#it would be a shame if I.. opened all of these programs and documents again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

veeaxx · 2 years

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Regret.

(replaced!m/c au)

A/N: Credits to @azlrse for the drabble she made! It's addicting af 💃🕺 Repost because Tumblr ruined it for me 😭 No specific pronouns are used ♡

TW: Angst, M/C breaks down, crying-

Fandom: Obey me!

Please refer to my masterlist to see the rest of my works <3

Their eyes widen as they see you, the same M/C they knew and loved all those years ago, in that very office.

Your glare was self-explanatory, you clearly didn't want them here.

Not after what they did.

"M-M/C.." Mammon happens to stutter out, making you clear your throat.

"Did you need something? I'm kind of busy as of the moment." You say in a low voice, crossing your arms.

The second eldest lowered his head in shame, along with the rest of his brothers. Lucifer stepped closer to your desk.

From the way he looks at you, he's clearly asking for a chance to speak.

"Diavolo is hosting another exchange program. He's selected different students from all three realms to participa--" He explains, until you hold your hand up as a gesture.

"I know how it works." You say coldly, searching through the files on your desk. "May I ask how much students are being selected this year?"

He hesitates to speak for a while, earning confused looks from some of his brothers. The eldest brother never stopped talking when it came to important manners.

What happened really did affect him after all...

"Unlike last time, we're selecting two students. One of yours seems to be one of them." He continues, "We'll just need your approval and it will be settled."

Grabbing a folder with a single page document, you open it and sigh.

Your own approval would allow your student to join the exchange program in Devildom. Just like you all those years ago.. No, not after that.

Being ignored, hurt, humiliated. All because of one attention-seeking human..You'd hate to see something like that happen to a student of yours.

"Such pathetic demons." You thought.

Setting down the folder, you hold the bridge of your nose before looking up to face the fallen angel.

"If it's no trouble, I'll have to address this with the rest of the student council." Opening one of the drawers beneath your desk, you take out a notepad and start taking notes.

"We'll have a final decision afterwards, but we'll need some time.. I'll need a bit to think of my answer as well." You reply.

Lucifer nods slowly, "Of course." Finishing your notes, you place the notepad down. Looking up at the demons.

"If that's all you need to address with me, you may take your leave. Like I said, I am quite busy." You explain.

When you think they're about to leave, you feel someone grab your shoulder.

"M/C..Please." By that voice and desperate tone, you can tell it's Leviathan. Surprisingly, he talked first. You don't turn your head to face him, however. "We're so sorry."

Beelzebub and Belphegor join in, hesitantly walking towards you. "Please come back to us.." Beel continues, "We miss you.. A lot." Belphie says softly, yawning shortly after.

The second eldest looks at you, his eyes showing sheer guilt. Seems like he also wanted to say sorry, but couldn't bear to say anything.

"M/C dear.. We didn't mean to push you away.." Asmodeus mutters, making Satan sigh. "I don't want to seem foolish, but it's true M/C. We miss you, dearly." He explains.

Lucifer stood behind his brothers, realizing how much a mere human meant to not only him, but to the everyone else.

The human that had the courage to stand up to him, the human who brought them together again, the human who loved him for who he was.

He pushed that all away.

It was silent, until you let out a shaky sigh and a single tear rolled down your cheek. Looking back at them, you softly held Levi's hand and lifted it off your shoulder.

"I'm sorry, but I don't address to anything that isn't related with the duties of student council or the council themselves." You reply bluntly. "Now, if you truly have no other concerns, kindly leave my office."

Their hearts shattered into pieces.

"M-M/C..P-please--" Mammon exclaims before his wrist is grabbed by Lucifer. "Mammon. It's time to take our leave." He explains. A slight sound is heard, meaning something probably fell on the floor. But that didn't matter to the avatar of greed at the moment.

Mammon's eyes are wide, but he understands that there's nothing he can do. His brothers look down, some even starting to cry.

You look back at them one more time as they walk out, until the door closes shut.

More tears start falling from your eyes, and eventually you're full-on crying. You sob quietly, hoping that no one hears.

All those memories you've spent with them, all those comforting times.. Gone.

You'd give anything to be in their embrace, to hear their comforting voice, to feel their heart beat close to yours just like before.

You truly miss them, but after what they've done, is it worth missing them?

. . . ♡ . . .

Mammon reaches into his pockets as he walks down the hall, reaching for a trinket you'd given him after you'd both become friends. However, he doesn't feel anything.

"No, no.." He mutters, before checking the rest of his pockets. "I-it's gotta be here!" The demon exclaims.

"What's wrong, Mammon?" Satan asks, seeing his brother panic. "The 'lil thing M/C gave me.. It's gone! I-I remember bringing it here though..!" Levi looks at his brother, "Maybe you dropped it, or it fell.. In M/C's office..?!" He asks.

"I can't go in there.. Not after that.." The second eldest says quietly, before his older brother interrupts him. "5 minutes, Mammon. Find that trinket of yours or else we're leaving you here."

Lucifer states, making his brother run back to your office. "God damn it..! Why the hell is he giving me a time limit..?!" He asks himself.

Stopping at your door, he thinks to knock, until he hears sniffling. "Huh, what in Diavolo is that sound.." He thinks to himself, curiosity making him peek through the door.

His eyes widen as he sees your small frame, kneeling on the ground in tears. Your gentle sobs fill the room, making him wince as if he felt the pain you were going through.

"M-M/C.." He thinks, guilt washing over him again. Seeing the trinket he was looking for, he quickly grabs it (putting it in the pocket of his jacket) before taking one last look at you.

"I'm so sorry, M/C..I promise ya I'll make things right..."

Running back down the hall, the white-haired boy looked down in shame.

"What happened, Mammon?" Beel asks, curiosity in his voice. Belphie yawns, "..Just tell us already."

The second oldest takes the trinket out of his pocket, making Asmo exclaim. "Oh! You found that little trinket of yours, I have to admit it does look pretty cute." He says, gushing over the item.

"What did you expect, M/C does have good tast-" Levi replies, cutting off his own words. The brothers all stay silent at the mention of your name.

Mammon looks over to the trinket in his hands, and holds it tightly before looking at his brothers.

"Guys, we should've never ignored M/C.."

His brothers' eyes widen in surprise. "W-what happened?.." Asmo asks. "..They cried." Mammon manages to stutter.

Silence takes place once again, however this is cut off by the sound of sprinting. One specific brother runs over to your office, and they don't hesitate to barge in.

Who'll that brother be, dear reader?

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I hope this was fine enough to read 💀 I struggle writing stuff like this so it is a bit rusty 😅

But I have to say, I'm impressed for making myself cry 😭 Nonetheless I really enjoyed writing this!!

Again, credits to @azlrse for the drabble this is based on! I really like it, no doubt it'll be stuck in my brain forever 🙌

If there's any tips or errors you'd like to tell me, don't hesitate to mention them to me! <3

Likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated!! 🥺💜

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #angsty angst >:)#shsjshsj this failed so many times :")#likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated bc tumblr flunked this for me <3

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animegirl89fan · 1 year

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So, on this page I would like to try my hand at a few smaller fanfictions. i also have a page on watpatt, but since i write my fanfiction there in german . I would like to use this forum for a few small ones in English.

since my english is good enough for normal everyday use, but not for writing stories, i use a translation program and hope it is understandable.

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Short description, Son goku has recently had to deal with his niece, who carries many a secret with her.

Warning : Emotional, Family, Heavy Youth, Drugs.

(I'm not a drug advocate, however marijuana helped my brother a lot until he finally had his important pain relieving surgery. So it was prescribed by the doctor)

Still waters run deep.

Yawning once, Son goku scratched the back of his head and opened the fridge to treat himself to a small midnight snack. He knew very well that there was still something left over from dinner. With relish he put the big piece of pizza in his mouth. Chichi had cooked a lot and there wouldn't have been any leftovers if Tony hadn't eaten so little. Far too little for a Saiyan for his taste. But he had to admit that it was probably because she neither trained nor fought. Songoku shook his head once. He couldn't quite make sense of the girl.

How amazed he was 3 weeks ago when his family received a call that a 16 year old girl was being admitted to a hospital on the other side of the world. Definitely with his DNA by blood bank. When he and Vegeta, followed by Piccolo, checked things out, everything had been quite clear. Her age matched the appearance of Raditz and she was definitely only half Saiyan. The youth welfare office was there. She'd been in a little accident on a school field trip, not too bad, a few scrapes, a few bruises. Of course the responsible teacher had dragged her to the hospital against every protest. Where by trying to reach the education authorities, it quickly came out that all the information, all the documents were forged and Tony had registered himself at the school. She completely refused to say where her parents were and who was taking care of her.

Without further ado, Son goku decided to take the young Damme in with him. He didn't want to let a Saiyan come into the youth center, although he was sure that she would make the bend there very quickly. He also wanted to know how it could be that they hadn't noticed for 16 years that there was another Saiyan on earth. How could it be that he hadn't even felt her aura and her fighting power. But as he had observed her then, she was quite weak compared to his sons or the other fighters.

Chichi was initially skeptical about the arrival of the new family member. But Tony had quickly turned out to be a very polite, intimate and helpful girl. Son Goku was quickly drawn to her sense of humor and her love for the earth. But when it came to her mother or the training, she completely refused by talking her way out of the situation. Vegeta drove her "lack of ambition" to insanity. Not only once did he accuse her of being the most pathetic Saiyan of all time and a huge shame. which apparently left her pretty cold. She replies relatively calmly “do we know each other? No ! So how did you get the crazy idea that I would be even remotely interested in what you think of me.” You don't have to be a clairvoyant to know that this was like adding fuel to the fire. Son goku had been busy for a good 20 minutes getting Vegeta under control again, while Piccolo brought the somewhat distraught Tony home.

His niece had grown very fond of him in that short time. Even if he did notice that she was carrying something. But what? slowly he strolled up the stairs to the attic. In which his friends helped him build a nice room for Tony. But when he quietly opened the door to check on her,

he found the room empty. The window was open. Now that he knew her aura, it didn't take Songoku long to locate her.

Loud laughter and music hit him from the big basement of an abandoned apartment building.

Tony saw it with some teenagers and adults in a corner and smoked. From a lecture Songohan had given him as practice for college, Songoku knew exactly what Tony and her friends were doing around the circle. “Antonya!” his voice drowned out the music. The young Saiyan choked and her eyes widened at the sight of him. "..We go now ! Come here now !”

his summons cut the situation sharply. Tony got up slowly and handed her glass of wine to her friends to walk over to him. On the one hand, her body wanted to refuse, all the alarm bells seemed to be ringing loudly in her. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she couldn't make sense of her reaction to her uncle. no one had scared her like that before. She had never felt such authority before and inwardly she was aware that she now had to obey it.

When she was close enough, Songoku grabbed her right elbow and the next moment she found herself in a white and seemingly endless space. “Wow..where?….what?….where are we here!” she swallowed.

“In the space of mind and time. while an hour passes in the outside world, a year passes here. All so the perfect place so that we can clarify a few things!” replied Goku.

Son goku expected a counter-argument on her part, the vocabulary was usually her thing.

But to his satisfaction, this time she let it go. With benevolence he registered that although Tony didn't otherwise make any effort to even begin to challenge himself with the abilities of a Saiyan, she still felt that she was far inferior. Songoku was angry, disappointed and sad.

"You sneak out of the house at night to smoke this." disgusted, he threw a joint at her feet that he had picked up in the basement. Slowly hers came loosevoltage and she straightened up a bit. "I do that regularly and I'm fine,.....my grades are excellent, it doesn't have a negative impact on me." she tried to calm him down.

"If you really assumed your act was okay, you wouldn't have to sneak out, would you?".

caught and somewhat defiant, she let her head slide to the side. "look at me , I'm not done yet! or? " Son goku asked his niece and her head snapped back immediately.

"You numb yourself with these substances, that means you are not honest with yourself!"

With every word he said, he watched the young girl across from him closely. What he read on her face was a mixture of fear, sadness and... anger. He was aware that he had to push her further. "Why do you take that shit!"

" Mind your own business!" she hissed back .

He was on her in a second, grabbing her chin. "it is my business, you're part of my family now, I took you in with us, I'm worried about you.!"

With a small burst of energy, she slapped his hand away. "I've only been with you guys for a couple of weeks, how can you talk about family, why do you think you can judge what's good for me? " she snapped at him, her energy rising. Not remotely that Son Goku should have any worries. But he was slowly getting her where he wanted her. " I'm going home now !" She clarified and made her way towards a small house, which she found. But before she had gone even three steps, her feet were pulled away and she landed on the ground. " do you still have them all!" she yelled. but Son Goku remained unimpressed and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"As far as your stubbornness is concerned, you seem to be typical Saiyan......it's a pity you don't leave me any other choice...!"

"Of course it's your choice.... Shut the crap and let me out of here!"

"For you to keep lying to yourself, I will not allow you to keep lying to yourself."

He stood in her way once more.

“You have two options.

1. you tell me what's going on, why you think you need this stuff and you stop right now,

or...

2. you stay Stuhr, try to get out of this situation. I'll stop you, but then you'll have to fight me."

" lick me!" yelled Tony, trying to run past him, earning her a half-goat punch in the stomach. She straightened herself over and over again. It doesn't matter if she tries to get past Son Goku, sometimes punches or kicks him. He dodged, grabbed her leg and threw her away from the entrance again. A good 20 minutes passed and Tony was almost completely on the ground. "ahhhhhhhh this sucks, why can't you just leave me alone!" she yelled in frustration.

" You are angry!"

"Yes, I'm angry, I'm always angry! That's why I smoke it to control the anger. Not feeling it anymore." Slowly the anger subsided with this confession and she noticed Songoku's aura softening as well he looked cross-legged at her head. "I thought so....but just suppressing them won't do you any good in the long run...you have to let that anger out!"

"But then bad things happen, then I lose everyone I care about."Tony's voice grew quieter.

She had never voiced that fear before.

"When I was 4 years old, I was thrown out of the kindergarten because I beat up another child. He laughed at me because of my monkey tail. My mother was very angry,.... the people from the village didn't speak to me anymore. Nobody wanted to have anything to do with me." Songoku listened to her silently and attentively." When I turned 6, my mom went out with a friend at night.It was the first time I was home alone, it was the first time I stayed up that late....and the first time I saw the full moon.."

Both were silent for a while." ..when I awake , half the village was destroyed.My mother.....she and the villagers were hiding in caves in the mountains.When I found them, they were screaming in fear that I was a monster, abominable. I didn't know what had happened until you told me about the Saiyan and the Uzaro. I realized it......you should have seen the disgust in my mother's eyes......she put me in a children's home." Slowly Goku's hands placed on her shoulders and pulled her up to him as his arms pulled the girl into a tight hug.

“In nursery I met a girl who I became friends with , we became like sisters, when we were about 11 the boys wouldn't leave her alone, she cried and I lost control again. I almost beat the guys to pieces, after that she was scared of me…………….I fled onto the street and met a couple of guys who offered me marijuana, I quickly realized that I could forget the anger that way, but not them felt more. could have a normal life. ..when i get angry i lose everything. bad things happen!”

“These things didn't happen because you were angry. but because no one has shown you how to channel the anger. to handle her." Songoku felt a lump in his throat. He would have liked to have met her sooner. “ because nobody showed you who and what you are. But I will do that from now on. You just have to let me teach you...I'll show you how strong you are! I won't leave you alone anymore! "

#son goku #dragon ball z #saiyan

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 3 years

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Asano/F!Darling: Unconventional Methods (VI)

TW: Noncon/dubcon, unhealthy power dynamic, unhealthy relationship, abuse of authority, spanking

____ didn't mind Asano's smaller outside assignments that much, especially compared to that first lesson. She knew when they would come since he only ever sent them during her breaks or outside of work hours, and having time to write a response was less stressful than being put on the spot and having to look at him. Still...Asano's questions and requests were enough to make her squirm in her seat even when they weren't sexual.

"How many partners have you had, including the ex-boyfriend you mentioned? Were you sexually active with them as well?"

"Have you always lived on your own? Do you ever feel a desire to live with someone or feel intense loneliness at home?"

"Have you ever had a near-death experience?"

"Send a photo of the toy you mentioned using. Describe its function and how often you use it each week."

"Was your family life turbulent growing up?"

"Have you ever been struck during a sexual encounter (eg. Slapping, spanking, scratching) or experienced pain (eg. hair-pulling, biting)? If so, describe the action and how you responded to it."

That last one made her feel especially worried. She'd never done anything rougher than maybe getting her hair pulled and being called a cute little slut by her ex whenever he'd talk dirty to her. And compared to Asano, a black belt who famously defeated his teacher on his third day of class, her ex wasn't much of a fighter.

____ sighed and tried to focus on the papers she was supposed to be grading in 1A's classroom while the instructor taught the students. Principal Asano was just trying to make her uncomfortable by asking her, and probably by making her wonder if he really was planning on hurting her like that during one of his lessons. Speaking of which...it had been one week since her third lesson. The last two weren't as sexual as the first, but they were just as stressful. The second lesson was almost like a regular lecture, aside from the fact that she'd been completely nude the entire time. Asano had given her a small stack of education and psychology textbooks for her to annotate and study in his office while he watched her. Any time she moved the book up or hunched over the small table he'd provided for her to hide her breasts, he'd told her to sit up straight and she reluctantly obeyed.

The third lesson had involved her "shadowing" him while he did his own work; thankfully she got to keep her clothes on for this one, but she spent the entire time in his lap. Occasionally his hands would wander between her thighs to ghost against her panties, and eventually she noticed how he was subtly rocking his hips every so often while a slight bulge nudged her backside. It didn't seem to faze him in the slightest though; whenever he'd show her one of the documents he was working on or made a phonecall, his voice didn't seem tense or strained at all while she sat in his lap.

She understood why he needed to make her so uncomfortable, and he'd patiently explained to her more than once that her personal inexperience was why so many of these lessons were sexual--you're least comfortable when trying something new. But it still felt so wrong to do things like this, even if her boss explicitly said it was okay. Is that why she didn't want to ask any of her coworkers for advice or whether they thought this was an appropriate teaching method? Asano hadn't ever said to keep it secret, after all. Still...she'd have to admit that she and Asano had done all of these things together--on campus, in his office! Even if it was to make her a better teacher--and even if the other faculty members believed that--she could never look them in the eye ever again. ____'s face flushed with heat and she hurriedly made her way down the hall to Asano's office; maybe after this lesson she could ask him if she should discuss his program with any of the other teachers.

____ knocked at Asano's door and waited for him to reply. "Come in." Immediately she stepped inside, closed the door, and locked it from the inside; now that she'd had multiple lessons in his office, she had learned the routine for the start of his lessons. Asano was at his desk and peering at the documents in his hand. "Sit." He hadn't even looked up from his papers.

____ eagerly walked to the chair in front of his desk and sat with her legs crossed. "Um, sir," she began, "Before we start, I wanted to--"

"We've already started today's lesson," Asano interrupted, his voice soft but firm and commanding as ever. "Once we've finished, you can talk to me about your concerns."

____ pressed her lips together in a line and tried not to sound too bothered by him dismissing her so quickly. "What will today's lesson involve?" She prayed over and over in her mind: nothing sexual, nothing sexual, nothing sexual...

Asano finally glanced up from his papers to look her over, and ____ tried her best not to meet his gaze. "I want to see how well you've studied the books I lent to you," he said. "Nothing too exhaustive, just a cursory review with an oral quiz." He moved his seat back and rested his arms on either side of the chair. "Put yourself on my lap, facing down on your stomach."

____ hesitantly rose up and moved around the desk to lay down the way Asano had ordered. The arms of the chair pushed against her chest and upper thighs, but not enough to be anything more than mildly cumbersome. She flinched slightly when she felt his hand move to pull up the bottom of her skirt and expose her rear end to the cool air of his office. "S-sir?"

Asano moved one hand to rest over her back while the other cupped the soft flesh of her backside. "For every question you're unable to answer, you'll get a penalty." He squeezed her ass gently and felt ____ squirm as he toyed with her. "I'll guide you to a proper answer until you manage to discover it for yourself. First: Gardner's theory of multiple intelligences is not a theory applied to most schools in Japan. Tell me why you think that is."

____ shifted in her seat. Were all the questions going to be this open-ended? "Ah...L-let me see," she murmured. It was difficult to think straight when you were upside down and your boss was groping your ass. "Well, Gardner's theory is...u-um, it comes from a Western perspective of intelligence? Kunugigaoka's teaching methods are based heavily off of, of collectivism and group efforts being important. So it may not be applicable here?"

Asano pursed his lips. "Is collectivism solely an Eastern value? Not to mention, you're forgetting one of the cornerstones of our teaching methods is behaviorism--a concept theorized in Europe and the United States."

"Oh. That's true," ____ admitted. "I'm sorry, Asano-sa--"

A sudden smack against her ass startled her followed by a stinging pain made her tear up immediately. She'd never been hit this hard before, and she immediately felt a lump in her throat as she started to cry. "Apologize by considering a better answer," Asano said coldly. "Think carefully about how Gardner's theory contrasts with different policies and standards in Japan."

____ sniffled and cried as he had spoken, and continued to after he'd told her to try again. 'I...u-um, let me...I...A-Asano-san, I..." She tried to think about the question, she really did. "I've never been spanked before, th-this really hurts..."

Asano gently rubbed the place he'd struck her and she let out a small whine; even him comforting her hurt. "It's a new experience, and an effective one," he said. "You're more likely to remember and retain what I say with a physical trigger." He squeezed her ass and felt her squirm again. "Try again."

____ bit the inside of her cheek and tried to ignore the sting and the heat coming from her skin. "Um. Gardner's theories...they imply that each type of intelligence is...a student with one strength does better with a different type of learning method, and a student with a different one would do better with an-another one," she rambled. "But school exams only test the ability to retain a-and apply information. A...a student with high kinetic intelligence, they might struggle on a written exam be-because it tests a different set of skills. R-right?" She looked up at Asano as best as she could for a sign that she had given the right answer.

Asano smiled and tucked a piece of stray hair behind her ear. "A much better answer," he confirmed. "A school setting emphasizes and values different types of intelligence over others, and so does society as a whole." Asano squeezed and played with her upper thigh, and ____ felt his fingers coming closer and closer to between her legs until he was pressing against her clothed slit. "At Kunugigaoka however, I've tried to incorporate the needs of students who aren't gifted with the natural intelligence that exams cover. Even if a student's resistant to conventional teaching and study methods, I've found that a forceful approach can work through that rigidity." He smirked and felt ____ squeeze her thighs around his hand as a he played with her clit. "Next question."

____ tried to gather her thoughts as best as she could while being toyed with over Asano's knee. Shouldn't she be answering these questions while NOT being so distracted? How is she supposed to give a proper response when he's touching her and groping her like this? "S-sir, I understand the purpose of being spanked--um, struck? Learning with a physical trigger. But it's distracting me and I can't focus on what I've studied..."

