it?"

Her sister nodded as she continued to change into a nightdress, slipping the fabric over her head. "It's just past four." She informed as the younger girl motioned her way around her sister to flop onto the bed, making it creak from the force of body weight.

"How was your night?" asked Maggie, moving to make her head more comfortable on the old shapeless pillow.

"Romantic." The older girl hummed, sliding into bed next to her sister. "I've never felt this way about anyone."

Maggie turned her body on her side. "Wish I could put a name and face to this mystery man." She watched her sister's eyes flash with guilt. At the realization of her thoughts were now said aloud, regret formed in the pit of Maggie’s stomach.

"I promise I'll tell you sooner than you think, I just-" Ada didn't have to finish the sentence for Maggie to understand what she was going to say: 'I just can't deal with our brothers if they find out '.

"I know Ada," was the last thing the sleepy girl said before closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Eventually, she woke up again around seven in the morning. Carefully, she got out of bed trying not to wake up her sleeping sister, and dressed accordingly in one of Ada's old dresses. She also made sure to pack her journal into her book bag before making her way downstairs. Once in the kitchen, she saw Tommy reading the paper and Finn eating his breakfast.

"Morning." She said, grabbing a bowl and spoon to scoop mushy porridge out of a metal pot, which was sitting on top of the only working stove burner. Polly had most likely prepared it for them. "How did you sleep?"

Tommy knew that question was directed to him, "Better than I have in weeks." This made his sister smile as she sat down in the chair next to him. "Your writing has improved. But then again, I haven't heard you share your work since you were twelve. Pol says you won't even share with her or Ada. Why's that?" He was genuinely curious.

"I don't think it's ready to be shared yet," Maggie shrugged.

He peered at her as he set the paper down onto the table, "You shared last night."

"Only to put you to sleep." She countered, bringing the spoon to her mouth to consume the beige-colored substance.

"Going to have to sometime," he spoke sincerely. "How else are you going to become a writer, eh?"

He was right, she knew that, but right now, her writing felt sacred. As if her words were only meant for her. She was still coming face to face with a paradoxical problem. Every time she would write something down, it would instantly not be good enough. The pages of her journal seemed to have more scribbled-out lines than actual words. She just couldn't explain this feeling properly, and if she couldn't express her feelings in words, how could she write? No, sharing her words would only lead to not being understood. Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the opening and slamming of the front door.

"Tommy!" John angrily stormed into the kitchen, "It's Danny! Those fucking Wops got a hit on him."

Tommy answered back by pushing himself out of his chair and hurriedly following his brother out of the home. Finn quickly tried to follow, but Maggie grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, "Let go Mags!" he cried out.

Maggie sighed, "C'mon, let's get you ready for school." Finn could only respond with a groan, allowing his sister to lead him upstairs.

OoOoOo

The next day, a smiling Maggie was squished between John and Finn in the family car. She could barely move without hearing a complaint from John, but she didn't care, she was too excited. They were all on their way to the fair, which had been set up right outside of Birmingham. It had been so long since she had been to one. They were almost there, and she could see the big red and white striped tent peaking over the trees in the distance, so she was confused when Tommy parked the car in a clearing that was still a good distance away.

Arthur spoke up at once, "Thought you said we were going to the fair"

"Yeah, what are we doing?" She asked nervously, leaning her elbows against the front seat.

"We have business first. C'mon, bring your wits." Tommy said getting out of the car with John and Arthur following. He glanced over to his younger siblings noticing they were trying to do the same. " You and Finn stay by the car."

"Seriously?" She just wanted to have a normal day at the fair with her family. Was that too much to ask?

Tommy pointed at her to emphasize. "Stay by the car, Mags."

"What business?" Arthur questioned.

"That's the Lee family," She heard John say.

Great the Lees, thought Maggie sarcastically, as she sank into the seat. Though she did perk herself up when she saw a familiar face walking towards the car.

"Hi, Johnny!" She smiled and waved at the man.

"Well hello pretty lady," Johnny Dogs greeted as he approached the car. "Tell me, have you seen a lass named Maggie?" The teasing tone of his voice was prominent. He had not changed a bit in the four years his presence had been absent.

The girl giggled slightly at his antics, and with a playful air replied, "I'm Maggie."

"You canna be her." He overly acted out in disbelief, "Last time I saw her she was but a child!"

"Hang on a minute," They all heard Arthur say, "You're not swapping the family car for a bloody horse!"

Johnny turned around and quickly walked up to the oldest Shelby, "Of course we're not swapping it. Huh? That would be mad!"

"We're going to play two up," Tommy explained, handing a coin over to the family friend.

"Jesus." Arthur breathed out anxiously, as they all watched the pair toss their coins into the grass and lean forward to get a better view. Silently, Tommy handed over the keys to the car, much to the irritation of the eldest, "I knew it. Tommy, you bloody idiot!"

"Shut up Arthur. I won," Tommy told him, "I promised Johnny I'd let him have a spin in the car if he lost." He watched as the relief washed over his brother's face but was interrupted by collective snickering. He turned to the three men dangerously, "Are you Lee boys laughing at my brother? Are you? Eh? I asked you a question!"

"Tommy! Tommy, c'mon it's just a craic." Johnny reasoned, trying to keep everyone calm, "Get your family out of here and go enjoy yourselves at the fair before they start a war." Johnny then turned to the Lees, and Maggie was able to make out most of what he said. It had something to do about the grandfather she never met before one of the Lees replied, "Yeah, but his mother was a Diddicoy whore."

That had done it. Whipping his weaponized hat off of his head, Tommy slashed at the man's face. Arthur and John quickly joined in. Blood could be seen gushing from their faces as they all yelled obscenities at one another. Finn looked in awe at his brothers, his gaze never wavering from the fight, but Maggie felt sick.

OoOoOo

An hour later they had finally reached their original destination. Looking and walking around the fair was an amazing experience. The many rides, animals, oddities, and food all in one place were a wonderment to the many families that came out from all over the area. Yet, Maggie's level of enthusiasm was less than what Tommy had expected. She couldn't shut up most of the way there, now she was as silent as a stone.

"What's the matter with you, eh?" Tommy questioned as they walked around the fairgrounds together, "Did you want to take a spin on the big wheel ride?" He pointed up to the giant machine with carriages that slowly spun in circles.

She asked quietly, "Did you have to hurt them?" Sure, Maggie knew what her brothers did. She would be naive if she said she didn't, but she had never been a witness to it. The violence that she had often heard others speak of was now forever ingrained in her memory, becoming a standard for their future offenses. "The Lee's." She clarified although she was certain he knew what she was talking about.

"They were disrespecting us Mags," He explained as if she were younger than Finn. "You heard them."

Tommy had always tried to keep her in the dark about their business practices, which was easy when she was younger. Unlike Finn, she had always kept her nose in a book, never really paying attention to the transgressions of her siblings. But now she was beginning to notice and was starting to ask questions he'd rather not answer.

"You couldn't walk away?" Maggie inquired, looking towards anywhere but his face.

