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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

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Let Chaos Reign

Chapter 3- Don’t Provoke The Bear

Summary: After getting your shit rocked by the Avengers, you now wake up in a strange new place even more pissed off then you already were. Also that one pretty looking dark haired guy won’t leave you alone.

Warning: reader being chaotic, Bucky trying his best

Masterlist - Chapter 2

Eyes still closed you can feel a soft pressure holding you up, slowly parting your eyelids, you’re soon greeted by the sight of bright lights circling you overhead, though they remain unmoving. On further inspection, once you force yourself into a seated position, you take notice that you’re in some kind of flat spherical glass holding cell.

Blinking groggily, you look down to find your clothes are all still on your body, suddenly a pang of fear hits you at the thought of your mothers necklace. Reaching for it, you’re relieved to feel it’s still with you. Thanking whoever will listen for that bit of good fortune in this otherwise adverse predicament.

Shifting your gaze back to the current situation of the room, you’re able to see around to some sort of large cavernous lab area with a multitude of that armored man from earlier, though you can tell there is no vital life that stirs within them. Guards maybe? Decoys? You have no idea.

Suddenly your eyes catch movement from the left door, a dark skinned man in black clothing and a single patch over his left eye appears. “Good morning. I’m Director Fury.” He smiles with a friendly nod, arms clasped behind his back while he walks over to you, “Or should I say afternoon?”

Getting off the elevated bed, you wander towards the thick glass keeping you from him, “Where am I?”

Fury nods, “Better question you should be asking is how long you’ve been out for, cause damn, you can sleep.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He chuckles knowingly, “I almost couldn’t believe it myself when the team told me. But wow, holding back both Vision and Wanda for as long as you did. I’m thoroughly impressed.” He boasts for you, genuinely fascinated by your daring feat.

Right, those two.

You frown, gaze hard set and intimidating, “Where the fuck am I?”

“Well for one, you’ve been out for a whole 15 hours since they found you unconscious but alive after getting blasted by Vision and Wanda. Weren’t sure if you were gonna make it, seems the universe has yet to take you out.”

Pursing your lips together in irritation, you glare through the glass at him, “Well I’m not exactly from here so....doesn’t matter. Tell me what this place is and where the fuck I am!”

He holds up his hands, “Alright no need to get heated.” Before clasping them behind his back as he begins pacing slowly back and forth in front of you, “You’ve created quit the stir since arriving in Ireland. My intelligence first received a message indicating a storm greater then a category four hurricane, which by our standards is pretty damn massive. Soon a fun little video of you throwing some busses around like rag dolls peaked my interest. And give or take a couple days, here you are.”

Giving him a deadpanned stare, you cross your arms, “The mystery of the century. Where am I?”

“Alright fine I won’t leave you in suspense, you’re in New York State. In a very secure and safe facility home to the Avengers. Nice place huh?” He smiles, dark eyes looking elsewhere as he gives a little once over of the room.

“I’m in a cell.”

“Yes. But it’s a clean cell.”

Suddenly you slam your left fist against the thick glass causing him to flinch, “You have no right to hold me here! Release me. Now.” You growl darkly, golden irises appearing to almost glow with your building vexation.

“Can’t do that.”

“Alright then, if that’s how it’s going to be. Then I’ll do it myself.”

A second later he’s genuinely startled as you cock your arm back before slamming it into the clear thick glass. With the power of bending the material and your people’s strength, the glass cracks into a fist sized area. Satisfied with this, you do it again and again before a voice startles you.

[Miss, please refrain from breaking that. Mr. Stark has requested that you stop immediately.]

“Agreed.” Says Fury as he hustles over to the far wall, bringing his arm up to his mouth, he speaks but you can’t tell what he’s saying. What nonsense is he even doing?

Ignoring both of them, you punch the glass a fourth time before the voice interrupts again. [Miss. Please suspend your advances. Mr. Stark is on his way.]

Halting your fist from punching a fifth time, you take a step back and bring yourself to the center. Positioning yourself in a fighters stance, legs slightly bent, arms held about 90 degrees; you thrust them forward causing the metal contraption to creak and whine in protest.

Holding your arms close to your body now, you make two tight fists before violently punching at the air; the metal holding in the glass slams forcefully against the far wall. Destroying a couple of those stoic armored sentinels in the process.

“What the fuck?!” Yelps Fury in surprise as he falls to the floor from the force of the impact, “Hey! You better stay right the fuck over there!” He warns while cowering in the corner, nothing to really threaten you with but his voice. That is until he pulls out a stunted black gun, like the ones you have seen on the Norwegian police. You ignore his threats anyways.

Taking your first steps out of the desolated cell feels almost euphoric, your body embraces how strong and dangerous you feel among this place and what has presented itself to you within her walls. A man and his words, a disembodied voice telling you to stop fighting your way to freedom. Ridiculous, they have no idea who you are.

You take a single step left when the man, Fury, shouts loudly, “Stay right there!” Your eyes find the gun held tightly within his grasp, “I will shoot!”

You don’t care for this shallow warning, there are things in this universe more important then a mortal mans fearful intimidation. Opening up your palm, the gun flies out of his hands while he gasps with a start, eyes wide and panicked as you turn the short nosed barrel towards him. Closing your fist, the gun combusts to nothing more then destroyed metal and hard plastic as it clatters to the floor.

He watches in disbelief as you then turn to your left before taking the first door that reads exit above it; you wander past a long hallway until you come across a door leading to a long flight of stairs to some floor with a sign reading - Parking Area - the door is obviously closed.

This is too easy, you think suspiciously, somethings not right.

Opening up the door, you’re greeted by a large cavernous glass and metal room holding a large black aircraft on the far end, a couple more vehicles parked in various areas spread about the place. And not a soul in sight.

Hustling along into the room, you’re able to reach the door on the other side, opening it, you cautiously stick your head out. Ahead of you is a large green yard stretching all the way back to a tree line with trees placed neatly along a road leading up to the facilities main entrance area.

To your far left is a large river, but still, you have no idea where New York is. This is all unfamiliar territory to you, so finding the Ancient One is going to be a tough fucking job.

Not seeing anyone, you take your first couple steps into the open. Soon you’ve made it halfway across the grass headed for the tree line before the sound of gravel crunching causes you to pause and turn around to face the intruder.

So close. The woods are right there.

Clenching your fists, you keep a defensive stance as you stare him down, this man is undoubtedly familiar. He’s dressed in boots, jeans, a pair of cloves for some reason, and a faded grey t-shirt that’s mostly covered by his forest green jacket, while his long dark hair is washed and sits handsomely around his face. Blue eyes staring at you apprehensively, “We’re not here to harm you.” Cautiously says the man in a soft tone of voice, hoping not to provoke you again.

“Then why was I just locked in a cell?”

He pauses for a moment, “Uh, okay, yeah that looks bad.”

“Precisely.

You turn to leave, yet his voice makes you stay, “You don’t have to be on your own you know. I don’t know what you’re looking for, or who....but doing it alone will only take longer. We could help you, if you want.” He suggests with the tiniest hint of a smile. You don’t trust him.

You look towards the lake before finding his gaze yet again, your golden eyes admittedly sadder as you softly answer him, “No one can help me.”

He takes a step forward, face softening, “I felt the same way once. Alone and confused, not sure where to go, no one to trust. Believe me, it sucked......so, I’m just hoping you’ll listen. That’s it.”

“Well, I don’t particularly like any of you. And so far you’ve all gotten in my way and fought me....I have no reason to trust a thing you say.”

He purses his lips together and nods, you’ve got him there, but nonetheless he takes another step forward, “Sorry about that.” He mutters while rubbing the back of his neck, “Uh, let me try and start over....I’m Bucky. And I am definitely not here to fight you. Promise.”

Eyeing him up suspiciously, you take a step back, “Y/N Lavpranthus..of Vanaheim.” You finally reveal, albeit with a smidge of apprehension, however you are not one to hold back your own name if someone is to speak freely theirs.

Bucky nods, incredibly grateful for your calm demeanor for the moment and this first bout of information given willingly by you, though he has not a single clue where Vanaheim is, this is progress. Good progress; perhaps the team was right to send him out first as their guinea pig against the big bad wolf.

Stupid in retrospect, but so far it’s appeared an effective strategy instead of Tony’s idea which was to have Vision and Wanda knock you out again. Not an efficient way to make friends who can throw busses around like its nothing but a bag of grapes...and all without even touching them.

Bucky reveals the flash of a smile as you slowly calm your once defensive stance, though you’re still wary of his true intentions, “Y/N.” Repeats Bucky with a genuine grin as he tests out your name on his tongue, “Never heard that one before, it’s beautiful.

Taken aback by his kindness and sincere compliment to your name, you finally let your guard down, “My mother gave that to me, it was her sisters name, though she died before I met her. Guess it doesn’t matter now...” He frowns as you share a dismal look with the ground, remembering the events that brought you here in the first place.

Family.

Soon your anger rises once more as you think of your brother, that conniving piece of shit, “Bucky....I-I can’t stay here. I have to go, you wouldn’t understand. And I don’t want you to be involved....fuck....he probably already has scouts hunting for me.”

Bucky’s brows furrow in confusion, who would you be talking about he has no idea, “Y/N, no one could hurt you here, alright. This place is pretty damn guarded. I mean, we are the Avengers.”

Shaking your head you take a step backwards, “No, none of you understand how dangerous he is, I’m lucky he didn’t kill me when he had the chance.”

“Who tried to kill you?”

Finding his worried gaze once more, you back closer towards the woods, a knowingly loathsome look crossing your features as you frown, “My brother.” And with that do you make a swift exit into the trees, out of sight in an instant.

Bucky takes a hasty step forward before looking back at the base where all of the Avengers are watching from the windows, they collectively make a go-get-her motion with their hands, indicating that Y/N is now his problem.

Fantastic, he thinks sarcastically, half the team can fly and I’m going after a demigod with family problems.

——

Jumping over fallen trees and ragged roots alike, you’re swifter then a young leopard under the treetops, it’s admittedly incredibly freeing that you almost get lost in the rush of it all as your boots pound against the leafy ground.

Arms pumping you quickly along while you run deeper into the woods, you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so free, though your fun soon comes to an abrupt halt when something hard latches onto both of your legs, instantly you begin falling towards the quickly approaching earth.

With lightening reflexes, your hands are thrusted outwards while you emit a blast of air that saves you from suffering brain damage or a bruised face. The wind aids your body in stabilizing itself once again; now standing with your lower legs tied collectively by some metal clasp, you quickly clap your hands together before focusing your release.

The metal clamps rip apart from off of your legs, freeing you in an instant, “What the fuck was that about?” You mutter to yourself when what would you know it, there’s Bucky standing not even twenty feet from you, an apologetic look on his annoyingly handsome face.

He raises his gloved hands into the air, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to stop you...”

Shaking your head in disappointment, you take a step in his direction, “Bucky, you’re going to really wish you didn’t just do that.”

“Uh.” Is all he’s able to mutter before you send him flying backwards with the force of a small windstorm, you watch in amusement as he breaks some branches on his way to the ground.

“You really don’t like following orders now do you?” He hears you chuckle, “I like that. You’ve got a brave heart I’ll admit.” He watches as you walk into view, a knowing smirk adorning your beautiful otherworldly features, “Courage, it’s good. Even after what I did to you a couple days ago, you still came to speak with me when no one else dared, it’s valiant. You would be a noble warrior in my homeland.”

Bucky could have blushed if not for the stick poking uncomfortably into his back, “Thanks....you seem like...uh....an experienced...woman.” Mutters Bucky, mentally cringing at how unbelievably stupid that just sounded in comparison with how gloriously divine you are.

You snort, “Easy on the eyes and a skilled fighter. Guess conversation is too adept for even the likes of you.”

Bucky shows you a cheeky grin as he jumps to his feet, “Well....uh...you don’t really know me that well yet.”

You laugh at his weak flirting skills, “Too bad I’ve got elsewhere to be. I bet you’re fine company.”

“Right...right, yeah...” Mumbles Bucky with a nod, not really confident he’s gonna be able to sway you completely to his side, he just needs you to come back with him to the base. That’s it, well, in a calmly manner. “Uh...do you even know where you are?”

You open your mouth to speak but pause as you actually have not a single clue where you really are, brows furrowed you answer, “Upstate New York.” Your accent dripping strong with a tinge of uncertainty that greatly annoys you.

Bucky smiles, “Do you know where that is?”

“Well.....not completely but I’m willing to find out, elsewhere. I don’t need help, believe me.”

Bucky throws his hands up, “I believe you. It’s just....I don’t think you’re gonna find your brother without a little guidance here...”

“Don’t patronize me!” You snap angrily, eyes practically glowing gold as you fill with irritation; he’s trying to distract you from your goal, you don’t need any help from anyone. Your brother would never dare ask for such a thing if he was in your place, he probably would have killed this man in the facility yard without a second thought. “You’re all just prying little bastards, I have no business with any of you when my personal quandary is concerned!”

Clearly noticing he’s struck some kind of nerve, and remembering he’s been tasked with gathering as much information about you as possible while striving for the end goal of a truce. Bucky stupidly pressures you further, “Your brother can’t be that terrible, I mean.....what did he do?” Asks Bucky with a casual shrug, a sudden pang of fear flashing through his eyes as you send him a nasty glare.

You don’t even give him a moment to react before his forest green jacket is ablaze from your quick thrust of flame out of your fist, Bucky instantly yelps in surprise before swiftly throwing the burning fabric off of him before he catches fire himself. The jacket falls to a flaming heap on the forest floor, “What the hell?!” Yells Bucky, eyes wide at your incredibly abrupt act of hostility.

Whoosh!

And Bucky’s flat on his back with you right on top of him, kneeling down to meet his startled gaze, his breath hitches as you forcefully grab his stubbled jaw. Your eyes two golden coins of tempered rage, “You have no idea what he has done to me or my realm, you’re lucky I’m not like him or you’d be a burnt corpse adding to the ash of the universe. Pray you never meet him.” Your lip quivers in angered emotion as you lightly squeeze his jaw, “And if we meet again, I assure you someone will die.”

Bucky keeps still as stone as you finally release him from your admittedly powerful grasp, soon you rise to your full height, giving him one last conflicted look before sauntering off into the bushes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he had, chest rising heavily as the adrenaline rush of the fire and you touching him brings him back to reality. He’s on the ground in the woods and you’re absolutely no where to be seen. Soon he jumps to his feet and jogs in your direction until he reaches a gravel road leading back to the Avengers Facility.

You’re gone, just like a phantom in the shadows, gone.

Shaking his head in frustration, Bucky treks back to the base where Steve, Tony, and Natasha are waiting for him outside, all equally curious as to what the hell happened.

“Looks like you were unsuccessful, Barnes.” Quips Tony as Bucky throws him a dirty look.

“She’s...just.....complicated.” Mutters the tired Winter Soldier with a frown as they follow him to the front doors.

——

Bucky slouches comfortably into the back of the lounging rooms giant plush couch, a heating pad seated blissfully against his bruised back from all the times you knocked his ass to the ground today. Sam, Tony, Steve, and Natasha seated in various areas around the lounging room as they give him a break to rest.

Though the peace is soon broken by the sound of Tony’s irritating voice, “You at least get a name to hold against that psycho?”

Bucky throws him an annoyed glance, “She’s not a psycho, and her name is Y/N....I can’t remember her last name. It was something Middle Earth-like I don’t know.”

“Y/N?” Repeats Steve, “That’s different.”

Bucky’s face shifts to concentrated puzzlement, “Yeah, I know....it’s just, she said Y/N of Vanaheim or whatever that means....not sure but she’s definitely not from around here.”

“Really? What drew you to that final conclusion.” Jokes Sam as Bucky mutters an incomprehensible fuck off while the Falcon chuckles.

Natasha’s voice suddenly enters the conversation, “So she’s after her brother?”

Bucky nods, “Yep.”

“And doesn’t appear to know her way around this world either?”

“Yep.”

Natasha hums in thought as Sam speaks, “Damn. I wonder what happened to her before she got dumped into our world...”

Bucky suddenly sits up, “It’s just....she said some people are probably already after her, uh....her brothers guardsman I think?”

Steve takes a step forward, eye brows raised in interest, “Guardsmen?”

Tony nods, “Or are these some type of glorified assassins? I’m just putting this out there, but we really need to get this shit under control before she ends up destroying a building next. Or these, whoever is after her, decide to...oh I don’t know...kill some civilians while they’re at it.”

Bucky’s face shifts to puzzlement, “Dammit. It’s kinda my fault she ran off.” They all give him a varying amount of intrigued expressions as he sighs, “I was just trying to get more info out of her and then I talked about her brother and she set my jacket on fire, before throwing me to the ground and roughly grabbing my face to threaten me, she was really mad too.”

Sam smirks, “Did you enjoy it. Getting manhandled by a pretty lady in the woods?”

“Sam.” Mutters Steve like a disappointed father reprimanding his son.

“Come on Buck, it’s okay, you can tell us. Was it nice?”

Bucky throws him a deadly glare, “Actually it was, I felt very loved and comforted.” He quips, voice dripping in sarcasm before a more thoughtful expression crosses his features, “But she didn’t actually hurt me. I don’t know, she almost looked conflicted to leave....I don’t know it happened so fast.” He mumbles, closing his eyes as he falls back into the comfort of the couch.

“Well as much as I’m enjoying this time together with all of you...” Says Natasha, “We now have a person from an unknown world on the loose with incredible power and the means to use it as she wants. We all know where that can lead us.”

“With more collateral damage then what Ultron gave us.” Adds Tony, “Fortunately this time it won’t be my fault...like that makes a big difference I know. Still, she’s the Avengers newest problem now and we don’t have a damn clue where Miss. Anger Management is.”

“Uh, not exactly.” Starts Bucky as they all turn to look at him. Sam raises an intrigued brow, “What do you mean, not exactly?”

“I, well uh-when she was threatening me, well one of the times she was threatening me...I was able to plant a tracker on the inside of her one pocket. Then she pushed me into the grass and ran off into the woods, I couldn’t keep up even if I tried. She was just gone, but at least I was able to do that. It’s something.”

“Barnes.” Says Tony slowly, “And you’re just telling us this now? When we could have been sending some intelligence or agents or even ourselves out to find her.”

“Sorry but I was recovering from getting beaten up by a beautiful demigod to remember so soon,” Sasses Bucky, “but yeah, that aside, she’s got a tracker on her so all I’d need to do is pull it up on my phone and I’m good to go. Well, as long as she hasn’t found it yet.”

“If it’s just like that, you’re sharing with the rest of the class.” Says Tony while he wanders over to the television mounted upon the wall, “I’m gonna have you link with the tv, I don’t wanna miss a second.”

With a dramatic sigh does the Winter Soldier lean over to grab the thin metal device from off of the coffee table in front of him while Tony flicks on the large tv screen. Once all is set correctly and synched up, the others watch on in curiosity as he scrolls around a bit before finding the app and clicking on it, a couple passwords are sent in and accepted when the screen then shows one option labeled -Unite_1P - between two white bars within a sea of black.

He taps the label and the screen changes to a view of North America resembling that of google maps, but the screen soon shifts to zoom in on a moving pin point in red that’s traveling a couple miles far northeast of the Bronx, where it appears that Y/N happens to be trekking through some forest heading downwards towards that designated part of New York City.

Steve’s eyes trail over the red pin point, “So that’s where Y/N is going?”

“Seems like it. And she hasn’t a damn clue where she’s actually going either.”

Sam keeps his gaze locked onto the map as well, “And what does she want exactly?”

“She said something about finding her brother but that’s honestly it, I tried to help her but it was almost pointless. She’s on her own mission now, and no ones going to get in her way.”

Steve sighs, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What?”

“Y/N. Someone getting in her way, someone just trying to lend a hand and she takes it the wrong way and then...”

“I know man, but I don’t think she’d do that to some innocent person. At least I don’t think she would.” Worries Bucky while everyone takes a moment to process and stare at the screen, red pin point still moving slowly towards New York City. The creak of wood is suddenly heard and all five Avengers turn their heads towards the abrupt noise of Director Fury who’s found himself a spot to stand in the large room.

“Unfortunately we don’t know that. And as the worlds mightiest heroes. It’s your collective duty to always assume the worst. She’s strong, has a goal, and appears able to get it if she tries hard enough. It’s admirable, and yes she’s no Loki...but she is a danger to Earth the less we know about her true intentions and the longer she’s out of our reach.” Explains Fury, “Barnes you’ve done incredibly well. But our apparent need for you has increased as well, so I suggest you smack on a band-aid because we’re going to have a nice civil conversation with her whether she wants it or not.”

“Me?”

“Yes you. You’re the only person she hasn’t tried to send a chunk of metal at, you got close, you got the information. We need you to do it again.”

Steve looks to Fury, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. What if she...”

“I’ll do it.....” They all give Bucky a collective array of questionable facial expressions as he shrugs, “What? I think she’ll listen, maybe, okay I’m not one hundred percent sure if Y/N will hear me out. But I gotta try right? She’s conflicted inside, she’s hurt and alone....if I just have a moment, another moment, I think I could get to her. I think she’ll listen.”

Fury smiles as Steve lowers his gaze, “That’s what I like to hear Mr. Barnes. And don’t none of you worry alright. We’ll be close, at a safer distance of course, but close in case anything goes south. Now the day is still young and we have a demigod to find, I assume you all know what to do.”

Steve looks to the array of assembled heroes, “Suite up..well actually...just Bucky.”

The designated man of the hour rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”

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thirstyforcharacters · 3 years

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Bar Fight (Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x fem bounty hunter! Reader)

Part 1 of 2 of The Bounty Hunter and the Mandalorian

Summary: When a bounty hunter attempts to get her quarry, the ensuing battle with a mysterious stranger takes an unexpected turn.

Notes: Hello! This is meant to be the prequel to Rendezvous, (which you can find here) it's the scene that was briefly described in one of the beginning paragraphs. It can also definitely be read as a standalone, though! I know my updates definitely haven't been as frequent because finals are getting close, but I'm still trying to write because it's one of the only things keeping me sane. Hope you enjoy this Mandalorian story! PS: Thank you for 50 followers 🥰 I know that doesn't sound like much, but I honestly didn’t think that anyone would actually read my content, so thank you for giving me serotonin! (use of she/her pronouns, no y/n)

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! a bar fight (duh)/canon-typical violence, finger-fucking, hand jobs

WC: 2.8 k

Another day, another bounty. That’s what you were thinking to yourself as you flew Freya, your trusty ship, back to Nevarro. Solonoe Carslit apparently owed some money to the Hutts, and of course, being one of the best bounty hunters in the guild, you were able to get the job done. Dragging Solonoe back to Tatooine wasn’t much of a problem once you knocked him unconscious and froze him in carbonite, and the Hutts payed you well, giving you enough money to make a much needed repair to your hyperdrive and get enough fuel to last you for a few weeks. You even splurged on a new pair of boots, since your old ones were torn to shreds. Now, you were headed back to Nevarro; Greef Karga said he would have some more jobs by now.

You touched down on the planet, landing in the open space just outside of town. You strode your way down the streets, and most who were in your way practically leaped to the side as you brushed past. You usually had this effect on people, your stoic expression, dark and practical clothing, and the blaster rifle, which you took off the body of a Stormtrooper, slung across your back, the blasters hanging from your belt, and the knives tucked snugly in their thigh holsters usually intimidated those who weren’t like you. You swiftly entered the cantina in which you knew Karga would be located.

And there he was, sitting at a booth, tucked in the corner of the bar, glancing around for anyone interested. And interested you were.

You sat in front of him, folding your hands on the table and giving him an intense stare.

“Ah, you’re back,” he acknowledged, “I’m sure the Hutts paid you handsomely.”

“You could say that. But I want a little more.”

He chuckled, “Always on the move, you are. You’re lucky, I think I have something for you.”

He took one of the familiar pucks from his pocket and turned it on. A human woman appeared on screen with bright green hair, which was shaved on one side, and eyes to match.

“Isahei Haradde is the name. Apparently, she stole a sizeable sum from a rich Imperial family. Rumor is that she’s hiding out somewhere on Bespin. They’re offering a pretty sizable reward for the one who catches her. In beskar.”

“Beskar?” your eyebrow raised, “that could be enough to buy myself a new blaster. Or make some new armor.”

“Indeed. I’m sure you’re up for it, you’re one of the best we have. Though, I will tell you, there are multiple other bounty hunters gunning for her as well, given the size of the reward,” warned Greef.

“I can handle it,” was your short reply.

Karga wished you good luck as you snatched the puck and jumped up from the table, eager to move to your destination. You made your way back to Freya. You were quite proud of her; she was an old, beat up Republic gunship you found in a scrapyard that you had fixed up yourself. The heavy armor and multiple guns you had rebuilt meant that almost no one could take down your baby. You had gotten her pretty beat up a couple times, but you always made sure the dings and bumps were taken care of.

You punched in the coordinates to Bespin and off you went. You launched into hyperspace and put the ship on autopilot, choosing to focus your attention on the job instead. Bespin was a mining planet, which mostly appeared clean from the outside. But you knew where all of the shady spots were, the seedy bars, the dark alleyways, the mine shafts that were used as hideouts for criminal masterminds, etc. Knowing the type of personnel you usually had to deal with, you figured you’d probably start in one of the bars.

Before long, you had arrived on the planet. You landed on one of the landing strips more on the outskirt of the city so that you could be a bit more inconspicuous, and wandered through the city until you found your destination.

Cloud City Cantina wasn’t exactly a creative name, but the drinks were cheap and there was plenty of activity not meant for the faint of heart. You could already hear some commotion from the inside when you approached the door and peaking inside confirmed your suspicions. Four people were standing by the bar, one you immediately recognized as your quarry. The other three were a Togruta female, Rodian male, and someone dressed head to toe in beskar armor, so you couldn’t tell exactly who he was, but you recognized him as a Mandalorian. Though you couldn’t see his face, he was alluring; while the other two were arguing loudly, he just stood there, observing through his helmet. He was casually leaning against the bar, one of his hands propper up his head, and the other was holding his blaster. The trio were obviously bounty hunters who were “discussing” who was going to get the bounty. You decided that you would decide for them, and you strode over to them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you snarked, clearly not sorry, “but I’ll be taking that bounty.”

Before any of them could react, you swept the Rodian’s legs out from beneath him. He squawked in surprise and the other two lept into action. The Togruta shot at your head, and you managed to duck just in time. During the confusion, Isahei sprang from her seat and made a run for the door, but the Mandalorian launched a whipcord from one of his vambraces (which you didn’t see coming) and it wrapped itself around her, causing her to topple to the ground. The Rodian staggered up from the ground and threw a punch at your head, which you skillfully deflected. You reached behind you and grabbed a beer mug and promptly smashed it over his head. He dropped to the ground once more, definitely at least unconscious. You turned your attention back to the Togruta, who shot at you again. You took out your vibro-knives and ran at her, slicing first at her blaster wielding arm, then at her face. She jumped back, expecting the charge, but you still managed to clip her arm, making her hiss in pain. She brought her elbow down and slammed it into your stomach, making you groan in pain. You slashed back at her in retaliation, and blood soon tinged her thigh from the deep cut you inflicted. She dropped to the ground as well.

You looked around for the Mandalorian, and barely saw him dragging the quarry through the crowd. Without really thinking, you hurled one of your knives at him and it sunk into one of the gaps in his armor, jst above his elbow. He dropped the quarry with a grunt of pain and whipped around while yanking the knife from his arm and throwing it on the floor. You assumed he locked eyes with you, making you smirk triumphantly.

“Couldn’t let you get away with that,” you called to him, stepping through the crowd, which parted for you, “I’d like that reward.”

“Well, you’re not getting it,” came his reply, which was sort of staticky through the helmet.

Even so, the deep timbre of his voice made a strange flipping feeling make itself known in your belly. Being attracted to your competition wasn’t going to help you in this situation, especially seeing as you were now practically face to face.

“Really? I beg to differ.”

“I’m the one who restrained her. That bounty should go to me.”

“Well, I’m the one who started the fight in the first place, and you wouldn’t have been able to restrain her without that. So technically, you couldn’t have done it without me.”

He didn’t say anything after that. You thought that maybe you had gotten to him when he suddenly took his rifle off of his back and swung it at you. You ducked out of the way and took out your own. You were in too close of quarters to be able to shoot at each other, so you used your rifles as bludgeoning weapons while Isahei, your quarry, just layed there.

After a long bout of fighting, it became pretty clear that neither of you was more skilled than the other. You both leaned against the bar, out of breath, staring at each other. You were sure that his stare was meant to be intimidating, if his body language told you anything. But yours was also a bit more of a sensual nature. You couldn’t help it; he was a strong fighter with a sexy voice. You could tell that there was muscle upon muscle underneath his armor, and you were able to see the way his pants hugged his massive thighs. You did your best to be subtle, but that was kind of difficult in such close quarters.

“I saw we just do rock, paper, scissors and call it a night,” you joked.

He chuckled, “I think I have a better idea, especially since you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”

You flushed slightly at being caught, but hoped that the dim lighting of the bar covered it up, “I’m just trying to be intimidating. This usually works.”

“Yeah, because staring at my thighs is extremely intimidating.”

Oh. Well, you couldn’t play it off anymore.

“To be fair, I can’t say I’m entirely innocent in that regard, either.”

Oh. He was attracted to you, too. That was news.

“I see. So what’s this idea of yours?” you questioned.

He leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “Whoever makes the other come first gets the bounty.”

Your eyes widened comically. He was asking for what you had been thinking, and in pretty explicit terms, too.

The soft laugh near your ear sent shivers down your spine, “At a loss for words? Or are you not up for the challenge?”

“No,” you said immediately, “I’m up for it. I like to think I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“I’m sure you are,” he murmured, picking up your knife and tucking it back into your thigh holster, purposefully brushing his fingers along the inside of your thigh, “but so am I.”

The two of you dragged the quarry to a small, unassuming inn and snuck into one of the empty rooms. You left the quarry outside of the room, attaching the cord to a bannister, knowing that it was a very small chance of her escaping. Once you closed the door, the game was afoot. Almost immediately, he pushed you onto the bed; you should’ve known you were fighting a losing battle then, but you were determined to get this quarry. He draped himself on top of you and teasingly pinned your hands above your head.

“That’s cheating,” you snapped, “how am I supposed to get you off if I can’t use my hands?”

“Get creative,” he replied while his hips slowly began to grind into yours.

Though he was playing it cool, you could feel how hard he already was through his pants. Maybe you had a shot at this, as long as he didn’t know that you were already dripping. Every grind of his hips against yours made it more and more difficult to keep the moans that were threatening to spill from your lips at bay, but you managed to keep them in. Until one of his hands travelled from you wrists down your torso to the small strip of skin showing between your now-untucked shirt and your pants. His fingers slipped under the band of your pants and somehow almost immediately found your clit, rubbing vigorously. You couldn’t help but moan softly at the feeling.

“Maker, you’re dripping. Sure you’re gonna last?”

That was enough for you to spring into action. You pulled your wrists out of his one-handed grip and trailed them down his armor-clad torso. You removed the armor that was blocking your path downwards; though it was difficult without his assistance, you managed. You were about to dip your hand under the waistband of his pants when he ran one of his fingers through your slit, making you whimper and temporarily forget what you needed to be doing.

“Shit,” you breathed when his finger pushed into your dripping cunt.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he murmured, “bet you’re gonna cum soon with how wet you are.”

With all of the self-control you could muster, you grabbed his wrist to still his movements and used your other hand to finally reach into his pants and grab his rock-hard member. A soft groan crackled through the helmet, causing you to finally see through his put-together facade.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you crooned, starting to move your hand, desperate for him to cum before you.

