#chapter seventeen

[ranmacapss]

[Ranma ½] ✥ Chapter 17, Kodachi, The Black Rose

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part seventeen: dream a little dream of me

word count: 1.6k

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

sixteen | seventeen | eighteen

The second date should’ve felt more awkward. It didn’t.

Alex had picked a science museum of all places—not exactly romantic on paper, but the look on his face when he pointed out the replica Mars rover was too earnest to judge. He had this habit where his whole face would light up like a lightbulb the moment before he got excited about something, and Y/N had already learned to clock it like a warning siren.

“So, technically,” he was saying, hands jammed in his jacket pockets as they strolled past a massive display on deep-sea robotics, “the algorithms used for this submersible’s sensor mapping were adapted from AI software developed for self-driving cars.”

“Technically,” she echoed, teasing, “you should probably just work here.”

He looked sideways at her with a crooked grin. “I applied when I was sixteen. They didn’t take me.”

“They’re clearly still recovering from that mistake.”

He tried to play it off cool, but she caught the slight flush of his ears.

She liked him more than she expected to. Not in the way you decide to like someone—more like how you step outside one day and realize the air smells like rain and suddenly, you’re soft and open and all the windows are down. He was like that: unexpected and quiet and warm around the edges.

They made their way through the rest of the exhibits in no particular order, weaving between dwindling crowds of families and groups of students on field trips, neither of them in a hurry. He let her take her time at the forensic anthropology section, where she ran her fingers along the raised edges of a reconstructed skull, and she let him lose himself in the physics wing, where he explained, with ridiculous enthusiasm, why the double pendulum was so cool. It was there that the nickname Professor Albon was born.

At some point, he took her hand. It wasn’t a big deal. He just did it naturally, without hesitation, like it had already been a habit, and for a moment, that simple touch made her feel warm all over.

They ended the night sitting cross-legged on the floor of the museum café, long after it closed, surrounded by vending machine snacks and a half-solved crossword puzzle she’d found in her bag. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a dim glow over the abandoned chairs and tables, but neither of them seemed eager to move. They laughed about everything and nothing, the kind of laughing that came from being tired but happy, the kind that made her lean into his shoulder without thinking.

"Okay," Alex said, tapping the eraser end of his pencil against the page. "Eight-letter word for ‘illuminates or clarifies’?"

As she took a moment to think it over, Alex watched in his periphery as she counted off the letters of her word on her fingers. "’Explains’ fits," she mused, popping a purple skittle into her mouth.

"Hmm." He scribbled it in. "Not bad. Maybe I should keep you around."

"Yeah, yeah," she nudged his knee with hers, grinning. "You just like me for my crossword skills."

"Wrong. I like you for your crossword skills and your terrible puns."

“My puns are great, thank you very much.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

He liked her brain. She liked how funny he was. They made a good pair—two academically overworked people who laughed at obscure engineering memes and played footsie under café tables without meaning to. When they said goodbye that night, he kissed her like he was trying not to smile through it. Like maybe this could really be something.

It felt easy.

And in the days that followed, it stayed easy. He texted her every night.

alex: Made the Mars rover jealous. Can’t stop thinking about you.

Y/N: did you just say that unironically. because I might have to stop seeing you on principle.

alex: Too late, I’ve already added you to my will. You get the Lego Technic collection.

Y/N: wait nvm i’m back in

They made time. Even when they both shouldn’t have.

He’d bring her coffee before her class–something with cinnamon and oat milk in it. He’d scrawl dumb physics jokes on the lid just to make her roll her eyes. She started keeping his schedule in her head without meaning to. She knew which nights he had his advanced systems class and which ones he spent buried in the lab. He’d text her when his simulations crashed at 3AM. She’d send him memes about courtroom drama tropes in return.

He had an engineer’s sense of humor—dry, sneaky, often deeply specific. It took a while to catch on, but once she did, it felt like discovering hidden easter eggs in his sentences.

“You know,” he’d murmur as they lay back in the grass near campus, watching clouds roll over like they weren’t chilly out here in the autumn breeze, “you statistically reduce your lifespan by two minutes every time you eat instant ramen.”

“Cool. So I’ll be dying a noble, sodium-rich death then.”

He turned his head toward her, smiling with closed eyes. “Hmm, a martyr.”

“A hero.”

“Buried with your books and MSG packets.”

She shoved his shoulder. He let her.

On Thursdays, she’d sit outside his lab, cross-legged on the cold tile floor with flashcards in her lap, quizzing him on his presentation slides about failure analysis and impact resistance.

“Okay, explain to me like I’m five—what is a stress-strain curve and why should I care?”

“Because,” he’d say, crouching in front of her with a smirk, “it tells you how close something is to breaking.”

“And that’s relevant to your research…?”

He gave her a confused look, until it turned sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m… not entirely sure about that bit, actually.”

She started looking forward to the moments in between—the walks across campus, the shared bag of chips while sitting on the hood of her car, the ridiculous voice memos he sent when he was overtired and delirious.