Asano nodded and slipped some of his fingers past her underwear, pulling them down to press directly against her cunt. She gasped through her nose and felt a wave of shame after she felt her body clench around his fingertips. "That's the point," Asano explained patiently. "If you've studied properly then you should be able to recall information easily, even under stress." He could feel a small bit of lubrication around her entrance making it easier to slip the tip of his middle finger inside. "You did study, didn't you?"

"Y-yes," ____ insisted. "I just didn't think it would be this...ah, this..." She trailed off and whimpered at the feeling of his finger rubbing against a sensitive spot; she didn't even realize that she had started to rock her hips back and forth in time with his hand. "Sir, please!"

Asano narrowed his eyes at ____ as he continued to play with her with one hand. He knew she wasn't experienced with this kind of stimulation, but that wasn't any excuse to act so childishly. "Please? Please do what? I can't stop just because you're uncomfortable, you know that. Now, for the next question. The study conducted on adolescents aged 12 and 13 is referenced often in chapter 3 of the textbook on memory I sent you. The two students in the study failed to keep up with the lessons during the experiment and suffered nervous breakdowns from the strain of the coursework. Why do the authors frame this as something positive?"

____ tried to remember the article he was asking about, but her thoughts were clouded and scattered as she felt a creeping feeling of pleasure and tension in her core. What was that article about? Not memory, that was the one in chapter 2...No, it was about the correlation between classroom size, curriculum density, and...and short class periods? "Ah...The students who had breakdowns," she started, not even sure of what she was trying to say. "The authors theorized it was b-because the intensity of the material being covered and the short--ooh...short class periods. U-um, the teaching method focused on parallel thinking and had them all studying multiple things at the same t-time, and the two students couldn't take...couldn't take it anymore..."

____ let out a frustrated groan and tried to move her hips away from Asano's hand. "Please, I can't," she insisted. "I can't do both at the same time, I can't think when you--"

Asano pulled her hips back into place and quickly covered her mouth with one hand before slapping her ass again. She screamed and started to sob against the palm keeping her somewhat quiet. "You aren't answering the question, you're re-stating it," he said irritably. "Not only that, but you're interrupting the lesson by moving away like that." He raised his hand again and ____ instinctively tried to move out of the way and tried to reach up and block him from hitting her; his eyes darkened and in one swift movement, he pushed her over against the desk and gripped her wrists behind her back while keeping his other hand on her mouth.

"You've disrupted my lesson twice now," he said icily. "If you're so eager to act like an unruly child and throw a tantrum, I'm more than happy to put it on hold to correct this." He dug his nails into the flesh of her wrists and she screamed again. "I'm going to let go of your wrists, and you're going to keep your hands on this desk until I tell you to put then behind your back. Do you understand?"

____ clenched her fists and tried her best to nod while her head was turned to the side against his desk while she continued to cry. This already hurt so much, and she couldn't imagine what he'd do if she tried to run out of the room or fight back. "Mm...Mhh-mm." She sniffled and choked back some of her sobs to try and respond. Asano, true to his word, let go of her wrists and she immediately placed them on the edge of the desk. Her knuckles lightened as she gripped the wood as hard as possible, and the ache of her hands distracted her from the sting of her lower thighs and the strain on her neck and upper body being pressed against his desk.

After a few seconds, she felt his hand take one of her wrists; a strip of cloth was in his hand, and she felt it brush against her own skin. "Behind your back," he ordered. ____ complied and put her hands together again. She felt the silk of Asano's tie wrap around her and tighten until it was firmly keeping her wrists bound. He took her by the crook of her arm and moved his other hand to let her breathe more easily through her nose while he kept her mouth covered. "Back in the chair."

Soon she was back in his lap, though this time her hands were in an uncomfortable raised position thanks to his necktie. "Obviously you're not able to continue with the quiz I had in mind today," Asano said, sighing in disappointment. "Still, I'm not going to cut our lesson short just because of your outburst." ____ felt a few more tears well up at just how upset and disappointed he sounded in her. She didn't want to be a brat. She didn't want to disrupt his lesson, but she just couldn't think straight. "Instead, we'll be reviewing something much more elementary to match your attitude." Her heart sank as she felt his hand rest on the curve of her ass again. "The two of us are going to count. I think that ten should be high enough."

____ caught a glimpse of his hand as he raised it up and bit her lower lip to try and steel herself before he spanked her again. The harsh slap of skin against skin followed by a new rush of aching pain left her sobbing pathetically underneath him. His voice was soft and eerily cheery as he brushed a few fingers over where he'd hit her. "One."

Slap. "Two."

Slap. "Three."

____ heard the rush of blood roaring in her ears until she could hear nothing else, not even the spankings or her own crying. It sounded so far away, just like Asano's voice. "Four...five..."

The breaks in between each spanking grew longer and longer, and Asano could hear her wails become less and less loud and obnoxious until they died down to short whimpers after each slap. Her lips were slightly parted behind his hand, but she wasn't pouting and wincing anymore; it seemed that she'd spent all of her energy and her tantrum had finally subsided. He peered down at her slightly-tilted head and noted the glazed-over look in her visibly reddened eyes as she stared off into space. Dissociation was a common side effect when it came to his students, a clear sign that they were at their limit and--even better--their minds were much easier to mould now that their subconscious was preoccupied elsewhere. For ____ in particular, it was a key step in training her. Right now she had learned she couldn't resist him, and with the right positive and negative reinforcement she'd learn to love his guiding hand.

"Six." Smack.

"Mm..."

"Seven." Smack.

"Mmm."

An impulsive part of him, specifically the part responsible for the slight tent in his pants as he watched her stare blankly and become more and more compliant and complacent with each strike. She clearly wasn't cut out to teach, not with how well she fit in his lap and how satisfying it was to hear her soft moans. He imagined how much better it would be to see her transition from resistant and defiant, to blank and defeated, and finally to eager and adoring once he'd finally finished grooming her into his ideal "protégé."

"Eight...Nine...Ten."

#.assassination classroom #yandere assassination classroom #yandere asano #.asano #asano's darling #fem darling #tw: noncon #.myshit

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heli0s-writes · 3 years

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IV. Symbiosis

Summary: “Since you’ve been caught—” Fury squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries. Petty theft. Grand larceny. The damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

A/N: 4.8k words. I’m a liar who lies because after 4 months of overthinking and coming up with diddly squat, here is part 4 of Trinity Epoch sans smut. I’m sorry! I’ll double your pleasure next time. xx Thank you for sticking with me, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.

Warnings: Language. References to canon-typical violence.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

Bucky stays like that a while longer, just breathing.

Your fingers trace his hair—running through the strands, over the shell of his ear, then resting briefly on his cheek. All the ways you used to with Natasha when she’d break her own heart, or maybe ways you would have liked her to have done for you when you felt like you were dying a little bit.

You feel it now: a small death in the wake of last night’s simple touches. Your body and Steve’s body curled around each other sprung something immeasurable, as if the drift flowered then and ripened beneath your skins. You bit into it. You savored its taste. You could have lived on it alone.

Everything smears together like a child’s careless hand in a mess of paints until all the brights muddle dark. A shaky breath as you work yourself into calming, trying to find coherent words while your head remains a pot of sideways soup, at best.

Bucky shifts until he’s looking up at you, nose millimeters away. His irises are just a touch more gray, a sprinkle less green. You can see Steve in him, just as he can see Steve in you and then your eyes begin to prickle, Nat’s face undulating behind the burn.

You don’t really know what you want to say. Maybe apologize, run, beg for forgiveness, grab Bucky by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that you didn’t mean it— you didn’t mean to hurt him. That you love him. That he lives inside you, too.

His ghost from the drift— the aftermath phenomena of the neural bridge when pilots take on a bit of each other’s consciousness out of the cockpit and into the world with them. Take two people with a predisposition for the drift into the cockpit into each other’s brains and they exit heightened—sharper, better—imbued with each other’s strengths and knowledge. Mind-meld long enough, deep enough, and your core endures, but you become a different beast.

When Steve’s consciousness bled into yours, so did Bucky’s. If you walked away with half of Rogers, you also got a quarter of Barnes and it only compounded worse during Polidori’s drop. Resurrecting trauma, agitating itself, making a mess of your weary soul.

You relived his amputation last night, just as fresh as you relived Nat’s death. More visceral than the first trial run, you witnessed him—felt him—torn and hoarse, clutching his shoulder as he rocked helplessly inside Orion’s chest, frayed wires sparking across his cheek and landing in his own blood. His teeth gnashing together as he tried to hold on for Steve’s sake, steering his co-pilot’s panic back on course. Terrified and agonized, but he was hellbent on making it out.

Bucky who made you laugh. Bucky who took you to dinner. Who walked with you, gave you his jacket, listened to your rambling and crying, and kissed you because you reminded him of his co-pilot, or maybe of himself.

How could you not love him, after all this?

Armageddon slows for nothing though, and before the first letter of his name can fall out recklessly from your mouth, three precise thumps jostles it back in.

Steve’s voice is muffled through heavy steel. “You in there?”

The door slides open with a tremulous croak but neither of you bother to separate. Nothing seems to matter now.

“Buck...” Steve looks from one raw face to the other, stepping forward and reaching out. He grasps Bucky’s hand. “We should talk—” he closes his mouth into a thin line, shoulders slumping heavily before letting go. “I’m sorry. Later. Shit’s hit the fan.”

The office is stagnant air full of questions but other than the squeak of the marshal leaning back in his chair, nobody makes a sound.

Fury untucks a finger from the crook of his elbow before pointing it between your eyes.

“Culpability.”

Across the room, you flinch in his crosshairs. Standing apart from them, you’re partially slack against one of many steel filing cabinets, using it to prop yourself up in case your knees might give out as vertigo descends.

It’s been a lot to take in. Everything— the night, the morning, emotionally, mentally, physically. The hull is a steel cage, and pilots are well armored, but you’re still hooked up to the robot enduring damage, taking hits at barely .0001 percent, but taking it all the same. You’re bruised up good beneath your clothes— Polidori’s claws leaving four tender imprints of a scratch to Orion’s right shoulder. Your shoulder. Steve’s shoulder.

To your right, he shifts. A tiny hint of pain streaks over his expression before it falls serene again, fixed on Fury.

“Since you’ve been caught—” the marshal squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries, petty theft, grand larceny, the damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

This thing, being any story a 13-year old kid with two thumbs and a twitter account can spin between now and when you let Pepper Potts spin it for you first. There’s not a lot imagination can’t conjure to fill in the blank pixelated space between Bucky standing on the curb and you right behind him wearing his cap and jacket. Not to mention that once speculation goes live, it starts sprouting all sorts of appendages with minds of their own, and no matter how diligently you might cut one off, two would only sprout in its place.

The marshal stands up and takes heavy steps before turning the corner of his desk, absently tapping a pile of folders together like they’re not already in a perfect column. He slips a manila folder out from the stack and it becomes obvious that his suggestion is just buildup to some other type of impetus.

When you open the file up under his sharp gaze, you feel the blood drain from your face and possibly from your entire body.

The bullet he aimed between your eyes hits home. Cue your brains blowing out slow. Impetus met.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky appears over your shoulder, staring at the same grainy photocopied document. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I make a lot of jokes?” Fury leans forward, pointer curving over the top edge, tapping emphatically one, two, three times, even waving it back and forth in front of your unseeing eyes. “I’ve got a good contact inside the PPDC who risked a lot to get this out. They’re just plans for now, dogeared behind other pages, but don’t doubt the Corps’ cowardice for a second. The second this program looks like it might not hold up, they’ll turn their efforts there.”

You’re gone. Trapped between the lines, vehemently scanning the page, reading the same words over and over until they no longer make sense. But it’s not like they made any sense in the first place.

ANTI-KAIJU WALL: CONSTRUCTION AGENDA. SPRING 2020.

The conception of a perimeter stretching around the Pan Pacific—North and Central America, East and South Asia to isolate emerging Kaiju. It’s a fetal skeleton at most, the roughest of outlines for a plan, and truthfully, it’s no plan at all.

It’s shameful. It’s shit.

The so-called Wall of Life implies the portending death of the Program—of all Shatterdomes and Jaegers. It implies no support, no funding, and no repairs. No Kodiak. No juniors. No future.

Back and forth, you’re still desperately inspecting as if the words might shift into a new message, maybe one that didn’t spell out certain extinction, but despair is rippling across your face. Bi Fang and Polidori had wings, and they were only Category II. Bi Fang massacred one of the best pilots you’ve ever known—and it was only a Category II. Any higher and they’d blow through that wall like a ribbon of wet toilet paper.

Hysteria creeps up at the mere thought of it, fear stubbornly lodging itself in your throat. Nuclear-powered automata—the only proven defense against the terror of massive alien attacks are being dismantled in favor of steel rods and cinderblocks. They might as well build it out of Legos.

Anti-Kaiju Wall. A string of ants meeting a boot.

You’re panting softly, tongue swollen in your mouth, shaking with equal parts terror and rage, on the verge of breaking into inappropriate laughter and yelling.

“What—what do they expect?” You croak, “The breach opens, the fucking thing comes out, sees a fence, and what—they think it’s—going to crawl back in…?”

“Hey, calm down,” Bucky curls his fingers around your elbow. His hand and its black plates are peering at you, purring, dull gold bands threading at the knuckles. For a second, the prosthetic disappears. For a second, he’s blood red again.

“Hey!” Bucky grips tightly when you sway. “I’m fine! Don’t—don’t.” Steve’s jaw is set firmly on your other side, arms crossed so severely his biceps bulge with the strain.

“Nick,” He’s abruptly brusque as he eases the file from your grip. “Give us a minute.”

“You’re in my office.” But the marshal’s words hold no bite. He’s already won; he knows. Cornered again, he’s got you same as before in Red Cloud.

You get the gist: play out your redemption arc and come clean with your record. Win over the public, hoard all the additional support and funding you can because you’ll need every goddamn cent of it when the PPDC rips it away. The gossip. The photos. The headlines. It’s the perfect opportunity for a few hundred million when the media is putting a magnifying glass on your presence in Hong Kong.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

You’re just one small part of this colossal puzzle—a negligible smear of guts across the battlefield trying to keep the rest of the pieces together while the PPDC sits in their panic rooms throttling the entire fucking thing.

Fury steps to the cabinet and slides the file back in its place, keeping the illusion of it being just another unremarkable envelope in a row of hundreds of others. The metal drawer shuts with a clang, housing the most damning piece of information you’ve ever seen. His tact aside, you know he would never show you his hand like this if it wasn’t completely necessary—or pertinent.

Steve was right, you understand now.

The world owes you. And it owns you.

The next six—seven?—hours scatter like pulled teeth with your head spinning like a top the entire way. Pepper had been outside the door for the conversation, waiting on standby to whisk you off for princess lessons. Having already (and correctly) predicted your compliance, Fury scheduled an interview for precisely at nine. Then you were off, towed along by Miss Potts and her hasty strut.

You try to find perspective, reminding yourself that you’ve successfully gone toe-to-toe with the Empire State Building with fifteen rows of teeth seven fucking times and come out on the other side alive and if not in one whole piece, then at least 2-3 relatively serviceable pieces. You’re functional. A little damaged, but fine enough. But there’s also the fact that you’d just hopped out of Orion not even 24 hours ago coupled with how you’re suddenly in the middle of something that feels less like a confused love triangle and more like divine providence at the end of the world.

Fuck. No time to think about it now. The human brain is not programmed to multitask, and you’re hanging on by a mere thread. You prioritize making it through the night just as alive as you can make it out of a drop. Just a couple of hours and you can rest. Just a couple more.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of simulating Q&A, practicing your posture, smiling into a mirror, and one horrible limo ride where you stared dead-eyed out the window—Steve and Bucky’s steely gazes after you—the building finally comes into view.

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. You wear pants. You smile for the camera. You don’t stand in the middle of the group photo.

8:55 and time halts to a near stop. You can hear your heart in your throat, or in your skull. Your eyes feel switched from their sockets, or stomach rotated 30 degrees. Someone fixes your mic wire, your blouse collar, asking you to turn just a little over there. Three cameras are pointed to capture every angle, punitive red dots angry and glaring.

A live broadcast was agreed upon to ensure the least amount of potential edits and skews, as well as the charmingly quaint idea that it’s unscripted. The rub, therein, lies upon the burden of poise and a flawless performance. You rehearsed lines until your jaw felt like it was coming unhinged. Then you did it again.

Everything requires precision, and you keep that in mind with your hand on the glass of Dom Perignon being constantly refilled. An amicable gesture by the hosts, but their intentions are cunning: loose lips sink ships, and they’re betting on yours to sink the S.S. Orion Bravo.

Out of view, the translator sits with her legs crossed, listening to the questions before turning the words over in English.

You take a sip of champagne and it fires off like a gunshot—Cantonese and English in rapid-fire verses.

<2017 was a fateful year for both the Jaeger Program and the world. Beloved pilot Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life to protect Alaska’s coast in a final battle against Category 2 Bi Fang. Memorials dedicated to Romanoff’s efforts appeared across every nation to lament her death and celebrate her heroism. Yet, somehow, no one seemed to be asking the million-dollar question: Where is her co-pilot?>

The host’s open hand urges your reply.

The lights seem to turn up even brighter. Your back starts sweating. The room is about to collapse. In short, naturally—infuriatingly—you choke.

Seven hours of droning like a broken wind up toy, already knowing how to answer this question by heart, prepping yourself for the interrogation, the relentless demand to publicize your grief, to placate the people about your relationship with their heroes—and, you choke.

Bucky’s chin tilts microscopically in the corner of your line of vision. You’re fine, he’s saying, you got it. He’s strangely calm, even pleased, as you stutter involuntarily. Like he’s the first to remember an inside joke you’d long forgotten, his grin widens the longer you look at him. Steve turns next. Focus. Don’t fight the drift. The drift is silence.

And suddenly, your shoulders ease. The static in your exhausted brain slides out of your ears.

You sit up tall. You smile. It doesn’t quite feel like your smile, but, it’s a good one. You know this smile; it’s Steve’s smile. Like a seamless assembly, you fall into rhythm.

The white of his teeth slip out from between Steve’s lips. He notices too.

You calmly recite the introductory speech you’d been practicing for the last two hours, feeling out your new voice, borrowing from his bearing—deeper, smoother, certain. The major points get run through: your record and own personality traits keeping you from the spotlight, admitting genuinely that you’re pretty damn uncomfortable now, so they’ll have to forgive you for any slip ups. It goes over well, as Pepper predicted; “candid” blunders made Rangers human—made them likable.

When the subject of Anchorage rolls back around, you can practically feel Steve’s jaw bulging preemptively. You graze his foot with yours as a warning to back off.

<It’s remarkable that you were able to bring the Jaeger back to shore, there has been only one pilot who was capable of that—>

“I’m thankful to have had Stacker Pentecost as my mentor. I owe so much of my resilience to him. It was difficult, but simply put, I had no other choice. I feel so lucky to have survived it.”

“She was one of a kind.”

“Yes.”

The host clears his throat, visibly awkward that you’re being so terse, but taking the hint until Bucky turns into the spotlight, that divorced happiness he’s so skilled at beaming into the lenses.

Steve easily picks it up, steering the conversation where he wants it to go. He’s disarmingly sincere as he relays the process of Bucky’s injury, replacement, apprehension, and finally success

His bright blue eyes flicker secret messages and you decipher them all.

“The connection was like—"

There’s a bell chiming in your ears. Bright, crisp chirps of it, cutting through laughter and bickering. You taste summer air in your throat, Bucky’s hair flying in the wind. “Riding a bike…”

“Exactly. New bike, same motions, and it worked. It was great. We learned things about each other. Some good, some bad—”

Crosshatched pencil lines of their shared apartment. Smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook. “He’s an unbelievable artist, but—”

“No— don’t say it!”

Bucky smothering a small kitchen fire. Steve throwing a damp rag on him in a frantic attempt to assist. Your voice is bubbling out gleefully. “—an awful cook!”

“It’s true,” Bucky smugly chimes in. “The boy can’t boil water. Breakfast eggs come with shells every time.” You can taste the grit between your molars—crushed grains inside an overdone omelet, Bucky spitting out spinach and feta cheese.

“Oh my god,” you sputter into a sip of champagne. “It’s so bad.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with? Two people knowing my secrets. Two.”

<Fantastic! Already we can see a great friendship here—>

It seems congratulatory, but there’s determination to drive into scandalous territory, poking at any rumor to lance and leak. A sly smile crosses his face as his assistant shows photos of you and Bucky in the city, but the lurid suggestion only gets shrugged off. “We’d gone out for dinner. It was the first time I’d left the Shatterdome after Seigehook and I needed moral support.”

“I’d give you my jacket if you looked cold.”

<Steve, Ophelia isn’t concerned that your new co-pilot is a woman?>

“No, absolutely not. ‘Lia’s the first person to support Orion—and the loudest. I don’t know what I’d do without her. You don’t have her behind the curtain, too, do you?”

<Well, what about personal memories? Won’t you know everything about each other…? Private things?>

“Sure, but what pair of pilots don’t? You got twins and siblings, not just married couples. Look, here’s the thing: the neural bridge doesn’t take you to a filing cabinet. It’s not open like that. It’s more like—somebody help me—” Bucky snaps his fingers your way, “—what’d you call it the other day?”

You didn’t, but you say, “A dream?”

“Right, a dream. If you think about it, you can pull on it, but if it’s not in the forefront of your mind. It’s a non-issue.”

“We’re all adults here,” Steve confirms.

Steve’s palm faces outward as if keeping the host at bay— or, you think, keeping himself at bay. “Hold on. This isn’t about replacement. Nobody is framing it like a nail in the coffin—we’re in the interim of a period of time, readjusting. Short of death, nothing is going to take him away.”

Sunlight. Recruitment. Ice baths. Training until they had to carry each other to bed. Your eyes flutter, head pilfering through the memories like instinct.

“James is still Orion’s co-pilot.” You agree. Apprehension. Dread. Terror. Confidence in each other even when they didn’t believe in themselves. They were together. Nothing else mattered. “Steve’s co-pilot.”

The tight look on his face is temporarily wiped as he beams proudly, “He’s my Bucky. Always has been, always will be.” He claps Bucky on the back twice and each thump’s echo bounces its way into your chest.

Bucky bristles and sputters, but a healthy pink dusts its way across his cheeks, “Don’t embarrass me, Rogers.”

“Are you blushing?” You tease, elated.

“Don’t you start, either.”

<Well… this is very wonderful. Is there a possibility we’ll be seeing a triple-piloted machine? The Tang triplets have been in talks for a new model.>

Steve shakes his head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. Nothing’s off the table, by any means. Just not priority at the moment.”

“Normalcy, as much as we can get in the middle of all this.” Bucky holds out his hand, closing it into a fist, letting the camera zoom in. “We’re… still working through all the kinks, balancing the personal and global.”