He remained silent for a moment before stiffly asking, "Do you want to get on the fucking wheel ride or not?" That was Tommy-ese for 'drop it', so she did, and added herself to the growing line. Tommy followed her lead, standing behind her he pulled a cigarette out to smoke as they waited.

Maggie was quiet the entire duration of the drive back home. The setting sun rays peeked through the gray smog as they entered Small Heath, they all noticed the place had been trashed. Broken and ripped furniture looked like they were just tossed in the streets and all those who watched the Shelby car roll slowly down the street managed to give them all a dirty look.

Arthur was the first to speak up, "Now, what the bloody hells been going on here?"

OoOoOo

Apparently, from what she gathered it had been the new copper that had been behind the trashing of their neighborhood. Maggie and Cara walked through the crowd, as they recounted the events of each other's day. Thankfully the Ryans dress shop had been spared from the destruction and Maggie told her friend everything about the fair, excluding the violent beginning of course. In front of them stood a pile of portraits that had been gathered from around all the homes and businesses of the community. Once they were lit on fire, familiar faces were lit up as well to contrast the darkness. They both soon saw Ross with a crowd of men, most likely coworkers from the BSA. Once he saw them, he waved them off and began moving toward the girls.

"Are you ever going to tell him?" Maggie asked her friend, as they watched the young man weaving his way through the crowd of people.

"I will!" Cara defended before adding, "Eventually." Maggie tried to hide her smile.

"All right ladies?" Ross greeted once he was near enough.

"So, what's all this about then?" Cara questioned somewhat flirtatiously, pointing at the heap of portraits.

"Ask Mags," Ross replied, sending the dark-haired girl a smirk, "It's her brothers that have organized all this, went 'round taking everyone's pictures."

"Oh right, because they run everything by me first." she joked, causing both her friends to chuckle. Cara soon took over in leading the conversation, but Maggie was only half paying attention. Curiously, she watched as Tommy spoke with a man that she had never seen before. He must have felt her gaze because he found her face in the crowd, causing Maggie to quickly divert her stare off her brother. Ross then pulled out a flask from a pocket inside his dark coat.

"Care for a swig?" He asked them, shaking the container slightly. Drinking alcohol was something she had never really made into a habit, for her it was only for special occasions. Without hesitation, Cara took the silver flask from his hand and drank a few gulps before passing it on to Maggie. Maggie glanced back to her brother, who was no longer watching her, but instead had gone back to his discussion with the man who was now writing something down on a pad of paper.

She grabbed the small open bottle in her hand and raised it to her friends, "Cheers." The liquid burned in her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow. She coughed at the sensation, making Cara laugh as she took the flask back in her hand, downing what was inside again. The small group of friends joked and drank for the next hour or so, as the flames of the bonfire created a comforting warmth over the burning expressionless eyes of his majesty the king.

OoOoOo

After drinking so much during the bonfire, Cara must not have been feeling too well because she didn't show up to school the next day. Not only that, but it also seemed as though Finn decided to skip again. So unfortunately for Maggie, she was fated to walk home alone. Slung over her shoulder was her book bag which carried a few books, pens, and her journal. As she walked past the first alleyway, she felt a presence quickly appear next to her.

"In need of some company?" Ross asked, tossing his finished cigarette onto the pavement.

"That would be nice." She smiled up at his tall frame, which had a good five inches on her.

He motioned to the bookbag that rested on her shoulder, "Let me help with that."

"I can carry it myself." She calmly asserted, which made the young man grin.

"Now how would it look to all these people around us if I didn't help you with that, Hm?" He waved his index finger around to point at various people going about their day, "Word will get back to my mum, and she'd beat me for not being the gallant gentleman she raised. And you'd be responsible for that. I'm only trying to save you from a guilty conscience later on."

She supposed she shouldn't let that happen. With a small smile, she passed the bag to him which he took gladly.

"Last night was fun, eh?" He continued, slinging her bag over his shoulder.

"It was," she replied, allowing her mind to wander through the fresh memories. "Though I think Cara had too much fun."

"Sounds like her," he snickered out, "Never scared of fun."

"What else do you think about her?" The dark-haired girl pressed.

"Who, Cara?" He asked and Maggie nodded. "I dunno." He shrugged, adding, "Nice I suppose."

"Oh c'mon, you have to see the way she looks at you" Maggie alluded.

"Never noticed." He admitted, looking uncomfortable.

She knew she couldn't push the matter any further than that. It was time to change the subject, "How's work?"

"Factory is on strike again." He answered her, appearing more relaxed, "Freddie thinks we should be compensated more. Guess we'd need that in order to make up for the wages we've lost."

She couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Of course, Freddy had something to do with this. Though she always admired her brothers' old friend for sticking to his beliefs, she silently judged anyone whose beliefs ranged on the spectrum of radical. "Freddie needs to be more careful. As do you, he's going to get everyone in some serious trouble."

He smiled at her worried words, "He'll be fine. I heard from other workers that he skipped town after the raid. As for me, I think that a bit of trouble is the only way to get what you want."

They had just turned onto Watery Lane, their pace began to slow until they eventually stopped just across the street from the front door of her home. "You didn't have to walk me all the way home, you know," she told him as he handed her book bag back.

His hazel eyes meet her blue ones, "I'd do anything for you, Margaret," he declared seriously. She couldn't help but think that there was a hidden meaning in his words. Was she reading too much into this? He must have meant that as her friend, right?

"I-," she started.

"Maggie!" Tommy's voice rang out.

Maggie turned her head to see her brother as he made his way toward them. The girl's heart clenched at the thought of what he was going to do. Her mind had quickly jumped back to the memory of yesterday, the slashing, the anger, the blood. She glanced over to Ross, whose expression went from nervous to stoic in a matter of seconds.

"Go inside," Tommy instructed once he stood close enough to the two teens.

"But-"

"Now Mags," he commanded with a low voice. Coolly, Tommy took a drag from his cigarette that was resting in between his fingers, not taking his eyes off Ross.

With a huff and a final look towards her friend, Maggie bid him farewell before swiftly walking toward the front door of her family home. Once the dark-haired girl was out of earshot Ross apprehensively spoke, "Mr. Shelby I- I was just walking her home, I wasn't trying to-"

"I know Ross," Tommy assured the anxious young man, tossing his finished cigarette to the ground. Pol had told him that the young Murray lad had helped look after his sister while he and his brothers were away in France. Had even heard a rumor amongst some of the younger men in the betting shop that he knocked the shit out of another boy who was sniffing around Margaret. If that was true, Tommy felt indebted. He was a busy man, so he cut to the chase, "You beat a bloke that was giving Maggie trouble?"

Ross modestly nodded at his question. "You're a good lad." The gangster commended, passing the young man one of his cigarettes from its silver metal casing. He also lit a match to assist him with lighting it. "Is your Uncle Ian still living in Dublin?"

Ross had to admit, he wasn't expecting the line of questioning to head in this direction. Nevertheless, he nodded once again, removing the rolled tobacco from his lips to allow a puff of smoke to escape from his lungs. The young man's confusion ceased when he watched Tommy pull out two pounds sterling from his pocket. Ross’s eyes couldn't help but widen at the act.

