#until one day you wake up and despite months of treating you terribly - and admitting it 3 weeks ago!!! - she's now saying...

[inkskinned]

i'm still trying to piece together the truth of it. when you left, you said: feel free to spin this narrative however you want. i have no idea if you were being cruel or if you just genuinely don't remember what you've done to me.

it's hard because i'd done so much of the work for you. i had seen the parts that flaked off, the rust underneath. i started separating you into two people - the one i loved, and the one who hurt me. i had this fantasy version of you - my partner - and then i had this stranger, a third person who would show up randomly to shatter me. i am deliriously glad i'm no longer with "the stranger". i miss the gentle (unreal?) "other" you terribly.

at first, i was so strict about my boundaries. i remember telling you to get the fuck out of my house if you were going to talk to me like that. by the end: i would justify your behavior for you, accepting even your mistreatment as "my fault" in the grand scheme. i look back on the person i was before you - smart, independent, confident - and i feel a strange sense of detachment. i don't even recognize me.

even in one of our last conversations, you said: if you want a partner that always talks warmly to you, find someone else. there was a time that a comment like that would have made me leave. and instead, somehow, i just placidly accepted that kind of thing. you were literally telling me that i wasn't allowed to have a reaction to your cruelty - and i just took it, because you'd so fully turned things around on me.

when people are faced with irrationality, a rational brain tries to make sense of it. this is the trap. they're lovely in the morning, gentle and blue-eyed and sweet. like nothing even happened, they breeze around the house and kiss you on the mouth. but at night; who is that? they snap almost randomly; flying into an impotent rage about just-about-anything. it just doesn't make sense. so the problem must be me, and my brain, and how i think.

the traumatized brain just wants peace. so maybe i'm misremembering. maybe you were just having a bad day. maybe it's actually me.

you eventually would fully turn on me and start implying that i am the bad actor in our relationship. that's what happens, right? that's literally in the playbook. you went to therapy for all of a month, told her a half-truth, co-opted therapyspeak. you figured out how to reframe your actions as "seeking peace." any time i stood my ground, i was "gaslighting." when i asked you to be more gentle, you said i was "tone policing." you said, randomly, i had emotionally manipulated you - i still have no idea what that's even specifically referring to. maybe my consistent requests for calmness and empathy?

and while i literally know better, and i'm sitting here, trained by you, thinking: wait, fuck. was i actually the person you made me out to be?

and the thing that scares me is that i literally do not know if you ever actually saw what you were doing to me. when you'd tell me how you remember arguments, you'd always summarize them in a way where you come off as gentle and easy: "i was trying to set an important boundary." what had actually happened was 15 minutes of you shouting at me i know you did something shady, just admit it already. eventually you'd say my reaction to your shouting (when i finally reacted, which usually happened around hour three) was inevitably "disappointing" and "another way i'm silencing your feelings."

how many times did i ask you - beg you - to just take accountability? looking back, i don't think i ever heard you say: you're right. the way i talked to you was wrong of me.

i am trying to tie together the two people into a full version of you in my head. yes, you made my coffee and made me laugh and spent hours on the phone with me. and yes - you would scream at me until i had to run away and hide behind something.

i wish i did have a narrative i could pull out and shape to my whim. i wish i did have some semblance of reality. instead i just stand here, strange and vibrating, wondering: what the fuck just happened?

[10000ducks-whump]

i see in the tumblr search your "pet whumpee tries to treat caretaker as their new master" and raise you "pet whumpee refuses to accept caretaker because caretaker isn't their master"

OHHH THE ANGST I LOVE IT

contains: pet whump, manhandling, emotional whump

Ever since Whumpee had come back, they'd been different. Of course Caretaker hadn't expected them to be the same--months of being captured and most likely tortured by Whumper would have changed anyone. But they'd seen a difference in them when they'd first came to rescue them, and now they didn't even know if this was Whumpee anymore.

Whumpee would stare longingly out the window almost every time they weren't eating, if they even ate at all. Every time Caretaker tried to talk to them, they'd either turn away or stare straight through them like an emotionless robot. Worse yet, they absolutely refused to let them take off their collar; a shiny leather one that sat comfortably around their neck, with Whumper's horrible name carved onto a small, metal tag hanging from it.

Caretaker felt nauseous every time they saw it, and terrible thoughts would bubble up from the darkest parts of their mind, imagining what Whumper had done to them. And so they'd decided they'd take it off. They snuck into Whumpee's room late at night, scissors stuffed into their pocket.

They opened the door to a heart-shattering sight.

Whumpee was curled up on their bed, sleeping on top of the blankets. They were curled into a ball and hugging their knees to their chest, their back to the door and their front to the large windows in their room, where the moonlight shone in. A bright light gleamed near their neck--the tag on their collar.

"Please don't wake up..."

They tiptoed around their bed so that they stood in the moonlight, casting a shadow over Whumpee. They gently reached for their collar, which sat like a belt around their neck, and pulled it back a bit until they could just slide the blade of their scissors under it.

Whumpee didn't stir.

It was only when they started to cut through their collar that they suddenly awoke, screaming in fear. Caretaker jolted, and in their shock, Whumpee scrambled back until their back hit the headboard, staring at Caretaker with wide, scared eyes, like a wounded animal. They breathed deep and quick, clutching at their collar like a lifeline.

There were a few seconds of silence, until Caretaker took a step forward, and Whumpee screamed again, rushing off the bed and out the door.

"MASTER!!! MASTER!!!"

"Whumpee!!"

Caretaker immediately gave chase. They climbed over the bed and raced down the stairs, stopping when they heard the sound of the doorknob being fumbled with. Running to the front door, they found Whumpee desperately trying to open it--despite the door being locked from the inside. They caught sight of Caretaker, and pressed themselves against the door, fingers clutching at the wood, trying to find something to hold.

"Whumpee, I don't want to hurt you!" Caretaker yelled. "I--"

"NO!! STAY AWAY FROM ME!!!"

"Whumpee, it's ok! It's me, you know I--"

"MASTER, HELP ME!!!!"

"Whumpee!"

Whumpee let out another heartbreaking scream, and for fear of their neighbors waking up, Caretaker quickly put a hand over Whumpee's mouth, causing them to cry and struggle. They thrashed out of their hold, scurrying past them, but Caretaker caught their arm, guilt panging through their gut as they watched them fight desperately against their hold.

"MASTER!!! MASTER!!!"

"Whumpee!!"

Caretaker spun them around until they could grab their shoulders. They pushed them into the sofa, panting heavily, Whumpee's body frozen with fear, staring at Caretaker in even more horror.

"Please don't hurt Pet," they whispered. "Pet...Pet...Pet only wants Master...Please...Please..."

"...No. I'm not letting you go back to them. Whumpee...wh-whatever's going on, I can fix it."

Whumpee shook their head, tears flowing out from their eyes, shut tight. "No," they gasped. "Pet wants Master. Please, Pet wants Master."

For one second, Caretaker considered letting them go. But they shook the thought out of their head, and gripped Whumpee tighter, drawing a fearful whimper from them.

"You don't need Master. You have me. Caretaker. R-remember me? Your friend?"

They shook their head again. "Master...please..." they breathed, so quiet Caretaker almost couldn't hear it.

"..."

They were only hurting them more by doing this. Caretaker let them go, and they instantly ran upstairs. A door slammed shut. They were left all alone, in the dark living room, staring at the space where Whumpee had just been on the sofa.

A part of them wanted to just admit that Whumpee was just too far gone. They suppressed it, trying every day to connect with them, softly talking to them, showing them photos, cooking them their favorite meal, reading them their favorite book. But no matter how much they tried to remind them of what once was, they always cowered away to look out the window again. Forever stealing away from their touch.

The part of them slowly consumed them more each day.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin has been gone for two years, Arthur has a meeting with the Lord Emrys to help with the changing laws:

And he has never bitterly regretted sending Merlin away more

Part 2(final part)

Angst,

SO

I'm gonna say... about 6 months before Uther dies, Merlin's magic is revealed to Arthur.

He really does NOT react well.

Arthur doesn't let Merlin get a word of explanation in, before he hits him on the head so hard he's unconscious before he even hits the floor.

When Merlin wakes up, what he can only assume is MUCH later, he's wearing cold iron shackles, he's been blindfolded, and gagged.

He just listens at first, still dazed and certainly concussed.

After about twenty minutes he's more aware, and realises... he's outside, in a forest, and he's on his own.

~

It’s been two years since Arthur abandoned Merlin in the woods beyond Camelot’s border.

He’s been King now for about a year and a half.

He went back three days later and tracked Merlin for a few hours, before coming to the conclusion that he'd gotten away safely, and heading back to Camelot.

He always tried to justify it to himself as protecting Merlin from Uther, ignoring the fact that Merlin had managed just fine on his own for years.

But really that was just an excuse. All he saw in the moment was a liar and a traitor. Really he should've had Merlin executed so... he's still a good person. He did the right thing.

He hadn't told anyone else the truth (perhaps because he knows they would hate him for it). Instead he told them that he and Merlin had argued, and before Arthur could get to the bottom of why his manservant was so irate, he stormed off in the middle of the night, and told him he wasn't coming back.

He stuck to that story the whole two years, though he's fairly certain they at least suspect he's lying. Gaius definitely does.

I imagine Gaius, only a few days after Merlin's disappearance, taking Arthur aside one night, and demanding to know if Merlin was dead. If Arthur had killed him:

"No! No of course not. He... we had a fight. It's like I said. He left in the night and told me not to follow him, that he wasn't coming back. I plan to respect his wishes."

Gaius releases the bruising grip he'd had on Arthur’s arm and takes a step back, his expression unreadable as he stares at the Prince.

"I...why would think I killed him?"

"Despite the fact that he most certainly could've defended himself against you, I always found it troubling how willing he was to let you execute him, should that be what you wanted."

Arthur has no reply to that, what would he even say? Would Merlin really have willingly walked to a pyre? If Arthur had only asked?

Gaius goes to walk away at that, but just before he shuts the door behind him, he pauses, and without looking back, says:

"If I find out you have killed my son, Sire, for who he is, there will... there is a large group of people who would see that justice is served. Myself included."

Everyone notices the change in the relationship between Gaius and Arthur since Merlin had left.

Arthur, with the knowledge that Gaius knows. Knows the truth and had guessed what he'd done. He couldn't face that.

They barely spoke to each other, Arthur avoided the physician wherever possible and words of encouragement and kindness were no longer aimed his way from the gentle old man.

His relationships with the others deteriorated as well.

They either thought he was telling the truth, and resented him for both being cruel to Merlin, and letting him go so easily.

(After years of Arthur treating Merlin terribly, no one is really surprised that Merlin had decided he'd had enough and left.)

OR they thought he was lying, hiding something, and resented him for not telling them the truth, and potentially doing something unforgivable to Merlin.

All but Gwaine are still polite to him, showing him the due respect of a Prince, and then a King, but not of a friend.

After a series of hijinks, Arthur comes to the terrifying realisation that magic isn't all bad.

Really I think, he's known all along. But admitting that magic wasn't pure evil made what he did to Merlin even more unforgivable.

He begins making moves to legalise it. It's slow and difficult, and he meets resistance at every turn.

BUT he also has the surprising support of Gaius, and his knights, and Gwen, and Morgana.

Still, none of them treat him like a friend, not the way they used to, but they're helping him along the way. He hadn't realised how many people close to him opposed the ban, until he started dismantling it.

Hope rises in him, over the months, as he realises that once he's legalised magic, he can find Merlin, and bring him back. The first place he'll check is Ealdor.

He's... scared of that. Scared that he won't be able to find him, but more scared that he will. That Merlin will hate him. That Merlin won't care that he's repealing the ban and won't want to come back.

Arthur doesn't think he could bare that.

Mostly because he knows that it would be entirely his own fault.

After the ban is finally lifted, there are huge celebrations. If the King is seen to be searching the crowds, as if for a familiar face, no one mentions it.

A few days later, a group of Druids come for an audience with the King, and are met by Arthur in the courtyard.

After quick introductions, and pleasantries, the leader begins to speak:

"Once and Future King, I first want to extend my gratitude for this warm welcome, and promise that you have the Druid's full support in lifting the ban. We hope for a peaceful future, full of cooperation and compassion."

Arthur nods and smiles slightly at that, but before he can reply in anyway, the Druid speaks again:

"Our leader, the leader of all Druids and all magic of the world, would like to convene with you, and discuss the specifics of any future agreements between our two worlds."

Arthur is surprised at that, but hides it well. Leader of... all magic? Sounds... powerful:

"Of course, I readily accept. They may bring themselves forth, I will make time for a meeting whenever they so choose."

"Your majesty, My Lord Emrys already awaits you in the throne room-"

(The Druid smiles at Arthur's barely concealed shock at his words, both at the idea that someone had snuck into his castle undetected, and at the mention of Emrys. One of the the few conversations he'd had with Gaius had been an in-depth explanation of who Emrys was, and his and Arthur's destiny (the physician had failed, of course, to mention Emrys' true identity.)) 

The Druid continues gently:

"-He's not one for public appearances."

"I.... of course. Will you and your group be attending? Or would you like to be shown to your rooms immediately?"

"This is a matter to be discussed privately, between the two of you, My Lord. Myself and my group have a camp just beyond the city walls that we will return to. Thank you for the offer of hospitality, we appreciate the kindness greatly."

With that, the Druid gives another short bow before turning and leaving through the castle gates, his group following closely behind him.

Arthur takes a deep breath, briefly glancing at Sir Leon, who stands at his side, and instructing him to inform the council that any remaining meetings for the day had been cancelled.

Leon gives a stiff nod and stalks off. He had been the best at hiding his disdain for his former best friend, but it still shone through occasionally, and Arthur's heart clenches as he thinks that he really can blame no one but himself for the deterioration of everything in his personal life.

With another deep breath, he re-enters the castle, and heads towards the throne room, trying to psyche himself up for meeting the supposed Leader of All Magic, who had managed to sneak his way into the heart of the castle, without anyone noticing or raising the alarm.

He pauses briefly outside the doors, and instructs the guards to not let Anyone in, without the King's express permission.

They nod, and with that, Arthur opens the doors and enters, shutting them quietly, before turning around to be faced with a near empty throne room.

He furrows his brow as his eyes settle on a single man, his back to Arthur where he stands gazing out a window, onto the courtyard below.

Arthur can't see his face, he can't see much of him to be honest, he's shrouded in a floor length blue cloak, hood up and covering his head.

The King stares only for a moment before raising himself to his full height, clearing his throat, and speaking:

"Lord Emrys? It's my honour to welcome you to Camelot. Thank you for coming."

The man turns his head slightly at that, though not enough for Arthur to see any more of his face.

"Your honour?-"

He huffs a small laugh at that, though it sounds dry and sarcastic, as opposed to genuinely humoured.

"- we shall see about that."

His voice comes out strangely, obviously magically altered, and Arthur has to stop himself from gulping at the many voices echoing around the otherwise empty room.

They sound sort of... familiar? But he pushes that feeling down and takes yet another deep breath:

"Of course. I've been told a great deal about you. That you have always been an ally to Camelot, and have protected both me personally, and the Kingdom, from the shadows, never asking for credit or requesting recognition. I thank you for that, my gratitude knows no bounds. You had no reason to protect a kingdom that previously would have seen you burn, though I swear to you, that is not how things work now."

Emrys let's out a chuckle at that, this one somehow even less humoured than the last

He gives a small nod, before saying, almost to himself, though Arthur hears anyway:

"Yes, we shall see."

His voice is no longer disguised, and Arthur once again pushes down the feeling of recognition blooming in his chest. He's sure he knows that voice.

("It sounds like.... no. It isn't. Stop hearing things that aren't there. You're just setting yourself up for heartbreak." runs through his head.)

Arthur is unsure how to continue the conversation from there, but before he has to force some sort of response out, Emrys finally turns, and lowers his hood.

Arthur takes a step back and gasps, his eyes wide.

Merlin's hard eyes stare back at him, his expression completely blank. He looks very different, but is still recognisable as Arthur's former manservant.

"...Merlin?" Escapes Arthur's mouth, so quietly he can barely hear it himself

At this, Emrys let's out a deep sigh, sounding almost resigned, as he cocks an eyebrow and replies:

"No one's called me that in two and a half years. You know, I used to hate the idea of people calling me Emrys instead of Merlin. Now, I find that I feel the exact opposite.-"

He tilts his head slightly, looking briefly puzzled as he maintains eye contact and mumbles:

“-Or perhaps it’s just you.”

At this Arthur gulps, and really looks at Merlin... or Emrys.

He's bulked out a little, no longer skinny and sickly looking, he fills his clothes (good quality, blues and silvers and blacks, intricate patterns and fitting well) in a way he never had before. His hair has grown out long and curls around his ears. His beard has grown in a little.

(Think, the living and the dead) :

His hands, which now have druid markings tattooed all over (they're also just about visible above his collar, though they don't go very far up his neck) , are clasped tightly in front of him, his fingers adorned with a couple of rings.

Nothing he wears looks especially expensive, Merlin had never been one to dress up, but they are good quality, and screamed "Druid" and "powerful".

"You're Emrys? Why did you never say??"

Merli-... Emrys tenses his jaw at that, his face showing slight anger as opposed to the boredom it displayed before, but before he can answer, the gang bursts in all at once.

Arthur can hear the guards yelling over the top of the door banging against the wall, and the footsteps of eight people rushing into the room.

"I tried to stop them sire but they wouldn't- Merlin??" From Leon has Arthur letting out a frustrated growl.

The King sweeps his eyes over the rest of the group as they all stare in surprise at Merlin.

Gaius is the only one who doesn't look surprised, he is instead smiling, and steps forward to offer Merlin a hug, which he accepts with no resistance as a small smile graces his face.

Merlin speaks quietly, but everyone can hear him:

"It's good to see you Gaius. I've missed you. When this is all sorted I've got so many things to tell you, to show you."

Gaius pulls back and grins even wider,

"All in time, dear boy. You're looking very well. I'm glad you've finally revealed yourself as the Lord Emrys."

Merlin blushes slightly at that and looks down:

"I haven't gone by the name Merlin in almost three years Gaius, Camelot has been the only place to not know me."

Merlin steps back, and glances quickly at the others, before settling his gaze on Arthur, who is looking a little like an animal caught in a trap. Merlin's eyes harden once again, and he schools his face back into disinterest and boredom:

"As I was about to say before, My King, I didn't get a chance to explain myself to you before I awoke, shackled and blinded and cold, with a rather nasty head wound, in the middle of a forest. And quite frankly, after that, I wasn't prepared to stumble my way back to Camelot and try for a second time. Though perhaps I should be grateful you simply knocked me out and dumped me, as opposed to burning me?"

Arthur looks to be in physical pain, but doesn't look away from Merlin, not even as the others gasp and mutter and stare and glare at him.

"Shackled? You.... I knew you were lying you monster. How could you?!" From Morgana is the first thing loud enough to be heard.

It's Gwaine who speaks next, but Arthur still doesn't look away from Merlin:

"You bastard. What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He goes to draw his sword and step towards the King, but Elyan holds him back:

"No, Gwaine. It isn't our place. This is Merlin's fight, and he knows we all stand with him."

At that, Merlin finally looks away, an ever so slight smile escapes as Elyan nods to him, and becomes the first of the group to move to stand behind Merlin, facing the king. The others follow shortly after.

They stand in a group just behind him, the fury rolling off them in waves.

Morgana steps forward and takes one of Merlin's hands in her own. Staring Arthur down, she speaks, her eyes flash gold as a sharp wind whips through the throne room. No windows or doors have been left open:

"Would you have done the same to me, brother-mine? Would you have beaten me and shackled me and left me in a forest to rot?"

Arthur steps back in complete shock, the group behind her and Merlin are also shocked, but take it in their stride.

Merlin squeezes her hand in a silent "I'm sorry, I'm with you, I'll teach you, you're safe."

Arthur doesn't really have the words at this point. He's speechless and in shock and almost crying.

He had always known that his first meeting with Merlin would be difficult, but he wasn't expecting everyone who had ever been important to him to be there as well, stood opposite him, hating him.

The wind dies down as Gwen places a hand on the other woman's shoulder from behind. Merlin looks towards Morgana first, and offers a comforting smile to her teary face, before looking behind him to the others.

"As much as I appreciate the support, and as much as I love, and have missed you all, I think me and the King need to have a private meeting on the matter. Personal problems aside, I need to see to the continued safety of my people."

It’s quiet, reserved Percival, who speaks up:

"Like hell are we leaving you with him now we know what he did." The others nod at this, but Merlin replies gently:

"I'll be fine, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. Go, I'll find you later."

At this, he turns once more to Morgana:

"There is a group of Druids camped just beyond the city walls, go to them, take Gaius. They will help you until this is all resolved, and then I can teach you myself." he says with a smile, and at her nod, he glances at Gaius, who steps forward and leads Morgana out the room, closely followed by a hesitating gaggle of knights.

Gwen is the only one who remains, as she takes Merlin’s hand briefly in Morgana’s place, and snarls at Arthur:

"Monster."

-before following the others out of the room, and shutting the door behind her, leaving the throne room once again empty of people, bar the Forever King and the Immortal One.

Merlin speaks first, looking back to Arthur, unwavering and determined:

"How do I know this is all real? The change in laws?"

"I... what? What do you mean real? Of course it's real. Merlin please, can we just-"

Merlin turns away as he interrupts him, and walks back towards the window, to look upon the courtyard, where countless innocents had been slaughtered:

"Pretending to change the laws so you can lure my people to your city, before starting another purge, sounds like exactly something Uther's son would do. I will not put my people in danger by encouraging them to come here, before I can be sure they are truly safe from the Pendragon line."

Arthur's heart breaks even more. He really had damaged the relationship between himself and Merlin more than he ever could've imagined. Merlin had seemed to make it his life goal to assure Arthur that he wasn't his father, that he could follow his own path and create his own legacy. Before Arthur had ruined everything.

"I would never. The law is changed. Sorcer- your people, are safe. Merlin will you please-"

Merlin turns and interrupts again, looking Arthur directly in the eyes, obviously not prepared to let the conversation turn personal.

"Promises made to beings of magic are... powerful. There is magic in words, swear to me that my people are safe from persecution, and I will believe it."

"I...yes. I swear it. People with magic will no longer be unfairly persecuted in this kingdom as long as I am king, I swear it, in the name of Camelot."

Merlin’s eyes flash gold, and Arthur feels as though the words he's just spoken have been branded onto his soul. In a way, they have.

Merlin looks once more out of the window, and replies quietly, but darkly:

"I will hold you to that, Arthur Pendragon."

~

THE END!

This two-parter has been finished!!

As per usual, I only write drafts, so if someone wants to write this up all proper, then go for it, credit and tag me✌

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 28 - This Ain't No Hymn

Masterlist; Chapter 27

Summary: Time is running until Stalsk-12 and whatever awaits you there. You and Neil try to make the best out of what you have left.