You saw him nod jerkily, then he used his free hand to pull your hand from his wrist and begin his movements in earnest.

“It does,” he started, “but I need you to come first.”

“Not a chance,” you said through gritted teeth, twisting your hand around his dick, “that bounty is mine.”

Only moments after you said that did he add another finger, making you clench around him. He curled his fingers inside of you, making a soft “fuck” fall from your lips as you continued to jerk him, brushing your thumb across the tip. He cursed as you brought your thumb, covered in his precome, to your lips and sucked.

“You taste divine,” you whispered, batting your eyelashes enticingly.

“Glad you think so,” he snarked, “Maker, you’re just gushing around me, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it; this was the wettest you had been in a long time. You knew that you weren’t going to last much longer; your legs were trembling and you were barely holding back your orgasm, making you redouble your efforts. You increased your pace, making him moan out in pleasure. Just when you thought that maybe you had him, his thumb rubbed against your clit, and you were done for. Your orgasm washed over you and you whimpered as he fingered you through your high. You tried to continue to jerk him through your orgasm, but you lost your grip on him as the pleasure overtook you.

You came down from your high and you could almost feel him smirking.

“Guess I won.”

“Guess so. You may have won the bounty, but I could just leave you on edge with no way to get back down. Not much of a winner now, are you?” you sassed back, pulling your hand out of his pants.

In a flash, his hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it back in, “Now that would be rude, wouldn’t it?”

“So is taking my bounty.”

You attempted to pull your hands away, but he grasped them both in his own. You knew that he was stronger than you, but you tried to break free anyway.

That is, until you heard him whisper, “Please.”

You looked into where his eyes would be in the helmet and you felt your resolve break. You knew you couldn’t just leave him high and dry, even if he did just take your bounty.

“Okay,” you replied, and he released your hands.

Your hands returned to their former position, wrapped around his dick. Now that you weren’t worried about getting off, you focused your attention on him. His dick was pretty, hard and absolutely leaking. You knew he was close. His body language was tense, like a bowstring that was too tight.

“Cum for me,” you purred, “I can tell how close you are.”

A sound akin from a whimper fell from his lips as one of your hands moved to toy with his balls. It wasn’t long before the bowstring snapped, and the white liquid covered your hands. You wiped off his release on the inn’s sheets, knowing that someone would probably clean it sometime. You both got off of the bed and got yourselves together. You exited the room and the Mandalorian took hold of the quarry. Disappointment began to settle in at your lost bounty, though you tried not to show it on your face.

You must’ve failed though, because he meandered back over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, “You’re a really good fighter. You’ll get another one.”

“Thanks,” you replied softly, though you were still pretty frustrated.

“At least you got a pretty decent orgasm out of it,” he remarked.

A small smile spread across your face at that, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Here, give me your holo,” he requested.

Your quirked up your eyebrow, but handed it over. He punched something in and handed it back to you.

“If you ever want to do something like that again, let me know.”

He dragged the quarry behind him then, and before long, he was out of sight. When you couldn’t see him anymore, you took out your holo and glanced at your contacts.

Mando.

That’s what he had saved himself as. Your small smile grew wider. Perhaps you’d be seeing him again. For now, though, it was time to get your next job.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader smut #din dijarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader smut #star wars #x reader #x reader smut #x reader oneshot

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subbing-for-clones · 3 years

Text

The New Apprentice Part 2

Maul x Sith!Reader

WARNINGS: attempted rape, violence, fluff

Word Count: 2.7k

PREVIOUS NEXT MASTERLIST

Weeks had passed since you had impressed your master with the taming of two Rancor and the killing of one. It was also the last day you had impressed him. Coming to the realization that you were in fact an incredibly gifted force user, you left much to be desired when it came to your saber skills despite being well versed in hand-to-hand combat and the use of other weapons. He hadn't even trained you himself yet, leaving Savage to help you with the basic forms. You were getting better but your master had told you he wouldn't spar with you until you could best his brother.

The two of you clashed your weapons together in the morning chill after your daily strength training. You were faster but he was stronger and had more practice. "You're blocking your mind little one," Savage instructed. "Use your foresight." He was heaving and you swore his eyes were clouding. Maul watched with his hands behind his back. Savage's eyes fluttered and he shook his head growling for a moment. He charged you but before he could collide, you stepped to the side, jumping up and giving him a strong spin kick to the head. Your attack was successful to a point, you impaled your foot on one of his horns.

Not allowing yourself to cry out you took advantage of his stumble and attacked again, kicking him straight in the chest, forcing his body to collapse. He lay still under your foot, the tip of your saber inches from his face. Maul called out to you both.

"Well done. As usual, I have notes but you may congratulate yourself on your first win." Smiling confidently, you sheathed your weapon, removed your foot and extended your hand to the man you had grown close with.

You and Savage became fast friends, you made him laugh hard with your quick wit and rather goofy sense of humor while he reassured you when you were feeling in over your head. He was much kinder than his appearance led most to believe. This fact alone was proof he had lived a very different life than that of his brother. He smiled up at you with pride as he took your hand but that smile disappeared quickly.

His pupils dilated, his breath quickened and a deep groan you hadn't heard before erupted from his chest. Grinding his teeth, the grip on your hand tightened. Maul sensed what was going on and quickly strode over. Before he could reach you Savage pulled you down to him. He rolled so you were beneath him, caged by his massive body. You didn't recognize the eyes that he bore into yours. Usually soft and smooth like honey, now burned like hot twin suns.

Before he could rip away your tunic Maul extended his hand and force pulled you over to him. Savage didn't hesitate to give chase roaring in frustration. Maul defensively wrapped an arm around your waist and twisted his body slightly so he stood between the two of you. He pulled you tightly to him and ignited his weapon to protect you from the monster his brother had become. Maul was fuming, teeth bared and snarling. His grip around you was bruising as if trying to pull you into himself. It was impossible not to smell him, that smokey, woody, sweet musk you had come to secretly favor and be comforted by. Distracted for only a second you snapped out of it. Fear taking over your body again at the sight of Savage who had devolved to an enraged animal.

These were not the men you had come to know and admire. They were wild beasts. Your master murmured aggressively, "Savage... brother... control yourself." Giving him a chance. Ignoring his brother's warning Savage ignited his own weapon and lunged towards you. Blocking it with ease, Maul relinquished his hold around you and pushed you fully behind him keeping himself between you and Savage.

You sat in disbelief at the events that unfolded in front of you. The two brothers raged against one another in a flurry of quick blows and ferocious roars. You ran towards the rancor you had ended up keeping and watched the battle from his back. You rubbed his head to sooth your frightened nerves as you took in the battle. Savage was sloppy but powerful and Maul was calculated, trying not to harm his brother permanently. They clashed until Maul landed a blunt blow with the hilt if his saber to Savage's jaw; knocking him unconscious. He wasted no time and hurriedly loaded his form onto the ship before addressing you.