He flexes his fingers, letting the microphones pick up the drone of machinery, but his meaning is another secret. Clicking Morse codes of well-oiled obsidian plates purring two names. You’ve stopped listening to everything but the echo incandescent in your heart.

You down your glass.

Champagne tipsy, you try not to stagger through the lobby. The doorman nods toward the limousine parked faithfully by the curb.

The barrage of questions slowed after it became apparent that there would be no sensationalist headline. There was attention to Bucky’s arm, his handsome face, of course, before the banter quickly devolved into entertaining frivolous sidebar queries. Five flutes bubbled down your throat and by the end of it, you no longer wanted to grab camera one and shake the shit out of it, anger whittled down to a dull hum of annoyance.

Thirty million stupid dollars for inane reels of:

What’s in your purse? What do you eat? How do you stay feminine in a Shatterdome full of testosterone—have you tried any K-beauty skincare routines? Do you have anyone special in your life?

Bucky went in, then, leaning forward until he was nearly rocking off and leveled his glare. You know she’s on the other side of the same robot, buckled up into a ninety-pound rig steering two-hundred tons of—

It took a miracle (see: Steve’s firm hand discreetly on the back of Bucky’s neck and Pepper drawing a sharp line across her throat) to effectively halt the derailing train.

“I can’t believe,” Bucky grouses now, opening the door and waving the driver back to the front. “Those goddamn questions.”

“Does wiping my sweaty face with my even sweatier shirt count as skincare? What’s the K stand for?”

Bucky smacks the back of your head with one hand, other clumsily yanking the door open with the other. “For Korean—have you been living under a rock? Just—get in the fuckin’ car.”

You slap him back. “Quit it, you invalid.”

“Invalid? I’ll show you a fuckin’—Steve, did you hear—”

“Both of you, get in the car.”

And you shriek, scrambling in and yanking Bucky along by the scruff of his jacket. Mischief courses beneath your skin, encouraged by clever alcohol, now fully buzzed its way to every extremity.

Still giggling and leaning into the thrill of it, you slump over the smooth plastic molding of the door and press your face against the tinted window. It’s a cool reprieve on your warmed cheek, frosting when your temperature meet the glass. Bucky’s easy Cantonese, albeit slurred, is requesting a ride back to base. His hand has found its way into yours, fingers laced large and warm, clasping tight before he lets go.

“Haven’t had a drink—oh--” you murmur, catching yourself as the wheels shift.

“Since Red Cloud.”

“Outta my head, Rogers.”

“Says the person who kept finishing my sentences during that interview.”

“It’s the champagne! It makes me—“

“Stupid?”

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” But you’re laughing at him, at the way he’s smirking— cheeks gone ruddy. Both of them, open beside each other, heads inclined intuitively together. It makes you ache to see—to experience again after disruption—Rogers and Barnes. Barnes and Rogers. Perfectly fitted.

The partition slides up. The sunroof tugs open with a whistling draft.

Hong Kong’s lights are vivid—too much to properly see the extent of space’s beauty, but there are a few twinkles you’re able to make out in the moonless night as light poles and skyscraper tips whiz overhead. They’re brighter than most, simple to spot patterns in the dark.

“Orion’s out tonight,” you mutter, moving to catch the line of its belt, “Look. Beneath his feet is Lepus, the hare, pursued for all time.” From across, Steve follows, also looking to find their hero as your hair rustles wildly, making a hurricane against your ear.

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Bucky scolds. He’s annoyed and comfortable on leather, ankle crossed over opposite knee. “You’re not being chased by anything. Besides, if you were a constellation, you’d probably be the soup ladle.”

You laugh. He’s always playing the part of a stoic so well. “Hey, I’ll have you know the Little Dipper’s got the north star in it. That soup ladle’s gonna be the thing that gets you home when you’re lost.”

The tone shifts—time dragging its pace as you look at them in wonder. The city’s overripe heaviness of the blows through, making goosebumps on heated skin.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky slips his jacket from his shoulders to slide over yours. He tugs the lapels down like he’s trying to keep you on earth and your hands clasp on his wrists for a second before you let go. They’re both sitting up now, watching your bleary gaze unfocus.

Steve and Bucky oscillate in front of your eyes, their lines blurring until it doesn’t really matter who you’re looking at—until they become one. So easy, like this, just them like two sides of the same coin, belonging so seamlessly to each other.

“Sorry,” you blurt in shame, “I feel like I fucked it up. Ruined a thing that wasn’t mine to ruin.”

“Think you put it together,” Steve responds quietly, and the simplicity of his statement throws you off. “We found our way.”

“Soup ladle,” Bucky jokes.

“But, aren’t we just trading one war for another? World peace only made it because of monsters.” Unspoken questions hidden inside large-scale metaphors— symbiosis could only be achieved under the lies of other relationships. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t be accepted. Steve still retains his supermodel girlfriend and you and Bucky dutifully fall in line for your own packaged little PR lies.

He shrugs. “I’m fine with losing a few battles in this war, but Orion’s got a good track record, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Twelve— thirteen kills, sweetheart.” Bucky’s grin is lopsided. “Don’t forget you made that happen.”

“Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Feels lucky to me.” Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse. He taps your skin, looking genuinely apologetic. “Listen, all I can do is ask— and I’m not good at asking for things. I just want to make them happen.” A quick glance at the watch under his cuffs and he tugs at your arm like a lost child, “So, before we get back… will you come here?”

As he said, he’s not really asking. More like reaching his will out to you, finding you when you’re caught in the undertow and pulling you back to safety. To them. Okay. Okay.

Your footing slips, but they take your hands and turn you carefully, letting you settle in between. Bucky hums a low sound, fingers curling around your waist. Steve does the same to the opposite side and you feel both torn apart and held together by them.

Steve nuzzles your neck, hot on your skin.

“She was wrong,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of your rising breath, “You know that? She was wrong, and I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t happen—thought I had other priorities, other things to manage and settle and save and... I lost sight of what matters most. But I’m gonna really fix it this time—I’m gonna do it right by you.”

He looks to Bucky, pained and relieved, “Both of you, I promise.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his own and holds it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, his palm, saying softly, “I love you, Buck. I’m sorry you waited so long.”

“Hey stupid,” Bucky says shakily when your chin starts to quiver at the sight of them. He’s sniffling and swallowing his syllables, unable to stop himself from staring at Steve’s face in his hand, how Steve kisses the blue pulse in his wrist. “Ain’t you—too pretty to cry?”

The rocking of the car flattens out as Steve gently presses his lips to yours, letting the trail of salt bursting down your cheek into his mouth. He moves to the line of your jaw, promising,

It’s okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.

They kiss you and the world turns itself right.

They kiss you and then they kiss each other. Again and again and again.

#marvel #stucky #stucky x reader #pacific rim au #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #fanfiction #reader insert #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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argylemnwrites · 3 years

Text

Fight or Flight - Chapter 15: Hiccup

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4300

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: Almost four weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: And we’re back! Since it’s been ages... Previously on Fight or Flight - Hana had learned that Barthelemy and Godfrey were working with Auvernal from Kiara, but Liam didn’t seem motivated to take much action regarding that fact. Leo had gotten money and belongings to Riley, who shared an intimate moment with Drake when she returned to their hotel.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Liam let out a sigh as he changed the channel back to CBC. He needed to be actively watching, probably should be taking notes, in all honesty. This hour of programming consisted of discussion with three of the most connected political pundits in the country. It was the easiest and most reliable way to get a feel for the leanings of both the journalists and the common citizens, and it aired every weekday, so it was far more up to date than waiting for the biweekly polling.

The issue was that the panelists were revelling in the recent turn of events with such glee. It was understandable, he supposed. This was the most exciting political turn of events this country had seen in centuries. It put the mild speculation that he was Bridget’s biological father, a rumor had surfaced around the time of his announcement that Drake and Riley’s child would be heir and had briefly flared again at Bridget’s first public appearance when people had seen that she indeed looked like a child with some East Asian heritage, to shame. This wasn’t just baseless gossip and stirring the pot to increase ratings. This was true turmoil, plain and simple. There was a relative unknown carrying the power of the Crown, the current Queen-regent had been “kidnapped” and not seen in weeks, citizens were protesting daily, and this was all expected to last for months until the Conclave, where all the tension and drama would culminate in a vote among the five major noble houses to name a new monarch. The journalists and talking heads had a seemingly endless feast in front of them. All of it at his expense.

He took another sip of his scotch as he tried to focus on the screen ahead of him. If he could figure out how to gain a majority of the public’s support, then he could apply some pressure to Kiara and Landon prior to the Conclave vote. Not that he was naive enough to think that would be enough to assure that he would regain his title, but at least it would be one more piece of ammunition in his arsenal.

“The protests outside of the Capital aren’t going to be as easily quieted as the ones in Valtoria, Victor,” Francine Giorano stated, leaning forward and gesturing across the table to Victor Blussé. Blussé was the moderate on the panel, while Giorano was a staunch traditionalist. “They have had fears about the role the essentially-American Walkers played in our government for years, and look how right those fears turned out to be.”

“How is any of this the Walkers’ fault, Francine? This can all be traced to Barthelemy Beaumont!”

“The Conventus Nobilis was written into our foundational laws for a reason, Victor,” chimed in Willa Hyllop, the final member of the panel, added to the program in the past year to bring in a more modern, pro-democratic viewpoint.

“Surely you aren’t saying you are on the side of Beaumont, Willa! He represents an even less progressive faction than Liam Rys ever did.”

“I may not agree with everything he stands for, but I will always support measures that place some checks and accountability on our monarchy,” said Hyllop with a shrug. “Besides, the fact that Rys surrounded himself with yes-men and granted titles and appointments on the basis of friendship since he ascended the throne did little to convince me that he was the ‘progressive king’ he swore he was. He was more of the same, just without the aggressive rhetoric of his father.”

“And look how that turned out! Lest we forget, he stood by while Auvernal brought warships to our shore last year,” added Giorano.

Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Giorano and Hyllop were never on the same page about anything, and here they were, agreeing that he had been an ineffectual king. He tuned out Blussé’s response, knowing that some lukewarm rebuttal from him was going to do little to bolster his confidence. The fact was simple - his fall from grace was widespread. There were few left who saw him as worthy of the title of king. He had failed, completely and entirely.

“Liam?” Olivia’s voice cut over the television.

Liam opened his eyes to find her staring at him from the lounge’s doorway, a frown cutting across her face. He forced a smile as he gestured for her to join him. “Just taking a little break from hearing how incompetent I am.”

Olivia’s green eyes narrowed at his poor attempt at humor, but she strode over to him, joining him on the couch, undoubtedly taking in the blank notepad, the untouched stacks of documents, and the glass of liquor that sat on the table in front of him. “Well, that’s the perception we’re going to have to work to change.”

He tipped his head to rest along the back of the couch, sighing as he did so. “I know, Liv. It just seems so impossible at the moment.”

She didn’t say anything for several excruciating seconds. He rolled his head to the side, taking in her face, concerned eyes boring into him as she slid a hand around her neck, her blood-red nails digging into her skin. “We’ve got months still, Liam. Calling our goal impossible is premature.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, and I’m all ears if you have any recommendations for where to start.”

“Well, I got confirmation that Landon and Emmeline’s driver is loyal to us, so Ray is going to approach him at the Derby this weekend to see if he might be willing to earn a little extra cash by divulging some secrets. And their new head of kitchen has a brother with significant gambling debts, so that’s another lead worth pursuing.”

“Sounds good, Olivia.”

“Now, as far as next steps for you, I was hoping you might give reporters a few minutes for questions before the derby.”

Liam swallowed, his brain scrambling to come up with a reason, any reason, against her suggestion, when his phone vibrated on the table, the name “Bastien” flashing across the screen.

“Why is he calling you?” Olivia asked. All Liam could do was shrug as he leaned forward, grabbing his phone and swiping to accept the call.

“Bastien?”

“I don’t have long,” he started, not even taking the time for a greeting. “I don’t know if you are in touch with Drake, but if you are, you need to let him know that they need to get out of Athens.”

“What are you-”

“Rashad is negotiating with Greek authorities right now to allow the King’s Guard to be the ones to make the arrest. We are waiting on the tarmac for clearance to fly to Athens.”

“How-”

“He’s requesting Greek surveillance of their hotel until we get there. They need to leave now.”

“Bastien, what-”

“I have to go.” And then, the line was dead.

Liam sat there, numb and frozen, trying to process the slew of information that had just been dumped into his lap by his former head of security.

“What the hell is going on?” Olivia’s voice drew him out of his daze, prompting him to set down his phone on the couch, digging frantically through the stacks of papers.

“I need my burner.” He heard his voice as if he were an outsider observer. It was thin and shaky, frail and panicked. His hands shook as he felt around the table in front of him, knocking over a pile containing reproductions of the accounts of the last Conclave, dozens of papers spilling onto the floor.

“Liam, what the fuck did he tell you?”

“They know where they are. We have to warn them.” All his frustrations and pain related to Drake and Riley suddenly felt so petty, so ridiculous. The stakes were higher for them, always had been higher for them. They were about to get arrested over wanting to keep custody of their daughter. And while they left him to fend for himself, left Cordonia in a state of political upheaval, he knew that was a price that was wildly unfair.

“Who knows where they are? Rashad?”

“Yes,” said Liam, shoving more and more documents around the table. Where was his burner?

“How does he know?”

“I don’t know! Where the fuck is it?” Liam swiped his arm across the table, books and papers flying, the sound of glass breaking echoing through the room as his scotch tumbled to the ground.

A strong set of fingers with sharp red nails slid around his wrist, holding him still. He took a rough breath as he turned to face Olivia, who was eyeing him as she tugged her own burner out of her pocket, only breaking his gaze to glance down at the screen, tapping three times before holding it to her ear and looking back at Liam.

The few seconds of silence on her end were maddening, but then she was speaking, her voice curt and all business. “Drake, authorities are coming. You gotta go. Now.”

Liam tried to rein in his rapid breathing, tried to calm his heart rate down to something more human. “The King’s Guard is flying into Athens. They are leaving now. Rashad asked for Greek surveillance until-” but Olivia nodded at him, cutting him off.

“I don’t know how. But your hotel is about to be under Greek surveillance until the King’s Guard arrives, so you guys have to get moving. Good luck.” She hung up at that, letting out a massive sigh. “Shit,” she breathed out after a few seconds, her eyes bouncing back and forth before she slammed them shut, clearly planning and preparing.

Liam felt her fingers trembling around his wrist for just a second, but then she let go. She pushed herself off the couch with a flourish. “Find your burner. I’m gonna make some calls, but we need to destroy any evidence that we were in contact with them,” she said, nearly jogging towards the door.

“Olivia…”

She spun around and let out a little breath before walking back towards the couch. Her hand settled on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze as she gave him a nod. “We warned them as soon as we could, but we need to be the ones worried about the big picture right now. And things will only be worse for them if you and I are arrested, right?”

All he could do was nod. She was 100 percent correct.

“Okay, so find your burner. I’ll be back in a little bit, Liam.” And with that, she was off, a woman on a mission, leaving him sitting there, shaking on the couch, just trying to find his footing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hana shook hands with the final citizen, a woman in her late 40s who had been born and raised in Valtoria.

“Thank you so much, Your Grace,” she said, smiling as she returned the handshake.

“Of course. Just because our country is going through a period of transition doesn’t mean that I am going to ignore the needs of Valtoria’s citizens.”

The woman thanked her again before turning and exiting the formal dining room, the location Hana had chosen for the first Citizen Open Forum she’d scheduled. The large table provided ample seating, but the room was close enough to the main entrance to make it unlikely that anyone could wander into private areas of the estate without being caught by staff.

Olivia had been irritated when Hana had told her she was opening up the estate to the public. “You are giving Barthelemy’s people free access,” she told her. But Hana knew that she couldn’t just sidestep her duties as a duchess. Not only would that weaken people’s perception of Liam by association, but morally she just couldn’t do that. The country was in such turmoil because of a few members of the nobility trying to wrest power from some other nobles. For her citizens to be left neglected due to the whims of the highly privileged was ethically something she couldn’t allow to happen. So she’d hosted the forum, hearing directly from Valtoria’s residents what she should prioritize to improve their lives, but made sure to instruct her staff to notify her immediately if anyone was caught wandering too far from the dining room or bathroom. It was the best she felt she could do under the circumstances.

However, the last citizen had now vacated the estate, and Hana couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh. It had gone well, she thought. She had clear budgetary priorities to request at the upcoming meeting between the social season’s derby and the stop in Lythikos. Plus, one of the leaders of the protesters in front of the estate had come, and conversation with him had been productive. Obviously, she couldn’t outright tell him that she wished she could be right out there with them, carrying a sign that said “She’s their kid,” but he had given her a knowing smile when she told him she saw no reason to intervene when Cordonia citizens were just exercising a right to free speech. He had all but promised her that the protests would stay peaceful and would not target her for her assumption of the role of Duchess of Valtoria.

As she wandered into the kitchen to make herself some tea, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She turned on the tap to fill the kettle with one hand as she moved to answer the call with the other.

“Olivia, how are you?” she asked, watching the kettle fill.

“Do you not answer your phone anymore?”

Hana frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear and swiping the screen. “I don’t have any missed calls, Olivia.”

“Not this phone. I’ve called you no less than ten times.”

She turned off the tap and set the full kettle on the counter, a nagging thread of anxiety and fear worming its way into her heart with that statement. “What’s wrong?”

“Turn on the news.”

Hana spun around, finding the remote laying on the island and turning on the television mounted in the eat-in nook.

“-these exclusively obtained photos show a woman who appears to be the former duchess, Riley Walker, conversing with the former Crown Prince, Leo Rys, at a bar in Athens.”

The screen filled with a low-quality image, clearly zoomed in several times. The lighting was a sort of orange color, and the faces were grainy and fuzzy, but there was Riley, although her hair was clearly dyed a much lighter color. Leo’s face was only seen in profile, not as identifiable, but he was obviously talking to her. The screen changed to a new photo, Leo a bit more recognizable in this one, passing Riley something.

“Oh no,” said Hana, leaning against the counter.

“-clear evidence of collusion between the former Crown Prince and Riley Walker, who has been charged with treason and kidnapping of the monarch,” the anchor droned on, but Olivia’s response drowned out the quiet volume of the television.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement. So what was so pressing that you were ignoring your burner?”

“I had the forum with the citizens, and I thought if I was carrying two cell phones, that might-”

A massive groan from Olivia cut her off. “Whatever. Well, you need to destroy your burner. Now.”

“But what about Riley and-”

“I warned them. Hopefully they are able to get out of Athens, but nothing else we can do there. It’s time to protect ourselves.”

“Olivia, what-”

“I gotta go check on Liam. Destroy the phone, Hana. And don’t call me.”

“Why can’t I-”

“-Liam is definitely going to be questioned since Leo is now known to be involved. We can talk at the derby, but if they start monitoring our phone records, I don’t want to give them any reason to think we are scheming.”

Before Hana could as much as tell Olivia she understood, she heard the line click dead. Taking a few seconds for some calming breaths, she centered herself before she climbed the stairs to her quarters, a pit of dread cementing itself firmly in her stomach with each step. She reached her room and opened the top drawer of her dresser, pulling the burner phone out from underneath her nylons. Sure enough, she had dozens of missed notifications from Olivia, and a couple from Maxwell as well. Well, she knew what those were regarding. No need to deal with them at this point. Instead, she walked over to her dressing table and grabbed her manicure kit.

She wandered down the hallway towards the lounge, taking in the quiet and calm. It was odd; the estate probably had more people in it currently than it had for most of the time Riley and Drake had lived there. Hana didn’t feel compelled to aggressively minimize the staff presence like they had, far more used to having employees around from her upbringing. But staff were expected to be as discreet and silent as possible, to make themselves scarce, particularly in the private quarters.

No one had ever called Riley quiet. There was a certain vibrancy she brought to any room, and her voice and laughter were always echoing through the halls. And even though Drake wasn’t the most talkative, he certainly would quip, snark, and joke in the privacy of his own home. Of course, once Bridget was born, there was more noise and energy and life than ever before. Now, it was just Hana and the corgis. The estate felt hollow and soulless.

Once in the lounge, Hana shut the door behind her firmly. Anderson glanced up, but quickly draped his head back over Vera, all the dogs curled up on their giant cushion in the corner. Hana knew that the maids had cleaned the lounge yesterday, so she was unlikely to be found there. She sat down in one of the armchairs, and pried the cover off the back of her phone using her cuticle pusher. All the electronic components stared up at her, ready for her to do her worst. But before she could bring herself to kill the only connection she had to her best friend, she flipped the phone over and sent one last message to Riley.

I love you all. Stay safe. I’ll find a way to get in touch when I can.

Letting out a sigh, she turned the phone back over. She spent the next 15 minutes prying off motherboards and any chips and cards she could find, dropping them one by one into her container of acetone nail polish remover. Then, she removed the battery before placing the remaining elements into the fireplace. She would just have to store the battery under her floorboards until she could figure out how to safely dispose of it.

She started a fire, then curled up on the couch, tugging a quilt over her lap as she watched her only connection to the first person to show her unconditional love melt and warp, eventually turning to ash. Tears started trailing down her cheeks, dripping onto her blouse and the quilt, but she didn’t care. She was devastated - for herself, for her found family, and for her country. At some point, Anderson jumped up to join her, nestling in against her legs.

“I miss them so much,” she said, dropping a hand to the top of his head. “So, so much.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bridget was wailing in her crib, but Riley didn’t have time to calm her. She needed to pack. Now.

When Drake had called her, she knew something bad was happening. He’d left with their passports this afternoon to take them to a cousin of a friend of someone Drake had met at the restaurant, someone who was supposed to be able to help with fake documents and forgeries. The plan had been to change their names and their country of origin, allowing them to catch a flight to the States without getting stopped at the airport. The final destination once there hadn’t been decided. Drake had wanted to go to Texas, but Leona’s presence scared Riley. She had already sold out their safety for a quick payday once before.

But that debate was a moot point now. So was the uncertainty about this unknown forger on whom they were relying. Drake had called, frantic and alarmed, clearly running and somewhat out of breath as he spoke to her. Telling her Olivia had called to warn them they were about to be arrested. Telling her to pack. Telling her they needed to run.

So Bridget was unceremoniously dumped into her travel crib as Riley tried to shove everything into the duffel bags from Leo. She knew she should leave the impractical things, like the framed photos, but those would incriminate their friends. So they had to come with. Toiletries seemed essential, too. Some of the clothes were going to have to get left behind. Some of the toys as well. She had to be able to carry everything in one trip. She had to get to the car as quickly as possible.

She knew it had probably been less than five minutes since Drake had called, but it felt like she was moving too slowly, taking way too long. Drake hadn’t given her any sort of time frame. Who knew if Olivia had even given him one. But for all she knew, police were rounding the corner, waiting for her in the hallway, about to burst through the hotel door. So she shoved and crammed and squeezed everything she could into the duffel bags and the diaper bag. Those would go over her shoulders, the crib would collapse and go in one arm, Bridget in the other. That would have to be good enough.