Warnings: 18+ (implied and not so implied content); teasing; swearing.

Author's Notes: Gosh that was a long month... and I'm sorry it took ages. But it's here...! And it's over 14k for which I am terribly sorry. This one is my final stall before we kick off the action and I do hope you'll enjoy the absolute crackheadery of whatever goes on. Feedback greatly appreciated, as always!

During the final two days leading up to the battle, you did wonder how life can be at once so wonderful and yet terrifying. It was easy to get used to the new reality, letting Neil stay in your cabin for most of the time and only use his own for those brief periods when he would need a change of clothes. Or when you would be busy dealing with the assigned tasks, and he would get bored (as he proclaimed). Still, there was barely a time when you were not together.

Mornings were undeniably something else. As the remains of Morpheus’ spell wore off, you snuggled the duvet closer to your chest, relishing in the warmth provided by the blanket and the man sleeping beside you. One last heavy sigh before you opened your eyes, squinting in the bright light falling through the porthole. The sun rays aiming directly at your face, causing you to turn onto the side and face Neil. Despite the numerous mornings spent like this, the sight of him never got old. Your eyes slowly swept over his features. The relaxed brow, blonde hair falling over the forehead in complete disarray. Lips slightly parted, letting out quiet snores. You grinned, overwhelmed with love and gratitude. Because this was worth all the heartache and drama. Absolutely priceless.

Scooting a little bit closer, you felt his hand instinctively tighten over your waist. The hold, which has been placed the previous evening, not shifting throughout the whole night. Keeping you secured and warm. Just as if you were always supposed to end up like this. And perhaps you were. Gently, you reached out to brush your fingertips over his temple. Tentative touch making his breath even out, waking him in the process. Using the momentum, you swept the hair away from his eyes, ending the caress by running the pad of your thumb over his nose and mouth. If only because he was within your grasp.

Neil opened his eyes then, blinking twice to get used to the brightness. You watched as he took in the surroundings, consciousness needing few seconds longer to catch up. Once his eyes landed on you, his lips curled into a soft smile. Gaze immediately showing you nothing but affection. You mirrored his expression, letting yourself extend the staring. It was easy to waste the morning just doing that, gazing into each other’s eyes, getting used to the unbelievable luck. The comfortable silence stretched for a few minutes when Neil grinned and pulled you closer, hiding his head in the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent with reverence. The happy giggle rose in your throat, tinting the words with breathlessness:

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” the nickname coming out of nowhere, yet fitting too well.

You could feel Neil’s smile widen. Cradling you close, he kissed your collarbone and slipped his hands underneath the shirt to caress the skin. It was always like this, slow and blissful, with every minute spent cuddling reminding you why loving him was something essential.

“I should be annoyed at you for waking me up,” the pretended sulking accentuated with a huff let out by Neil.

Still, his hold over your waist tightened. Another kiss laid on the collarbone, teeth lightly grazing over your skin. At this point, hickeys were just another thing that had to be accepted. With the military fashion aboard the icebreaker depending largely on pullovers and combat trousers, you did not need much to hide them. Now, feeling the sleepiness gradually make way for other emotions, you wound your arms around his middle, tangling more to prolong the contentment.

“What’s the but there?” dropping the cheeky question, you made sure to press a kiss to the top of his head.

Taking a moment to drag your fingers through his hair, arranging the eternal mess someway, a job you took on most days now. It was only a pleasure, making sure he looked presentable and yet still like his chaotic self.

“But… this way I can spend few more minutes like this” another blissful sigh, “And this is rather nice,” the adjective complemented with a final trail of kisses down your neck.

Using the loose cut of the t-shirt, Neil ended the study with a longer caress on your bare shoulder. Earning a gasp from you. And then, to sober up, you remarked:

“I love it when you become this incomprehensible in the mornings,” another tactical distraction in the form of tracing your fingertips down his forearm.

His cluelessness first thing after waking up was endearing. Despite always being rather dependent on touch and closeness, it was in those hours when he tended to seek comfort. As opposed to your evening need of hugs and cuddles, helping your anxious brain settle in for the night. It worked. Very much so.

“Very funny” Neil raised his head, joining you on the pillow, “You’re quite gorgeous, did you know that?” eyes showing you the unimaginable extent of infatuation.

You grinned, the charm never failing to get to you. In moments like this, it was easy to believe him. To accept the fact that he was in love with you. Exactly as you are.

“You might’ve mentioned it once or twice. I��m not convinced though” sensing the potential in this line of conversation, you made sure to put up the act.

It worked if judging by the way his eyes lit up with the familiar glimmer. As if that was the needed push for him. The wake-up call.

“I’ll convince you then,” a predatory smirk reminding you of the defeat.

There was no point in fighting him. With excitement fluttering in the pit of your stomach, you watched as he shifted to hover over you. Hands settling comfortably on your waist. One last wink before he leaned down, crashing his mouth into yours with hunger. Your hands ventured up his arms to enlace on the nape of his neck, offering leverage. To pull him down as you deepened the kiss. Easily letting his tongue brush against yours in the intimate moves. Every glide of his lips against yours resulting in flickering fire, electrical sparks trailing down your veins. Muffled sighs and gasps breaking the silence. It was never something effortlessly brushed off. Each kiss sharpening the need and affirming the convictions. Unforgettable.

You broke off the contact only once it felt like you both would suffocate if letting it continue. With a permanent grin, you watched as Neil flopped back on the pillow and took a greedy breath, hand taking yours instinctively and lacing up the fingers to extend the touch. After a few seconds of the recovery period, you decided to pick up on the playful strand once more. For good measure. Raising on the elbow, you glanced down at him with a cheeky smile:

“Do you always kiss that good?” you slowly dragged your tongue along your lips, saving up the remains of the taste.

With satisfaction, you observed as his eyes darted to your mouth, pupils darkening as though that was enough to entice him. The attraction never failing to surprise you in its intensity. Fate and related synonyms constantly on your mind. Because what else could it be?

“You tell me” following your mood, Neil smirked, never easily thrown off by the banter.

Shots fired and all that. Naturally. You broke into a laugh, half-collapsing against him. Only the arms wrapping around your waist keeping you secured. There was nothing left to do but let the giggles die down, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“My god…” words choked out with immeasurable happiness, “If it’s going to be a lifetime of talk like that, then I’m not sure I’ll survive it” admitting the eternal truth, you peeked up at him to see the reaction.

A widening grin and a hint of insecurity brewing underneath were a fascinating mix.

“Maybe you’ll get tired of me and my bullshit. And dump me for someone with the charisma of a cardboard box,”

It was the way he was so utterly wrong that made you let out a quiet laugh then. And also, the concern over his self-doubts that would need to be dealt with immediately. As the true bullshit must be treated.

“So… like Jasper?” the joke earning you a genuine burst of laughter from Neil and a tightening hold over your body “Wouldn’t count on it,” raising once again, you kissed him lightly on the lips and the tip of the nose.

As a reminder.

“Good. Because something tells me I’m a lost cause,” the sincere look causing another wave of love for him, “There’s no getting over someone like you, Miss” in response, Neil bopped your nose with his playfully.

There it is again. With curiosity peaked, you ignored the need to get lost in another kiss and chose to ask a question:

“What’s with the new nickname?” your interest betrayed only by the restless fingers trailing down his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in the shirt.

Not that you did mind. It was rather cute. And strange.

“I’m trying it out... to see how I feel about it” as usual, Neil caught your meaning with a pensive look.

For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, staring at you unseeingly. Beauty like this first thing in the morning should be made illegal. Your heart once again building up the fire that could only be extinguished by letting yourself have what you wanted. And that was rather simple.

“And?” trying to distract the intensifying thoughts, you took hold of his hand once again.

Carefully relaxing the fist, fingertips inspecting the web of veins and scars covering his palm. The long, slender fingers never failing to amaze you. A sudden reminder about the piano in his flat making everything worse. Because that would be quite a sight.

“I like it. Once we get married, I’ll amp up the game anyways,” Neil’s oblivious ramblings disrupting a detailed daydream concerning him and the piano keys.

Thankfully. It was only once you have brought yourself back to the present moment, the exact meaning of his words caught up.

“Once… not if?” that flicker of hope burning bright and steady.

It was in the way Neil studied you closely that you knew he understood. The smirk spread across his lips; eyes glimmered dangerously as he cupped your cheek:

“Why you got any other plans?” a suggestive glance at your mouth yet again.

No reason to deny it. You glanced at the phone to confirm your hopes. It was early. Enough so to spend a little bit longer in bed. Perfect.

“For now, yes,” meeting his gaze with a half-smile of your own.

Quickly untangling from the current position to provide yourself with more options. Not that he would mind how you would go about it. He never did.

“Care to share?” the want written clearly on his face, nothing but an invitation.

No verbal response needed as you straddled his lap and kissed him eagerly. Your hands followed, inching up his shirt and giving more places to study. The look full of curiosity and excitement in the blue eyes only providing more reasons to continue. More kisses. Hands exploring the familiar territory, waking up the desire, and raising the temperature. A quick fix for the addiction. Breathless moans and groans, breaking the silence of the morning hours. Gathering the courage to do what you wanted never felt this sweet.

***

Whenever Neil was busy with assigned work or training, you would wander the ship looking for something to do. A way to pass the time without triggering worrying thoughts or staring at the plans for the hundredth time. Two days were still left. And the objective was to survive them as peacefully as possible given the circumstances. You were owed as much.

That morning your feet carried you to the bridge. The quiet space offering a perfect place to settle down with the coffee and a blanket on your lap. With the panoramic windows giving an excellent view of the horizon, you could comfortably stare at the endless sky and sea. That close to the Siberian shores the only land visible were the occasional Russian islands, partially covered with snow or laid with grassy steppes. Otherwise, the emptiness could be easily overwhelming. Silence deafening. No soul nearby not belonging to your party of agents and soldiers willing to save the world from the bomb that could still go off. (Or did it already?) It was thoughts like those that caused most drama. Tiny brain worms rooting deep inside to come out at night and bother you with difficult questions and uncertainties. An ideal spark for anxiety.

Too lost in your head, you never heard the airlock open.

“Morning” you looked up, startled to see Kat take off the oxygen mask.

“Hi,” you grinned, suddenly relieved to have company.

She hesitated, eyeing your set up on the sofa and then the scene outside of the window.

“May I join?” upon your nod, she smiled and joined you on the settee, noticing wistfully, “The view from my porthole isn’t half this good”

You observed as she took in the scenery, large blue eyes full of wonder.

“This is quite something else…” you added, gaze coming back to the picturesque view.

The comfortable silence stretching out for a few minutes, when sudden thought prompted you to speak up:

“I never came to thank you for helping me back then-” the incoming apology stopped with a hand resting on your knee.

“Don’t mention it,” the reassuring smile shutting up the worries, “It was the least I could do” another pat on your knee before her grin turned wicked, “Where’s Neil?”

Caught. If it was not due to your accurate portrayal of the deer stuck in headlights, it was probably the blush that confirmed her thesis. There was no reason to pretend.

“He’s got shooting practice,” feigning nonchalance, you wondered aloud, “How do you…?” the question not needing finalization.

The look on Kat’s face nothing short of welcoming.

“I saw you on the deck during the Northern Lights,” the explanation tinting your cheeks darker “You were stood close, away from everyone else. And then you looked at him and kept on staring as though he was more beautiful than the Aurora to you” right…your breath hitched, the realization hitting with a needed kick, “I noticed you leave right after, hands holding tightly…” she trailed off, the knowing smile gracing her lips.

More beautiful than the aurora… yes, definitely. Finding words again, you chose to be honest. She saw you at your worst, offered a shoulder to lean on and a spark to light the flickering hope. To say that you were grateful was an understatement.

“We’ve managed to talk it out. Turns out he was just an idiot trying to save me while willing to ignore his feelings” thoughtlessly, a smile appeared on your face; joy uncontainable “You were right, he loves me,”

It still felt strange to say it. Even though it was true. The last time Neil told you as much was less than an hour ago. A parting affirmation as he was putting on the pullover and leaving your cabin. The new normal.

“As he should,” Kat grinned, optimism in her eyes exhilarating, “You both deserve happiness” you mirrored her smile, taking a sip from the abandoned coffee cup in a bliss-like daze, “From what I’ve seen the last few days… you’re giving him everything he was missing” the addition making your grin wider, the dangerous hope unstoppable.

Both of you went silent then, pondering on the view and what could be said. Silence comfortably stretching out and giving you a sense of companionship that you missed. While sharing thoughts and feelings with Neil was like second nature, sometimes you wished for somebody else to talk to. It was that necessity of being candid that prompted the confession:

“I like to believe that maybe now things will turn out alright somehow… but it’s difficult to keep it up with whatever awaits us at Stalsk,” the reminder settling with the anxiety cast all over your mind and heart.

The sombre turn of the conversation seemingly alright with Kat, for she eyed you closely before speaking up:

“Neil told me you’re going with him on the special unit” it was an observation.

But one that needed confirmation. The possibility to discuss it with her suddenly sounding like something you desperately wanted but never dared dream of.

“Yeah, I have to” a nod if only to reassure yourself, “Maybe it’s crazy, but I’ve got a feeling that I should be there. That it’s where I’m supposed to end up” words ringing out in the quiet space with defiance “And do whatever will be necessary to help him get out unscathed” the unsaid hanging over you, bestowing imperceptible shadow.

Kat looked at you thoughtfully; the quiet observation weighed with thousands of things that could be said. Finally, she ended the scrutiny and turned back to the horizon, breaking the silence with a comment:

“After everything I’ve seen, that’s far from crazy,” low chuckle permeating the space with a sense of faked lightness, “I’m more concerned about that part with whatever will be necessary…” the emphasis making your cheeks turn a darker shade.

Of course. She would understand what you meant. It is the only way. The belief in that one statement giving enough courage to defend your position:

“I know how it sounds. And perhaps its emotions talking… but he must survive” hiding the rising wave of emotions, you finished the lukewarm coffee, stubbornly staring at the edge of the navy sea covered with waves.

Anything but to face the attentive gaze. In the fear of losing the conviction. There was no time to falter now. Whatever would happen, you had to proceed with the plan. If not for yourself, then for Neil.

“Even if that means your sacrifice?” the question asked with a neutral tone.

The meaning simple. Taken by surprise, you looked up to meet the blue eyes staring at you inquisitively. There was no point in lying. It was another thing that you pondered on often. The question of what if. What if it comes to it and you’ll have to choose between your life and Neil’s? The answer was undeniable. Even if unspeakable.

“Yes,” a nod to assert it with all your might, “And I know he sees things the same… he told me that it’s why he’s doing it. To make sure the world won’t end taking me with it” you added, as though to validate your statement.

To show her that it was not only you who was that crazy. That perhaps what you have is something extraordinary. Worth more than anyone else can understand. Judging by the glimmer in Kat’s eyes, she knew what you were trying to say.

“I’ve only encountered love like that in fiction,” a hint of a melancholic smile on her face tugging at your heart with force.

Desperately searching for something else to say, you remembered everything Neil told you about her. Of why you were very much alike even if it did not seem so at first sight.

“You’re willing to go to similar lengths for your son. Max, right?” uncertain about the name, you hesitated.

She nodded, her expression turned serious, eyes showing the steely resilience you have seen before. A strong woman willing to do anything to save her son.

“Yes, I think… I’m not sure what’s going to happen on that bloody yacht but…” you watched as she searched for the right words, hands clenched tightly in her lap, “I’ll do what must be done to make sure Andrei doesn’t win this one” her tone turning cold, determination resounding through every syllable “He’s done enough harm,”

It was the flash of resignation passing through her gaze that caused another heartbreak. Suddenly you wished for nothing but a reckoning. Vengeance against this horrible man and the tortures he has inflicted upon Kat.

“I’m sorry,” words rolling off your tongue for the lack of anything better.

Instantly, you cursed your awkwardness, ready to come up with something different, when a hand placed on your forearm stopped the panicked stream of thoughts.

“Don’t be,” she squeezed your palm quickly before saying, “I hate it when people look at me with pity. The poor woman who married a monster. I want to be seen as a victor, not a victim,” the confession carrying with it a rising sense of strength.

Because she certainly was a victor. Someone to admire for the resistance and unyielding force of will. To be good and to put her son’s life before hers. That was something to aspire to. A quote from a few years back resonated through your head as you commented:

“Nevertheless, she persisted,” the mysterious smile spreading on your lips upon seeing Kat’s surprise.

And then she beamed. Gratefulness better than anything else you could ask for.

“Yes, exactly,” a nod, hope shining bright in her eyes, “Maybe this is my chance,”

Using the quiet moment, she stood up and wandered over to the panoramic window. The sun has begun to shine through the low clouds, adding a little more charm to the view. A tiny bit of optimism. Because maybe… With her back turned to you and the increasing sense of courage, you spoke up:

“You’ve already won. You’ve survived a wound like that… and you’re here, free from him. That for me is being victorious” finishing the sentence, you wavered.

When Kat turned back to face you with a smile full of gratitude and eyes shining with happy tears, you knew it was worth it.

***

The early afternoon before the very last night proceeding the battle was difficult. Left to your own devices, you have been idly sitting in the cabin, pondering on the various ways to stop the anxious thoughts. Even for a minute. But all the ways you could come up with either involved seeking out Neil, who has been hired to give the soldiers a quick physics-related pep talk, brushing up on their inverted combat skills and how to survive on the battlefield when the forces of gravity work against you. The other coping method you came up with had to do with spending hours in the shooting ground again. And there were hardly any bullets left for training, with stocks reserved strictly for operational use. Limits set by yourself as per order. Not omittable.

That is how you have found yourself setting up the hastily packed speaker (because why not?) in the small sparring ground in the training zone. You have changed into comfortable sweatpants and a tank top, deciding to use up the excess of energy in chilled solo sparring of sorts. It mostly consisted of finding proper bops and prancing around the space, trying out different kicks and punches Ives taught you. It was easy to get lost, feeling the rhythm, setting the pace, and choosing the right kind of moves to deal with the invisible opponents. A backfist here, roundhouse kick there. An attempt at a flying kick just because the guitar solo got you a little bit too entranced. That one ended with a groan, face flat on the mat. Thankfully there was no one to see.

You got lost in the movement, music drowning out everything else, until it was just you, your body in the fluid movements and the breaths punctuating the silence. Aiming a perfect backhander, you turned around only to freeze when your eyes landed on the intruder leaning on the plastic screen separating the spaces. Impeccable grin and a shrug answering your wide gaze. Blue eyes appreciatively sweeping across your body. Nothing new there for him. You stared back, heavy breaths catching up after minutes of intense practice. After what seemed like an eternity, Neil’s smile widened as he pushed himself up and crossed the distance.

Hands landing on your waist, without a second wasted, he pulled you closer, forcefully enough to draw out a startled yelp. That was rather unexpected. You barely had time to comprehend anything when he kissed you with hunger. On reflex, your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as you opened your mouth to let him in. Teeth clanked when Neil reached out for more than you could offer, breath caught in your throat, unprepared for something like this. The need resonating through your tangled bodies as you let the stream of feelings take you under. Temperance forgotten as Neil tugged on your lower lip, bruising the skin and softening the damage with his tongue. You moaned, the sound getting lost in the haze of sudden frenzy. As though you were bound to die tomorrow, and this was the last chance to show each other the love you feel.

It was that thought that prompted you to break away. In search of oxygen mostly.

“Wow…” you gazed up at him, feigning nonchalance, “Thought we agreed on no PDA in the public spaces,” the stern glare breaking underneath the lovesick smile you could not hold back.

Because, after a kiss like that, how could you?

Neil shrugged, keeping his hands firmly on your waist, thumb gently stroking your side through the shirt. There was no remorse in those eyes, only fondness, and mischief. Whatever brought him here was bound to end in trouble. Perhaps that was the distraction you were seeking…

“It’s not my fault you’re stood here looking like this” another admiring look over your figure, finishing with a quirked smile and a pull to bring you closer once again.

It was difficult to deny him anything.

“Like what?” arching an eyebrow you searched his eyes for clues.

Up close, you could fully marvel at his long eyelashes and the exact colour of his eyes. The darker rim encircling the blue-grey depths, pulling you in and making you fall even harder. You always should have known that it was inevitable. There was no escape from eyes like those.

“Irresistible,” the word, falling from his lips in a pious whisper.

Inches left between your faces, gravity doing its work in bringing your nearer. Nothing left to do but breach the gap and kiss him, another way of thanking him for the compliment and getting the fix for the addiction. Now there was no need to hold back, after all.

“Huh…” you grinned, catching your breath once more, “How did you find me?” taking a step back to stop the temptation.

Because perhaps that was enough. The rest could continue in the privacy of your room. Whatever that might be.

“Intuition, mostly” Neil swept his gaze around the room, focusing on the speaker laying in the corner “And a little bit of luck since only you could be listening to ‘Big in Japan’ while training” his eyes narrowed, cheeky smirk dangling in the corner of his mouth.

Ah. The song choice coming back with a vengeance as you blushed for no reason.

“What’s wrong with Alphaville? That’s a banger,” the defence coming with an unnecessary but satisfying push aimed at the center of his chest.

Working perfectly, if the surprised gasp was anything to go by. He only needed a second to recover, the sparks in his eyes telling you that the response was bound to be quite something, and you better prepare.

“I’m not saying it’s not. Only that this is very much in character for the woman I’m honoured to call my girlfriend” a wink perfecting the delivery.

Yep, on point. Your face warmed up a notch, happiness almost incomprehensible.

“Ain’t you smug” masking the softness with sarcasm, you attempted a harsh glare.

However, all the intent crumbled the moment your speaker started playing the next song via shuffle. The soft piano, opening the ballad with a flourish. Nothing but corniness of the 90s and a love song to defy any other. As Bryan Adams started singing out the first lines in his husky tone, you groaned. Fuck you, Spotify.

“I didn’t take you to be this sentimental” Neil eyed you closely, mirth betrayed by the barely contained laughter.

Using the weapon you have been hoarding for too long, you aimed to school your features before noticing:

“Well… wise man once told me that we’ve all got our weaknesses…” the meaningful gaze doing the job as Neil grinned.

“Very wise, indeed,” the self-satisfied expression only deepening.

Before you could perceive his movements, he closed the distance, took your hand in his, and placed the other palm on your shoulder blade. Following instincts you did not even know you had, you hastily put your hand on his bicep in the ballroom dance position you have seen on tv. What the hell.

“What are you doing?” question coming out breathless as you stumbled to fall into the correct steps following his lead.

Lead to a slow waltz, of all things.

“Using the opportunity,” Neil adjusted the pace, letting you feel the rhythm before continuing, “Haven’t you ever dreamt of waltzing with the love of your life in a glitzy ballroom?”

It was the nonchalance that caught you. The way he said it without a stutter. As though he has used the words before, perhaps in the quiet of his mind or in a conversation.

“Maybe I have,” forcing the doubts to shut up you chose the noncommittal answer for the moment.