"Good, I want you to do me a favor. Call him and tell him to ask around all the local pubs in town if they know anything about a barmaid named Grace Burgess." As much as Tommy wanted to say he didn't care about this new woman who had found herself working at The Garrison, he needed to know exactly where she came from and if she was telling the truth. Digging out another pound he said, "Here send this to your uncle too."

"I will Mr. Shelby," he assured, accepting the coins in his outreached hand.

Tommy turned away and began walking toward his home, without looking back he added, "Welcome to the Peaky Blinders, Ross."

OoOoOo

When Maggie entered her home, she found Polly sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper and drinking tea. "Hello, love. How was school?"

"Fine." She replied curtly, dropping her book bag onto the floor beside the table. She immediately moved to the window, looking out just in time to see Tommy lighting a cigarette for Ross. Relief washed over Maggie, this conversation thankfully seemed as though it wouldn't involve fists... or razor blades.

Polly's eyes were now on her, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing." Maggie tore herself away from the window to sit down opposite her aunt, pulling out her journal and pen from the book bag next to her feet. Tommy ended up entering the kitchen not two minutes later.

"I hope you didn't tell my friend that you'd hurt him." Maggie told her brother much more boldly than she felt, "He was just being kind."

He stared at her for a moment before replying knowingly, "Now why would I hurt my newest recruit." With that, he exited into the betting shop closing the doors behind him. She gapped, still looking at the shut doors trying to process how Tommy could ever involve her friend in whatever schemes he was engaging in.

Her emotions must have shown all over her face because her aunt chuckled slightly. "I wouldn't worry too much about your friend," Polly told her eyes still on the black and white paper. But Maggie couldn't stop herself from slumping into the old wooden chair before she continued writing, ultimately stopping when she felt her sister's presence enter the room.

"Good of you to join us," Polly said to Ada from behind her newspaper. "Where have you been all day?

"In bed," Ada replied. "Couldn't sleep, then I couldn't wake up, then I was cold, and then I had to go for a wee. Then I was with this bear on a boat, but that was just a dream, then I was hungry." Maggie looked up from her journal once again to see that Ada took the empty seat between her and their aunt with a massive slice of bread with a jar of jam in hand.

Maggie looked pointedly at the last of the bread that she had made recently, "Jesus Ada, save some food for the rest of us."

Ada stuck her tongue out, before looking at her aunt, "Why are you reading the paper?" Ada inquired.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Polly questioned back, picking up her teacup.

"I've never seen you read the paper. I've only ever seen you light fires with them." The older Shelby sister continued, taking a bite of her food.

"BSA is on strike" Polly explained, "The miners are on strike. IRA are killing our boys, ten a day." Though when Polly stopped talking, she continued to stare at Ada eating.

The older girl soon noticed her aunt's gaze. "What?" She asked in between her chewing.

"Stand up," Polly commanded.

"Why?" Ada questioned.

"Just stand up," Polly ordered standing up herself, eventually Ada compiled, "Side on," Polly added and Ada motioned her body to face to the side. Maggie was taken aback when Polly suddenly cupped one of her sisters' breasts.

Though Ada was much more reactionary, "What are you doing?!"

"Ada, how late are you?" Polly asked seriously and Maggie couldn't stop her mouth as it fell open slightly.

"One week." Not too bad, Maggie thought. "Five weeks," Ada amended. It wasn't ideal, but maybe she was due any day now. "Seven, if you count weekends." The girl corrected herself once again.

"Holy Fuck, "Maggie shook her head in disbelief.

Ada seemed desperate for this not to be the reality, "I think it's a lack of iron. I got some tablets." She explained to them, as Polly sat back down in her chair.

"But they didn't work." Their aunt concluded.

Ada too sat back down, "No."

Maggie gulped at her sister's answer and looked to her aunt, watching Polly as she took a deep breath. The thought process could not be seen on her face, but the young girls knew that the situation was being meticulously addressed in her mind. "Get dressed. We're going to the midwife. Let's just make sure you are before anyone makes any rash decisions."

Ada nodded, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. Maggie's heart clenched, and moved her hand over her sisters, squeezing it slightly. Whatever was to come, they would weather through it together.

#peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby #shelby sister #oc #ada shelby #alfie solomons #john shelby #polly shelby #peakyblinders #1920 #arthur shelby #finn shelby

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obaewankenobis · 3 years

Text

for forever — obi-wan kenobi

pairing(s) : obi-wan kenobi x reader ( mostly focused on obi-wan’s character, not the relationship because i am a hoe for this man )

summary : after the fall of the jedi order, you can finally be together. alternatively, obi-wan needs therapy/deserves happiness.

word count : 2.1k

warning(s) : character death, a bit of angst i guess but it’s mostly fluff.

notes : roughly edited so i apologize if things don’t make sense, i honestly came up with this on a whim and have No Idea what was going through my head when i wrote this. the povs also switch a lot but enjoy </3.

The sand bit at his fair skin, the grainy winds of Tatooine ruffled through his auburn locks, peppered with strands of grey, as Obi-Wan Kenobi stood, rigid and grief stricken. Kind wrinkles framed his eyes, eyes weighed down by exhaustion and desolation, the memory of a thousand wars flickering in the brilliant blue reflection. Without speaking, the woman looking at him from afar knew he had suffered a lifetime of hardship and grief, his aching heart not given a moment to mourn the loss of those closest to him. The mahogany cloak billowed around his body, covering the burnt, tattered tan robes he wore, as the wind picked up, signaling there would be little time before the twin suns set and it was much too dangerous to be outside. Snuggled between the lone man’s arms, swathed in soft cream blankets to shelter him from the cruel and unforgiving weather, was a baby. With sea blue eyes and the sparse tufts of pale blonde hair, the newborn was the mirror image of his father — that in itself was bittersweet.

Fire. That was all Obi-Wan could remember, the smoldering lava confining him and his enemy — once his friend, his brother — inside a tight circle of flashing blue and blazing rage. Now, things were blissfully quiet, as if the universe was trying to give him peace of mind after what it had taken from him. With heavy shoulders and hollow eyes, Obi-Wan was a shell of who he used to be: a great warrior and an excellent negotiator, all gone. His last mission was here, on Tatooine, to deliver the baby to his aunt and uncle: Owen and Beru Lars. Then, he would spend the rest of his years wasting away in a sandy prison, languishing in his defeat.

“Is it true?” The woman from afar, who had taken to staring at him from a distance, finally approached him, awaiting his answer with bated breath — Beru. Is it true? The words reverberated in his head, as the reality came crashing down upon him. The woman in front of him needed certainty, she needed answers, answers Obi-Wan could not give her.

“Yes,” came the final reply. Who knew a single word could hold such heavy meaning? Yes. An entire government who’s history spanned hundreds of years prior collapsed within a single day? Yes, that had happened. His religion, who he had devoted his entire life to and poured his soul into, gone? Yes, decimated without a sliver of mercy. The baby’s father, the hero of the galaxy, the crown jewel of the Jedi Order, killed? Yes, murdered in cold blood.