They kissed in stairwells and library corners and once,perhaps ill-advisedly, on a park bench in the middle of a thunderstorm. The rain had soaked through their clothes, cold and unrelenting, but he had just looked at her and said, "I think we should be stupid about this," right before he leaned in. It was impulsive and dramatic and made her laugh until she had to cover her mouth, their faces inches apart. Her hair was soaked, his glasses fogged up, and they almost dropped his backpack in a puddle, but the moment stuck—sharp and golden and untouchable.

They talked about future dates like there’d be dozens of them—bookstores they wanted to browse together, a tiny Thai place he swore by, a stargazing night he promised would be “scientifically optimized for romance” depending on the cloud cover. She rolled her eyes at that one, but her heart still fluttered.

They were still in the sweet spot—the space between maybe and more, where everything felt bright and possible. 

It wasn’t perfect – but it was promising.

The third date was dinner—some hole-in-the-wall Thai place with flickering neon signage and laminated menus stained with old curry thumbprints. He’d gotten lost on the way and sent a flurry of frantic texts.

alex :) : I passed the restaurant. Twice. There’s a cat staring at me through a laundromat window. I think it’s judging me.

Y/N: be strong. you can beat the cat.

alex :) : Negative, Sargeant. It’s very confident.

He’d arrived breathless, slightly damp from a drizzle, and holding a single packet of Skittles “for your efforts,” he’d said solemnly. She called him an idiot. He looked delighted.

That night, they talked about things that didn’t matter—TV shows neither of them had finished, foods they pretended to like for the aesthetic, the sheer horror of Alex’s undergraduate group project from hell (“We had a guy who thought duct tape was a structural solution”). 

And then, slowly, they talked about the things that did matter.

Like how she used to want to be a journalist when she was little, because she thought it meant you got to ask as many questions as you wanted and never had to apologize.

Or how he still wasn’t sure what kind of engineer he wanted to be—just that he wanted to make things that didn’t break when people needed them most.

“You know,” he said, nudging his glass in slow circles across the table, “you’re not what I expected.”

Y/N looked up. “Is that a good thing or, like, a 'you’re secretly a serial killer' kind of a thing?”

He smiled. “It’s a good thing. Really, really good.”

By the fourth week, they had a rhythm. It wasn’t just dates anymore—it was Hey, want to walk home together? and I saved you the last chocolate chip muffin, but only because I like you more than I like muffins. But barely.

It was him reaching for her hand without thinking, her resting her head against his shoulder on the bus when she was too tired to hold it up.

It was a shared Spotify playlist for when studying is ur 13th reason.

It was early Saturday morning sun filtering into her apartment while they quietly read their own books, his socked foot nudging hers on the side of the couch almost every ten minutes.

It was good.

But between the sleepy smiles and the shared muffins and the texts that kept getting longer instead of shorter, the truth was that they both had dreams. Big ones. All-consuming ones.

And no matter how much you wanted something—or someone—there were only so many hours in the day.

a/n: one of my more favorite chapters! an unfortunate lack of lando though :/ what did you think of it?

[redux-iterum]

Red Sun Rising: Chapter Seventeen

(AO3 counterpart here.)

“Are you alright?”

It took a few heartbeats for the question to enter Firestar’s ear and reach his mind. He blinked, shook his head, and looked to his right, where Dustpelt was watching him with concern.

“Yeah,” Firestar lied.

Dustpelt gave him a very dry, very unimpressed look.

Firestar amended his answer. “I’m worried, that’s all.”

His deputy’s face softened. “About the Aulmir cats still?”

“Well, yes, but…” Firestar’s eyes drifted to the sky, contemplating. “I’m worried about RiverClan, too. Not just because they’re stuck at Sunningrocks.” His ears went back sheepishly. “I, uh, may have upset Leopardstar the last time I talked to her. On purpose.”

Dustpelt’s eyes widened with only a slight tint of sarcasm. “You? Upsetting people on purpose?”

Fireheart sighed. “It was a moment of weakness. I was defending Greystripe.”

Understanding immediately lit up Dustpelt’s eyes, but he said nothing. He simply looked forward again, his tail standing straight out.

The two didn’t speak again until the river’s song went from a whisper in their ears to a hiss, and the flat stones of Sunningrocks were visible. Dustpelt called out wordlessly, silencing what faint conversation they could hear from here. By the time they reached the border of the forest, every eye in RiverClan was on them.

“Good evening, everyone!” Firestar said cheerfully, mindful of the glare Leopardstar was giving him. “We have some news we think you’d like to hear.”

“A graceful night to you,” Lavenderflower said, walking up to them with her Clanmates, her wounded paw scabbed over. “I don’t suppose you’ve killed Scourge yet, have you?”

“Not quite.” Firestar bowed his head respectfully to her.

Leoaprdstar, lagging a little behind her Clan, narrowed her eyes. “Then what?”

Dustpelt straightened up even higher than his usual, somehow. “Firestar has arranged to gather allies in the Aulmir to help us in this fight.”