Letting your eyes speak instead as you met his steady gaze. A flash of a gentle smile and a thumb tenderly stroking your shoulder blade. Calming down and grounding within the moment.

“I know I did,” the affirmation added to the mix, complete with the kiss on your forehead.

'Look into your heart – you will find

There's nothin' there to hide

Take me as I am, take my life

I would give it all, I would sacrifice'

Bryan Adams kept on crooning as you moved slowly across the room. The relatable meaning of the words sung out making you hide your head in the crook of Neil’s neck, disrupting the formality of your position. Turning the waltz into a slow dance by making Neil pull you closer. He tightened his hold, fingers carefully stroking your skin, the contact keeping up the spark alive. A few more slides across space, your feet following his without hesitation. The synchronization perfect in the matched tempo. It was surprisingly easy to find the right rhythm; perhaps the chemistry did its work in that aspect too.

It was only once the song has reached the guitar solo part that you have managed to break the comfortable silence with a comment:

“This is… nice,” the adjective being the only one you could come up with.

All the other words disappearing one by one, dissolved in the wave of feelings. Happiness, most of all. And love you never imagined existing, let alone to experience. Neil chuckled lowly, his chin resting comfortably on the top of your head.

“Mhmm… Remember how we’ve first met?” the question catching you off guard.

Enough to miss one step and earn a little ‘tsk’ from him.

“Of course, why?” the audacity of the assumption frustrating.

As if. Because even now, you sometimes found yourself reminiscing on that day. The conversation, seemingly innocent, and yet have led you to this point. To everything you did not even know you were missing but now could not live without.

“Even then… when we were chatting over the coffee, I was intrigued,” the wistfulness in Neil’s voice causing long-forgotten questions to resurface.

You have never discussed that day in detail. But maybe that would be the chance. Gathering up the courage, you waited until you have completed the spin around the room to admit:

“Me too… I’ve always wondered… what was it when you’ve eyed me and said I’ll pass the training without issues? Just flirting?” curiosity creeping into your voice.

Not going unnoticed and acknowledged with a thoughtful hum. That was another thing you have thought of. Back then, his gaze only increased the interest. Now, knowing it was not only you that had many impressions after the meeting, it was harder to ignore.

“That was one of the few times when I broke my own rules of looking at people objectively” the explanation given with the needed depth “I always try to be respectable… to see everyone for their minds rather than their bodies” unasked, your heart let out a painful thump in awe over him “But with you, I- I guess my fascination got ahead of me” sudden shyness surprising, causing you to disrupt the dance by freezing in the spot “I was right, in the end” Neil met your questioning gaze with an apologetic expression.

That alone vouching for a kiss and a reassuring squeeze of a hand. You gladly accepted an invitation back into his embrace and another slow dance. Spotify proving itself useful with the next song choice – ‘Forever Young’. By Alphaville, again.

Neil’s snicker was met with a glare on your side and a light step on his foot, for good measure. It took you another few seconds to let the doubts speak up again:

“Was that really enough for you to see me? That one afternoon?” once the questions started, there was no end to them in your mind.

“Yes,” no hesitation on his side “Trust me, I was surprised too, but with every passing day I was thinking about you more. And now I know why” a nuzzle to the top of your head before he asked, “What about you?” inquisitiveness almost hidden by the neutral tone.

Might as well show your hand. Laying a small kiss on the side of his neck, you began:

“I’m not sure… I was curious about you” an understatement but always something, “You seemed so different and charming, like no one I’ve ever met before. And obviously, I had to acknowledge that you’re handsome as hell but… then I saw you flirt with Anna, and I thought that you’re one of those” the admission coming out with the resigned edge you did not fully intend.

It was quickly extinguished with a spectacular dip and a pirouette that managed to knock the breath out of your lungs and the thoughts out of your brain. Nothing but Neil left. As usual.

“I see… mind you, I was flirting with her only because I didn’t know how to talk to you yet” he carried on the conversation without a hitch.

Interesting.

“Did it matter?” you raised your head to be able to see his face for this one.

As though he was expecting scrutiny, Neil met your gaze with a steady look and a confident smile.

“Surprisingly, yes. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” the intensity of the eye contact increasing.

The song starting to fade out amidst its 80s glory, the last of the synthesizer giving out its swan song with the needed cringe. Your dance slowing down to a small two-step, prolonging the moment a little longer.

“Which would be?” another question, because why the hell not.

Using your momentum, Neil slipped his fingers underneath the strap of your tank top, grin widening once he realised the lack of bra. The familiar sparks, making you wonder about wherever this was bound to lead you. About what could happen. A vague idea formed in your head, needing only closure to the chat.

“That I’m not serious,” Neil’s response bringing you back to the moment.

All the movement stopping, leaving you standing in an embrace in the middle of the space.

“Are you?” just a final test.

Even though you did not need an answer, everything that happened within the last days proving time and time again that he was in it hundred percent. That finally you have found the one.

“Very much so, my love” stepping out of the hold, Neil tipped your chin.

The depth of adoration in his gaze only bringing out fierce blush and the deepening softness threatening to make you melt on the spot from too many feelings and too much happiness coursing through your veins. Enough. For now.

You grinned at Neil as a means of accepting his answer and took a definitive step away from him, noticing the curious look on his face. Ignoring it for the moment, you quickly searched through the library to pick up something a little more appropriate. And less cringe. As you pressed play on the right playlist and faced Neil again, the smile you saw told you he had ideas towards your next suggestion:

“Do you want to join me for a little sparring?” you approached him slowly, the unexpected nerves making an appearance, “We’ve never done that together, and maybe… you can say no of course but-” as you faltered, the plan seemed to make less and less sense every passing second.

Because perhaps there was a reason why he never suggested it. Or perhaps, it was not something he would want to do with you, his girlfriend, of all people. Maybe-

“I’d love to,” the answering smile reassuring enough to let you know that all your issues have been noticed, “Don’t pull your punches just because it’s me” Neil closed the gap and took your hand in his with a wink.

There was no way of stopping that grin from appearing on your face. Tightening the hold over his hand, you made sure to put on the most intimidating expression in your arsenal.

“You wish, sunshine,” a kiss on the cheek just because, followed by a wink to tip off his mirroring smile.

Let the games begin or something. You watched as Neil took off the pullover, leaving him in the t-shirt, and joined you on the mat. The final thought was that this sort of activity could end in many ways. Some of them rather intriguing. However, all distractions had to be left behind if you were to win this one. Which was easier said than done, as you eyed your opponent, coming up with the strategy. Because of those damned blue eyes and fascinating body proportions that were hard to ignore, no matter the circumstances.

With the final nod, it began. You crossed the space to aim a kick at Neil’s shin, using the element of surprise and height difference. As you hit the mark, he let out a surprised yelp and glared at you offendedly. A giggle escaped your throat as you made sure to put up the guard, expecting retaliation to follow. And it did. A lighter kick in your ankle, and then an attempt at punch towards your shoulder. That one, thankfully blocked, with your rendition of the shooting daggers.

The sparring followed this rhythm for a couple of minutes, drenching your shirt with sweat and increasing the adrenaline with every move. As it proved, Neil was an excellent partner for that too. Your dynamic working perfectly as you bounced off the different techniques and styles, learning from each other in progress. Soon it became a matter of prediction, of staring at him intently to determine the very next step and to block it efficiently. A few mistakes resulted in bruises here and there, but it was nothing compared to the elation flowing through your veins. The occasional compliments and teases interrupted the flow, bringing out more feelings than you ever deemed possible to exist. At once. Joy, excitement, fatigue, and desire slowly combining into the strangest mix inside your head.

Because one thing was certain – it was increasingly difficult to ignore the way it felt when Neil got close. His strong arms, usually acting as your refuge, now a barrier you had to get through to win this battle. The closeness intoxicating as you tried to wrestle out of his hold, imposed by using the moment of hesitation on your side. But then who was to blame you for getting lost in his eyes? Again. With his chest pressed against your back and the forearms blocking any form of movement, you decided to put it all on the card of fate, hooking your leg around his in an attempt at a backflip taught by Ives. That was another fatal mistake.

You only realised how badly you have fucked up when you opened your eyes to see Neil peering down at you with the most annoying of grins painted on his face. Eyes sparkling with satisfaction that certainly should not be there. Shit. He got you pinned to the mat with hands trapping you underneath him. Not much space between your bodies. A fierce blush bloomed on your cheeks; embarrassment combined with sudden arousal once the exact placement of your limbs sunk in. The earlier misstep resulted in having your legs wound tightly around his waist and crossed over the back. Just like-

“This position is rather… familiar” the husky whisper broke through the sudden onset of feelings and thoughts as you met his gaze.

The darkness of the irises and the boundless depths of desire you found there providing the missing piece in the puzzle. The heat turning up a notch. Unable to break the eye contact, you watched in fascination as Neil seemed to consume you on the spot. His pupils widened, betraying the feelings reigning free over his mind as he contemplated the very next move. Frozen, you could only wait helplessly, feeling the well-known tension rise, causing havoc in your head. Still, what he chose to do next, caught you off guard.

He leaned in and captured your lips in an eager kiss, easily stealing away the breath and distracting you from anything else in the whole world. As you opened your mouth for him without hesitation, Neil used the moment to strike. His tongue caressed yours in exact opposition to the way his hips jutted forward, creating friction. The surprising ploy, drawing out a gasp and making you break the kiss with a telling hiss. The answering mischievous smirk the only warning before he did it again, rocking his body forward against yours, upping up the temperature, and making the warmth pool in your lower stomach instantly. The wetness, collecting on your underwear and sticking to the skin in an impulse you could not control.

“Jesus, Neil- You can’t just-” frustration poured out in incoherent sentences as you fought for sanity.

He, naturally, took that as the cue to up his game. The deadly smile was the last thing you saw before he bowed down, tongue darting out to lick down your neck and then cover the space with kisses. A groan escaped through your lips as you grabbed onto his biceps in search of support. A logical part of the brain told you to stop the madness (and drag him to your room to continue), but that voice could be barely heard through the overwhelming haze. More kisses, teeth grazing over the skin, hands slipping underneath your top, and using the lack of bra to cause more drama.

The added touch onto your breasts was what defeated the sanity and caused you to roll your hips against his, matching up the tempo in the frantic attempts at getting something out of it.

“Fuck” heaving out the curse, you could not stop the moan caused by Neil sucking on your pulse point below the ear.

All the reasons against continuing something this good disappeared one by one. The synced-up movement, making you breathless within seconds. The arousal, seeping through the underwear, only increasing with the way you could feel Neil react to it as well. The telling signs of his lust rubbing off against your crotch upon every thrust. Getting ever harder to ignore with sounds breaking up the forgotten sparring soundtrack.

“That good?” Neil’s question dripping with need as he rasped out the words upon your hungry kiss stolen in the moment of eagerness.

No point in holding back now. Grasping onto his chin to stop him from distracting you with yet another trick, you made sure to show the extent of want raging in your veins:

“It would be without all the bloody clothes in the way” piecing the sentence, you huffed with dissatisfaction.

Because after something like this, you wanted him. No, needed him. Anything to finally release the tension and catch the high. Because, as you began to discover, it was too easy to get addicted to him. To the pleasure, he always seemed happy to give you. To being wanted and needed like never before.

Even now, Neil seemed entranced, eyes searching your face for something. Whatever he needed, you delivered with the want in the unguarded look, for he grinned and nudged your nose with his.

“I like seeing you this needy, darling” choosing no mercy whatsoever he stole yet another hungry kiss.

All the while keeping up the friction. As if you could ignore the feelings building up for a minute longer.

Using the opportunity, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and tugged at it with force. Drawing out blood and groans. A punishment. To strengthen the effect, you made sure to tangle your fingers in his hair, imposing light pressure. Enough to make him suffer a little more, but not as bad as to make him more predatory. That was another thing learned in the past days. You were right Neil had a hair thing. And using it right could work to your advantage. With satisfaction, you broke the kiss and watched as he opened his eyes, unfocused gaze and shallow breaths giving the needed bravery.

“Bastard,” you whispered and used his moment of hesitation to initiate the retaliation.

The answering smug smile giving more reasons to push on with the plan. With the full attention provided, you slowly licked your lips. A trick that always worked, making Neil stare with that same look of starvation hidden in his eyes. It was the confidence you were seeking to hook your leg around his and find the impetus to complete the switch in one smooth attempt.

It worked. You comfortably straddled his lap, pinning him to the floor. Only a shocked gasp told you he caught up with the change. You met his gaze smugly, using the new position to run your fingers up and down his chest, light teasing included in the act of vengeance. The answering groan more than gratifying, making you even happier to give him the taste of his own medicine and roll your hips forward.

“I like this new development,” Neil breathed out the comment, hands settling on your hips, “You know what, though? I’d love to see you snap one day. Get annoyed by my antics and punish me” it was the way he said it that made you freeze with one hand already underneath his shirt.

As though it was exactly what he wanted. Interesting…

“Is that what you’re into?” arching one eyebrow, you trailed your nails over the skin on his chest.

Watching the goosebumps with fascination. The light bruises on the sides reminding you of the morning the day prior and the sudden passion that resulted in marks all over your bodies.

“I’m into you, but yes,” Neil observed you with strange pensiveness, “Even a man like me needs to be dominated from time to time,” the challenge in his eyes already inspiring scenarios within your mind.

“That can be sorted then” you winked and used that moment to stand up, leaving him on the floor with mouth open wide.

Perfect. Grinning, you brushed off the dust from your clothes and strode over to the speaker, ignoring Neil pointedly. Only an exasperated sigh told you he managed to pick himself up. Using the towel, you wiped off the remains of sweat from your brow and turned back to him with a neutral expression:

“I’ll go shower,” you quickly eyed him, taking in the ruffled hair and flushed cheeks, “I’d ask you to join me… but I don’t want to traumatise anyone using the communal bathroom for that” a meaningful look making sure he understood.

The slight double-take all the needed confirmation. Neil swallowed hard, as though the suggestion was enough to make the images appear before his eyes. But then he flashed you a confident smile.

“Fret not once we’re back home, we’ll catch up on that. I’ve got that spacious shower for a reason,” a tiny shrug as though to make you remember.

Right. Another thing to add to the bucket list, no doubt. However, for now, you were not done with the taunting. He did deserve it.

“I see… do you often use it for those kinds of purposes?” draping the towel around your neck, you strolled towards him with an inquisitive look.

Another shrug. Hands reaching out to be placed on your waist and to draw you closer, keeping that one metre of space just for show. His eyes searched yours with feigned nonchalance before responding:

“Not really. But with you, I want to change that up a little. After all, I’ve got to convince you that having sex with you is wonderful,” followed with a nose nudge and a smirk.

For once, there was no shyness. Mirroring his moves, you put your hands on his sides, thumbs slowly stroking the hipbones, pulling him closer. Once your bodies were flush against each other, you grinned:

“Mutually” and then, upon noticing the well-known beat coming from the speaker, “One might even say you’ve brought the sexy back” a wink, using the lack of inhibitions in the air.

The answering gaping mouth and eyes widened in shock were good enough indicators that whatever this mood was, it should continue. After a second of confusion, Neil started laughing hysterically, collapsing against you with ease:

“… Jesus Christ,” he choked out the words, drawing you into a skewed hug if only to preserve the closeness.

The sudden outburst of happiness was not controllable even if you wanted. Giggling quietly, you waited for him to calm down, running your fingers up his back in a soothing manner. Once his laughs eased, you whispered:

“Sorry, blame that on JT” an apologetic shrug followed with a chaste kiss pressed to his temple.

The cheerful sparks in his eyes, telling all you could need to know. Thanks, universe.

“No, I love it” Neil’s words brought you back to the present moment as he took your hands in his “I love you,” the sincere confession breaking up the ridiculous atmosphere with tenderness.

“You better” your smile widened as you squeezed his hands in a non-verbal response.

It was only once you were heading out of the room, after at least three passionate kisses and some more infatuated gazing, that Neil chose to pick up the abandoned line of teasing.

“Make sure to think of me during your shower” you turned around, mouth open wide “For inspiration. I’ll be waiting” there was no mistaking the look in his eyes or the intentions behind it.

There was nothing left to do but walk out with cheeks burning red and head too empty to do anything but what he proposed.

For a good purpose, as the afternoon then showed you.

***

With the night falling on the last day before the fourteenth and the battle, you could feel the internal darkness creeping with every passing hour. By the early bedtime, there was nowhere to hide. Laying on the bed and waiting for Neil to come back from his shower, you could do nothing but stare at the ceiling blankly. Thousands of worries, questions, and scenarios multiplying in your head, threatening to steal away the remains of peace. It felt as though the curtain has fallen over your blissful days, leaving nothing but uncertainty. Because God knows what would happen at Stalsk. The plan was one thing, perfect execution - a different one.

With lungs failing to expand properly you considered getting up and marching outside to let the cold air give you something else to worry about. That is when the door to your cabin finally opened, and Neil walked in. A sight for sore eyes personified. Mindless of your struggles, he sent you a smile before placing the morning outfit on the chair. It became a ritual of sorts, with him bringing back the change of clothes to prolong the waking up period and stay in bed with you. Despite the anxiety rising exponentially, you could not help but smile at the tradition upheld on the eve of the battle. You watched in silence as he took off trousers and placed his phone on the bedside table. It was only once he sat down on the bed and faced you with fondness in his eyes that you knew the act of staring has been caught.

“Alright?” Neil reached out and tipped your chin to make sure you could not hide.

Gently his fingers caressed your jaw and down the neck, soothing the nerves and asserting his presence. You leaned into his touch and whispered the white lie:

“Yeah…” desperate to extend the bliss even a second longer, you joked lightly, “Was beginning to worry you’ve decided to ditch me tonight” shifting forward, you rested your forehead against his.

Closing your eyes and letting the feeling of being wanted envelope you in its sweet embrace.

“You wish,” the tint of joy in his voice adding on to the perfection of the moment, “There’s no getting rid of me that easily” Neil tucked the hair behind your ear, stroking your temple slowly in the process.

It felt almost unreal to have someone love you like that. So carefully, yet with a passion that did not seem to wane. The only thing left was to believe it. And let your feelings lead the way. You opened your eyes to find Neil staring back with the softest of smiles gracing his features. That was enough to whisper back the answer:

“What a shame,” and capture his lips in a hungry kiss.

Knowing the moves by heart, you have tangled your fingers in his hair and opened the mouth to deepen the kiss. It was always too simple, an act of devotion and a drug you could not imagine giving up. Each brush of his tongue against yours bringing sparks of electricity and pleasure, a promise of so much more only waiting to be taken.

Without breaking up the contact, you shifted to lie on top of Neil, stealing small pecks interrupted with smiles and sighs. Not knowing what bliss feels like, you assumed it must be like this. Because nothing seemed to come close to the feeling of being loved and wanted by him. To feeling the steady heartbeat as you pressed up against him in the closest of embraces. To having him grin against your mouth, interrupting the kisses with happy giggles, and stroking your back underneath the shirt in a simple act of tenderness.

It was once you felt his touch tread onto that well-known territory bridging the line between want and intimacy that you leaned back to meet his gaze. Slight confusion found in the blue eyes as you fell back onto your side and took his hand in yours:

“Can we… not do this tonight?” the tentative whisper broke the silence as your nerves spoke up again.

Because despite never having enough of Neil, tonight you wanted something innocent. Something easy. Asking for it felt almost wrong as if it could be too much. With the countless worries anchoring within your mind, you focused all your attention on studying his hand attentively. The thin scars scattered across the skin. Neatly trimmed fingernails and elegant fingers betraying the sensitive nature of the man you loved without any inhibitions. Neil as always noticed the sudden shyness, for he kissed you on the forehead before answering:

“Of course,” the affirmation given without a stutter, as he retracted his palm from underneath your clothes, “What do you need?” with the free hand cupping your cheek, he forced you to meet his gaze again.

Concern and affection. All the needed encouragement to speak your mind. To reach out for everything he wanted to give you.

“Hold me, please,” forcing out an uncertain smile, you wound your arms around his waist, snuggling in to find the perfect position.

But it was not enough.

“How do you want me?” the question asked with the glimmer in his eyes that told you he remembered the night from London.

Months ago, while also something that has not happened yet. Linearly, that is.

“Closer” this time, the answer could not have been simpler.

Neil accepted it with a hint of a smug smile as he pulled you close. Spreading his legs for yours to fit in-between. Hips flush against each other, heartbeat synced. Hands clinging to the warmth of your skin, his lips pressed against your temple. No inch of space left. Exactly as you needed.

With the brain strangely quiet, you breathed in his scent, letting the reality catch up. Yours. The soothing warmth of the embrace and solidity of his body underneath your fingertips making you feel safe. Even if only for the moment.

A short moment? Prompted by the harsh reminder of time running out mercilessly, you tensed and splayed your hand over his heart. A clear signal for Neil to tighten the hold and nuzzle your temple. Waiting for the words to come spilling out of your heart.

And they did.

“I- There’s so much goddamn noise in my head, and it’s beginning to drive me mad” after finishing the sentence breathlessly, you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

Smelling the bergamot and hints of your perfume, increasing the love held within your system. Following the instincts, Neil started running his fingertips up the curve of your spine, giving you something to focus on. The steadiness of the movement grounding you back in the present.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” the soft tone melting the edges of sharp blades penetrating your mind with anxiety, “I can’t stop the thoughts, but I’ll make sure you know I’m not going anywhere,” confirming the meaning, he took hold of your hand lying on his chest and laced the fingers.

Another way of showing support. Of letting you believe your luck. Nothing left but to press a kiss to his neck and whisper:

“Thank you… We’ll be alright, won’t we?” the question forcing itself on your tongue.

Because it was all that mattered. For you and Neil to survive. To have time to love each other. But… tomorrow is promised to no one. The counterarguments preparing to strike with force as they assembled at the bottom of your heart. You could die tomorrow. That was a fact, as true as the knowledge that the world could end. The bomb could go off. This could be the last moment of peace you would have. And there was no way of knowing whether it was. The fear creeping in with nothing to stop it.

“I hope so,” as though sensing the growing unease, Neil raised your joined hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

You need not look at him to know what you would find in his beautiful eyes. It was the knowledge of feelings reciprocated that gave you the courage to speak the truth. To reassert what he already knew. Just because it could be the last time.

“Earlier today, after we’ve… I’ve realised that… I’ve never been more in love,” stumbling through the sentence, you whispered the confession against his skin, “And I don’t want it to end” a deep breath to gain back the momentum “I need you, Neil. You’re everything I have…” you faltered, feeling tears blur the edges of your vision.

As if your heart knew something you did not. As if being this vulnerable was the trigger you were seeking. There was much more you could tell him, but no words were found for it. Instead, you felt the embrace tighten as Neil kissed the tip of your ear tenderly.

“We’ll be alright, my love,” the endearment getting lost in the quietest of sniffles “I’ll make sure of it” he hesitated, the edge of your breakdown impacting him too with the emotions betrayed in every syllable, “And I don’t know if it needs saying, but… You’re my everything too. I’m not going to give up on us,” the definitive promise offering all the strength for you to raise your head.