Once she was sure that the bags were as full as they could be, she pulled Bridget out, placing her on the floor as she scrambled to collapse the crib, fumbling with the locking mechanism for just a few seconds before it folded in on itself, allowing her to tuck it into her elbow. By some mad miracle, Bridget was hanging close by, not trying to crawl away to explore and cause trouble. Maybe she was frightened by the way Riley was acting. Regardless, it was a blessing.

Knowing she was as ready as she was going to be, she loaded everything up and grabbed Bridget, pausing just briefly to juggle their possessions as she opened the door. She didn’t bother closing it behind her, just moved as quickly as she could with her load down the hallway, down the stairs, through the lobby, and around the corner to the street where their car was parked. No one tried to stop her or talk to her, so she took the time to toss everything on the ground and properly latch Bridget into her car seat. Then, she threw everything in the hatchback before climbing into the passenger’s seat and locking the doors behind her. Bridget continued to cry, but there was little Riley could do to comfort her at this point. All that was left to do was wait for Drake.

Drake had told her to meet him in the car, but she didn’t like feeling exposed, sitting where anyone could see her during broad daylight. Add to that the fact that she was in the passenger seat, so she wouldn’t even be able to make a quick getaway if need be. Her piss-poor driving skills were just one more area where she was making their life harder, but there was no way to fix that right now. All she could do was hang tight. She was contemplating what in the car she could use as a weapon if it came down to it when her phone buzzed. She swiped to answer instantly when she saw it was Drake’s number.

“Drake, where are you?”

“Around the corner from the hotel. You in the car?”

“Yeah. How did-” but before she could get her question out, she saw Drake through the driver’s side window. She let out a little yelp of surprise before reaching over and unlocking the door, handing him the keys as soon as he sat down.

He didn’t even bother to say anything, just started the car and eased off the clutch as he shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road. Bridget quieted soon after they got moving, but Riley didn’t feel any better as the yelling and screaming subsided. She just stared at Drake, one hand braced on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, his neck and shoulders so tense and coiled, he looked ready to burst.

“Where are we going?” she finally chanced asking.

Drake shook his head, never taking his eyes off the road. “I don’t know. Out of Athens.”

“Then why are we making so many turns?”

“Don’t know if we were being watched or followed. Gotta lose anyone who might be tailing us.” His voice was clipped and frayed. He sounded about five seconds away from losing it completely. Riley wanted to hold his hand, to comfort him in some way. But she didn’t want to distract him, both from driving and from the tiny amount of control he had over his emotional response to everything that was unfolding. After all, they weren’t safe yet. So she just nodded and grabbed her phone off her lap.

“I’ll pull up some maps, okay?”

He nodded and let out a rough breath at that. “Thanks, Walker,” he said before flipping on the radio. “Can you try and find us a news station?”

“Drake, I won’t-”

“I’ll translate.”

And so they were off, unsure where or how far they needed to go to be safe. All they could do at this point was keep moving forward.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @iplaydrake

FoF: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby

#drake walker #drake x mc #trh au fanfic #trh au #trh fanfic #king liam #olivia nevrakis #hana lee #choices fanfiction

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

Headcanon - when another man catches your eye

This work, 当你沉迷小哥哥, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it!

[ VICTOR ]

LFG is full of talented individuals and a sizeable number of handsome men. But you, as an obedient wife with an unwavering love for Victor, will definitely not spare a glance at other men...?

“Goldman. In one minute, I want you to give me all the information you have on that man!”

When you arrived at LFG to give Victor a report, you were notified that he was currently in a meeting. As such, you’re currently standing outside the office, having a chat with Goldman. When the door finally opened, you never expected to see an incredibly handsome man!

Goldman looks at you from the side, objecting. “Just forget it. If I give you his information, I might lose my bonus for next year.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, infuriated. “You’ve really disappointed me! Have you forgotten how I usually rescue you? Passionate members of the working-class should band together and defeat this capitalist fat lion!”

“Defeat who?”

Immersed in your dramatic world, you fail to realise that the voice sounds slightly off. “Victor, of course!”

Goldman’s face has gone pale.

“...”

Finally reacting, you hold onto his arm, behaving coquettishly. “Victor, when did you come out?” You hope he didn’t hear your brave and visionary words from earlier.

Victor has his arms crossed as he stands at the doorway. Expressionless, he shatters your hopes. “Ever since you wanted the information.”

“...”

You wonder if it’s too late to retreat.

“Submit a thousand word reflection tonight.” He leads your dazed self into the office.

Seeing the two of you enter, Goldman feels as though he’s been relieved from a burden.

“Goldman, your monthly bonus has been cut by half from idling around during working hours.”

Goldman: Ack.

[ GAVIN ]

To select guests for an upcoming program, you and the planning team in the company have been collecting information on up-and-rising celebrities, which have been printed onto booklets for your perusal.

While having a video call with Kiki, you flip through the pages, the topic gradually digressing to a discussion on who the most handsome person in the booklet is.

“I think he’s more handsome. I watched a drama he was featured in. The moment he removed his clothes, those muscles...”

The moment Gavin returns, he sees his girl sitting cross-legged on the floor, engaged in a discussion over the phone. Documents are messily sprawled on the coffee table. Upon a closer look, he realises that they are pages of information, each one with a picture of a man attached.

Hearing the door open, you turn your head. “Gavin, you’re back~”

He walks over, hugging you from behind. His chin rests on the top of your head, giving it a gentle nuzzle. “Mm. What are up to?”

You point at the materials on the table. “Selecting guests.”

At this inopportune time, a voice drifts from the phone. “Officer Gavin, I wish to report that Boss has been looking at the abdominal muscles of other men!”

“Kiki, you betrayed me!” You exclaim accusatorially, gritting your teeth. She knows fully well how prone to jealousy your Officer Gavin is.

As expected, Gavin knits his brows. Lifting the bottom of his shirt, he takes your hand and plants it onto his torso. His tone sounds as though he has been treated unfairly. “I have abs too. Touch mine, and don’t look at others.”

Kiki: Sorry for interrupting. Remember to hang up before doing other deeds :)

[ LUCIEN ]

This new drama is far too addictive. The men in it all suit your tastes. As such, you would sit before the television every Friday evening, unmoving.

He initially thought it was just a temporal spark of interest. That is, until you changed the background of your phone to those men. After sending him a link to a voting campaign, Professor Lucien finally realised the severity of this issue.

On Friday, you sit on the sofa as usual, turning the television on.

Seeing this, Lucien quietly washes the cherries from the fridge and places them in front of you. Occasionally, he would shift the chess pieces on the coffee table, or walk in front of the television cabinet to rifle through the CDs. He even waters the plants on top of the stereo.

Your eyes are sparkling as you watch the television, not noticing Lucien’s actions. It’s only when the number of times he blocks the screen increases that he catches your attention. “Lucien, what are you doing?”

He sets down the watering can in his hand, lowering his eyes. “My Little Butterfly is only focused on watching the television, so I have no choice but to engage in my own pastimes.” After saying this, he even injects a sigh.

You snort with laughter. “Is Professor Lucien jealous, and blaming me for not giving him attention?”

“Yes.” His response is quick and firm, as though you’ve truly caused him to suffer.

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, you outstretch your arms. “In that case, would this man like an exclusive hug?”

[ KIRO ]

People on-site can sense that Kiro is a little different from his usual self. Usually, Kiro would be amiable, grinning widely as he interacts with others. Although he still treats people the same way, his behaviour towards the second male lead has been peculiar.

“Kiro, is something up with you today? Did someone make you angry?” Mummy Savin is the first person to notice that Kiro is slightly off, patting his shoulder in concern.

“Savin, you have no idea how MC went overboard last night! She said the second male lead was very handsome, and questioned why the ending was so tragic. And that if she were the female lead, she definitely wouldn’t go for the main male lead, but would prefer the second lead!” Little Kiro makes a complaint about your actions to Savin.

“...” Not knowing what to say, Savin casts him a glance before whipping out his phone to give you a call. “Come over to the film site.Your Kiro is throwing a tantrum again.”

You hang up with a frown. Even though Savin didn’t mention the reason for it, you can guess what exactly is going on. Bringing along the pork floss rolls you just bought, and after ordering two cups of 50% sugar milk tea, you rush over to the film site.

“Kiro~” You greet him once you enter the venue. With a ‘hmph’, he twists his head to the side. Clearly, he doesn’t want to bother with you right now.

You smile in resignation, pretending to be filled with regret. “Since Kiro is ignoring me, I have no choice but to give these small cakes and milk tea to Savin. Sigh, what a shame.”

Hearing that there are snacks, Kiro immediately lunges over. “No way, no way. Miss Chips bought them for me, so they can’t be given to Savin!”

Stuffing himself with the cake, you give his puffy cheeks a poke. “You aren’t angry anymore?”

Kiro takes a sip of the milk tea, his response muffled. “On account of the these snacks, I’ll make up with you for two hours. We’ll talk about the rest at home!”

[ SHAW ]

“What are you watching?” Shaw rushes into the kitchen once he reaches home. Taking out your matcha ice-cream from the fridge, he digs a big scoop, eating it in front of you.

You’ve already gotten used to how thick-skinned this person can be. Casting a glance at the mustard bottle in the bin, you kick the bin further away quietly, praying that he’d quickly reach the bottom of the tub.

“All of them resemble weak chickens. None of them know how to fight.” Shaw comments, biting the spoon.

???

Based on such logic, isn’t he saying that someone who resembles King Kong would immediately be good in fighting?

“Stinky Brother. Take a good look - the men are so handsome. And then look at yourself. Can you even compare with them?”

Shaw’s face darkens. He sets the ice-cream down, pressing the pause button of the remote control. He walks in front of the television, pointing at the large face on the screen, before pointing to himself. “Hey! Take a proper look. How is this pretty boy more handsome than I am? Need me to get you a pair of glasses to fix your vision?!”

You click your tongue. “They can dance. Can you?”

“I can.”

“They have abs!”

“I do too.”

“They can even act!”

“If I didn’t know how to act, how would I have won you over?”

“...” He’s truly unbeatable at this.

Shaw cages you between himself and the sofa, his palms sinking into the fabric. “Do you pick him or me?”

Instead of saying anything, you give him a kiss. After all, this is the best answer.

In the end, he didn’t eat the mustard.

–

More translated and original works: here

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the author

#mlqc #cheri shortcake

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

Text

Fic: Breaking Point

Relationships: Caline Bustier & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Characters: Caline Bustier, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Alya Césaire, Max Kanté, Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Juleka Couffaine, Lila Rossi, Tikki

Tags: caline bustier salt, Reveal, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste Knows, Protective Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Caline Bustier Knows, ml salt, Harassment, Lila Rossi Lies, Bad Classroom Environments, Gaslighting, enablers, Bullying ,Salt, Identity Reveal, Spitefic, Swearing, Adrien Sugar

Summary: '“For instance, being a superhero is not a viable career path,” was what made her tune in, her attention fully pulled to Mme. Bustier, who seemed to be looking right at her.'

Note: This was written based on a prompt by @norakwami.

AO3 link

------

Marinette wasn’t really paying attention to Mme. Bustier’s lecture. To be fair, it was about career options and how to achieve them, something she had researched so completely she already had a list of universities she intended to apply to, along with possible companies to intern, all carefully tabbed in a binder at home that was also slowly filling with application and portfolio ideas.

Given that she was only fourteen and still had four more years before she reached the point of applying, she was ahead of the game. Perhaps she could be considering going to another lycée instead of the feeder for Collège Françoise Dupont, perhaps somewhere private that had a focus on fashion. But she didn’t want to put pressure on her parents, who would have to pay the tuition for such an institution, when she was already winning awards and making a name for herself through designing for Jagged Stone and the up-and-coming Kitty Section, among others.

“For instance, being a superhero is not a viable career path,” was what made her tune in, her attention fully pulled to Mme. Bustier, who seemed to be looking right at her.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Marinette felt frozen by that stare, pinned like a ladybug by an entomologist. How could she know? Did other people notice her stare?

“Ladybug is almost certainly harming her civilian future through these superhero antics, which prevent her from fulfilling all her obligations.”

Alya snorted. “That’s not Ladybug’s fault—it’s Hawkmoth’s. Ladybug protects the city. And maybe Paris should pay her for her services!”

“Ladybug is a teenager who should be concentrating on school,” Mme. Bustier declared, still staring holes into Marinette.

“Ladybug has never released her age,” Adrien murmured, his voice sounding strained. “So that’s conjecture, Mme. Bustier. How does this have to do with our future careers?”

To her horror, he turned and followed her gaze to Marinette.

She felt as though she might hyperventilate, panic rising in her gut. If she was compromised, that put her family and friends at risk, put the Miracle Box at risk, played right into Hawkmoth’s hands. She’d never been good at a poker face, and she wasn’t sure whether she was managing now.

Adrien’s eyes widened, and she knew she’d failed, at least with him. Kwami, she hoped she could trust him.

“I’m glad you asked, Adrien. For instance, Marinette, would you please share your current preparation for your future career.”

All eyes were on her, and she could feel the thoughts swirling around them as she was called out. She swallowed, trying to push it all down.

“I-I… I have a binder. At home. F-fifteen different universities with fashion p-programs. In order of where I want to go most. Also c-companies that offer internships.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves—it helped a bit. “I’ve started my portfolio, including the b-bowler hat that won M. Agreste’s contest, and my work for Jagged Stone and Kitty Section, and p-pictures of clothing I’ve designed and made.”

She could hear murmurs around her, and Alya gave a low whistle beside her.

“Girl, no wonder you don’t sleep. You’re on top of this!”

Mme. Bustier’s mouth became a thin line, her lips pressed together as though she was irritated.

Marinette wished keenly that Master Fu was still around, could handle this situation. She’d come to realize Mme. Bustier was a terrible teacher, enabling bullying and shaming victims as though they were at fault for their treatment. But this was a whole new level of awful.

“Still, the way you run off during Akuma attacks interrupts your daily life and prevents you from—”

“We all run away during Akuma attacks! They disrupt all our daily lives.”

Adrien stood, his back rigid from tension.

“Marinette has been personally targeted multiple times during Akuma attacks. So have I! A lot of this has been documented on the LadyBlog. It’s traumatizing—and we keep our memories of that because we’re not the Akuma. I run and hide, personally. Why would you shame Marinette for that?”

The class fell silent, and glancing around Marinette could see the tension in their faces, their own memories of being chased by Akuma.

Adrien had moved this away from the idea of Marinette being Ladybug to her being shamed for her reaction to Akumas. He was protecting her. And she loved him all the more for it.

“There was Evillustrator,” Marinette murmured, jumping on the red herring.

She glanced at Nathanaël apologetically. He offered a sad smile.

“I had to help Chat Noir with that. It was scary. André Glacier became Glaciator and came looking for me, and Chat Noir saved me from getting frozen. And Gamer was looking for me. Chat Noir saved me again.”

She could see Max wince across the aisle.

“Reflekta turned me into her clone because she was mad at me. And it was my fault.”

Marinette turned and mouthed ‘sorry’ to Juleka.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Juleka whispered, then cringed as she realized her voice had carried far enough for everyone to hear.

She smiled, then turned back to the front.

“My own grandmother tried to turn me into coal when she was Akumatized because she was upset I wasn’t like eight years old anymore—Chat Noir saved me again there, too. And then my dad was Akumatized and Chat Noir and Ladybug had to save me again.”

Marinette hadn’t been able to transform, needing to be saved as a civilian before she could get back as Ladybug. Too many of them had been so public she’d had to trust Chat Noir would be able to hold his own until she got there—and she did, but she was afraid sometime that would be fatal.

“And I saw footage when Adrien was dropped from a building and then when Volpina pretended to drop him from the Eiffel Tower. That’s terrifying!”

She didn’t turn around to look at Lila. Instead she looked at Adrien, who was still standing, alternating between glaring at Mme. Bustier and glancing back at her with concern in his eyes.

“And then there’s mind control Akumas, like with Miracle Queen. I’m scared of Akumas, Mme. Bustier. Even when they’re across the city, they won’t always stay there, and I want to hide. And I refuse to be ashamed of that!”

It wasn’t a lie, either. Civilian her absolutely wanted to hide—and did, just behind a mask.

She turned her attention to the teacher, keeping her back straight, remembering she had Adrien on her side, even if she wished he didn’t know—damn Bustier for that. Marinette steeled herself.

“I don’t understand why you’ve singled me out to try to imply I alone am somehow failing to perform because of Akumas, but you always seem to do this. I’m at fault for being bullied. I need to be an example and not react when my belongings are destroyed and my locker is broken into. Or when someone gets me expelled by somehow putting test answers in my bag and a new Gabriel-brand necklace—supposedly an heirloom—in my locker that’s been broken into before. I’ve spent the last year feeling I’m not allowed to have emotions. But this is the last straw.”

Marinette stood, picking up her bag. When she glanced down Tikki was giving her the Kwami version of a thumbs up.

“Frankly, Mme. Bustier, you have been toxic for my mental health for quite some time. Time I’ve spent researching to discover what you’re doing isn’t appropriate for the classroom; it’s abusive and reportable. If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to the M. Damocles, as well as my parents. And perhaps the Board of Governors, as I am no longer willing to tolerate this treatment and its continued harm to my education.”

With that, she marched down the stairs, past an open-mouthed Bustier, and out of the classroom, holding her head high.

Once in the open hallway, clear of the windows, she deflated.

“Well, fuck,” she whispered. “I guess I get to do research on a new collège, too.”

She supposed, at least, she’d been successful at diverting Bustier from the Ladybug accusations; the last thing she needed was for Ladybug-hater Lila to know and come after her.

“You and me both.”

Adrien’s voice behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin. She was relieved to see no one else had followed him. She could hear the hullaballoo of the classroom behind her, all control having been lost.

He quirked a grin. “We’re in it together, Bugaboo. As always.”

She stared, feeling like there was a hamster lolling on the wheel of her thoughts instead of running to turn it.

Adrien took her arm. “Come on. I’ll support you. Let’s go talk to M. Damocles.”

“Ch-Chat?” Marinette managed in a hiss as her brain finally caught up.

He gently guided her forward. “My Lady.”

She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh, cry, scream, or some combination of the three. But as they approached M. Damocles’ office, Marinette pushed the issue aside.

After all, she had work to do, and Ladybug didn’t leave work unfinished.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #bustier salt #alya cesaire #max kante #juleka couffaine #nathaniel kurtzberg #caline bustier #lila rossi #lila 'the liar' rossi #ml salt #adrien sugar #identity reveal #my fanfiction #miraculous salt

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massivedrickhead · 4 years

Note

you’ve done lots of prompts recently with Chloe taking care of Beca could you do one the other way around? Thank you ❤️

Read on AO3

Chloe was tired. Frustrated. Burned out.

She felt like the Bellas and classes for college were taking everything from her, and she was running on empty.

She was feeling almost claustrophobic in the Bellas house, so tried to spend as much time away as she could without raising questions.

The Bellas trusted her to lead them to victory at the Worlds in a few months, and she couldn’t let them down.

They were relying on her, she couldn’t let them know she was cracking.

That she was breaking.

She should have known there was one person who she couldn’t hide this from.

It was late one night when she was sat staring at an almost empty word document on her laptop, her eyes burning with exhaustion, her head throbbing, when she heard a quiet knock at her bedroom door.

“Yeah?” She said, her voice a little rough. She coughed to clear her throat, and turned to see Beca standing in her doorway. “What’s up?”

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah?” Chloe said, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s 2 am,” Beca said. “Not exactly typical Chloe Beale hours.”

Chloe looked at her watch. She hadn’t realised it had gotten so late. “I, uh, must have lost track of time. I’m trying to write this paper but,” she cleared her throat again, “I’m having some trouble.”

Beca stepped further into the room and looked over Chloe’s shoulder at the screen.

“When is it due?” Beca asked.

“Tomorrow,” Chloe said. “Or… today I guess.”

Beca nodded. “Okay,” she said. “What do you need?”

“What do I need?”

“You want water and some aspirin I’m guessing,” Beca said. “Do you want coffee? Maybe a snack?”

“Uh…”

“I’ll be right back,” Beca said, leaving Chloe sitting, her mouth half open mouthed in confusion.

Beca was back in five minutes holding two mugs of coffee, a bottle of water tucked under her arm and a bag of chocolate coated pretzels held between her teeth.

Chloe’s favourite.

Beca placed the mugs on Chloe’s desk, followed by the bottle of water and the pretzels, before digging in her pocket for the strip of aspirin pills.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, worried she was about to cry. She took two aspirin and gulped down half the bottle of water. “How did you know I had a headache?”

Beca shrugged. “You always get headaches when you concentrate too hard.” She sat on Chloe’s bed, her back against the headboard. “Come take a break.”

“Bec I have like eight hours to finish this,” Chloe said.

“Come take a break. You’re not gonna get any further with it if you just keep staring at the screen like that.” Beca tapped the spot on the bed beside her, and Chloe gave in and joined her.

She was never very good at saying no to Beca.

“Thank you for this,” Chloe said, taking a sip of the coffee, smiling because Beca knew how she took it.

“No problem,” Beca said. “How come you left your paper so last minute?”

“I dunno,” Chloe said, taking another sip. “I kinda forgot about it. I kept putting it off.”

“Do you think you can get it done tonight?”

“I have to,” Chloe said. “As long as I don’t fall asleep at the keyboard, I should be okay.”

Beca laughed. “I’ll just throw a pretzel at you every time you nod off.”

“Are you going to stay here all night?” Chloe said, laughing too.

“Why else do you think I made myself a coffee?”

Chloe turned to look at her, and realised she wasn’t joking. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Beca said.

Chloe couldn’t help but smile. She leaned in and kissed Beca on the cheek, before moving back to sit at her desk.

“You’re not just gonna sit and watch me, are you? I’ll get performance anxiety,” Chloe said.

“No,” Beca replied, laughing. “I’m gonna go grab my laptop, I’ll be right back.”

When Beca returned, laptop in hand, Chloe was typing quickly. Her notes were spread over the rest of her desk, and she kept pausing to look at them. Her finger would trace down the page until she found a quote she was looking for, and then she’d carrying on typing.

They didn’t speak for a while. Chloe seemed to be on a roll but Beca was facing her own block.

It was the reason she’d even been up at 2 am in the first place.

A music producer wanted to hear what she had to offer, and Beca had been terrified to discover that she had absolutely nothing original to say.

To her, making mixes was as easy as breathing. She heard music in a way that not many other people did. She could deconstruct and rebuild songs with ease. She could combine them and remake them without any doubt or fear.

But to create something new? To make something out of nothing? That, she was discovering, she couldn’t do. If making mixes was like breathing, this was like breathing underwater.

She just couldn’t do it.