Beru finally brought her attention to the boy nestled within the robes of the man. “Is he . . . ” She seemed to only speak in half questions, as if finishing the sentence would make it a harsh reality, and leaving the query to hang heavy in the air would somehow leave her life in a fairytale.

“Yes,” he replied again, nearly choking on his words as the boy let out a tiny coo, as if he sensed they were discussing him.

“Oh.” There was a pause, a flicker of hesitation, before the woman decided to continue her pattern of half inquiries to form her own story. “May I?” With shaking arms, Beruu reached forward to take the boy from Obi-Wan’s grasp and welcome the baby into her own warm embrace. Part of him didn’t want to let the child go, for once he did he would have no real connection to his past life. Letting go of the boy meant letting go of everything, from his first steps in the Temple, to his meeting with his apprentice on Naboo, to the countless, sleepless nights in a war torn galaxy, it would all be gone. The woman’s tender smile and patient gaze was nearly patronizing, she was trying to sympathize with something she couldn’t possibly understand. No one could. A wave of fury washed over him, trapping him in a cage of his own emotions. Obi-Wan had never felt such an intensity roll over his body, preferring to keep his temperament a tranquil, emotionless pit. But this raw, uncontrollable fury was soon washed out with an even more overpowering bout of sorrow, shaking him with such force it made his knees wobble and threaten to give way. For over thirty years he was taught emotions were the enemy, by being detached and aloof he would survive, and look where that had gotten him.

Another soft cry from the baby jerked Obi-Wan back into the present moment, as his tiny arms reached for the woman, drawn to her sunny kindness and comforting aura; he realized a place to call home or a comforting shoulder to cry on was never something he could offer as the baby grew older. The woman made a small clicking sound with her tongue, looking up at Obi-Wan with an expectant gaze, and yet his grip on the baby remained the same. Although his mind seemed desperate to listen to logic, to reason, his body remained motionless, following the dull ache and painful longing in his heart. The battle between his mind and emotions lasted a fraction of a second, and at last, as it had time and time again, his mind won.

Like he had done all his life, selflessly sacrificing himself for thee good of the galaxy, he let go.

The woman took the baby in her arms, and began her journey back to her homestead, pausing just slightly to exchange one last parting smile and a word of comfort. “I think someone wants to see you, Master Kenobi.” With that, Beru began walking, a happy baby in her arms, to her husband, just as the sky merged from clear blue to salmon pink and hazy orange, the twin suns beginning to disappear over the horizon rapidly. As the light dimmed and dusk settled in, the man could make out the shadowy figures of Beru and Owen Lars, holding Luke Skywalker in unmoving content.

Here to see me? Obi-Wan frowned, reflecting on the woman’s words. This was not his home, his very identity was supposed to remain a secret, who could possibly want to see him? Unless . . .

No, that was impossible. He had mourned your death just as he had mourned every other Jedi’s death the moment their own clones turned against them, and he would not allow even a tiny sliver of hope to crawl its way back into his heart. Because in the end, he could only cling to the belief that things would get better, and false hope in such a desperate time would be his undoing.

—

You wondered how long you could stand in the shadows before he noticed you, standing awkwardly by his dewback as he delivered Padmé and Anakin's son to his new family. Like Obi-Wan, you had suffered the loss of everything and everyone you knew, your entire life destroyed in the span of a second, and all you could do was stand there, watching everything burn. The Jedi robes you once wore with pride, robes that were once a symbol of humility and hope across the galaxy, now put a priceless bounty on the head of anyone who wore them.

“Obi-Wan?” The name was dry in your throat, mouth parched and lips cracked due to the harsh Tatooine heat.

Though he was always subtle, you could see his entire demeanor change, the way his shoulders became straighter, the way his hands, once balled up into fists of worry, were now relaxed and laying loosely at his side. In a moment, he had turned around and closed the distance between the two of you, caramel boots growing dull and scuffed as he stepped through the unforgiving desert surface beneath him. “You’re alive,” his voice came out in a hushed, cautious tone, disbelief still tainting the edges. “I thought — Yoda and I — the only ones left — ” his words grew more jumbled with each passing phrase that left his lips.

“But I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” you cut him off, the calm gentleness of your tone making him stop in his tracks. Slowly, each movement pained and deliberate, you stepped closer, inching your way forward until he was right in front of you. Neither of you could look away; with the Jedi Order dead, there was no reason to hide in secrecy now.

—

To realize he was not alone was comforting, but to know it was you he could seek company in was freeing. In that moment, with the distance so close between your bodies, Obi-Wan dared not breathe, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out the smallest of breaths — this was all he had ever wanted, and still, despite everything, it was something he believed he could never have.

He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it. Not after he spent all those years repressing the desire that burned so deeply within him it began to rot within his heart, trapped with no release in sight. At one point, he had every reason to deny the yearning stirring within him, but now? Now there was no war, no Council, no code, no nothing to stop himself from unleashing decades of pent up turmoil within him.

And stars, it was suffocating.

He couldn’t do this.

“You know you don’t have to push me away any more.” A suggestion more than a factual statement; voice thick and barely audible.

Was this a dream, a fantasy meant to be chased after in his sleep? Or some sick, twisted premonition the Force was trying to convey to him? So many nights he had spent languishing in his loneliness, dazed in a delusion that remained but a figment of his imagination.

��I know.”

“What?”

“The Jedi are no more. We . . . We don’t have to pretend we don’t have — ” The words were bittersweet on his tongue; even with no one there to watch and scold him, he could not betray his way of life so easily. That everyone I have ever loved, I have watched die in my arms? And throughout all of that, I have never been tempted by the dark side, but if I lost you, I would be afraid of my own morality? Those were not easy thoughts to formulate into a coherent sentence — there were no words Obi-Wan could say that would even begin to describe how he felt.

Instead, in a tender gesture of vulnerability, he reached out through the Force, and all at once it came crashing down on him.

This feeling . . . it was all consuming, and he was drowning, struggling to keep his head above water and not surrender to its frosty depths. He was submerged in an endless stretch of icy ocean water so frigid and numbing, that he felt nothing and everything all at once. It was terrifying to think — and let you know — you held so much power over him, but in the same instance, he felt at peace, like a weight he had dragged around for decades was finally lifted off his shoulders. I love you, rang as bright as the city lights on Coruscant and as clear as a Nabooian waterfall. I love you.

“I love you, too.” He heard your voice in a soft whisper, swelled up with emotion as you took in everything. Chills erupted down his spine; he couldn't quite tell if it was from the inky blanket being tugged across the sky as dusk descended into nightfall, or if it was the four word phrase that left your lips.

—

“I cannot live without you,” Obi-Wan let out a shaky exhale, breath fanning across your face just slightly, your foreheads making contact in the lightest movements. You felt dizzy, in a dreamlike trance, for you had never been this close to him. You could see every horror he had survived in his glassy blue eyes, notice every perfect imperfection that blemished his skin and made him all the more real. In a moment, his face had become blurred as he closed the distance and finally, finally, his lips were on yours, and you connected in a long awaited, eternally sought after kiss. You could feel his hands, calloused but gentle, cupping your face, as your own fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, the kiss grew more fervent and needy, every rule you had ever lived by crumbling as you melted deeper into his touch.