Tears shining in your eyes as your gazes met. Worth fighting for.

***

The feeling of safety gave way to worries not longer than an hour after you finally gave in to sleep. Gasping, you opened your eyes in a flash after a particularly terrifying and confusing nightmare full of inverted rounds and ticking bombs. Blindly you rolled over to the side where you would usually find Neil, only for your hands to clutch at nothingness. Shit. The realization working better than any alarm clock as you sat up and turned on the lamp.

Empty room. Darkness outside. Neil’s phone left by the bed. Next to it a piece of paper torn out of a notebook:

“Couldn’t sleep. Find me on the bridge if you need me. Yours, N.”

The initial tugged on your heartstrings as you quickly made up your mind. It was only past one. And there was hardly any chance of going to sleep now. Without him by your side and with the brain haunted by terrifying dreams. You stood up and quickly got dressed in the hoodie he left the day before and joggers.

The moment you stepped outside the cabin corridor, the silence and cold hit you with their starkness. Usually, at this hour, the icebreaker would be alive with the sounds of the crew and troops getting ready for the night. There would be groups chatting in the mess or the galley. Soldiers catching late-night sparring sessions or betting on who would get more bullseye shots at the shooting range. Not tonight, though.

Without stumbling upon a single soul, you walked over to the bridge. Cold hands clutched together in the hoodie pocket. Untangling only to deal with the zip by the airlock.

Once you crossed the threshold, you knew you were in the right place. The silence finally interrupted with voices. Most importantly, with the sound of Neil explaining something in those soft tones that always brought you peace. The darkness of the room enlightened by the single fluorescent above the empty table. Kat was sat in the chair opposite him, focused on what he was saying. As you took off the oxygen mask with a quiet sigh, they both turned to you. Neil brightened up in a flash, a soft smile lightening up his face as he reached out for your hand. You sent Kat a shy nod as you let your boyfriend pull you down onto the sofa:

“Hello,” she grinned, giving you both a satisfied once-over.

The echo of the conversation you had the day before ringing out in the spaces between words. Nothing left but to relax into the pillows and give them both an apologetic shrug:

“Hi… Hope I’m not interrupting” you watched as they shared an amused look, followed by Kat getting up to make tea.

You knew instantly what this was. A moment of privacy.

“Never” Neil’s voice made you turn to him only to see the affection pouring out from his gaze.

Gently he took hold of your ice-cold hands and warmed them up between his palms with care. It was too easy to feel the love fill your chest again. As if switched back on whenever Neil was nearby. Somehow the darkness felt less frightening with him by your side. After a beat, you answered the unasked question:

“I woke up without you, and…” trailing off, you looked at Kat pouring water from the kettle into the mugs.

She seemed entirely focused on the task, mindless of your conversation. Using the encouragement, you moved closer to Neil and captured his lips in a quick kiss. He responded instantly, placing his hand on your cheek to draw you nearer and take whatever you wanted to give him. This time, because of company, the contact ended in a happy sigh a few seconds later as you pressed your forehead against his for a moment. Just enough to share a look of love and a shy grin. Hearing the unmistakable sound of teaspoon clanking in the mug, you leaned back, away from him yet keeping your hands locked in the space between you on the sofa.

“Sorry. I couldn’t fall asleep and didn’t want to wake you. So, I came here and stumbled upon Kat,” Neil explained, breaking the silence and acknowledging the other woman with a sympathetic nod.

Using that line as her cue to turn back to you, Kat handed you both warm mugs. Only a grateful grin could be given before you took a sip and let the tea melt the remains of ice that settled in your chest. With the comfortable silence setting in, you asked:

“Nerves?” giving the woman a quick once over, it was easy to determine that she too has been struggling with the night-time demons.

The shadows under her eyes, hands clutching tightly at the mug as if to find comfort in the warmth it provided. Making you appreciate the hand holding yours even more than you deemed possible.

“Yeah,” Kat swallowed hard, her gaze focusing on the darkness outside “Suppose it’s nothing for you, in a business like this but… I’ve never had to deal with a world-ending situation. Let alone have it depend on me. Partially” she finished the confession with eyebrows knitted together.

“In truth… neither did I” Neil leaned forward, the sombre look in his eyes settling on Kat, “Sure there were some missions of a bigger caliber than a few boxes of inverted artillery smuggled across Scotland… but nothing exactly like this” hiding grin caused by his answer, you took a longer sip of tea.

There was something incredibly true about him at this moment. Discussing the topics of deadly nature yet adding jokes and anecdotes to keep you all that one step away from despair. Tightening the hold over his hand, you added:

“The grand plan,” murmuring the words you once heard TP say, you reflected, “I bet my uni professors would never quite believe it if I told them that this is where international relations got me” feeling Neil’s gaze, you turned to look at him.

A crooked smile and hair falling into his eyes. Perfection.

“More like fate,” he countered, thumb running over your knuckles absentmindedly.

Biting down on your lip to stop yourself from grinning too widely, you nodded:

“That too,” or I’d like to believe it is.

After a beat, you both faced Kat again, only to encounter her knowing smile, curling the lips with a sharp edge of steel. Then her expression softened as though realising the reality once again.

“Are you scared? Of having to do this… together?” it was the hesitancy that helped you understand the meaning.

You knew Neil caught up too, for her moved an inch closer. Shoulder to shoulder, knees touching. No unnecessary gaps. Together. Just when you thought of answering her question, Neil cleared his throat:

“A little… It’s like… on the one hand, I’m glad we’ll be on the same team, as then I can keep an eye on you” he gave you a little shoulder bump as if to accentuate the addressee, “But then I’ve always been warned about being emotionally compromised during missions. Trouble is I’ve been compromised like that for months, at least” an apologetic shrug to complete the sentence.

He was not even looking at you. Yet, it was too easy to understand what he meant. An excuse for the warmth to settle in your heart again. Months. More reasons to keep fighting for the future.

“Sorry,” returning the nudge, you frowned, “On my side, ever since you came up with this idiotic idea to deal with the lock, I knew I’d follow. Because there’s no way in hell, I’d let you do it alone. But, as you say, the element of emotional compromise is there. God knows I’m terrified of whatever might happen,” the ramblings only stopping because you have run out of breath, “It’s like… when you’re young, and you want to change the world. Sometimes you even begin to believe that it’s going to be your purpose. To be the hero and save the day. But most people grow out of that and never even get the chance” ending the observation, you noticed the two pairs of eyes focused on you.

Kat’s light blue gaze, staring wistfully, nothing but understanding and melancholy. As if whatever you said triggered something deep within the confines of her heart. As if she was grateful.

Neil looked as though he could not quite believe you existed. As though your words made him fall even harder. And then he shook himself awake again, clutching your hand tightly.

“But we do” he nodded lightly, offering support should you need it.

Letting you know that the fate of the world was not only on your shoulders. We. That pronoun again. In response, you could only give back the voice to those things that you still wanted to share with them:

“Yes, exactly. And the child that still occupies parts of my heart… she’s excited to be the hero. While grown-up me is just terrified of the stakes” staring at the dark horizon, you noticed quietly, “Never did I dream of saving the world from an inverted atomic bomb-”

“-Well, actually-” Neil interjected with his picture-perfect, MA in Physics tone, making you roll your eyes affectionately.

Idiot. You exchanged an exasperated grin with Kat before stopping him from starting up a lecture about the details of the Algorithm with a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Shut up, mister smarty-pants” your smile widened at the shocked look in his eyes before you lifted your hand and continued, “But at the same time it makes sense… sort of” faltering, you looked around the space looking for something else to say.

“I know what you mean. I never expected any of this to happen to me, but now that it did… I guess I should’ve seen it coming” Kat had your back, agreeing with your words with the same sense of apprehension in her voice.

It was easy to tell what she meant. The guilt entirely unnecessary yet unavoidable for someone this good. Your need of protest got cut short by Neil:

“Kat, don’t blame yourself for not knowing what Andrei is doing. None of that is your fault” upon her pained look he gave her a reassuring smile to confirm the sentiment.

“It’s easier said than done… but thank you” she offered him a weak attempt at a smile and then looked at you with sparks in her eyes, “You got yourself quite the catch there,” a tiny nod in the direction of the blonde man.

Indeed. Unable to stop the happiness rising in your chest, you countered her look with a smug grin of your own:

“I know” ignoring the blush spreading across Neil’s cheeks, you patted him on the head, “He’s incredible,” an appreciative look at your boyfriend and the free hand placed on his knee.

That woke him up.

“He? I’ve got a name, you know,” the feigned spitefulness making a giggle rise in your throat.

Neil glared at you, the act only betrayed by the very way the corner of his mouth curled up, disrupting the frown. Forcing a poker face, you chose to just go for it:

“Yes, and it sounds as though you were English pensioner spending days playing bingo on Malta,” the slight delivered perfectly.

Gratification instantaneous, with Kat laughing hysterically in the background as you observed Neil’s reaction. He froze mid inhale, eyes widened, showing nothing but confusion. And then his mouth opened to choke out:

“…what the-” before he could get to the expletive of choice, the sound of the zip lock interrupted him with abruptness.

Before either of you turned to check who the newcomer was, you met Neil’s bewildered gaze and shrugged. Squeezing his knee as addition and lifting your hand to make the position a little bit more neutral.

“I see it’s not just me who can’t sleep” Wheeler’s voice ringing out in the room made you turn to look at her.

Stood by the entrance, she gave you all an assessing look. Somehow her appearance felt right. Another grounding voice against the rising unease and panic. Someone to pull you back down from the anxious high horse.

“No rest for the wicked” Neil seemingly got over the previous paralysis, for he offered the woman his best rendition of a devilish smirk and threw his arm over the back of the sofa.

Hand landing perfectly by your shoulder. Simple intimacy.

“What’s on the agenda?” Wheeler strolled across the room to sit on the chair by the table.

Dark gaze nonchalantly slipping over the two of you on the sofa. She was never the one to comment on what she observed, but the way she looked at you was enough. The label was painted in the cheeky smile, hidden in the corner of her mouth. Lovebirds. Somehow you knew that at some point, you would be cornered and made to tell the story with necessary details. If only so that she would have digs in the arsenal of sarcasm at a ready. Ignoring the desire to run away, you answered the question:

“Mostly discussing how strange it all is. You know, us of all people, getting a chance to be the heroes” sensing the apprehension rise again, you added, “I feel like if they knew their fate is down to us… they’d be terrified,” a chill running up your spine.

Suddenly uncomfortable, you inched closer to Neil, using his raised arm to lean into his side and find solace. He understood the intent in a second and pulled you nearer, shooting you a quick concerned look. Questions were no doubt coming after.

“And I wouldn’t blame them,” Wheeler agreed with your grave statement with the usual pensiveness, “Normally I don’t get this jittery before missions… but this one feels more important” she stared at the horizon, lost in thought.

With the anxious thoughts waiting around the corner, you searched your head for anything to light up the mood. A stupid joke or a snide comment. But there was nothing.

“Like something could go wrong?” Kat interrupted your train of thought with the simple question.

Alarmed, you looked up to notice the two women exchange a tense look. It really could go wrong. The worst type of wrong.

Neil sensed the way you stiffened, for he pressed his lips to your temple and gave you a quick kiss. His hand tightened the hold over yours, increasing the feeling of being protected. Got you. As always.

You barely noticed when the airlock opened again. Or when another person walked into the room and took off the oxygen mask.

“What’s all this then?” Ives looked around with the eyebrow raised pointedly.

With the whirlwind of emotions, the only thing left to do was to plant your face in your palms, groaning loudly. What the fuck.

Feeling the questioning gazes of everybody else, you slowly raised your head and asked the soldier with blatant tone:

“Could you be any more British?” a mirrored arched eyebrow for the additional effect.

Maybe he was the distraction you needed. The final piece in the puzzle.

No bullshit taken as Ives grinned and gave you the showpiece bow borrowed from The Crown.

“Top of the morning to you, luv” straightening, he raised his hand to tip off the invisible top hat.

The snicker coming from Neil was the only response you ever needed as you rolled your eyes and hid your face in his chest. No point in pretending.

“Couldn’t sleep?” stroking your back slowly, Neil asked the question.

You appreciated how he accepted your sudden need to be comforted. With the careful touch running up your spine, gently scratching the skin, your thoughts slowed down to an acceptable white noise.

“Yeah. The bunk beds are fucking awful, and I’ve no one to cuddle me” it was the neutral way he said it that made you break out into a violent laugh.

The kind when it is increasingly harder to catch your breath, yet the lightness permeating the chest makes everything worth the aching diaphragm and tears running down the cheeks. You heard Kat follow suit, the light giggles bringing hope you wished to find in the darkness of the night.

“Sorry mate, I’m taken,” Neil shrugged, gesturing towards you.

From the comfortable position, you could make out the smirk on Ives’s face as he threw the remark:

“Traitor,” he sat down on one of the empty chairs and noticed, “Anna will be heartbroken, mind you” a passing glance at the two of you snuggled on the sofa.

At the reminder of the receptionist, you sighed heavily. Because yeah, sure, there was nothing to regret in the best turn your life could have taken. But spiteful looks and cold treatment from Anna were not on the list of things you wanted to keep on experiencing.

As if following your line of thoughts, Neil waved his hand dismissively:

“Oh, she’ll get over it,” you grinned at the hint of irritation in his voice, “Plus, it’s not like I’ve ever promised her anything… Not my fault this one came along and stole my heart,” placing his palm on your thigh, he gave you a loud smack on the forehead.

You raised your head in time to see Ives look as if he was close to getting sick on the floor. For once, you could not blame him.

“Dramatic much,” glaring at Neil, you bopped him on the nose with a poker face.

The only sign he noticed was the deepening state of perplexion visible in his blue eyes.

“Who’s Anna?” Kat’s innocent question was the one to throw you out of the strangest conversation and back into the present moment.

Exchanging a glance with Neil, who shrugged as though permitting you to share the tale, you began. Right where it started for you, with the flirting over the admission papers on that first afternoon. Omitting the more private details of your story, and with Neil’s help with the background, you have managed to entertain her with the account of all things Anna. By the end, Kat was looking at you both with eyes wide and cheeks wet from laughing.

It only got better with Ives and Wheeler contributing to the discussion with tales from the past and anecdotes of their missions long before you came into the picture.

When the silence finally fell again, it was less charged with tension. Sipping a second cup of tea, you rested your head over Neil’s chest, comfortably curled up and content.

“What do you want to do after this?” Wheeler asked the question after a beat with a smile on her face.

Nothing needed clarification. An attempt at making the morning seem less daunting. A spark of hope for after – the magical space where you desperately wished to find yourself already.

“Go to a pub and get pissed” Ives grinned from over the rim of his mug, devilish sparks lightening up his blue eyes.

Too tired to react, you chose to sigh heavily and catch Wheeler’s bemused glare as she scoffed:

“How typical” she rolled her eyes and smiled at you as though sharing a private joke.

Men.

“I was planning to invite you along, but now I’m not so sure” the solder cut back with a feigned sulk.

“I’d rather catch up on all those missed boxing classes,” the retort coming without a second missed, causing a giggle to rise in your throat.

Who knew team banter would be the cure for all ails?

That and the steady embrace, holding you close with hands resting on your knee and waist. Letting you know that no matter the future, he was there. All yours.

“Boring,” Ives murmured the response lowly, earning shooting daggers from his second in command.

You felt Neil chuckle as he rested his chin on the top of your head, observing the conversation silently. Your eyes fell upon Kat, a little separated from the idiotic narrative that overwhelmed the four of you. Suddenly feeling a wave of sympathy towards her, you asked:

“What about you, Kat?” as your eyes met, you sent her a small smile.

“I want to go home to Max and finally live my life without that fear of Andrei lurking in the shadows behind my back,” the candid answer whispered almost shyly, “Sorry, I’ve made it all dark-” she added, looking at the rest of you with panic.

Before you could jump in with reassurance, Ives spoke up:

“It’s alright,” he countered her embarrassed look with a stone-cold resilience, “I offer to shoot that fucker on sight if he somehow comes out of this alive” a shrug to complete the proposal.

The genuine grin on Kat’s face was unmissable.

“Appreciated” she nodded curtly as if to mask the initial reaction.

Before you could ponder on it for too long, Wheeler broke the silence again:

“Neil?” her gaze slipped over you once again, the smirk still hiding on her lips.

You felt him raise his head, tightening the hold over your waist as if it was necessary. And then…

“What I want to do is between me and my girlfriend,” the cheeky undertone making you blush instantly and slap him across the knee in an ill-fated attempt at chiding.

That spark of curiosity not easily diminished, however. You made a mental note to ask him as soon as you were alone what that meant. Because, admittedly, doing things with Neil was the height of your wishes too. And most of those were best kept private.

“Thank fuck”

Ives’s candid reply brought you back to the moment in time to hear Neil add:

“-But… I just want to go on holiday. Spend at least a week without stress and the weight of the whole world on my back. And maybe visit my parents… it’s been way too long” the melancholic tone did not get unnoticed despite the panic that crept up your spine.

Following the basic instincts, you lurched forward to be able to look at him. There was no mistaking that confident expression.

“Should I begin to worry? Because ‘meeting the parents’ sounds… official,” you whispered the word with apprehension.

Yes, that sort of thing was probably expected, given how serious he was. But still. The fear of making an idiot out of yourself in front of Neil’s family enough to trigger the anxiety once more. Somehow it sounded worse than dying in the Siberian shithole tomorrow.

With the tense silence that fell, you could almost hear the way the rest of those present were staring at the two of you with curiosity.

“We are official” Neil reached out to brush away the hair falling into your eyes, “We’ll talk about it later. After,” the soft smile administered perfectly, cutting through your worries in an instant.

Maybe you could survive it. Maybe.

“So… Y/N?” at the mention of your name, you looked up at Wheeler.

Right. Diplomatic, subdued answer it is.Somehow it got easier to find the words with Neil’s hand resting on your knee again.

“Holidays would be nice, certainly” stealing a glance at your boyfriend, you exchanged an excited grin, “And maybe some time to walk around London, appreciate life… I don’t know I think I miss the mundanity. Getting coffee on my way to the lecture; visiting random shops and browsing the shelves just because I could. No inverted bullets, no timey wimey bullshit” with the spite thrown in, you left out a long exhale.

That life seemed so far away now. Almost like something out of a dream, rather than your reality before Neil and Tenet. While you would never wish for anything but your current circumstances, sometimes you missed the normality. The lack of danger waiting upon every corner. No necessity to consider fatal sacrifice in the name of love. Normalcy.

“Think you two have travel agency visit booked,” Wheeler commented, looking between you and Neil with a knowing smile on her lips.

Using the most basic of gravitational pulls, you turned to face Neil with a hopeful look. With how close you were seating, only inches of space left between your faces. Despite the tiredness and insomnia, he was utterly stunning, taking your breath away within seconds. A part of your brain wanted nothing but to press your lips against his, mindless of the audience. As though using the same wavelength, Neil glanced at your mouth for a split second, causing a resurgence of butterflies in your stomach. They never seemed to get a rest anymore. Sharing one last long look, you nodded at the unasked question and awaited his response:

“Mhmm… I like the sound of that” another happy grin and a hand grasping yours tightly, “But now, I think we should try sleeping” stifling a yawn, he finished the tea and stood up to wash the mugs.

Using the slightly awkward silence, you jumped up from the sofa and sent the rest of the group a grateful grin:

“Thanks for this… whatever this was” shrugging lightly, you felt a wave of gratitude fill your chest with warmth.

Suddenly the morning felt a little less terrifying. Perhaps for once, you did belong. For once, you were not alone.

“Always up for chatting shit on the eve of the battle” with the bemused smirk on his face, Ives got up and gave you a quick pat on the back.

You only registered that Neil was back by your side when he placed his arm over your shoulder protectively:

“One could even say… that the real treasure is the friends we made along the way” it was the casual way he said it that made you look at him incredulously.

“Is that… Disney?” with your eyebrows knitted together, you tried to find remains of coherence.

Again: what the fuck.

“Maybe,” shrugging, Neil grinned at Ives as if nothing happened.

“Are you regretting your life choices?” the soldier ignored him and stared at you without a shadow of emotion discernible.

With the overwhelming tiredness and brain cells dying one by one, it was easy to choose.

“Maybe,” parroting Neil, you grabbed his hand “You, with me” without protest, you steered him towards the exit, “Think you need rest,”

Just before you could zip up the airlock after the two of you, Ives’ comment broke the silence:

“Take care of each other out there. I want to get an invitation to that wedding” he shot you a serious look, hiding the concern evident in the blue eyes.

Biting harshly on your lip to prevent the sudden need to run back in there and hug him, you raised your hand in mock salute:

“Yes, sir,” a final nod of understanding before you closed the door.

It would be alright. It had to.

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter fifteen: i’m single and incapable of mingle

part sixteen of sudden desire

warnings: mentions of pregnancy/infertility, pining, sweet, sweet pining, angst

word count: 2.9k

Marcus Pike hopes James Casey knows he’s the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. Because he gets to call Coraline Meyer his girlfriend.

They’ve been dating for a couple of months now - the longest few months of his entire life, he’s sure - and it’s fine.

Really, it’s fine.

He’s happy for them.

Because Coraline is happy. And she’s all that matters.

August bleeds into a snowy November and it’s even colder without her there. He doesn’t see her every day like he used to; she’s busy with work - filming and interviews and red carpets where she outshines everyone - and with James, because they’re together now and they’re okay.

And it’s fine.

She makes time for him. Of course she does. He’s her best friend and god knows she wouldn’t survive without him and his beautiful warmth, and the way he holds her just a little longer when they say their goodbyes for the night. But Marcus feels selfish when it hurts him to realise he doesn’t see her as much as he wants to, as much as he used to. But happiness truly looks good on her - she’s the sunshine when the sky turns slate grey - but, sometimes, she still falls into him and she cries, the weight of their loss still weighing heavy on her shoulders.

Marcus can’t find it in him to cry. Maybe he should, because it’s his loss too, but the ache holds his chest tight and terribly uncomfortable that crying sometimes feels too painful. He mourns in silence, with her there those snowy nights, beside him, and that’s enough for him. That’s all he can muster.

He’s started to date, too. Or, at least, tried to. Coraline’s eyes had lit up when he’d told her that the pretty girl from the office had asked him out, and she’d almost lost her mind when he’d told her he’d accepted. They’d been on a couple of dates - and she’d been lovely and the date had been lovely; really, it had - but his mind had been elsewhere. It wasn't her fault, because he’s sure if things had been different, he’s sure things would have been great.

But, somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s sure that it’ll always be Coraline.

At least, for now.