The air lit up with remarks of surprise and questions both eager and wary. Leopardstar said nothing, though the cat beside her, Mistfoot, stepped forward with her somewhat small ears perked.

“Now how did our dearest kittypet leader manage that?” she asked, tilting her head.

“It’s a little bit of a story,” Firestar said.

Mistfoot glanced at a still-silent Leopardstar, then jerked her chin sideways. “Here, we can chat privately.” Louder, she added, “Back to your lounging, everyone!”

Obediently, the Clan slowly scattered, many of them glancing back at Firestar and Dustpelt with intrigue. Firestar caught sight of Mintpaw and Stormpaw watching the forest hopefully, like they were waiting for Greystripe to step into the open and run to greet them. His heart aching for them, Firestar quietly followed Mistfoot and Leopardstar up the stretch of flat land until they were out of hearing range of the Clan.

“Are you RiverClan’s new deputy?” Dustpelt asked Mistfoot.

She nodded. “Took up my brother’s mantle. Stars know I wish he could be here, but I can’t say I mind the ego trip of getting to order others around.”

Firestar twitched his whiskers. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. Now—”  Mistfoot stopped, turned and sat down, Leopardstar mirroring her with much less enthusiasm. “What’s this about allies in the Aulmir?”

Dustpelt gave Firestar a polite, inviting gesture with his paw. Firestar sat down and took a breath.

“Well…” he began. “It started with getting Bilberry home.”

Through his recounting of the events, he watched Leopardstar’s face as subtly as he could. The pretty golden-and-brown features started out deeply wrinkled in anger and disgust, but slowly the creases smoothed out as he told them about the pain and death he’d witnessed (leaving out the “meals” - he didn’t expect that would win them over). Mistfoot shut her eyes tight when they got to the dead kit being nosed by its mother, her face a hard grimace of grief. Leopardstar growled under her breath at the execution, but otherwise they both stayed silent throughout the story.

“…So they’ll be meeting us in the neutral grounds the night before the waking night,” Firestar concluded. “I don’t know how many cats we’ll get, but if the size of the Aulmir is any indication, we may have plenty to help us scare the Blood off.”

“I don’t want to scare them off,” Leopardstar growled. “I want them dead.”

“Many do,” Mistfoot said quietly. “My only concern is what these loners will want in exchange for this.”

Dustpelt nodded. “I doubt they’ll leave freely, if I’m being honest, Firestar. They’ll likely ask for something. Possibly more than we can provide.”

Firestar winced. “I… hadn’t thought of that.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Leopardstar scowled at him. “You think they’ll help us for free, don’t you? Just because you would.”

Firestar ignored her, speaking to Mistfoot. “I think, maybe, we can provide them with prey from the neutral grounds as a show of thanks the night before the fight. There’s one good meal for them. And once the Blood are scattered, their town will possibly be a little emptier, and food will be easier to get. That’s really all they want—a safer life with more to eat.” His chest grew heavy for a moment. “It’s awful, how miserable they are in there. And Scourge is taking advantage of that to grow an army.”

Mistfoot, for her part, sighed sympathetically. “I can’t even imagine living like that. Kits going hungry is more than I can bear.” She turned to Leopardstar. “I think it’s worth a try. This ‘Oracle’ lass sounds star-blessed to me; I don’t doubt that StarClan is doing what they can to help us. Even without them, we’d be fools not to take what we can get.”

Leopardstar’s jaw tightened and she said nothing for a long moment. Firestar stayed quiet and let her think. Dustpelt shifted his front paws a bit when the silence went on longer.

Finally, the calico grit her teeth, bared them, grumbled and loosened her clench. “From what you’ve told me about the Aulmir, we really don’t have much of an option. We need all the assistance we can get to destroy the Blood and take back RiverClan’s territory. I’ll toss a few minnows at some rogues if that’ll get us what we need.”

Firestar unconsciously relaxed. “Then let’s alert Rookstar and Blackstar so we can all talk about our plan for the fight. I can reach Blackstar if you’ll speak with Rookstar.”

To his surprise, Leopardstar didn’t growl when she said, “I can do that. But you’ll have to be the one to explain all of this.”

“No problem.” Firestar stood up. “Let’s not waste any time—we can both reach them before daybreak. Dustpelt, would you mind coming with me?”

Dustpelt hesitated. “Should both of us go out alone?”

Firestar turned to him with a soothing blink. “We’ll be okay. Let’s be quick, alright?”

“Speed of the wind be on you,” Mistfoot said. “Leopardstar, I’ll alert RiverClan and catch up with you.”

Leopardstar nodded curtly and Mistfoot trotted back down towards their Clan. Dustpelt stood and looked at Firestar, who flicked his tail for him to go ahead, which he did, though his eyes darted to Leopardstar apprehensively.

“What are you still doing here?” Leopardstar snapped at Firestar when Dustpelt was a small distance away. “Go talk to Blackstar.”

“Just one thing.” Firestar bowed his head to her. “I want to apologize for what I said to you.”