After a long moment, you broke away, breathless, your face still tantalizingly close to his.

“I will never leave you, Obi-Wan,” your lips parted in a determined vow, a promise you would keep to your dying breath. The Jedi were dead, and yet you never felt more alive.

#obi-wan x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #star wars #angst #probably should edit this #obi-wan needs a hug #and some therapy too #post order 66 #revenge of the sith #prequel trilogy #star wars prequels #one shot

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sunnysidekit · 3 years

Photo

Summary: All is fair in love and war. And boxing, too, apparently.

Pairing: Ben ‘Benny’ Miller x F!Reader (no y/n, reader’s boxing nickname is ‘Nyx’)

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Word count: 2.2k

My masterlist

Everyone likes a good mystery. Don’t even try to deny it; whether you like Sherlock Holmes or if you’re more of an Agatha Christie fan, none of us can really escape the allure of a good conundrum every now and again. Some people can stare in the face of their mystery and not recognize it for quite some time, while others can practically smell them from a mile away. Ben Miller is part of, well, both groups.

Personally, he likes mysteries and surprises and such, but his army days have taught him all of those are a bad thing. A mission can collapse after the smallest detail changes, after all. Sometimes those missions are called off; other than the fact that he can’t do his job when that happens, he’s not really bothered by it. But when something catches him and his team by surprise during a mission and they have to get on with it anyway, things tend to… let’s say, not end well for everyone. And that’s gently put, of course.

Which is why when he’s at home between deployments, he likes his simple habits. They provide joy and adrenaline, and boy does he need both to function well. One of those habits is boxing. He likes it because of its simplicity; you punch your opponent, they punch you back, and so on and so forth until one of you stops. He’s good at it, too. Will always says that’s because he practiced a lot on him when they were younger. Ben says he’s the one with the good genes. Their mother was a fighter, too, after all.

The other reason he likes boxing is because your opponents always try to surprise you with a little mystery move. It’s fun for him to figure out how to respond in a split second, and the rush he gets when he does so successfully is almost unparalleled. Today, though, the only real surprise is the sudden appearance of his very own mystery. And, hey, you might know where this one’s going: it appears in the shape of a woman…

Benny whoops when he kicks open the door to his old high school gym’s changing room, but it sounds a bit less enthusiastic than it did after his last match. He knew he should have listened to Will and gone somewhere, anywhere else than back to Red Feather Lakes, but he’s not about to mention it when he can already imagine the smug grin spreading across his brother’s face.

He won, that’s what counts. And it’s not that bad to have done so after what is sure to be America’s easiest boxing match. That just means he’s good at it. The crowd went just as wild as it usually does, even though there were significantly less attendants than two weeks ago. Somehow, none of the arguments he tells himself really convinces him.

“All right!” Catfish says triumphantly from behind him. “Looks like all that training paid off, didn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Benny trails off as his slightly blurry vision comes back into focus. There’s someone sitting on one of the benches, someone he doesn’t know. It’s a woman; her aura tells him she’s all business, but her clothes tell him she also definitely plays. “Who’re you?”

The woman doesn’t respond immediately; only after half a minute of casually typing away on her phone does she look up and meet his eye. “Name’s Val,” she says, her facial expression one he can’t quite place. “And I’m about to ask you something you won’t be able to ignore.”

It’s important to notice that Benny isn’t particularly patient in his post-fight high, something Frankie knows very well. He becomes a bomb of electric energy that, once set off, won’t stop until every single muscle in his body gives out. And he’s about to be set off.

“Val, is it?” Frankie smiles at the woman, swiftly moving his friend to the showers. “Why don’t we talk while he cools down, hm?”

“You’re not the one I want to ask a question,” she says calmly, not taking her eyes off Benny. “You’re a Delta boy, aren’t you? I can see it in the way you fight. It takes regular boxers years to develop such a sensitive, quick response capability.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And that makes me think that oaf out there’s a long way from even thinking of acquiring your skillset. It’s impressive how easily you had him on the mat.”

“Ma’am, if you want an autograph-” Frankie tries, sensing the ticking time-bomb next to him is about to blow, but Val immediately interjects.

“Which is precisely what caught my eye. These men are no challenge for you anymore, but I think I know someone who could be. Should you accept their invitation, that is.”

“Do I know him?” Benny narrows his eyes at her, trying by god to figure out her angle in all of this. She smirks and closes her eyes a few seconds longer than a normal blink would take; touchy subject, maybe? Or perhaps he’s right and he has seen the guy before.

“You might have seen them around, sure. But I doubt you’d remember them.”

“So, what? I say yes and I’ll fight your friend here next week or something?” Benny snatches his towel from his bag and snaps it against the wall in annoyance.

“I’m afraid my friend’s a little more… complex than that, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, uh, no thanks,” Frankie cuts in, waving his hands as if to dissipate the words in the air. “He doesn’t do illegal fights.”

“He’d have plausible deniability,” Val says with a slight tilt of her head, then turns back to face Benny and hands him a business card. "Anyway, the choice is yours, Mr. Miller, not your friend’s. I don’t need an answer right now. Do take your time to think it over, sleep on it a bit. Once you’re a little more comfortable with the idea, give this number a call. I’ve got a feeling they’d very much like to bruise that pretty face of yours until it looks like a Monet.”

She gets up from the bench and walks out of the changing room without looking back. Benny slips the business card into his jacket pocket, something that catches Frankie’s attention.

“Don’t do it, Ben,” he sighs. “I’m serious. You could get arrested, get your ass thrown in jail. You’ll get kicked out of the army.”

“Stop whining, Fish. I’m not gonna do it anyway.”

Despite explicitly telling Frankie he wouldn’t do it, here he is, standing outside his local gym with his phone in one hand and the curious looking business card in the other. There’s not a lot of info on it, but, hey, what did he expect? That an illegal streetfighter would publish their own name, address and contact info on a bunch of business cards?

There are only two things printed on the grey little card: Nyx, which must be the fighter’s nickname or something, and a phone number. It’s been in his jacket pocket ever since he left his old high school, but it felt like it’s been burning a hole in it the entire time. It’s exactly as Val said it would be. He can’t get her proposition out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries.

She’s right about the competition. They’re no match for him, not the ones here in Red Feather Lakes. And, sure, he could always just sign up for something three towns over, but it wouldn’t matter much. How she found out he’s in the Delta Force is beyond him, though. It’s policy not to broadcast such a position if you want to stay in it. Maybe she has connections in the army…

That’s another thing; his place in the army. It would be gone as soon as he gets caught, and it’s not like he’s got great job prospects waiting for him back home when all he’s done for the past ten years is train to get where he is now. No college degree, no other jobs to list on his resume, no wealthy parents to fall back on… His whole life would go up in smoke.

But it does entice him. He technically does illegal things for his job all the time, and the matches he engages in when he has some down time aren’t really scratching that one particular itch anymore. Let’s face it: one phone call can’t hurt, right? He can still refuse, say no, put his foot down. Maybe even convince this guy to go legit.

He pushes the little green receiver on the screen, then puts his phone to his ear. The dial tone beeps three times before someone picks up. He opens his mouth to say something, but the person on the other side is quicker.