"Stay with your beast, I will return to you before the day is over. Do not leave this place." He shouted, eyes damn near vibrating out of his head with fury. You nodded and watched as he flew off but not up to space rather, over somewhere.

~~~~~

Maul could feel your heart break from the cockpit as he took flight. It was a pain he swore to himself you wouldn't have to feel as his apprentice. Betrayal. Destruction of trust, a pain he had known time and time again. An unnecessary one. He glared at his brother's unconscious body. It wasn't entirely his fault. He had been thrown head first into a powerful heat cycle. It was however his fault that he couldn't control it long enough to tell him so he could get him away from you. He wouldn't have let you spar him if he had known this was coming. An already physical and intimate act fueled his hormones. He cursed himself for putting you in that kind of harm’s way.

Maul reached his destination. Out of the fog he could see Mother Talzin standing tall, as if awaiting their arrival. He greeted her first as Savage was still unconscious. She extended her arms toward Maul and spoke with an eerie vibrato.

"My son. I see you are in need of some assistance with your brother."

"Yes mother, he is experiencing an unusually brutal cycle and attacked our new companion. May I leave him in your and the sisters’ care."

"But of course. I'm sure there is a sister or two that would accept him in this state."

Nodding, Maul brought out his brother to find one of the pale sisters garbed in red already awaiting them with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"He will be delivered when his time is done." The sister hissed. "I sense this will be a long bout for him." Maul nodded hesitantly and left just as brother was waking up. The last thing he saw was Savage grab the woman before he disappeared.

His brow creased, eager to get back to you and assure himself that you were alright.

When he arrived back at camp in the forest, he took a deep breath and disembarked. If the circumstances were different, he would have smiled at you. Your rancor was laying down with its enormous head on your legs, growling affectionately. With one hand you stroked what you could reach of its mighty jaw. You had pulled the hem of your master's tunic you still wore over your nose inhaling his scent deeply. You had tried to wash his smell out of it but never could, now you were thankful for that small detail. It comforted you in this moment while you told yourself not to cry. Sith don't cry.

Maul approached you treading lightly not knowing how to breech this conversation.

"My dear..."

The rancor lifted his head snarling viciously at your master. He raised his brow as you slowly stood and placed both of your hands on the monster's face giving it an affectionate smooch. "Shh shh it's alright my sweet baby Angel." You cooed and hugged the beast you had hilariously named 'Angel'. Well, you and Savage thought it was funny at the time. You frowned at the memory but your tenderness appeased Angel. He laid his head back down and you turned to face your Master with shame. His heart panged as you wouldn't meet his eye for a moment.

"Please Y/N..." he begged. He didn't use your name often, usually referring to you simply as 'apprentice' or the ever-occasional changing pet names in more casual moments.

"That wasn't your fault. I'm sorry Savage attacked you. The nightsisters are taking care of him." You finally met his gaze with a snap at the sound of that. "You left him with them, after what they did to him?" Maul was surprised you came to his brother's defense.

"I assure you he gave no protest." Not realizing that his brother had confided in you. "And that he would rather be with them than to hurt you."

"I'm not ignorant." You interjected. "I read about Dathomirians on the holo-net shortly after coming here. I know he's in his heat cycle I just didn't... I didn't..."

"Expect it to be so violent?" Maul offered.

"Yeah... is it going to be like that every time? Are you going to get like that?" Your fists clenched and tears gathered on the bottom of your lashes but once again you fought them. Maul could feel your rage burning inside you like a furnace. He seethed at the idea of someone taking you like that. Let alone his own brother's intoxicated attempt.

Maul extended his hand out to you. Remembering how closely he held you. How ruthlessly he defended and protected you, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you closer.

"If you know what the nightsisters did to him then you know he was gruesomely altered against his will... What you witnessed tonight is not how it usually is. It is controllable and I swear on my life I will never harm you in that way. I will separate him from us next time before it takes hold; I promise you. Please believe me."

You looked into your master's eyes not knowing what to make of the care, of the softness he was showing you. He has never been cruel but ever so distant, professional even. He’s being so kind, so tender with you; his eyes screaming desperately for you to believe him.

"I believe you master."

With an audible sigh of relief, he looked down and was reminded how you had wounded your foot during your fight. "I think we should take the rest of the day, get some food in you and get that cleaned."

"That sounds good."

You turned around and limped your way back to a worried Angel, whispering something inaudible to your master's ears. The beast grunted in understanding and gave you a light bump with its head that almost sent you flying but did make you laugh. You watched as he walked off into the forest, disappearing into the fog.

Maul guided you back to the ship with his hand on your lower back and into the fresher. He sat you down and knelt, taking the ankle of your injured foot delicately in his hand and dabbed a warm wet rag on it. You tried your best to stifle the blush but to no avail. He could feel your pulse quicken but didn't sense that it was fear so he ignored it.

"What was it that you said to the beast?"

Trying to lighten the mood you smiled, "His name is Angel." You stated matter-of-factly. "I could tell he was getting hungry so I told him to go hunt. I'm sure he will be back by morning." Maul contemplated what you said while diligently and softly tending your wound.

"I know I asked you to bring me a rancor but... why do you keep it around?"

You thought about your answer for a moment because you felt like it would lead to another question. You decided to dive head first into the conversation.

"He's a good boy. When I found him he was in pain. I didn't understand how but I knew the other one caused him distress so to get them both to follow me back here I told them each I'd kill the other. I lied to one and told the truth to my Angel. I didn't 'force tame' them. I connected with them. Now he feels safe around me. Besides," you continued. "I like his company while I meditate."

Maul thought about what you said and chuckled in a low tone. "For a Sith apprentice you sure do have a soft side. How do you manage that and keep such a strong connection to the darkness?"

He lifted and examined the rest of your exposed leg to check for any other scratches. Your blush slightly deepened. "I'm not sure you want the answer to that question."

"Well, my curiosity was piqued but now I'm intrigued... Go on."

"I've felt the pull of the dark side of the force as long as I can remember and although my rage and fear did fuel it, so did my love, my determination, and in more ways than one, my utter joy." You paused because Maul had stopped and was looking at you. You continued, "as long as I've been able to feel it, it never felt evil or like hatred. It felt like passion. A blinding, all consuming passion and will to live on so I could feel more of it and everything that came with."

That was not an answer that Maul had expected but he thought he understood. It was different for him but he accepted your answer and replied, "so that's why the jedi wouldn't take you and possibly why it's so strong within you. Every emotion you have fuels your power whether it's a positive one or a negative one... fascinating." He continued to wrap your foot while you stayed silent. "I'm not sure I've ever done anything kind."

This statement caused you to burst into laughter. He gave you a confused and inquisitive look. "You do realize that while you say that you're tending my wound despite the fact that I could've done that myself easily. You also... oh I don't know... rescued me from slavery and protected me from Savage during his hormonal rampage. You've been incredibly kind.... at least in my opinion... you make me feel safe master... safer than I have in quite some time..."

Maul silently gulped, fighting the heat that spread across his cheeks. It was the only time in his life he was specifically thankful that his skin was crimson.

Everything you had said to him that night continued to ring in his mind to the point he was tossing and turning. Knowing he wouldn't find sleep he made his way to the common room for a glass of water. That's where he found you, wrapped in his long black hooded cloak asleep in one of the chairs. He stared at you dumb-founded. Here was this beautiful woman, dressed in his tunic, wearing his cloak because he made her feel safe. Fuck he thought. She probably didn't want to sleep above Savage's bed tonight.

He tried to think of something to do. He didn't really want to leave you there on the chair so he made a rash decision. He scooped you up into his arms and carried you to his bedroom. His hearts raced when you buried your face into his neck in your sleep. He laid you down as softly as he could and pulled the thin blanket over you.

He crawled onto his side and lay facing away from you. Unease in his belly, wondering if you'd be angry at his purposeful attempt to be soothing. He closed his eyes and heard your voice in his mind. ‘You saved me... You've been incredibly kind... you make me feel safe.’ He never thought anyone could think like that about him. He rolled over and cautiously snaked his arm around your middle. To his secret delight he felt you wiggle back against him and murmur, "thank you master." Before your slow breathing continued signaling your fast return to sleep.

Perhaps just for tonight he'd let himself enjoy something. He gripped you tighter and buried his face in your hair. Hoping against hope and all reason that somehow the sun wouldn't rise in the morning and he could stay like this as long as possible.

#star wars maul #darth maul #maul x y/n #maul x reader #sith reader #sith apprentice #sith warrior #starwars au #star wars

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Text

A Break- Chapter 5

Oh lord this took too long and ‘bout killed me. I hope my edits are good!

It’s a biggen so it’s all under the cut!

Hope y’all like it! I know it was long over do :/

He dreams of dragons. A swirling blur of purples, reds, and yellows. His mindscape was a rich profusion of colors. Two become sharper standing out in the sea of hues. His father’s dragon emerges from the mass. The great black dragon floats ethereally around him, judging him. But, unlike the years spent under his father's tutelage, all he got were stern looks and cold words of praise. Now, he can feel a warm sense of- pride. Was his father finally proud of him? How? Of what? Next to him, another dragon appears. His mother’s dragon wove around the long form of his father. Black and pearly pink twisting and revolve hypnotically around his body. They radiated peace, and rest. An urge to join them began to overwhelm him. A break sounded nice. He deserved one, didn’t he?

When was the last time he had felt this at peace? There were a few times perhaps in recent memories. A blurry face comes to mind. A sweet smile and a laugh that is so warm and bright. He remembers the feel of soft fingers scratching along his goatee. He felt at peace then, safe and loved. It gives him pause- the urge to slip away waning. His paternal dragon stops its coiling, eyes locking with his partner. He pulls backs, separating from his mate. His mother’s dragon chirps, drifting closer and closer, she tries to touch her son. Her whiskers mere inches from his floating hand. Obsidian claws stop her from touching her eldest. His father’s dragon huffs once in warning, shaking its great head. His mother snaps at the claw, stubborn in her convictions. She wanted her son back, safe within her clutches in the afterlife. Had he not gone through enough? From the clan to his own penances? She had been so close to getting her youngest back years ago. Yet she had been robbed then too.

She wouldn’t be denied twice.

Hanzo watches helplessly as the two beasts argue in a language he does not know. He is torn between a want to be here with them, and the warm thoughts trickling slowly back into his mind. The pearlescent dragon rears back with a cry of anguish, nostrils flaring at whatever the black dragon had said. She makes eye contact with him once more. The dragon’s eyes were the same color as his mother's before she turned from him leaving his line of sight. His father gave him one last look filled with, pride? Before disappearing too. He shouts for them, crying out for his mother. To not be left alone again. But they were silent in the void. Not even in death was he good enough.

He floats again, or lays? He truly cannot tell what axis or plane he was on. But he could still feel. He felt cold and so so tired. Where were his dragons? If his parents were here surely his dragons must be too. He calls for them, but he gets no answer. The seal on his arm was horribly quiet.

He can do nothing but drift now.

He hears things sometimes, a soft sweet voice reading to him. Other times it’s a smooth accented voice walking him through something they were about to do. Hallucinations or reality he couldn’t tell. They get stronger though. Soon he begins to feel a warmth on his face. Like he was basking in the heat of the summer sun. Other times it’s the brush of something cool and wet on his neck and arms. The fingers were too smooth to be human but dexterous like them. They were humming, the tinny and augmented drone familiar. Hanzo knew that melody, he knew that voice, but he just couldn’t place it. Hanzo listens for a while, floating on the melody before it too disappears. They leave him, only an incisive beeping echoing in his head for company.

His dragons come to him after what felt like an eternity. Akuma approaches first, his massive body colliding with Hanzo’s. The archer clings to the great beast burying his face into the fur. Hanzo cares little for the claws puncturing his skin and scratching him as Akuma clicks and coos in delight. Ibuki wraps herself around them both, quiet but vibrating with relief. Hanzo opens his mouth to speak. His throat clicks, dry and inflamed. Something is choking him.

No-rest. We will get you out soon. Out? He stiffens in their warm embrace. He didn't want out. It was nice here, quiet. He didn't feel pain or much of anything in here. He could stay like this... No. Akuma nips his cheek in aggravation. Family, they need you. She needs you-

It comes back to him hard and fast. His last kiss with you before leaving for the terminal. The video before bed. Him whispering goodnight to your sleeping face ending the call before turning in himself. To the security breach and his fight. He needs to get back. If his parents left him here then he should wake up. Why wasn't he waking up? We will protect. His dragons nuzzle him once more before they push away returning to the great beyond, promising to take care of you while he gets stronger. Their determination fuels him to fight, to survive.

He trains his mind to pick up on the noises and touches happening around him while he waits. He picks up the tick of a clock and the sound of waves by his side. Their constant background noise soothing and grounding. Genji comes daily to hum and chat in their native tongue. He spoke of idle, sweet little things. The weather, who was on kitchen duty that evening, the training schedule. He sounded so hopeful every time he visited. Like his big brother was going to wake up at any moment and respond. After Genji came Mei and Ana. The two mostly acted like he was with them and discussed whatever book they were reading while waiting on him. They would come in the evenings and read passages aloud for him. It was a welcomed break from the monotony of silence. Ana came more often than Mei. He could smell the tea she would bring in when she sat by his side reading aloud in Arabic. Ah- her favorite book of poetry. She never translated this book for him, but between her cadences and phrasing, she wove the beauty of the verses nonetheless.

Ana was interrupted today though. Midway through a verse, she stopped. Her tongue stumbling over itself uncharacteristically. Hanzo felt her shift and rise without another word. He recognized Baptiste and Angela's voices talking to her, their voices low and hurried. He hears Ana laugh gently and the door to his room snaps shut. His doctors bustle around him for a moment though he senses another person in the room with them. Odd- unless his brother came back. No, much too quiet to be him. Angie and Baptiste leave quickly, their check-up done, leaving him alone with the new visitor.

"Hey, Hanz." A soft voice brushes his cheek. "How are you today?" Hanzo’s heart hurts. How did- when did you come here. He wanted to be angry, to yell at you for coming to such a dangerous place. He wanted to hunt down whoever found you and throttle them. This was putting you in harm’s way. Yet, at the same time, he wished he could see you. He wished he could tell you how much he missed you and that he was there. Instead, floats in his own subconscious. “I-Angie says that you might hear me. Something about your brain scans?” You squeeze his hand with a light chuckle. You trail off distracting yourself by rubbing soothing patterns in his palm. “If-if you can, know that I know. Not everything, your brother has been so kind to me.” You squeeze his hand, bordering on almost uncomfortable. “But I need to hear the things he said from you. So-so get better soon, please? I miss you.” Now more than ever he wishes he could comfort you. Why hadn't he just swallowed his pride early? This could have been avoided. He hoped at least.

The rest of your visit passes too quickly for his liking. The scant bit of privacy he had with you was filled with your tender voice and gentle touches. He felt your fingers brush along his smooth jaw, stroking it like you did whenever you would lounge in bed sweaty but happy after a lengthy reunion. The kisses you placed on his brow were just as sweet too. You only left after one of the doctors came in to force you out to get dinner and stretch.

You poke at the warm meal Ana had plated for you in the mess hall. The steaming rice and tomato covered lentils sitting comfortably in your stomach. “Eat, dear. Then I think it’s best if you take a nap. When was the last time you slept horizontally?” Ana winks at you over her shoulder stirring a pot filled with browning onions and spices. The elderly medic had lost count of the number of times she had walked in on you sleeping in the chairs in the medical wing.

“I’m fine-really.” You smile rubbing at your sore neck. The hospital chairs here were soft, sure, but not meant for daily sleeping. Ana snorts but doesn’t say anything more on the matter. Instead, she distracts your haggard mind with recipes and tea ideas, sprinkling in little stores of her childhood. You find yourself relaxing more and more; the time between when you wanted to get back to Hanzo’s side and since you sat down for dinner growing longer and longer in between. You yawn widely, failing to cover it with your mouth with your hand. “Shit- sorry.” You flush. The other woman waves it off.

“It’s fine sweetheart. Just means my food and company did its job.” She smiles collecting both of your dishes to place them in the sink. “Come-let me escort you to your room.”

“You really aren’t going to let me go back huh?”

“Not a chance child. He isn’t going anywhere trust me.” She grips the back of your shirt to lead you in the opposite direction of the ICU. You scowl but follow along, dragging your feet along a little in the process.

You had been offered Hanzo’s room when you landed last week. It had been untouched since he had been transferred to the Ilios base. But you couldn’t, it felt almost rude to. He hadn’t consented to any of this. It just felt wrong. His room was what you had always imagined. Clean and tidy, the few items he had well loved and maintained. Some looked pricy, but most were homey little things that must have reminded him of Japan. You ask to stay in a vacant room but still find yourself in his room from time to time, dusting his heavy bookshelf or to vacuum his rug and shake the linens out. You only broke down once in his room, but it was enough for you to never want to go back in there. Not until Hanzo was back living in it. While mopping one day you stumbled across a little box, it was your box, the old thing was filled with letters. The creases in the paper thin and tearing from constantly being opened and reread over and over again. The trinkets you had sent him over the years were worn, but clean. The metal pins and coins shiny and discolored from fingers rubbing them lovingly. You put the box back where you found it and leave. Athena could clean from now on.

Genji and Angie had discussed a lot with you since you took up residence. You were grateful for their updates and check-ins. Baptiste even gave you some reading about what to expect when Hanzo is up and going through physical therapy. He emphasized that the longer he was in the ICU the longer recovery could be. “But don’t stress,” He pats your hand warmly. “That man is as stubborn as an Ox. He’ll bounce back in no time!”

You hope so. From the bits Genji told you after they found him...it had been- disparaging. The road had been rocky, though they wouldn’t disclose all the details to you. The first few weeks were touch and go before Angie finally could sign off on putting him under medically. She spoke as simply as she could but it was still a lot for you. But she was certain he would pull through, and that as soon as he could breathe on his own again she would begin the process of waking him up.

How long that would take no one knew.

You met quite a few interesting characters while you sat vigil by his bedside. Mei is a riot. The plucky young scientist is a delightful conversationalist and had many stories about Hanzo. When she talked about him you could immediately understand why they were friends. Both mathematically minded and sentimental to a fault.

Satya was more pensive when she visited at first, but warmed up to you gradually over talks of your business. Her eyes lit up when you told her your struggles with tin designs. “Let me design some for you. Your tins are wonderfully shaped, but ultimately boring.” She looks down at Hanzo’s resting form. She strokes his head lightly. The stubble growing on his crown had been recently washed. Baptist came in earlier to remove the stitches around his temporal lobe. “I’ll send you some designs tonight.” She nods curtly before leaving you alone again. Over the next few weeks, you gradually met the rest of the agents. Whether it be them coming to say hello and check up on their comrade or in the kitchen, welcoming you to a warm meal, and thousands of questions about how you met.

It wasn’t until the second month of your stay did you meet Hanzo’s dragons. It was late, later than any of the medical staff would advise you to stay up. But, you could only stay away from work for so long and it was finally quiet. You were working by Hanzo’s side, the beeping of his monitor lulling you into a trance while you read over your spreadsheets. At first, you didn’t notice, the rhythmic beeping of his machinery was white noise to you at this point. The first few hitches you missed, too preoccupied with moving numbers and shipments around. The skips steadily grew faster and more erratic, it pulls your focus from your screen. “Hanzo?” You toss your laptop to the side, ready to buzz for help. He doesn’t move, not even a flicker behind his eyelids. Nothing was out of place until you touched him. His arm is warm underneath your fingers. Too warm, near scorching. You yelp in pain falling back at a sudden blinding light that erupts from his tattoo. The room fills with a blaze of blue and gold, the energy of the blast knocks you to the floor. You scream as two massive dragons irrupt from him. They swirl around the tiny space, scleraless eyes scan the room for something.

That something just happened to be you. Two sets of eyes lock with yours. Large fanged jaws open wide, hackles raised. You sit frozen in awe and terror. Were they going to kill you? No-surely not. Genji said they would recognize you-hypothetically. They were an extension of their master's souls. The two lunge for you, three-clawed feet open wide like birds of prey. Squeezing your eyes shut you wait for the impact of scales and teeth.

Two small projectiles collide with you. The force of which knocks the air from you. “Oph!” You wheeze arms wrapping instinctively around the squirming warm creatures clinging to your chest. Two thin dry tongues flick out and tickle your jaw and cheeks.

“I heard a scream! Are you-” Genji burst in looking about frantically, his wakizashi drawn and at the ready. Angie and Baptist barge in behind him, both armed as well. “Oh.” Genji gasps, his sword drops limply to his side. “Aniki.” You look up from your prone position, still dazed and confused by the now tiny blue dragons nestled on your stomach.

“Are you alright?” Genji asks, helping you up back to your feet and righting your upturned chair. His eyes never leave the two spirits in your hands. You nod meekly. “Come, let’s give them room to work.” He takes one last look at his brother and the doctors before leading you out with him. “What happened?” He asks in the hallway eyeing the two blue dragons now wrapped around your upper body. He punches in the code for his room and lets you in.

“I-I don’t know.” The larger of the two dragons chirps as it loses its grip on your sweater. You scoop it up to nuzzle your neck like you would an infant. It coos, wrapping its fluffy tail around your wrist. The slimmer smaller one squawks indignantly, jealous of its partner's attention. It too nuzzles at your neck, draping itself around you like a scarf. “One minute I was balancing my checkbooks, and the next I heard the heart monitor going crazy. Then these two jump me.” You glanze up at Genji. He looks so hopeful. A small sigh of relief escapes him. “Is this good?”

Genji sighs heavily and flops onto his bed. He rubs at the synthetic skin of his chin thoughtfully. He points at the two dragons. “Look at how translucent they are. It takes a lot of energy to summon them to our realm.” You clutch at the squirming reptiles taking a good look at them. The two look at you with large innocent eyes. What he said was true. You could see your hands through their bodies. Their scales were dull and lacked the luster of Genji’s dragon. The larger one’s left antler was chipped and flaking onto the floor. The smaller one was very thin and hollow looking. Genji sighs looking miffed. “My best bet is they told Hanzo you're here and he sent them out to look after you. Which is sweet, but foolish. Summoning when we are mentally or physically weak could kill us if we are not careful.” He drags his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“What happens now?”

He shrugs. “I can’t say. It’s up to him now. But, I believe this is a good sign.” Genji reaches out and scratches behind one of the dragon's ears. “Thank you for coming out to us.” He speaks directly to the dragons, bowing his head low in respect. They preen, clicking and cooing in delight. Genji’s little dragon appears shortly after jumping into the fray of blue and gold. You sit in the cyborg’s cozy room watching Hanzo’s dragons play. For the first time in ages your chest cliches with something other than fear.

It takes another 3 weeks for Hanzo to open his eyes. Of course, he had to do it the one night you decided to sleep in a bed. Your back had been pleading for days for a normal night's rest. It felt like your head had barely hit your pillow before his two dragons woke you. Tiny claws kneading your stomach and chest. They were solid and heavy. Their scales are bright and iridescent. The larger one, Akuma bumps your face hard with his antlers. Huge, arching healthy antlers. He trills at you expectantly.

Genji beats you to the medical ward by seconds. His exhaust vents pumping steam out like a geyser. He speaks quickly, his words fast and agitated. He switches languages rapidly, getting more and more agitated at the blank look the assistant barring the door gives him. He is getting flustered and quickly. His green lights blazed brighter and brighter with agitated arm gestures.

“Genji-Genji!” You rest a gentle hand on his cold shoulder. He rounds on you blindly, eyes electric. The hairs on your arm begins to rise as his dragon begins to awaken just under the surface. His temper cools when he recognizes just who was trying to calm him. You glance over to the trembling medical assistant. “Come- we’ve waited this long. They will get us when it’s safe to.” You assure your friend. Genji nods jerkily, taking your offered hand. He follows you down the hall back to his room. You were both tense and vibrating with nervous energy.

You lead Genji to his room, much like he did weeks ago. Punching in his room code you collapse onto the mountain of pillows he had on the floor for a chair the moment the door closed. You hug his pillows close, trying to quell the butterflies in your stomach “He’s up.” Genji spoke in awe. You crane your neck to look as Genji paces around you. His tone was tight but hopeful. “He’s up- He’s ok.” He smiles down at you, his face the brightest you had ever seen it. He wipes at his eyes and exhales a curse of joy. Dropping down next to you, he sits cross-legged by your side.

“Yes-” It was all you could manage to say. You squeeze his knee in reassurance, your own eyes prickling around the corners. Hot tears threatening to overflow. You didn’t want to admit it to him, to anyone, but you had started to lose hope. How many times had you sat there painstakingly etching each and every angle and blemish on Hanzo’s unconscious face into your memory, just in case it was to be your last time with him? How many nights had you held your breath, eyes locked with the complex monitors and pumps looking for something, hitch in his breath, or a twitch of a finger. Something to tell you he was still there. A wave of guilt washes over you just thinking of how he had woken up alone, how you weren’t there for him.

It’s not like he knew you were here, but it hurt your heart regardless. Doubt hits you. Would he even want you here? He clearly had no intentions of telling about this part of him. He had his crew to support him, and his brother here. “What are you going to say?” Genji asks gently. You feel his warm human hand land on top of yours giving you a comforting squeeze.

“What are you planning to say?” You parrot.

Genji thinks on it for a second, biting the synthetic skin of his lower lip. “Ugh- that’s why I asked you first! I don’t know if I want to punch him for making us all worry, or hug him.”

“I wish I had an answer too.” You confess. “I don’t even know if I should go see him.”

“What!” Genji gasps. “You have to! He’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Genji,” You roll on to your side. “I’m not even supposed to be here.” You nestle into the multicolored pillows rubbing at your eyes wearily. “Maybe it would be best if I went back home. Give him some space to recover. Give whatever this is time.” Your conversation partner goes quiet. His dark eyes, so expressive like his brothers bore into you. It wasn’t judgment. Nothing of the sort. It was understanding and flickers of sympathy.

“Do you want to leave?” He asks. No. Deep down you didn’t, but the high of hearing Hanzo's condition was slowly being replaced with the reality of the situation. The reality of what now? You shrug hiding your face in your arms too ashamed to admit. He lets you stew for a moment. “My brother-” He starts slowly. “My brother is many things, he is prideful and arrogant. Sometimes to the point of being unbearable to deal with. He can be as immovable as a mountain, as you might say bullheaded. ” Genji chuckles. “But, he is incredibly patient, I never noticed it as a child…but now, it’s a trait I envy.” He rubs at his eyes thinking back to the box he found in his brother’s room, the hidden pictures of you and him. He had never seen his brother so relaxed before. He would do anything to keep seeing that smile on his brother’s face. “I guess what I’m trying to say is,” Genji continues. “ just please try to see him once? If you're able to talk to him, do. I can tell you’re special to him, he will do what it takes to make this work.”

You bob your head in understanding, working to swallow around the lump growing in your throat. “I’m scared.” You admit timidly. Genji gives you a gentle pat on the leg.

“It is a scary situation, but trust me when I say you have nothing to fear from Hanzo.”

Genji leaves you at that, you both decided that when they were given that all clear to see Hanzo he should go first. He tries to object, but it was merely a formality. You could see how desperate he was to go. You spend your time waiting in his room, with his dragon Mizuki and her siblings. They could tell you were in distress and tried their hardest to comfort you. Their warm bodies blanket yours, their purring helping drift you off to sleep.

A sharp knock wakes you and your three dragons. They all perk up, ears all twitching towards the door. Akuma growls low in his throat. You open the door to Angie. She beams at you, hand hovering mid-knock. “Ah good! Sorry if you were resting.Hanzo was asking for you.” She steps back to let you out. Mizuki yips shrilly and leaps at the doctor. She catches them gracefully and strokes their head. “You can visit briefly. I am still monitoring him.”

“Right- thank you Angie.” You turn to go.

Angie stops you with a firm hand on your shoulders. “His larynx and trachea are still healing. Talking on his end is strictly forbidden, understand?” You nod. “I’m keeping him for observation for the next week- you are welcome to visit whenever he is feeling up to it.” With that she gives your shoulders a firm clap and lets you go. You walk slowly to the medbay, Hanzo’s dragons quiet and contemplative on your shoulders. For all your anxiety your mind was completely blank. Where would you even start? Knocking softly on the door to Hanzo's private room you enter.

The sigh of relief that escapes is loud in the open space. He turns to watch you from his inclined position on his hospital bed. He looks better. The tubes and wires helping him breathe and heal had been condensed down to just a heart monitor, IV drip, and oxygen. You take in the muted colors of healing bruises on his face and chest. He hardly looked like himself though. His face was clean shaven from surgery and his hair buzz cut short. It wasn’t him, but it didn’t matter. The fire was still there behind his dark eyes. They still screamed strength and perseverance. It was the same look that had attracted you from the start.

Hanzo regards you heavily, his expression gives nothing away as you come to sit by him. His fiery eyes flicker for a moment when he notices the unshed tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. He opens his mouth to speak and winces. Each breath felt like fire in his lungs. Hanzo rubs at his bandaged neck in agony. “You know you’re not allowed to talk.” You chastise him rushing up to grab his water and straw. He waves it away with a frown and sinks back into the thin pillows of his bed. You sit back down, playing with the metal straw between your fingers. “We have a lot to talk about huh?” You ask to break the silence. Hanzo huffs at the understatement of the century. He rubs his sweaty palms across the sheets covering the stumps of his legs. You watch him, he always rubbed at his knees when he was nervous. You reached for his hand not filled with wires and tubes, but stopped. Hanzo grabs your hand before you could pull it back. His large hand covering yours, he was so warm and safe. “I’m sorry.” You can feel yourself falling apart at the seams. A mix of relief and anxiety creating an indescribable feeling in you.

Damn, what were you even apologizing for? Knowing his secret? Learning about the Shimada clan without his consent, especially since he made it clear he had no intentions of telling you himself. Genji hadn’t told you everything, but it was enough to add fuel to the fire of nightly rants with his dragons. You wipe at your face hating how hot your skin felt with tears. Hanzo tugs at your hand to get your attention. “Wha-” He grunts pointing to the side table by the door and mimes writing on his palm. His com and phone sat innocently alongside his gold ribbon and a few get-well cards and dried flowers, all gifted to him by the team. He takes the phone from you eagerly and opens up to his notes app. He writes out something quickly and trusts it at you without hesitation.

I love you, I’m sorry

What little resolve you had left breaks at his admission. You pepper his waxy skin with tear streaked kisses “I love you too- truly.” You whisper into the bandages on his skull. The strong smell of antiseptics not deterring you in the least bit. He catches a stray kiss and turns back to his screen with vigor.

I know I have much to explain, secrets that I’ve held for too long and for no reason. You were never at fault for any of this, I trust you implicitly I have for a while.

Hanzo swallows thickly, thumbs hovering over the keyboard while you read in silence.

I know I have damaged what trust you must have had in me. If this is too much, if you deem this unsalvageable… I cannot blame- I would never blame you for wanting to step back. If you desire a clean break.

“Hanzo-” He wouldn’t-

But, if you are willing to give me a chance- I will give you everything. If you are willing to wait…

He looks to you waiting. You would either stay or leave, it was up to you. You read and reread his words, both of you trying to ignore the uptick on his heart monitor. You click the phone off and put it on the windowsill. Breathing deeply you stare blindly out the window. You don’t answer with words. Truthfully you think you had any that would express what you felt in that moment. Instead, you take his hand in both of yours. You kiss along his knuckles, brushing your lips along each scar you see, both old and new alike. You knew them all by heart. They had been a calendar of sorts, the mending of torn skin and removal of stitches, your anchor. They were what kept you going on the hardest nights, they kept you knowing that the wait was worth it. You couldn’t think of stopping now, fear be damned. “I’ll be here as long as you need.”

The smile that graces his face was well worth the wait.

#Overwatch #hanzo shimada x reader #hanzo shimada #f!reader

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lppsidefics · 3 years

Text

Meihem Fanfic: Ice eyes

Chapter 1: Flurry

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Begrudgingly, Jamison Fawkes followed the big ape off the plane and into the frigid temperatures. Despite being inside the damn base, the snow and ice seemed to linger in every corner of this arctic wasteland. The solid hanger doors gaped open, having allowed years of extreme low temperatures to funnel into the massive room. It was hardly livable inside, as the climate turned the metal building into a freezing icebox.

Junkrat stomped and cursed his way through the hanger, his boots caving into the piled snow blanketing the landing strip. “Ak-choo!” He sneezed, and a string of green oozed from his nose. Rubbing his hands up and down his own arms, he attempted to keep the blood in his veins from icing up into strawberry slush.

“M’fucki’n freeze’n me nuts off Monkey! Wot’s so fuck’n important, that we had ta haul our ass’s all tha way ta the tip-top ah no-where, just ta find some abandoned ol’base that no-one even lives in anymore!?”

“Language, Jamison.” Ana scolded, flinging the long end of her blue scarf over her shoulder. She stepped off the plane right behind the younger junker, stopping to adjust his winter hat for him.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry Nan.” Jamison said, and Ana patted his cheek with her soft glove. He smiled at her sheepishly, but when she turned away to join the team leader further inside the base his grumbly expression returned.

With a deeply aggravated sigh, Winston pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mr Fawkes please, I have already told you. I don’t know the cause of the beacon’s activation…That is what we’re here to find out.” The gorilla scientist pressed a thick finger into a button on the wall, but the hanger gate refused to close.

No power, Winston surmised, and shifted his attention to the hanging bay doors. “Mr Roadhog, could you assist me.”

The large man grunted, before following the ape to the opening, where Winston pointed to the door on the left, and he himself approached the one to the right. With their might’s combined, the hanger doors pinched closed, and the bright sunlight in the room snuffed away.

It wasn’t pitch dark, but the loss of sun did give the crannies a dangerous look to them.

The cold was a little more manageable now, but still Jamison shivered beneath his puffy lime green coat. The collar of his woolen turtle neck was itchy and awful, and he’d been tugging at a wedgie in his snow pants for half an hour, but the slippery fabric just kept escaping through his gloved hands.

This trip had been miserable already, and they had only just arrived. Jamison was stuffy, pouty, and grumbly, as he tromped over the landing strip, his brows twitched in irritation on every step.

Meanwhile Roadhog seemed rather snug, layered in a collection of hand knitted jumpers, and wound in a series of multi-colored scarfs. If he was as cold as Jamison was, the large junker didn’t show it, as his masked expression remained just as calm and possibly empty as usual.

Winston quickly discovered that the lift was frozen shut, but it didn’t have the power to work anyway, so the small team instead climbed a set of iron stairs to the upper floors. Jamison’s metal peg leg slipped on only one of the many frozen steps, as they slowly made their way up to the main part of the base, and once at the top, he gave the lengthy drop below an uneasy peek over the railing.

Their foot falls shuffled down the empty corridor, as cold air streamed against their faces. Junkrat paused when they passed by a dark room, where cryo sleep tubes lined the wall in a row. Any power the chambers would have been drawing from was dead, and he could only assume the occupants were as well.

However, each pod was closed except one, which was eerily left propped open and empty.

Jamison gulped, feeling a different kind of chill creep up his spine, one not of cold but of fear. He didn’t like this place, it was all the things he hated most. Cold, dark, and clean. Just like Dr Ziglers hospital room at HQ, where needles and blood bags were stored in freezers like soda pop.