He lifted his eyes to see Leopardstar flinch, staring at him.

“I mean it,” he said, fully raising his head again. “It was cruel and unnecessary, and I shouldn’t have said it. Silverstream’s death hurt all of us, but I know it hurt you and Crookedstar the worst. Chewing at the wound was the wrong thing for me to do.” He offered a friendly blink. “You’re free to refuse my apology, but I want you to know that I am sorry, and I hope we can at least be cordial from here.”

Despite the circumstances, he almost wanted to chuff at Leopardstar’s face: contorted with bafflement, shock and discomfort. Awkwardly, she said, “Er– it– sure. I hear you.” She paused, opening and closing her mouth. “…Sure.”

“Good to hear.” He padded past her. “Good luck with Rookstar!”

He went a bit slowly, waiting for a response, only picking up his pace when she didn’t say anything. He caught up to Dustpelt, who had stopped a distance away and waited.

“Did that go well?” his deputy whispered as they trotted along Sunningrocks.

Firestar huffed an amused breath. “I hope so.”

---

Firestar and Dustpelt wasted no time, hurrying to find a patrol who greeted them on the border. All of their pelts were crisscrossed with scabbed gashes, their faces cut and ears torn. They rushed to find Blackstar at Firestar’s request—but, curiously, they didn’t head in the direction of their camp, instead going further to the left into some bushes. Blackstar, cut up even more than them, quickly arrived, his face sullen and scowling.

“You look to be doing well, and I thank StarClan for that,” he said, “but the Blood have shoved us further and further into our own territory. We stay in our emergency camp to keep them from finding our most vulnerable members.”

Firestar’s stomach knotted.

The other leaders wasted no time; all four of them were seated in Fourtrees in a blink (Rookstar had been the one to suggest against using the bridge where rogues in RiverClan territory could hear them). Blackstar reported to the other two, Leopardstar’s claws flashing out and Rookstar’s eyes narrowing.

“Firestar has some help for us, at least,” Leopardstar said when the story was over. She cocked her head at the youngest leader in an invitation.

For the second time tonight, Firestar reported nearly every detail he had, grateful that Rookstar and Blackstar both looked disturbed at his descriptions of the suffering and grief of the Aulmir. No one spoke until Firestar finished and bobbed his head in conclusion.

“I don’t know if we should trust Brick,” Rookstar said at last. “He could betray us.”

“Yet I’d rather some hope than none at all,” Blackstar replied.

“Brick took a big risk to bring me into his territory,” Firestar agreed. “If he wanted me killed, he could’ve done it then.”

Blackstar nodded. “I doubt there is an advantage in showing such an important Clan cat so much of the Aulmir, and taking him to a cat that dreams of us to gather allies.”

“Hm.” Rookstar’s eyes drifted downwards thoughtfully.

“I’ll take what we can get if we can kill those rogues and get our peace back.” Leopardstar’s short tail whipped back and forth twice. “They’ll never come near us again, if we have cats on the inside.”

Firestar’s knotted gut went cold. “We don’t really have to kill all of them, do we? Do we even need to kill even one of them?”

Blackstar gave him a deadpan look.

Rookstar spoke calmly. “We have to send a message to them that we’ll do what we must to defend our home. If that involves killing a few cats, so be it.”

“Scourge especially,” Leopardstar growled.

“Well—” Firestar fidgeted nervously. “Can we at least keep the deaths minimal? I mean, objectively, if we have to, we can keep it to Scourge and his higher-ups, and everyone else—”

He was silenced by the unusually kind look Rookstar was giving him.

“Respectfully,” the eldest leader said, “I understand your hesitation. But rogues are not Clan cats. They have no code to tell them not to kill. You saw for yourself how they act.”

“Out of desperation, yes—”

“And they’re desperate now.” Rookstar’s long tail curled around his paws. “Scourge has likely told them to kill us. If we don’t push back, give them what they’re dealing out, they’ll come for us again and again.” His eyes dimmed. “Even if we squash a queen bee, who’s to say the hive will fall? The next leader will come, and the next, and the next.”

Firestar wilted, even as he met Rookstar’s eyes.

Rookstar lowered his chin a little. “We won’t have to kill them again after this. They’ll get the message and stay in their home. A few corpses are worth avoiding many more.”

“I do not like to break the code’s law of death in battle,” Blackstar added, “but Rookstar speaks truthfully. It is necessary, this time.”

“And Scourge is dying first.” Leopardstar’s claws dug into the soil.

Firestar struggled for words, trying to find an argument that would dissuade them—but, as he looked into all of their eyes, the logical side of his brain murmured, There’s no changing their minds. Scourge will die at minimum. All you can do is not take a life yourself.

“I understand,” he said unhappily. “But I won’t be participating in murder, even if it is an enemy.”

Leopardstar squinted at him.

“I can respect that,” Rookstar said. His whiskers twitched grimly. “ThunderClan will have to disagree, though. Your fighting skills will be vital that night.”