“Ben Miller, I presume?” It’s… a woman. But not Val. “Val told me you’d be giving me a call.”

“And you’re…” he quickly flips over the card just to be sure, “…Nyx, then?”

“Got it in one. I do so hate it when Val forgets to mention my name in the initial interview.”

Benny huffs out a confused laugh. “Interview?”

“You aced it, by the way. Not saying too much is best when talking with my… let’s call her my associate,” the woman says. Her voice is softer than Val’s, and a lot smoother. It sounds like what taking a sip of hot chocolate feels like. “Shall we get on with it and discuss the rules of this little arrangement?”

“I don’t-- rules? I haven’t even given you an answer.”

“Oh, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve got any restraint left,” she chuckles. “You want to tell me you called just to say hello to a total stranger?”

“No, but-” Benny splutters, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Then your answer, even if you haven’t given it to me yet, is as clear as the Pope’s Holy Water. Now then, the rules. In order to keep you in the warm, sunny, light side of the law, I’ll arrange a time and place. All you have to do is show up.”

He can’t help but grin. She’s clearly on top of this whole cloak and dagger operation, that much he can tell. Who she is, though, he can’t say. Not yet. Maybe he’ll recognize her when he sees her. “What about my gear?”

“Do take it with you, please. I’m not a charity, giving away free gear to any John, Charles or Mary.”

“All right,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Anything else?”

“Val will pick you up and get you back home safely, so don’t worry about the whole transport situation.”

“This doesn’t sound very... safe. I mean, you do realize this sounds a lot like kidnapping, right? Or murder, or something like that?”

The woman laughs. It sounds like the melody to a song he knows but has never heard at the same time. It’s the kind of laugh that makes everyone around laugh as well. “Why would I tell you all this and then still proceed with it if my intent was malicious? You can easily call the cops and have my dear Val arrested for whatever crime you think me capable of, and that wouldn’t be very good for my business.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Val, she’ll pick you up next Wednesday at nine.”

Benny kicks a piece of gravel onto the street next to him and swallows away the last of his pride and dignity. “All right, I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Good lord, I can’t believe Val forgot to tell you that, too,” she laughs again, then clears her throat and continues a lot more seriously. “I only dance in the dark. Have a good night, Mr. Miller.”

Usually, waiting takes ages, but not this time. For Benny the rest of the week practically flew by him and before he knows it, it’s already Wednesday. He went training with Frankie just like any other week, only this time he accidentally forgot to mention his fight with Nyx. He told himself that the less people know about his, uh, date, the better, but he also knows Frankie would have immediately pulled the plug.

Val arrives at nine o’clock sharp in the front seat of a cab, which is no surprise. The drive that follows doesn’t take very long; he also isn’t blindfolded or anything like they do in the movies. The car stops in front of an old warehouse in the east side of town, and that’s when Val turns around in her seat and very concisely tells him to get his ass out of her cab himself, since she’s not going to hold open the door for him.

Instead of driving off, Val simply pulls the keys from the ignition and tosses them to him, calling it his ‘insurance policy’. Then she waves her hand as if to tell him to hurry up and get inside, which he promptly does.

Well, that whole dancing in the dark reference seems to have been meant literally; as soon as the warehouse door closes behind him, an inky, suffocating darkness envelopes Benny and makes a shiver run up and down his spine. He takes a few tentative steps, holding out his arms and moving them around to make sure he doesn’t hit anything while he walks.

Suddenly, a voice calls out to him from a bit further into the sole, big room this warehouse seems to consist of.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller. Let’s get swinging, shall we?”

A/N: Hey there, you made it to the end! Thanks for reading through the whole thing, I hope you liked it. If you’ve got any suggestions or spotted a mistake or two, don’t hesitate to tell me so that I might fix it. I hope you’ll stick around for round two!

#ben miller x you #ben miller x y/n #ben miller x reader #benny miller #frankie morales #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fic #garrett hedlund fanfic #my writing

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moonctzeny · 4 years

Text

The Bet

au+trope+prompt game: coffee shop!au Mark + enemies to lovers + is that the best you can do?

pairing: mark lee + fem!reader

other members as background characters: lucas

genre: fluff (only some suggestive stuff)

word count: 3,796

warnings: slight objectification of reader, suggestive stuff, heavy making out, a boner, i guess a stockings kink

summary: “When you took that part time job as a barista at your local café, you only cared about grabbing your check while doing the least work possible. But when your supervisor, Mark Lee, keeps getting praised and winning ‘Employee Of The Month’, you offer a bet, to prove him that he’s no better than you. The outcome? Your relationship changing forever.”

a/n: hbd baby <3

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It started off as just a little part time job.

College life was not easy to cope with financially, and eating instant noodles for a week straight could only save you so much money. So when you saw the ‘Barista Wanted’ sign at the cafe that was just a block away from your house, you didn’t miss your chance for a few extra bucks. And that’s all that job would be for you. Doing the least work possible for the minimum wage you were given, if it wasn’t for him. Mark Lee.

Mark was sweet, honestly. He greeted you with a smile when you first came in and showed you around. He was a bit shy when he awkwardly stated that he was kind of like a supervisor there. But the way that the boss would go on and on about how great he was, every Monday morning, was starting to get annoying. So was his ability to always save your ass whenever you made a mess in front of your boss. So was his picture hanging in the “Employee Of The Month” frame right from across the bar. That kid won that title every.single.month. And no overtimes, sweeping or mopping from your part seemed to change your boss’s mind.

It all began when you and Lucas, another part-time worker whose shift started right after yours, were talking about whether you would make rent this month. Mark was sitting next to you, occupied with organizing some cups by size, but decided to chip in.

“Well”, he sighed “guess we’re just gonna have to eat the rich. Or take that pole dancing class you mentioned, Lucas.”

The taller boy found it funny, letting out his signature giggle and you would too, if Mark’s damn “Employee of the Month” picture wasn’t staring right into your soul, mocking you.

You rolled your eyes. “Not all of us are lucky enough to get that sweet I-love-kissing-the-boss’s-ass bonus every month, Lee”. Lucas whistled at your comment, used to your bickering but still very entertained.

“Careful how you speak to your supervisor, y/n or you’ll never get to be employee of the month”.

“Oh please”, you scoff “having extra keys to the back exit and cleaning the coffee machine twice a week? That’s wayyy too much responsibility”.

Sarcasm was dripping from your voice, but you were only half lying. You didn’t give a flying fuck for the position. You just wanted it because he had it. And that certain “he” was starting to get a little tired from your constant degradation. Mark smirked at you, but anger was evident on his expression.

“You should be thanking me, you know. At least you get to mooch off of my tips”.

Lucas yelled a drawn out “ooohhh” but you could barely hear him. Your eyes were piercing Mark’s, too busy keeping yourself from blurting out every profanity that came to your head in that moment. Instead, you took a deep breath.

“You think you make more tips than me?”, you asked calmly. Cockier than ever, the boy instantly replies with a “I know I do”, never breaking eye contact. This was your chance, you thought. The chance to prove yourself and shut him up for good.

“How about we make a little bet?”