Noticing that Roadhog had also stopped beside him, Junkrat coughed into his gloved prosthetic hand. “S’noth’n.” He sniffed in a string of winter snot, and hobbled after the elder team members who’d continued ahead of them.

The cold air was swirling around them now, seeming to emanate from the beacon control room itself, as chilling mist wafted from the small sliver of an opening between the automatic doors. Winston tried the buttons on the wall, but it was pointless, so he then pressed his thick hands between the open space, and forced the metal to part wider.

As the metal cracked and shifted, snow flurried into his face, the flakes spiraling around him and showering over the new arrivals like a cloud of tiny cold fairies. When the storm settled, they each made motions to shake the collected snow piles off their shoulders and out of their hair.

Sweeping a puffy coat sleeve over his face, Jamison removed the white bits of ice that had landed on his brows and lashes, before huffing visible breaths of air into his gloves. “S-shouldn’t it be get’n warmer further in?”

“Must be another breach somewhere.” Winston said, before stepping aside to let Ana to get a look inside beacon control room.

She leaned in, scanning over the room with her remaining eye, before stepping across the gap and into the ghostly cold, soon followed by a hesitant Junkrat, then Winston, adjusting his glasses as they fogged instantly upon entering the room, and finally Roadhog who had to squeeze his belly through with a pop.

The lights in this room appeared to be as dead as the rest of the place, and Ana cracked a set of sickly yellow glow sticks, before distributing them to each of the four team members.

It was the arctic, and every room in the base was cold, but the temperature dropped significantly once they opened this room, and there was an ominous silence throughout the entire base, but in this room, there was a faint robotic beep replaying over and over.

“Beep….. Beep….. Beep….. Beep….. Beep…..”

It was like a heart monitor, one of those unfeeling rhythms that put a person on edge, and they followed the sound through the dark before the yellow glow met a reflective blue wall.

Crystallized ice towered up to the ceiling, and their eyes glided upward to it’s top in awe. The icy wall had encased the entire beacon and control panel, but it also spiked out to take half the room as well, cresting the walls with patterns of glittering frost.

“Hoolie-doolie, that’sa icicle…” Junkrat enamored it’s size and gave the glass-like casing a few knocks. “…Solid too. What d’ya think happened here mate?”

“I’m not sure…” Winston furrowed his brows at the console, watching the tiny green light blink teasingly beneath the blue coat. “…But what ever happened, it was after the beacon was activated. The ice cuts off all access to it’s panel. Unless… it was an automated system…” He trailed off, bringing a knuckle to his chin as the ape became lost in thought.

“Here is what I don’t understand…” Ana started, and the room turned their attention to her as she walked up to a light switch, flipping the tiny button up and down a few times before planting the same hand on her hip. “…if there’s no power in the facility, then how is the beacon active at all?”

“Perhaps there is a backup supply unit, only for the beacon.” Winston suggested, but Ana wasn’t convinced as she strutted her way back to the iced over control panel, and with a cocked brow she turned her eagle eye on the ape leader.

“That’s not in the standard blueprints…”

“Someone…” Winston started, before giving his wide shoulders a shrug. “…I presume who ever activated the beacon, must have modified the power input. To keep the signal working, even when all other power had been used in the facility.”

“If that’s so, then where are they?” Ana asked, gesturing to the empty room and assumedly the empty base beyond the four walls. She then pointed a finger at the active green dot beneath the ice. “…Winston, this little blinking light traveled all the way to Overwatch HQ. It brought us here… but why?”

The room fell silent again, except for the nerve rattling beep of the beacon terminal. Winston and Ana were deep in a silent thoughtful moment, while the Junkers stood idly, waiting for instruction. Jamison’s eyes darted back and forth between the senior officers, before giving a glance to the iced up control panel.

“Welp!” Junkrat clapped his gloved hands together loudly, shocking a jump out of everyone, and catching all of their attentions at once. “Won’t know why it’s act’n funny, ‘less ya can get ta tha controls ro’ight? Can’t get’ta tha control panel, ‘less this ice is cleared. Ain’t here for piss’n round! So let’s blow this block in’ta ice-cream!”

With another sigh, Winston pulled his glasses from his face, giving the hight of the glacier another inspection. His eyes following it all the way to the top, before returning to the smaller of the two Junkers. “Mr Fawkes, are you sure you can remove the ice with out damaging the machinery beneath it?”

“A’course, mate! It’ll be ace!” With the spin of a land mine in his metal hand, Junkrat stepped up onto a sheet of ice and held his arms up wide. “This’s tha great Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes yer talk’n bout! I know what I’m do’n!”

Directly after his proclamation, his peg skidded on the ice and the arson’s legs tore into a split. Junkrat howled in pain, and cried for Roadhog to help him up, which the larger junker did, and Winston sighed yet again with his fingers on his temples.

“Winston.” Ana addressed the ape, holding her medical-gun on her shoulder, just in case. “This is what you hired them for… give them time to prove their worth.”

It was true, the team Winston had assembled for this task was strategically thought through, and he’d specifically chose to bring Junkrat for this purpose. He knew they’d be dealing with ice, and the demolitions expert would be useful when facing a blockade such as this one.

Though when asking Jamison to accompany him on this mission, he’d only required the single junker, but Winston was then informed that “Where ever I go, Hog goes!”, and that was the end of the negotiations.

Every team needed a medic, and that was why he assigned Ana. Angela might have been his first choice, but Ana was better at handling the Junkers, the younger one had even grown attached to her, calling her ‘Nan’ like an older relative. Perhaps it was because of their missing biological components that they shared a bond he couldn’t quite grasp.

Or perhaps Ana just views him as an orphan looking for a home… Winston considered this, watching as Junkrat excitedly pressed his thumb into the tiny button of his handy detonator, and the bombs blew with an echoing ripple of sound.

The light from the first explosion cast shadows across the room, and revealed the innards of the glacier for a moment, before the fire died and with it, the light. Just above the beacon’s panel, there was a rather strangely shaped dark spot, hovering within the thick ice wall.

The team leader disregarded it at first, seeing as the icy wall had many strange imperfections, but when Junkrat blasted it again, and again the fire illuminated the shadowed spot, he found it a bit more suspicious. Winston brought his glasses back onto his face and squinted at the dark space, but couldn’t make out it’s proper shape. He stared at it, as Junkrat detonated another bomb, and it’s light revealed the figure of a human body.

Junkrat was positioning another mine just above the panel, when Winston called out to him. “Mr Fawkes, wait a moment…” But the arson was too enraptured with his work to hear the command, and blasted it anyway.

It shook the ice, this time sending cracked bits crumbling from the top, but the person inside still appeared to be intact. Junkrat giggled as he set another mine, but halted when the ape commanded “Jamison! Stop!”, with his palm open in a forceful gesture.

“Alro’ight, crikey. Dan’t have ta shout.”

Ana quickly cracked a hand full of glow sticks at once, shaking them in her fist before holding the bouquet up to the person hidden beneath the ice. “Mei-ling?” She uttered, her brows lifting and her single eye wide in shock.

The dark spot became a girl, pale skinned and soft featured. Her hair was ash brown, her lips blue, and she was dressed for a nap, in fluffy pajamas. She was balled into a fetal position about two feet above the beacon panel, and beside her was some sort of weapon looking device.

“Mei-ling?!” Winston exclaimed, placing his hands on the outside of her ice encasement, as if she’d simply wake at the sound of his voice. His eyes searched her face for life but with a huff, he dropped his fore head against the barrier.

“Who’s it?”

The elder team members turned to Junkrat, and the sorrow in their expressions lingered as they addressed his question. “Mei-ling Zouh…” Winston explained. “…She was a researcher here when it was still an active base. When the first Overwatch devision disbanded, this site was left abandoned and the team was considered dead officially.”

“But…” Ana’s eyes trailed from Mei’s face to the persistent blink of the beacon light on the console below. “…She must have activated the beacon, and then froze herself… Awaiting rescue.”

“A rescue that never came…” Winston finished, and the room fell silent.

“That must have been nearly twenty years ago…”

Junkrat rested his prosthetic hand on his bony hip, and braced a palm against the wall of ice, admiring the sleeping face of the girl within. “Well she’s look’n pretty good for a lady push’n forty.”

“The ice kept her in a stasis.” Ana said, not even batting an eye at the junkers comment, and handed Winston the bouquet of glow sticks, before swinging her bag off her shoulder. It flopped on the floor and she un-zipped it down the middle, digging through it as she spoke. “If she’s still alive in there, she’s going to need medical treatment…”

She started emptying the contents, lining bottles, stacking supplies, and un-raveling a large tarp which was quickly smoothed out onto the tile floor. “…I don’t have the equipment to heal her properly here, but she’s been in the ice this long, it should preserve her until we can get her home.”

“What exactly are you suggesting Ana?” Winston asked, staring at the woman crouched on the floor with a hopeful brow.

“We’ll just have to cut her out…” Ana said plainly, standing again and stretching her back in a rather casual way. “We cut her out, load her onto the transport, and fly her back to HQ where Angela can take over.”

The team all seemed to be turning over the plan in their minds, looking for flaws in it, but the situation was too unusual to have any protocols to think of.

“How’re we ganna cut through this, Nan?” Junkrat asked, gliding his hand across the solid glass-like wall, his fingers dipping into the crevasse he’d created. “Even me bombs didn’t make more than’a crack.”

“This is a science lab, and we are capable…” Ana then spun, taking the glow sticks she’d left with Winston, and looked in to his eyes with her stern one. “…I’m sure we can find a way.”

The gorilla understood without being told. He can find a way. After all, Winston was the team leader, the smart one so to speak, and just like every other member of Overwatch, he had his job to do.

#Meihem

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expvrgction · 2 years

Note

12. Is there a trope you keep falling for regardless of the muse?

Source!

---

(Provided that I am a literal layperson when it comes to tropes (be it character, story etc), but one most prominent trope that is my absolute guilty pleasure while writing is the Trauma Conga Line.

Most, if not all of characters I play on this blog already have gone through enough unfortunate events that not only scar them physically, but emotionally and in worse cases, even mentally. Naming a few instances below under the cut:

B.J had to see himself and his mother be horribly mistreated by his father, had to escape his old family home and go on to become a soldier, lost his first wife and being separated from his son from their relationship, and also lost the few friends he made and his fellow soldiers. War has a way to affect mankind, but aside from occasional bouts of emotional and mental struggles as seen in Machinegames' Wolfenstein series, Blazkowicz has learned a lot about what being a human is, and more than anything, strives to maintain his humanity.

His descendant, the Doom Slayer had just as bad as a father, saw injustices in the very military organization he had pledged to, and had to clean up the mess the UAC made multiple times, one of which resulted into the death of his wife, Hailey Blazkowicz, and eventually having to leave his stepson, Vincent without a father figure to care for him. His pet rabbit Daisy did not get spared from the same fate as Hailey either, and thus it became his mission to thwart Hell wherever they dare touch, for as long as his body still contains his soul.

His great grandda thought he was a damned Tin Man. If anything, William III is even more that. His entire life might be one massive joke at this point, but he'd be damned if the whole of humanity and to an extent, universe, falls to the demons' greedy claws.

Kahann learned the bitter truth about his kind's dominant nature, and became a witness to this through his older brother. How he had failed to stop him from attempting to make everyone in Jekkad immortal, two wars that ensued afterwards, the many betrayals he saw, and losing family, friends and people he had cared about still haunts him to this day. He only has Argent D'nur and by extent, the Wraiths and Argenta (or whatever is left of them following the conclusion of the Both the Demon War and the Argenta Civil War), as well as any contacts he met from farther reaches of the void to watch over and cherish more than ever. Kahann is one of the few Primevals, if not the only Primeval to resist desires that lead others of his kind astray, and is doing well at it.

Having a mountain of responsibilities though can burn him out on stressful days, and it is why he has chosen to allow his people to shape their world. He, however, is still ever fiercely protective of his colony world and will not allow it to be completely devoured by Hell, ironically being that of his old home.

Davoth, despite his ruthlessness and unwillingness to admit, is the most affected. Imagine seeing your people die and wanting them to not have to suffer mortality, only for others to not only disagree with you, but stop you from doing it. Add these with betrayal by some of your own subjects and eventual wars that later spoil Jekkad into what is called Hell today and it is a perfect recipe for his downspiral and descent into madness and evil.)

#You've got mail! (Ask answered)#Finding spaces on a blank paper (Headcanons)#Terror of Tyrants (William Joseph Blazkowicz)#Unchained Predator (Doom Slayer)#Cerulean Heir (Kahann)#Ruler of Hell (Davoth)#ask to tag tw #trauma tw #trauma mention tw

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muchadoaboutbucky · 4 years

Text

Baby, Just Say Yes

Bucky keeps asking you to marry him… but you want him to do something before you say yes.

PAIRING: Bucky x Native American!Reader

WARNINGS: fluff, implied smut

NOTE: Edited by @crispychrissy. Do not save or repost my work without my consent. My prompt was: “I want to do something for her… but what?” / “Well, there’s the usual things: flowers, chocolates, promises you don’t intend to keep…” -Beast and Cogsworth, Beauty and the Beast

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Bucky has no idea how he’s gone two years without marrying you. It’s been sweet and charming, being able to wake up next to you every morning, nestled in soft, warm sheets and dot each other’s cheeks and lips with sticky kisses. And then to make love in the same bed hours later and fall asleep entangled in each other’s arms. It’s been two years of that, living as lovers destined to never grow apart, and you’ve been happy.

But Bucky wants more. He wants rings, a white chiffon dress, a black tux, a pretty bouquet of flowers, a three-tier cake, the words “I do...”

No matter how many times he jokingly hints that he wants to marry you, it always gets brushed aside. He understands why—weddings are expensive and anything could throw a wrench in your plans. Missions, injuries, the nightmares of moving too fast, babymaking, baby raising… ugh, fuck.

He’s been trying for a while, playing with the little jokes: “you know, if we got married we could…” and “the Bahamas look like a good honeymoon destination.” Each time you play along, working into his fantasies only to push them away for the right time.

After six months of playing around proposals, too scared to go for some huge romantic gesture that might pressure you into saying “yes,” Bucky’s stuck. He has no idea what he has to do to get you to marry him, and it’s driving him nuts.

He finds you in the library, curled up on one of the large couches with a cup of coffee and a heavy astronomy book Thor had brought from Asgard that you’ve been infatuated with for weeks. With you being one of the few non-Asgardians able to read the text, Bucky makes sure to praise your intelligence every opportunity he gets, taking pride in being able to get in on the who-has-the-better-girl thing that Thor and Tony always have going on.

“Hey, smarty-pants.” He plops down next to you, leans in to give you a smooch on the cheek, and takes a peek at the symbols etched on delicate paper. “What’s going on?”

“Reading some deep-space astronomy facts.” You turn to face him, smiling wearily. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” Bucky slings his arm across the couch behind you. “I was thinking, if we got married we could have our cake made with all these little symbols on it.”

“That would be so tacky,” you giggle, “they’re pretty, but they don’t belong on a cake, babe.”

Bucky groans and drops his head on your shoulder. “You could design the cake, then?”

“What if I want pie?”

“Who has pie at their wedding?”

You lean forward to set the book on the coffee table. “My aunt did.”

“Blegh.” Bucky buries his face in the crook of your neck and kisses the sensitive spot that always makes you squirm. “Nothin’s better than cake. This bakery in Brooklyn used to make this vanilla spice cake with buttercream. I bet you’d never taste anything better.”

You laugh as he leans forward, pressing you down into the couch and sitting himself on top of you, hips lazily slotted between your thighs. “I don’t know, the cupcakes Wanda made the other night were pretty top notch.”

“Maybe she could make our cake.” Bucky kisses you, long and deep, not stopping until your palms press against his chest. “What do you think?” he continues, “chocolate or vanilla?”

“Why do you want cake so bad?” You giggle when his fingers creep under the hem of your sweater. “I think there’s still some cupcakes left.”

Bucky grumbles. “I want wedding cake. Probably as much as I want you to marry me.”

“Babe—”

“What do I have to do to get you to marry me, honey?” Bucky gazes down at you, pulling the best puppy-eyed expression he can muster. “Please, just tell me.”

You cock an eyebrow, gazing up at him with the mysterious, wicked gleam in your eyes that he loves so much. “I think you’re smart enough to come up with something.”

Bucky frowns. “What?”

“I trust your imagination.” You rub your foot along the side of his thigh.

He lowers his head to bury his lips against the side of your neck. “You’re playing with me.”

You giggle in his ear. “I’m not.”

Lifting his head, Bucky rakes his eyes over your face. There’s the playful tease there, of course, it always is, but there’s something else… desperation, maybe?

“Hmm.” He kisses you again and pulls away. “What kind of surprise d’ya want?”

“Any kind.” You reach for your book and flip back to the page he’d interrupted. “Pizza for dinner tonight okay?”

He nods. “Definitely. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

***

He finds Tony an hour later, busy in the lab with a new piece of technology for Pepper’s suit. Tony barely glances up as Bucky enters, but sets down the tools in his hands.

“Your arm need fixing, again?” Tony casts a quick glance at the black and gold glint of Bucky’s left arm.

“Not this time,” Bucky replies. “I, uh, I need your help.”

Tony reaches out in front of him, swiping through the suspended display hovering over his work table. “Y/N giving you trouble again?”

“A little,” Bucky replies with a nervous chuckle, “I need to get Y/N to marry me.”

Tony chuckles. “She hasn’t said yes yet? You’ve only been asking her for the last… how long has it been?”

“Six months.” Bucky tucks his hands into his pockets. “All I did was ask her what I have to do to get her to marry me, she said to surprise her, so… I want to do something for her… but what?”

Tony pulls a heavy leather glove off his right hand and rummages in a half-finished bag of trail mix. “Well, there’s the usual things. Flowers, chocolates, promises you don’t intend to keep…”

Bucky sighs, shaking his head, and braces his hands on the worktable. “I don’t know what she could want. Not a car, we have one that we barely use… maybe a vacation?”

“Well, the Bahamas are nice,” Tony suggests. “You can always use the jet.”

Bucky bows his head, racking his brain for all the little hints you could have made. Sure, you’ve made hints about wanting a vacation someplace nice, or mentioned staying abroad the next time you went on an international mission… maybe you’re tired of being around people almost twenty-four seven. Maybe you want a place to call your own, where you and Bucky can be as messy and loud and as free as possible…

“A house.” He steps back, flexing his fingers by his sides. “I should build her a house.”

“Then build her a house,” Tony finishes. “Lemme finish this thing for Pepper, then we can talk. I got some old blueprints for safehouses I never finished.”

“Got it.” Bucky steps back as Tony picks up his tools to resume work on the piece of armor in front of him. “D’you mind not telling her? I wanna keep this a surprise.”

“No problem.” Tony waves him off. “See you ‘round, Barnes.”

***

It takes almost two weeks to get everything organized. After a long night of indecisiveness, Bucky settles on plans for a two-bedroom cabin and starts flipping through catalogues of furniture. It becomes a little easier to spread things out and organize when you and Natasha head off on a weekend getaway to the city.

By the time you return, Bucky’s got everything settled. Steve and Sam jump on the bandwagon to help get the place built just a little faster, and Tony works on constructing a false month-long mission, just as an excuse to keep you and the others unaware.

As usual, you wake Bucky early the day he’s supposed to head out, kissing him long and slow as he slowly flickers into consciousness, one hand working on his morning erection until he flips you over and settles inside with long, slow strokes that have your toes curling. After the third alarm goes off, you finally stumble out of bed and into the shower, where you spend more time kissing and touching than actually showering.

“I don’t want you to be gone a whole month.” You perch on the edge of the bed, hair wrapped in a towel, one of Bucky’s henleys shrouding your torso. “Not fair that Tony didn’t ask me to come along.”

Bucky smiles, bending down to kiss your forehead. “Just think ‘bout how much fun we can have when it’s over?”

“You’re only making it worse.”

“Mmm.” Bucky hikes his jeans up around his waist. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

***

It takes the better part of their given month, but the moment the final stone on the front steps is laid into place, Bucky’s heart soars. The house had come along much better and faster than they’d expected it to, and the construction crew had been more than happy to have the help of two superhumans to move heavier materials into place.

With the crew finally cleaned and gone, it’s down to the four men to set up the furniture. It takes the better part of the day, but eventually the empty house is left full of brand new furniture, the greatest piece (in Bucky’s opinion, at least) being the massive bed perched in the bedroom. Tony had graciously contributed a plush foam mattress as a housewarming gift, complete with soft linen sheets and pillows large enough to serve as backrests for the couch.

They head back to the tower after proclaiming the house fit to live in, and Bucky pockets the key to the front door with a smile on his face.

You spring into his arms the minute he steps off the Quinjet, peppering his cheeks with kisses as he cradles you against his body.

“How was your mission?” You cup his face, stroking the growing beard on his cheeks. “You haven’t shaved.”

“Mmm.” Bucky leans in to press a scruffy kiss to your lips. “Lemme take a shower and I’ll tell ya all about it.”

***

The following day is spent mostly in bed. Bucky doesn’t have a care for anything in the world other than reconnecting, and you only leave the privacy of your bedroom to grab snacks from the kitchen. Bucky admires the way your nightshirt falls to cover the tops of your thighs, but he can’t wait for you to not have to dress at all.

When the sun begins to set, Bucky swipes the keys to his personal car from the hanger by the door and slips the little black velvet box into his back pocket. He finds you in the kitchen, bickering with Sam and Steve over the best way to prepare the sauce for spaghetti night.

“Babe.” He winds an arm around your waist and presses his lips to your temple. “Get your shoes on.”

“Why?” You turn in his arms, watching him give Steve and Sam pointed looks. “These guys don’t know how to prep sauce, I’m trying to teach ‘em.”

“I wanna go for a drive.” He pats his metal hand against your ass. “Let’s go.”

You grumble and step into a pair of flip flops, following him obediently down to the garage. The Mercedes Bucky had bought the year before sits in the furthest stall, holding three months’ worth of dust on the silver paint and tinted windows.

“Where are we going?” you ask, sliding into the passenger seat. “You hate driving in the city, are you sure you don’t want me to—”

“Nope.” Bucky lowers himself into the driver’s side and slides the key into the ignition before rummaging in his jacket pocket and handing you the sleep mask he’d snagged from your bedside drawer. “Put this on.”

You giggle, accepting the blindfold and slipping the band over your head. “I wanna know where we’re going.”

“It’s a surprise.” Bucky leans across the console to kiss you and tugs the blindfold the rest of the way down.

“Well, how long do I have to keep this thing on?”

Bucky glances down at the ETA on his phone. “An hour. I’ll let you know when to take it off.”

He waits for the garage door to open and watches traffic almost instantly come to a stop behind the automatic red lights Tony had build in front of the tower. The city’s still wildly lit, and he clenches his fingers on the steering wheel as he turns down the road, heading to the closest highway onramp.

***

He pulls onto the newly paved driveway just over an hour later, heart pounding hard in his chest. The lights in the house are off, and he parks far enough away for you to not hear the sound of the front door opening.

“Stay right here,” he directs, “and no peeking. Got it?”

“Got it.” You duck your head down, overcompensating for the no-peeking rule, and Bucky climbs out of the car, jogs up onto the porch, and unlocks the front door as quietly as he can. The lights flicker on in each room, and he makes his rounds to check for cleanliness before coming back out. You’re still hunched over in the passenger seat, and he opens your door, reaching in to help you out.

“I smell grass,” you remark, “don’t tell me you’re gonna kill me and bury my body out in some field. I deserve my own mausoleum.”

“I would never.” Bucky pecks your cheek and pulls you back, standing far enough away from the house to get a full view. “There we go… on three, you can take your blindfold off.”

You giggle and bounce excitedly. “I’m beyond ready, get to counting.”

“Okay.” Bucky wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to the shell of your ear. “One… two… three.”

Lifting the mask off, you blink several times to let your eyes adjust, and then you let out a little squeak and cover your mouth.

“Is this…” you gasp, fanning your face excitedly, “holy shit, Bucky, is this….”

“Our new house?” He hums and lets you turn in his arms. “Definitely. You really think we went on a month-long mission?”

Tears bloom in your eyes, and you cup his face, stretching up to kiss him. “I can’t believe you built a house, babe.”

“Well, I did,” he replies proudly, reaching into his back pocket. “Laid each stone on that porch myself. And since I got that out of the way…”

You let out a sniffle as he drops to one knee, flipping a little box open to reveal the small silver band nestled inside. “Oh, Bucky…”

“I’ve loved you for the last two years of my life,” he says, “I wanna spend every minute I have left with you as my wife. Will you marry me?”

You nod, and Bucky breathes a sigh of relief, slipping the ring onto your finger and discarding the box on the ground as he rises to scoop you into his arms. “I love you so goddamn much, honey,” he murmurs as you bury your face in his shoulder, your body trembling with sobs. “Wanna go inside?”

You nod excitedly and squeal when Bucky hoists you up, carrying you bridal style up the stairs and over the threshold. He turns, gives one last look at the darkened sky, and kicks the door shut, sealing you alone in a brand new chapter of your perfect little life.

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strikearose · 3 years

Text

Uncovering Passione's Underside (1/1) GIOMIS

What one can learn by listening to what the secretive Passione's staff have to say about their Don... One-shot, GioMis, Post-canon, Humor, G+ You can also read it on ao3 here!

For as long as many Passione members could recall, Agnese Bianchi had always been there, grumbling as she would mop the hall floor and nagging at fellow cleaning employees and ruthless gang members all alike. It didn't matter how long their felonious resumes were, she simply couldn't stand slackers. Years of working within that specific industry had forged her strong character - she was honest, hardworking, and probably a tad too outspoken too about her aversion for mobsters, but she still knew better than to ask silly questions like some other people did.

The housekeeper glared at the man who'd been chatting up the new cleaner (and therefore, preventing her from mopping up the floor as she had explicitly urged her to) for the last half hour. His name was Trado, Trattore, or something that sounded way too much like Tradittore anyway: he was one of the Don's many henchmen. Ever since he had started working there, he had taken that annoying habit of snooping everywhere, making idle chitchat with the household staff during rush hour.

The old maid cleared her throat, grabbed her cleaning cart handles, and pushed it unceremoniously between the pair. "Is that what you call cleaning the reception room? Signore Giovanna wants it sparkling clean: go fix it now or apply for another job already!"

Her harsh tone worked just fine: the young employee, caught red-handed slacking work, gasped in surprise and mumbled a brief apology before leaving in a hurry. The man, however, didn't seem the least concerned about her admonition. He simply smiled and raised his hands in self-defense - and lord if there was a way he could possibly piss her off even more.

Agnese chose to simply disregard his presence and rummaged through her pockets to find the key she needed.

Click.

As it opened, she began to push her cleaning cart over the door sill with some difficulty.

"Need some help?"

Agnese sighed when she realized he was still there. Who the hell was he taking her for?

"I don't. As always, I'm doing just fine on my own."

To her dismay, it seemed that her sharp answer didn't manage to get rid of the gangster. For God's sake, couldn't he just go bother someone else, literally anyone but her? There was nothing Agnese hated more than to have someone watch her every move.

...

Or perhaps slackers.

Slackers who intended on watching her every move.

"So, for how long have you been working there? They say you'll bury us all..."

Agnese rolled her eyes as she finally managed to get her cart through the doorway.

"Long enough to have seen my fair share of slackers come and go..." The cleaning lady truly wished he'd get the memo this time. She had seen it all: louts in suits with fake good manners and scarred faces, but also men that seemed to be way too nice and curious for their own good. To her, that last species was the worst: they were wolves in sheep's clothing.

But of course, Trado (or Trattore or whatever was his name) didn't appreciate the subtlety of her response, and he continued his questioning: "You've been there long enough to have known the former boss, right? The one before Don Giovanna, a real freak apparently... "

Agnese tensed at that: she didn't like where the conversation was heading. She was unfortunately all too familiar with those office gossips. A little over five years ago now, Passione had gone from having no official face, to Giorno Giovanna's gracing every streets' corners. Rumors had it that the young, brilliant, man had brutally murdered the Original Don in the span of a week. Others thought that Giovanna's was his son and that the boss had simply granted himself a well-deserved retirement.

She couldn't care less about what had truly happened: Don Giovanna gave her a monthly salary as well as direct, concrete instructions. And those were the two things that mattered to her. He was good at that, giving clear orders to the people to his service. And it was nicer to serve him than to obey blindly the weird requests she'd receive by mail like before.

"Don't you really have anywhere else to go?", the cleaning lady suddenly turned to the man she had heard approaching but was relieved to see that he had not dared to enter the Don's office. He was looking at her, peering at what she was doing, from the door's threshold. "If you want a piece of advice, stop being so damn noisy."

The gangster laughed and at that, Agnese wished she could just sweep him out of the room.

"Relax! I'm new here, I'm just curious. Don Giovanna's pretty nice, he won't murder us over some harmless chitchat."

The Boss of a criminal organization, a nice man?

It was Agnese's turn to snort.

Yeah, she guessed it was the kind of public image he was adamantly working on And some people seemed to believe it: newspapers were reporting less traffic, a decline in thugs harming citizens' and tourists' safety. The astounding sums of money he was giving to local shelters, hospitals, and public schools were also common knowledge: rumors had it that the city council was even thinking of naming the brand-new biological museum, founded thanks to his many donations, after him.

As a boss, Agnese considered him to be pretty decent - well, as decent as being the Don of a criminal organization could possibly allow him to be considered. After all, he was well-educated enough not to leave clothes and magazines scattered everywhere like the previous boss and some of his most favored underlings did.

But as a man, there was no way she could possibly tell if he was nice. Agnese was just an old, tired cleaning lady: she never pried into the Don's private life even though she guessed there were things that couldn't escape her lack of malicious curiosity. Details such as notes and silly doodles scribbled on his desk, scraps of paper (of extremely dubious content) discarded in the garbage can she needed to empty or sweaters which were at least two sizes too big for him lying on the normally spotless ground of his room...

Sighing, the old maid was about to close the door behind her when she noticed it: the stupid smirk on the gangster's face. The stupid knowing smirk they always had whenever they would bring up the one topic she had no desire to discuss.

How she wished she could just spray him with a window cleaner to wipe it out of his face.

"You know people say 'bout them, right? I'm sure it's complete bullshit but..."

The answer Agnese gave him was the same she would lecture her own underlings with: "One thing I know for sure is that the Underboss always carries his gun on him... And the Don sure doesn't need one to silence people. So just drop it and mind your own business."

With a last sigh, she finally shut the door closed and started her heavy work. However, even though the noisy snoop had left, Agnese felt her mind drift to her first encounter with the Don as she was dusting the ancient bookcase.

It had happened about four years ago, on a late December afternoon - was it because she had arrived too early or because he had stayed in his office later than usual, but the door had been left open so she had loudly pushed her cart inside. The old cleaning lady had instantly understood her mistake - after all, there was little mystery about whom that man was... Who else would dare to enter the big boss's office in his absence?

Golden locks, emerald eyes looking right at her with mild surprise: he obviously had not been expecting her.

"Oh, it's already that time of the day," his chin tilted high and proud, the mafia boss had flatly made that statement.

Not knowing what to say, Agnese had simply nodded and taken a discreet look at the massive clock behind him. 8:17 pm. He was definitely the one behind schedule, not her: she was just on time.

Not that she could say it aloud anyway.

"I didn't know you were still in there, Signore Giovanna," while her head was slightly bowed as a sign of respect, she had not apologized for her intrusion. She had nothing to apologize for: boss or not, he was the one messing with the established schedule. "I'll come back to clean your office later."

Don Giovanna had however soon dismissed her concern with a motion of his hand.

"It's fine, you can start working now. I was about to leave anyway."

The old housemaid nodded and was about to approach the bookcase when she had stopped right on her track, seeing the state of the ancient Victorian carpet. The boss had a rather keen hearing as he almost instantly turned his attention away from his papers to peer at Agnese, understanding what the problem was right away.

The blood hadn't just spattered on the carpet - there were traces of it on the sofa. And on the cushions. As well as on the desk's marble border.

And of course, the Don had to insist on furnishing his office with pristine white furnitures - even the smallest stain could be spotted from miles away.

Well, at least to look at the bright sight, Agnese realized that she wasn't the one who had to take care of the body, to each, his own mess: scrubbing out the carpet was already going to be a real nightmare.

"I apologize for that," the voice of her employer was surprisingly gentle, and it had taken her off guard. "I'll make sure the floor is covered properly next time."

As unbelievable as it might sound, the Don had kept true to his word: she hadn't been able to find a single drop of blood in his office ever since.

And she had even gotten a raise in the following week.

Rumors had it that Don Giovanna was capable of prodigious deeds that a rational mind could not possibly explain: that dazzling smile of his could enchant things and bend them to his will. Some prominent figures from all parts of the world, whose identities shall remain hidden, had apparently come out of his office miraculously cured. But rumors also had it that the reason why his public appearances were becoming more and more scarce was because of a growing sensitivity to daylight.

So Agnese paid very little to no regard to them. Most of the time, like Tradutti had stated, it was indeed complete bullshit.

However, later that night, as she undid her bandages to observe the state of the burn on a forearm (a stupid domestic accident involving a boiling teapot), Agnese was amazed to find her epidermis completely smooth. There was no more blistering or dead skin: her forearm was of a softness that contrasted with the rest of her body:the astronomical amount of tiger balm and aloe vera used could not possibly explain that. So as much of a skeptic as she was, the cleaning lady was forced to admit that it had to be somehow related to her earlier encounter with the Don.

As soon as she had stepped outside his office after tidying it, she had spotted the mafia boss in the hallway. He was accompanied by five or six men dressed in equally expensive suits. Among them was a face quite familiar to her: the city mayor who was making it to the news because of yet another corruption scandal.

The last thing she needed was to get involved in this ugly mess, so the cleaning lady kept her head high and bravely pushed her cart forwards. What she wasn't expecting however was for the Don to stop her.

"Did you injure yourself?"

She had had no choice but to peer down too at her bandage and lie through her teeth: "It's nothing, Signore."

His face showed no emotion, but he took a step towards her and delicately grabbed the injured arm before she could protest. His grip was somehow gentle but tight: there was no way she could escape from it. It was a literal iron fist in a velvet glove.

Agnese could still recall feeling the gazes of the Mayor and his bodyguards on her, they had also stopped walking to stare at her. Her heart rate had momentarily quickened when the Don's hands had brushed over her wound, his emerald eyes never leaving her confused expression. A sharp pain had set her wrist on fire... And then nothing.

She no longer felt a thing - it was as if it had never happened: Don Giovanna had taken a step back and addressed his subordinates, and they all had resumed their walk, any concern about the poor old maid definitely forgotten. The only one who had graced her with something (a strangely amused smile) before leaving was Guido Mista.

The Underboss truly was something. He often reminded Agnese of her own son: way too careless and untidy. His room was a literal nightmare to clean: most of his cashmere sweaters (which he had no problem leaving on the floor for all that mattered) needed to be hand-washed, and he also had the specificity of returning several times a month completely riddled with bullets.

The fact that he was somehow still alive despite his many injuries was as much a real blessing to him that it was a curse for her.

After all, Agnese was the one who had to clean up after him: and there was nothing easier than to track him because with Underboss Mista came blood everywhere.

Everywhere.

From the pavement outside to the sheets of a certain person whose name shall remain unknown.

...

The kitchen timer rang and Agnese was brought back to reality.

She couldn't say for sure if the Don was responsible for this miracle, but she still wished he could have also helped with her rheumatism too.

━━━━━ ༻🌱༺ ━━━━━

Unlike Agnese, Rolfo Giardino was still fairly new at that whole managing-not-to-get-mixed-up-in-mafia-mess-while-working-for-them dilemma. This gardener may have had twenty years of experience, nothing could have possibly prepared him for what was about to come.