Firestar said nothing. He felt sick.

“We shall meet with the loners Brick and Oracle bring, should they bring them, and perhaps we should bring all of our forces to wait for the battle with them.” Blackstar sat up straighter. “I suggest we find a way to tell our allies apart from the Blood. A marking, or a scent of some kind…”

“Mud will do it,” Leopardstar said. “We can streak mud on their faces. It’ll be easy to notice, but still look accidental.”

“And it might confuse the Blood,” Rookstar agreed. “They won’t know what it means. They don’t even know who all is on their side.”

Blackstar said something, but Firestar, try as he might, couldn’t pay attention. His thoughts circled around the prospect of death. Would the Blood force yearlings to fight? Would apprentice-age cats be killed? Would pregnant mollies have to take part?

Well… he thought, clinging to this spark of determination. At the very least, I’m not killing anyone. I won’t stoop that low.

He didn’t know why the ice in his belly spread to his chest at that thought.

[eyydhyeet]

Stitched in Ink Chapter 17 coming soon!

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

[queen-c0bra]

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐢𝐫|| 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘅 𝘆/𝗻 𝗹/𝗻

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· 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ ▎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 ▎ »»————-　𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦: 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘵𝘩🕊️ 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽 — 𝚂𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚘𝚛𝚠𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚎𝚜

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘵; 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳...

— ᴬᵍᵃᵗʰᵃ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗⁱᵉ

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RACING TOWARD THEIR FORTS, CONFIDENCE COURSING THROUGH THEIR VEINS LIKE ADRENALINE, Major l/n's crew was poised on the edge of triumph, assured of victory by the overwhelming odds stacked in their favor. Little did they know, fate had a far darker twist in store for them, lurking in the shadows of imminent danger, ready to shatter their illusions of invincibility with a brutal, unforgiving awakening. "We have a problem, Major." Sighed the bombardier, walking up to the self-proclaimed Dynamic Duo, as they exited the jeep, laughing all the way to the fortress, discussing about how they'd annihilate Hitler's delusional ass. 

"What?" Bucky asked as they all marched their way to the B-17. "Bubbles... He's sick as a dog." The brunette answered, his voice tinged with concern, as he led the two inside. As they entered the plane, the sight that greeted them was not what they expected. There, huddled in a corner, was Bubbles, shivering and pale, clearly down with a terrible cold. "I can fly." The man chattered, not wanting to let his team down. "Oh, the hell you can." The raven rolled his eyes in annoyance before turning to the captain. "Who do we have?" He asked briskly as he awaited her decision. With a finger resting on her chin, y/n appeared deep in thought as she considered all options.

"Sheesh, Bubbles- You look like shit." Scoffed Crosby as he got out of his jeep, arriving about 15 minutes later. "Save the compliments." Bubbles retorted dryly, his voice strained from illness. "Here-" He added, reaching out to hand his friend the map, his determination unwavering despite his obvious discomfort. "We're leading the wing today." Informed the man. "What? I can't- I can't lead a wing, Bubbles..." Panicked the brunette, freezing dead in his tracks upon hear those words leave his mate's mouth. "You can lead a wing. It's just like any other mission." Assured the man. 

"We assemble the squadron at 2,000 feet over splasher six at H plus 0112." He instructed. "You following me?" "Great Yarmouth; yeah, yeah-yeah..." Rambled Crosby, his mind already halfway out the door. "Don't be nervous," Bubbles comforted. "Croz, take this — it's my lucky snow globe." He said, handing it over as a token of fortune and solidarity. "I want it back." He sighed once the brunette took it, a wave of gratitude washing over his face as he did that. "Now, what are you waiting for? Go get 'em." 

"Booster pumps, pressure?" Bucky read the checklist aloud as y/n, the pilot, double checked everything to burn some time before the replacement Navigator would finally make it. "Pump's on, pressure's good." She replied, her tone reflecting the monotony of the routine. "Fuel quantity?" Repeated the raven, his boredom evident in his voice as he echoed her sentiments. "Good? Thought so... Looks like we're ready to start, Major." He concluded, punctuating his words with a bored raspberries, mirroring her feelings of tedium. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant." The girl let out a sigh of relief once the man had finally entered the fortress.

"Came as quick as I could, Majors." Croz panted, his breaths coming in short bursts as he entered the aircraft, shaking with anxiety. "Alright, well... Store your gear and get ready for takeoff." y/n instructed, her tone brisk and no-nonsense. "We're not gonna be the reason this goes off late." Bucky remarked, rolling his eyes in frustration at the delay. "Yes sir." The Navigator replied, as the girl started the first engine. "Morning!" Smiled the brunette, going through a checklist. "Mornin'-" Greeted Croz, removing his glove using his teeth as he set up his table. "Douglas." He introduced himself. "Harry Crosby." The navigator shook his hand out of courtesy.