Mark raised his bow-shaped brows, focusing his attention solely on you.

“Let’s put separate tip jars next to the cashing machine for the rest of the week. If I make more, you’ll convince the boss to remove that horrible frame for good”. He followed your eyes to his picture on the wall, and nodded.

“And when I win?”, he asked curiously and you chose to ignore his little play on words. You furrowed your brows, trying to think of a good motivation for him, as if his competitive nature wasn’t enough.

“OH! OH!” Lucas interrupted, “she can go on a date with that creepy friend of yours that always comes to the cafe to see her!”

Mark’s eyes instantly lit up at the idea. He handed out his pinky, looking to seal the deal with you.

“Bet’s on”, he said, with a seriousness that looked foreign on his cute features, and motioned to his pinky with his eyes, urging you to intertwine it with yours.

You sighed and walked away, muttering a “God, you are so lame”, but the next morning you came to work with a jar with your name written all pretty on it.

You didn’t really have a strategy per se. In fact, you had completely forgotten about the bet, too busy preparing orders and running around. You were cleaning up for Lucas to take your place in the shift, when you felt Mark looking down at you from the other side of the counter that usually separated you from the costumers. “May I be of help, sir?”, you asked him mockingly, not bothering to spare him a glance.

“You should wear those white thigh highs. You look cute in them.”

“Huh? What?”, you ask in confusion, still cleaning the surface carefully.

“In your date with Jason”, he explained with a teasing tone in his voice, Jason being his ‘creepy friend’ as Lucas calls him. Why did he have to piss you off right when you were ready to go home?

You continued to ignore him, only muttering a “I’m not going on that date”, when you hear a clinging sound and finally look up at Mark.

“You sure?”

He was holding the two tip jars, swinging them around. To your horror, Mark’s had more than twice the money than yours.

“WHAT??” you let out and immediately regretted it when some costumers looked at you like you were crazy. You continued with a whispered yell, “How the fuck did that happen??”

Mark grinned at you and lifted his shoulders innocently, before walking away. He must have cheated by slipping in coins when you weren’t looking, that sly motherfucker.

That’s it, you decided, on Wednesday you were going to spy on his every move.

After watching him intently for the whole morning, you came to the conclusion that Mark had a way of making everybody like him. Whether it was him memorizing the regulars and their orders, or asking them if they knew some random Will Smith song about Miami, he was always the textbook example of an eager, smiley and pleasant barista. Even you smiled at the sight of him fumbling with the pen when two pretty girls gave him their names to write on the coffee cups. He flashed them a smile and mumbled an apology, and you watched as they cooed at him and left a very generous tip. You were almost convinced by his adorable act, when he turned around and winked your way.

Ugh, you hated Mark Lee.

You decided that making a better connection with the customers was the way to go. You weren’t the type to start a conversation about the weather out of the blue, nor did you know any Will Smith songs, so you decided on drawing a little doodle on the cup next to their names with every order. The younger ones thought it was a nice addition to their snapchat story, the older ones found you cute. And as they came back for a coffee refill, your jar started filling up as well. It wasn’t much but you were getting closer to reaching the 3/4 of Mark’s tips, so you were pretty happy with yourself.

You were drawing a little heart for a latte when you smelled his cologne. You felt his breath pushing away at the hairs that were sticking out from your ponytail at the nape of your neck. You hated how it sent a shiver to your spine, how it made your hands a little shaky and how the heart drawing turned out a little wonky.

Mark was your “enemy” and your supervisor and Mr. Annoyingly Perfect but Mark was also hot. You would never admit it, but you even had a little crush on him when you started working there. You might pull a disgusted face every time Lucas tells you that the solution to your constant bickering was to “just fuck already”, but you wondered whether it was his oblivion to your crush that made your little hatred towards him grow. And you’d be lying if you said that you never stared at his cute ass sticking out of his apron a second too long, or that it didn’t turn you on when he got pissed at the ice getting stuck in the blender.

So now that he was almost pressing against you from behind, closer than ever, you wouldn’t mind at all. That is if he didn’t open his god damn mouth.

“Really?”, he scoffed “Is that the best you can do?”

His tone was so condescending that it made you furious, pressing your nails in the paper cup, and you were surprised that the liquid didn’t spill everywhere. He gave you a victorious smirk from getting that reaction out of you, and you wanted to punch it right off of his face.

Oh, that meant war.

On Thursday morning, you walked in looking the best you’ve ever looked for a morning shift. You had your hair in pigtails, hair bands matching the color of your lowcut dress. Your lengthened the straps of your apron, your cleavage not leaving much to the imagination.

It was ridiculous, you thought, how many tips a push up bra can get you. It only took a couple customers for the word to spread and the horny men to line up at the cafe. You batted your eyelashes at them, the “Good morning, I’m here to serve you, how can I help you sir?”driving them nuts. You had to say it every time, shop’s policy, but now it sounded more suggestive than ever. You were disgusted by their gawking eyes and terrible attempts at flirting, but you had a goal.

And hell were you winning. You weren’t sure if it was your jar that was filling up at an amazing rate or your outfit, but that was the first time you ever saw Mark make a mistake in his orders. You swore you felt his gaze following you around all day, murmuring something to himself every time a customer asked him if the pretty girl could serve them instead.

It was the end of the shift, and you were happily chatting with Lucas as you were cleaning up the counter. He was doing a terrible job at keeping his eyes away from your chest, but when it came to someone as good looking as him, you really didn’t mind the attention. You took your apron off and started folding it neatly when Mark took your wrist and dragged you into the storage room.

He held a bunch of wrinkly paper towels in his hands. You noticed something was written with a pen messily on each of them.

“This is the seventh phone number that a dude has given me today”, he told you as he stared into your eyes, careful not to move his gaze any more south. It was your turn to mess with him.

“Well good for you”, you said with a smile, “Didn’t know you were so popular with men, Mark”

He closed his eyes, trying to control his temper, and shoved the towels towards you.

“They’re for you. They asked me to pass them to you. After the third guy I forgot what their names were but you can figure them out yourself”. You took them from him with a quiet “oh, thanks” and he sighed.

“You can’t come in here looking like that. This is a workplace.”

You looked at him with wide eyes and fake innocence. “Like what? What’s wrong with my outfit?”. His patience was running short.

“Why don’t you ask Lucas” he replied, with a tone that started to piss you off.

“If you can’t control your hormones like you’re some teenage boys, that’s not my prob-“ you start but he cuts you off. You had never seen him act so stern.

“We have a dress code. Maybe the boss can remind you, if you want”.

It was the first time Mark had actually pulled the supervisor card on you and you felt a little hurt by the coldness of his voice. You swear you saw a bit of instant regret in his eyes but you decided to leave the matter alone, and left the storage room after ostentatiously throwing the phone numbers in the bin next to the door.

Friday was the last day of the bet. You didn’t show up with a flashy outfit, because 1) you didn’t want to risk losing your job for a stupid bet and 2) because straight men were annoying and so were their pickup lines that you didn’t want to deal with. You did wear the white thigh highs Mark mentioned though, with a skirt whose length followed the dress code, just to tease him a little bit. You had never worn them in work before, but when you ran across Mark one day on your way home from a girls’ night out, both a little drunk and disoriented, he didn’t hide his admiration towards them.