The headquarters' gardens themselves were very pleasant - they were spacious and ideally located. Starting from scratch, that is to say from an austere backyard where some pathetic trees were beginning to wither to this authentic example of Giardino all'italiana, adorned with classical sculptures, flowering shrubs, fountains and ornamental parterres, had not been easy at first but Signore Giovanna had agreed to pay the price without thinking twice and the result was worth it.

Now that it was done, now that Rolfo and his team only had to maintain the garden (meaning watering the flowers and cutting the hedges one or two times a week), he guessed the job would be pretty nice if it weren't for all those mobsters who, for some reason he still couldn't gather, enjoyed watching him work. That, as well as those dreadful echoes of gunfire and screams which would shatter from time to time the peaceful atmosphere of the garden.

The rustling of water, the birds' chirping, a loud explosion from within the building... A nice sunny day overall.

Some of his employees were still refusing to work there despite his best attempts to reassure them: for as long as they would stay away from the actual building, it was not like something could happen to them, right? Still, they were places where even Rolfo himself did not like to approach, near the window overlooking what he thought was the Big Boss's office for instance. He had been forced to come close (way too close) to it because of his client's special request to have ivy and white roses gambling along this wall.

He had started working on it on a day when the weather was so mild that the window had apparently been cracked open for once - and the uncanny noises and groans that had escaped through it had scared the gardener to death. He hadn't dared to peer inside to find out what was really happening: the last thing he needed to know was what the Don of Passione's private torture sessions consisted of. Ever since that unfortunate incident, Rolfo had not ventured any closer to the damn white rosebushes. The branches were becoming too long, they were clearly starting to block the path of light, but as long as the Don didn't make any complaint, Rolfo would leave them be.

But on that day, however, the poor gardener saw red as his eyes fell on the figure loitering near that damn window: who was that son of a bitch was stepping on his flower beds!

"Hey you fucking moron: Move! Can't you see you're ruinin' my work?" Rolfo's shout managed to hit the bull's eye. The criminal was startled by it and half a dozen of armed men (probably criminals too) suddenly burst out the building to see what the hell was happening. He sprinted in the direction of the jerk and threw his pair of pruning shears at him. The gardening tool narrowly missed him - it crashed against the window instead (which, thank lord, did not shatter after the impact), but still made him leave. The stern face of Giorno Giovanna soon appeared, his head comically peaking out the building.

The Big Boss frowned when he realized that five of his men were gathered outside, frantically looking for someone, and took a deep breath: "Did one of you just threw a rock at my window?" He sounded confused, and to his credit, that was quite understandable.

Rolfo felt all adrenaline leave him abruptly - he could feel on him the murderous glares of literal murderers, who would have probably murdered him on the spot were it not for the presence of their Big Boss. He had no choice but to come clean: "Uhh, I do believe it was my pruners, Signore. I apologize, I swear they weren't aimed at you. It was for that damn...- uhh, I mean, that employee of yours!"

The Don didn't seem the slightest taken aback by the choice of weapon. He ran a hand through his braided locked and motioned for the others to go.

"You're saying that someone was eavesdropping on me just now?"

Rolfo looked down for a moment before answering: "Uhh, probably? I mean, he was stomping on my rosebushes near your window, that's for sure. They're Blanche Moreau's you know? They took weeks to arrive from France, weeks to finally blossom in Italy's sunlight!"

The mafia boss frowned at that, and Rolfo just knew he understood how valuable these roses were. After all, the Don seemed to be pretty knowledgeable about plants and lots of stuff: rumors had it that they were going to name that new museum after him so...

Signore Giovanna looked behind him and seemed to be addressing someone in the room: "Make sure to find him."

Curiosity overcame his initial reserve: standing on tiptoe, the gardener finally peered at the window to see what was happening inside. The office seemed incredibly spacious and clean: a dark-haired man, behind the desk, was adjusting the position of his cap on his head.

"Kay, I'll climb down the window to catch him faster! The fucker must be hiding somewhere close!," as soon as the man finished speaking, Rolfo couldn't help but react straight away.

"No, you can't do that! You'll ruin the other bushes!"

Both mafiosi looked at him for a moment and the old gardener realized he might have spoken out of turn, but the Don settled the matter for them anyway:

"He's right, I do like these Blanche Moreau's: go around my office Mista. And please, your zipper." That last part had been uttered quietly, but Rolfo had still managed to pick up on it. His devout Catholic mind would probably have been offended by it were it not for the sudden realization which left him quivering.

How on earth was he able to peak so clearly at the window now...?

"That fucking son of a bitch!", at that the mafia boss frowned and looked at him quizzically, but Rolfo couldn't halt the stream of profanities coming out of his mouth. It was too late. "He chopped it off! The whole branch!! It's all gone!"

Rolfo had promised his wife he would never get too close to the mafia, even though those paychecks sure were quite weighty. And yet as he was now, comfortably sitting in a well-made leather seat, a cup of coffee in his hand, he thought that for a first time within the shady building he had tried to avoid entering for so long, things were actually looking pretty normal. A week had passed since the unfortunate roses incident, and he had been surprised to receive after a subsequent sick leave a call from the Don's office. He didn't really have much choice, so he had shown up on time and was now patiently waiting in the lobby.

"Don Giovanna will now receive you."

Rolfo followed without a word the pretty secretary - she too looked way too customarily pretty to be involved in that kind of business. It was only when he passed under the massive arch of the door that he became fully aware of what was happening: the head of the Italian mafia had summoned him here.

As expected, it was the Don's spacious office, the one he had managed to catch a glimpse of through the window free of rose branches. The room appeared to be spotlessly clean - hell, it even smelled like a mixture of disinfectant and fresh lemon. Definitely not what he was expecting it to look like. Oddly enough, the very first thing he noticed was the tarp on the floor: that gaudy blue plastic was seriously clashing with the rest of the pristine white furnishings.

"Good afternoon, Signore Giardino. Is that the man you spotted by my window the other day?," Rolfo met the gaze of the mafia boss who was calmly standing to what soon turned out to be a man in bad shape, feet and fists bound onto the chair.

On the other side of the suspect, nonchalantly propped against the desk, was the gangster who had wanted to hop out the window.

All three of them were looking at the gardener expectantly, and he heard behind him the sound of the door closing. Of course, the pretty secretary couldn't stay.

"I can't say for sure Signore. See, I was so focused on the combat boots trampling my bushes that I didn't pay too much attention to his face..."

He hated the bastard who had wrecked his work, sure, but to rush him to such a tragic fate...

"Cool, then check it out!," the underboss had spoken with a casualness contrasting with the cruelty of the angle in which he twisted the poor man's leg. Rolfo had no choice but to look at the sole of his boot.

...

The fucking bastard.

There were still manure and rose petals stuck to it. And those were no common rose petals - they were large, fluffy and creamy white. They had been violently snatched away from a Blanche Moreau's sepal.

The gardener hardly needed to speak up to convince the mafia boss - the lethal look he was giving the tied-up man was already enough evidence.

Umberto Tradduto's fate had just been sealed.

Rolfo couldn't say what prompted him to look outside, but after that he only overheard bits of the conversation whispered in front of him: what was he was seeing right now was far more chocking anyway:

"I leave it to you for now Mista. I'll dispose of him later."

"Another donation to the museum?"

"Not this time. I think he'll make a fine aphid instead, that way our gardener will be able to settle his score with him."

Rolfo wasn't even pretending to be listening to what was being said anymore. He couldn't believe his eyes. He took a step towards the window and the two mafiosi, deep in their discussion, didn't notice it immediately.

"Keep your evening free, we'll be paying a visit to the mayor tonight. I'm getting tired of the spies he keeps sending here."

"Tonight? Hey, do you know how much it cost me to book the entire restaurant?"

The Don cleared his throat as if suddenly reminded of the other two's presence: "The sooner the better. I'm sure she won't mind. You'll reschedule your date later."

Mista was about to protest, but he fell silent as he realized where the gardener was standing: "Hey man, what the...-"

But Rolfo overstepped his role again to cut him off. His eyes shining with emotion, he turned towards the mighty Giorno Giovanna and addressed him as if he was a true deity.

"How...- How did you...? This is prodigious Signore!"

Behind him, blocking the light from the window, were proudly standing three beautiful unscathed roses branches.

━━━━━ ༻ 🚗 ༺ ━━━━━

Alfredo waked up completely startled as he heard someone bang on his window: dozing off at the wheel was a rookie mistake, he was well aware of that - but still.

"Hey open up!"

The underboss' voice was agitated - something very rare for such an easy-going man, so Alfredo immediately unlocked the doors and got out of the vehicle to assist him. Mista was backing up the big boss, a hand wrapped under his shoulders to help him stand.

The driver shot a panicked look at the small cottage they had just come from: what the hell had just happened in there?

Alfredo glanced at the Don's patent leather shoes - he was dressed as reverently as usual - and then at the underboss' worn-out leather jacket: even though they were clothed as if they were going to very different events, they had asked him to drop them at the same address: the mayor's private country hous. He had followed the itinerary scribbled on the paper an informer had given him a few hours before. It was the driver's special talent: being resourceful. Even without a precise address, he always knew how to bring his customers to the desired place.

His clients never asked him how it worked, and in return, he never made any remark on the state they would return to the car in. Or to question why they seemed so keen to surprise the mayor at such a late hour of the evening.

Alfredo was even willing to give an extra hand if needed, occasionally overstepping his role of a simple driver if the client was likely to be a good tipper.

He opened the passenger door for the mafia boss, but to his great surprise the latter stopped him right there:

"I'm fine. Just open the trunk instead."

Alfredo tensed up but said nothing as he went back to his seat to retrieve his leather gloves.

It was another kind of extra service: helping them to get rid of incriminating clues. Well, it wouldn't be the first body dumped in the back of his precious vehicle, and certainly not the last. As long as they would pay for the subsequential cleanup, he didn't mind.

"How many bottles have you stolen?," The underboss had ushered that question to the boss not discreetly enough, and the driver allowed himself a relieved sigh.

No bodies on the horizon, then?

No scandal of the mayor's disappearance making the headlines on the next day?

Great, he'd be able to go back to bed sooner.

As he passed next to the two mafiosi to open the trunk, Alfredo noticed the two bottles of prestigious champagne that the Don was clutching tightly against his. chest. Oh wow. The underboss, on the other hand, was eyeing Giorno with a bewildered look, as if it had just occurred to him that the mysterious gigantic box he had been forced to carry from the cottage contained more bottles.

"Guido please, go fetch me a last one," the Don was less assertive than usual - you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Alfredo awkwardly stood next to them in silence as he waited for his next instructions. Charcoal and emerald eyes were engaged in a long, fierce battle of dominance, neither of them breaking contact. Hell, it even seemed to Alfredo at some point that the Don fluttered his lashes - but that could also be exhaustion talking.

Years of working within that specific industry had taught Alfredo how they would inevitably settle that growing tension between them.

Once again, for as long as they would pay for the subsequential seats cleaning, he didn't care. It wouldn't be the first indecent make-out session to happen at the back of his precious vehicle, and probably not the last.

A partition wall was always between Alfredo and his clients. Until now, he had never managed to catch them red-handed, but he had heard of those rumors. And he, better than anyone else certainly, knew for a fact that the Don had never sought to have good company brought to him. He'd always travel to his secondary residence alone while the underboss was the kind of man who preferred to drive there by himself.

Apart from the occasional names slips, he had never witnessed any tender gesture, he had never overheard anything remotely ambiguous. The details that had tipped him off were more subtle, or well usually at least they were. They would simply sit a little too close to one another, with no free seat between them - the pair was never five feet apart so that to speak. But right now, unless he would turn off the parking lights, there was no way Alfredo could pretend he wasn't seeing the Don's right hand slowly lowering far too low along the other's back. It was clearly no longer a question of keeping his balance.

"Fine," the Don let out a dramatic sigh and the driver nearly said hallelujah - now that he had admitted defeat, they would be able to leave at last! "If you won't do it, then fine I'll ask our driver instead."

Holy shit, what the hell was going on that night?

Alfredo quietly took a step back to exit the scene but it was too late - both mafiosi were already looking at him. If they were seriously intending on making him break into the mayor's house, he sure hoped they were ready to give a real good tip.

Fortunately, the underboss shook his head and rolled his eyes (had they just swapped personalities?), before reluctantly talking: "'kay you win I'll go. But then, we're outta here." Mista put the box inside the trunk and headed back to the cottage, leaving the driver in the company of the big boss who didn't seem quite inclined to enter the car yet. So Alfredo had no choice but to stay with him outside, on the chilly night and very awkward silence.

It was only after the third hiccup of the Don that the realization came down to him: he wasn't injured by any means, he was just completely drunk.

"Umm," Alfredo knew he wasn't supposed to question his boss, but the silence between them was becoming seriously uncomfortable. "So were you celebrating something Signore?"

The mafia boss looked at him for a long moment - god, the poor driver sure hoped he hadn't made a mistake, before shrugging: "Not really. I simply like Champagne, especially when I'm not the one paying for it."

Who could have thought that someone who spent so much on luxury clothes could be stingy?

Alfredo decided to politely answer. "Yes, I've heard you own several vineyards in Europe Signore. It's clever, I'm sure you never run out it..."

At that, the mighty Giorno Giovanna ungraciously hiccuped again, and the driver had the decency to pretend not to notice it.

"Mhhh.. You don't get it," had the mafia boss just snorted in contempt? "It's not so much about the Champagne itself as it is about the pure satisfaction of having taken possession of it... The mere contentment in knowing that the stupid mayor will never be able to savor it now that it's mine, you know?"

No, of course, not. There was no way Alfredo could possibly relate to that: it must be one of those crazy rich people whims.

Not that he could say it out loud, of course. The night was getting colder and colder, so he hoped the underboss wouldn't take long to be back.

"Would you like a bottle?," the Don's question took him by surprise so the driver, out of reflex, shook his head.

"Good, or you would have had to convince Mista to go back."

The stingy rich bastard.

Alfredo couldn't believe he was thinking that of him, in any other situation he would never have allowed himself to think that of Giorno Giovanna, but there were at least eight bottles in the trunk, he had seen them. And the Don knew that.

Fortunately, the underboss chose that exact moment to reappear and slam the trunk door shut after charging it with two other bottles.

Discreet much?

But whatever, the Don seemed rather pleased with that and finally agreed to go inside the car - his customers' satisfaction was what mattered the most to Alfredo.

After all, with good service came good tippers.

And that night, in exchange for the obvious promise to keep his mouth shut about what he had witnessed, the underboss sure went overboard with the tip.

━━━━━ ༻ 🧹 ༺ ━━━━━

It was now 8:20 a.m.: even though the day had started way earlier for Agnese, she had had to wait for the mobsters living upstairs to rise and shine, so she could proceed to clean their rooms. It was by far the task she hated the most: grabbing her heavy cleaning cart, she pushed it towards what had to be the cleanest place of them all. The Don's private quarters, starting with his excessively large bathroom: since the fancy tiles there took the longest to dry, she would then continue with his connected bedroom.

However, as soon as she stepped foot inside, Agnese almost fainted at the horrible sight that met her eyes.

Clothes, confetti and popped balloons were scattered everywhere, pieces of glass were covering the soaked floor, and an astronomical amount of what furiously smelled like Champagne had been dumped into the bathtub, splattering the walls and the carpet- hell, it even seemed like some of it was still fizzing inside.

Up until now, she had thought that she had seen it all, that nothing that the most wicked mind was capable of, could possibly surprise her. But that was a whole new level of a mess.

Thankfully, the inscription on a balloon (the survivor, the only one that had not exploded yet) was what prompted her not to hand the culprit her immediate resignation letter.

The Don's birthday would only happen once a year.

And with some sheer luck, she'd be able to negotiate her well-deserved retirement before the next one.

That morning, Guido woke up because of a cuss word that reminded him very much of his native Italian countryside. He had no idea what time it was: Giorno's expensive alarm clock having been inadvertently smashed the night before. He yawned gleefully and stretched out his arms before turning to face the lumpy shape beside him.

The mighty Giorno Giovanna, drool on his chin, was muffled in his blanket, and it didn't seem from the look of it that he'd be getting up any time soon.

He was probably dealing with a hell of a hangover right now - served him right for the astronomical quantity of Champagne in which he had literally bathed and drowned. Giorno would decidedly never learn from his past mistakes. Well, he was very much looking forward to taunting his lover for years about that unfortunate late birthday episode.

There was no way the mafia boss would be able to conduct his meetings of the day - changing the planning wasn't something to worry about even though it would piss the hell out of Fugo for sure. Feeling compassionate about what was awaiting Giorno, he gently patted what he thought was his head (?) and smiled as he heard him grumble in return. How cute.

Guido finally stood up to start his day, he would smuggle him some Ibuproben later but first thing first, his much-awaited morning tinkle. And a long hot shower. Yeah, that way he would perhaps find a ploy to avoid dealing with Giorno's responsibilities instead of him. While he was not hungover, the late night's events had completely drained him of his energy.

Giorno's bathroom truly was something: it was way more spacious and tidier than his own. To him, it was a literal spa: cool extra-powerful water jets, a gigantic glass shower cabin AND a massive marble bathtub, a myriad of bottles of heavenly-smelling shampoo, conditioners, shower gels and body lotions everywhere - hell, there was even a housekeeper politely handing him a towel.

...

Holy shit.

Trying his best to cover his naked glory, Guido Mista could only stutter pitifully:

"Uhh.. Yeah, so about that new raise of yours we were discussin' the other day..."

This would only be the fourth time of the year, so at this point...

#giomis #misgio #misgio fanfic #giomis fanfic #misgio fic #giomis fic #giomis fanfiction #misgio fanfiction #giorno x mista #mista x giorno #one shot #giomis oneshot

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majesty-madness · 4 years

Text

An Outlaw’s Better Half (Arthur Morgan x reader series)

https://giphy.com/gifs/rockstargames-revolver-rdr2-reddead-5WIMcQNeu6TWoIrkfB

Summary: Y/N lost her only friends to a gang of thugs, who murdered them all. With nowhere to go, she wanders the streets only to be met with a certain cowboy. After saving her life, Arthur brings her back to camp and everyone is very welcoming. Y/N begins to think maybe this could be her new family, a real family, but how will she react when she learns that the gang that welcomed her with opens arms, steals and kills to get by?

Chapter One

Word Count: 4000+

Warning: Angst, violence and murder, blood, cursing

Violence wasn’t something that she hadn’t experienced in all of her life of living. It was everywhere and sometimes a necessity if you wanted to survive.

There were times when she had actually used brute force to get away from a sticky situation but it wasn’t until afterward that the events would truly dawn on her. Though she never dwelled on it for long. As long as she made it out alive, that’s all that mattered.

Y/N had recently settled about a mile away from the town of Valentine, the spot was hidden by massive trees and overgrown bushes.

She wasn’t alone, a few other individuals had joined her or rather she joined them. They were a relatively small camp with only ten people. Not at all capable of taking on a whole gang by themselves but strong enough to survive.

Y/N was patching up a ripped hole in a thin quilt of hers when a woman in her mid forties, walked up to her.

“Need any help with that?” She kindly asked, taking a seat next to the young (h/c).

Y/N smiled, “No thanks, Isabelle. I think I can handle it this time. Besides, I’m not sure how you could help me with sewing anyway.”

“I could hold it for you.” Isabelle replied.

The (h/c) abruptly stopped what she was doing and plopped her hands in her lap. “Hold it?” She asked, raising her eyebrow.

“What? I meant like keep it still for ya, that’s all.” Isabelle defended. She gestured to the blue quilt in Y/N’s lap.

Y/N let out an airy laugh, her body convulsing harshly. “Thanks but I’ve got it.” She wiped her teary eyes and continued to sew.

The older woman playfully scowled. “Alright, fine. Don’t come crying to me when you forget how to tie off the ‘nd.”

“That was one time!” Y/N jabbed back, an amused smile still plastered to her face.

There was a moment of silence, different members of the small group attending to their own chores or activities, and Y/N just remained sitting on a log that sat only two feet from her tent. Then the familiar ear shattering noise caused Y/N and Isabelle to jump up from their seats.

Other members' attention had also been directed toward the sound of the noise. But before they knew what hit them, men on horses were charging straight for them.

Y/N’s small group of people tried to retaliate but were far too late and lacked better aim.

She and Isabelle were attempting to escape when Isabelle caught a bullet to the back and crashed into the young (h/c), sending them both to go tumbling to the dirt ground.

With the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Y/N’s legs were tempted to pull her body back up and push her to start running the opposite direction but her mind quickly came to a conclusion that made every muscle in her body freeze.

If she did try to run then she would surely be killed on the spot so she did what she thought would at least give her a chance to survive. Nothing.

She laid still, right where she had fallen, and closed her eyes. Waiting. Praying that whoever was there would just go away. Especially when she heard the gunslinging gang argue with one another.

“Why did you shoot all the women?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” One man yelled.

“What’cha you talkin ‘bout?” Another man snapped back.

“We could’ve brought’em back to camp, had a good time with them but no! You had to go in guns blazing and now they're all dead!”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat at this bit of information. She silently thanked the universe for giving her the wisdom to play dead.

“Oh shut up, you drunken bastard.” The one man grumbled, taking heavy footsteps away from where Y/N was lying.

Hours past. Late morning turned to early evening. The sun was beginning its descent and not once had Y/N moved from her initial position, keeping as still as her body would allow. On several occasions though, she wished she could sink into the ground below and use mother earth as her protective shell when the men wandered particularly close.

And as if the universe was answering her silent pleas, the sound of gravel and dirt crunching under someone’s footsteps shattered the silent air. “We gotta go guys! The law is gonna be on top of us!”

“Damn it! Let’s go boys!” Another man, assumingly their leader, said breaking into a full sprint to his horse.

The way the hooves of their horses made contact with the ground, it was obvious that they were leaving quickly, not sparing another glance back on the camp they’d destroyed only hours ago.

Y/N waited a few minutes just to make sure that they were really actually gone.

When she could only hear the sound of the wind rushing through the trees, she wiggled herself free from the cold, dead grasp of what once was a kind older lady.

She crawled across the ground, her body becoming covered in mud. A few grunts and groans of excursion left her mouth, and eventually she flopped down on her back when finally free.

All was silent. Not a word was spoken. Not a single animal call could be heard. Just the wind, blowing softly through nature’s livelihood.

It was an absolute nightmare.

The silence felt like a hot knife in her chest, burning and suffocating. She was left to rewind to the events of what had happened.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she quietly cried to herself.

Was she crying for her group or for herself? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was, once again, on her own.

__________

It was night by now and the moon was in full bloom.

Arthur and John were making their way back to camp after finding out a tip they’d heard about in a saloon turned out to be a bust.

Should have known better than to listen to a drunken idiot.

“Got any idea where we can start looking for another score?” John asked, his eyes darting to the back of Arthur’s head.

Arthur shrugged. “I ain’t got a clue. But I’ll head back into town tomorrow, see if there mighta been something we missed.”

“Let me know if you hear about anything.” John replied as he and Arthur continued to make their way down the dirt road.

Arthur nodded. “I will.”

Recently, they haven't had any luck getting any money. Yeah, there was the few occasional stagecoach robberies and such but nothing that could help them move the whole camp somewhere no one would find them. That would require more money than they were able to get.

They needed to leave and soon or else things were gonna end badly for them.

“Get the hell away from me!”

Both Arthur and John raised their heads at the sound of a woman shouting.

About ten feet in front of them stood a group of men, completely surrounding a young lady.

“Stay back!” The woman fearfully hissed, holding up her knife so as to give the impression that she wasn’t afraid but anyone could tell otherwise. Especially these arrogant bastards.

“Oh come on, we just want to have a little fun.” One man smirked, licking his lips with lust coating his eyes.

He reached out to take the woman’s arm and as soon as his hand made contact, she pulled him towards her and jammed her knife deep into his throat.

The man stumbled back as he gurgled on his own blood, eventually flopping down onto the dirt ground. The rest of the group of men stared at their dying friend.

John and Arthur watched as the events unfolded, hands pressed to their revolvers just in case things were going to get messy.

“You’re gonna pay for that bitch!” Another man yelled, pulling out a gun from his holster.

However, before he could even wrap his hands around the handle, another loud boom echoed in the air.

The loud gunshot caused everyone to turn to the origin of the noise.

There sat Arthur, revolver in hand, and a thin trail of smoke seeping from the tip of the steel barrel.

“Any of you think of reaching for your guns, I’ll put a bullet in ya.” Arthur said, his voice low in tone and VERY intimidating.

He didn’t have to tell the group of men twice as they quickly scurried away.

Arthur set his revolver back into his holster and hopped off his horse.

When the young woman caught sight of the mass of the brown haired, blue eyed cowboy approaching her, she pointed her now bloody knife toward Arthur.

“Whoa there, ma’am.” Arthur immediately raised his hands up in surrender. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Heavy pants slipped past the lady’s pink lips as well as a few pained whimpers. She was dreadfully scared but based on her demeanor she was not going to let someone threaten her without a fight.

Though Arthur decided he might press his luck.

“Are you alright, miss?” He asked with some variation of concern but readied himself in case the lady tried to attack him.

She hesitated but eventually shook her head. Arthur looked back to John and he only shrugged.

The cowboy took another step forward. “Are you alone?”

The lady’s eyes darted to the ground, her quivering lips and watery eyes telling Arthur all that he needed to know.

Even though she hadn’t said anything, it was obvious that this poor, fearful woman had been through some kind of trauma.

Arthur’s eyes squinted in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

The lady looked back up, her expression softening just a bit.

“You’re bleeding…” He pointed to the blood dripping from her temple then again looked back at John to see if maybe he thought there was something wrong. Though, he didn’t seem bothered by it all, in fact, he nodded his head knowing what Arthur was insinuating.

“If you want, you…” Arthur paused. “You could come with us, we’ve got some other women back at our camp that can help you get cleaned up.”

“How-” The woman finally spoke. This perked Arthur’s attention. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“I saved your life. And if I was a threat, you would’a known it by now.”

Arthur could see the gears turning in her head as she thought through her options. Stay to die alone or get some help from a couple of cowboys? She chose the latter.

She slid her bloody knife back into her sheath and nodded. “Okay.”

Arthur gestured towards his horse that was waiting next to John, and the young lady followed behind him. She kept a considerable distance away from the man that saved her just in case he was going to try something.

He stepped up onto his saddle, pulled himself up, and swung his leg to rest on the other side then held out his hand for the lady to take.

She grasped his hand in her own and used her own strength to help Arthur lift her up on his horse. She sat side saddle, her hands resting on Arthur’s broad shoulders. It would be weird if she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Or at least she thought so.

The three individuals made their way back to camp. For the rest of the trip, no one said a word. Instead there was silence except for the occasional animal calls which Y/N made sure to admire as her mind wandered into the abyss.

From this point on, she had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her next.

Either she was actually going to get help from these strangers, get killed, or…

Y/N shook her head. She didn’t want to think of what they were capable of doing to her. Terrible things she imagined. However, even though she didn’t know these people there was this gut feeling, an instinct, telling her that maybe, just maybe they were trustworthy.

After all, this man saved her life. Anyone else would have walked by, without so much as batting an eye but not him. He saw she was in trouble and came to her aid.

Suppose there was still some good left in the world.

Arthur and John approached the edge of camp, their horses trotting towards Charles who was guarding the camp this particular night.

“Arthur. John” Charles greeted.

His eyes then wandered to the young lady seated behind Arthur. She quickly looked away from his intimidating stare. “Who’s that?”

“Someone we picked up coming back to camp.” John answered, still following behind Arthur.

Arthur hitched his horse and hopped off. He turned to Y/N and held out his arms toward her to help her off the back of his horse.

She looked down at his hands, a perplexed expression bent into her features.

Arthur bobbed his hands up and down for a second before saying, “Come on.”

Y/N hesitantly leaned forward and rested her hands on Arthur’s shoulders as he lifted her from the horse and placed her on the ground.

“This way.” Arthur said, leading Y/N towards the center of camp.

Her eyes darted around the makeshift camp, searching for anyone she’d consider friendly. Not many of them looked all that amicable but she did see some woman which she wasn’t sure that relieved her in some way or made her even more skeptical.

Though when members of the group began to form a crowd around her and Arthur, that small relief soon vanished.

“Ah, Arthur.” Dutch greeted him as soon as the stocky cowboy came into his vision. “How’re things in Valentine?”

Arthur scratched at his stubble, “Not so good. Turns out the leads were nothin’ but rumors.”

“We’ll just have to keep looking.” Dutch said and Arthur nodded in agreement.

Just then Dutch caught sight of the young lady timidly standing behind Arthur’s towering figure.

“And who is this young lady?” Dutch said strutting around Arthur to see Y/N more clearly.

Y/N’s (e/c) orbs flashed up to meet Dutch’s gaze and she found herself stepping closer to Arthur.

“This is… uh...well actually, we don’t know her name but we found her on the main road, a few men were becoming little less than friendly.”

Dutch welcomed Y/N with a smile. “Well, miss…” He paused, waiting for her to respond.

Y/N gulped, fiddling with her shaking hands. “L/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Well Miss. L/N, you are welcome to stay here with us for as long as you need.” Dutch then looked over to the girls that had conveniently gathered together. “Miss. Grimshaw. Abigail. Get Miss. L/N cleaned up and a fresh pair of clothes will ya?”

Miss. Grimshaw and Abigail nodded then stepped forward and guided Y/N away from the crowd.

Y/N let them lead her away but not before she turned her head to look over her shoulder to Arthur, getting one last glance at his blue eyes as she walked further away.

For some reason, she felt she would rather not leave him but did anyhow.

“Come this way, honey.” Miss. Grimshaw said, pulling Y/N towards Abigail’s tent.

They stepped inside the tent along with Mary-Beth and Tilly following suit.

Miss. Grimshaw turned to Mary-Beth, “Go get some water and clean rag.” She ordered.

Mary-Beth nodded and headed out of the tent.

Miss. Grimshaw turned her attention back to the young (h/c) standing patiently in the middle of the large tent. “Let’s get you out of those dirty clothes.” She reached out to help her but Y/N instinctively flinched away, startling everyone remaining in the tent.

They all stood with their eyes on Y/N’s stiff form. She seemed as if she were prepared for someone to attack her.

Abigail stepped just a tad bit closer. “It’s okay. We ain’t gonna hurt ya. We just want to help.” The burnette reassured.

Y/N’s eyes darted from Abigail, to Miss. Grimshaw, to Tilly then back to Abigail again.

After a minute or two of waiting, the three women could visibly see the (h/c)’s body relax as she rested her arms at her sides.

“Abigail, get Miss. L/N some clean clothes. Looks like she’s ‘bout your size.” She said and Abigail agreed, walking over to a corner in the tent and beginning to rummage through her clothes to find something decent for the young (h/c) to wear.

Mary-Beth then walked in with a cool bowl of water, and a clean rag sticking out from the edge of the metal. She stood next to Grimshaw, a soft expression on her face as she made eye contact with Y/N.

Grimshaw grabbed the rag from the metal bowl and rang out the extra water the rag had soaked up over the course of the time it sat in the bowl.

When it was damp enough to her liking, she stepped toward Y/N and very gently placed one hand under Y/N’s chin to keep her head still while she wiped away the dried blood that lay against her temple.

Even though Grimshaw was usually a hard ass, she handled the scared woman with care, almost as if she were made of glass. Fragile to the touch. Which surprisingly comforted Y/N, they were much kinder than originally anticipated.

Once the blood was wiped clean, Grimshaw tossed the now blood covered rag back into the metal bowl. “Alright. You’re all good. Just get changed into some fresh clothes and bring these ones out. We’ll make sure to wash’em for ya.” Grimshaw said, gesturing to her dirt covered skirt and shirt.

Abigail walked back over, neatly folded clothing in her hands. “Here ya go.”

Y/N cautiously extended her arms to take the clothes from Abigail. “T-thank you.” she mumbled scarcely, her lips pressing into a tight line.

She wasn’t sure what to make of what was happening.

Most people weren’t so kind, and selfless. Not that she didn’t appreciate what they were doing for her because she did very much so, but why go out of their way just to help some stranger that, for all they know, could be a threat?

Guess they were willing to take that chance.

“Go on, get changed. We’ll give ya some privacy.” Grimshaw stated hurriedly gesturing for the rest of the girls to exit said tent, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts.

It was a good few minutes before Y/N even thought about moving and proceeding with swapping out her clothes.

The older lady was right, she was the same size as the burnette.

There was no mirror around to check out her appearance so she just had to hope that she didn’t look too ridiculous, not that it really mattered.

She approached the edge of the tent. Her nerves getting the better of her.

What would happen once she stepped out of the confines of the tent. Nothing? Her worst nightmare?

Arthur’s words rang through her head. “If I was a threat, you would’a known it by now.”

If these people went as far as to clean her, bring her clothes, and overall help her then maybe they could be trusted.

Y/N closed her eyes. “Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out” She took a deep breathe then let it out in an attempt to calm her nerves.

When she stepped away from the makeshift home, Y/N immediately saw that a few men had grouped together and were discussing amongst themselves.

It was hard to tell what they were saying at first but in curiosity, she stepped closer and was able to make out what they were saying.

“We’ve got to let the girl go.” Micah said.

“We can’t just throw her out.” John intervened, annoyance palpable in his voice.

“She’s a stranger. And a threat to all of us.” Micah continued.

Arthur scoffed. “Didn’t realize you were so concerned for the rest of us.”

“I’m only thinking about the group.” Micah defended, his tone hiding some ulterior motive.

A pang of sadness rushed through Y/N as she listened in on what they were saying.

Micah continued. “I say we send the girl on her way.”

“No. I think we should let her stay with us and if she wants to leave then-” Dutch stopped when he caught sight of Y/N who was standing a few feet away.

The other men followed Dutch’s gaze, seeing that the damsel in distress had been standing right there, most likely listening in on what they were discussing.

Y/N’s expression told them all they needed to know. Her brows furrowed inward, not in anger but in sadness. Her (e/c) eyes held a thousand words, and her slightly parted mouth emphasized how she felt.

“I-”

“There you are, honey. Let me take those-” Miss. Grimshaw interrupted, causing Y/N to look at her then she took a hold of Y/N’s dirty clothes. “And let’s go find you somewhere to sleep.” She continued, and quickly guided Y/N away from the men.

As Miss. Grimshaw led Y/N away from the group of men, she caught a glimpse of that saddened expression making a home into Y/N’s features.

“Oh honey, don’t you worry ‘bout Mr.Bell. He says a lot of things but he’s all talk.”

“But he’s right; I am a stranger.” Y/N objected earnestly.

Miss. Grimshaw quickly pulled Y/N over toward a propped up tent. “Listen to me; you might be a stranger but don’t mean you ain’t decent.”

Her answer surprised the young (h/c).

The elderly woman continued. “You needed help, and we took upon ourselves to help you. Now don’t go worrying about things that ain’t gonna happen.”

Miss Grimshaw turned away grabbing an extra blanket from the back of one of the wagons then turned back and plopped it into Y/N’s arms.

“Now you’re gonna sleep right next to Mary-Beth.” The older woman spoke as she led Y/N over to a pitched tent in the center of camp.

Y/N assumed that Mary-Beth was the one already standing under the tarp that was the roof of the tent.

As soon as Grimshaw was near Mary-Beth, she started to rapidly swat her waves toward her signifying she wanted her to move over.

“Scooch over! We need to make room for Ms. L/N.”

The brunette quickly grabbed the edge of her sleeping bag and scooted over just a few inches.