When they’re together, Coraline tries not to talk about him. They talk about everything and nothing, but she only brings him up when it’s almost unavoidable. She tells him about the dates they go on and about the daughter he has with his ex, the little girl that she’d adored before they even started dating, and who seems to adore her; the red-haired, rosy-cheeked four-year-old, Bea, who’s always giggling and asking her for candy. Coraline seems to treat the girl like she’s her own, but Marcus has yet to meet her. Or James, for that matter. She feels bad for droning on and on and on about James around him - she’d hate to bore him with tales of her lovelife - even though he listens with renewed interest and a smile on his face, every time.

But he’s her best friend, and Loren has heard it all before, and sometimes she can’t help spilling all her stories to him when they’re curled up beneath a blanket with their takeout, watching a shitty movie.

They try to do it every week, now. But they see each other far too little for either of their likings.

They still see each other, but those days of sharing apartments and waking up beside each other every morning, hoping and praying they’d have a baby to show from it, are long gone. Sometimes, Coraline lies awake at night and wishes he was still there, holding her close like she was this precious thing. James holds her, too, but it’s not the same. She can’t quite place why.

“Daniel’s worried about the gallery, again,” Coraline tells him, idly, over takeout. It’s Sunday night - and the week has been so long that they’d both practically collapsed onto his couch, exhausted and giggling at each other’s dishevelled and half-asleep appearance - and the only time they’d managed to see each other in between their hectic schedules. There’s a lot to catch up on, and Marcus fears it’ll be over too soon. “Some guy sat outside for two days last weekend, but he hasn’t seen him since.”

“Get him to give me a call,” he insists, “I’ll look into it.”

“Do you even have time?”

Marcus chuckles. “No-” He leans over and plucks an egg roll from Coraline’s carton, much to her displeasure. “-but I’ll find time.”

“Well-” Coraline reaches over, pokes him sharp in the arm with the end of a chopstick, and steals one of his dumplings from his tray. He smirks at her as she savours the taste of the stolen snack. “-I appreciate that, And I’m sure he will, too.”

“Anything for you, sunshine,” he hums.

“That sounds sarcastic.” She chuckles.

“Well, you did just steal my dumpling.”

She pokes him in the leg with her toe.

He grins.

“I’m serious, though. I’ll take a look into it for him.”

He misses those months when it seemed like he was part of the family. When he’d met her parents, had dinner with them and her brother, played with her nephews in the living room and rocked Piper to sleep one night when she’d grown tired in his arms. He misses that little cobbled-together family they’d built on the hope they’d soon have one of their own. His family are so far away - his parents and brother still in Texas, and rarely free long enough to come and visit - and Coraline gave him somewhere to belong.

She still does. With her, things seem to make a little more sense. The memories of Teresa and his first wife don’t seem to matter when he’s with her.

There’s a little silence; a comfortable one, at that, their familiarity still thick between them, despite the distance. Marcus breaks it with a question he’s been itching to ask. “How have you been?” It’s a heavy question, loaded with meaning; the question could refer to anything - to work, to life, to loss and sadness, or to James and his daughter that she sees as her own, now.

Her eyes raise to his, brown eyes that melt her soul, comfortable and wonderful.

There’s no necessity to his question. Marcus had asked because he cared, not because he had to. Coraline tips her head back against the sofa. “I’m doing good,” she admits, though it seems foreign coming from her. How dare she be happy when they’d lost so much, only a few months before? It feels wrong. “Really good.” She sighs. “How about you?”

Happy that you’re happy.

But miserable. Completely fucking selfishly miserable without you.

“Fine.” He brushes her question off.

Coraline narrows her eyes at him. She knows him too well; she can tell when he’s lying, and that’s the worst part of it all. She knows him better than anyone — cares for him more than anyone ever has, too — and she can see right through him. Through the facade and the lies he’s all too comfortable telling. She probably knows how much he adores her, too, but she’s just too lovely to admit she doesn’t feel the same way.

“Marcus-“ His name is urgent. She takes his cheeks in her palms.

It takes everything in him not to pour his heart out to her. “I’m fine.” He repeats.

“Promise?”

Another pause. More uncertainty. He hates lying to her, when she’s so honest with him. “Promise,” he says after a while.

Coraline eyes him, still sceptical. But her shoulders relax, just a little. “How’s it going with Lisa?”

Oh, he hasn’t told her. “Things didn’t work out.”

She pouts. “Why?”

She’s great but she isn’t you.

Marcus shrugs. “I’m not ready to date, yet.” I’m not over you. “I guess Teresa really did a number on me, huh?”

Coraline squints at him; the Marcus she knows is absent, hidden behind hesitation and something she can’t quite place, something that wavers whenever she looks at him. If she presses for answers, she’s terrified she’ll lose him. So she doesn’t. He’ll tell her when he’s ready.

If he’s ever ready.

She places her half-empty carton of food on the coffee table, leans forward and buries her face against his shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around his torso. Her cheek presses against his chest, warmth radiating through the thin material of his white shirt. He relaxes at the feeling of her curled into him, and the warmth of her at his side. “I missed you,” he sighs. His voice rumbles through her.

Coraline hums. She buries further into him, as if she could get lost in him. She has many times before. “I missed you, too. So much,” she whispered. Her words are muffled by his shirt. “Sorry I’ve been so busy lately.”

“That’s life for you.”

“But-“ she sits up stock-straight, and almost knocks into his chin with the top of her head. She utters a breathless apology because she carries on, with exuberant enthusiasm. It’s so damn infectious. “I’ve been writing a screenplay,” she tells him. “I started it about six months ago but I didn’t want to mention anything until I was committed.”

She’s always wanted to write one; she’d told him not long after they just met, when she’d sat and fiddled with the straw in her drink like what she was saying was hopelessly boring and not the most interesting thing in the world to him. She’d told him she was worried she had no stories worth telling, which seemed ridiculous to him, because he would sit and listen to her recount what she insists are silly little stories.

To him, they’re intricate poems and elegant ballads, and the most beautiful things he’s heard in all his years.

It’s no surprise, because the whole of her is priceless artwork; every inch deserves to be admired.

“I’m so proud of you,” he insists.

“Hey, don’t say that yet.” She drops back against the couch cushions behind her. “Could be terrible.”

“I doubt that, sunshine.”

Her green eyes light up bright again. “Will you read it?”

Marcus takes Coraline’s hand and his thumb brushes over her knuckles. “I’d be honoured.”

“Good, because I was intending on forcing you to read it, anyway.”

“On second thoughts-“ Marcus crosses his arms over his chest and smirks. He can’t help it. “-maybe it’s not a good idea for me to read it.”

The glare she gives him is playful. She’s back in his arms in an instant, cheek pressed back against his chest, eyes closed. “I really did miss you, you know?” She brushes a hand over his chest to keep him close after she reaches for her Chinese food again. “Let’s not make a habit of it.”

More comfortable silence.

He could almost fool himself into thinking they’re something more than friends.

And he almost does, until the doorbell rings and a soft rapping comes from the other side of the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Marcus declares, standing with a groan and a crack of his hips; he really shouldn’t be putting off gym training so much. Life’s starting to take its toll on his body. Life and takeout with Coraline. “You expecting someone?” He questions as he stretches out his long legs before him and shuffles towards the door.

“No.” Coraline can’t help the yawn that pushes its way from her chest. “It’s probably just someone selling something.” Her eyes follow him as he rounds the couch and disappears down the hallway towards the front door.

He reaches for the overly-elaborate doorknob; it’s carved with flowers, and brass juts out around it, like the rays of the sun. It’s all so typically Coraline, and it makes him smile every time. He’s greeted with a reminder of her whenever it’s time to leave.

And, when he opens the front door, he’s greeted with a reminder of all he can’t have.

“James! Hey!”

He’s greeted by James Casey blinking back at him, a big bouquet of flowers in his grasp, surely expecting to see his girlfriend and not some unfamiliar guy in her apartment. “Marcus! I didn’t realise you were here.” It’s not meant to sound rude; in fact, his expression is one of surprise, but not as if it’s a bad thing. His southern accent rips the edges of his words. “It’s great to finally meet you.” He tucks the flowers beneath one arm and extends the other hand for him to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh-“ For some reason, the idea that she talks about him when he’s not there hits him. He can’t quite place whether he takes it as a good or a bad thing. Though Coraline’s stories usually paint people in wonderful technicolour. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.” He nods as he accepts his handshake.

He can’t help but feel a fool next to James; he’d turned up with flowers, bright and beautiful, and sunflowers, Coraline’s favourites, while Marcus had turned up with nothing but a greasy bag of takeout food and a smile. James rushes a hand through his short hair. Marcus smiles bright again, and goes to say something, but Coraline’s lilting voice interrupts the beginnings of their conversation. “James! What are you doing here?” She calls from down the hallway.

Marcus had been taking suspiciously long at the door, and she’d hauled herself up — reluctantly — from the comfort of the couch to see what was keeping him. She draws towards her best friend and her boyfriend, the pair of them surprisingly thick in conversation. She reaches them, drawing up on her tiptoes to kiss James, before her hand brushes against Marcus and she settles beside him in the doorway.

They both look at her like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

She definitely is.

“I managed to get the night off, so I thought I’d come and surprise you,” he tells her. His eyes flicker to Marcus; he’s trying his best not to look at either of them, stuck in the middle of this unavoidably awkward situation, but his eyes keep trailing back to Coraline. They always do. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t realise you had company.”

Coraline shakes her head. “It’s fine.” She giggles a little. “I wanted you both to meet, anyway. But we maybe could have planned it a little better.” She looks down at the yellow joggers and white vest she wears, the only things she feels comfortable in whenever they’re eating so much takeout they could burst.

There’s quiet for a moment, the three not knowing what to do or say, or even think. Marcus’ mouth opens and closes a couple of times, the words falling short; he’s sure he looks like a fish to Cora and James. “I can go,” he suggests sheepishly, eventually finding his words.

It’s terrible and selfish, but he can’t shake the feeling he’s being replaced again. He knows Coraline will always love him — maybe not in the same way he loves her, but she’s insisted he’s her best friend one too many times for it to be a lie — but it’s all too familiar, that the woman he loves loves someone else instead. The cycle seems endless.

“No!” Coraline insists, reaching for his hand. She squeezes his fingers between her palm. Marcus wonders, then, if James knows about their agreement, and why it fell apart. Coraline smiles up at him, bright like the sun. She spins to James a moment later. “Do you mind?” Her eyes are gentle, not quite pleasing but hopeful. “I haven’t seen him this week.”

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’.” He smiles bright at her in return and ducks to kiss her cheek. “We still on for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And these are for you. Bea picked them out yesterday,” he tells her, handing her the bouquet of flowers.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” she gushes, running her fingers over the delicate petals peeking out from between the brown paper wrapping. “Tell Bea I said thank you.” She tips her eyebrows up at him and he hums.

“I’ll be sure to.” His southern accent rasps strong. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.” He ducks to kiss her again, then turns with an outstretched hand to bid farewell to Marcus. “See you around, Marcus. Great to finally meet you.”

He shakes his hand again and nods, once, curtly, familiar. “You too, James.” His name sounds stiff in his throat. He hopes Coraline doesn’t notice the unintentional tightness in his tone.

Marcus steps back to allow them to say their goodbyes, paying mild attention to the things they say. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. He hears the door click shut as he shoves himself back into the couch, aching lithe legs drawn out long before him. Coraline’s hand brushes over his shoulders as she passes, swapping the wilted flowers in her vase before the window for the fresh ones James had brought, before flopping down onto the cushions beside him.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t know he was coming.” She sighs, settling back against him. Her carton of noodles is back in her hand again, but she pokes at it idly.

“You don’t have to pity my loneliness, Cora.”

Coraline scoffs. “I’m not pitying you.” She sits up straight and almost glares at him down the end of her nose. She nudges him in the side with her elbow. “I’m just not going to abandon you.” She leans up and dots a kiss to his cheek. “I promise you.”

taglist: @wheresthewater @its--fandom--darling @alberta-sunrise @sara-alonso @madslorian @freeshavocadoooo @giselatropicana @thorins-queen-of-erebor

[banashee]

 5 Times Jon and Martin hug +1 time they kiss

 1

 The first time Martin and Jon hug - or more precisely, the first time Martin hugs Jon - it is a response to the fact that they’re still alive more than anything else. It’s after Jane Prentiss’ attack, after Martin finds the body of Gertrude Robinson down in the tunnels.

 Everyone is a bit worse for wear, which isn’t surprising after everything. The whole institute is full of dead worms and police, so there is little time to think of anything else until the worst of the storm has calmed.

 It’s only after, when Jon asks Martin for his statement about the incident that everything hits him at once.

 “I’m sorry I left you. I thought you and Tim were right behind me…” The guilt about almost losing the two of them eats on Martin, and when he looks up at Jon, he is surprised to see that his eyes have softened more than he’s ever seen on him.

 “Martin, it’s not your fault.” Carefully, as if unsure if he even should, Jon reaches out over the desk in an attempt to comfort, and Martin takes his hand and squeezes without thinking about it, grateful to have something besides a cold, hard table or the edges of his chair to hold onto.

 He is also starting to tear up - great. As if today hasn’t sucked enough already, now he’s about to cry at work, too. But Jon… Is unusually patient. He waits for him to finish his statement and doesn’t push more than absolutely necessary.

 Once the recording is done, he looks him in the eye, and thanks him again for letting him record this statement.

 “Thank you, Martin. And, I suppose, I am glad that you are alright. I was… worried when you weren’t with us anymore.”

 “I was worried about you, too. Both of you. I-'' Ah, great, now he really is crying in front of Jon. Martin wishes for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, but Jon doesn’t comment on that. He simply waits for Martin to calm down or leave or… Whatever he chooses to do next, reall, he doesn’t know.

 To both their surprise, after Martin wipes over his face with one of his sleeves, he pulls Jon into a quick but heartfelt hug. The man feels stiff like a board and thin as bones in his arms, but after the first second of surprise, he hesitatingly hugs back.

 “I am glad that you are okay.” he repeats quietly, and when Martin hurries out of the room after they let go, Jon looks after him, hoping that he really is alright. Or at least, will be alright.  

 There is a lot he would have liked to say, or do, but as always, there seems to be a blockage in his head that stops him from doing so.

     2

 It is late at night and Jon doesn’t think there is anyone still in the office. Yes, Martin is still in the Archives, but that is because he currently lives here. However, it is getting late and he is probably in the storage room and asleep by now, so that doesn’t really count, does it?

 Jon wants to keep going, because he is having too many thoughts to calm down, but he is also exhausted. He doesn’t remember when he last got a decent night of sleep, or whatever counts as such ever since he started working down in the Archives. Sleep has always been a difficult subject to him, but it is even more so now.

 Jon is cold almost all the time lately. He doesn’t sleep well as it is, but there is also something about this whole job, this whole situation, that leaves him nervous and shivering. Truth be told, he is afraid. More afraid than he is willing to admit, his short heart-to-heart with Martin when the worms attacked aside.

 But even then, he had been unwilling to get into any more details. Trusting people, being vulnerable - it is an almost foreign concept to Jon, as much as he would like to be closer to the others.

 He’s been holding himself back, trying to keep them at arm's length, for everyone's safety. But ever since Jane Prentiss’ attack, ever since he realized how much he really cares about Martin, Tim and Sasha when he’d feared for their lives, this particular plan had started to fail more and more.

 Jon sighs, rubbing his tired and itching eyes under the glasses. There are slight tremors running through his entire body. Maybe he should get some tea, warm up and then see. He didn’t have a lunch break, because he keeps forgetting these things, so maybe it might help.

 Jon sighs, then he slowly gets up from the seat by his desk. His recently injured leg is still hurting, and he knows he should give it a rest. He knows he should let it heal properly, but he’s always been bad at taking care of himself. Besides, what is he supposed to do at home? Sit there and wait for something terrible to happen while everyone else is stuck here? No, he’d really rather not.

 When Jon steps out of his office, he is surprised to find that there is a faint light coming from the staff kitchen. Slowly, he steps closer to the room until he can see Martin. He is sitting at the kitchen table in an old t-shirt and what looks like green sweatpants with an ugly pattern, hunched over in his seat as he cradles a mug between his large hands. His hair is a mess, standing up in every direction, and he very much looks like somebody who tried and failed to sleep for quite some time.

 Near him on the table, he can see the corkscrew and there is no doubt that there is one of the fire extinguishers in the room. Even though most of the worms are dead by now, old habits die hard, and it seems like these things help Martin feel a little bit safer.

 Jon decides to say something now rather than later. He doesn’t want to startle the other man, and he also hopes that he wasn’t too loud while he worked.

 “Oh, hi Martin. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

 Martin almost jumps out of his skin and his head whips over to the door where Jon is still standing. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting the company at this hour. As soon as he realizes who it is, Martin seems to relax a bit.

 “Christ Jon, I didn’t - I had no idea you were still here.”

 “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

 “It’s fine, really. Can’t sleep, anyway... There’s tea in the pot, if you want any.” he adds, and nods over to said pot on the table.

 “Thank you.” Jon pulls another mug from the cabinet and fixes himself a mug, grateful that he doesn’t have to fumble his way through preparing everything. Now that he thinks of it, his hands are shaky and he would probably pour boiling water all over himself or something of that nature.

 Truth be told, he is rather grateful for the company.

 “Can’t sleep, either?” Martin asks eventually, and Jon looks up at him. He isn’t sure what Martin sees, but he is pretty sure that it’s fresh scars, exhaustion, more grey hair and eye bags down to his knees, or something to that effect. Really, there is no denying it.

 “Not really, no. Getting work done here… It’s better than nothing, I suppose.” Jon shrugs self-consciously and takes a sip of his tea. It’s warm and comforting, and it instantly calms his nerves. At least a little bit.

 The two of them share a bit of comfortable silence as they drink, and eventually, Jon slumps sideways with a sigh, more even exhausted than he had been before.

 His head lands against something warm, soft and sturdy, and he finds that he doesn’t mind that.

 Martin looks up in surprise when he finds that Jon has actually fallen asleep right on the spot      , leaning against his shoulder.     A deep blush is creeping up his neck, but thankfully, it is in the middle of the night and there is no one else around to see the scene unfold.

 Careful not to wake him, Martin attempts to keep drinking his tea, pointedly ignoring that Jon, who seems dead to the world, actually wraps both arms around his middle in his sleep.

     Oh, Fuck.  

 Martin is screwed - well and fully screwed and he knows it.

 When Jon wakes up later, he is stammering and apologizing profusely, clearly embarrassed about the whole situation. But despite everything, somehow, something between the two of them seems to click into place that night.

       3

 Another time, a little bit later down the line, Jon and Martin hug in the middle of the office. There is no specific reason, really, but truth be told, the two of them have grown closer and closer over the last few months and weeks.

 When they hug, it very much looks like what Tim will amusedly call “The happy fork lift” while he watches the scene unfold with a fond grin. It doesn’t happen often that he gets to see a treat like this -   because “forklift” is actually quite accurate for what’s happening here.

 Okay, so Jon is short. That is      not    his fault, but the fact is, he barely reaches up to Martin's shoulder when both of them are standing up straight.

 No one dares uttering the word “adorable” because for one, Jon is technically still their boss,

 But, the thing is, Jon is short, and when Martin hugs him that night, happy and seemingly carefree for once, he lifts him straight off of his feet.

 Tim may or may not be cackling in the background and Melanie may or may not be rolling her eyes at them.

 Today, there is no specific reason for them to hug. It’s just - their week has gone well for once - or at least, as well as a week can go for them these days. They’re off for the weekend now, so maybe for once, they’re simply a couple of coworkers - friends now, really - who are about to leave and that’s it. Just a friendly “see-you-on-Monday”-hug, and well.

 If both Jon and Martin cling on for just a second longer than they usually would, that’s between them.

     4

 It’s been way too long since they talked.

 Jon has just come back to work, freshly out of coma and the world might just as well have gone on without him. It feels like that, sometimes.

 Jon doesn’t feel like himself at all, even if you take aside the whole “back from the dead” thing. The truth is, Jon is lonely.

 Georgie is barely talking to him anymore. Tim is dead, which hurts like hell, even though they had their troubles towards the end. It doesn’t mean they stopped caring. Jon wishes they could have talked things through one last time, because that’s what friends do, right?

 Sadly, they never got the chance.

 Daisy, Melanie and Basira are around, but that’s not really the same. Jon isn’t as close to them, like he used to be to Martin, Tim and Sasha. Sasha who has been dead for so long and none of them noticed it at the time. It hurts, just as much as losing Tim, and it feels just as fresh.

 Martin is still here, but Jon hasn’t seen him since he came back.

 Every time he hears a door open in the hallway, Jon finds himself jumping up from his seat, sprinting to the door just to see if he might have missed Martin. More often than not, it’s someone else.   Until one day, by chance, he runs into him in the hallway.

 “Martin! Hi!”

 Martin looks up, and it looks like he is… Grey. Fading away, like he isn’t really here.

 “It’s - it’s good to see you. We haven't talked in a while.” Jon is smiling at him, but Martin seems incapable to return it. There is something lost and sad about him, more so than usual - it’s his eyes, Jon realizes. Martin looks sad and empty, but he’s Martin and he’s missed him so much.

 Without thinking, Jon steps closer and wraps his arms around the larger man in a hug that doesn’t get returned this time. Martin stands there, stiff and just as lost as before, and he feels cold. So cold. But he still smells the same, smells of tea and woolen jumpers and that one brand of shampoo that he’s been using for years. It is familiar and comforting, but at the same time, it feels wrong.

 When Jon returns to his office and closes the door behind him, there is a thick  lump forming in his throat. He doesn’t feel better at all.  

     5

 They are standing on a foggy beach and Martin is freezing cold. He is even more faded away than before, as if he barely even exists anymore. Far away from everything and everyone around him.

 When Jon finally reaches him, reaches out for him, he is afraid that he might not even be able to touch Martin at all. But when he reaches out, Martin's hand is ice cold, his skin clammy and crusted with salt.

 They stand there in the middle of an empty beach, waves rolling lazily behind them as the thick white fog seems to swallow them whole.

 “I was so alone.” Martin tells him, and his voice breaks. Jon closes the distance between them in a heartbeat, wrapping himself around the larger man as tightly as he can, trying to protect him from the world around them and everything that is trying to hurt him.

 “Come on, let’s go home.” he quietly tells him, and after what feels like eternity, Martin agrees.

 They keep holding hands the entire way to Martins apartment, throughout the night and the entire next day when they’re huddled together on a train, on their way to Scotland.

     +1

 Martin wakes up warm, comfortable and with a mouthful of Jon’s hair. The man in question is cuddled up into his back, both arms and legs wrapped tightly around Martin, like an octopus. He does that quite a bit, and honestly, Martin can’t complain.

 He loves all the small ways in which they can express their love to each other, and if one of the most “human cactus” people Martin has ever met in his entire life wants full-body-cuddles from him on a daily basis, who is he to deny him that?

 Besides, it’s not like it’s a hardship. Martin loves these moments just as much, and he wonders sometimes how he ever managed to feel truly alive before he - they - could have this.