He noticed right away when you walked in the café this afternoon. Fridays were the only days when you took the later shift instead of the morning one. You hated it because that meant having to work with Mark until closing, and due to his perfectionism you’d always be staying with him overtime, cleaning every inch of the place, and never participating in any Friday parties that your friends hosted.

You were a little worried that things would be awkward between you after your little argument yesterday, but when he pointed at your stockings and asked if you were “dressed up for the date already”, you knew he didn’t keep any hard feelings and neither did you. What you didn’t expect was his jar to be as full as yours, if not more.

You panicked, and took Lucas to the side, making him promise that he would tell you if he had cheated while you were gone or not. He shrugged.

“Sorry, pretty, no cheating. A high school visited the park across the street as a field trip. The girls went crazy over him. Pretty sure they spent all their allowance here”.

At that you dropped your shoulders in defeat and worked your shift with a pout on your face. You wouldn’t take the humiliation of losing the bet, especially after the little stunt you pulled on Thursday. The hours went by agonizingly slow, and the moment you were dreading finally came.

You turned the “Sorry, we’re closed” sign at the glass entrance door, as you were mopping the floor. All the costumers were gone, and your boss had left the keys to you and Mark, asking you to lock up instead as he had ‘an errand to run’. You wished that your coworker would somehow forget about your bet and spare you the embarrassment, but instead, he gave you a devilish side smirk and motioned you to come closer.

He emptied his jar first, and started counting out loud in front of you, insisting that you do it out together so as not to pull any “funny business”.

40 bucks. It wasn’t bad, it was good actually, and you groaned, now feeling more nervous than ever.

Mark on the other hand, relaxed his shoulders and happily started counting your tips this time. His smile started to wear off, though, as you did much better that he thought. You were neck-to-neck, figuratively and almost literally, as your heads nearly bumped together in deep concentration.

“37,38,39,40…41,42,43” he whispered out and you couldn’t believe your eyes.

You won. You actually won. You never had to see that stupid “Employee Of The Month” frame ever again and most importantly, you were finally better than Mark at something.

You let out a high-pitched squeal, jumping up and down excitedly on your spot, strikingly different that the boy next to you, who was frozen in place.

“I woooon” you teased him with a sing-song voice “and you looooost, loserrr”

It was an understatement to say that Mark was fuming.

“It’s not fair!” he yelled and pointed an accusing finger towards you. You rolled your eyes and walked further back, next to the counter with the coffee machines, happily swinging your hips.

“Don’t be a sore loser Mark, I won fair and square”

“I’m not a sore loser!”, he whines, “I was at a disadvantage!”

You raise an eyebrow and turn towards him, to see that he had taken a few steps at your direction. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”

“You’re hot!”, he groans and rubs his hands over his face. “Hell, I would die from a caffeine overdose if it meant seeing you with your little pigtails and that top and that smile, ready to ‘serve me, sir’”

You could feel your ears and cheeks turning on fire and you’d blame it on the flattery, but his horrible high-pitched impression of your voice was what made you too angry to fully process what he said.

You grabbed a syrup bottle from the counter behind you and pointed it towards his face.

“Ugh, Mark! You’re so annoying! Why do you always need to be the best at everything!”

You barged into him, squeezing the bottle over his face. With his quick reflexes he swiftly grabbed your hand, successfully immobilizing you, but you had already managed to get a big, fat line of syrup right across his lips.

In a moment of clarity, you stopped resisting and became aware of the position you and Mark were in. You had moved backwards as a result of your fight, the countertop digging in your lower back. His one hand was grabbing at your lifted arm by the wrist, the other resting on the marbled surface behind you in an effort to detain you. To top it all off, you stared at the mess you made on his lips, coupled by the unreadable look on his eyes.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought. This is your supervisory/n! You know, the guy in charge when the boss is gone? The guy that you basically jumped because of a stupid bet? That you actually won? But will still get you fired?

You were getting ready to move away and profusely apologize to Mark, your eyes frantically moving from his eyes, to his lips, to his “Employee Of The Month” picture from across the room. He, however, stayed still, only releasing your wrist to now place his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Clean this mess”, he demanded, in a tone you would have never expected from Mark, “immediately”

In the seconds that followed his demand, the tension between you two was thicker than the drizzle that still decorated his mouth. He came even closer, your noses only a centimeter apart, his fingers pressing on your face lightly.

You were worried whether you read the room wrong or not, because if you did, your next move would most certainly get you fired.

He could barely hear your whispered “here to serve you” before you finally closed the distance between you.

You pulled his bottom lip between your lips, your tongue shyly sweeping across it, collecting the syrup that was starting to dry into a sugary paste. He was soft like a cloud and tasted like caramel. You repeated the motion for his top lip when you felt him melt into your kiss. The moment was sweet like the taste in your mouth, but it changed as soon as you felt him grab the back of your thighs, lifting you on the top of the counter.

You matched his hunger by sucking on his bottom lip this time, determined to clean him up as best as you could. He moaned your name into the kiss, his fingertips digging in the inside of his favorite thigh highs. Your skirt had well ridden up, allowing him to pinch the fabric of one of them.

“These” he started, his lips now sucking on your neck, “almost cost me my supervisor’s position with all the messing up they made me do”

He let the elastic snap against your thigh, earning a small gasp from you and you decided to tease him a little.

“Is that so huh? Because I’m so hot? With my boobs and my pigtails and my willingness to serve?” you ask with a laugh, and you feel him smile against his deep kiss over your pulse, grabbing your legs to scoot your ass and pull you closer.

“Because you’ve been driving me crazy ever since you got this job. And because you look so fucking sexy when you’re mad”

His boldness made you desperate as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him back up into a passionate kiss. It was sticky and hot and full of tongue, and you felt something poking on the inside of your thigh before a loud noise made you snap and pull away from each other in shock.

You looked at the floor to see a, thankfully not broken, but dismantled blender, that you must have pushed off the counter in the heat of the moment. You stare down at Mark as you both laugh at the situation, his hair messy and lips swollen and you know you definitely mirrored his look.

He cleared his throat. “Uhh, not that I don’t enjoy this, cause I really do, but if we keep at it Lucas is going to be the next Employee Of The Month, and not only is that ridiculous, but we would both basically lose our little bet”

You laughed at his comment and let your feet dangle awkwardly, your cheeks heating at the thought of what might have happened if you two had kept going.

“I’m sorry for being such a bitch about your framed picture” you said with a small voice, avoiding his gaze “you don’t have to take it down”

He smiled at your attempt at peace as he picked up the blender pieces and skillfully riveted them in place. Your eyes suddenly widened before adding, “I will NOT go on a date with your creepy friend though”

Mark giggled at that and shook his head before returning his eyes back at you. His cheeks were flushed a crimson red, deep in thought.

“How about me?” he blurted, “I mean, how about going on a date with me instead?”

You nodded your head, reaching a hand out to fix the messy locks out of his eyes.

“Yes. I think I’d love that”

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