“There you go, honey.” Miss Grimshaw said, looking to the (h/c).

Y/N perked up and slowly walked over to the now vacant spot and stood there for a second.

Miss Grimshaw continued. “Now lie down, get some rest, and I’m sure things will look better in the morning.” And just like that she walked away and out of sight.

The young female merely stood frozen in her spot, letting the events from the day sink in. Before she could protest, hot tears fell from the base of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

Mary-Beth could notice the change in aura around this young lady, and lightly rested her hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

A sniffle was heard causing a wave of sympathy to rush over Mary-Beth. She stepped out from behind the young woman to see her face. The tears were the first thing she saw even in the black ridden night.

“Here.” Mary-Beth dug into the pocket sewn into the front of her dress and pulled out a sparkling, clean, white handkerchief.

Y/N gently took the handkerchief out of Mary-Beth’s hand and used it to wipe the continuous tears. “I’m sorry…” She whimpered her voice cracking in the midst of her apology.

Mary-Beth managed a light hearted smile. “Sorry for what? For crying? You got nothing to be sorry for. It’s alright to cry when you’re hurting.” Mary-Beth paused. “I know we don’t know you very well and we don’t know what you’ve been through, but it’s gonna be okay. You’ll be safe with us.”

Y/N looked up at Mary-Beth and saw the genuinity in her eyes.

She wiped her eyes once more before handing the handkerchief back with a nod following soon after. “Okay…”

The brunette flashed a smile again as she took her handkerchief and stowed back it into her pocket.

Y/N turned around and backed away from her designated spot to roll out her sleeping bag. Right now, more than anything, she just wanted to get to bed, though she wasn’t sure that she would be able to sleep. Not when she was in a strange place with strange people, but she could at least try.

She laid down to cover herself up with the thin fabric to hopefully fall into a peaceful slumber.

Despite the trauma, Y/N allowed her thoughts to linger on those of her fallen friends.

They were good, and hard working people trying to make an honest living.

Trying to survive. Same as her. They didn’t deserve being shot down by a bunch of two bit thugs who cared about nothing but their own desires.

Though, that was the world they lived in. Life and death go hand and hand and sometimes it was just a person’s time to go even if it was in a brutal fashion or even if it was unfair.

Most times it was.

______

Series Masterlist

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

49 notes · View notes

mrs-daddyissues · 3 years

Text

considerably

~ C H A P T E R 5 ~

~ Masterlist ~

Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth x OFC

Series Summary: Sarabi Nichols is Bruce Wayne’s life long friend that aids in creating weaponry and making outfits. When she was younger she had a thing for Bruce but now her taste has aged. Considerably. Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce’s guardian and butler is more her style now. Despite this knew found liking, Sarabi feels trapped. She can’t talk to Bruce about it and clearly can’t mention it to Alfred. The only person she has is her best friend, Claudia. Sarabi has to fight the things she feels for the older man because he could never feel the same way back, right?

{Normal} Playlist

{Slowed+Reverb} Playlist

Warnings: Discussion about sex, smutty thoughts, swearing

Word Count: 2444

Author’s Note:

I have nothing to say right now, so just enjoy!

After cleaning her sheets and placing them in the washing machine, Sarabi made her way to the cave. Her previous encounter with Alfred had left something buzzing around in her body. She didn’t know if it was lust, fear, excitement or something entirely different. Sarabi’s thoughts of Alfred were clouding her judgement and she had to tell herself that it wasn’t a good idea to chase after him. He was a loyal and faithful man but he wasn’t the right person for Sarabi, right?

Sarabi pushed all thoughts of Alfred in any other way but her coworker and friend out of her brain and trapped them in a cell. They pushed against the bars of her psyche but she didn’t let them pass. Those thoughts would only get in the way and make things worse. She didn’t have time for feelings.

Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, as soon as Sarabi stepped foot in the cave and saw Alfred, she couldn’t help but picture how utterly delectable he looked in real life and her dream. All those naughty images from her dream came flooding back as Alfred looked on with kind eyes.

“Miss Nichols, how are you feeling?” Alfred asked politely while he made himself a cup of tea.

‘Turned on,’ was the truest thing Sarabi could say to address the elephant in the room, or rather the elephant in her mind, but she knew that would be a bit blunt. She breathed out a shaky breath to ease the tension and desire coursing through her veins.

“Not too bad, Alfred,” Sarabi answered, trying desperately to push all those sensual thoughts and pictures swirling in her mind away.

As soon as she spoke, Alfred snapped his head up and his eyes burned into her. Sarabi’s body also burned even hotter as his gaze lightly dusted her body. His eyes were not invasive but rather just curious about her current attire. She usually wore simple clothing like shorts and a shirt, considering what her job entailed. ‘Maybe Italy has just changed her,’ Alfred thought to himself as he peeled his eyes from Sarabi.

Sarabi noticed the way he seemed reluctant to look away but chalked it up to shock at what she was wearing. She rarely wore dresses to anything but formal events like galas and balls.

Sarabi secretly hoped it was something more than shock but knew she was just tugging at the fantasies still dancing around in her mind. Alfred saw her as a coworker and friend, that was it.

The whole workday felt longer than usual. Sarabi had to continually remind herself that she was working and doing something to help Bruce. But as soon as Alfred’s mesmerising voice rang out, she involuntarily turned to look at him. She imagined what that voice would feel like whispering dirty things into her ear. Or what he would sound like whimpering under her. She was enthralled and fascinated by him or maybe just thankful to have a friend like Alfred.

‘It’s the latter option,’ Sarabi tried telling herself but deep down she knew it was most probably the former.

Sarabi groaned loudly and Alfred stopped what he was doing. He turned his head to the right to look at Sarabi. He rotated his full body around and gave Sarabi his full attention to her.

“Miss Nichols, do you need something? Or do you want to go get some rest?” Alfred questioned kindly and sympathetically. Alfred had never seen Sarabi so tense and it confused him greatly. Sarabi was tough, one of the toughest women he knew without superpowers, so something was clearly tormenting her.

“Um, it’s alright I’ll go get a heat pack,” Sarabi replied as she went to stand up.

Alfred stopped her with a gentle hand on her forearm. The contact made Sarabi’s cheeks burn deep crimson. His hand was calloused but soft against her skin. The contact sent all of the images from her dream back to her. She pictured him grabbing her forearm, wrapping it around her back and bending her over the work table. The contact was innocent and simple but it sent Sarabi into oblivion.

“No, Miss Nichols, I’ll go get one for. You sit down and relax,” Alfred removed his hand and stood up. He noticed her cheeks and how flushed she seemed but Alfred just ignored everything his instincts told him. ‘She was maybe just nervous to ask about the heat pack,’ was what he decided no matter how ridiculous it sounded to him.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Sarabi laid her head against the cool metal of the desk, hoping to freeze all the thoughts rattling through her brain. The visions of Alfred thrusting on top of her and the feeling of his lips against hers were still so vivid. She could picture it so easily without any inconvenience. She shoved all the snapshots back into their jail cell and locked it as tightly as she could.

No matter how tightly she tried to lock those thoughts away, they came crawling back. They escaped their confinement and snuck back into her mind. Just a look from Alfred triggered those erotic visions and they got even more heated through the day. She started imagining how his head would look between her thighs and how he would choke her. The images got more explicit as the day went on. She grasped those images and chucked them into the cell. She secured it tautly and attempted to keep it that way.

“Here you are, Miss Nichols,” Alfred called out with a heat pack in hand. Sarabi brought herself out of her thoughts and took the heat pack.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Sarabi placed it on her stomach hoping to ease her tension but it clearly made her even hotter. ‘Great! Just what I needed!’ was all she could think.

As the heat pack grew cold, the workday came to an end. Alfred offered to heat it up again throughout the day but Sarabi refused politely. Though the heat pack was no longer warm against her stomach, her body still felt hot all over. The dream and Alfred’s presence seemed to strike a matchstick inside of Sarabi and burn her insides with desire. Sarabi had never even had sex but her sex drive was so high and absolutely outrageous. She was a virgin to any form of sexual activity. No one had ever touched her intimately save for herself on the very odd occasion. Even with having no experience, she wanted and needed it. She wanted and needed her desires to be met but she was going to deny herself of it. She hoped that refusing her sexual needs would make them disappear but that most certainly did not work.

After working in the cave for about 5 hours, Bruce came down and said that Claudia was there to see Sarabi. She was grateful to get out of the cave because if she stayed there a second longer her ovaries might just explode. A simple glance from Alfred was enough to send Sarabi into a bout of hysteria. She stood up quickly and wandered off with Bruce. She frowned softly at Alfred and he frowned back. As soon as she stepped foot in the elevator and the doors closed, she breathed out a sigh of relief.

“That bad?” Bruce asked as they rode the elevator back up to Wayne Manor.

“Huh?” Sarabi turned her head with a perplexed look appearing on her face.

“Your period,” Bruce expanded and Sarabi let a small smile come to her lips.

“Yeah, just a little. Wait, how do you know?” Sarabi interrogated with the utmost confusion. She didn’t actually have her period, she was just pretending, so she had no idea how Bruce would know.

“Just a wild guess. You’re only this moody during that time of the month,” Bruce ruffled up her hair and Sarabi huffed.

“Fuck you,” Sarabi stated as Bruce let her out of the elevator first into Wayne Manor.

“Fuck you too,” Bruce replied as he led her to her bedroom where Claudia stood admiring the collection of dresses she had. Claudia had a pink strapless one draped over her body, sizing it up.

“Sarabi, what do you think about this dress?” Claudia spun around and presented herself.

“I think it would look drop-dead gorgeous but put it back, that’s one of my favourites,” Sarabi nearly laughed as Claudia pouted and placed her dress back.

“I’ll be in my study,” Bruce announced before walking off, leaving the two girls alone.

“How’s work been?” Sarabi asked as she sat down on her newly cleaned bed.

“Pretty good, I’ve now hooked up with practically everybody I can,” Claudia declared with a smug smile.

“That’s what you’re proud of? And also who can’t you fuck?” Sarabi breathed out heavily as Claudia grabbed out another dress to size up.

“The straight girls, gays and the one asexual dude,” Claudia answered nonchalantly. Claudia had always been open about her sexuality and sex life with Sarabi. She held nothing back. She told her who she slept with, how good they were and who she wanted to sleep with next.

“Have you had the ‘sexy time’ with anyone yet?” Claudia shimmied her shoulders to enhance her point and Sarabi rolled her eyes.

“No,” was the only answer Sarabi gave and this perked Claudia’s interest.

Whenever Claudia asked about Sarabi’s sex life, she always gave a massive spiel about how she would only have sex when the right guy came along and all that jazz. But this time she only said no.

“No? Is that the only answer I get?” Claudia sat down next to Sarabi and Sarabi realised her mistake. She wasn’t going to tell Claudia about the dream but she figured it wasn’t the worst thing she could do.

“Claudia, I’m gonna tell you something that you can’t repeat to anyone, okay?” Sarabi warned Claudia and she nodded.

“Swear on my mother’s grave,’ Claudia swore oath like a girl scout and Sarabi scoffed with an eye roll.

“Okay, I had a sex dream last night,” Sarabi informed and watched Claudia’s mouth gape.

“About whom?” Claudia teased with a wicked smile.

“Well, see that’s the thing, the person I had the dream about I’ve never been attracted to before. He’s not my usual go-to but-”

“Just tell me, I don’t give a fuck. I once spanked a 90-year-old in a pink thong for a free ticket to a 5 Seconds of Summer concert,” Claudia enlightened and Sarabi’s eyes bugged out.

“Just kidding but seriously, who is it?” Claudia shuffled closer to Sarabi knowing she would probably whisper it.

“Alfred,” Sarabi’s confession was barely beyond a hushed whisper and Claudia swore she was hearing things.

“Wait, what? Alfred...Pennyworth?” Claudia questioned with squinted eyes. Sarabi could see the scepticism and confusion surging through her eyes.

“Yes,” Sarabi answered slowly with a slightly shaky breath. She hadn’t admitted this to anyone and it was relieving to not keep her thoughts in the dark, hidden away.

“Oh, I see,” Claudia kept an indifferent look on her face and Sarabi suddenly felt stupid. She had just admitted that she had a sex dream about Alfred Pennyworth. She admitted that she dreamed about a British butler in his late 60s fucking her. ‘What is wrong with me?’ was all she could think.

“Oh, girl I get it! He is such a DILF like I don’t blame you for having the hots for him. His voice just screams ‘Now every woman I come into contact with has daddy issues’,” Claudia explained with a bright smile on her face. She also tried to replicate Alfred’s deep, British voice but ended up sounding nothing like him. Sarabi felt a weight lifted off her shoulders as Claudia agreed with her.

“You do? Thank the Holy Lord Jesus Christ!” Sarabi laughed along with Claudia like two schoolgirls discussing their crushes.

“I see Europe has changed your taste in men considerably,” Claudia commented as she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Now give me the deets, please,” Claudia begged with her hands in a praying motion. Sarabi contemplated it. She felt a bit embarrassed but Claudia would never judge her for anything. Claudia would rob a bank and hide a body for her.

“Well, Alfred knocked on my bedroom door and he came wandering in. He sat down on the edge of the bed and started kissing me,” Sarabi explained as Claudia smirked mischievously.

“Go on,” Claudia urged with a quick hand motion.

“I straddled his lap and we kissed some more. I pushed him back on the bed but he flipped us over,” Sarabi reminisced on the pleasurable dream.

“And well, the rest you can imagine,” Sarabi blushed scarlet as she disclosed the intimate details of her dream.

“I sure can,” Claudia chaffed with a playful smirk.

“I must’ve been moaning out loud because Alfred, like in real life, came running in and shook me awake. He could hear me calling his name,” Sarabi slapped a palm against her forehead. That was the most humiliating part.

“Aw! Did he think you were in trouble?” Claudia teased as she pouted her lips.

“Yes, and he also made me breakfast in bed while he got Bruce to check my temperature. He was worried I was sick,” Sarabi contently simpered and Claudia watched her eyes light up brightly.

“You like him, don’t you?” Claudia gasped while her eyes lit up happily.

“What? No! I think it’s just hormones,” Sarabi tried to rationalise what she was feeling.

“Duh! Your hormones are going loco because Daddy Pennyworth’s makin’ ‘em go that way!” Claudia spelled out and didn’t even hesitate when calling him ‘daddy’. That was Claudia, flamboyant, eccentric and carefree. She gave zero fucks about what other people would or did think.

“Oh, seriously, Claudia? Don’t call him that,” Sarabi cringed at the nickname.

“Okay fine but you need to stop hiding from yourself. You have to admit your emotions to the rest of your body. Don’t lie to yourself it hurts even more,” Claudia spoke from experience, having always covered up how she truly felt.

“I’m not hiding,” Sarabi defended herself. Sarabi wasn’t catching the hots for Alfred. Was she?

“Yes, you are. I suggest you go down to him right now and say, ‘Hey Alfred I like you and I wanna fuck you’. Okay, maybe don’t do that but you get the point. Admit it to yourself when you like someone,” Claudia spoke truthfully not wanting Sarabi to deny herself her emotions.

Sarabi shook her head and giggled at Claudia’s outspoken opinion on the situation.

Sarabi just wished she could be that open with everybody in her life.

<<CHAPTER 4<< ~ ~ ~ >>CHAPTER 6>>

#dc #dceu #alfred pennyworth #jeremy irons #jeremy irons fanfic #ofc #fanfiction #fanfic #slow burn

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launchpadthai · 3 years

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Heliotropism 2/?

Summary: Fethry finds Steelbeak in a bad state and gladly nurses him back to health. Genre: Fluff, bonding, platonic intimacy. Confident!Fethry and Humbled!Steelbeak Rating: G Word count: 1750ish Part one

Notes: Again no beta, so feel free to message me if you see any funny sentences or grammar! --

One night (or morning? Did time matter under water?) he woke up sprawled on the library floor rug and looked over to see Fethry laying a few feet from him. He was reading a massive book, his face in his palms and was lightly kicking his legs in the air behind him. Did Fethry sleep AT ALL?

When Steelbeak explored parts of the sea lab while trying to “break out,” he wasn’t able to get through certain doors without a passcode, so he just full fist punched at some panels, smashing the buttons in frustration. Now, as they walked by one of the panels with crooked buttons and a toolbox sitting near it, he felt a bad feeling start to bubble inside of him. It was fleeting though, as he rubbed the back of his neck to chase it away. Fethry just kept humming as he walked by.

They stopped at a different door with an untouched panel and Fethry slowly pressed the buttons, like he meant for him to see the code. Steelbeak did see, and as Fethry turned back to grin at him, he turned his head a little too late, but still pretended he didn’t see. The doors slid open and he was met with a large dome made entirely of transparent material, save for a few metal beams lined with dim lights holding it all together, and a view of the bottom of the ocean. Aside from the colorful krill, schools of fish swam by, illuminated only by the lights given off by the rest of the sub lab. ‘Interesting…” He moseyed to the middle of the dome, tilting his head up and around. There was a little living room style set in the middle, complete with couches, chairs, lamps and a rug pulling it all together. It was by far the tallest room in the lab, but it also felt like the smallest. Steelbeak was not used to being trapped by a void, but rather a room like brick or cement. His hands in the pockets of borrowed pants were not enough to chase his shivers away, but when he looked back to Fethry, who was pressed against the dome wall- red outfit vividly standing against the deep blue- he felt the warmth of a campfire. Fethry moved his head around, like he was searching for something in the darkness before turning to Steel, his finger pressed against the clear wall above his own head. “Look! Barracudas!” Fethry bounced a little on his feet, his hat dancing like him. “Did you know they have ring structures in their ears like trees? The number of rings they have is also their age!” Steelbeak walked over, looking up at the pod of large fish floating in what little sun had made its way down to the depths. It was…kind of nice. “They have razor sharp teeth, like you.” Fethry said matter-of-factly and Steelbeak chuckled. After a few minutes of silence, Fethry jumped into a fighting pose, his stance like a boxer, making Steelbeak flinch and reflexively put an arm up for defense. “Who wins in a fight! You? Or a Great White Shark?” Fethry asked while bouncing side to side on the balls of his feet. Steelbeak stared but moved his defense arm down and put a flat hand out, allowing the smaller bird to give it a playful punch. “Actually, I already know you’d beat a shark, but how ‘bout me?” Steel couldn’t prevent the rumble of laugher forming in him, all he could do was collapse to his knees and try to breath as much as possible through his nostrils to try and prevent the giggles bubbling inside. He had really thought this guy was a threat, huh? “Yeah that’s what I thought!” Fethry crouched next to him, giving him another small playful punch to the larger bird’s arm and THAT, that felt good.

Hanging out with Fethry was both a good time and something to overcome for Steelbeak. Having a “friend” without ulterior motives was new for him, but was it luck that Fethry was patient with him? Or was he just...like this with everyone? Steelbeak calmly observed the puzzle that was Fethry. Soon, Steelbeak put together that Fethry did everything when he found him at a desk littered with microscopes and tubes sewing the ripped sleeve back onto his white blazer he thought was lost at sea. “You know that ‘white day’ is a scam, right?” Fethry asked unprompted and all he could do was sit on the floor and listen while Fethry went on a rant. The duck would chat about the sea life, then smoothly transition into clouds or politics while they lounged in sporadic areas of the sea lab Even though he talked a lot and referenced things Steelbeak didn’t know about, it didn’t make him feel stupid and he especially liked when Fethry would act things out, like moments in history or describe something with his hands.

Fethry not only did all the maintenance for the sub lab, but he also cooked, cleaned, recited poetry, organized, created sculptures, and tinkered with different inventions all while reading large books on all kinds of animals, volcanoes, space things, world politics and whatever else he felt like. Steelbeak almost forgot it was just the two of them submerged at the ocean floor because Fethry brought enough light and energy to fill the whole lab. “If your ribs still hurt, sleeping while sitting up should help ease the pain.” Fethry mentioned one night when the larger bird stretched a certain stretch that should have been accompanied by a yawn. “There are a lot of futons, you know.” His ribs didn’t really hurt anymore, unless Fethry made him laugh too hard, but sleeping on the futon while the duck worked on his projects sounded nicer than going to his claimed bed alone. So he started falling asleep in the various places they’d hang out, lulled by the sound of Fethry talking about the zodiac or different types of plastic. One night (or morning? Did time matter under water?) he woke up sprawled on the library floor rug and looked over to see Fethry laying a few feet from him. He was reading a massive book, his face in his palms and was lightly kicking his legs in the air behind him. Did Fethry sleep AT ALL? “Buongiorno!” He beamed when he saw Steelbeak stretch awake. “Help me make the next batch of stew?” -- Steelbeak walked a bit more confidently as he helped bring the little box of vegetables to the kitchen. It felt good to be able to lift something again without pain, even if it was small. The kitchen was a descent size, made for a crew (like most of the lab) and was clean save for a pantry that was clearly rummaged through and unorganized. “Stew is pretty much the only thing I know how to make.” Fethry admitted. Steekbeak would drop his jaw if he could, but of course couldn’t so he settled with wide eyes but furrowed eyebrows towards the duck who studied almost everything. Fethry waved it off. “I do more reading than cooking, and stew is good! But, if I wanna spice things up, I just read a recipe.” Steel set the box down and tapped on his own chest. ”You.” Fethry said matter-of-factly. He motioned around the kitchen and pointed to himself again. “You want to clean everything?” Fethry cocked his head to the side while pulling out cutting boards. Steelbeak could finally pick up on his jests but could only retort with an eyeroll or crossed arms. He chose both this time. “You know how to cook?” He corrected with a grin and Steelbeak nodded proudly. “Well, let’s do one of your recipes when our delivery comes in, we’ll have more ingredients and you’ll be able to chew again.” They dumped the veggies on the countertop and Fethry placed them haphazardly on top each other next to a block holding various knives. Steelbeak grabbed a paring knife and reflexively started peeling a potato in a spiral, pulling the skin off in one piece. “Whoa! Where’d you learn that?” Fethry asked wide eyed. He put a hand on his chin thoughtfully before tracing a square in the air with a finger on one hand and knife in the other, then put two fists in the air in front of him, like holding bars. The universal sign for “prison cell” or so he thought. “Ah, you aggressively read about it in a classroom! I see!” Fethry chirped brightly and Steelbeak shook his head quickly, cutting the air with a straight hand like “no, no” then dead panned at him while he giggled. “You know I’m kidding. Was it jail?” He froze, realizing what he had just gotten himself into. Getting booked to stay in cement rooms, prison wall etiquette, and breaking out was probably the main thing Steelbeak knew the most about (aside from fighting in general) and normally he’d pride himself but now, under Fethry’s curious gaze he didn’t feel so proud. He rubbed the back of his head nervously and avoided eye contact. “Prison?” He nodded lightly, turning back to peel another potato but didn’t move his hands, just hovered the knife above it. Fethry didn’t know anything about him and Steelbeak wished he could unlock his beak now more than ever so he could explain and defend himself. Fethry brought a pot out, placed it on the stove and dropped the spiral into it. “The skin has a lot of nutrients in it, so I’m still going to add it to the stew if you don’t mind. I mean, I have to run it through a blender anyways.” Steelbeak felt like shrinking again as his mind started running because of course his action was worthless! He rubbed his forehead, exasperated, thinking of course we’d just keep the skin, of course we must blend it because of his stupid beak! Heron was right, how useless could he be! Fethry stayed quiet while a small rain cloud seemed to form over the larger bird. He gathered his own thoughts before picking up a potato and another paring knife, then repeatedly looked at Steelbeak’s hands back to his own and shifted his fingers to mirror the larger bird’s grip of the knife. He moved his pointer finger to the back of the blade and wiggled his thumb next to it, slowly rocking the knife into the skin but could only pull some small patches off. Steelbeak stared for a moment, only blinking a few times at Fethry struggling to peel the root before he understood what was happening. He looked back to his own hands and slowly started to peel the other potato, careful to have his fingers in the right position. He couldn’t really teach someone how to do this, even if he could speak, but he tapped his thumb at the front of the knife’s blade to show how it guides under the skin. He did it slow enough so Fethry could see and Fethry did, silently following his guidance. As they moved onto more veggies, Steelbeak had more tricks to show with the knives and all Fethry had was a smile and time to encourage those tricks. The rain cloud above Steelbeak’s head disappeared and Fethry pretended not to see it in the first place.

#fethsteel #fanfic #AU #writing

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gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years

Text

Gale Reviews: Cobra Kai Seasons 1 +2

(Thanks @knightsweeties)

So I should mention that I love 80′s movies. And one of my favorite movies of all time is the cliché OG Karate Kid.

With the best mentor character of all time in movies, Mr. Miyagi.

So when Youtube announced a sequel series based off of that iconic movie with the RIVAL being the main character. You bet I was ready to watch it... until I found out you had to pay for it on Youtube red. So naturally I waited until it was Netflix. Then I finally had a chance to watch it (legally)

So now that I have watched the series in its entirety. I have some thoughts on it.

Which you can read below (spoiler warning if you haven't seen the series. I recommend having a watch)

The Plot.

I will say that Season 1 and Season 2 have entirely different feels to them.

To put it briefly

Season 1 takes place with Johnny Lawrence, a guy in his 50′s hitting rock bottom, living paycheck to paycheck as a repair guy, and still stuck in the past.

Everything changes when he ends up inadvertently saving a kid, Miguel. from some bullies using his Cobra Kai karate.

Johnny realizes that he still has a passion for karate, and wants to bring back Cobra Kai, but without the psycho of a teacher involved.

So Johnny becomes the sensei of Miguel and the two’s dynamic is like that of Miyagi and Daniel (the original master and student of Karate kid) but with some hilarious contrasts and snaps that make fun of the movie in a fun way. In a way, the season starts off like Karate kid, but keeps changing one’s expectations of characters.

It even has the last episode ending with a final bout between Johnny’s student Miguel and Daniel (the original Karate kid’s) Pupil, Robby (who also happens to be Johnny’s own son). So the tension between the two are high.

Season 2 takes place AFTER the All valley tournament and Cobra kai is rising. Now with the inclusion of a man long assumed dead coming back, Daniel now trying to get Miyagi do as a real dojo to compete against Cobra kai. Tension starts to build and it seems like a war is brewing, the events culminating in a legit all out brawl on the First day back at school, with an ending that really makes me want a season two.

Season 1 is about preconceptions. Johnny and Daniel’s actions are based on their own preconceived notions, People let the past dictate how things are when that isn't the truth. Daniel automatically assume’s Johnny is up to no good because of his personal dealings with Cobra kai, and Johnny believe’s Daniel is at fault for everything awful that has happened to him, thus resulting in each of them indirectly attacking one another intentionally or unintentionally. They even try to reconcile only for Johnny to find out Daniel was training his son in karate, which Daniel actually didn't know was his kid, but this broke any trust the other have.

Season 2 is about Perspective, Almost everyone acts based on their own views on how things went down in their head. Everyone takes these perspectives as facts and there is no way the other person can be right, until a third party gets involved. And just like in the first season, Johnny and Daniel almost reconcile again, only to their views blinding them to the truth.

___________________

The characters:

I think I will just list off the main ones with their own arcs in the show and tell you all my thoughts on each of them.

Johnny Lawrence: Johnny is best described as a man stuck in the past, both technologically and mentally. He is a jerk, and considering his a**hole step dad and the psycho Karate teacher Kreese, he didn't have good role models on how to be a man. He pretty much screwed up his chances of being a dad to his biological son Robby, and spent half his life drunk and the other half depressed and angry. The day he saved Miguel and reformed Cobra Kai was the day that helped him start turning things around. Miguel became the student that helped bring him back into the modern day, helping him recruit students to his dojo, and even helping him deal with his hang ups regarding his failures with his son robby. Johnny is by no means perfect, but he is trying to be a better person. He is kind of like that out of touch uncle that is ignorant of a lot of things but is slowly getting used to it. He is tough, but he cares. Honestly the best adult character in the series with how hard he tries to actually be better but life just keeps kicking him down.

Miguel Diaz: a young boy who Johnny has been teaching to fight. At the start of the show, he had ZERO confidence, and felt like a nobody new kid in a town. Learning Karate helped give Miguel confidence and allowed him to stand up to the bullies that messed with him. Miguel is a good kid, in fact, he is my favorite Character in the series. In season 1, he was awkward, and unsure of himself. But as the first season went on, he managed to ask out the girl he liked, and even made good friends. Though Miguel started to pick up a lot of similar habits to Johnny from the original Karate kid, albeit directly and indirectly from his sensei. But season 2 quickly shows Johnny doing everything to make sure that doesn't happen. Miguel becomes the most civil of Cobra kai, becoming a more refined fighter and even a better person then any of the other students in either dojo. Thus making the end of season 2 so much more tragic and not even his fault.

Daniel LaRusso: The original Karate kid. A car dealership owner, and family man. He was living his best life, lovely wife, two good kids, and just enjoying every minute of it, until Cobra Kai came back. We get to see a lot of Daniel from Johnny’s perspective and the reveal is, he was just as much of a jerk as Johnny was back in the day. Even kind of a stuck up a**hole that tries to destroy Cobra kai through underhanded methods like having the landowner raise the rent, or stopping him from entering the All valley tournament. It isn't until he starts training Robby that Daniel starts to act like the man that we expect the main character of Karate Kid to act like.

Amanda LaRusso: Daniel's wife, She is great. She also has the most braincells out of everyone. She calls Daniel out on his crap and without her Daniel probably wouldn't be as good of a character as he is.

Robby Keene: Johnny's street-smart son and Daniel’s karate protege. At the start of the series, Robby is a bad kid, skipping school, drugs, stealing, and running with a bad group of kids. Robby really didn't care about his life choices or his loser father. He did however care about his mother, who was busy trying to have her own fun and neglecting him. it wasn't until he started learning Karate from Daniel, (originally working at the dealership to Spite his dad) did he start to turn things around. Robby hid the fact that he was Johnny’s kid from the LaRusso family and the developments in the first season resulted in a dramatic irony. In season two, his interest in Samantha (Sam), started to cause problems especially near the end of season 2. Robby is also another complex character and he is an amazing Parallel to Miguel. Robby keeps wanting the things that Miguel seemed to get, and always seemed to fall short, much like Daniel and Johnny’s rivalry in the original Karate kid. This has Robby holding back information that he does come clean about later.

Samantha LaRusso: Daniel's daughter. The most experienced Martial artist of the teens since she grew up with it. She is much like the love interest in the series in season 1 and becomes more of her own character in season 2.

Okay, so I am going to flat out say this. She is an awful person. Like at first, she ditches her friend to hang out with the popular crowd, lies to her parents about a hit and run, hides the fact that she is dating Miguel from her parents because his is Cobra Kai. I can forgive some of the things as an honest mistake, and in season 1 I can even look past some of them, since she does do the right thing about standing up to Kyler over his BS But the OTHER STUFF?

Sneaking around with Robby who is living in her house at the time because of a family situation which is a MASSIVE betrayal of trust. Accuses Tory of stealing from her mom, attacks Tory at the roller rank over a shove, ignores Miguel’s apologies and actions to at least try and clear the air only to KISS him when he is in a relationship with another girl. The list goes on. Now context matters, and then there is the whole situation in episode 9. Now Miguel was drunk and trying to fight robby, (like an idiot who thinks a guy is trying to steal his gf) and it resulted in Sam getting hit, which Miguel was mortified that it happened. But a lot of people are divided on whose fault it is, I really think Miguel shouldn't be throwing punches so in that regard, he was in the wrong. Now unrelated, Sam was in the wrong in pretty much every other situation she was in.

Aisha Robinson: The second student of cobra kai, that went from an insecure nerd to a legit sassy confident bada**. Giving one of the stuck up popular girls the greatest karmic punishment. She is tough and knows her own worth. She is also another voice of reason character in season two.

Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz : And the award for most changed character is Hawk. A quiet kid with a scar from a cleft lip surgery left him the target of vicious bullying. Dimetri was his only friend, until he ‘Flipped the Script.’ Gets a mohawk and a back tattoo after embracing Cobra Kai. He becomes a legit bada**. As the season goes on, he does become more and more Aggro, his confidence now coming off more as arrogance and lashing out. By season 2, he starts taking lessons from Kreese and when his mohawk went Red, the old good Eli was dead. He is the prime example of how dangerous Cobra kai can be when one has bad guidance. Blue Hawk, fun, cool, still figuring out how to be a bada**. Red Hawk, irredeemable prick

Demetri: sarcastic and Neurotic, he saw things in the worst light, a natural whiner that really began his road to development in season 2, his friendship turned bitter rivalry is quite fascinating. Though the GOT references did not age well.

Tory Nichols: Certifiable Bad girl. She joins Cobra Kai and she is easily one of the most interesting characters in the show. She becomes Aisha’s new best friend and immediately butts heads with Sam. She ends up dating Miguel and Sam’s actions result in Tory declaring war on the daughter of Larusso. She is the catalyst of a lot of developments.

John Kreese: The sensei of Johnny, there is a LOT of beef between the two, but Johnny actually saw how broken of a man Kreese was and tried to help him despite their rough past. But Kreese only had one thing on his mind, revenge. The show actually shows how much more conniving and cruel Kreese is, even more then the movie. Kreese has been in wait a LONG time and he wants to crush Miyagi do once and for all.

____________________________

The Action and Acting.

I will say the acting on the part of the characters is pretty good. The dialogue can be a touch hammy at times, but when it involves Johnny, you can tell its genuine. All the characters in the original Karate kid movie really show how connected they are despite it being over 30 years.

The fighting Choreography is also fun and gets even better in season 2.

My favorite fights being Miguel vs Kyler and the boys In Season one episode 5, Miguel vs Robby Season 1 episode 10, and Season 2 episode 10 the school brawl.

Honorable mention is the Bar fight in season 2 with the older cobra kai alums.

_________________________________________

Overall:

The show can be a bit much for some people, its crass and its more teens and adults audience, but I highly recommend watching if a fan of Karate kid, or just want something interesting to watch.

I give it a solid 8/10 and I look forward to seeing season 3.

#karate kid #cobra kai #Gale reviews #Youtube originals #interesting show #review #gale talks

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

More Than Words (Twenty-Eight)

Ho ho holy crap did this chapter get long. Like the rough draft hit over 11k words?? I love it though. Love Wade in the future/present, love the people he finds again, love the scene with Hank and Tony and of course, love love that ending!

MASTERLIST HERE

****************

The docks were abandoned along this part of the East River, the buildings falling to pieces and the twisting alleys the sort of place no one wanted to be caught alone in. The river stank here, slow moving and sluggish and wafting the smell of the city through punched out windows and falling down doors. Trash was left wherever it fell, rats didn’t bother to hide in shadows and corners and fuck Cable hated this town, this timeline and all the awful things about it.

The joints and gears in his left arm whirred and strained as they re-calibrated to balance two hundred plus pounds of dead weight Alpha, and Cable grunted as he tried to balance Wade in his arms while shouldering through a heavy door.

This particular warehouse looked abandoned from the outside but the inside was clean and sheltered from the weather and river stink and that was all that really mattered. Cable visited this timeline as little as possible and lingered even less, but he still needed a half decent hideaway. The only good thing about this time line was the technology available to improvise repairs or restock ammunition, and this place was as good as any other to to rest, replenish and in this case-- stash an unexpected body.

The massive empty space had been converted into a utilitarian living space, no frills, no mess, absolutely nothing unnecessary. Cable had turned the upstairs office into a bedroom and bathroom, built a small but functional kitchen beneath the metal stairs, and left a smattering of couches, chairs and various gear around the rest of the floor. Each door had a series of locks and barricades across it, the most secure door opened via password and optical scans, and in the worst case scenarios, the entire place would lock down and spray gas on whoever had made the grave mistake of breaking into Cable’s territory.

It was certainly not fancy, but it was safe and it would do for now.

“Hey.” A voice from one of the chairs in the shadow of the walls, low and soft and familiar. “Hey, is that him? Is that Wade?”

“You expecting me to bring anyone else to this shit hole?” Cable was careful to keep any bite from his tone even though his lip curled up in annoyance. “Move your pack so I can lay him out.”

The Omega moved forward on heavy feet, shoulders tense and eyes narrowed in Cable’s direction as he approached. “Is he alright?”

“Dunno yet.”

It had taken the better part of an entire day to track down this particular mutant, and not even Cable’s telepathic abilities had found any trace of the near-feral Omega anywhere near where he’d expected. This timeline had been hard to it’s mutants and even twenty years into the twenty first century, those who could afford to stay invisible simply stayed invisible.