"Oh, like Bing?" Asked the man. "Yeah..." Mumbled Harry, finding the charm his friend had given him. "You sing?" Doug questioned. "They kicked me outta the choir." Sighed the man honestly, as the fort made it's way to the runway, waiting for the green flare to signal their departure. "That's us." The raven informed, fastening his seatbelt and exchanging a resolute nod with y/n. Together, they were ready for whatever lay ahead on their journey. "Alright then, good luck, boys." Said the girl, her voice tinged with resilience as she sped up, focusing intently on the controls. Bucky kept his eye on the speed meter, his jaw set in concentration as they raced towards their destination, the weight of their mission heavy upon their shoulders.

"Seventy, eighty, night, hundred..." And with a surge of power, they lifted off the ground, soaring into the vast expanse of the sky, their mission awaiting them amidst the clouds and beyond. "Gear up." The y/h/c commanded, her voice authoritative as her buddy swiftly complied, ensuring their safety as they climbed higher. "You okay?" Douglas checked up on the nervous Navigator, his concern evident in his tone as they pressed forward into the unknown. "Oh, uh... Y-yeah, it's just my first time um, in the lead." Answered the man, his face betraying a hint of nervousness despite his attempt to mask it. "It's my first time in the lead."

"Yeah well, I've seen Bubbles do it a million times. Can't be that hard." The bombardier shot him a reassuring wink, his attempt to alleviate the Navigator's nerves clear in his gesture.

***

Hours had crawled by, the dullness of the uneventful flight only serving to fuel the boredom of the drama-hungry Majors. With nothing but endless skies stretching before them, they kept a watchful eye, scanning the horizon for any sign of those elusive Nazi fighters, their zest for action growing with each passing moment. "I swear, if I have to stare at these clouds for one more minute, I might just jump out and wrestle a Kraut myself." Bucky grumbled, his frustration evident as he squinted into the distance. "Yeah, well, I've been practicing my mid-air takedowns, so watch out." y/n quipped back, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned forward in her seat.

As the tension mounted and the expectancy reached its peak, they remained vigilant, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, even if it meant resorting to unconventional tactics to break the monotony of the infinite sky. "Bombardier to command pilot: I'm going to pull the fuse pins." Douglas informed, the anticipation palpable as they neared their target in Trondheim, just 30 minutes away. "Roger." The raven confirmed, his gaze sweeping across the horizon to gauge the visibility, his mind already calculating the precise moment to release their payload. Though the mission went by pretty smoothly, the crew was in for one unexpected surprise — Airsickness.

"Navigator to command pilot: 95th at 3 o'clock." Croz groaned after puking his brains out. "Roger, Navigator. I have visual." Replied Egan, acknowledging the report. "Uh, command pilot to tail: How we looking back there?" He then asked Pipsqueak. "Well, Major... Depends who you're asking about. Buck's element is in a V, but the rest of them look like an S if you ask me. They're all over the place." Scoffed the man as he assessed the formation. "Pilot to top turret: Send out a flare and see if they'll get in formation." Sighed the girl, aware that Biddick was probably still hungover. "Roger, wilco." 

"Pilot to navigator: New heading?" The Major then questioned, knowing that there was a turn she had to make somewhere around here to reach their target. The brunette, however, had different plans, as he threw up everything he had ever eaten in his entire life, rendering him unable to respond. "Crosby?" She called after a minute of silence. "Crosby... Wake up lieutenant!" She snapped impatiently, not wanting to screw up her first day as lead because of some incompetent, replacement navigator who wouldn't even be on her fort after this mission. Exchanging an annoyed expression with the Raven, the man decided to inquire more sternly.

"Crosby, heading!" Bucky barked, his voice firm, cutting through the haze of Crosby's illness. "Turn right to heading 017." Replied the brunette wearily, his voice strained as he struggled to overcome his sickness and focus on his duties. "Roger, 017 degrees." The girl rolled her eyes, making the turn. "Ah, great- Now you're sick!" The bombardier grumbled, checking up on his queasy crewmate. "No, only at first; it goes away." Croz promised between bouts of vomiting. "Please don't tell anyone." He then requested, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "Just put your mask back on and read the damn maps, come on!" said Douglas, his tone strict yet encouraging as he patted Croz's shoulders, urging him to push through the discomfort and focus on their mission.

"Pilot to navigator: How we doing back there, Crosby?" The girl checked in on her comrade after a while. "Uh, yeah- good, ma'am. Just um- just doing some calculations, Major." He rambled, slightly flustered as he rushed to the window to get some clarity on their current location. "There you are..." He let out a sigh of relief, his voice barely above a whisper as he mumbled to himself before rushing back to the maps to do the real math. "Right turn now to 075 degrees; 9 minutes to the IP — you can see the Kraut smoke screen." Crosby then informed, his tone more composed as he relayed the crucial information. 