 Martin is well aware that he’s got privileges that no one else would have with Jon. He knows he won’t ever sleep with him - well, not like that, anyway - and they have talked about this, about boundaries and wishes, everything important to them. They have found and developed their own ways to be close and show their love to one another, and it works. It just works.

 “You’re like a small backpack.” Martin had joked once, and as a result got the treat of hearing Jon sleepily laugh into his shoulder. God, he loves hearing him laugh. It doesn’t happen nearly often enough, but, not without a sizable amount of pride, he noticed that Jon laughs a lot more now that they are together.

 Martin attempts to pull the salt-and-pepper strands of Jons hair out of his mouth without waking the other man, and as always, it proves to be a real challenge.

 Jon’s hair seems to have a life of its own, and it’s everywhere. Spread out over the pillows. In Martin’s face. In his own face - everywhere. Jon, oblivious to all of this, sighs in his sleep and tightens his hold around Martin, hands clasped around on his sleep-warm chest. Meanwhile, Martin carefully attempts to free himself from his boyfriend's hair.

     ‘I should braid it later    ´, he thinks as he carefully tucks the rest of it away and gently scratches Jon’s scalp while he is at it.

 Braiding his hair relaxes both of them, and Jon tends to lean into the touch like a cat, which is always a plus. Martin smiles as he allows himself to slowly wake up while he enjoys the warm company of his boyfriend. It’s been a while since either of them could sleep so peacefully, and even though it happens on borrowed time, they are determined to enjoy every minute of it.

 After a little while later, Jon slowly stirs awake. His hold around Martin tightens for a moment, then he pushes his face into the crook of his neck.

 “Good morning, my Love.” Martin says, fingers tracing along Jons forearms that are still wrapped around him. He smiles when he gets a kiss on his neck in response.

 “Sleep well?” he asks then, and Jon stretches out his limbs while he remains wrapped around Martin. Cat. This man is a damn cat.

 “Hmhm… Good morning, Love.”

 Now that there is a bit more space, Martin used it to turn around and face Jon. He is half awake and smiling at him, as if Martin is the best thing he has ever seen. Truth be told, he is, and Jon is happier to have him than words can express.

 Martin is his person, the love of his life. As hard as the last years and months have been on them, at least they have found each other, and that has to count for something, right?

 More so than that, they’re comfortable with and around each other, in a way Jon hasn’t been around anyone in a very long time, or maybe ever. They know each other, good parts and bad parts alike.

 They remain wrapped around each other for a bit, chest to chest this time, and Jon smiles a happy, loops smile when Martin presses a kiss on top of his head and then keeps stroking his hair, neck and back. His own hands are tracing small, invisible patterns on Martins back now, and the two of them thoroughly enjoy slowly waking up like this.

 Neither of them has had a nightmare, which is rare these days, but they’ll take some peace and quiet whenever they can.

 After a little while, Jon and Martin pull away from each other, just a little bit, to be able to look at each other and to share a proper good morning kiss, ever gentle but definitely enthusiastic.

 “Hi.” He smiles.

 “Hi yourself.” Another kiss, and then they are interrupted by the sound of a growling stomach. They share a look.

 “Time for breakfast?”

 “Yes, definitely. I think we’ve got ingredients for pancakes, if you want.”

 And just like that, they start another day in the cozy cabin in the middle of the scottish highlands.

                                   Notes:  

Warnings: - mentioned canon character death - references to depression, loneliness etc.

[moon-in-daylight]

Read Between The Lines / Count Orlo x reader

Summary: You have been friends with Orlo for years now, even though you have always fantasized about being something more. When Orlo reads some compromising papers, you’re not sure you can keep your infatuation with him a secret anymore.

Words: 5.4k

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for weeks and now I’ve finally finished it. I’m not sure I’m content with the result, but considering I’ve overcome a really huge writing block to finish this, I’m posting it either way. I haven’t proofread any of this, so sorry for the potential mistakes and typos. Hope it still makes some sense. Also sorry for posting so late at night, but now that I finally have a fic to post, I can’t wait to do it until tomorrow 😂 

Surviving in Peter’s court wasn’t an easy task and anyone that had spent more than a few nights between the opulent walls of his palace could confirm that. The competence of the young Emperor could be easily described as inexistent and both the country and the palace were suffering the most absolute misery under his wicked and corrupted hand.

The war with Sweden had lasted too long, killed too many of your own people, but as harsh as it sounded, the front wasn’t the most hostile environment in Russia.

Sooner or later, that war would end. Eventually, things would go back to normal to the few lucky Russian soldiers that survived the unforgivingly cold winter in the battleground. Whatever outcome the dispute would take, the remaining survivors could go home and return to their families, live the rest of their lives in peace despite the atrocities they had been obliged to perform and witness…

The court, on the other hand, was endlessly immersed in a constant, vicious war for power that had started long before you were even born, and most certainly would still go on long after you were gone.

Every single soul living in Peter’s palace cared only for themselves, looked exclusively for their own interests. Winning the Emperor’s favor was vital for survival, and no one seemed to care whose feet they stepped on to get it. You could understand their selfish ways, you weren’t completely innocent either. You often forced yourself to laugh at the terrible jokes Peter made or took advantage of your family’s prosperous situation to get the any whims you could desire, even when in the majority times you actually didn't need most of the things you owned. It was an unfair situation and you were aware of it, but you had to take advantage of the fact that you had been born lucky and privileged.

But you normally tried to stay out of the way of the big political players, of those of the court’s residents that were trying to manipulate Peter into ruling by their beliefs and principles.

It was exhausting to live in a place like that. A place where everyone hid their true intentions and where you couldn’t lower your guard at practically any time of the day.

Much to your disgrace, the situation at court wouldn’t change while Peter was alive and occupying the throne. Even when he was the most incompetent, useless ruler the country had had in centuries – probably ever -, you were doomed to endure his reign with the only hope that you could outlive him and see a better Russia after he passed away.

He was too childish and puerile to run a country, far more worried in the seek for his own pleasure and amusement than meeting the needs of his people.

It was hard to conceive that while thousands of men were dying at the front, the Emperor could be drinking until passing out and making full display of his stupidity and recklessness through humorless jokes. It was evident to everyone’s eyes that he wasn’t qualified to run Russia, but you knew that saying that out loud would more than certainly get you killed.

He came from a long bloodline of rulers and that gave him a full pass on doing anything he wanted, no consequences, all by the divine grace of God. There was absolutely nothing you could do, except watch everyone around you butter up and lick the boots of the man that was destroying your homeland.

Not being able to deal with the hypocrisy of the court, you had soon learnt to ignore the real world and hide yourself up in fantasy ones, the shelves and books of the small library of the palace becoming a shelter for you.

In addition to being meaningfully smaller than the other rooms of the palace, the library was old, outdated and dusty. But it was also the quietest place and most peaceful room you could have access to, the least crowded. Just for that reason, it was the perfect place for you.

Although what you could have initially expected, you weren’t always alone in there, as Count Orlo often visited the library too. He was probably the only soul in the whole court beside you that care the slightest for written words, that enjoyed learning new things just for the pleasure of it.

You were intimidated by him at first, his political career and reputation making him seem cold and ruthless. In your eyes and judging by what you had heard of him, he was nothing but a calculating mind seeking to expand his power and influence, putting up with the Emperor’s constant mocking of him just so he could manipulate him.

That view you had of him immediately changed after the first time you exchanged a few ideas about the philosophy book he had caught you reading, his passionate words allowing you to see the concepts you were reading about from a different and more interesting point of view.

It wasn’t rare for the both of you to coincide in that room and through your encounters you easily familiarized and grew comfortable with each other presence. How could you not? He was always nothing but kind to you.

Whenever he had the chance, he got reunited with you so you could discuss your readings, recommend each other new books or just spend some quality time away from all the court’s madness. He was incredibly friendly and caring, always willing to share with you his knowledge, which you were incredibly thankful for.

Women weren’t supposed to learn the things you were learning. Most of them at court were illiterate, and you would be too had your father not thought it could be useful to teach you how to read when you were a child. You were grateful that he had taken the time to teach you, knowing that most men wanted the women around them to be ignorant and obliging. You were tired of seeing the patronizing way in which your gender was treated. So seeing that Orlo was treating you as an equal and was happy to answer even your most stupid questions was truly relieving.

It didn’t take long for you to grow fond of him, maybe fonder than you would have liked to admit.

Orlo was the only person in court you felt you could rely on, his views and ideas more similar to yours than what you could have ever imagined. Despite what everyone else gossiped about him, you knew he was brave and did the best he could to make a difference in Russia. He couldn’t do much to reason with Peter and talk him into making what was best for everyone, you doubted that anyone could. But at least he tried, unlike all that people who dared to mock him.

You saw in him something you had been looking for your whole life; a ray of hope. A promise that things could change, a reminder that not everything was that bad.

You couldn’t help but to let yourself fall for the feelings you slowly developed for him. It felt too good and tempting to not do so. The way your heart raced whenever you were around him was something thrilling, exciting. Something you had never thought you could ever get to feel while living in that place.

You weren’t willing to act on those feelings and risk losing his friendship, though. It was evident how uncomfortable he felt about that subject whenever Peter and his minions made fun of his lack sexual experience. You could see him clench and cringe under the court’s mockeries, discomfort filling his features every time anyone made a sexual reference in his presence. You assumed he simply wasn’t interested in those matters.

Plus, if he had been interested in you that way, he would have said something, shown some sign of his affection towards you…

It was okay that he didn’t feel the same. Just being able to befriend him was more than you could have asked for, and silently daydream about made up scenarios of you and him usually did the trick when you felt the need of being loved back.

That’s how, during one night in which you couldn’t get Orlo out of your head while reading, you had started writing a ‘book’ of your own.

You had been gathering different fantasies during the last couple of months. Endless reveries about how kissing him for the first time would feel like, what his reaction would be to other men taking an interest of you, or even about how the most quotidian parts of the day, like waking up or having breakfast, would be like with him.

Why should you not write something of your own, for your own consumption? You had always loved reading, and your feelings for Orlo gave you a never ending source of inspiration. So many ideas that you barely could remember them all. By writing them, you could preserve the happiest of your thoughts, go through them after a bad day and have your little stories bring a smile to your face.

It was harmless, so why not doing it? If it brought you joy, it couldn’t be that bad. Plus, Orlo would never have to know about your writings, as he didn’t need to know about your feelings for him either.

You hadn’t been able to write or read anything for the past days, though. Since the arrival of the Empress to the court everything had been even more chaotic than usual, and even when you much have rather stay in your chambers or with Orlo in the library instead, you had been obliged to attend to the wedding and following events.

As soon as you had seen her innocence, the look of hope in her face as she arrived to the palace for the first time, you had pitied her. She was an outsider hoping to find in the Emperor the love of her life, and in Russia a new home. You almost felt inclined to advice her to run away as fast as she could and never look back the second she walked through the palace’s doors. Living in that place was already awful enough without being married to Peter, and you figured that more sooner than later she would be regretting ever having left her home.

It only took a few days for her to realize in what a godforsaken place she had gotten herself into, as you had figured would happen. What you weren’t expecting was for her to start plotting against his husband’s life so she could steal his throne, nor that she would be requesting for your help in the process.

You had of course agreed to help her as soon as she had told you about the coup. You barely knew the woman, but you were already sure she would be making a much better work at running Russia that Peter ever would. Even a monkey could do it better, you suspected.

Because of your implication to her plans, you had found yourself having less time to spend with your own thoughts and writings, but that was compensated by having the chance of spending even more time than before with Orlo, as you had been able to convince him into taking part of the coup too.

It was actually nice to take part in the plotting against Peter, not only because you hated the bastard, but because due to the extra time you spent with Orlo, you could feel the bond between you getting stronger. During coup meetings, you would usually support each other’s ideas, have inside jokes between the two of you… You even defended him against Marial’s rude comments of him.

But as much fun as you were having helping Catherine kill the Emperor, it was also a really exhausting and demanding task, and you soon found that you barely had time to spend by yourself anymore. It had been at least a week since the last time you had been able to sit by your desk and write any of the scenarios you pictured with Orlo. And now that you were spending so much time together, you had a lot to write about.

That night you had arrived to your apartments early, right after dinner. As was tradition every few nights in the court, the Emperor was hosting a party, and you had been fortunate enough to be spared of the torture of attending.

You were hopping you could spend a quiet, peaceful night by yourself for once. To get lost in your thoughts as you imagined Orlo by your side in a new, reformed Russia. But your plans immediately took a different turn when, after searching through the whole room, you couldn’t find your writings anywhere.

After inspecting every drawer and every corner of your room for the second time, you started to get seriously worried.

What if someone had sneaked into your chambers and taken your writings? It was unlikely, as you hadn’t tell anyone about their existence. Why would anyone want to steal those, anyway? What value could they hold to anyone other than you? Of all the items in your quarters, those papers were probably the least valuable thing. If anyone had intended to steal anything from that room, you were sure that would be the last thing they would have taken, and yet, it was the only missing item…

But looking around you, you realized it wasn’t the only thing out of place. In the top of your desk you found a book that wasn’t supposed to be there, the book you had supposedly lent Orlo last week.

Quickly putting all the pieces together, you realized the fatal mistake you had made as your heart practically started to bump in your chest.

You had given him your own writings, instead of the Voltaire pamphlet you had been meaning to share with him.

Mumbling and cursing yourself, you grabbed the book between your hands and rushed out of your chambers and towards Orlo’s.

The Count had been even busier than you with the whole coup situation, so you hoped and prayed for him not to have found a single moment to read in all that time. You knew that in usual conditions, he could and would devour entire books over night, but you held to the hope that he hadn’t seen any of the things you had written about him.

Well, you had seen him exhausting himself from work every day for the past week. His mind seemed to be too focused on planning the next move, on thinking of possible allies for the Empress. It was quite possible he hadn’t even remembered that the book was in his possession.

If he had seen the words you had written, he would have already said something, right? So maybe you could still fix your mistake and act as if nothing had ever happened.

Assuming that he was still at the Emperor’s party, you could sneak into his chambers and switch the books. Prevent the awkwardness that the discovering of your fantasies with him would arouse between the two of you.

You didn’t bother to knock on his door before silently making your way into his chambers, holding the book close to your chest as you tried to ease the pressure that you felt inside.

When you saw that the entrance seemed to be empty, you let out a silent sigh of relieve. Yet, your steps were carefully slow as you got deeper into the room, trying not to make a single noise just in case.

It felt somewhat wrong to be there without his permission, but saving your friendship came before any moral conflict that could arouse within you at the moment.

If everything went okay, he would never have to know about any of it.

You held onto that thought as you kept walking towards the door of his bedchamber, where you knew he kept most of his books. Even when what you were doing felt wrong, it was for a greater good. How uncomfortable would the coup meetings be if he were to discover about your infatuation of him? For the well-being of Russia itself, he should never find out.

Besides, you were just trying to mend a wrong. You had given him your writings in a foolish mistake, by taking them back and leaving the actual book in their place you were just making things right. You convinced yourself it was the righteous thing to do, even when deep down it didn’t feel like it.

Succeeding into making your way to the front door of his bedchamber without any major complication, you pushed the doors open and quickly got inside the room. You didn’t mean to stay too long in there, but you closed the doors behind you in case any guard found them open and got alarmed.

The last thing you wanted right now was for anyone to find you there and having to make up an excuse for your furtive presence in the Count’s apartments.

When you looked up and found him sitting on his desk your body immediately froze, and when he looked up from the papers he was reading to look at you, you felt the cold sweat forming in your forehead.

For a second, you kept your eyes on him, watching surprise taking over his features. You tried to think of something, anything. An excuse to why you were sneaking into his chambers late at night when everyone was supposed to be either sleeping, dancing or completely wasted. You considered the idea of pretending to be drunk, make him think that you had entered his apartments by mistake and let him guide you back to yours. Being the gentleman he had always been, you knew that would be exactly what he would do in that situation.

It would certainly be embarrassing, and you feared he would feel uncomfortable having to deal with a drunk version of you. But you knew it would be far more embarrassing and uncomfortable to tell him the real reason why you were there.

If you were lucky enough and your performance succeeded, maybe you would even be able to ‘drunkenly’ roam through the room in search of your writings and take them with you without him noticing. Maybe you could still fix things.

You were about to ask him what he was doing in your apartments in what you hoped would sound as a drunken tone, but you desisted when you noticed the papers he was holding in his hand.

He had already read them. There was no point in making even more of a fool of yourself.

Neither of you dared to say anything for the following moments. Awkwardly, you looked at each other in what felt like the longest seconds of your life. You no longer knew what to do or say to fix that situation and, judging by the terrified look on his face, you doubted there was anything you could possibly try to make things better.

That was it. Your friendship was officially over. He would probably never want to say another word to you again. Maybe not even be in the same room as you again.

“I-“ You stumbled over your own words, feeling the lump forming in your throat and the pressure in your chest growing stronger, until the point of almost suffocate you. “I’m deeply sorry.”

As you quickly but sincerely said those words, you felt your mouth getting dry and your cheeks blushing, self-hatred taking over every inch of your body. You couldn’t bear the weight of his stare on you. Orlo’s eyes had always seemed the sweetest thing in the world to you, always so expressive and caring whenever he looked in your direction. But right now you felt them hovering over you judgmentally, with a hint of disgust on his face.

You had to look away from him immediately, but you still could notice how his face reddened too with what you assumed was second hand embarrassment.

Closing your eyes, you wished you could magically banish from that room. You wished for a hole to appear in the ground and swallow you, or for the walls to crumble and fall upon you until you were buried deep in the rubbles of the palace and nobody could find you. Literally anything could be better than standing there in front of Orlo.

You had no excuses, no way out. You wanted to properly apologize to him, make him see how truly sorry you were and how much you appreciated his friendship. How desperate you were not to lose him.

But you couldn’t find the right words for it.

“I should go.” You muttered nervously, still hopping that that entire situation was just a bitter nightmare. “I hope you can forgive me.”

Turning to leave his apartments, you wished he hadn’t notice the crack in your voice as you spoke. That whole scenario was already too shameful for you to bear, the last thing you needed was for him to see you crying. All you wanted was to get out of there as fast as you could, lock yourself in your chambers and drink until you forgot about what had happened or just passed out, whatever occurred first.

“Wait.” Orlo’s shaking voice stopped you.

As much as you wanted to run away, a single word from him was enough to stop you.

You were mortified as you stood there, still refusing to turn in his direction. You didn’t dare to. He was probably going to lecture you about how wrong and improper was what you had done, how repulsed he was by it. You didn’t want to go through it, but you owed it to him to face the consequences of your actions.

“I-I didn’t know you write.”

The Count’s tone was surprisingly tender and insecure. You turned to him with wondering eyes, trying to discern whether if he was mad at you or not.

“That’s not-“ You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but your mouth was still dry. “I mean, I don’t.”

“But aren’t these writ-?” He started to question, but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Those don’t count.” Orlo frowned at your words, confused. You made an effort to explain yourself. “They’re rubbish.”

You watched him clench his jaw and avoid your gaze before he spoke again.

“I like-“ He stuttered. “I liked them.”

His words made you blush again. Not with embarrassment, but with flustering this time. He didn’t seem mad at you. In fact, he seemed way more nervous than you. His stammering confession of his liking of your work made you realize how hard he was trying to seem composed.

“I thought you’d be upset.” You tried to state, but your doubtful tone made it sound more like a question.

“I am not.” He was quick to reply, but still refused to meet your eye. “I think the way you… I really enjoyed your descriptions. They’re very detailed and intricated. And the vocabulary is delightfully rich.”

You could see the way Orlo moved around as he spoke, grabbing your writings in one hand and gesticulating with the other one to emphasize his words. He was visibly nervous, but he was doing his best to hide it. He was trying to act as if he was making a simple review of any other book you had shared with him and, as thankful as you were that he was attempting to normalize the situation, this wasn’t just another one of your endless talks about literature.

You hadn’t written those stories with the purpose of discussing them. It felt cold to talk about the use of vocabulary in them when your only intention at the time of writing them had only been to find a way to deal with what you felt for him. You weren’t especially proud of the product of your writing, but you had poured your heart and soul in them. How could he act as if he hadn’t read right through you? Was he really that oblivious that he didn’t realize that you were head over heels about him?

It was literally impossible he didn’t know, he had read about it with his very own eyes. Still, he seemed to be trying to act as if nothing had happened. You had accidentally stripped your feelings, showed him your deepest desires. And all you got from him was nothing.

For a second you thought you would have preferred that he had screamed at you, showed you rage, discomfort, or even disgust. Literally any other feeling that wasn’t the indifference he was giving you. Did he really not care at all?

Confronting him about it felt wrong. You weren’t entitled to it, and you didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. Instead, you decided to play along.

“And what do you think of the plot?” You asked, hoping he would take it as a cue to address the issue that worried you.

“T-The plot?” He repeated anxiously as he readjusted his glasses. You nodded, hoping for him to say something, but all you got from him was a mumbling mess.

You felt your heart ache for him as he stumbled through stuttered words and unfinished sentences. The Count seemed even more uncomfortable trying to find a right answer for you than what he usually was when being mocked by the court. And considering how awkward he felt under the constant jibes he was put through daily, that was saying something.

“Orlo, I’m sorry you read that.” You cut him off in an attempt to calm him down. Embarrassment was taking over you once again and you felt the urge to leave his apartments immediately, but you first needed to try to calm his nerves. You hated seeing him so unsettled, and you knew that he was going to be torturing himself about that interaction once you left the room, just as you were going to do too. At least, you had to try to find the right words to clear his mind. It had been you the one that had put him in that place after all. “I shouldn’t have written those things about you. It’s okay if you feel uncomfortable about it, you don’t have to pretend you don’t. I understand if you’re upset, even. It’s not your fault. I have no excuse for this, I now realize I should have never-“

“I’m not-“ Orlo’s voice surprised you, making you hush instantly. “It’s not that I’m upset. I just-“

He closed his eyes and sighed, probably still struggling to find the right words to express what was going through his mind. Knowing the man, you realized he was probably beating himself up inside that restless head of his. Cursing himself for not knowing the best way to react to that situation. The man was a perfectionist, always had been. If he said the wrong thing now he wouldn’t be able to think of any other thing for the rest of the week.

“I really can’t tell if you wrote these stories as a joke.” He finally sentenced.

“A joke?” The words left your lips before you could even process them. “Why would you think that?”

“I know I’m not a ladies man.” He stated, discomfort still plaguing his tone. “I’m well aware of all the rumors and jests about me. It’s just… I know I’m not desirable to women.”

You couldn’t help but frown while hearing his words. Your heart broke a little inside your chest, too. How could he think that you would mock him like that? Had he really grown to believe all the mean and hurtful things the evil tongues at Court said about him?

“Orlo, that’s bullshit.” You stepped forward, the embarrassment you had been drowning in suddenly turning into indignation. “You’re not a coward. You’re the bravest, most caring man I know. Not even half of the other men in this palace would be courageous enough to have joined this coup, to fight to make a difference. They can’t say nothing to you and it’s criminal that they have the audacity to mock you.”