“I’m gonna need a vacation after this,” Chloe mumbled after a while.

Beca laughed, still staring at the empty track on her laptop.

“What are you working on?” Chloe asked.

“Nothing,” Beca replied, looking up. “How are you getting on?”

“Maybe halfway?” Chloe said.

“That’s great,” Beca said, smiling. “Do you need another coffee?”

“No, I’m good thanks Becs,” Chloe said. “Let me hear what you’re working on?”

“It’s nothing,” Beca said. “Having a bit of a creative block so there’s nothing to hear. Anyway, don’t let me distract you, you were on a roll before.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, frowning slightly. She turned back to her laptop and carried on typing.

Beca sank back against the headboard, and closed out the music program.

“Where would you go?” She asked after another period of silence, the only sounds coming from Chloe’s keyboard.

“Huh?” Chloe asked, rubbing her eyes, clearly exhausted.

“If you went on vacation, where would you go?”

“I dunno,” Chloe said. She thought for a minute. “I guess… I kinda miss the sea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “The sea makes me feel… calm. When I was a teenager and I’d have a bad day, I’d just go for a walk on the beach and it always made me feel better.”

“Okay,” Beca said.

“Shame there’s no beach near here, huh?” Chloe asked before she carried on typing.

“Yeah,” Beca said, already pulling Google maps up on her laptop.

Chloe finished her paper at 5:30, the sound of her closing her laptop lid in triumph waking Beca from her nap.

“You did it?” Beca asked, rubbing her eyes.

“I did it,” Chloe said, smiling. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“No problem,” Beca said, laughing slightly as she realised she’d spent the last hour asleep.

Chloe climbed into bed beside her, relieved she now had one less thing to worry about.

“Do you want me to go?” Beca asked.

“No,” Chloe said. “Do you want to go?”

“Not really,” Beca replied. “Do you want me to set an alarm?”

“I don’t have any classes tomorrow,” Chloe said.

“Me neither.”

As Chloe got comfortable, Beca began typing something into her laptop.

“What are you doing?”

Beca hit enter, and the soft sounds of the ocean started playing through the speakers.

“I can do some seagull impressions too if you want?”

Chloe laughed, and pulled Beca close to her, her arms wrapping around Beca’s waist.

“Dork,” she said, smiling.

“Rude,” Beca replied, also smiling.

“Do you wanna talk about the creative block thing?” Chloe asked, trying not to let her eyes close.

“Not right now,” Beca said. “It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

“I can’t help but worry,” Chloe said, cuddling Beca tighter.

“I know,” Beca replied. “But you worry too much. You worry about everyone. Everything. You’re not allowed to worry about this too.”

“Bossy.”

Beca laughed, and felt Chloe’s breath tickle her neck as she laughed too.

“Go to sleep weirdo.”

——

A few days later, Beca knocked on Chloe’s bedroom door again.

“Come in.”

Beca entered, and saw Chloe sitting on her bed, still in her work-out gear, unlacing her running shoes.

Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was in a messy ponytail, strands sticking to her face.

Beca forgot for a moment why she had entered the room.

Post-work-out Chloe always distracted her.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Beca asked.

“It’s Saturday, we have an all day rehearsal,” Chloe said, confused at how Beca could have forgotten this.

Beca bit her lip, trying not to grin too hard. “We had an all day rehearsal. Can you be up and ready for like 7 am tomorrow? And make sure you pack like warmish clothes. Enough for one day and night.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wanna vacation or not?”

——

Beca was half asleep at the kitchen table when Chloe got downstairs at 6:45 the next morning.

“Ready?” Beca asked with a yawn.

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

Beca smiled but shook her head.

“Come on,” Beca said, standing up. “Your chariot awaits.”

“My chariot?”

“My dad’s Toyota, same thing.”

——

They drove for almost five hours before Chloe spotted the sea, and the squeal of delight was like music to Beca’s very tired ears.

It was another hour before they reached their Airbnb for the night, and then, hand-in-hand, they walked to the beach.

It was mostly deserted and the beach itself seemed to be more pebbles and stones than the sand Chloe had grown up with, but she didn’t care.

She could feel the sea air making its way through her. Shaking out all the creases and blowing away all the cobwebs.

She felt like she could finally breathe for the first time in months. She didn't feel the crushing responsibility of school and the Bellas anymore.

The smell of the sea was like home, and the sound of it was more comforting than she could explain.

It wasn’t a rough sea, but the soft sound of the water being pulled back across the rocks, before rushing forward up and onto the beach seemed to empty her head of every negative thought.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, softly, squeezing Beca’s hand. “I needed this.”

“You know you can tell me when you’re struggling, right? I know you feel like you need to keep it together for the rest of the Bellas… Like you need to be strong and calm all the time, but you don’t. At least not with me. We’re co-captains, remember? Partners. We’re supposed to share the load, and I feel like you’ve been carrying mine this year.”

“I just… I don’t want to fail. I don’t want to let everyone down. If we don’t win… If the Bellas have to disband after this year… They’re my home, Beca. My family. I can’t lose that.”

“You won’t lose it,” Beca said. “No matter what happens, we’re still family. Nothing will change that.”

“Even if we lose? Even if this legacy that’s existed for years and years has to stop? Because of me?”

“Not because of you. This isn’t all on you,” Beca said, brushing away one of Chloe’s tears. “Chloe, we’re all still in this because we’re a family, you know that right? We’re not here to win trophies and titles, we’re here because we like being together. We like singing and hanging out and living together.”

Chloe laughed softly and another tear fell. “The girls are all working so hard and-”

“-for you,” Beca said. “They’re working hard because they can see how much it means to you. They don’t care about winning, not really, not deep down. They just don’t want to let you down. They love you. I… I love you, Chloe.”

Chloe swallowed and more tears fell. She turned to look back out to the sea, waiting for the sounds to calm her again, but her heart was pounding too hard for that to happen.

Beca didn’t know whether she should be freaking out or not, but Chloe’s hand was still in hers, so that hard to be a good sign. It grounded her enough to keep on talking.

“Whatever happens at the Worlds, it won’t change anything. We’ll still always be the Bellas. We’ll still be Beca and Chloe. I’ll still be in love with you,” Beca said. “And you don’t need to say that back, if you don’t feel the same. But I wanted you to know. To me, you’ll never be a failure, or a disappointment.”

There was a silence between them that, to Beca at least, felt like it lasted a lifetime.

She didn’t understand how Chloe didn’t know how much they all loved her.

How much she loved her.

The silence stretched on, punctuated by the sounds of seagulls and waves crashing.

Beca might have found it relaxing, if her stomach wasn’t busy tying itself in knots.

She was sure of one thing though, and that was that she didn’t regret what she’d said.

She knew she’d never regret telling Chloe that she loves her.

“Beca,” Chloe’s voice broke slightly, and she coughed to clear it. “Beca, I never thought… I’d almost given up…”

“On what?”

“On us. On us being more than friends. And don’t get me wrong, Beca. I love being friends with you. Your friendship is everything to me. But… But I always wanted… I always hoped we would have more.”

“Me too,” Beca said. “It’s not too late for that, right?”

“No,” Chloe said, smiling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Never.”

“Cool,” Beca said, grinning. “Can I kiss you?”

Chloe nodded, and closed her eyes at the feeling of Beca’s hands cupping her face.

When their lips met, Chloe thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest.

“No more shouldering this alone, okay?” Beca said, their eyes closed, foreheads touching.

“Okay,” Chloe said.

“We’re a team.”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, not knowing if she wanted to laugh or cry. “God, I love you. I love you so much, Beca.”

“I love you too.”

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thadelightfulone · 3 years

Text

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 13

A/N: Yes, this is another update since I fell behind. ENJOY!!! Back to our regularly scheduled program later this evening.

December 6th

DeeDee swore off going out with her friends for a while. Phyllis was getting on her nerves and Beverly could only do so much. DeeDee didn’t even understand the hostility that was coming from her best friend. And now was not the time for her to be stressed out by shit she couldn’t control, like her best friend’s actions and reactions. So, it was time for a break and to focus on more important things, like her defense presentation.

She had chosen her PowerPoint background weeks ago. She drafted her presentation outline weeks ago. But she hadn’t yet put any of it together, even with all the time she spent in the library. Then again, the last time she was studying there, she found Erik’s note.

“Oh crap,” DeeDee grabbed her phone off the charger and saw multiple messages from him.

Prince Erik: Good morning Miss DeeDee

Prince Erik: I hope you have a good day and get some rest. You definitely need it. 😘

Prince Erik: Good night DeeDee

Prince Erik: Enjoy your day Miss DeeDee

Including a voice message, “Damn.”

VM: Sleeping Beauty

Do you know that you talk in your sleep? I learned quite a bit from you when you fell asleep mid-sentence last night.

Don’t worry, I won’t hold any of it against you...unless that is what you really want. Then what the lady wants, the lady gets.

I won’t tell you how long I stayed on the phone after you knocked out, but I’m sure that your phone probably died after I ended the call.

Whenever you get up, hit me up. I have some questions for you, pretty lady.

Later

After that eventful night out with Beverly and Phyllis, all she remembered was drunk dialing him, him answering the phone and then nothing else until she woke up late the next afternoon with a dead phone. She put it on the charger, but never checked any of her alerts and went right back to sleep until this morning.

DeeDee picked up her phone and went to her recording app. She didn’t want to flood his phone responding to his texts. And since he usually worked on weekends, she decided to send him a voice message instead.

She walked over to her patio door, opened the curtains and sat down at her desk. DeeDee opened up her laptop and pulled up all the documents she would need. It was time to get to work. Less than 2 weeks until D-Day.

---

Erik looked down at his phone for the umpteenth time that day and then walked the floor. It was weird, he hadn’t heard anything from DeeDee since he hung up on her Friday night. She was gone gone and yet, she still tried to talk to him. A sleepy drunk. He thought it was cute but he knew that hangover was gonna be a killer.

He hoped that she was ok. He still sent his usual text messages but he also sent a voice one because she said somethings that had him thinking. And it is said that ‘a drunk mouth speaks a sober mind.’ If that holds true, DeeDee laid herself bare in the most beautiful way, and yet she may not remember any of it. What a shame.

Erik moved to stand by the window of his office, while DeeDee’s words took up residence in his mind. He stopped focusing on his weekly reports an hour ago. His impression of DeeDee and the reality that each day his feelings about her being the one for him became stronger and stronger, cradled her very words to him from the night before.

A loud buzzing sound against his wooden desk, halted his wayward thoughts. He walked over and picked it up. It was a voice message from DeeDee. He unlocked his phone and opened it.

VM: Greetings From Louisiana

Good morning Erik,

I can’t believe you let me go to sleep on you the other night and didn’t say anything. Anyways, since I have no recollection of what I said, take it with a grain of salt. Please and thank you.

Sorry for not responding to anything yesterday. I just slept the day away in recovery. Nothing stronger than wine for me for a while.

I do hope you are free to talk tonight. I may not have much time over the next week or so as I prepare my final presentation for my dissertation. But I really enjoy talking to you and don’t want to miss out.

I’m probably rambling again. So, yeah. Just let me know if you have time and we can go from there.

Byeeee

Her voice always brought a smile to his face. He logged off his computer, grabbed his briefcase and locked up his office. He would have stayed there if she called, but since she didn’t, it gave him the perfect out. He could work from home and still talk to her until she needed to go.

---

DeeDee had just finished putting her talking points into her presentation file, when her cell phone rang. Erik. He must have gotten her message. She saved the file and opened the application.

“Hi Mr. Erik.”

“Hello Miss DeeDee.”

“I missed hearing that.” She said shyly.

“Oh, you did? Could have fooled me.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? I’m not the one who said hi, some other stuff and then passed the hell out on the phone.” He shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “I mean, I know I can put you to sleep, but that is not how I would do it.”

“You know what?” She started to laugh.

“What?”

“I can’t stand you.”

“Uh huh.” His voice was calm. “Lie again Miss DeeDee.”

“I’m not. I mean it.” DeeDee stomped her foot on the floor.

Erik laughed, “If you say so. But I think you feel differently about me.”

“Sir, remember I do not know what I said. I don’t remember anything after calling you.”

“And slurring my name?”

DeeDee groans, “So, that did happen?”

“Heeeeeeey Erik,” he mimicked her tone.

“Oh my god.”

“It was cute though. It lets me know you were thinking of me even when you were completely out of it.”

“I promised to call you when I got home.”

He paused, “You know what, you did honor my request to hear from you to let me know that you made it home safely.”

“Exactly.”

“So, it seemed like you had a very fun evening.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t say that.” DeeDee sighed, “One of my best friends who seemed excited for me to look for you, is now acting really funny towards me and I don’t understand it.”

“Funny how?”

“Well, can I share something with you?”

“DeeDee, you know you don’t have to ask that. If you want to tell me anything, I will listen.”

“Thanks E.” She curled her legs under her in the desk chair. “Remember how I said that I knew my career would take me away? You know traveling and experiencing the world and such.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I haven’t told anyone that I have applied for tenure-track positions far away from Louisiana.” She exhaled deeply. “I got upset when she said that I would never leave here, among other things. But at that same time, it hit me that I never told them that I wanted to leave. So, they have just always assumed I would be around for whatever.”

“I see. So, what about your other friend who was with you both.”

“Oh, she’s fine. They both want me to live life, but she is the only one who appears to really support it. So, I know she will be fine when and if I do leave.”

“You mean, when you leave.”

“From your lips, to God’s ears. I have gone through many interviews, but the waiting game is a lot for me to deal with.”

“I understand that. But just focus on your defense. The full-time position will come.”

“I know, and besides, there is always a postdoctoral fellowship too. And those look great on CVs.”

“Exactly. You can apply for one of those and work at another school until you find the school that fits you.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But Dr. O and Dr. Bell both think that I don’t have to worry and will get an offer my first time out.”

“I believe that, too. You are a bright woman, DeeDee. Any school would be lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Erik.”

“You’re welcome.” Erik took a deep breath, “Speaking of Dr. Bell. I will be at her retirement party in a few weeks.”

“Really?” DeeDee squeaked into the phone, “I am so sorry that I keep yelling in your ear like that.”

“It’s ok. I knew to pull it away this time.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“Well, I was hoping that we could meet and you let me take you out while I’m in town. What do you say?”

“I would love that.”

“Good, so it’s a date?”

“It’s a date.” DeeDee giggled.

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites @ajspencer1892 @arafatih @issimplyaamazinggg @tchallasbabymama @killmonger-fics @beautifullmelodyxx @raysunshine78 @fd-writes @ljstraightnochaser

#25 days of christmas challenge #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #bp christmas #all i want #thadelightfulone

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Text

Little Stardew somethin’ somethin’

*Barges into your house with fluff nobody asked for* In this house we LOVE and RESPECT our sad boi and wish him well.

Hopeful Fluff of Shane getting better. Idk what to call it but I wrote it soooo-

TW: Mentions of alcoholism and withdrawals symptoms

Mornings were your favorite. The crisp mountain air coming in from your open windows. Helping erase the slight bitter tinge of mead and wine fermenting in your basement before the next festival. Pouring another cup of coffee you watch the sunrise from your kitchen window. It’s golden rays bounce off the river water flowing lazily outside your garden wall. A few fat salmon jumped out teasingly, scales shining in the cool fall air.

“Whatca think Salem?” You pat your shepherd's head. “Fishing after herding the sheep? Or a horse ride into town? I think Gus has got some new treats for ya.” Salem woofs, wagging his tail once before trotting to his dog bowl. He eats quickly then eyes the back door expectantly. “All right, herding it is.” Checking the breakfast casserole in the oven and peeking in on your boyfriend’s sleeping form you tiptoe out the house to get your morning started before breakfast.

Watering and harvesting took longer than usual. The fruit trees hung low and groaned under the weight of their labor. The peaches looked exceptional this harvest too. You pick them, making a mental note to preserve some for Evelyn and Abigail then sell the rest to Pierre. After the harvesting and several trips to the storage shed you go to check on all your babies.

Several new chickens had hatched overnight too. Three brown, a white, and another void. You tuck the little black chick into your hoodie and give it a smooch. As useless as their eggs were for eating you always had a soft spot for these tiny goth chickens. Taking it to the coop you had specially built for your void-born feathered friends you deposit the little one amongst its brethren. It peeps in thanks before waddling off to peck at the fresh feed.

Morning chores done, you jog back to your house hoping your casserole hasn't burned. The house smelled of spiced ham and fresh garlic when you reentered. The rest of the windows open to let in the river breeze and faint scent of your flower patches. The fireplace roared in its corner, chasing away the frosty nip that clung to your cheeks. “Shane?” You follow the noise from the mudroom to the kitchen entrance.

“Ye?” He poked his head around the corner. Warm brown eyes blink at you blearily. The corners of which were still crusted over with sleep. He must have just rolled out of bed. “Morin’.” He yawns widely scratching at his rumpled old gridball hoodie. Exchanging a brief morning breath laden kiss you smooth down a few of his more wild strands of bed head.

“Thought you were taking the day off?” Your lips touch again, pulling a happy little hum from him.

“I am. Just thought I would finish making breakfast so you could put your feet up faster. Plus, I think I finally figured out your ham recipes.” He drags you to your favorite spot at the breakfast nook before going back to the oven. “It’s the clove to cinnamon ratio ain’t it? Too much of either distract from the flavor of the fat.”

You nod in approval at his deduction. He pours you another cup of coffee, his hand shakes on the carafe handle. He was jittery today. Whether it was his anxiety spiking or just the jitter after a decent night of sleep you don’t know. But he’ll tell you when ready. He catches you staring when he turns back with two steaming plates of your eggs and veggie casserole and a thick slice of ham. “Tell me what you think.”

“I’m sure it's fabulous. Gus better watch out or there will be a new chef in town.” Shane practically glows at your praise watching you like a hawk as you eat. You inhale it, the morning exercises catching up with you. He lets you eat in silence, his previous twitchiness evaporating into a nervous silence. “Everything good?” You ask in between bites. You hated to pry or push but sometimes he needed a little nudge to get talking.

Shane stares into empty space above your head worrying his low lip. His fluffy brows dipping low. “Shit-ye- I got something to talk to you about.” He rose then, shuffling off to your shared bedroom. You exchange a worried look with Salem. He whined low in his throat then followed Shane. Since Shane had moved in Salem had stuck to him like glue. It tickled you, as he was not the friendliest dog to people that took your attention away from him. But, with Shane, he found a couch companion and a late-night walking pal. It worked out great for Shane’s mood and recovery.

Your boyfriend reappeared with a black binder and several stacks of paper. He places them in front of you. “I’ve been thinking over what you’ve said.” He stuffs his hands in his hoodie pockets burrowing himself deeper into the thinning fabric. “Between you and Harvey I-I want to have a go at it.” His eyes are downcast in shame. You riffle through the brochures.

Brentforest Care Facilities

“It’s a three-month inpatient care program. Harvey helped me set up the initial psych evaluation and has vetted for it. He’s got some friends that work there too. He-we think it would be good to work on a few hold-ups I’m having.” His stomach turns sour at the downward tug of your lips when you see the zero’s on the page. “Marnie is helping me cover the cost, an’ after the first few weeks I’m even allowed guests.” He pitters out, the overwhelming need to fill the dead air as you read disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“You got it all sorted out huh?” You look up from the documents. Shane nods. You look back at the books, then him. He forces himself to breathe through his nose. This is it. This was the last straw, it had to be. He couldn’t blame you though- he wasn’t worth the effort.

No-nope. Not starting this again. He fought with himself shaking the thoughts right out of his head. He trusted you. Dr. Martina trusted you. You were there during the worst of his withdrawal symptoms. The fevers, and shakes; you never flinched from his unwarranted shouting and irritability either. How many sleepless nights had you spent comforting him as he wept over things he wasn’t ready to talk about. You had gone through a lot with him and still was. You wanted to see him healthy. This was just another step.

“Dr. Martina- my therapist- and I have been working on this for a bit. I just need a few more signatures and to make the initial payment. Then- then I’m good.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, pushing the fear he felt further down in his chest.

His arms were suddenly filled with you. Your warm body flush with his. Soft skin and fresh windswept hair flooding his senses with your hug. “I’m so proud of you.” You mutter into his jacket. Farm callus fingers grip him close inviting him to hug you back. Shane let out a shaky breath he hadn’t even known he was hiding and reciprocated. He held you close and rocked you both side to side. “What do you need me to do?”

“Mmm?” He pulled you away from his neck. You loved burrowing your face there for some reason. Months ago he had hated when you did that. He always thought he smelt of stale sweat and the recycled air of the JoJo Mart. It had clung to every part of him for years. Hardly attractive by anyone's standards. But now, working out in the coops and fields alongside volunteering at the Community Center, it had all but disappeared. Now you swore he smelled like earth and like the pine trees that grew around your house. You had even admitted his sweat smells better too. Perhaps his alcohol sweats were finally lifting. Or maybe it was the better diet you made him eat.

“What do you need of me?” You kiss his scruffy cheek. Eyes alight with determination and affection.

He returns your kiss with a light peck of his own. “A few signatures- to show you can visit. An’ if there was an emergency you would be a contact. If-if that’s ok with you?” He asks.

“As if you had to ask.” You beam putting your forehead to his. “I’ll miss you.” You whisper between feather light kisses.

Shane sighs in utter relief around your coffee scented lips. “Promise to write?” He asks cupping your cheeks to rub his thumbs over the sun kissed skin. “And feed Charlie too?” You laugh, nose scrunching up in delight at his joke.

You seal the deal with a kiss.

#stardew valley #fan fic writing #stardew shane #It's fluff #i wanted it so I made it #tw: alcohol #just in case #shane x farmer #gn!farmer

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toysoldiers-rwby · 3 years

Text

[CS] 13. And Look Good Doing It.

Cutting Strings

Characters: Penny Polendinda, Aurora Glade, Ciel Soliel, Ashley Xanthic Word Count: 4.8k

Goodbyes and beginnings.

Read on Ao3

Approval Rate: Unnecessary. Error: Enemy Unknown. Archive Encrypted. Memory Defragmentation 100% Complete.

“Day 377,” Penny said as the last words faded from her vision and her systems HUD disappeared. Her eyes telescoped, adjusting to her room rather than empty space.

The software maintenance ran a little longer than the estimated two hours. Though considering she was backing it up directly to a flash drive and encrypting it at the same time, it was within the acceptable margin of error. She detached herself from the maintenance station and set it on her folded cloths on her desk, waiting for instillation into Billy.

Sorrow and fear almost overwhelmed her for a moment. The last few days have been… sweet and sad. Aro kept PAWM’s spirits up, Focus almost fooling everyone about the time Ironwood had stolen from them.

Penny decided to focus on the memories that celebrated her 20th day of birth, according to the documents Xanthic had forged. Ciel looked rather annoyed that she was the youngest amongst the team was the most responsible. Aro and Xan corrected her statement as morally responsible which only annoyed the officer further.