"We got it, Croz." Bucky replied as he looked outside keenly. "Right turn to 075 degrees." He repeated loudly, ensuring that the command was clear and understood by all. "Inbound to target. Another right turn to 140." y/n announced as they neared the Nazi territory. "Flak — 12 o'clock level." The raven declared as the gunmen got into position. "Hang in there, boys. We're almost there." Murmured the girl, dodging the shots with ease during their first half in. "Bombardier to pilot: I got it- ready for autopilot." Said Doug. "Uh... Holding straight and level at 155 indicated airspeed. Autopilot on. Pilot to bombardier: The ship's all yours."

"Roger, my aircraft. Bomb bay doors coming open." He declared, his voice steady and authoritative as the fortress further progressed toward its target. "Shit- That was close." Bucky cursed as they narrowly dodged a bullet. "Ball to crew: Flak — 11 o'clock, low." Informed Babyface. "Waist to crew: Flak, 2 o'clock-- 3 o'clock level!" Cried a gunman. "Fuck- is everyone okay?!" y/n asked, her voice tinged with panic as they just got hit. "Command pilot to bombardier: how's it looking?" Bucky questioned, his concern evident in his tone as he sought information on their current situation. "Jesus Christ!"

"Bomb bay doors closing; bombsite secure... Bombardier to pilots: It's your plane." The brunette confirmed, as the rest of the crew thanked the lord in silence, feeling a lot more secure now that the fort was back with Major l/n. "Roger that." The girl mumbled, back to dodging the flak, glad that all the engines were still intact despite the blows their ship had taken. "Navigator to l/n: Another left turn to 106 to the rally point." Instructed Crosby. "Roger, wilco..." Taking the left a few minutes later, the crew knew that their mission was far from over. They might've successfully got the sub pens, but it was now time for the hardest part — going home.

As they navigated the Norwegian skies, their minds raced with thoughts of the dangers that resided, knowing that enemy fighters and flak awaited them on their return trip. Yet, despite the challenges, they remained resolute, hell-bent on making it back to the base safely, their task accomplished and their comrades by their side. "Redmeat Lead to Pacer Lead: Redmeat 3 is two engines down and they might lose another; they can't keep up this pace." The husky voice of Buck suddenly surprised the two Majors. The news sent a chill down their spines, a stark reminder of the perilous nature of their commission and the fragility of their aircraft.

With the realization sinking in, they knew they had to act fast to ensure the safety of their friend and his men, the only real measure of success on the battlefield according to the y/h/c Major. "Roger." Bucky sighed, his tone heavy with distress. "Zootsuit Lead to Zootsuit: We got a straggler. We're gonna throttle down and stick with him. Await instructions." Explained y/n, her voice calm and collected despite the urgency of the situation. "Let's slow her down to 130." The raven then suggested, his mind already racing with plans to assist their struggling ally. "I got you."

"Crosby, I need you to adjust for our new airspeed and figure out how to get us home, copy?" Bucky then requested. "Roger, command; just give me a minute" The brunette replied, his tone stable and adamant as he sat straight, fully alert and ready to tackle the obstacles they'd undoubtedly face. As he began plotting their next turn, something disgusting rolled down his forehead, and on top of the map. 'Holy Mackerel, Croz- You've been hit!' Bursting into tears, the man began crying for help. "I'm hit- I'M HIT!" Heart racing with fear, the bombardier rushed over to the trembling man. "Jeez Croz- What?!" He asked. "Oh, no no no... I'm okay- I'm okay. False alarm." Giggled the brunette after realizing what it really was, relief flooding over him as he wiped away the harmless debris.

"Crosby, I need that fucking plan!" Yelled the raven Major. "On it- Coming up, sir." Responded Croz, working on it. "Navigator to command pilot: we--" The man started, only to be cut off by his mic breaking up. "I didn't get a word of that. I think your wire's... Anyway, we can't hear you, pal." y/n sighed, gritting her teeth in intense irritation as she struggled to make sense of the garbled transmission. "Can you check if your mic pack is on and working?" Requested the raven, balling up his fists, as agitated as his friend. "Major- Major... Majors!" Crosby rushed up to the cockpit. "I said we go 244 and head for the Shetlands. When we're clear of Norway, we got to 4,500 feet, take cover in the clouds. When we hit Scotland, we go straight south." He repeated.

"That way, if Biddick has to put her down, at least he's on land." He explained as the pilots began calculating the details mentally to see if it was a sensible idea. "Alright, that's the plan." Turns out it was. "Woah, hey hey hey- 244?" Bucky called after the man as he quickly left. "Roger, 244." He confirmed. "Okay fellas, we're heading to 244..." Mumbled y/n. "JU-88 — 10 o'clock level!" Left waist quickly warned as a loud jet zoomed past their fort, heading straight for the runts. "They're heading to the low!" Knowing they didn't have much time to waste, the girl was confident in the blonde CO of the 350th to take care of Curt and himself.

"Redmeat Lead to Pacer Lead: JU-88s are gone, and Biddick's still with us." Just as she had hoped, Cleven was quick to confirm. "Roger, Redmeat. That's good to hear." She smiled to herself, relieved that threat had passed, and their comrades was safe. "Now, let's make that turn to 244, boys..." she said, her voice relaxing a little now that the immediate danger had subsided. "Pacer Lead to Redmeat 3: Hang on in there, we'll stick with you as long as we can. Over." Bucky assured their slacking friend. "Pilot to crew: dropping below 10,000." Announced the girl as they all removed their masks. "Pilot to navigator: Are we over Scotland yet?"