The Count stared at you in disbelief of your words, still reluctant to look at you directly in the eye. It hurt you that he couldn’t seem to believe your words were true.

“You aren’t ugly either.” You continued, placing yourself right in front of his desk. “You have the most beautiful and intense eyes I’ve ever seen. I could stare at them for hours, if you let me. And your hair? It looks so soft, I’d love to run my fingers through it.”

Your heart beat increased as you kept listing the things you loved the most about him. It felt weird to just say to his face all the things that you loved about him and that you had kept in secret for years, but you needed him to understand just how wrong he was.

“You’re so intelligent that I sometimes fear you will laugh at me when I say something stupid, but deep down I know you won’t because you’re too kind to ever do that.”

Looking into his eyes, you took a deep breathe, deciding if you should keep on or just cut it off already. Truth was you could have continued like that for hours.

“Orlo, you’re the best person I know, and anyone incapable of seeing the many virtues you have must be completely blind. Including yourself.”

Silence took over the room for the following seconds, and you feared you had made his discomfort grow stronger. Still, you didn’t regret saying those things out loud. You had kept them to yourself for too long, and he needed to know his own value.

The Count simply stared at you, eyes shifting and mouth slightly ajar.

“I never knew you thought such nice things about me.” He finally muttered bashfully, as if he was apologizing.

“Well, I’ve been in love with you for years. That’s the reason I wrote those stories.” You casually added with your newfound confidence. Somehow, it still seemed to get him by surprise. “It has been painfully obvious and I think everyone else has realized already, but since you don’t seem to be able to read between the lines, I’m telling you.”

It felt liberating to finally get it out your chest. For years you had feared his rejection, but now that you witness his own insecurities making a display right in front of you, all you cared about was to make him feel he was worthy of love and respect. You didn’t even care if he didn’t requite your feelings.

“I’m such an idiot.” Count Orlo stood and looked at you, not being able to hide the red color his cheeks had taken.

“Indeed you are.” You smiled at him, touched by his innocent obliviousness. “A very cute one, though.”

Orlo stood in front of you, closer than usual. When you noticed him fidgeting in the spot and nervously running his tongue through his lips, you realized what his new intention was. Not leaving him time to regret his decision, you captured his lips with yours in a chaste but sweet kiss.

You couldn’t help but recall the way you had imagined and described that moment in your writings as you pressed your lips against his. You had always imagined your first kiss to be more passionate and intense, but as you pulled away slowly from the kiss, you thought that the sweetness and tenderness of the actual moment was more fitting than what you could have ever pictured.

“You should have told me earlier about this.” Orlo stated, face inches away from yours.

“I’m not done telling you everything.” You smiled contently. “There are still plenty of things I love about you and that I think you should know.”

“I can think of a few about you myself.” He whispered, more relaxed now. You liked this carefree side of him.

“I’d love to hear them, but they can wait until tomorrow.” Handing him the book you still had between your hands, you stated. “I think you have some Voltaire to catch up on first. And I should go back to my apartments. It’s late and there’s something I want to write about.”

Orlo’s smile was so big that it made your heart race. After leaving the book you had given him on his desk, he gave you back your writings.

“I can’t wait to read it.”

[ad1thi]

frequent (emergency room) flyer | AU-gust Day 6: Hospital AU

AU-gust masterlist

i wrote this a while back, and a couple of people seemed interested in more, so here is another piece in that AU. tagging @m-e-i-c-h-a-n, @severelytinyeagle and @warmachinesocks (who was the original prompter) and im sorry if you asked for a continuation and didn’t get tagged. note: this can be read a stand-alone fic (but reading the original ficlet will help)

I’m begging you, please help me out here and get me something edible, I’m so tired of hospital food (from this prompt list) 

//

After his first visit, Bucky isn't expecting to see Tony again. Despite how garish the burns had looked on his arms, the actual injury itself had thankfully not been that bad - and Tony only needed to come in one more time for a check in, just to make sure everything was healing well. It was a short visit, nothing to write home about and Bucky privately wished that the injuries had been a bit more severe.

Not too severe, because he didn't want Tony hurting himself, but severe enough that it warranted a couple more visits. Of course he kept that particular inclination to himself, because it wasn't normal to want your crush to be hurt and it was unbecoming for a doctor to want an injured patient, but it was there - in the back of his mind.

When Steve pages him a month later and tells him that he's got a repeat customer, and he ducks into A&E to see a familiar mop of hair; he's secretly pleased.

"What are we looking at?" he asks Steve, holding his hand out for the chart. Steve passes it over with a grim face, "His roommate brought him in. He was unconscious. Apparently he's been locked up in his lab for the past week, and when his roommate went to check on it - he was slumped against his desk. We managed to get him conscious again, and it looks like a case of a lack of food and drink."

Instantly, Bucky regrets the way he felt when he first found out that Tony was back in A&E. He nods sharply at Steve, and pulls back the curtain to see a pale Tony on the bed, and a black kid who can't be more than a few years older than Tony standing near the side of the bed.

"Bucky!" he croaks when he looks up, lips stretching out into a wide smile. He pulls at the black kid's sweater, "Rhodey look - it’s Bucky!"

"I can see that Tones," Rhodey says in a wry tone, and holds his hand out for Bucky to shake. "James Rhodes, but this punk likes to call me Rhodey."

"Doctor James Barnes," he says back, "also cursed with a bestfriend who gives out terrible nicknames. You must be James the original."

Tony gives him an indecipherable look, "You remembered."

Bucky can't tell him that he's played the weekend that Tony was in the hospital in his mind on repeat, revisiting the memories like they’re treasure, so instead he clears his throat and asks, "So what brings you to my neck of the woods this time?"

Tony opens his mouth to reply, but Rhodey beats him, "He doesn't know how to eat. Don't even start with me Tones you know it's true. Doctor," he turns to Bucky with pleading eyes, "maybe you can knock some sense into him. Explain to him that human beings need sustenance three times a day and they can't survive on coffee and ramen."

Bucky frowns, "You've only been having ramen and coffee? Tony you need vitamins, you need protein. While it's possible that you just fainted because of hunger, I'm going to keep you around for a couple of days. Run some tests to make sure you haven't given yourself scurvy."

His lips twist into a pout, and Bucky has to tamp down the urge to lean down and kiss it off his face. "This is all your fault," he glares at Rhodey mulishly, "I'm stuck in a hospital instead of at my lab like I should be. All you had to do was splash some water on me and this whole thing could've been avoided."

"I did, you didn't wake up" Rhodey says, obviously not rising to Tony's bait. He oddly reminds Bucky of himself, back when Steve wasn't a hunkering man made of muscles and Bucky had to wrestle his four foot ass in bed because he couldn't go five steps without dissolving into a coughing fit. "Besides, what're you complaining about? Now you've got all this free time to ogle at the doctor you've been talking my ear off about for a month."

Tony's cheeks pink, and Bucky excuses himself before he does something he's going to regret.

(Like find out exactly what Tony's been saying about him to his bestfriend)

/

Thankfully, Tony doesn't seem to have any serious illnesses apart from a mild case of dehydration and malnutrition; but Bucky keeps him under observation to be sure just in case. He's heard horror stories of students cracking under the pressure at MIT and almost starving themselves to death, and he's got a special interest in making sure that Tony doesn't become one of those horror stories.

Besides, he's fairly certain that Tony can afford the medical bills.

The downside of Tony not being at high risk of death is that Bucky can't justify visiting him often. So he does the next best thing, he assigns Steve to Tony. It's standard hospital procedure to have a nurse dedicated to their VIP patients, and it soothes something inside Bucky to know that Stevie is looking out for him.

What he fails to take into account, is the fact that Steve and Tony are remarkably similar people, and are therefore bound to clash.

"I can't take it anymore!" Steve bursts into his office, interrupting what was promising to be an extremely rewarding fifteen minutes of sleep at his desk, "He's so - UGH!"

Steve tugs at his hair, and Bucky gestures at the couch in his office, wincing when Steve slumps against it face-first.

"Use your big boy words Stevie," he says in what he hopes is a calming tone, "Who's got you so worked out?"

"Your ickle Tony," Steve props his head up and says in a scathing voice, "Is the most infuriating person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. It's like he wants to die. I don't know what you see in him Buck, honest to god, he drives me crazy."

"What did he do?"

"He refuses to eat!" Steve moans, but when he notices the expression on Bucky's face he backtracks a little, "He eats, but like ridiculously small amounts. His tray is never empty, and one time - I even caught him shovelling food under his plate to make it look like he'd eaten it. The kid is going to kill himself if he goes on like this."

Bucky wants to go over there right now, but he's got patients that can't wait. "I'll visit him after my rounds today," he promises, "find out what's going on."

When he enters the suite that they've put Tony in, he's in the middle of a very heated conversation on his phone. His skin is no longer pale, flushed full with colour, but he's still too skinny for Bucky's comfort.

"No Pep I -" he looks over when the door slides open, and his face transforms into a smile, "Bucky! Pep, let me call you right back."

Whoever it is on the other line is clearly not happy about Tony cutting the line on them because he hears the beginning of what sounds like yelling - but Tony ends the call before they can get anywhere. He cocks his head and bats his eyes at Bucky, "What can I do for my favourite doctor?'

"I'm your only doctor Tony," Bucky says with a chuckle, "Nobody else is willing to treat you." It isn't a lie, but it isn't the complete truth either. Bucky is Tony's only doctor, but only because he put dibs on any future Tony related visits. So it wasn't that nobody else was willing to treat Tony, it was more that Bucky wasn't willing to let anyone else treat Tony.

"So, what's this I hear about you not eating food? Keeping you under observation for malnutrition is counter-productive if you're not eating Tony." Tony frowns at that, his face twisting like he's had something sour.

He hears out and clasps Bucky's hands, looking up at him with wide eyes, "You have to help me. You gotta get me out of here. They keep trying to make me eat hospital food," he says 'hospital food' in a hushed tone, like he's worried Stevie is going to jump out with a tray and shove it down his throat.

(Knowing Stevie, it was completely possible)

"Tony," he says gently, "You have to eat. It's for your own good. You're dangerously low on vitamins and protein, and if we don't get that stuff in your system you could be running the risk of serious illness. Then you'll be shackled to a hospital room for the rest of your life, with no choice but to eat hospital food."

Tony contemplates that for a second, brows furrowing in concentration. "Okay, how about a compromise? I'll eat hospital food, two times out of the day, if you smuggle me in a cheeseburger for lunch."

"How about this? You eat hospital food all times of the day, and I'll buy you a cheeseburger when we discharge you?"

"You mean like a date?" Bucky suddenly becomes intimately aware that Tony is still holding his hand, "You asking me out on a date Doc?"

Bucky wants to say no, he knows that he's supposed to say no, but what comes out is, "Not yet."

Tony's face twists at that, before smoothening out in comprehension, "It's because I'm your patient isn't it. There's rules about this stuff, ethics or whatever."

"I could lose my license over it," Bucky admits, "not to mention that you're still in college."

"I'm a master's student," Tony says breezily, "I'm older than I look. I turn 22 this May. So how long?" Bucky makes a quizzical noise at him and he explains, "How long until it's okay for you to date a patient?"

"6 months," Bucky rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, "There's a bit of debate on it, but six months is pretty standard."

Tony nods, "I can do six months. I can wait six months."

"You have to stay out of the hospital for six months," Bucky says weakly, "No malnourishment, no lab accidents, you can't even get a scrape on your elbow, otherwise I could get written up."

"I can do that," Tony says confidently, and Bucky knows that he should talk him out of it, but he smiles toothily at Bucky, and he's gone, "I can wait six months for you. Can you?"

"Six months," Bucky says back, and it feels like a promise.

Fin

[baobaojng]

secrets of the hill (jung jaehyun) - second

secrets of the hill (jung jaehyun) - first, second, third, fourth, fifth

jung yoonoh (jaehyun) x reader - 1800’s jaehyun!au , arranged marriage! au , supernatural-ish?!au , victorian? i think? !au

themes: angst, fluff, (just some implied smut along the way, i’m far too soft)

reminders: i’m half lazy, so i might not be able to drown myself in as much 1800’s facts as i’m supposed to as a responsible author — SO, yes, this will purely rely on fiction

note: oh hello did i forget to mention the SLOW BURN nature of this story? no? well.. there, i said it.

summary: in the present day you are confused; you do not know who you are and you find yourself on an impossible quest to find out— until you wake up in the 1800’s, engaged to a hauntingly beautiful and uptight man who tries to figure out why the girl he’s been betrothed to has drastically changed.

wordcount: 5,320

>

If a man loses his fiancée for four months, whether or not he liked her during the time that he got to know her and she him, the most obvious course of action when he sees her again after her return is to want to immediately find out why she ever went missing.

So you expect just that: for this man before you to speak to you. Based on the look on his face you could tell that it held a million questions, but as his jaw clenched even rougher at your general direction he only stared for a little while longer until he walked past the both of you. Just when you were about to speak to him too.

You thought Yuta said he was one of the kindest men to ever walk on this Earth? (Or well at least he spoke about ‘his lord’ in a way that the man could feed the land’s armies with only his kindness.)

Straightening the skirt of your dress, up to where your arms can reach, you are embarrassed. Never have you felt so flustered. Knowing you were no real reliable judge of character at the moment, you could only hope that this was a rough encounter. Perhaps his mind is too tired to create a reaction, but that was still unreasonable - you had to admit.

A younger boy who entered with that man was charging toward you in pure glee, and you did not even notice his presence until you were enveloped in a tight hug. This corset was cursed. “Lady Y/N!” He exclaims in enthusiasm, and Yuta immediately notices your need for air.

“That is enough, young lord Donghyuck. I believe the lady cannot breathe.” The butler commands and the young boy stops. His name was Donghyuck, and you heard that he was the lord’s little brother. He lets go quickly when he hears that you let out a squeak.

“Hello my lord.” You greet him, out of breath.

He only looks at you quizzically. Was there something in your teeth? You mirror his expression.

“Oh are you not joking?” The young lord seems worried. “Have we not agreed that you not call me that, lady Y/N?” Your eyes are wide.

“I apologize, it was just a little slip of the tongue.” You try and pretend like you are at fault instead, and you look over at Yuta for some clue - to which he mouths ‘his name,’ repeatedly. This man was a human survival kit. “Donghyuckie.” You add a little magical touch, and at first the young lord cringes but he smiles brightly.

“My brother has walked far enough not to hear that, right?” He looks over and asks Yuta who violently nods his head. “Good. I’m going to get in trouble if he hears that I’m comfortable with you. The last time we were kidding around I had to accompany him to a boring meeting with the barons of the family, it was ridiculous!”

You are about to react, but you feel a pang go through your head— and when you close your eyes you are caught in a daze of light. A scene you cannot control plays in your mind.

~

“Now, now. You must get back to reading your books before your brother catches you.” You warn Donghyuck, who is pouting like the true child that he was. His governess was sick for the day and you took it upon yourself to look over his studies.

“I am not a child, lady Y/N. I think my brother very much knows how capable I am, I need not read another phrase from any of these.” He folds his arms together.

In a sing-song voice you respond. “Oh well, that’s not any fair either. You know very well how much he worries about you. I think he only wants what’s best for you.” He looks at you with glassy eyes, but you know what those eyes mean. It stems deeper than how much his brother cared; reasons why his brother cared too much for it to be normal. You did not mean to indirectly bring anything up, and Donghyuck knows this too - but this was an unspoken truth that everyone always avoided speaking of.

“Well if he did care for me enough he would not treat me like this, I know he’s only trying to keep me as far away from the truth as he can.”

“Don’t say that!” You protest. “Has he not proven himself enough? Donghyuckie, you’re just falling in over your head that’s all. I will allow you to take a break, but I won’t hear of this anymore.”

The younger boy is silent now, but he resorts to a slightly angry whisper. “Must you always defend him because you are going to be wed?”

“That is enough.” His older brother stands by the doorway of the library and he looks over toward the direction of his younger brother who is stricken with guilt, “I will allow this break, brother.” And then he turns to you, “lady Y/N, I hate to demand things of you as I have one too many times - but I will talk to you outside.”

The funniest part of walking outside, following this man, is that you fear him. Not only in that moment, but in every single careful time you try to tiptoe along the ridges of his command. For the most part, you think, he is a respectable man. He has always been generous to people, never turning his curtilage away from anyone who needed it— and sometimes anyone who just wanted it. He always managed his work very well: following scholarly procedures but never afraid of taking risks in the name of success. He has always been gentle, never showing a streak of violence despite sometimes you knew your actions were far too much for him to handle. To add perfectly on top of that, he is best at self-presentation. Both metaphorically and literally. Although regardless of how you think he is, you think that you are always cautious with the words you speak - for you are afraid to offend him, the actions you apply - for you are afraid to embarrass him, the way you are - for you are afraid of seeming inferior to him, and even worse: making him seem inferior to anyone else who knew that the two of you were meant to be wed.

Now he avoids your gaze, looking to his own sides. He lets out a large breath, and you can smell the tobacco he has been smoking. You hated when he did that. “I know I have been very lenient about your interactions with my own brother, but there are some things that I cannot tolerate in my own home. I think that I do not find comfort in you telling him your interpretations of my intentions.”

He has not spoken enough, yet you find that you feel you are shrinking. The man is mot even looking at you.

You wince. “Are your intentions not kind? Am I wrong to believe you want what is best for him?”

“I do want that for him, but he does not need my compassion— and definitely not your’s. You should stop allowing him to act upon his emotions, people like you can only make excuses for him for such a long time until he grows up.” His gaze is stern, and his words hurt.

People like you? “He is a child. You want to take that away from him too? You know very well that he is starting to think for himself now, you cannot take his own freedom to decide away from him. Allow him to dilly-dally, stop making him feel like you are trying to remind him who he is.” The words are being eaten by your inability to even mask confidence, but you say it with a smile even if you are stung in places you never knew you could feel that sensation. As you always do.

“That is not what I was saying, I was asking something else of you when I called you out to talk—“

“But am I not correct? Your actions translate that way, lord Jaehyun.” Never have you tried to talk back to him like this.

“If you cannot have this conversation with me properly, we will not have this conversation at all. Know your place and we will not have to deal with each other this way.”

And like he always does, he walks away to leave you behind, making you feel as though you are wrong.

~

As you recover from practically experiencing the memory that had just flashed through your mind— you learn that there are visitors who frequent the Jeong manor, but Yuta likes to call them residents as they never seem to leave once they visit.

“You never liked the Yang sisters; lady Eleanor and lady Catherine have always been despicable toward you.”

As you delicately place yourself on the velvet sofa, you try to conceptualize whatever ‘despicable’ would mean in the eighteenth century. Did they call you a wench once before, or did they throw stones at you? “I need to know how terrible they are, that is if you agree that they really are terrible.”

Yuta nods his head too quickly, “terrible is an understatement.” He takes his thumb to rest on the tip of his chin to think of any good instance to prove his point. “When the count Taeyong got engaged a few years ago - even before you were promised to lord Jaehyun - they threw you into the pond and pretended it was an accident.” Considering that he had mentioned you apparently grew up around and knew all of these elitist fools was believable, you would not believe that his father would arrange for his son to marry somebody subpar to him. You hated to groom your ego in this life, but it seemed that the conditions you found yourself in were in favorable grounds (so far.) “I remember lord Jaehyun telling me this story when we were on our way home that night and he had a little too much to drink, he told me the only reason why a fight ensued between you and those sisters was because you were defending one of the uglier girls of the Sui family from them. He thought it was heroic.” Just as you thought the story would have some good resolve, you roll your eyes at the mention of this Jaehyun thinking of you kindly.

The very questionable memory you obtained lay some film of bittersweet in your mouth, the idea of him just filling you with challenge. An attractive man with a dangerously sharp tongue. There was no way in hell that memory could be unreal too; it felt like he was breathing his degradation down into your neck.

“Yes, but what about those girls?” Before you could get off topic, you remind Yuta what you were talking about.

“Nasty leeching ladies who think they are royals and want to get on every single one of your nerves is all I can say.” He says in one go and you laugh. “We expect their arrival by tomorrow; they always come by a day after the lord comes home from business. They wait for the gossip before they ever come visit, but the best part this time around is that they still think you are not here.”

After he teaches you some names of prominent people you were to inevitably meet, this was also after the many hours of other things he mentions, you bid the butler a good night as you were far too tired now to function.

You are brushing your hair as you sit sideways, facing the mirror. The only light guiding your task comes from the candles you have lit. Soft knocking sounds come from your door, and you think that maybe it is Yuta - maybe in the 1800’s there were proper sleeping instructions for ladies.

“Come in.” You call, and the door creaks as it opens.

Shock or surprise are common emotions you have felt over the past few days, and to suddenly discover that you are meant to marry this man in this life - or maybe higher powers require you to marry to be able to figure out why you are here - is something all too heavy in itself. When you were looking for some sense of purpose for the entire year you were chasing some worn out mystery, the last thing on your mind was to look for love or to find that in somebody. Except now that you are presented with this convenient option to love or any semblance of, you decide that you automatically associate him with the disgust of your own annoyance. You find that you almost already dislike like this Jeong Jaehyun.

“Give me a few moments to speak with you,” he looks like he does not want to be here, “my own butler won’t mention a thing of your return. And this is the most appropriate thing to do.” The view of him you could see is a reflection from your mirror, despite the poor lighting you could tell he was a very ravishing man. Damn his good looks.

“Most appropriate thing to do?” You allow a sarcastic laugh to leave your lips. “If you do not like the idea of having a conversation with me out of the kindness of your heart ‘my lord,’” the name drips with sarcasm, “then I advise for you to not have one with me at all. I’m sure you are a very busy man, and I do mot see how this does justice to your time.”

“Have I no right to find out what happened to you?” He does not like your answer.

You turn now to face him. “We can cut to the chase.” The man is not familiar with the figure of speech, and when you notice the look on his face you proceed to speak to avoid any suspicion. “You do not have to act like you care. See I know my place now, and just because we’re socially obligated to marry does not mean you’re morally obligated to care.”

His beautiful face falters; he is a little surprised to hear you talk back to him like this - you always acted so kind despite the awkward air shared between the two of you. “What gives you the right to control what I can’t and can care for?”

“My lord, should we not forget who we are?”

He clicks his tongue onto the roof of his mouth to make a sound, “I suppose not.” He turns away, and before he can leave your room he says a little more. “Good night, lady Y/N.”

-

Clinking sounds filled the long and empty dining table as you sat there, still stirring the tea that was served to you about twenty minutes ago. Your posture was straight and stiff, and you very much looked like you did not want to be here. This was your second morning to wake up here in this place, and no matter how much you ached to believe that this still was unreal - you wondered how long you were to be here. Did the universe prepare some sort of puzzle game for you to figure out who Yuno was, or what the page on the (missing) sketchbook meant? It was all still unclear, especially since you had no plan to start with.