It was odd though, to see the difference between the Omega now and how he’d been just the day before--the century before?-- when Cable had seen him in Haven. Back then the Omega had walked lightly, smiled easily for his mate and though he always scented wild, there had always been a sweeter edge that marked him as Omega, the bolder ribbons that marked him as mated.

Now the Omega smelled like wild and danger and steel, his gait almost lumbering until he broke into runs of astonishing speeds, his fists perpetually clenched because his hands were too heavy to simply hang at his sides. The scowl was permanent, the surly attitude all the worse for what the decades had done to him and even though there wasn’t an ounce of fear in the Omega’s eyes, Cable still knew him well enough to know he was worried.

“Weird for you?” the mutant asked as he set the other Alpha down lengthwise on the couch. “To see him like this, I mean.”

“You mean is it weird to know my friend disappeared some fuck’all number of years ago and now I’m looking at him again?” the Omega raised one eyebrow in what might have been sarcasm in an otherwise blank expression. “What do you think?”

“Well s’bout to get weirder.” Cable stated, and reached down to pull his cloak from Wade’s face and head. “The journey wasn’t real kind to him.”

“Shit.” the big Omega knelt by Wade’s side and ran hesitant fingers along the patchwork lines of raised scars and ruined skin covering the mutants body. “Jesus, what the hell happened to him? Looks like he was torn apart a bunch of different times and stitched back together. I thought you were gonna protect him!”

Cable swallowed back a wash of guilt and muttered, “I promised to protect his mind but time travel is rough and I didn’t know how it would affect his body. Doc Banner’s biology shut down completely when I yanked him, I had no idea what Wade’s would do.”

“He’s lucky he survived.” the other mutant whispered. “Gotta hurt like a bitch.”

“That’s why I kept him unconscious.” Cable said grimly, “He wouldn’t stop screaming so I tapped into his psyche and shut it down. Dunno if he’s survived yet or not but I have to wake him soon to make sure his mental faculties survived the trip. You ready to help in case he flips out? A familiar face might do him some good.”

“A familiar face.” the Omega finally cracked the tiniest smile. “Don’t think my face is the one he wants to see. Last thing he said was that he was going to find his mate, he’ll be real pissed you brought him here and not to his Omega.”

“I’ve got to make sure he’ll keep it together long enough to get to his mate.” Cable flattened his palm to Wade’s forehead and concentrated on removing the blocks he’d put up in the Alpha’s mind. “Couldn’t bring him right to the kid. What if he wakes up raving mad or half gone feral or in too much pain to do much more than scream? Don’t want to do that to his mate.”

“Think his mate might be the one screaming when he catches sight of all this.” the Omega gestured to Wade’s skin again, to the bold scars and heavy lines and patchwork attempts at healing. “Wade’s never been a pretty Alpha but he’s never been this bad. Looks like something awful did something awful to something else awful.”

“Eloquent and completely unhelpful.” Cable said shortly. “Get up here and get close so he can see you.” the Omega moved and Cable hastened to add, “Not too close though, Omega. Be careful.”

“Not a whole lot that hurts me these days.” the Omega made a fist, then raised his middle finger pointedly. “Not real worried about my buddy breaking any bones.”

“Grief makes monsters of us all.” the mutant pulled away from Wade to make room. “He put me through a damn log wall in a fit of mate sickness, we don’t know what he could do now with this much hurt running through him.”

“Not real worried.” the Omega repeated, and then to Wade, “Wake up you son of a bitch. You got a mate to find and some skin cream to buy and hell--” another one of those tiny smiles. “-- hell I’ve been waiting a damn century and some change to see if you made it this far so hurry up and open your eyes.”

First came the Alpha’s scent, weak cedar and thready licorice that grew steadily stronger as Wade left the coma behind and came towards consciousness. Then a bolt of distress sharp enough to make the Omega whimper as Wade’s body lit up with pain, his back arching and fingers scrabbling at the couch upholstery as his ravaged skin and torn nerves seized, jolts of agony skittering through his veins and shocking at his heart.

“Shit.” Cable muttered when Wade’s mouth opened in a wordless, wounded cry and the hazel eyes burst bright red and panicked as the Alpha tried to figure out what hurt and why it hurt and where the hell he was.

“Easy easy easy.” The Omega rushed forward and grabbed onto Wade’s forearms, holding the Alpha down and steady so he could lean close and force the hazy gaze to focus on him. “Wade. Wade! You with us? You with me? Look at me, Wade look at me right here. Hey hey hey you’re alright. You’re alright.”

Every muscle in Wade’s body went tense as he prepared to fight away from whoever was holding him down so the Omega set his jaw and just held tighter. He was big, but no matter his modifications and mostly feral spirit there was still no way he could hold back a raging Alpha. His only hope would be to knock Wade out again before either one got hurt and he didn’t know what a solid clonk across the head would do to his friend so soon after time travel.

“Wade.” he growled in frustration. “Settle down so I don’t gotta punch ya! Settle down!”

There were the fangs, wicked and curving as the Alpha jerked against the hold and snarled, a howl starting deep in his chest as his mind failed to come online and pure instinct took over--

--but then--

--”L-Logan?”

The red eyes flattened back to hazel, cedar and licorice bumping first with confusion, then disbelief. “Logan? S’that you?”

“Hey.” Logan didn’t let go but his hold on Wade’s arm gentled as he tried for a real smile for his long lost friend. “Bout time you showed up. Been waiting like a hundred and fifty years.”

“A hundred and fifty years.” Struggling to stay alert and coherent, Wade licked at his dry lips as his gaze darted around the warehouse before landing at Cable and bouncing back to the Omega. “Does that mean-- did it work? Is this my mate’s timeline?”

“This is your mate’s timeline.” Logan confirmed quietly. “Welcome to the future.”

“Damn it.” The Alpha shuddered as a fresh wave of discomfort bubbled through his center. “Damn it, this is-- why do I hurt so bad?”

Logan opened his mouth to reply, but Wade cut him off with, “And why does my future include you? Went a hundred and fifty years forward to get away from your ass, how are you here?”

“Good to see your sparkling personality wasn’t damaged.” Logan retorted, and Wade snapped back, “It was time travel, not a miracle, Logan.”

“Yeah that’s true.” the Omega’s throat jerked as he swallowed, and he lay a careful careful hand at the base of Wade’s neck, leaned in to push their foreheads together and trilled in quiet relief when the Alpha gripped at him with tight affection.

A hundred and fifty years Logan had wondered what had happened to his friend, gone through decades of double taking when he saw someone who might be Wade, moments of frustration when he realized he didn’t know how far forward Cable had taken the Alpha from Haven, or if Wade had even survived the trip.

After Haven had burned and Logan had buried Clint behind their home, after Bruce and Eddie had fled somewhere far away from the accusations of monsters and demons, after Logan’s entire life had changed and he found himself alone without friends, without his brother and without his mate he would have given anything just to know what happened to Wade, much less to see him again.

There was shared camaraderie in knowing someone else understood what it meant to outlive everyone you loved, there was relief knowing that someone else had once woken up the only person alive on a battlefield of horrors, healing time and time again from wounds that would have ended a lesser man and less powerful mutant. Logan had been left solitary in a society rapidly changing to hate his kind, a world that seemed to get smaller every time technology took a leap forward and when Cable had called just the other day and asked him to come to Queens to help with Wade--

-- well the Omega had put aside decades of misgivings about the city, about humans, about Cable, and rushed down from the border mountains to get here. He almost hadn’t believed Cable would actually show up, but here the mutant was with one of Logan’s oldest friends and for the first time in a long time, the world felt like it was shifting back towards right again.

“M’real glad to see you, Wade.” he finally finished, and the Alpha nodded against him. “Swear t’hell I never thought I’d be happy to see your ugly mug, but damn. Damn I’m glad you’re here.”

“Just once I’d like you to say something nice to me without adding an insult at the end.” Wade was shaking now, the hurt getting too strong to ignore, the effects of time travel leaving him drained, exhausted. “Just once. Tell me you’re happy to see me without calling me ugly.”

“Never.” Logan said decisively, but he tipped his head and crooned when the Alpha’s shaking got worse. “Hey hey hey, it’s going to be okay, alright? You made it and it’s-- it’s going to be okay.”

He looked over Wade’s shoulder to find Cable, who was watching with a grim expression and yellow eye flickering as it scanned Wade’s body to take bio-metric readings.

“It’s going to be okay.” the Omega repeated, and Cable gave a short, begrudging nod.

They couldn’t tell for sure yet of course, but it looked like everything had worked out. The Alpha had made it through the journey in one piece, his snark and sarcasm was firmly in place so at least most of Wade’s mind had survived, and while his scent was currently shredded with pain, the cedar and licorice notes were strong and steady.

It was going to be okay. Wade was going to be reunited with his mate and maybe then the guilt would stop eating Cable from the inside out.

It was going to be okay.

***************

It took a solid hour for the itch and burn of Wade’s newly awful skin to subside enough to be tolerable, and even then the Alpha’s fingers still shook as he traced over and over the layers of scars. He’d been violently sick in the bathroom when he’d caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and yes, the nausea could be attributed to having been ripped forward a century and a half, yes it could be attributed to the way Wade’s senses were operating dialed to eleven-- too much input all at once, far too fast for his brain to ingest and comprehend.

There were a number of reasons for the Alpha to be sick into the porcelain bowl but the worst reason was the horror clanging round in Wade’s mind and keeping his eyes shut tight against what he was seeing.

Wade was a horror show now, and his Omega wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. He had never been pretty, but now he was hideous. It had been a long time since Wade had put any thought into his looks but today he cracked the mirror with his fist because he didn’t recognize the red eyed monster staring back at him through the glass.

Peter would scream when he saw him, and that would break the Alpha to pieces.

“I told you I’d protect your mind.” Cable reappeared from a quiet conference with Logan, watching as Wade drew over the lifted lines and ragged edges time and time again. “I didn’t know this would happen, but I figured so long as I could keep your sanity intact, it wouldn’t matter what your body went through.”

“Besides, wasn’t like you were ever pretty, this isn’t even half bad.” Logan had been an asshole back in Haven and he was an asshole now, but his bump at Wade’s shoulder was light and he pressed close on the couch until they were thigh to thigh and some of the Alpha’s trembling eased next to the comforting scent of an Omega. “And your mate loves you, he won’t notice anything. If he does notice, he won’t care. We never care what our Alphas look like so long as they hold us the same.”

“You smell stupid.” Wade changed the subject before he broke down, folding his arms and huddling further under the blanket so he could hide the urge to scream. “Why do you smell like that? Like metal and-- and I dunno. Heavy. You smell heavy.”

“Probably cos of these.” Logan lifted his hand and clenched his fist and Wade jumped when instead of the skin crawling schhhhhhtk of bone claws sliding free, three metal blades schwinged out from the Omega’s knuckles and snapped into shape in the air.

“What the fuck?” The shock of his skin and need to scream pushed aside, Wade reached out to touch on of the razor sharp edges, mouthing a curse when his finger split along the blade and then healed right back over. “What did you do?”

And then with a quick check of the misery reflected in the Omega’s eyes, Wade corrected, “Who did it to you?”

“Some asshole by the name of Stryker.” Logan put the claws away and rotated his wrist so Wade could hear the pop of not flesh grinding in the bone socket. “I’d like to say I was naive and didn’t realize what he was asking, but the truth is I didn’t think I had anything left to lose so I signed up for his shop of fuckin’ horrors.”

“Shit.”

“Be glad you got zapped forward and didn’t have to go through everything the rest of us did.” the Omega said quietly. “It got real shitty in Haven a few years after you disappeared and damn Wade, things just never got better. This world doesn’t like our kind unless we’re fighting their wars or funding their science and even then we aren’t much more than dirt in their eyes.”

“So is the shiny new hardware for war or for science?” Wade wanted to know and Logan’s scent slid sour as he answered, “They wanted me for both. I ran away so now I’m neither. The metal is all through my body and I’m damn near indestructible so that’s something at least. Can cut through anything you think of, head butt like a champ and nothing shuts down an argument like flippin’ them the bird with one of these things.”

“Huh.” Wade tried for a smirk. “Well I heard the couch springs begging for mercy when you sat down. What do you weigh these days? Half a ton?”

“You really gonna fuss at me about my weight?” Logan snorted. “Wanna see if your super healing can handle a punch now that I’ve got a perma-set of brass knuckles?”

The Alpha grinned and snarked right back, “All this shiny hardware and you’re still a brawler, still a half feral son of a --”

“Don’t talk to my mate like that.” the security door of the building opened and shut to let another Alpha through and Wade’s eyes flew open wide when Clint hurried over to haul Logan off the couch and up into his arms. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing cozying up to my mate? Lo, you okay?”

Clint.

Wade forgot to answer, too busy staring at the only one of his friends from Haven he knew wouldn’t have survived this long. All mutants had something of a healing factor, but Clint had been pushing middle aged by the time Wade had said goodbye so there was no way the winged mutant was still around.

But here he was, large as life and just as protective of his Omega as he’d always been, eyes flashing red and teeth bared in a snarl and--

--and oh. No, that wasn’t quite right. This Clint wasn’t exactly the Clint Wade used to know, was he?

The Alpha currently nuzzling at Logan’s neck and trilling in response to whatever the Omega whispered back was a little taller than Wade remembered, the blue eyes a little more intense. There were no fangs, none of the scars at the Alpha’s knuckles from years with his bow. Most obvious was the lack of visible wings, but at this angle Wade could just barely see inked feathers along the other Alpha’s arms and disappearing beneath his shirt collar to most likely extend down his back.

The ink shimmered too much to be plain, the delicately drawn feathers shifting and moving with every breath the Alpha took, and Wade’s smile was equal parts grateful and awed when he finally figured it out. “Didn’t get the whole feather deal this time around huh? Big ol’ wings too conspicuous for this timeline?”

“The feathers come and go.” Clint retorted, a fraction of suspicion in his voice as a few inked feathers took on dimension and lifted off his forearms to flutter before settling again. “And yeah the humans tend don’t like me walking around with wings out. You get it, you probably don’t go out without a damn mask, huh?”

The Alpha didn’t mean any harm with his blase comment, but Wade grimaced away anyway and Logan muttered, “The scarring happened in the time travel, my mate. It’s not how he usually looks.”

“Oh shit.” Clint’s windy scent swooped in remorse. “Shit, I’m sorry. I thought you were--” he gestured to his own face. “You know, mutants. The ones with scales cover up so I thought maybe--”

Wade cleared his throat and shook his head, covering a jolt of newly sharp self consciousness with the motion. “S’alright. You didn’t know.”

“Right. Cos I’m not the same Clint you used to be friends with.” Clint nosed over Logan's cheek and then lightly pushed his Omega away, moving closer to crouch in front of the sofa and get a better look at Wade. “Lo says you’re an un-killable asshole and I always one-upped you in everything.”

“Lo’s a damn liar.” Wade grunted and the feathers on Clint’s arms shimmered as he laughed. “Good to see the two of you together again. Or--or still.”

“Every lifetime, apparently.” the other Alpha confirmed. “Guess it’s all one lifetime to you and my mate, but this is at least the second time I’ve come around.”

“Time travel thing freak you out?” Wade wanted to know, and Clint countered, “Nah. I’ve seen some weird shit in my day. What’s freaking me out is how calm you are considering this--” another motion around his face. “-- is new and that somehow you came all this way through time and aren’t halfway to buck wild trying to get to your mate. What’s going on, you okay?”

My mate. A surge of longing had Wade screwing his eyes shut tight and clenching his fist, trying and failing to quiet a growl. “Can’t even hardly stand.” he bit out. “Gotta have my feet under me before I can see my Omega.”

“The hell with that.” Clint snorted, and snapped his fingers at Cable. “Hey! Why can’t Wade see his mate? Bring the Omega here or do that time slidey thing and take Wade over there. What’s the hold up?”

“He needs to sleep first.” the mutant spoke for the first time in several minutes, eyes flickering again as he took another reading of Wade’s vitals. “Wade, you need at least a solid twelve hours of sleep, longer if you can manage it. Journeying takes a toll on a body and you’ve got more to heal from than we expected. Sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” Wade pushed away the choking fear that Peter would think he was ugly and insisted, “I want to see my mate. Give me a minute to get my legs under me and stop feelin’ nauseous and let’s go.”

“You need to sleep.” Cable didn’t budge an inch. “I’ll force you down if I have to, but it’s more restorative if you just let your body relax. Then I’ll take you to see Doctor Pym so he can run a few tests and make sure you aren’t a day from imploding or melting or anything else terrible that can happen when you jump into a timeline other than your own.”

“Plus there’s a whole lot you need to learn about this world.” Logan interjected. “Suppressants and blockers so you don’t freak anyone out. Caps for your fangs so you don’t scare the Omegas. We can figure out something for your skin, you’ll need clothes and a chance for your body to acclimate to the new food here-- I looked some stuff up waiting for Cable to arrive. There’s a lot you should know, Wade. Lots has changed.”

“All I need to know is where my mate is.” the Alpha struggled to his feet, and Clint muffled a curse when he got a good look at the devastation of Wade’s bare torso. “Just tell me where he is so I can find him.”

“Wade.” Cable tried again, talking over Wade’s frustrated growl. “You can’t just walk around out there, not looking and scenting like you do. Mutants aren’t-- they don’t exist in this timeline, alright? You can’t just go out there, you’ll cause a panic.”

“M’looking at three mutants right now, what the hell do you mean we don’t exist!?”

“We all stay hidden.” Clint instinctively flattened his palm to the small of Wade’s back when the Alpha wavered on his feet and fell back onto the couch. “Me and Lo never come down from our property unless it’s an emergency. The school in Westchester is shrouded from the humans by a telepathic field and only a select few know about it. Everyone uses blockers and suppressants and the mutants use extra strength ones so our scent doesn’t give us away.”

“Okay but--”

“They hunted us down and killed us, Wade.” Logan cut back in and Wade’s mouth clicked shut with an audible pop. “Rounded us up on trains and shipped us to death camps. Ran through neighborhoods and killed anyone who resisted. About fifty years ago in this timeline, the mutants all decided to just disappear and for the most part, we’ve been in hiding ever since.”

“Your mate was researching the disappearances and trying to find the truth.” Cable added. “That’s how he met me. Humans in this timeline think we’re gone, and it’s better to leave it that way.”

Wade was quiet as he tried to process their words, running his tongue over his fangs thoughtfully and pressing at the edge of one particularly bad scar directly down his arm. He looked up at Logan and Clint-who-wasn’t-quite-Clint and then over at Cable who looked ready to tackle him if he didn’t go to sleep right that instant.

“I’ve got to see my mate.” he finally said. “That all-- that all sucks. And I sorta remember Pete telling me that he’d never met a mutant cos we weren’t around anymore but I don’t care how I scent or what people think. They’re welcome to try and come at me, anyone who gets between me and my mate right now is gonna get their head torn off.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It is always that easy!” the Alpha snarled, and the table cracked beneath the force of his fist. “You said you couldn’t guarantee me much time here and I’m real happy to see you guys--” he managed a half smile towards Clint and Logan. “-- but you’re not who I’m here to be with. Cable. Take me to my mate now. I’ve been awake at least a couple hours now so let’s go.”

“First you sleep, then you see the doctor, then you see your mate.” Cable didn’t so much as flinch away from a flash of fangs. “You do this the right way or I’ll force you back into a coma. Don’t be stupid about it.”

“Cable--”

“I didn’t bring you all the way here for you to fuck it up and die cos you won’t listen!” the mutants voice echoed through the warehouse, a growl rumbling at the end of the words. “Not gonna let you scar your mate by dying in front of him cos you didn’t want to wait and do some damn tests! You will go to sleep--”

Wade started forward and snarled and Cable nearly roared-- “You will go to sleep or I will put you to sleep like a goddamn dog, Wade! I feel guilty enough about all this, you will not make it worse by dying!”

Guilty.

Logan’s eyes went very wide and Clint’s brow lowered as he glanced between the two other Alphas. “What does that mean, you feel guilty enough? What did you have to do with any of this?”

“It’s my fault that Omega ended up in Haven in the first place.” Cable didn’t break his stare down with Wade. “I went to warn him about investigating the mutants, things got out of hand and he ended up grabbing onto my time travel device. It’s always set to 1872 Haven because that’s when my--”

He stopped, jaw working as he tried to calm down. “It’s my fault he was ever there. And I had to correct that by taking him away and I’m sorry about it, alright? I’m sorry you found him and sorry that you lost him but I had to save him and the only way I could was to bring him home. The only way to save you was to bring you here too and I know you want to see your Omega but I’m not taking you there until I know you’re going to survive long enough not to ruin his life, do you understand? I won’t take you to him just so you can die right there on the floor.”

“Wade met his mate because of an accidental time travel?” Clint whispered to his mate and Logan whispered back, “It’s a long story.”

“Go to sleep, or I’ll drop your ass into a coma and do all the tests while you’re unconscious.” the mutant ground out. “This is for your own good, for the good of your Omega and so help me God I will not be made to feel guilty about one more thing for your obnoxious ass. My conscience will be clear after this.”

There was a tense moment of silence, Clint and Logan holding their breath while Wade’s lip curled up in a snarl and Cable leaned his weight forward with an answering growl but finally finally, Wade put his hands up and sat back onto the couch and the moment released with a whoosh.

“Good.” Cable looked visibly relieved. He was still sore from being thrown through that goddamn cabin wall and he didn’t relish another run around with the mate-sick Alpha. “I have to take care of a few things and I’ll be back for you. Clint, you and your mate be sure he doesn’t leave.”

“He’ll get three steps out that door, smell the river and the pollution and come right back.” Logan decided with a friendly-yet-staying hand at Wade’s shoulder. “We’re fine. Leave before you keep stressin’ us out.”

Cable paused and met Wade’s eyes just one more time, waiting for the Alpha to nod before he moved on.

It would be okay.

Somehow all of this would be okay.

*************

Wade slept for nineteen hours while Logan kept watch, and when the Omega got tired Clint took over monitoring the other Alpha’s pulse and breathing to be sure he didn’t slip too far under and never make it back around.

At the nineteen hour mark, Wade woke up screaming for his Omega, eyes screwed shut and mouth open in a heart broken cry. Logan recoiled from the noise, turning his back and hunching his shoulders because even after all the horrors he’d seen and torture he’d been through at Stryker’s hands the scent of an Alpha in pain-- an Alpha he cared about-- still made him want to throw up.

Clint let his wings up from his skin and flared them out to cover Wade in comfort, golden brown ink forming to feathers and piecing together before laying over the distraught Alpha in a thick blanket. When that didn’t help enough, the mutant put careful hands on Wade’s chest and bent close to rumble in the Alpha’s ear until Wade finally settled. Seven hours later when Wade woke up fully, he muttered a quiet, “Thank you.” to other Alpha and Clint let his wings flutter free in a quiet response.

“This is a blocker.” After Wade had managed some food, Logan sat down across from him with a pile of pills and sorted them out on the table. “It mutes other people’s scents and emotions so you don’t get too affected. Out in public and an Omega has a panic attack? Usually that would send every Alpha in the area into a protective frenzy but the blockers make sure you don’t lose your mind over it. Another Alpha rages out for some reason and the blockers make sure you don’t react and start a brawl in the middle of the street.”

Wade nodded and the Omega held up the next one. “This is a suppressant, it keeps you muted so other people can’t read you too close. Blue for blocker keeps you calm, yellow for suppressant keeps others calm. You take both, every single day.”

“For how long?” Wade eyed the pills suspiciously. “How long do I gotta take them?”

“Every day.” Logan repeated. “For the rest of your life. These big white ones are what the mutants take when we come into the city or just out into real crowded places. Double the dose and I’ve got to take two of them at a time cos my system eats it up too quick. You’ll have to do the same.”

“The hell--”

“Mutant smells different than Alpha.” Clint cut in. “And you smell wild like Lo and I do. You smell hurt and like you don’t fit in-- you gotta mask it or people will start acting real weird. Take the double dose.”

Wade stared down at the medication and tried not to let his voice shake when he asked, “But what if my mate doesn’t recognize me?”

He didn’t like this, didn’t like feeling so out of his element and so out of his world.

When Peter had come to Haven, Wade had been perfectly comfortable letting the Omega into his life and the way Peter had reacted to all the necessary adjustments had been almost funny. Screeching about being a vegan because he didn’t know chickens only lay one egg at a time. Insisting that Wade explain trapping and hunting because Peter was worried it was inhumane. All the times the Omega’s eyes had gone wide and cheeks turned scarlet when he could read Wade’s scent and know the Alpha needed him.

Wade had handled Peter’s questions with a laugh and light assurances, he’d settled most of his mate’s frustrations and insecurities with a quick kiss or an extra long hug and Peter had fit so easily into Wade’s day to day that after a few weeks Wade had forgotten the Omega didn’t actually belong.

When Wade had packed a bag and left Haven behind he’d never put any thought into whether or not he’d fit into Peter’s world. He hadn’t thought about the technology Peter used to mention or the suppressants the Omega had referenced or the life Peter had left behind that he had talked about missing. He had never considered that Peter’s life might have moved on once he returned to this timeline and that maybe the Omega wouldn’t have room for an old fashioned mutant Alpha anymore.

All Wade had thought about as Cable tore him through space and time was how badly he wanted to gather his Omega up over his heart, how sweet Peter’s purr would be when they got to scent each other again, the tang of aphrodisia on his tongue when he got to mark his mate again and again and again.

But this? Avoiding mirrors because of the mess on his face and dodging pitying glances neither Clint nor Logan managed to hide? The uncomfortable that ran beneath his skin and throbbed in his veins, the itch that never seemed to settle, the noise of a city outside the warehouse doors that was larger than he could possibly imagine, filled with more people he had ever seen, every single one of them expecting Wade to take this mountain of medications simply to be acceptable?

No. Wade hadn’t thought about this at all, he hadn’t expected this at all and for the first time he felt a pang of sorrow for his mate and those first difficult weeks in Haven.

So sorry, my Omega. I had no idea.

“What if my mate doesn’t recognize me?” he asked again, and this time there was no disguising the fear in his voice, the way his breath caught and the words shook. “I don’t look the same, I don’t fit into this whole thing, what if I block my scent and he doesn’t know me and then he doesn’t--”

--want me.

What if he doesn’t want me?

The Alpha clasped his hands tight between his knees and hung his head, dread welling up from his core and dragging his scent and Logan whined under his breath before turning on his heel and striding away. It was too much. Too much to see Wade broken down and in so much pain, too much to know the Alpha might not actually survive long enough to find Peter again, too much to know this might have been a doomed idea from the start.

The couch dipped when Clint sat down next to him, and Wade shivered when feathers materialized and lay over his shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“What, old me never gave you a feather hug?” the Alpha asked lightly and when Wade only grunted in response, he finished, “Yeah, my friend Tash hates them too. She always slaps me away and says I smell like bird.”

“She sounds like a peach.”

“Oh yeah, she’s the worst. Will definitely try to bite you if you get too close and let me tell you, there’s a reason we call her the Black Widow. Do not fall for her charms no matter how many boobies she flashes your way.”

“...boobies aren’t really my type.” Wade said slowly and Clint laughed under his breath and budged even closer. “Seriously, what are you doing?”

“Look man, I get that you and the old me were friends but probably the sort of friends that gave air high-fives and not bromantic hugs.” The Alpha began and Wade-- Wade didn’t understand that reference at all. “But you reek like scared and sorta like failure right now so lemme ask you something. How many times did your mate trace your scars back then? How many nights did you sit in front of the fireplace or-- or out on your property and your Omega drew over your scars and skin until he had them all memorized?”

Wade touched the horribly raised claw marks on either side of his ribs and muttered, “Every night. Every day. All the time.”

“Right.” Clint nodded. “Logan does the same with my feathers. Says he used to groom me or whatever. I haven’t let him try that yet but I’m not real opposed to my mate wanting to rub me down for any reason, and I know you feel the same way with your Omega. You look--”

The Alpha cleared his throat. “--well you know how you look, but I guarantee you feel the same to your mate. All those lines? He knows them by heart and it won’t make any difference now they stick up a little. I know we talked about caps for your fangs, but you don’t seem like the type to smile a whole lot so maybe just stick with that fuck off scowl and try not to snarl at anyone in public.”

“And as far as these go?” Clint gestured to the pills Wade kept staring at like they would jump out and bite him. “You could just about overdose on these things and the second you get into the same room as your mate, they’ll bleed right out of your system. Logan’s never last longer than a few minutes once we get home. Dunno if it's the mutant thing, dunno if it’s our biology that refuses to be muted around our mates, but they’ll disappear in a few minutes and your mate will know you’re there no matter what.”

“He’s gonna know you.” the mutant finished softly. “Our mates always do.”

“...Logan knew you?”

“Logan picked me out of a crowd.” Clint confirmed. “I was out having coffee with Natasha and the biggest, meanest looking Omega I’ve ever seen came right up to me, yanked me up from my damn chair and shoved his nose in my neck. Freakin’ bit me right there at Starbucks. I had about two seconds to wonder what the hell was going on before my heart kicked into gear and I realized he was my mate. Nothing else mattered after that, all the stuff about him knowing me before and me not having wings this time and him being you know, internally shiny? Just details. We figured it out just like you two will figure it out.”

“Just details, huh?” Wade flexed his fingers and flinched when everything pulled and burned. “Seems like this mess is a pretty big detail.”

“Buddy.” Clint shook his feathers between them. “I’ve got magical tattoos that become full fledged wings in a few seconds. The first time Logan kissed me in public, I basically fluffed the hell out and scattered feathers everywhere. It was a wing boner and everyone saw it. We had to run away to people screaming and throwing shit at us and the National Enquirer ran an article about the Bird Boy in Central Park for a solid week.”

“Dunno what the Enquirer is.”

“The point is, we adjusted to the details.” the other Alpha countered. “Wing boners and shiny claws and all that. You and your mate will adjust fine too.”

“This version of you is a lot better at talking about feelings than the last version of you.” Wade said after a minute. “Other one use to fluff up if I so much as looked at Logan for too long.”

“What the hell are you doing looking at my mate for too long?” Clint demanded and Wade huffed a laugh, “Yeah, there you are.”

“You’ll be fine.” the wings retracted, melted back into the mutant’s arms. “Get some more sleep, Logan says we should give you a run down of New York City basics before we let you out into the wild so we’ll do that when you wake up, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Wade fell back against the backrest and put an arm over his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks.”

“You’ll be fine.” Clint repeated. “Gotta go find my Omega. Sleep so Cable quits acting rabid and we’ll see you in a bit.”

The door closed behind Clint as he went to find his mate, and the moment he was gone Wade rolled off the couch to grab for his pack-- or rather, Peter’s pack stuffed full of the Omega’s notebooks and presents.

Just like he’d done a thousand times before, Wade opened up to the first page of the first notebook and started reading but this time he took a pencil and filled in his own questions and thoughts along the borders and edges.

How did Pete cope with everything being so different?

Did I make things more difficult in the beginning?

Was he struggling more than I realized cos I was too busy thinking about him as mate instead of as someone lost in a new place?

…. What if I don’t fit into Peter’s world?

**************

“How is he?” Cable puffed at his cigar a few times then passed the lighter to Logan so the Omega could light a cigar of his own. “Adjusted any better? Still half outta his mind needing to see his mate?”

“I don’t think he’s doing good.” Logan blew a smoke ring into the air between them. “He hasn’t talked about Peter yet today but he’s been reading and writing in all those notebooks from his bag since yesterday afternoon. Got real quiet after sayin’ he didn’t think his mate would know him if he took the blockers and suppressants.”

“It’s a hard thing to come’t’terms with.” the mutant agreed. “Thinking your mate won’t accept how you’ve changed. Rough times.”

“Your mate didn’t take too kindly to you growing a metal half of your body?” Logan guessed and Cable returned, “She was dead before the virus made it past my shoulder. Wasn’t an issue.”

The Omega grimaced and Cable changed the subject. “Wade’s mate is doing better. All those books I gave him kept his mind off the depression and he seems better. It’s good. Seeing Wade will be shock enough, it would probably kill him if he didn’t have a few good days first.”

“That’s why you did it?” Logan wanted to know. “Gave that kid answers to all his million questions so he’d turn around enough to handle seeing Wade?”

“I gave the kid answers so he’d stop botherin’ me.” the Alpha maintained. “Wanted him outta his heat and focused on something else just in case this didn’t work and he never got Wade back again. He doesn’t know I went back to Haven, doesn’t know I’m here in the present again. It’s better that way.”

“You’re taking Wade to Pym today? That guy’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s brilliant. And since Stark walked away from anything science or mutant after the Manhattan project, his boy only lets me around if he has too. Pym is a good balance. Enough of a jerk to keep anyone from asking questions, smart enough to help me when I need it.”

“You actually like him.” Logan laughed a little. “No one likes Pym, but you do, don’t you?”

“I respect him,.” Cable countered. “And if you knew half the shit he could do, you’d respect him too. Did you get caps for Wade’s fangs?”

“Nope.” Logan puffed for another minute before explaining, “My Alpha said we shouldn’t do that to him, just warned the guy not to snarl at anyone in public. He’s feeling outta place enough, don’t need to emasculate him like that.”

“It’s fangs.” Cable argued in exasperation. “Ain’t like we’re ripping out his knot.”

“Eh.” the Omega shrugged non commitedly. “Easy for you to say. You still got fangs.”

“Eh.” Cable repeated the noise and put his cigar out. “Let’s get him outta here then. Pym won’t wait long.”

Back inside the building, Logan didn’t have much to say as Wade gathered up the notebooks again and stuffed them into the bag and he didn’t have much to say when the Alpha came down from the makeshift bedroom loft in brand new, modern clothes that looked entirely uncomfortable against the mutants skin.

But when Cable readied himself to blip himself and Wade into Pym’s lab, Logan reached out and grabbed Wade into a long hug, holding the Alpha tight for a minute and muttering, “Last time you disappeared with this time sliding bastard it took a hundred and fifty years to see you again. Maybe don’t do that again.”

“I’m fully planning on never seeing you again.” Wade pried the Omega’s arms off his shoulders but his eyes flickered red with open affection. “But if the city is as terrible as you say, maybe me and my mate will come up to your land for a while.”

“Do it.” Clint’s wings opened up off his shoulders for a few seconds. “Come up and stay with us. We’ve got acres up against the mountains and you’ll have to register as Canadian but it’s worth it for the views, yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m Canadian anyway.” Wade cracked a smile for the other Alpha. “Back then borders weren’t such a big deal, but I’m sure I was Northern enough to belong.”

“Then you don’t have any excuse.” Clint hauled his Omega back up against his body. “Find your mate, get him outta this cesspool city and come back--” he checked with Logan. “--home? Right? Our land is within a half days drive of the old Haven site. It’ll feel like home.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Wade had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t blurt out how uncertain he still was that Peter would even want to see him, much less that the Omega would want to give up modern life to live in the woods again. “Thanks.”

“Let’s go.” The scene was too similar to the one Cable had just torn Wade from a few days-- and several decades-- previous in Haven, so the mutant cut it short and closed his metal palm around Wade’s forearm. “This won’t hurt like coming from Haven, but you’ll still be a little dizzy afterwards. Just breathe, alright? Breathe.”

Cable should have warned Hank Pym to breathe too, because when he and Wade materialized in the Doctor’s front room Hank outright screamed and pitched a tea cup at them, shattering porcelain and hot tea at their feet.

“Easy does it.” Cable said dryly, and Wade only raised non existent eyebrows when the Doctor did a double take in his direction and screamed a little again. “You ready for us, or not?”

“I’m--I’m ready.” Hank inched along the far wall to keep some distance between himself and the Alphas, staring wide eyed at Wade and nearly tripping when the mutant flashed wicked fangs in his direction. “Good god, they really raised them wild back then, didn’t they?”

“You have no idea.” Cable patted at Wade’s shoulder and lowered his voice, “He’s wacky but he’s good, alright? Don’t worry about him.”

“Sorta worried he might crap his pants.” Wade said in the same sotto tone and Cable bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh. “Good thing he’s wearing the brown ones, we’ll never be able to tell.”

“Glad to see your sense of humour survived the journey.” Cable directed Wade down the stairs ahead of him. “Let’s see what else makes it outta here. Pym blew up his last lab on a project for me so--”