"Croz!" Cried the frustrated raven for the 18th time today. "Yes... Ye-yes yeah. Yes, we're approaching the coast now, ma'am." He confirmed. "Zootsuit Lead to Zootsuit: We're over Scotland. Let's drop to devil's four, and uh, see if we can get Redmeat 3 on the ground. Out." Bucky reported. "Nice work, Croz." The brunette gave their nervous Navigator a comforting pat on the back, sinking into his seat once their part of the job was finally over. "Redmeat 3 to Pacer Lead: We're losing number three. We're heading down now for an emergency landing... over." Curt informed as they advanced towards Fraserburgh.

"Roger, Redmeat 3... Godspeed."

(2.7k words)

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Sooo I created a taglist! Do let me know if you wish to be added to it or removed from it <3

@abysscorpus @beebeechaos @darkwindysoul @sc4rl3tteb1tch

[amethystskeleton]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

(Excerpt from Chapter 17):

“No don’t sit there Dunbar,” Coach whined almost immediately, “it just doesn't work with eight tables in the room! This one is right in the middle of my teaching space,” he gestured frantically at the table where Liam was sitting. The nurse arched an unimpressed eyebrow.

“You teach from the back of the classroom right next to the fire safety hose?” A few snickers arose from the classroom at her point. Coach just doubled down though and stepped further under the head of the hose. 

“Yes. I actually have a very bad fear of spontaneous combustion and it makes me feel safer to conduct my teaching from here.” An amused smile spread across her face and she walked around the desks, shooing Mick to the table with Liam. 

“Well you are in luck Mr. Finstock, as a formally trained nurse, I’ll stay here for the class to ensure that should you catch fire, there is someone here to administer care.” Liam couldn’t stop the amused smirk from spreading across his face as she settled down against the back wall, preparing to go to war with Coach’s power of will. 

[coolpointsetta]

~ six sentence sunday ~

The gentle, steady beeping of the heart rate monitor makes Roy blink. The room smells of disinfectant and some cheap room spray in an attempt to mask it. The hand held tightly in his is cold, just as it was yesterday. The skin of said hand is paler than normal, and the sad, pitiful rays of sunlight leaking through the room make the body seem ghastly and not at all healthy.

Roy takes a deep breath in. Nobody else is in the room to notice how wobbly it is.

“Please,” Roy whispers as he brings the hand up against his forehead and presses his other hand around it. He grips it tightly, squeezing in the hopes of the man in the bed squeezing him back. He’s tried countless times over the past thirty hours, but the hand has never returned the gesture.

“Please,” Shaking his head, Roy lets out another shaky exhale. “Bring him back to me.”

There’s another steady beep from the heart monitor. But Jamie Tartt does not wake.

[ericshoney]

The Mafia Boss ~ Chapter seventeen

Y/n's POV

It was about nine in the evening, I was sat in Sunghoon's bedroom reading a book quietly, tucked under the covers. He then walks in, grabbing his leather jacket.

"Babe, you okay?" I question, watching him walk around the room.

"I need to go out, I'm taking Jay with me." He said.

"Okay, anything I can help with?" I offer. He sighs and sits on the end on the bed.

"I'm going to meet Lia. She was the one who sent that letter." He confesses.

"The one from this morning?" I recall.

"Yeah that one." He mumbles.

"Why didn't you tell me there and then? Was it cause Bea was there?" I ask.

"No, I thought you would worry too much so I lied. Don't worry the guys, especially Jungwon, have spoke to me about it. I'm sorry my love." He answers.

"Am I happy you lied, no, but I understand why. What did the guys say?" I question.

"Jungwon got angry and left after his mini speech, but they basically said that I shouldn't lie or hide anything from you and that I should tell Bea more stuff in case something were to ever happen." He tells me.

"I agree with them. You shouldn't keep me in the dark, its why I left in the first place. And with Bea, I know you just keep her safe, its your job as an older brother, but maybe your doing it a bit too much. She needs to know the dangers of her brother being a mafia boss, who are good or who are bad, what happens if you or any of the guys come home hurt, she'd panic a lot." I tell him.

"I know, I'll do better my love." He said softly. 

I slip out the covers and sit next to him, I turn his head to me and kiss his lip sweetly. He places his hands on my cheeks, holding my head in place. We kiss sweetly for a minute before pulling away.

"I love you Sunghoon. I'm not leaving again." I tell him. He smiles and kisses my cheek.

"I love you too my Queen~" He said sweetly.

"No go out and deal with this fake bitch. I'm expecting you and Jay home in once piece!" I exclaim, making him laugh.

"I promise." He said.

I kiss his cheek as he gets up and leave. I want him and Jay home in once piece, I hope nothing bad happens.