With a giggle returned to the maintenance station. Usually Penny would enter sleep mode during her monthly tune up. With the cord plugged directly into her core, it had direct permissions and access to any necessary systems it needed. But this time Penny caught her bare reflection in the metal walls.

Aro’s favored nickname for May twisted Penny’s power unit. Doll. That was exactly what Penny looked like, artificial skin bare of organic imperfections and far too smooth over her metal chassis. She didn’t have muscles gave and flex like Aro’s back or shoulders. Her body didn’t tell a history with scars like Winter, or held secrets like May and Aurora. It was worse than a doll… even they had a belly button. Explicit dolls for adults could even be a substitute for intimate companionship-

Penny closed her eyes and immediately shut down that line of inquiries. During their remaining time together… even with an uncertain future, neither May or Winter was consciously pushing for sexual intercourse. In private and… faux private spaces; Aurora’s physical affection could easily overwhelm their judgment, May’s sweet behavior melted into something heated, or Winter would just tease and prod one of them until Aurora or Penny’s unpracticed restraint broke, but it never gotten far enough to be inappropriate. It was clear they all wanted to continue but the limited time they had left always soured the mood.

Her girlfriends had also reassured her that sex was an added benefit of a romantic relationship. She didn’t need to directly participate, they would be happy if she was in the same room watching, talking, or even left altogether. They only request she’d join in the ‘post orgasm cuddles’ as Aro put it.

Considering Penny’s fascination with their reactions… Observing is within her capabilities, at the very least.

Penny opened her eyes and watched the mechanical arm spin around her, slicing the artificial skin open with precision to only allow access to the panels of her chassis. As long as her core was intact, her body could be upgraded. Though… asking her father for such upgrades was… Perhaps Xanthic was a better alternative? If only she knew how much of her body was metal.

For a moment Penny analyzed the benefits of directly defying the General’s orders. Considering what the consequences had done to Aro and Xan, Penny immediately didn’t get far in her list of benefits.

The upgrades were done almost too soon for Penny’s liking. Another hour closer till departure. Penny went through the checks as if it would slow time.

Somehow her father had developed a small bio-fuel converter, allowing her to ‘ingest’ small meals. Penny tried it with one of Aro’s sweets, a hard candy that would hold off her oral fixation during class and made her kisses taste sweet according to May and Winter. Penny still saw no need for any gustatory sensors, but she the act of rolling her jaw, clenching and moving her tongue was rather soothing and satisfying stim. She crunched it and swallowed the pieces. There was no feeling of anything entering her systems, but no alarm that anything went wrong either.

Her coolant system was drained, radiator equipped with some ice Dust infused metal, and coolant system refilled with a mixture of more ice Dust. Apparently it was organic friendly and Aura reacting, as it was the same coolant flowing through her teammates.

Her joints were equipped to withstand more impact that better suited Penny and Aro’s fighting style. The only thing Penny could not test was her new gyroscope. Her partner’s Dust manipulation far exceeded any military equipment Atlas or any kingdom had. She could only hope it could withstand her partner’s constant fluctuating field. Though… if it failed she would need emergency work from Aro and Xan which would lead to them discovering her synthetic nature… and Ironwood would tighten his control over the pair. Penny desperately hoped her upgraded gyroscope worked as intended.

The last, but perhaps most important change was the belly button on her feature. Her fingers brushed over it, programing reading the indent as damage so she quickly rewrote the code to ignore her new belly button.

“Penny?” Dr. Pietro called through the door. A knock followed shortly after. “It’s… time.” He said softly.

“Be right there!” Penny called out. She slipped into her first layers for human modesty and then her stockings followed lastly by her dress and shoes. She tucked the flash drive into a pocket and opened the door.

Dr. Pietro gave her a bright smile and hug. Xanthic’s robots gave a deep and polite bow before walking in and taking her luggage. Dr. Pietro’s chair walked around Penny doing a mock inspection that settled his curiosity than anything.

“Upgrades working?”

“Yes, sir!” Penny chirped, rolling to the balls on her feet. “Everything is in optimal levels,” She saluted playfully.

Dr. Pietro laughed and lead her out of her room and into elevator to the exit… The walls where she spent her first seven months were nearly foreign to her. Has it always been so silent and… stagnate? The only warmth and comfort of this place was from her father. So Penny smiled and kept her attention on him, and the three little box on his lap.

“What’s that?”

“It’s uh…” Dr. Pietro laughed a little nervously, “For Ms. Soleil and Ms. Xanthic. An upgraded model of her eyes, some modifications to Ms. Soleil’s chakrams, and…Extra disk and memory storages for you. You’ve grown faster than I anticipated due to being exposed to a… wide array of characters so suddenly.”

Penny giggled behind a hand. The immediate image her simulators created was Xanthic arguing with everyone. The level of hostility is heavily depended on her level of boredom. She prevents herself from truly habituating to her environment, always causing trouble though lately she’d been too focus on passing her… responsibilities to the Happy Huntresses.

Her father smiled brightly at her reaction, “So Team APCX is doing well? I was rather worried at first…”

“Oh, please do not worry! It’s been absolutely wonderful!” Penny smiled. She felt her Aura stir in the chest from the near lie she told. Eventually Penny blurted out, “It was… hard. At first. But not anymore!”

Dr. Pietro smiled. “That’s a relief. It’s a shame APCX is leaving just as Ms. Marigold and Ms. Xanthic started to get along again.”

“… Again?” Penny asked.

“Oh yes! Before Ms. Xanthic changed her name and-” A loud crash just beyond the front doors interrupted her father.

"Her what horns?!"

“I’m running on 3 hours of sleep, I’m sorry it just slipped!”

“Hide behind me again and I will Slow you,” Ciel threatened.

The doors opened to reveal a small group of people. Her team, the Specialist supposedly advising them, and finally the Happy Huntresses. Of course the commotion would be caused by May and Xanthic. The hacker was surprisingly nimble, weaving through the small crowd when May looked like she was ready to strangle her. Or shoot her, Penny corrected as May knelt down, one half of her crossbowstaff aimed at Xanthic.

The hacker had run from the crowd and blindly towards the Polendinas. In a burst of gravity Dust she floated up before colliding with them. Aro waved at her former mentor and his daughter.

“Salutations Aurora!” Penny smiled launching herself into her partners arms. Her gyroscope kept track of the ground and the lazy twirls weren’t as disorientating. She found herself seated in Aro’s crossed legs, floating in the air for a moment while their foreheads was pressed together. Penny savored watching the slow way her eyes dimmed as Focus slept.

“Salutations, Penn.” Aro whispered with a happy purr.

“He… Hello, Dr. Pietro.” May muttered rising to her feet. She quickly trying to hide her weapon behind her back. Even fully retracted it still peeked from her shoulders. She walked to Xanthic and stiffly set her on the ground, awkwardly smoothing out the hacker’s clothing she may or may not have ruffled.

“Perhaps I spoke too soon,” Dr. Pietro said with a sigh. He gave the two disappointed looks. The two hotheaded bluenettes both flinched, the fight suddenly gone. May retreated behind Winter who laughed softly. Her father quickly approached Xanthic and Ciel before the hacker could flee too and presented her gift, “I know you said you didn’t want to change your eyes but… here is a version of the model you have. Same look, some new features.”

“… Thanks, Dr. Pietro.”

Aurora finally settled down and their feet finally returned to solid ground. Penny looked at Winter, ready to approach her but the Happy Huntresses intercepted. Fiona hugged her first but Joanna swept her up in a hug.

“We’re gonna miss you Penny!” Fiona said, voice a little flat from the pressure Joanna was applying.

“You’re such a rare flower in this cold*, cold kingdom*,” Joanna yelled glaring at Winter and May. Judging by their tentative glances at Xanthic it was because they were still at odds with her.

“Yeah, Swords. You really have a habit of livening the place up,” Robyn said. As always the leader was much calmer than her team and settled for patting her head and straightening her bow. “Take care of Aro?”

"Don’t you mean, Aro take care of her?" Aurora asked with a small pout.

“Your civilian ass needs all the help you can get,” Fiona teased. Aro rolled her eyes and let herself be pulled into a hug. When Joanna let go Fiona had somehow switched her hug from Penny to Aro. “Be good okay! Remember to eat all three meals, and to sleep. Don’t set buildings on fire! Unless…”

“They are SDC assholes.” Aro finished with a laugh. After another affectionate nuzzle Fiona jumped off and started to prounce towards Xanthic and Ciel. The officer quickly intercepted Fiona’s grabby hands. Aro gestured towards May and Winter, “Go on, I’ve… said my byes.”

“Did… did you ever answer May’s question?”

“I’m not leaving her,” Aurora answered quickly but calmly. Her sea-green eyes shined with tears that didn’t want to fall. “Never her. Atlas on the other hand…” She held the statement in her mouth with a distasteful growl.

“A lot can happen in four months,” Joanna said patting her shoulder. “Platinum for example,” She said with a large grin. Aurora blushed, glancing away. Penny could feel her Aura stir up some heat within her.

“Maybe we can turn it into a place you’ll actually come back too?” Robyn offered. The leader gave Penny a charismatic smile, “Go on, Swords. May is patient when she wants to be but make her wait any longer and she might cry.” Penny nodded waving the women bye as she approached Winter and May.

“Sorry but… can you go over Sector 17 again?” Joanna asked a little timidly.

“17 is mostly Xan’s responsibility though it heavily overlaps with 18 due to their high Faunus population.” Aro explained calmly. “A lot of family from the mines, a lot of heating leaks, not enough lien…”

Penny tuned out their conversation when May rushed forward, pulling her into a hug. Penny was a little surprised at how she lifted her off the ground and carried her onto the airship. Out of sight from her father, May gave her a proper kiss. Her kisses were always the most chaste, sweet and smiling. This time Penny could feel a heated desperation like the one she witness between her and Aro two weeks ago. Penny tried to quell it, holding her face and meeting the kiss just as hard.

When May had to breath Penny pulled back and was returned to the ground. A soft chilled hand drifted to Penny’s cheek, guiding her eyes up. Away from the cameras and in the privacy of the airship, Winter’s military façade fell away to a sad and resigned lover.

While Winter didn’t literally sweep Penny off her feet like Aro could the way that Winter would cradle her cheek and tilt her chin up would had the same effect. Penny rolled onto her toes and she’d forget to breath. Winter’s lips may be the coldest of the three but that only made Penny chase her more. Eventually Winter pulled back to breath and the two huntresses held Penny tight for a moment.

“Aurora said you two had a gift for us?” Winter said.

“Oh yes!” Penny smiled. She dipped into the cockpit for a second, looking under the seats. With her sharp eyes she barely made out the slumbering mechanical pet. She picked it up and set it down at May and Winter’s feet. To them it appeared as a roughly shaped metal rectangle with some fur on top. Their suspicions eased when Penny opened a hidden panel on the back of his neck and inserted the flash drive into it. Slowly the goat horns extended out from his head, “Billy 2.0!” She said with a large smile.

He was no longer a pocket sized mechanical pet but stood near the same height of a medium dog. Aurora modeled his appearance after the Kiko goat native to island areas, such as Menagerie. The top was covered with fur that tapered to make it look like it had a metal underbelly and sides. Billy’s new chassis was retractable, malleable or layered. He stretched, the fur moving and metal shifting in a way that mimicked organic flesh to a jealous degree.

Upon seeing Penny the no-longer-tiny-goat happily prounced, his speakers bleating. Then he looked up to Winter and May, head tilting side to side as hard-light question marks popped up next to his head.

Whenever Aro or Xan wasn’t preparing the Happy Huntresses to take over the responsibilities and… less reputable activities, they helped Penny upgrade Billy. Xanthic altered an unused AI core with intelligence far greater than even the most intelligent bred dogs.

Ciel had offer to test it at her place in Mantle to keep the others from finding it. During testing Billy was able to correctly clean the floor, return an assortment of clothing and footwear to their proper places and work the dishwasher. Aro did the physical upgrades and because of their preference for Dust, equipped Billy with a cuddle warming function and the hard-light emotes.

May gasped, eyes wide. “That’s so… cute!”

Hearts appeared next and Billy did a little happy dance. He nuzzled her legs affectionately. Billy made shook his head at her and clomped his feet when May didn’t respond. A hard-light instructional picture of ‘How to pet animals’ popped up and Billy wiggled his head and ears expectantly. “Wow… what a brat,” May said. She finally pet him and he danced happily again.

He wandered back to Winter blinking expectantly. Penny giggled at her face. The Specialist looked down at it a little confused, conflicted, and surprisingly overwhelmed. Tentatively she knelt down and held out a hand to which Billy immediately nuzzled against.

“… His fur is soft.” Winter murmured in surprised. “I’ve always wanted a pet as a kid. I was thinking about getting one after graduation but never had time.”

“Don’t worry, as a completely inorganic entity his needs are minimal.” Penny said.

“But he still has needs?” Winter asked a little amused. She was a little shocked when Billy nodded his heads. A few images appeared by his head. It consisted of sleeping, more petting, and walking.

At the sound of someone approaching, Winter immediately slipped back into her military persona. It was disheartening, but adorably so when Billy threw a small fit at the lack of attention and headbutted Winter’s leg softly. Her composure broke a little, looking down at her new pet.

Aro laughed at the entrance, “He’s also too smart for his own good,” She said. Winter’s façade melted into a sad smile. She readily accepted Aurora embrace as she wrapped her arms around Winter’s neck. The two shared a content smile before Aro leaned up for a quick kiss… but considering how Aurora likes to expose as much as that tattoo as possible Winter followed and pushed until her back was against the wall.

Penny saw a flash of teeth as it sunk into Aro’s bottom lip. The Faunus tried to stifle a groan, ears fluttering a bout. It was only when Winter’s hands grasp the clothing tight under Aro’s breast did May and Penny intervene.

“Ahem,” May cleared her throat. Winter pulled back and looked down at the disheveled former businesswomen. There was an unmistakable blush outlining her cheeks and blossoming on her chest, creating a lovely contrast with her tattoos. Her lips were a little swollen with the kiss. With a satisfied hum Winter stepped back leaving Aro dazed enough to slide down the wall a few inches.

“Come, Billy.” Winter said guiding him off the ship. She did give Penny one more kiss, a tinder one to the inside of her wrist before finally leaving the airship. Penny heard Fiona and let out a gasp and tiny squeals and she knew Billy was dancing and bleating at her. May laughed at Aro, pressing their foreheads together as she helping the Faunus to the pilot seat and straightening out her clothes.

Similarly May stole one more kiss with Penny, lingering as much as possible before she heard Xanthic and Ciel walk up the ramp. The two Spymasters frowned at each other. Xanthic smirked, “Please keep Fiona from burning sector three to the ground. They have the most racist clubs.”

“I… make no promises,” May mumbled. The huntress gave Ciel a much more civil farewell and left, giving Penny and Aurora a longing glance.

“First stop, Argus,” Aro said. “Next stop Beacon.” The airship lifted off but hesitated. From the windows they saw May quickly wiping her tears, a broken smile on her face as she waved them off with one hand, the other hand tightly holding Winter’s. Winter was much calmer, a somber smile and a small playful salute bye.

Penny wrapped her arms around Aro, careful not to jostle her control over the ship. The pair blew their girlfriends a kiss before finally rising in altitude, seeing a real smile break over May and Winter’s face even if the pair was a little embarrassed. With a sad sigh Penny took her rightful place in the co-pilot seat. Aurora put on some soft house music.

At first the flight was tense and sad. When it droned on to long Xanthic made an displeased noise and stood to hover at the cockpit. “You know I hate tension unless I’m the cause of it. So fucking quit it.”

“Sorry if I’m sad that I needed to leave the women I’ve been in love with for years!” Aro snapped back, eyes flashing. Penny and Ciel was a little taken back by the vicious anger. Penny had a hard time recalling a similar outburst, but the one with Turk filtered in.

Xanthic had known her… and dating her- and wasn’t fazed. She merely posed against the metal frame and raised a brow. The hacker let the radio roll on for a bit while Aro slowly simmered down. Penny watched with a small smile as Aro’s words finally registered and a blush appeared on her cheeks. “… You did tell her, right? That you loved her?”

There was a whine as Aro sunk into her seat a little. “No…” Xanthic looked at Penny for confirmation. Penny wrinkled her nose, trying to remember a direct declaration of love. There were many acts and words that shown it but nothing explicit. Penny shook her head.

“Too be fair action speaks louder than words,” Ciel said. Penny glanced behind and Xanthic moved a little so she could see the officer. Ciel was laid back flicking through the TV for something to watch. She stopped at a station committed to celebrities and gossip. They flicked through several pictures of Aro draped on May, their arms linked together, or trying to taunt the women into a kiss. A few of them involved hand holding with Penny, arms wrapped around her shoulder or a calm and affectionate smile… it seemed to be in a much more platonic perspective when compared with May.

“You obviously love all of them.” Ciel said. She finally clicked past the gossip stations. There was nothing about Winter’s romantic life. Penny looked at Xanthic who met her eyes with an unspoken challenge.

Xanthic broke it first, looking back at Aro, “You should have just gotten her name tattooed on your ass cuz she clearly owns it.”

“How crass, there’s two other people,” Ciel’s eyes lazily shifted to Penny, acting as if it was an afterthought she just remembered. “A collar is much more versatile.”

Aro made odd whines and the two chuckled at their leader’s expense. Satisfied with the change in mood Xanthic laid down on the sofa, feet up in Ciel’s lap. The officer glared but didn’t entertain the hacker with a fight or argument and continued flicking through something to watch.

Penny finally decided to have a fluid stance on the hacker’s attitude and behavior. There were a few times Penny was grateful for her need to be the center of attention and urge to keep things from habituating. Penny gladly added this occasion to the list.

The flight to Argus was faster than projected, but they were in a nonstandard airship built by one of the greatest minds in Atlas. As the bay doors open and light filled the airship Penny had a sudden realization.

“I’m on a different continent…” She whispered softly.

“First time out of Solitas?” Aro asked. Penny grinned up at her and bounced in place. The Faunus smiled and took her hand. Before APCX stepped out Focus woke up and shined through her pupils. “I promise to make up for Cordovin.”

Penny frowned. It took a moment for Penny’s systems to access her preinstalled data and scroll down the list of Specialist to find Caroline Cordovin. A long list of… notes, were hidden under high level credentials.

“Ms. Aurora Glade!” The women greeted just as APCX stepped off the ramp. Penny smiled politely down at the women, but she didn’t have the magical concentration Focus gave Aurora. Ciel and Xanthic openly scowled at the next words that bellowed from the tiny women, “The shining jewel of what Atlas could bring to the world!”

Glancing at her partner, Penny saw Focus flash, reattuning for a subservient role in this conversation. Aurora laughed gently, scratching the back of her head in faux embarrassment. There was no blush and no flittering ears. Instead she was trying to fluff out her hair to appear softer. Despite the buzz on the sides of her head, Aro’s hair was still thick enough to accomplish that.

"Oh and company," Cordovin added, gaze lingering with distant at where Aro and Penny’s hands intertwined.

“Team APCX,” Xanthic quickly correct. Cordovin just waved the hacker off leaving her to scowl in open surprise. Ciel and Penny tried not to snicker or giggle at her face.

“Thank you, Specialist Cordovin.” Aro said, business voice smooth and low. “I will ensure your compliments reach my former mentor on my next return to Atlas.”

Cordovin smiled brightly and seemed to preen. “Of course you will! A civilized Faunus like you knows proper etiquette.” Penny moved racism to the top of Cordovin’s… notes.

“Ms. Glade!” A civilian with tangled mess of clearance badges and other tags ran up to her, followed closely by two of guards. “A moment of your time… or hour,” CCT Technician Terra Cotta asked, pushing up her glasses.

“Sorry ma’am. You lack the proper clearance levels for this area-”

Aurora interrupted the guard with a gentle laugh, but the hand in front of her face seemed to hid baring fangs. “Military still giving you issues?”

“Ms. Glade had far more pressing matters she needs to is scheduled to be attending,” Cordovin snapped. With a wave of her hands the guards cornered the technician.

“I’m sure Iron, G-General Ironwood,” Aro quickly correct, Focus briefly flashing at full potential before shrinking down to her pupils again. “Would greatly approve of any measure taken to avoid a communication failure between Kingdoms.” She said demurely. Penny must have been making a face because Xanthic and Ciel tried to hide their snickering.

“Hmm…” Cordovin rubbed her chin in thought. “Very well. Just remember you’re true purpose here, Ms. Glade.”

“To help protect Atlas and her people outside the kingdom.” Aro gave a graceful bow. Penny looked to the sharp tips of the horns that glistened in the sunlight. "How could I ever forget about the Kingdom that has done so much to me."

Of course Cordovin wasn’t tactile enough to notice the words. Penny smiled with some satisfaction as the women seemed content and turned to leave. After all military personal followed their leader away, Aro straightened. APCX and the technician laughed softly, Focus vanished and soft snarling expression on curling Aro’s lips.

Terra snorted, “Come on, let’s get you and your friends out of here.” She said leading them to the gates away from the Atlesian military base.

“We aren’t friends,” Xanthic quickly protested crossing her arms.

Terra gave a teasing smile, looking at the halo and horns “Girlfrie…” Her words drifted off as she finally noticed Penny and Aro’s intertwined hands. Possibly because Penny purposely pulled Aurora closer and her face may have been in an angry pout. “R-Right… teammates!” Terra quickly turned around trying to hide the panic look across her face. “Sorry. Aro always had a thing for blue hair and… you kind of remind me of Silvio Watts…”

Penny hummed angrily, glaring up at the halo. Aro laughed softly, giving her an affectionate and reassuring nuzzle. Followed by a kiss when Penny pressed their lips together.

“Actually Terra… Xanthic is more than capable of helping you with the CCT issues,” Aro said. Terra raised a skeptical brow at Xanthic. The technician seemed unnerved by the way her prosthetic eyes stared back. “She’s kind of… an unofficial protégée of Author Watts.”

“How did you manage that?” Terra asked Xanthic. “Dr. Watts only took on his nephew and just barely. He was so hard on that poor boy.”

Xanthic blinked slowly at her. “Good thing the dead can’t stop people from rifling through their research,” She responded coldly. Terra gave Aro an alarmed and concerned look and she gave a shrug of her muscular shoulders.

Ciel gave Penny an amused smile. “Never a dull moment with the anarchist.”

“What? A new school and kingdom not entertaining enough for you,” Xanthic said with an offended drawl. “At this point you should pay me for being your personal entertainment.”

“I’m not paying for a shitty escort.”

“Bitch, did you just…”

Penny smiled, rolling her eyes at the pair and looked around to take in the sites. Once away from the military base, she could clearly see the mixture of cultures. The buildings looked to be Minstral with Atlas functionality added in. Penny rested her head against Aro’s shoulder and enjoyed the kiss to her head.

Day 1 away from Atlas. Day 1 free from General Ironwood.

With a grin and a nervous laugh Penny pulled Aurora forward, to explore the new city.