“You know, I knew that’s why you moved labs.” A new voice set both the Alpha’s on guard, but more surprising than the new voice was the unexpected scent of Omega, vanilla and cloves tinted with something electric and blue that emanated from the shockingly beautiful mutant perched on one of the stainless steel lab tables. “I knew it had something to do with your house exploding. I saw the news and I thought, ‘No way that was a gas leak, Hank was doing something hinky’.”

“Stark.” Beta’s didn’t normally growl but Hank sure gave it a try. “How did you get in here?”

“I designed all four of the security systems you’re using to protect this little playhouse.” Tony said nonchalantly. “Heya Mr. Summers, long time no see. I had a very interesting visit from an Omega that smelled just like you the other day so I figured you’d be around. Hank, you ignored Pep’s call the other night and hurt her feelings. You know she’s a dragon, right? She’s probably circling the clouds right now waiting to breathe fire on your humble little abode. By the way? Who’s this?”

Struck dumb by both the unexpected ramble and the searing gaze of chocolate brown eyes lit brilliant blue around the edges, Wade only stood there while the pretty Omega slid off the table and sauntered over in front of him.

“Wow, they just don’t make Alphas like you anymore, do they?” The Omega said admiringly, looking Wade up and down and grinning in sheer delight when he saw the edges of Wade’s fangs. “My god, you’re just about feral aren’t you? Never met an Alpha with fangs, they trim those things down these days, make you guys start taking regulators and suppressants right away to mellow you out as much as possible before your first rut. Do these hurt?”

Curious but gentle hands at Wade’s scars, and he sent Cable a dumbfounded look over the Omega’s head, mouthing who and what the hell and Cable only shrugged at him.

“Tony Stark by the way.” the Omega finally said, squeezing at Wade’s bicep and making a hmm! noise. “Genius enough to make Hank over there see red, rich enough to buy basically anything. I was a playboy before my Alpha told me to behave and while I do enjoy giving shocking amounts of money to different causes, my favorite cause might actually be the check I cut your mate a few months back. Darling little Omega, isn’t he? Whipcord smart and has about a million questions at any given time and he exposed my least favorite person in the world to be a giant douche nozzle so--”

“Stark!” Hank barked and the Omega quit feeling Wade up to turn and flash the Doctor an ingratiating grin. “If you are finished? I have real work to do!”

“Yeah, and I want to watch.” Tony pulled snacks from somewhere and offered some to Wade. “You don’t mind, right? Might even make you feel better to have another mutant in the room while the only non mutant runs some tests? I’m a huge fan of you old world Alphas. My Auntie Peggy was one and she didn’t let anyone tell her what to do ever. Not even after she passed. Left a video will giving the middle finger to the local priest because his wife always looked down at her for wearing scarlet to church every Sunday.”

“My god, he talks a lot.” Wade whispered and Cable whispered back, “This is why I work with Pym.”

“You can stay, but you have to sit down and shut the hell up.” Hank decided. “None of that Stark shit where you get into my project halfway and take it over.”

“I’ve never done that in my life.” Tony defended and the Beta shot back, “I can smell the bullshit from here, Tony! Sit down and shut up!”

Tony sat, but he never took his eyes off Wade as Hank directed the Alpha over to a chair. “Your mate misses you.” he said quietly and Wade only swallowed and looked away. “Still smells like mate sick and everything. Came around asking after mutants and told me he just wanted to know, wanted to understand more about our kind. He’s a good kid, good Omega. My mate was thoroughly charmed.”

“Talked your ear off, huh?” Wade watched in mild curiosity as Doctor Pym drew several vials worth of blood. “Bring a notebook?”

“He asked at least a million questions and scribbled so much I’m pretty sure he burned through a pencil.” Tony confirmed and Wade tried to smile. “Have you uh-- have you always looked like this? ...textured?”

“Effect of the journey.” Cable cut in, and then surprisingly, “So shut the hell up about it.”

“Charming as always.” Tony held out his bag of snacks to the mutant, then took them back when Cable only looked at him. “I bet your mate loves it. Pep loves my scars.”

Three pairs of semi surprised eyes turned his way and the Omega opened up his shirt to show them the patchwork mess over his heart. “It’s a long story and you don’t want to hear it. But she loves them. Says they mark me as hers cos she’s the only one who knows every inch of me like this. I bet Peter will feel the same way.”

Oddly enough, it was the most comforting thing anyone had said about the scars yet and Wade tucked it away in his heart. Peter thinking the scars and old hurts marked Wade as his made the Alpha feel that perhaps it wasn’t all bad.

The good feeling rapidly dissolved when Hank fed slides of Wade's blood into some sort of-- well Wade had no idea what sort of mechanical thing was sitting in front of him, but his heart sank when letters and numbers started flashing across a large screen in the corner and everyone besides him made a discouraged noise.

“What?” the Alpha tensed when Hank came back for more blood. “What does all that mean?”

“It's an equation.” Cable held up a hand when Tony started to talk again, effectively cutting off another ramble. “Hank is comparing your blood to Logan’s blood and to Clint’s to check for similarities.”

“Logan’s blood is continuously regenerating.” Doctor Pym explained, pointing to a system of equations next to the ones that had generated for Wade. “This sample is days old and not only is his blood not showing any signs of degeneration, it’s actually still dividing which means theoretically he could grow a body part with enough time and enough--”

Wade looked distinctly uncomfortable and Hank cleared his throat. “You know what, you don’t need to know that. Basically, I’m comparing your blood to someone else with a healing factor to see the speed and progression of your cells. On this side, I’m comparing it to Clint’s blood because he is both Alpha and mutant with no healing factor, or at least not one that is particularly measurable.”

“So what does it tell you?” Another vial and this time Wade growled in warning when the doctor came near him. “What does that mean. I dunno what equation means or anything like that.”

“This is telling us your blood isn’t regenerating as fast as Logan’s.” Tony jumped out of his seat and took over the explanation. “But it’s still moving at least three times as fast as Clint’s, who would be the most similar to you in genetic makeup once you take out that healing thing. Which is awesome, by the way? I wish I could regrow body parts.”

“Anyway.” Hank cut a glance at the Omega before typing away at his computer for a minute. “Based on these numbers and the rate of decay we can see in your blood compared to the other test subjects--”

“Use their names!” Cable barked and Hank jumped. “We do not like to be called test subjects! Logan and Clint are people!”

“...my apologies.” Hank held up both hands peacefully, and Tony cocked his head to trill comfortingly at the Alpha. “I start thinking in lab-speak and that’s what comes out. No harm meant.”

He tried again, “I can take the information in Clint and Logan’s blood and use it to create an equation--” the doctor paused. “-- a plan? Blueprint? Uh-- like a future guess? For how your life span and healing abilities will be affected by staying in this timeline.”

“Okay.” Wade dug his nails into his leg and tried to regulate his breathing. “So what’s it saying?”

A new set of numbers and letters and a chart that Wade couldn’t hope to begin to understand filled the new screen and Hank explained, “You’re going to start aging in this time line. It might be thirty years before you notice it physically, but eventually you’ll wake up feeling older than you did before. Based on this data, I’d say you’ll age three years to our ten and any major injury that taxes your mutation will advance the aging a little faster.”

“So if you get in an accident and break your leg?” Tony waved his hand around vaguely. “No more damage than it would do to the rest of us. Get in an accident and snap your neck and come back? Probably looking at taking a good ten years off your life.”

“You’ll need to be careful.” Cable said firmly. “Nothing like you were before, because--”

“-- because one day I could actually die.” Wade finished, and then, “One day I could actually get old.”

“Right, which is terrible.” Hank announced, pulling up yet another screen and punching in numbers. “I don’t recommend it. Yesterday I got out of bed and my hip popped so loud I thought it actually snapped. Don’t grow old, it’s the worst.”

“Sorry, Wade.” the Omega’s eyes dimmed in sympathy. “I’m sure that wasn’t the news you wanted.”

“I could grow old.” the Alpha repeated and this time his eyes landed squarely on Cable. “You mean, I could grow old with my mate?”

“You could grow old with your mate.” the mutant confirmed, the corner of his mouth tipping up in an understanding smile. “That’s a fact.”

“I’d say you’ve got a good seventy years before your healing factor gives out completely and then you’ll pass just like the rest of us.” Tony was too interested in the numbers flashing by to notice the two Alphas exchanging a meaningful look. “You’re what, a hundred and ten? Two hundred and sixty now that Cable brought you forward? I know seventy years sounds like a death sentence when you’re talking about a life span of actual centuries but it's good by our standards. It really is, this is sorts of best case scenario.”

“We could also see about transfusions for your mate.” Doctor Pym said excitedly. “Your blood could massively boost his immune system and increase his life by most of a decade I bet! There’s about a hundred tests I’d love to do on you and maybe even--”

Cable made a noise that was close enough to a snarl to make the Beta shut up abruptly. “Not real keen on people doing tests on mutants, Hank. Leave it alone.”

“Yeah, Hank.” Tony sniffed, switching sides quickly and obviously gleeful over a chance to needle the old man. “Leave us alone.”

“I’m just saying-- hey where are you going?” Doctor Pym stopped mid sentence when Wade abruptly got up from the chair and headed for the door. “Don’t you want to hear this? It’s only your life you know, no big deal or anything.”

“I’ve heard everything I care about.” the Alpha ignored Hank’s outstretched hand and walked right for Cable. “Can we go? I need to see my mate now.”

“I know.” Cable nodded, pulled a smaller circular device off his belt and pressed it into the Alpha’s hand. “This will put you right in your mate’s living room. It’s only good for a one way, the coordinates are pre loaded. Just press it and go, alright?”

“Thank you.” Wade shouldered his pack and gripped the device tight. “And um-- thank you. For giving me the chance to grow old with Pete.”

“Just glad it worked out.” The mutant said gruffly. “Go find your mate and maybe the two of you leave me the hell alone after this.”

“Yeah, I’ve got no reason to want to talk to you again.” A peek of fangs as the Alpha smiled one last time. “This good-bye?”

“It goddamn better be.”

Wade depressed the device, grit his teeth against the uncomfortable wrenching in his gut and disappeared in a flash of light, leaving the other three men behind.

“Cannnnn I have one of those?” Tony asked immediately and Cable grunted, “No.”

“Well can I have the blue prints? I know you only trust Hank with your futuristic stuff, but I create super computers, I’m sure I can handle programming a little time slidey device.”

“Absolutely not.”

Hank smirked at the Omega’s put out expression, but then Tony snarked, “All I’m saying, I definitely would not have blown up my house trying to build one for you!”

“Nope!” the Beta tossed back. “You would have leveled an entire city block and then slapped one of those obnoxious Stark logo’s on it and tried to sell the damn thing for millions!”

“Billions, actually but--”

Their conversation faded out as Cable rolled his eyes and went on his own way. He’d check back in with Wade and Peter only one more time just to make sure they found each other and then he was washing his hands of the whole mess.

Guilt assuaged, time travel achieved, and he had a date in Haven to watch Hope celebrate her next birthday which was entirely more important than two scientists bickering over who would have blown up which building and whose logo was less tacky.

The mutant blinked, tracking the readout from the device he’d given Wade and only when the numbers stopped spinning at the correct location did he move on.

He’d done all he could and it was up to the mated pair to figure out the rest.

They’d be fine.

Soulmates were always fine.

**************

Peter’s Apartment

The apartment was dark, every light off and every curtain drawn and Wade’s heart stuttered to a stop when he heard Peter’s voice outside the door.

Keys jangling in the lock, once and then twice before they caught and turned and the door opened with only enough light to let Wade catch a glimpse of a lean frame and a flash of brown eyes before it shut and plunged the entire place into shadows again.

There was a quiet thump when the Omega leaned back against the door, and from his seat across the room Wade held his breath and dug his fingers into the upholstery and forced himself still.

And quietly, shakily, almost fearful and still the sweetest sound Wade had ever heard--

“Al-- Alpha?”

The Alpha’s voice didn’t work the first time he tried to talk and the second time it was hoarse, rough and raw like Wade had been crying and damn maybe he was crying and just couldn’t tell.

“I’m here, Pete.” he finally whispered, and the Omega gave a little gasp that about killed him. “I’m here.”

“Oh.” Lavender and honeysuckle filtered timid and yearning towards the Alpha’s nose and Peter whispered, “C--Can you feel me? Right here?”

Wade was off the chair in an instant, stumbling across the room and rearing to a stop just barely in front of his mate. Peter’s eyes were wide in the dark trying to find him, palm up and fingers spread and the Alpha swallowed hard before covering Peter’s hand with his own rougher one, weaving their fingers together and bringing the Omega’s knuckles to his mouth for a gentle, gentle kiss.

“My mate. I can feel you.”

*****************

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#ncts fics #spideypool #peter parker #wade wilson #nathan summers #logan #clint barton #tony stark #soulmate au #time travel au #abo dynamics

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saladejin · 4 years

Text

Call An Uber? | 07

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader | Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut

Summary: Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5k

< masterpost >

»»————- <<prev | next >> ————-««

Soojin’s heels clapped loudly against the hardened floor as she sprinted through the office. Her straight black hair swung uncontrollably in her haste, and her hands were clammy from the sudden exertion.

“Unni! Why are you rushing?” I called hopelessly, left to trail in her rapid footsteps in a desperate attempt to catch up.

I’d only just arrived at the building for work five minutes prior, but someone had grasped my wrist after crossing the threshold into my own office. Soojin’s flurried instructions and widened eyes were the only indicators I was provided with before apparently having to make a run for my life.

“We need more people down at the concert hall! There’s no-one available, hurry!”

My eyebrows furrowed as my brain grasped at her words, not really understanding what was happening. The concert was tonight? How could I even forget something like that?

“Shit, but I thought we didn’t get involved with the concerts?” I questioned the short-haired woman, who was clad from head to toe in office-wear ironically as if to fortify my point. We had stopped sprinting once we reached the carpark outside and I squealed when the assistant bundled me straight into one of the transport vans out the back. I was extremely surprised at how spontaneous everything seemed at the moment.

“Well, we don’t usually. But I received a call for help, and you were the only person who didn’t have a packed schedule for tonight,” Soojin huffed, combing her hair away from her flustered face. She didn’t join me, but instead waved a hand towards the driver as a signal to depart.

“Sorry for the short notice, you’ll have fun though!”

Before I could even open my mouth in protest, the door was closed with a thud and I was left to wallow in the deafening silence. Sighing in defeat, I wondered if these kinds of things always happened around Bighit Entertainment.

“Oh my…we’re so sorry (Y/n)-ssi.”

I glanced up to see the remaining seats taken up by three other women, much to my surprise. They looked just as shocked as I did, but I could tell they were relieved they’d actually received the help they wanted.

“We didn’t expect Soojin to rush you over here like that, I apologise.” The oldest of the bunch shook her head and muttered drowsily. She was so obviously used to the stress-head assistant being excessively dramatic.

I noticed they were all dressed in darkened clothing to remain hidden if they ever needed to be directly backstage, and was just glad I hadn’t decided to adorn anything too flashy or bright for the working day.

It’s a bit of a change, but I didn’t have anything else planned anyway.

“It's fine, I’m willing to help out with anything the stylists and backstage crew need. What will I be doing tonight?”

The women were surrounded by plastic boxes full of stylistic and colourful stage clothes, but one also held a smaller crate full of makeup and cleaning supplies in her lap. I was a bit confused about what particular job they would be doing for the event.

“We’re bringing over supplies for now, but we just help out with anything that needs to be done. Usually we have many other volunteers, but tonight we had too many people call in absent.”

I fought the sudden urge to roll my eyes at the statement. This exact thing had happened when they needed an interpreter a few weeks back. Why were the employees around here so unreliable as of late?

“Okay, so we’ll be pretty pressed tonight, right?”

“Yep, unfortunately,” the eldest spoke again, looking crestfallen all of a sudden. “But we’re good at what we do, so we’ll be able to hold it together for them the best we can.”

Admiration for their resolve sizzled within me, and I nodded to try and put out the same attitude. I would do my best to make sure everything flowed nicely as well, even though I had no experience with backstage shenanigans.

“If you could,” the one holding the smallest crate piped up, “would you please take these down to the stylists when we get there? You can station yourself in the dressing rooms and help them with anything they need for the night.”

I was growing more excited by the minute, and the thought of spending more time with the stylists at an actual concert made me outright giddy. I was actually becoming quite close with them now, as I still made occasional coffee stops downstairs whenever they needed the extra energy.

“Of course. I’ll do my best.”

The crate wasn’t too heavy to lug around, and there was no trouble navigating the concert hall based off the given instructions. The entire hall was flurried with excited workers, and I almost got trodden on by way too many anxious supervisors and staff while trying to get to the stylist’s hallway.

Damn, these functions are intense…

I finally managed to reach the humid room, trying to rush in time for the working men and women to gather everything they needed. The concert was due to start soon, and usually all the makeup and necessary last-minute fittings would’ve been completed already. Something must have gone awry with the entire line of communication.

I could only manage a throaty cough when arriving at the dressing room. The stinging smell of scented hairspray laced the air way too thickly for me to even breathe. Nobody else seemed to be having a problem though, because I was instantly greeted with a skyrocketing enthusiasm.

"(Y/n)-ah! Thank God you’re here!”

“(Y/n)’s here?”

A male stylist popped his head around one of the ajar doorframes, and I managed a smile when he bowed and hurriedly took the crate from my outstretched arms. Obviously, they had been wanting these extra supplies for quite some time.

I glanced around to see darkly attired people promptly going about their usual jobs, but my breath hitched when I saw a few of the performers themselves seated in the chairs assigned for the hair specialists.

Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin.

Even though I’d recently come to know them on a personal level, the simple fact that they were existing within my vicinity caused my heart to beat erratically. I was continuously flooded with love and admiration for these boys, and having to contain it for so long was probably detrimental to my health. The sudden spike of adrenaline from the thrilled atmosphere did not help my churning emotions.

My mood dampened slightly when I saw the effect of the miscommunications painted clearly on each of their features. Yoongi was still cool and collected, having his earbuds plugged right in and his eyes closed placidly as a hairdresser worked gel deep into his fading locks.

Namjoon was fiddling impatiently with his fingers, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth occasionally as he tried to analyse the situation. On the outside, it looked as if he was as composed as ever, smiling at anyone who met with his perusing eyes, but I knew he was growing frazzled at the edges due to everyone losing their minds around him.

Jimin and Jungkook both looked quite lost, in one way or another. The younger members were glancing around and tapping their toes against the hardened flooring in bouts of anxiety. Jimin kept glancing at the maknae next to him, almost as if majority of his burden was a direct result of worrying too much about the other boy, and I saw him murmur a few soothing phrases here and there. It wasn’t as if they were a complete mess. They had obviously dealt with poorly planned concerts before, but I knew it still wasn’t pleasant for anyone.

Not one of them even knew I had entered the room.

“(Y/n)-ah, can you please, please do me a massive favour and straighten his hair? I’ll be back very soon!” One of the noonas scrambled towards me and dropped a large straightener right into my startled fingers. I snapped my eyes upwards to see the woman’s pleading gaze boring into my own before she darted away to address a more urgent matter.

I eventually shifted my gaze to Jungkook’s chair, which she had abruptly abandoned, and slowly began to make my way in that direction.

“Hey, maknae.” I smirked and rested one hand on the boy’s rigid shoulder, coming up to push his swivelling chair further into the makeup bench. His doe eyes widened, and I felt his whole body jerk underneath my touch, letting me know just how on edge he truly was.

“(Y/n)-noona? What?”

“Hey, hey. Everything’s gonna be fine, don’t get so tensed up or you’ll give yourself a cramp,” I chided, keeping my voice steady while attempting to plug in the straightener swiftly enough. If I wanted the boy to feel prepared, he needed this done as quickly as possible. Probably even quicker than that.

Under my hand, which I had begun to rub against his shoulder sympathetically, he sighed with a profound heaviness and loosened his posture. Feeling playful, I raised my fingers upwards to comb through and ruffle his messy dark strands of hair. He chuckled at my actions and even tried to duck away eventually, but I was just glad to see his cheeky smile again. The mirror was a little dirty from dustings of powders and sprays that just continued to build up, but I could still see what I was doing clearly.

“I have to straighten this mop now, so hold still you brat,” I teased the younger boy with a whine, since he wouldn’t stop trying to move away from me.

“Well, well. What brings you here Ms. Uber?” a deeper voice suddenly droned from the seat to our left, and I turned my eyes away from Jungkook’s gleaming ones to figure out where it was coming from. There, I was met with Yoongi’s curious pucker, which in turn morphed into an amused smirk at my expression.

I gave a sharp raise of my eyebrows before saying, “I don’t know what kind of show you people are running, but this seems more like a zoo to me.”

He laughed brusquely and pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek, catlike eyes crinkling up with his smile in the most adorable way.

“You’re definitely not wrong there.”

“(Y/n)? When the hell did you get here!?” a breathy tone, which undoubtedly belonged to Jimin, caused me to smile wider before turning my head in the opposite direction. He was currently getting the finishing touches done to his makeup via the powder brush, but I must’ve been pretty identifiable by voice alone. It was probably the bluntness.

“I’ve actually been here for about ten minutes or so, but you guys were way too stressed out to notice. I hope you all know things are getting sorted out as we speak, it just looks like bomb-zone because humans are awkward and don’t know how to deal with their shit.”

The three of them snorted or exhaled their mirth, and I even saw Namjoon who was scrolling through his phone absentmindedly nod in agreement. The taller man’s whole frame trembled once as a sign of laughter, and I sniggered inwardly at the thought of him eavesdropping. The leader was sitting one seat further down than Yoongi, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to join into the conversation just yet.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Jungkook mumbled, casting his eyes downwards once more before sighing again. I couldn’t massage his shoulder comfortingly anymore because my sole task was now straightening his freshly cleaned hair. Though I still badly wanted to engulf the wearied boy in a heartfelt hug to help him forget all his misgivings.

“I know you guys would do great out there, regardless of what went down backstage anyway,” I continued, running my fingers gently against Jungkook’s scalp once I had straightened out all of the kinked tresses. He leaned back into my hand, a small smile appearing at the kneading sensations against his skull. All of his worries were hopefully grooved out in these short moments of serenity.

“If she’s here, someone get Jin-hyung before he blows a fuse,” Yoongi exclaimed indignantly and jerked out both of his earbuds to look around. I watched with confusion as the other members gasped and started calling out raucously for the eldest member. Jimin couldn’t contain his chortles and leaned over to wack one small hand against Jungkook.

“Quick, he’ll starve us if we let this happen!”

The woman from before suddenly appeared next to me, and my eyes tore away from Jungkook’s peaceful expression to see her smiling visage. “Ah, thank you so much (Y/n)! You can go back to what you were doing now,” she said before sliding across to examine Jungkook.

“Wow, you’ve done an excellently thorough job, maybe you should be in the styling room with us instead of that stuffy office!”

I giggled, handing over the warmed straightener into her pale, awaiting palms. “I’m sorry unni, but your room is no less stuffy. How do your lungs even function with that much hairspray in your system?”

She sighed and shook her head knowingly before returning to work on the glossy mop of hair in front of her. The young singer had once again tensed up in the shoulders, and I had to bite back a growl of disapproval.

“Okay…I guess I’ll see you guys some other time, maybe after?” I managed to half-sigh, surprisingly more saddened than I thought about leaving them. Jimin, Yoongi and even Namjoon had turned to give me their undivided attention while Jungkook simply met my gaze directly through the mirror in front of him. All four looked taken aback, the reason for their bewilderment a complete and utter mystery.

“Break a leg, I’ll be cheering from wherever I am.” I began to back away, teasingly blowing a kiss towards all of them to break the tensioned air. At the gesture, Jimin reached upwards sharply to catch the kiss with widened eyes, and this caused everyone to break out into giggles and chuckles.

I continued to help out wherever I was needed, mostly carrying boxes and supplies around the concert hall whenever there was an impromptu need for them. I even ran into a breathless Taehyung a good fifteen minutes or so before the concert was about to launch. Since the walkway was tiny, I quickly pressed myself into the wall with my hands splayed on the painted surface to let him pass by.

“(Y/n)? Hello! I’m sorry, I’m in a rush.” He grinned widely and rested both of his large hands on my shoulders to inch along as quickly as he could. He’d clearly been rehearsing, so the body heat radiating from the boy was borderline crazy.

“Hey, good luck out there!” I called after him when I finally managed to regain some breath into my body, receiving a half-hearted wave and a booming ‘Thank you!’ in return as he continued to sprint down the narrow passage. My eyes trailed his slightly wavy grey-brown hair as it bobbed with his movements, endlessly thanking whoever invented bandanas. It wouldn’t be so farfetched to believe they were made exclusively for him.

It was time for the boys to get fitted with the clothes they would be performing in, and I quivered gleefully at the thought of seeing their dances and vocals up close. This was about to be the best concert experience I could possibly dream of.

“It’s going to start soon!” A woman who was part of the backstage crew ushered me out of the walkway, and I met up once again with the three helpers I’d arrived with. Their brows were glistening, and their breathing ragged. I knew they’d been working just as hard as I had been.

“Well done, all of you.” The eldest chuckled airily. “Now we’ll be side-stage to help with equipment and props. When you feel like you don’t have a job to do, talk to that blonde coordinator standing next to the curtain.”

I followed her gesture to see a significantly younger looking woman who was preoccupied with ordering workers around rapidly. Even though she was under fire from the stressful organisation, she threw out directions and commands like a programmed machine gun. I gulped as I watched her alternate between muttering into her headset and steadily directing every single person who so much as peeped in her direction.

The other assistants moved off, obviously already having things to see and get done, but I was left to consult the aforementioned coordinator herself.

“There’s so much to do, but everything is being looked into. Could you please go to the left wing and speak with the crew there? I think there was something about quick changes,” the blonde woman barely took a breath before dishing out the instructions, and I knew things were really starting to intensify as the lights of the concert hall dimmed.

The sounds of loud cheering and screaming only flooded my ears now, and I was left baffled on how they had been tuned out for so long. The adrenaline must have worked its way into my head and created figurative earplugs.

Wow, maybe you’re just going deaf already. Let’s face it.

The excitement continued to bundle around within me as I ducked into a different walkway that crossed backstage. I hadn’t been over to this side yet, but I knew it was where the resting and recovery section was most of the time.

“Okay, are you the helper?” A middle-aged woman with deeply set eyes greeted me as soon as I emerged into the open space, and I could only nod enthusiastically. She smiled warmly in relief and guided me over to where a few piles of clothes were lined up against the back wall.

“This is where quick changes happen, but it’s only occasionally and there’s never a point where all the members need a quick change of clothes at the same time. You’re here for us if we need the extra help, it’s always good to have another pair of hands when things don’t work out.”

“That’s understandable, I’ll look out and help if I need to,” I responded with confidence, and only received a brisk nod in reply. The concert had begun, and the shrill screams of fans rose upwards until it was a literal roar of exhilaration and awe. I suddenly grew disappointed, because I realised only then that I wouldn’t actually see any glimpses of the concert at all. I would just be stuck back here listening to the action unfold.

Well, it’s better than nothing. This job has already brought me a lot more than I could have ever asked for.

I strained my ears intently to listen to the boys as they greeted their fans affectionately, just as they usually did, and tried to conjure up the image of their smiling faces. Their declarations of love for ARMY used to make my heart clench and squeeze with a crushing adoration, but now I felt somehow disconnected. It was as if they were addressing something completely separate, almost like…I wasn’t even a member of the fanbase anymore.

It wasn’t as if I was any less of a fan, it just felt so different and alien to identify as normal now. Especially as an International-ARMY, who were known for collectively struggling with the idea of never meeting the boys and only getting rare visits. I suddenly felt as though my fortified world as a fan had shifted on its axis.

When ‘Fire’ started blaring through the speakers of the stadium, the tumbling thoughts vanished, and a smile suddenly erupted onto my features. Memories of the action-packed lesson back in the practice room at Bighit caused me to shake my head fondly. Was it strange that I had to fight the urge to break into the dance routine Hoseok and Jimin had taught me? Maybe, but I wasn’t ashamed.

Maybe, there was an off chance they were reliving the same memories? I doubted it, but it would be hilarious to see their faces during this performance and catch any random, straying grins or chuckles.

As the minutes flew by, I hung back against the wall a few metres away and glanced around to see if my help would be required. Then, a couple of seconds after the third song – ‘Save Me’ – drew to a close, the sound of hasty footsteps ricocheted off the large surrounding walls. There was barely any warning before three of the members burst into the area and scrambled for the piles of clothes on the ground. In the darkness of backstage, I could just distinguish the features of Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok. The three rappers.

They quickly shrugged on oversized coats and the crew helped them speedily by looping shimmering chains around their sweaty necklines. I figured they must have been going out to perform one of the ‘Cyphers’, as suggested by their suddenly delinquent fashion sense. I watched with wonderment as the heavily breathing performers worked themselves up to deliver their savagely natured disses.

A couple of minutes soon passed after they’d taken their leave. The loud, banging track was pulsating through the air around those of us waiting in the wings. When the final verse opened up, more panting bodies arrived into the changing area. The vocalists needed to begin gearing up for their own performance after this one, and I was eager to possibly hear ‘Dimple’ or maybe even ‘Lost’? Anything would’ve literally been A-okay with me at that moment.

The vocalists tried their best to remove their shirts in the quickest and quietest way possible, but it wouldn’t have mattered much because ‘Cypher 4’ had enough noise and adlibbing to accompany a battlefield movie scene. Plus, they were getting enough help from the crew members to shuck their decorative getups in no time. All except a very flustered Seokjin…

Seeing the oldest member of BTS up close for the first time rendered me speechless, and it suddenly struck me that he was the only one I hadn’t actually met. My eyes scanned over the broad-shouldered man as he tugged off his shoes and snatched at the clothes to find the right button-up shirt. Cypher was drawing to a close, and he was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt despite the shakiness of his fingers. It looked like he was way too hyped up to even look in a straight line, and I saw that he still hadn’t even fixed up his earpiece.

Everyone else is occupied! Shit, why am I forced into this with the one member I haven’t spoken to?

I instantly jumped to my feet when the black-haired man bit his bottom lip in frustration, looking towards his bandmates desperately for help.

Seokjin's eyes blew wide when I swiftly appeared in front of him and gently knocked his hands away from the buttons of his snowy white dress shirt. I averted my eyes away from the view of his exposed chest, because the sight would surely only muddle my mind further. The wafting tendrils of fragranced cologne and body sweat were already doing enough to my insides as it was, and I really didn’t need the added suffering.

“Fix your mic-earpiece thing!” I whispered urgently and snapped the buttons of the shirt into place quicker than he ever could’ve managed. His concentration flew back to the task at hand, and I felt rather than heard his rickety sigh of pure relief. There was only about a handful of seconds remaining before all four of them had to rush out on stage, so I kept a level head and willed any tremors far away from my fingertips. The man towered above me, so my average height had somehow become useful for once. Only when it came to doing up shirt buttons, so it seemed.

Seokjin looped the cord of his earpiece back around to the correct position, making sure to avoid knocking my rapidly moving fingers, and craned his neck from side to side to loosen the muscles there. Sweat gleamed from his hairline down to the flawless skin of his collarbone, and I couldn’t even bring myself to be disgusted by the coating of it on my fingers just from his clothed chest alone. I now knew why changing outfits halfway through a concert was such a brilliant idea.

“Are you (Y/n), by any chance?” his hushed voice suddenly whispered close to my eardrum, and I looked upwards to see him covering his mic with one careful hand. He had leaned in slightly to make sure it was easy to hear, and I gulped at the scorching temperature blooming from his body. My cheeks were definitely serving consequences.

“Well, how did you manage to figure that out?” I smirked in a sorry attempt to push down any unnecessary stammering, finally finishing up with the buttons and leaving him to smooth out any fabric creases. He did so, and I saw his eyes sparkle with triumph as he rolled his shoulders to release the cramps.

“You’d find it weird if I told you why.”

He shook his head with a smile and reached up to wipe at the smattering of salty droplets cascading down his jawline. I raised an eyebrow at the statement, blaming it on the obvious lack of time, and reached behind me to grab a blue bleach-stained towel resting over a chair.

“I’ll question that later, for now you should have a drink,” I murmured and reached up to smooth his bangs away, letting me dab at his sweat covered brow. He looked positively stunned at my forwardness, but then broke into a mischievous grin and spread his feet further apart so he could lower himself enough to stand at eye-level.

“Hey, I’m not even that short,” I grumbled, narrowing my eyes while continuing to wipe at his jaw more forcefully than before. He almost fell over because of the unbalanced stance, and ducked his head away from my violent towelling, covering his mouth with one hand to muffle his laughter.

“You guys better stop messing around, you’re going out in ten seconds Seokjin-ssi.” A hand tapped my shoulder harshly and I whipped my head around to see the coordinator fixating me with a warning glare. She then scoured it over Seokjin before muttering into her headpiece and departing towards the stage manager’s desk.

I puffed out my cheeks and met Jin’s equally terrified expression, my heartbeat hammering at the daunting encounter. Then seeing his offended pout made me purse my lips, and we could both barely contain ourselves from snorting with amusement again. It was so weird how things seemed to get funnier when you really weren’t supposed to laugh.

“Stop, or you’ll get me fired.” I cleared my throat softly, trying to stop my lips from quirking at every single movement or sound he made.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now? I seem to remember a certain somebody attacking me with a towel…”

Before I could even bite back with a witty reply, Jimin hopped over and tugged Seokjin by the loose flowing fabric of his shirt.

“Hyung, we have to go on!”

I heard Seokjin curse under his breath before he adjusted his earpiece and rolled his wide shoulders once more. His exhilarated but nervous demeanour had made a comeback suddenly, and I felt bad for distracting his focus from the actual concert.

“You’ll do great.” I flashed a thumbs up to both boys and received a heartfelt smile from Jimin in return. Seokjin nodded towards me with one corner of his lips tugged up, and I felt my brain start swimming when he winked.

Not usually being one to back down from a challenge, I dared to throw my own wink back. He definitely wasn’t expecting that, and I turned away with a chuckle upon seeing his widened eyes and confronted expression. He’d tried to turn to Jimin and point at me accusingly, but the signal was finally given for the boys to venture out onto the stage and the vocalist instantly fell back into his serious stage front.

I could only watch them go, feeling giddy that I had finally met the famous ‘worldwide’ man and his luckily genuine sense of humour. It was easy to think that everything he portrayed for the fans was just a mere persona, but after finding out that he truly was the dork we all knew and loved, I could rest easy.

Next thing I know, we’ll be battling it out to see who has the best dad jokes.

As the concert finally mellowed out into the bittersweet goodbyes and thankyous, I was tasked with packing away the supplies and loading them into the transport vans behind the venue. The process took longer than usual, as the organisation was still short on helping hands, but the concert itself had definitely been a huge success.

Humid night air filled my nostrils, and I observed the glittering stars above me serenely. I considered how the world was seriously full of countless blessings: friends, family, joyful memories, wealth, education, sleep, laughter, love…and boybands, I guess. The conclusion, which only took seconds to figure out, was that I was just lucky to have experienced them all.

Well, hopefully I would.

"(Y/n)! Wait up!"

I turned and saw a very flustered Jimin running at full pelt towards me. His hard-soled shoes echoed against the concrete of the emptying carpark, and I couldn't help but smile fondly at his excitable expression.

All six of the remaining members appeared from the double glass doors, and I knew I was about to be faced with the combined elation of them all. There was absolutely no feeling like pulling off a successful concert, and today I could even consider myself a part of it.

Maybe...no hopefully, this wouldn't even be the last time.

tagged: @l4life, @joyful-jimin, @gee-nee

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