#Penny Polendina #fic #cutting strings #pre-fall of beacon #aurora glade #apcx #ciel soleil #ashley xanthic #pfenning #qued

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

Text

Judgment needed, not judgment deserved

Chapter 7 of The Spring He Came Back | 7 of 12

The academy tribunal was rarely used. When it was opened to the public, it only meant that the students and professors violated the stringent protocols of the academy. Public trial also implied public shaming, a more surefire way to ruin an academic reputation. The regular admission students filled the big room, hushed voices growing along with the shuffling of feet.

It took a while before Hitsugaya to reach the front benches where Soul members were supposed to sit. He almost froze when his eyes met the wavering gaze of Momo. They both said hurtful words, but hers were more painful. She was standing beside Aizen who was still smiling behind the podium. Hitsugaya eventually found Rangiku, Rukia, and Renji sitting behind Urahara and Byakuya.

Unohana stepped forward, her figure commanded the fall of heavy silence in the room. Academy supervisors readied their hands on laptops for real time transcription. “Aizen Sousuke, senior faculty and Soul member, and Hinamori Momo, top student of regular class A, you are facing charges for plagiarism, fraud, and embezzlement. I, Unohana Retsu, will oversee your public trial today. Please acknowledge your audience.”

“What a beautiful day,” Aizen only replied. Hitsugaya can barely keep his irritation under control because while he was keeping that smile on his face, his research assistant was far from pretending to be happy. It didn’t slip his eyes that the professor lightly tapped Momo’s shoulder in a pretend assurance.

“You’re such a liar, Sousuke,” Urahara Kisuke said aloud. Unohana glared at him with her smiling eyes.

“Dr. Urahara, please do not speak unless we acknowledge you. Please respect the rules of our academy.”

“Oh right, I was on sabbatical leave. Many things happened huh? Like you stealing my work?” It was clear Urahara was prodding Aizen on, but the latter only kept smiling without even recognizing his statements. Byakuya placed a hand on Urahara’s shoulder, willing him to calm down in front of such a large crowd.

“Dr. Aizen, please answer in affirmative if you have written the studies published in the following journals….” Unohana listed the titles, all of which Momo assisted in. “Are you aware that your programming method, experiment design, and control treatment parameters were similar with Dr. Urahara Kisuke’s work?”

“I was promptly assisted by my great assistant, Hinamori Momo, in conjuring those designs. It was due to her hard work under my guidance that we were able to come up with such results,” Aizen deftly defended himself. For a minute, Hitsugaya thought he wouldn’t genuinely hurt Momo.

“You submitted a patent application to your design, calling it the Aizen Theorem.”

“That is right, again thanks to the bright idea of my trusted partner, Momo.” The casual use of her nickname didn’t escape Hitsugaya’s ears or the blush that crept on her cheeks.

“Fuck you.” He muttered under his breath. He knew where this was going.

“Are you saying Hinamori Momo is the root of all your charges?”

“I didn’t say anything like that, Dr. Unohana.”

“You are implying it is.”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? Isn’t it the reason why she’s here?” Aizen placed his hand behind Momo’s back and urged her to come at the front, thereby shifting the blame to her.

“She’s not credited for his works, not one.” Hitsugaya tried telling Byakuya. Rukia held him back, her eyes telling him not to interfere.

“Y-yes, it was me.” Momo’s voice was shaking, her eyes can barely look at Unohana. She was still probably angry at Hitsugaya, but her teary gaze wandered to look for him in the sea of indictors. When their eyes met, she conveyed her worry and fears. For Aizen or for herself, he’ll never know.

“Hinamori Momo, did you also know that Dr. Aizen forged his reference papers?”

“That’s not true, Dr. Unohana.” Aizen laughed this off as if it wasn’t a heavy violation.

That easygoing nature was lost on Momo, however. She cannot answer. She was frozen in spot, silently screaming help across Hitsugaya who was also powerless against the hold of his other friends.

“Hinamori Momo, were you involved in preparing budgets for your projects?”

“Y-yes, Dr. Unohana.” Momo’s voice was a desperate plea for help. Aizen, despite being the lead charge in the studies mentioned, looked like he was having the time of his life. He has his model scapegoat, after all. An enamored, naïve research assistant who could take the fall.

“So were you aware that these studies were declared under the academy’s jurisdictions, but the investors’ money were being funneled directly into Dr. Aizen’s personal banks?”

Hinamori, again, failed to answer.

“She has nothing to do with this.” Hitsugaya gritted his teeth.

“If she wasn’t remotely involved, shouldn’t it be simple to say no?” Byakuya asked him in all seriousness. Emotions do not hold metric in their system, but emotions are heavy tolls in Momo’s.

“I…don’t know,” Momo muttered under her breath.

“These are hilarious charges, Unohana.” Aizen dropped the doctor designation. “You don’t even have evidence on us.” His face was truly sure that he was out of the woods.

“Sorry, Toshi,” his mentor told him before standing up with Byakuya. The two of them walked towards Unohana and gave her a black notebook, a folder, and several documents. Hitsugaya’s face fell flat, and cold sweat started kicking in. He was the only one who knew where they were stored.

“These are Urahara Kisuke’s field notes, your forged references, and budget documents – we managed to gather them from Hinamori’s house. We received a call from one of the investors, wondering why no one apart from you was collaborating with them. An internal team investigated your office but found nothing.” Unohana looked directly at Momo, but she was staring at Hitsugaya. “An informant tipped us where to find them.”

Momo - wide-eyed and filled with bitter tears of betrayal. If he could hear her silent screams, it would be a ringing why, and he couldn’t give an answer. He never disclosed the location of the notebook or talked about the references with anyone. He never shared his messy, confused thoughts or his turmoil in her decisions. He endured his pain alone so why would he weaponize it to get back to her? Why would he when he loves her?

“Convenient, isn’t it?” Aizen asked dryly. The smile was nowhere to be seen, only a grim countenance.

“A third-party laboratory analyzed these documents, Aizen.” Unohana also dropped the honorific. Damn the damned. “They did cross-comparisons of your handwriting and Urahara’s. They were significantly different, as well as from the hundreds of designs and blueprints we found. University references have unique watermarks in hard copies which yours didn’t have. The budget documents we sent over to the investors. You should know by now they pulled out of our town’s development.”

“Plead guilty now, Sousuke.” Urahara antagonized him further.

If his wounded gaze could convey his sincerest thoughts to her, she wouldn’t have probably done the next thing.

“It was all me, Dr. Unohana.” Momo raised her hand. Her eyes were brimming with tears but she dared not blink. “I fed Dr. Aizen the notebook, the documents, and I suggested he source out personal funds from the academy investment. It was all me. Please don’t give him a sentence. Please punish me instead.”

“Momo, no.” Hitsugaya was scrambling to stand up. Three pairs of strong arms held him down to his seat, three faces all similarly pained.

There was a clear power imbalance between the mentor and the research assistant which Hitsugaya’s group and the senior faculty knew, but Aizen played this to his advantage.

“Why don’t you put it to a vote?” a student called out.

“Dr. Aizen wouldn’t do such thing.” “He is so kind to us.” “He’s so intelligent he doesn’t even need that.” “He will never use a student that way.” “The audacity of that peasant to feed him lies? Sickening. She deserves to be banished.”

Bit by bit, the whispers grew into a full-blown uproar. This was the flaw of the public tribunal, a flaw that Aizen turned into an opportunity. The board members of the academy called Unohana to the side and delivered their judgment.

“Hinamori Momo, starting today, you are expelled from the academy.”

It was a judgment needed, but not the judgment deserved. Because Hinamori Momo was a girl from an unknown background with no strong backing. Because she was a student while Aizen came from a family with a high pedigree. Because she dedicated her life to a man who emotionally manipulated her. Because she was too trusting, too naïve, too easily swayed. Because she has emotions. Because she was Momo.

She was ushered out by some administrators, her eyes glued to the ground. They were soon followed by shuffling of feet and disgruntled students heaving sighs of relief from the ordeal. When all of that has come to pass, it was Aizen’s turn to go.

“Such a drag, huh?” Aizen mentioned to no one in particular. “Hoping you could catch me?”

“I am advising you to transfer,” Unohana hasn’t backed down. “That was what the board wanted.”

“Ahead of you, Retsu. That’s exactly my next step.” Aizen stopped beside the bench where Hitsugaya’s group still stood waiting. “Though it was unfortunate to let go of Momo. How sweet that girl was, so willing and so hardworking, to the point that she left her grandma alone to work.”

If blood could boil, Hitsugaya’s veins could have popped, drowning Aizen with his heated rage.

“Too bad that her best friend outed her, huh? If only she was more careful of who she associated with.”

A punch landed on Aizen face and then several more. Hitsugaya was but thirteen but his fists saw older days on the streets. After all, he was a peasant and a peasant always fought back. The fucker was the one who tipped the investigators, making Momo think it was Hitsugaya. He probably could have bought them himself. He capitalized on Hitsugaya and Momo’s relationship to drive a rift and completely separate himself from the problem. The fucker was a master emotional manipulator.

A flurry of robes forcefully grabbed Hitsugaya away from a smirking Aizen. “Fucking liar.”

“Hitsugaya Toushiro!” Byakuya rarely raised his voice, but the intensity of his warning stiffened Hitsugaya.

Aizen walked out of the classroom, seemingly unruffled as if he didn’t have a bruised eye or a cut lip. It took all of Hitsugaya’s energy not to go after him and put more damages in.

“Still the same MO,” Urahara said. “Best be careful around him, Toshi.”

“You know you need to be reprimanded for this, Hitsugaya.” Unohana said. “But I won’t because you’re one of our best.”

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

The secret hideout and their silent reprieve – it became his escape. He couldn’t go to Momo to comfort her. From her understanding, he betrayed her. So he wallowed in self-pity, in helplessness, in his weakness. It wasn’t enough that he was like this. He skipped all his classes, didn’t do his experiments, and avoided the well-meaning questions of his friends. He picked fights, especially with regulars. They kept on calling Momo names, painting her to be the manipulator that put Aizen in such a complicated position when it was the other way around.

The opportunity came when Byakuya called him to his office. Urahara was there too. It was probably about his behavior.

“You can’t protect your friend like this,” his mentor told him. “Not when Sousuke still roams the academic field like a vulture.”

“We need to permanently excommunicate him,” Byakuya concurred. “We can only do that if we catch him red-handed alone, with no one to pass the blame on. He has done this exact operation in previous schools, but his networks run deep.”

“And he just appears to his next victim school like a mushroom.” Urahara poured Hitsugaya tea, and his heart throbbed in pain because Momo used to do that. “With a clean slate. So bigger higher-ups must be involved, funneling research and development funds into shady accounts yada yada.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Hitsugaya asked his mentors.

“You’re still a kid, Toshi.” Urahara ruffled his silver hair and his mind jolted back to a memory of a daffodil flower crown, Momo’s smile, and that last hug. “You can’t go around picking fights for her sake. It’s a lost cause. She’s shunned by the community.”

“You can’t continue associating yourself with her, Hitsugaya,” Byakuya added. “Because that will be an added burden. You’ll only rise from this. But when you do and you choose to remain here, she will not be rid of those comments. Considering your history, she’ll be accused again of feeding you plagiarized notes, helping you with fraud, and embezzling funds.”

“No one can protect her from those. She has no friends left,” Hitsugaya interjected. In no world will he leave Momo alone. He can’t see past the reasons given by his teachers. “She only has….me.” The doubt was in the open before he could open his lips. Not after the public tribunal. She made the decision that he wasn’t on her side.

Urahara took away the already cold tea in his hands and smiled at him through his long fringes. “Or you could go abroad, become the best, catch Aizen red-handed, and clear her name. Sounds good, right? Come with me again, my intern.”

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

Snow marked the start of winter. Hitsugaya waited beside Urahara on the platform outside of town, the train arriving at their station any time soon. He made his goodbyes to Rukia, Renji, and Rangiku, all three asking silently whether it was okay to tell Momo. He shook his head in defiance, not wanting to trouble her further.

When the train arrived, he almost hesitated. At the very least, he wanted to see her again and Baba and share a watermelon for the last time. The doors opened and Urahara signaled to go inside quickly.

Please mind your distance. The doors are closing soon. The doors are closing soon.

The doors finally closed and Hitsugaya leaned on the side, tears pooling in his eyes. It was goodbye. The wheels started to keep pace and the slow fall of white snow turned into a flurry. As the train left the station, he caught a glimpse of loose black hair dancing with the wind. Maybe he just imagined it.

NEXT CHAPTER | 8 OF 12 | BREATHING IS A FOREIGN TASK

#hitsuhina #hitsugaya toshiro #toshiro hitsugaya #hitsugaya #hinamori momo #momo hinamori #aizen sousuke #aizen #unohana #byakuya #bleach couples #bleach #anime #fanfiction #fanfic #anime fanfic #matsumoto rangiku #kuchiki rukia #abarai renji

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alvinsoffie · 3 years

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WORLD AIDS DAY 2020

December 1,

Theme: Each World AIDS Day focuses on a specific theme,

This years theme is “ Global Solidarity: Shared Responsibility. ”

A look back at recent themes gives an interesting perspective:

2020 Global solidarity, shared responsibility

2019 Communities make the difference

2018 Know your status

2017 My health, my right

2016 Hands up for HIV prevention

Personal awareness and responsibilty, coupled with Community support is a reasonable paradigm for moving the HIV/AIDS agenda forward. Embracing this can go a far way to achieve the Goals for eliminating HIV

" World AIDS Day remains as relevant today as it’s always been, reminding people and governments that HIV has not gone away. There is still a critical need for increased funding for the AIDS response, to increase awareness of the impact of HIV on people’s lives, a need to end stigma and discrimination and to improve the quality of life of people living with HIV."

I am quoting directly from UNAIDS here.

A useful way to compare The two pandemics: The 40 year old HIV/AIDS pandemic is the stately annual journey around the sun. COVID 19 is the 28 day cycle of the moon around the earth. It's busy and frenzied. Because it shares the same stigmas, the same governments the same communities; the same inequities: we get a quicker look at the cycle of events. Some countries are already on their third wave, their third cycle or go round of COVID 19. And lessons are being learned at this heightened pace.

This crisis, This frenzied pace has become a wake-up call, an opportunity to do things differently—better, and together. In many respects, the defeat of AIDS as a public health threat could depend on how the world responds to COVID-19.

Inasmuch as COVID 19 has overshadowed the AIDS pandemic. we DO note that some important lessons are being learned and that with care we can utilize aspects of the COVID 19 response to improve HIV response and awareness.

Since you have invited a religous, I believe that you are expecting some insight from a Christian or Biblical perspective, and if this is so, I wouldn't want to disappoint you.

I did some homework, a little research, and came away shocked! In a sense upset on learning that Stigma is the main deterent and source of frustration for battling and overcoming the effects of the AIDS epidemic.

As I looked at the seven types of stigma identified across a range of psychosocial situations, I came to realize that Stigma and its associates, prejudice and discrimination, are deeply ingrained responses that are applied outside of logic and wisdom, and where it surfaces can surprise you.

For the record the seven types of Stigma are:

PUBLIC, SELF, PERCEIVED, LABEL AVOIDANCE, BY ASSOCIATION, STRUCTURAL, AND HEALTH INDUSTRY PERSONEL.

All of these manifestation of Stigma are being experienced in real time in this COVID 19 pandemic. Lets not forget that persons were beaten for sneezing, an involuntary act. Fear and paranoia brings out the worst in us. Where they find common ground, the excesses are very dangerous.

To return to the global AIDS response; At a time when 'untraceable equals untransmittable is a reality already, It is strange that there is no obvious reintegration mechanism for the persons who can overcome the virus. Right HERE, such a mechanism or protocol could provide a rallying point against the stigma PLHIV face. It becomes a powerful incentive to reach for; a goal to achieve. This is one crucial difference with COVID 19, Governments want us to get back to work so there are tests and procedures for reintegration for those who have caught and overcome the virus. The reintegration is SPONSORED because it is deemed vital.

The HIV scenario still has gender bias and sexuality and dominance issues that drive the stigma and after 40 years they remain well entrenched globally.

What does scripture have to offer here. Both Old and New Testaments recognize a variety of diseases that initially demand isolation and removal from communal life. Numbers 12 points to a situation where Miriam the sister of Moses was punished with a skin disease and was out of the camp in isolation for 10 days. Even here there was a clear return to community. She wasn't cast into outer darkness with weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth! Israel camped and waited for her. Just a biblical reminder that it always help to have a celebrity or power person build empathy for your cause.

The reintegration mechanism was well defined. The priests were trained and were the ones assigned the inspection of the suffering person. Once satisfied of their rehabilitation, they offered the necessary sacrifice and were fully reintegrated into family and community.

In the Gospels where Jesus was remarkably open to transformative action on peoples behalf, his advise to cured lepers, to

" show yourself to the priests ...

and

" Offer the sacrifices Moses commanded"

leverages this generations old schema for returning the renewed back to community. Jesus did not subvert the process: he co-opted the process for the validation that it offered. The process is Critical! In real life more than a few persons doing well on their regime fall away and do not return for medication and help. The validation process is aborted by some triggered fear and more than a few will end up dead; losing their lives.

A lesson here is that education doesnt always defeat prejudice. In fact it can provide seemingly plausible justification for discrimination. This is why discrete access to health care for PLHIV is a necessity. Thank God for JASL.

The Label Avoidance Stigma is the most insiduous of the seven. It is the one that keeps the infected person from seeking help. in your community or elsewhere. They know full well that bush have ears and if you are seen in Mocho or Portland or Mandiville at a clinic the rumour mill will grind and your issues will be publicised. They keep quiet and die quieter still. I have seen it up close and it hurts my heart every time I am faced with it. Let me say it again; Thank God for JASL

Sadly, you are as likely to hear a pastor or preacher condemn the sick and declare God's judgment rather than provide access to care and counselling and in hospitals one has to deal with health professionals whose personal biases become stumbling blocks to personal healthcare services..some share unethically, the details of their patients, furthering stigma and discrimination ... very well documented.

If the church would follow Its Lord's instructions. If it would extend itself to speak for the voiceless

Someone came to Jesus for healing and the discussion began: 'Lord, If you choose you can make me whole'. Jesus said, 'I DO Choose!' If our churches would follow Jesus and choose to facilitate health and wholeness, a lot could change.

Church could stand with or stand up for the sick especially PLHIV/AIDS. it could do a lot to counter stigma, to counter the whispered inuendos that is Stigma by Association. Stigma by Association is the one that kills community support for the needy. It is the one that ties you to the presumed sexual preferences and activities of the persons you are inclined to help.

Churches could build support for members and persons who are HIV positive, but who would dare share their status with the brothers or sisters in church. Very few keep secrets, fewer still, exhibit compassion. We need radical Christianity of the leave all and follow Jesus variety.

Returning to the bigger stage, the theme Global solidarity, shared responsibility invites us to revisit our relationships and the activities they engender. Global solidarity invites us to explore the Global response and align ourselves with projects and activities that we are able to support. There are a plethora of them and myriad best practices scenarios waiting for our implementation.

One important feature of World Aids Day is the memorialization of the dead. Given the early stigma and circumstances of dying, many persons have not been properly remembered and closure is still eluding some families who have lost loved ones to HIV/AIDS.

The opportunity to come out and name them and remember them is hugely therapeutic. This is something that the Church does well. Catholicism provides a liturgy on All Saints Day, November 1 for the memorialization of our dead. We do it systematically and we know the benefits of it. We light the votive candle, we pray for those we love, and we ask God in his Love and Mercy to deal kindly with them.

There is a ministry here for churches. There is a place where we can quietly exercise the gift of presence as in grief counselling and just be there for those who need us. There is a place for a prophetic voice that can stop the slander and inuendo by its forthright affirmation of the Person living with HIV as a full and complete human being, bearing the image of GOD.

Even in death, the stigma continues and the cause of death for the death certificate can be problematic for family members. To remove Stigma is to open up the resources freely and fully for those who need it. This day must come sooner rather than later. these are difficult times, make no mistake. But we can make a difference if we try a little bit harder.

Shared Responsibility brings us back to Genesis and Cain's question ' Am I my brother'e keeper?' Yes! Yes we are. God requires an answer of each of us. We are social creatures We need each other for Fulness of living. We will need to develop more programs that bring real benefits to people living witH HIV

My word of encouragement for PLHIV/AIDS is simple: Keep the faith. HIV is no longer a death sentence. Serious progress has been made and you can access a good life right here, right now. Your Life is precious! Dont throw it away! Do NOT let pride or shame rob you of health and family, joy and accomplishments. Still dream... Most things are still possible if you believe and persevere.

Do the right things for yourself. There is now legal recourse to some forms of discrimination. Fight your battle for your life and find support for your cause along the way. Life is Precious.... DON'T give up! Fight Fight Fight!

With discipline and determination, the way things are going, you might actually outlive some of your detractors.

Here I want to quote and close with Minister of State in the Ministry of Health and Wellness, Juliet Cuthbert-Flynn,

“Whether as funding partners, technical informants for policy design and programme implementation, or as medical workers serving people living with HIV and AIDS at the community level, we need to have all hands on deck." the Observer November 20

I endorse All hands on Deck! The world can and must do better regarding the AIDS pandemic. We must remove the strictures and structures that maintain stigma and discrimination in all its forms.

I endorse all hands on deck and hope to see church and state join together to do the right thing for signicant numbers of our citzens who need our help

I endorse All hands on deck to design and build reintegration protocols and mechanisms for those on the margins right now. they dont need to be there!

I endorse all hands on deck if these hands are tender loving hands, desiring to nurture and to care for those in need. We have had enough of the finger pointing sleight of hand deception > I'm just saying:

I endorse all hands on deck in the response from governments, NGOs and Communities acting globally and locally. It is my hope that solidarity will facilitate the crafting of an accelerated response with a view to end Living with HIV/AIDS soon.

#world aids day #world aids day 2020 #plhiv/aids #plhiv

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hazeofhearts · 5 years

Text

Dodging A Bullet (Alexei x reader)

Warning: Swearing, sexual themes, Alexei cuteness

Italic words are Russian.

1973

You stood on your doorstep, face downcast and tears welling in your eyes. Out of all the goodbyes you’d delivered, this was the hardest. The one for Alexei.

Russia was a dangerous country for your family, as your father was a very prominent figure in politics. He could not walk down the street without someone trying to murder him or any of his family members.

So, he had received relief in the United States witness protection program. Your family’s new identities existed and were ready to go. All you had to do was safely leave the country without anyone finding you.

You ran a hand through Alexei’s curly hair, wild and unruly as it was. You’d called him early this morning and it appeared he’d jumped right out of bed, not even bothering to brush his hair. Alexei covered your hand with his where it was on his head, his eyes wide and sad.

“I wish I could take you with me,” you said, blinking as a lock of hair was whipped by the wind from under your fur hat.

“I wish I could come with you. I’d want nothing more,” Alexei whispered.

“I want to give you my new address but Papa says I can’t. That defeats the whole purpose of relocating and being safe.”

Alexei let a tear slide down his face and you started bawling. You buried your head in his chest and he held you tight.

“My brave boy, how will I survive without you! I will never make it a year without seeing your face.”

“No, no, my love. You must go on. I will find you. I promise.”

You hugged Alexei close to you, squeezing as hard as possible.

“Indiana,” you whispered in his ear before you separated from him.

He looked ready to question you but before he could, you pressed your lips to his passionately. He wrapped his arms securely around your waist, picking you up off the ground just a little bit.

Your mother called your name and you separated from Alexei, making careful eye contact with him.

“Indiana,” he muttered back and you nodded.

You stepped away from him, your hand still holding his. Your mother called your name again. You pulled away with one final tug, your hand falling to your side.

“I love you,” you said quietly so your parents couldn’t hear. You were sixteen and in their eyes, there was no such thing as love for someone so young.

“I love you,” Alexei responded, mourning clear in his voice.

You moved toward the car and slid in, turning around to watch Alexei get farther and farther away until he was only a dot on the horizon.

12 years later

You groaned at the sound of your alarm, smacking it off your bedside table. The same dream about Alexei again. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and sat up.

There, on your dresser across from your bed, was a framed picture of the same boy that plagued your dreams. It was taken on your one year anniversary, one month before you had to move.

Your eyes were on the camera while Alexei’s eyes were on you. You both were smiling and hugging each other underneath a black umbrella. The sincere love in Alexei’s eyes made you cry almost every day because you’d never been able to move on. You’d never been able to find someone who looked at you like that and you were sure you never would.

You showered and ate a quick breakfast before dressing in your uniform and heading off to work.

You had been in the town of Hawkins long enough that most people had forgotten that you’d moved to town with your family instead of being born there. Therefore, it was quite easy to get a job with the police when you’d wanted one after graduating from college. You were out in the field a lot, protecting others that couldn’t protect themselves and it was your favorite part of the day.

You had just returned home for lunch when a knock came at the door. You opened it to reveal your boss, Chief Jim Hopper, Joyce Byers and someone else you couldn’t see, proven by the tufts of hair peaking out.

“Hey there, Y/N. Can we come in?”

“Uh, sure, Chief. Who’s that?”

“Some Russian we found while investigating. Sorry we didn’t take you with us. Once we got the locations of places, we just sort of went.”

“It’s totally fine! Come on in.”

You turned and trailed into your home, letting them follow behind you. You heard a small scuffle but thought nothing of it. Going into your kitchen, you poured some peanuts into a bowl, poured four drinks and placed them all on a tray to carry out to your guests.

“Sorry I don’t have a lot on hand. I made due with what I could.”

You looked up at the three people in your living room as you set down the tray. Joyce looked frazzled as all hell, Hopper looked about ready to pass out and-

“Lyosha?!”

Alexei looked up startled before an extreme range of emotions crossed his face. Confused, surprised and overjoyed were just a few. He stood and ran as best he could in handcuffs, stopping in front of you.

“Alexei, it must be too good to be true. Is it really you, my love,” you said, tears flowing down your cheeks. Alexei raised his handcuffed hands and caressed your cheek.

“It’s me! It’s me. I can prove it. Must I prove it?”

“No, no. You don’t need to prove anything. I can tell it’s you. Your hair hasn’t changed,” you responded with a wet giggle. Alexei leaned forward and kissed your tear stained cheeks and held your hands.

“Does anybody want to tell me what the hell is going on,” Hopper queried from your couch.

You shy away from Alexei, suddenly embarrassed about your reunion. You guide him back to the couch and go off to get the only remaining picture you have of your past.

******

Half an hour later, Joyce is rubbing your back as you conclude your story. Hopper is sitting in front of you, rubbing his beard with his hand, your picture in the other. He’s staring at you intently. Alexei is as well and you can’t look at it for more than five seconds without becoming flustered.

“Witness Protection Program?”

“Yes. I’m technically not supposed to tell you and I have no way of making you believe me but, it’s the truth.”

Hopper set down your government forged birth certificate and other legal documents. He stood and paced around the living room for a second. Alexei stretched across your coffee table and grasped your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“Don’t worry my love. Everything will be alright.”

“You didn’t even understand anything I said,” you snarked back, a grin creeping over your face.

“And I’m just supposed to believe that this is an accident?”

Hopper gestures between you and Alexei.

“Chief, if I had been a spy at sixteen, I’m sure you’d have been able to tell. You were here when I moved into town!”

Hopper sighed and stared at you again. You tried to look as sincere as possible but you didn’t know how as you really were telling the truth.

“I need a minute.”

Hopper stepped out of the living room and you could hear him leave through the front door. Joyce followed after a moments pause, motioning for the two of you to stay. Once she left the room, you turned to Alexei.

“How long have you been here?”

“A year,” Alexei said, a twinge of shame in his voice .

“A year?! How could you have been here a year and never tried to find me?”

“It wasn’t that simple, my love, I swear to you. I was being kept under heavy surveillance. I was trusted with Soviet tech and was building weapons. If I had come here of my own choice, I would have searched high and low for you.”

You tapped your fingers against your knee before standing and going to the phone. Alexei made panicked noises behind you but you ignored him.

“Hi Flo! Yeah, I just had some family issues come up, I won’t be able to return to the station for the rest of the day. Thanks so much. I’ll definitely talk to Hopper.”

You hung up the phone and sat down next to Alexei. You took his hand in yours and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. His cheeks flushed quickly as he looked away nervously.

“Why are your lips red, Lyosha?”

“I had a cherry... Slurpee! It was really good. I want another one.”

You giggled and pressed your nose to his cheek, reveling in his warmth and the familiar contours of his body.

“If we make it out of whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into, I’ll buy you all the cherry Slurpees you want.”

Alexei hummed happily and pulled your closer to him. You were almost on his lap when Joyce and Hopper came back into the room.

“Alright, alright. Break it up, you two. Y/N, can we use your car?”

“My car,” you questioned, standing up.

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“Well, we took the car we used to get here. And I’m sure the people who are tailing us will know what it looks like.”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted. “You have people tailing you and you led them to my house?!”

“Yes, I did. But if we ditch our car and take yours, they’ll be confused.”

“I’m sure that the people tailing you will remember your face.”

“Yeah they’ll also remember your little boyfriend so just lend us the damn car so we can go!”

Hopper’s outburst didn’t startle you but his mention of Alexei did. Your blood turned to ice. You turned to Alexei.

“What on earth have you been doing?”

Alexei kept silent.

“We don’t have time to talk. We need to go,” Joyce said gently, pulling you to the door.

“Wait, hold on.”

You rushed to your bedroom, shucking off your work khakis and button up shirt, trading them for jeans and a soft, white t-shirt tucked into them. You emerged again with your hair pulled away from your face and didn’t spare anyone a glance as you strode out the front door, tucking your gun in your waistband.

You heard Hopper shuffle Alexei along. You tossed your keys to him as you climbed into the back next to Alexei.

“No funny business back there, you two.”

“Jesus, Hopper,” Joyce muttered.

You linked your hand with Alexei’s on his lap. He looked to you with those same sad puppy dog eyes.

“They won’t hurt you, Lyosha. I promise.”

Alexei nodded slowly, his immense trust making your chest warm.

******

You had arrived at your destination and Alexei had been ripped from the back seat. You clambered after him and your boss as Hopper dragged him to the front door of a shady ass looking building.

“Hop, not that I don’t trust you, but where the fuck are we?”

He shushes you and pressed the buzzer.

A crackling voice comes over the intercom, telling you to state your full name. Hopper does for all of you in an exasperated tone you’re not used to. You’ve truly never heard him more irritated.

A dispute over Alexei’s last name almost made you speak up if a balding man wielding a shotgun didn’t suddenly open the door. You drew your gun immediately, holding it up to defend yourself.

“Get that out of my face, you bald American pig.”

“Lyosha!”

“I may be bald, but you’re the one in handcuffs, Soviet scum.”

You gulped.

“Hi, Jim,” the man said almost sheepishly.

You were led slowly into the man’s house, putting away your gun after Hopper nudged it. Suddenly you heard a whirring as the man scanned Alexei with a weird sort of metal detector.

Once again, you made a move to help when Hopper and then Joyce became involved. You kept silent, rubbing circles into Alexei’s back. The man who you now knew as Murray grabbed your arm as you walked past.

“Don’t think I’ve let my guard down with you. I heard you talk to him like that.”

“Hopper can explain it to you,” you said coldly, tugging your arm out of the man’s reach.

You sat next to Alexei on the couch and he brushed your shoulder with his hand. You smiled at him and laced your fingers with his.

Murray sat down on his chair and clasped his hands together.

“So, where do we begin?”

******

You jerked awake when someone nudged you.

“We’re going somewhere,” Alexei said to you. He helped you up with his now free hands. You separated from him soon after, as you remembered his difficultly to work with your team and his near escape. You walked to the car and as soon as you were in, Hopper sped off.

It wasn’t long before you stopped at the fair ground. Hopper and Joyce stepped out of the car and you hesitated.

“L/N, come on. You’re coming with us,” Hopper said.

You turned to Alexei and Murray, your heart rate spiking at the thought of leaving them alone. Even if you were upset with him, you just couldn’t leave Alexei.

“Don’t worry about them, come with us. We need another cop.”

You clasped Alexei’s hands in yours and looked him in the eye.

“Stay safe, Lyosha. I’ll come back soon. I love you.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips and got out of the car, keeping your eyes down and pace fast. Hopper and Joyce followed you.

“So,” Murray said. “You really do know each other.”

“Yes. She’s the love of my life.”

Hopper had put you on perimeter duty and it was as boring as it sounded, even as tense as you were. You didn’t know who you were supposed to be looking for. You knew he was big and he looked like the Terminator but that was it.

You hear a lot of cheering and a grown man’s laugh and you turned around to see Alexei at a dart balloon booth. You rushed to him quickly as he threw his last dart.

The man at the booth handed Alexei his Woody Woodpecker stuffed animal as you reached him.

“What are you doing, Alexei? You should be at the car!”

“I wanted to experience America! Murray is letting me experience American life to the fullest!”

The was a childish glimmer in his eyes and a cute pout on his lips.

“You still need to be careful, my brave boy,” you said, your eyes softening.

He nodded and looked over your shoulder.

“Ah, Murray!”

Alexei grabbed your hand and pulled you towards Murray where he was at a hot dog on a stick stand. Alexei stopped dead, pulling you back with him.

“Lyosha?”

“It’s him.”

You whipped your head around to see the Terminator. A real live Terminator in front of you. He pulled out a silencer gun and was loping towards you.

You turned and started running immediately, pulling Alexei behind you. You could hear him stumbling every once in a while and cursing. You were swerving between game booths and food stands, the sights and smells around you not doing their job of masking your panic.

You made it to a seclusion of trees at the edge of the fair and turned back to see the man nowhere in sight. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t close behind you though.

You found a tree with limbs close to the ground and motioned for Alexei to climb up first. He handed you his Woody Woodpecker and you pressed it to your face, the smell of dust and fried food permeating the fuzzy fabric. You passed the stuffed animal up and hoisted yourself into the tree onto a different branch.

“This way,” you whispered, motioning for Alexei to follow you as you walked across connecting branches.

“Fucking shit. How are you doing that?”

You giggled.

“Magic.”

You stopped once you were far enough away from your initial climb spot to survey the fair ground. There you tried your best to look for the Terminator. Somehow you found him, way in the distance, stepping into the fun house.

“Now’s our chance! Let’s run for it!”

You tried your best not to hurt yourself as you climbed down. Alexei dropped his Woody Woodpecker into your arms and then climbed down himself. You ran together for your car where Murray was waiting.

“Jesus Christ, you guys scared me!”

“Oh, I’m sorry! It’s not like we were running from a Russian assassin or anything,” you yelled at him as you threw yourself into the drivers seat. Alexei and Murray piled into the back seat and you skidded off to the fun house where you knew Hopper and Joyce would be.

You stopped just outside of the employee exit and bounced your leg anxiously. They indeed came out quickly and hopped in.

“How did you know we’d be here?”

“Saw the Terminator,” you said breathlessly as you revved your engine and sped to Starcourt mall.

******

You sat in the back of an ambulance, keeping gentle conversation with Will Byers until his mom found him. Alexei was loitering on your other side, holding his stuffed animal tightly and refusing to speak to anyone.

Will saw his mom and pushed off from the ambulance, leaving you and Alexei alone.

“So,” you began.

“So?”

“So, now that you’re free and everyone else has been arrested, what are you going to do,” you asked.

“Stay by your side, if you’ll let me,” Alexei responded.

You looked to Alexei, your cheeks warm.

“That sounds like a good idea to me. But I don’t think we should stay here in Indiana.”

“Well, what did you have in mind, my love?”

One year later

You gasped as Alexei bit the sensitive spot on your neck and licked it, his lips smiling on your skin. Your hands were tangled in his mussed up hair and pulled every so often.

You ground your hips into his, smirking at his choked breath. You were sitting in his lap, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his. Your shirts had been tossed elsewhere in your apartment and you could tell that your pants were going to come next.

Alexei suddenly stood and hoisted you up onto his waist, your legs wrapping around him. He buried his face in your chest as he traipsed through your apartment, the California night air cooling your skin.

You were dropped on the bed and you giggled as Alexei pulled your pants off and let them drop to the floor. He climbed up on the bed and hovered over you. His goofy smile and fogged up glasses turning your heart to mush.

You took off his glasses, placing them on your nightstand. Alexei held your left hand up, kissing the diamond there on your finger. You brushed his hair behind his ear with the same hand.

“I love you, Alexei.”

“I love you too.”

Alexei descended on you once more, trailing kisses down your body. You squirmed as he moved further down your body, closer to the spot you wanted him to touch more than anything. His nose brushed the band of your underwear and he reached up and grabbed it with his teeth, snapping it back to your skin and making you flinch.

“Naughty,” you breathed out.

Alexei only chuckled, his breath fanning over your thighs.

A boom outside your window did not deter Alexei as he held you under him, making you moan and arch your body to his. Your hands were scrabbling for purchase on his toned back as he held your close to him. He moved your legs over his shoulders, a high pitched moan coming from your mouth as a result.

Alexei nipped your breast with his teeth, his tongue flicking out of his mouth to sooth the sore spot. He moved his head into the crook of your neck as his hands splayed across your lower back.

“Alexei,” you moaned.

Alexei moved your legs again and sat up so you were in the same position as on the couch, your legs spread and him between them.

He pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, his breaths becoming more ragged in your mouth. You tugged on his hair again and again as you swiveled your hips.

A loud firework shot off the same time as your synchronized release, shaking the walls as you had done to the bed frame.

Alexei moved to lay on his side, still inside you, and he wrapped his arms around your body.

“Happy Fourth of July, Lyosha.”

Taglist:

@gallymagines @morsescherryslurpeestand (I hope you don’t mind I tagged you 😅)

#hope cherrystand doesnt mind I tagged them #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things alexei #alexei smirnoff #alexei smirnoff x reader #alexei smirnoff x you

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maple-writes · 4 years

Text

WHG 13: Post Games 2

tagging @concealeddarkness13 @ratracechronicler @onmywaytobe and @nightskywriter

(Takes place towards beginning of pre-heist prep week)

Indigo leaned back in her office chair, scanning over the documents on her computer screen. Research, reports, contracts… All things that she made a note to go over in detail later, after her meeting was over. She glanced down at her watch. He would probably be here soon. Maybe she should go wait for him out in the lobby, though on the other hand, he knew where her office was. Technically this lab was owned by the capitol anyway so he could come and go as he pleased. Indigo tapped against the armrest of her chair, letting her jaw set in frustration. How good would it feel to wait for him here, to make him seem like he wasn’t even a priority?

But she sighed, stood, and made her way down the hallway. As nice at it would be to try and knock Snow down a level, she couldn’t have him suspecting her little grudge.

He wasn’t there yet when Indigo stepped into the lobby, typical. Behind the front desk, the receptionist popped her head up with a polite smile. She was new, only worked there for a few months since she her predecessor mysteriously disappeared. It was a shame; he’d been good enough at his job. Rumor had it he’d gotten a little too comfortable criticizing Snow in circles which he should have just kept his mouth shut. Not that his replacement was bad, but Indigo wasn’t really sure they even needed a receptionist most of the time.

The front door opened and in stepped one of President Snow’s advisors. Indigo smiled as she greeted him and led him down the hall towards her office, pushing down her resentment. Snow said he would be meeting with her, not his advisor. Sure, maybe something had come up, and it wasn’t like she hadn’t met with this advisor countless times for their less than legal agreements, but still. How dare he.

He took a seat across from her desk as she closed the door behind them. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve been in here,” He said. “Hasn’t changed a bit though.”

Indigo sat across from him, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “If it works, why change it, right?”

“Still,” He looked up over the desk, meeting Indigo’s eyes in an inquisitive stare. “Why the sudden change of heart? What’s wrong with the apartment? It would have been nice to have this conversation over some wine like usual.”

Right. She usually used it for these casual, off-the-record chats, but now… Well she’d had to move it to her office last minute due to the whole conspiracy to commit treason. Of course he would have found it suspicious, why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Truthfully,” Indigo let her head fall to the side, pressing her hand against the side of her face. She sighed. “I have a rat problem.”

“Rats?”

She nodded. “They’re huge and they eat everything they can get their thieving little hands on.” And responded to questions with far more snark than Indigo would have liked for an uninvited guest. “If you happen to know a good exterminator, let me know because I don’t know when I’m going to have the chance to deal with it myself.”

The advisor laughed. “Good luck with that.”

“Thank you.” Indigo let her hand drop and sat up straight again. “So, what brings you here?”

The joking atmosphere vanished and the advisor leaned forward. “Have you heard what’s been going on with the games?”

Indigo paused before answering. She was fairly certain he was referring to the band of rebels she’d picked up, but there was a chance he was talking about something else. “What part of the games are we talking about?”

“The tributes.” He answered. “One in particular.”

Oh, the one they’d picked up in the arena. “Skylar Tresting?” When he nodded, she continued. “I’ve heard bits and pieces, and I saw what they did at Robin’s interview.”

“Well, Snow isn’t happy with what they’ve done.” The advisor said, as if that wasn’t crystal clear or their probable intention. “And given how rebellious these games have been, I’m sure you understand the need reign in control again.”

Indigo nodded along, watching carefully. She wished he would just spit out what Snow wanted from her. He never came, or sent someone to talk to her, unless he wanted something.

“He’s planning on using them to do it, but I’m sure that you’re aware that they’re… A challenge to control.”

If they could remote hack into a capitol video feed, than a ‘challenge to control’ was an understatement.

“So, where do I come in?”

The advisor smiled, manufactured of course. “Snow’s planning on holding a gala as a show of power, and to make some important announcements about the future of the games, and will be having Skylar attend. They’ve been outfitted with, for lack of a better term, a remote shock collar, but we don’t want to underestimate them again.” He leaned forward. “So he was hoping you’d be able to help.”

Did she look like a peacekeeper? “How so?”

“Well, it’ll have to be something effective, yet not something that would look too out of place.” He went on. “It’s supposed to look like nothing is wrong after all.”

If he was coming to her, he was probably expecting a mutt. “Considering mutts aren’t usually at parties, I’m not sure how inconspicuous I can be.” She thought a moment. “Although…”

She opened a drawer on her desk, took out the tablet inside and scanned the reference files for the creatures she had actively on hand. Something with sharp spines, huge teeth, obvious aggression or venom were probably out of the question, which ruled out a good chunk. Something noisy would draw too much attention, and something too big would probably take up too much space. She opened one of the files and scanned through the notes. With a few tweaks, there was one that might just work.

“It’s a prototype, but it might be useful for you.” She slid the tablet towards him.

Displayed on the screen was a creature that looked like a wolfhound, save for overlapping viper’s scales on the lower legs and muzzle, and the pit organs along it’s upper lip. It wouldn’t be fun if they sent it after Skylar, and might make their little plan of freeing them a bit harder, but unless something went wrong it’s attack strategy wasn’t lethal. Usually.

“It’s being developed primarily for catching, subduing, and retrieving.” She smiled, “It’s fast, agile, powerful, and has modified canines like a viper’s fangs that retract backwards out of the way when not in use, but delivers a fast-acting venom that paralyzes it’s victims so they can be dragged back to it’s handler more easily.” She pointed at the face. “And the pit organs allow it to seek out it’s target via heat if sight and hearing are compromised.” She leaned back again, tapping a finger against the side of her head as she paused. “Usually I’d avoid anything with any kind of venom for this kind of situation, but the most recent group we’ve raised are actually quite friendly most of the time.”

The advisor gave her a look. “Most of the time?”

“Besides when they’re attacking, yes.” She nodded towards the tablet. “I’ve been experimenting more with the inclusion of mechanics and little devices to better control neurological function. If Skylar still has their transmitter from the games, I can implant a receiver, program it to the right signal, and the dog will only see them as their target. It can be remotely activated as well, so at the push of a button it’ll go from docile to targeted attack in an instant.”

The advisor looked over the profile. He seemed to be considering it, evaluating it, but Indigo knew he didn’t really have a clue what he was looking at. As good as he was as Snow’s advisor, he didn’t know a whole lot about genetic engineering. But she didn’t mind the pause. She’d have to find a way around that dog herself if there was any chance of messing with Snow at his own party. With the receiver tuned to Skylar’s tracker, there wouldn’t be any deterring the dog, and even if they could kill it, moving a paralyzed body amid amped up security would be no easy feat. As much as it wasn’t her problem if they succeeded or failed, it would feel like a lot better of a screw you if their plan worked. It would be a bit too obvious if they just cut Skylar’s tracker out right then and there.

Although, the receiver was capable of being tuned to different signals…

“If that’s the best you’ve got, I suppose it’ll do.”

Indigo barely hid her distaste. The best she could do? It was exactly the kind of thing he was looking for! “Do you want it or not?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Alright then, I’ll have one tuned up and ready to go in a few days.” She leaned forward to take the tablet back. “On one condition.”

The advisor looked up, and he didn’t look particularly happy.

But Indigo smiled sweetly, resting her hands on her lap. “I want an invitation from Snow, and I want to be seated at the same table as him, the head gamemaker and anyone else of any importance.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but must have thought better of it when he sighed and stood. “Fine.” He turned towards the door. “I’ll be back for the dog in four days. It better be good.”

Indigo watched as he left, then leaned back. It was a risk, what she was planning to do, but oh the look on Snow’s face as the dog came at him would be priceless. The only snag would be switching the receiver to the alternate signal. Oh well. That was going to be a problem for the rest of them.

#writeblr hunger games #writeblr hunger games 13 #indigo carmine #this file on my computer is named i have a rat problem #because it may or may not be the line i built the whole scene around lol

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