Jeong Jaehyun entered the dining room, dressed impeccably, looking at you like you were some sort of intruder— and you thought that in some way you kind of were. You looked at him with the same level of dislike, if not more. He sat down at the other end of the table, and it seemed that this staring competition was going to be imminent.

“So I told the ugly little thing, ‘if you intend to show your face around here, you should at least learn how to wear lace properly.’” The door from which Jaehyun entered was still very much open, so you could clearly hear the echoing voices coming from the hallway. Upon their entry, you could feel your nerves tingle in annoyance with no known particular reason. But maybe because they are exactly what you expect based on Yuta’s descriptions.

Two girls entered, already nearing Jeong Jaehyun as they walked. They were dressed in obviously finer clothing, and you had to admit that they were gorgeous, although there was a stench in character about them already.

So far in the past forty eight hours you have found yourself in this time warp, you were acting upon a lot of your own instincts.

One of them, the blonde (who you know is Eleanor), notices your presence first - and gasps as if she’s seen a ghost. The brunette notices the other’s expression, and stares right at you.

“She’s here?” It comes out as a whisper from the brunette (who you know is Catherine), but the room is so large that even the presence of four people and the furniture could not mask the echoing the sounds made.

“She is.” You say in your normal speaking voice, wrapping your index finger around the ear of your teacup as you lift it up to your mouth to take a sip. Your sat there in pure confidence, their shock was exciting although you did not understand why it made you feel that way. It was really questionable how their immediate response is to throw a light tantrum at your presence, to which you simply smirk to in your cup.

In Jeong Jaehyun’s mind, he finds the sight quite amusing. Despite your rough encounter the night before, he doesn’t ever remember you ever challenging the Yang sisters like this. When he walked into the dining hall he was surprised to see how you looked like you were ready for any challenge. Although you had always dressed in your preferred color of clothing, the way you walked around and carried yourself had an air of confidence to it. In all the years he has known you, you’ve always been a little more awkward and too far too kind for your own good. But now it seems you are like a feline: confidently striding through your actions and waiting to take a scratch at anything that seemed a threat. Maybe the months have thought you something, and that your disappearance was to blame.

“I thought you disappeared into thin air.” Catherine accuses.

You scoff into your tea, which they obviously both take as an insult because their eyes flare into their own lids as you do so. “And I thought that within the four months I was gone, you probably would have decided to do something much much better with your lives than to intrude somewhere you are not of any help.” Slowly looking directly to them you add, “so I think that leaves the two of us wrong, lady Catherine.”

They both gasp, not coming up with anything better to say. Jaehyun snickers very audibly in his seat, and you are surprised that he sides with you on this.

~

The metal feels rough when it comes into contact with your palms, even your callouses are worn out at this point but you do not seem to be taking much rest. Your work station has become a messy array of tools and the many mismatched papers filled with notes and diagrams.

You were currently creating an alarm system for the kitchen: a timer for when anything was already boiling - just so the maids could multitask when they prepared the meals. It was a little side project you took to making, much like the many other things you just came up with on a whim. There was a big unfinished machine in the middle of the room which felt like it staring at you, but at the moment (and honestly, many many other moments) you could not deal with the monstrosity - so you would do easier projects that cleared your mind off of it.

Creating objects that made life convenient was a thing of interest for you. Remembering how it always captured your attention from very early stages in your life, you made sure you learned about it— mastered it. You were lucky that money could override the implications of your gender. The times were not too kind as to accept a woman into this specific education, but you bought your way right through those odds and it proved to be effective.

With just one last bolt secured in place, you were finally finished.

You would have felt the pure joy of relief after tiring your arms and hands, but Jaehyun walked through your doors without permission. Once again you were reminded that he was not the kindest man when it came to you, and you remembered why you sought out refuge in the room designated for you to practice your profession.

Because both his guests were getting on your nerves, and you did not have half the balls to tell him - so instead you excused yourself without a word and courteously waked out of dinner. You ran to the west wing of the mansion, stopping at nothing to find your place of solace. Your one mistake was leaving the door open.

“I know we are never truly comfortable in each other’s company, but I do want to say that if there is a problem that needs to be addressed then I want you to tell me so we can sort those differences out.” He quickly declares, but you do not understand where this all comes from.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand.” You say as you take a cloth and start wiping at the contraption you just finished, but you look at him with curiosity.

“Well I think if you would excuse yourself out of dinner because you cannot handle sharing a meal with me, I would much rather you sit through and pretend as if there is nothing bothering you.” Jaehyun begins to press at your buttons, and inside you cannot breathe.

“That isn’t true.” You eat at your words, but you cannot even look at him.

“If it wasn’t true then my guests would not be speaking of it.” He accuses, and now you can better understand where his anger is coming from. Always has he been so defensive of the Yang sisters. There wasn’t any use in arguing with him now; you knew that he would be set on believing them. “If there’s anything I ask of you, it’s for you to stop embarrassing this household.”

It is painful when you bite your tongue, but you nod your head in return because you know that you do not want to deal with this - and you do not know how. Tears could come out of your eyes any second now, but you keep them from falling. You were going to endure these misunderstandings, as you always did anyway. It was easy to say that you could go on and get out of there, but looking at all of the projects you’ve conducted and the research you’ve put into paper because this place allows you to do as you please with your work— you know you cannot find any other safe place other than the manor.

Donghyuck walks into his brother’s study, and sighs dramatically. Too dramatically.

Jaehyun knows this means that his little brother has something to say, particularly something that bothers him.

“What is it, Donghyuck?” Jaehyun asks so that this would be over with, he had some documents to review and he did not want to prolong his brother’s presence. The last time his little brother burst into the room and sighed as loud as he did, it was because he broke his third wooden flute. Little things that did not really matter to Jaehyun and could be easily fixed with money.

“Lady Y/N has locked herself inside her quarters again.” His little brother pouts and Jaehyun already knows that he is to blame for this— except he knows that he will not

tell the younger lord, “she won’t tell me why. I do know that she tends to be very kind and she prefers not to argue with everybody else, but I think the orphan comment lady Catherine made during dinner was too much. Maybe we need to convince lady Y/N not to be upset about it?” His brother speedily explained, and Jaehyun was left to interpret this. Orphan comment?

“I do not remember hearing anything during dinner.” He tells his brother, but the younger one shakes his head to disagree.

“Just before you joined us right when the lady excused herself, lady Catherine shamed her and called her an orphan.”

From what Jaehyun was told by Catherine, the reason why you walked away so abruptly the moment he entered the dining hall was because you mentioned that you could not stomach his presence. Leading him to confront you in the designated workspace. This was the version of the truth that he knew, and it was the version of truth he was too prideful to even question. Both of the Yang sisters have always outwardly declared their distaste of you, so he did not think twice about the certainty of any orchestration against you. Although he also knew you were closer to his younger brother compared to any of the Yang sisters, he also knew for a fact that his brother would never like to him about anything. He trusted Donghyuck and Yuta this way, that they would never deny him the truth.

Everybody knew of the ill fate of your immediate family, leaving you to be an orphan. But in all the years he knew you, and all the months you lived under his roof - you never mentioned a word of this to him. Probably because he never truly accepted the idea of being betrothed, and you were always just too kind and allowed him to be cold toward you no matter how abrasive his words and his actions became. So to be surprised by this truth was to also be surprised by the guilt: that he assumed and acted upon anger all too quickly.

Jeong Jaehyun never mentioned this again, his pride too high to apologize, but he promised himself that he would be more attentive of you and more so the interactions you had with the Yang sisters.

~

“Yuta, did I have a place to work in the manor before. To maybe practice my engineering?” You ask the butler as pours you some medicinal tea, your head hurts from the vision you just incurred after breakfast and you were now in your bed trying to get rid of the pain through rest. If these visions were real, then you could guess that everything in them were real too.

He looks surprised when you ask this, never getting around to showing you all the nooks and crannies of the house during the first time he showed you around. You asking such a specific question about the house (and the question being right) was not at all expected.

“Yes miss Y/N, one of the rooms at the end of the west wing where there are stairs leading down to the basement floor of the manor,” but then he wonders, “unless you have gone around the manor on your own already?”

But you turn to him hurriedly, gripping at his wrist. “I think I’m going mad, Yuta.” You tell him softly, not to catch him too off guard but he only looks like he is willing to listen. “Memories are coming to me, and I don’t want to believe that they are mine but they feel like they are.”

“Memories?”

“Of this manor, of the people here. It’s all very unclear, and I am not sure how they come to me. That is why I remember my workspace.” You explain, finishing the tea he served. Yuta only quietly cleans up. “Why are you not calling me mad?” You ask him and he pauses.

“I grew up in this mansion with the lords, and they would like to say that they treat me like a brother. It is really a beautiful place, away from the bustle of the centre.” He describes with a smile. “But do not let the countryside fool you; it is much scarier where we are. These walls tell speak many stories, and I am in the point of my life where nothing here truly surprises me anymore.”

Everything used is arranged on his tray, and before he can walk out he finally says, “I think it should have left an impression when I found you looking around in the antiquities, miss Y/N. Good night.”

Slumber is not a friend you make that night, as you are filled with too much thought - pondering upon what Yuta had told you. The overthinking causing you to magnify all of the troublesome details in the dark of your room: the dust, the smell, the thick sheets. You scramble in the darkness, looking for a candle and something to light the fire.

To your surprise, you allow your feet to take you where they can remember. The halls seem long and winding in the dark, the only light you see comes from the warm hues of your candle. Wax dripping around the metal that holds it.

There is a metal door, with a heavy latch that blocks the entrance. You think that this it is impossible to enter, but your mind goes back to the memory that went through your mind earlier and you allow your eyes to close. Feeling each curve and groove of the door, you press upon some of them - and it works. They are like buttons that sink inside the frame of the door, and although the illusion of the latch is the most eye-catching thing about this door it is pure genius how it all actually works.

Once you enter, all the lamps in the room light up and you follow the template of vein like structures that lead to the lamps on the wall— a mechanism that sparks up the gas lamps whenever the door is opened. A primitive wiring system in itself.

Although it all should be alien to you, your eyes flicker across the room and it looks like how it was in your head. Messy but at the same time neat, the big contraption sitting in the middle of the room - dust collecting at the top of all of the objects in the room. They were right when you were told that you were gone for four months, because the molds growing in the corners perfectly said so too. It feels like wonderland as you observe all the tools and the way they were designed— it seemed that they were not created in this century, looking like that from the future.

You stumble upon the large table in the room, covered in all random objects. Then you turn to the papers scattered, and you see that the penmanship in most of the notes are unmistakably your own. Thinking that you own self, if this was truly you, would probably not leave any clues in notes about machines - you turn your attention elsewhere.

Reaching out in a pile of envelopes all stacked upon each other, you read the labels to find out who addressed them out to you.

Lord Taeyong was inquiring about how he can improve his makeshift security system.

Some duke about the rejection of his proposal from years ago.

And the last two letters— probably the most controversial ones of the evening: the Count Moon Taeil in an unopened envelope, and one from Yuno with only his name and yours written on the front.

end of second part

next: third part

[misschiuahua]

Marjorie

Explicit - Part 1 of 3

Summary:

Marjorie is a colonist onboard of the Covenant, when a power surge wakes her up from her stasis and destroys her pod.

They're still six years away from their destination and she can't go back to sleep. Her only companion is the synthetic, Walter.

Nobody could fault her for feeling snappish.

However... It seems like Walter has a suggestion to make her feel better.

Notes:

So, don't think too long about this one. It's just an excuse for sex with Walter inside the Covenant.

It doesn't follow the movie (so they never land and they never meet David).

Just a nice time with a nice synthetic.

This is pure smut. You’ve been warned.

Chapter 1

They were still six years away from their final destination -Origae-6 -when her stasis pod malfunctioned. Actually, Marjorie’s pod wasn’t the only one that malfunctioned, but she was the only one that survived it.

A shockwave made a few systems burn and created a fire inside the ship. Despite Walter’s fast response to it, 7 colonists burned to death while other 12 suffocated inside their pods. Marjorie was the only one who survived, but her pod was damaged. She couldn’t go back.

She’d have to wait six years to reach their new home awake.

Walter -the synthetic -told her that -as she was unharmed -and there were no further threats to the ship, he couldn’t wake the rest of the crew.

He assured her he’d do his best to fix her pod so she could go back into stasis, but soon enough, it became clear it wasn’t possible.

Marjorie had always prided herself in being a strong woman, one that could handle adversities without breaking down. However, the day that Walter told her she wouldn’t be able to go back into stasis, she’d cried. A lot.

The idea of spending six years alone with a synthetic, travelling through space wasn’t a particularly pleasant one.

Arrangements were soon made; she got a cot and Walter procured food for her.

Marjorie did her best to keep busy, but she was a botanist, and there were no plants to look at. She managed to find things to read, research, but she still felt so useless.

Time went by slowly in space. Or so it seemed to her.

After one year and a half, it felt as if she’d already lived one hundred years on that blasted spaceship.

Walter was decent company -for a synthetic, at least. He talked to her often, because he was concerned her mind might deteriorate if she didn’t have interaction. He also made her exercise and feed well.

It was like having a nanny.

Marjorie believed she’d handled things well enough, if one considered her position.

But… After 18 months, she wasn’t that well anymore.

She snapped a few times at Walter for no reason at all; she was feeling cranky and trapped. Her skin felt electrified and sensitive and she was just so fucking…

There was a knock on her door.

“Come in.” She called, snapping a book shut.

It was Walter, obviously.There wasn’t anybody else.

She sighed. “Walter. I’m sorry about earlier.” She told him, even as he entered her room and let the door close behind himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it’s not fair to treat you this way.”

He was silent for a minute. “If I may, Marjorie?” He asked, in that overly polite and formal way he had of speaking.

“Yes?”

“I’m aware of what the problem is.” He told her quite simply. “You’re sexually frustrated.”

“I beg your pardon?” Was he for real?

“You’re feeling pent-up because of the situation, so I imagine you aren’t able to find release on your own.”

He wasn’t wrong. Marjorie had always been healthy and open about her sexuality, however in those last months, she’d been unable to bring herself relief through masturbation.

Perhaps because of this feeling of being trapped inside this ship, wasting so much time, her libido had been affected. After a few -frustrating -tries, she gave up on masturbating all together.

If she was to be honest, she couldn’t find pleasure in the act anymore. Her fantasies vanished from her head, probably because the situation looked so bleak.

“As you were able before…”

“Oh my god!” She snapped. “You’ve been keeping track of this?”

“I’ve been keeping track of your health.” He pointed out, like it was the same thing.

“I can’t believe this.” She sighed, hiding her face in her hands, feeling humiliated.

“If I may?”

Now what? “Yes?” She groaned.

“My design is considered attractive to many people.” He spoke.

Wait… What?

Marjorie looked at Walter in confusion. “I… Guess.”

She wasn’t blind. She knew he was attractive in that very clean kind of way. And she couldn’t say he was terrible in general; despite her moods and her pressing solitude, Walter had been a constant companion. Whoever had programmed him, had made him quite…

“...so you would consider me.” He finished, and Marjorie realised she hadn’t actually paid attention to what he’d said.

“Consider you for what?”

“To relieve your tension.”

It took Marjorie way too long to understand what he was saying.

Not exactly to understand it, but to accept he was actually offering to…

“Are you suggesting we have sex?” She gasped.

“I’m fully capable of performing it.” Walter informed her, like he was telling her he could administer CPR. “It’s part of my programing.”

Who the hell would program him for such things? What was even the point?

“So you’re like a sex bot?”

“No. This is a feature to be used at my discretion, if I find it necessary.”

“And it’s necessary?”

“It might make you feel less stressed and snappish.”

Great. The synthetic was telling her she needed to get laid. Just wonderful.

Marjorie took a deep breath in. “That’s very…” Another breath in. “Kind of you, but I’m fine.”

Walter didn’t seem like he agreed with that, but he didn’t push. He told her that, if she reconsidered it, he’d be available.

Awesome.

***

The problem was… Once Walter presented the offer, Marjorie couldn’t think of anything but it.

She saw herself watching him more and more, and that question kept burning in her mind: why not?

For the first time in what seemed like forever, she was actually feeling something other than worry and loneliness. There was a thrill deep inside her, a desire…

It took her two weeks to decide to just go with it.

She was finishing her dinner, when she gathered her courage. “Walter?”

“Yes, Marjorie?”

“Is your… offer still standing?”

He turned to her with those old eyes of his. “Yes, Marjorie.”

“Okay.” She let out a breath. “I know you have some duties now, but… Once you’re free, can you stop by my room?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, then got up and left, hurrying to her room. She thought that asking would be the difficult part, but Walter wasn’t a difficult man -synthetic. He wouldn’t gloat or tease her about her need; he’d just go with it.

For her health, apparently.

Once she was back in her room she paced, then organized -which took like five minutes, because she didn’t have things to make a mess -then paced some more. She washed up, then changed clothes, then remembered she had three outfits and he’d seen them all.

She wasn’t trying to seduce him.

When Walter finally knocked on her door, Marjorie forced herself to sit down on her bed. She cleared her throat before telling him to come in.

He entered much like he had two weeks before, and Marjorie saw the door closing behind him.

“Just this once.” She told him from the start.

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Is there anything that…” Oh god, why was this so strange? “Anything you can’t do?”

“Nothing that will damage my body or system.” He informed her simply.

Fair enough. “And if I don’t feel comfortable…”

“Whenever you wish to stop, just say the word.”

“Right…” She was really doing this, right? “Come here. We’ll try… Kissing for a bit. I guess.”

She laid down on the bed, and Walter came and laid next to her.

“Okay.” She took another deep breath. This wasn’t looking like that great of an idea now. “Kissing.”

“Yes, Marjorie.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly. Marjorie thought he’d taste like rubber -like kissing a boot might taste like -but it wasn’t that at all. It was a bit strange -his lips weren’t warm, but they also weren’t exactly cold -and they did feel a lot like normal lips.

Walter kissed her slowly for a while, until she pressed her tongue to his lips and he opened up for her.

It was strange, but it wasn’t bad. Actually, he was a great kisser. He matched her rhythm perfectly, like he was learning and applying what he’d learned immediately. It was strange not feeling his breath against hers, but Marjorie was enjoying this.

She’d never thought she’d missed physical contact this much.

Her hand went to his nape as she pulled him deeper into her kiss. Walter’s hand dove under her shirt, but only to caress her waist, not going any further.

Marjorie suddenly felt hungrier than she’d felt in a long time.

“Walter.” She gasped against his mouth. “Here.” She pushed his hands down, hoping he’d get message without her actually having to say it.

Fortunately, he did.

His hand found its way inside her loose pants and into her panties. His finger teased her clit in slow circles, before venturing further down.

Marjorie felt a bit embarrassed to admit she was already wet and waiting for him, but she didn’t mind that much at this point.

Walter put a finger inside her and she gasped into his mouth. The heel of his hand kept pressure on her clit, as his finger fucked her slowly.

Marjorie pulled her shirt up, exposing her breasts to him. “Here. Please.” She whined softly.

Once again, he understood what she wanted without her having to explicitly say it.

His lips closed around her nipple and sucked it, making Marjorie mewl in pleasure.

At some point, he added another finger inside her, the pumping motion getting faster and harder. The heel of his hand was mercilessly grinding against her clit.

He crooked his fingers inside her pussy, and Marjorie came with a scream.

She’d missed that sweet release.

She laid there, sprawled on her back, trying really hard to catch her breath, while Walter patiently waited for her.

“Take off your shirt.” She told him, her face flushed and her skin covered in sweat. “Then lay on your back.”

Walter did as told, while she got up to get rid of her own clothes. Once she was naked, she straddled his thighs and opened his zipper, just enough to free his cock.

She pumped him with her hands -even though he probably didn’t need her help to get hard. She just wanted to feel it, to get this sense of -fake -power.

He grew hard on her hand. He was long and nicely thick, and Marjorie wondered -not for the first time -why the fuck he was even built and programed this way.

People had some weird ideas.

But then again… She was about to use him, so…

She rubbed her pussy against his hard cock, like a cat in heat, spreading her wetness on him. She then grasped him and held him in place while she lowered herself inch by inch.

He was thick and it had been a while for her, so she did it slowly, loving the stretch of him, and how his cock felt so real and so good inside her.

Walter’s hands had gone to her waist, but he wasn’t pulling her down on him. It felt like he was just giving her balance to keep her pace.

It seemed like forever until he was all in, and she was sitting pretty on his nice cock.

“Oh god.” She felt so full and so alive.

Marjorie leaned forward, finally looking at Walter again. His eyes were fixed on her face, taking all the details in.

It felt incredibly hot just then.

She put her hands on his chest and moved experimentally. Oh yes, good to go.

At first, she rode him slowly. She let herself feel every inch of him moving in and out of her pussy. She enjoyed the feeling of his body dragging across hers as she moved. His hands helped her along, but he didn’t rush her; he let her set the pace. She let her nipples brush over his chest and kissed him long and slow.

She felt languid and as if she could do this for hours.

Then, something started building and coiling inside her, and slow wasn’t that good anymore.

She straightened up and started riding his cock properly, bouncing up and down on it. She moved his right hand to her tit, showed him how to massage it for her.

Her own hand went to her clit and she rubbed it furiously.

She was really close, just so close…

Walter pinched her nipple and she came, calling his name. However, since she didn’t really need to worry about his pleasure, she kept riding him to come down, instead of just stopping.

She liked this way much better.

She dismounted him and fell back on the tiny bed, breathing even harder than before, but feeling extremely satisfied.

“Thanks.” She murmured to Walter, still not believing they’d actually done it.

He sat up. “You’re welcome, Marjorie.”

She thought he’d just leave, but Walter -always so attentive -cleaned himself up, then did the same for her.

“I’ll leave you to rest.” He told her softly, since her eyes were already closing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Marjorie.”

“Thanks, Walter…” She murmured sleepily once again.

As far as unique events went… This was pretty great.

[hatsukeii]

Hiii do you have any relationship Hc's for goshiki

Hmmm this is gonna take a bit, but I have some ideas in mind:D

Our weird bowl cut boy lol

He’s gonna be Shiratorizawa’s ace... someday.

I’m gonna split this to two parts, because I write long hcs and I wanna write out how you guys dealt with your feelings before actually dating.

👾Goshiki👾

✨Confession✨

- Really clueless at first.

- By really clueless I mean REALLY CLUELESS.

- When you joined the volleyball team as manager, he definitely tried to talk big, trying to give you a good impression of who is and why you “shouldn’t mess with him.”

- He refused to get close to you, despite your efforts in trying to get him to loosen up.

- “You’re just gonna be a distraction.”

- “I’m here to beat Ushijima and become the ace of Shiratorizawa, not make friends.”

- Ah yes, the typical no bullshit shounen anime protagonist that ends up somehow becoming the little brother of the team.

- And also ends up as a tiny crush for a certain someone.

- You don’t really know when you started noticing him that much. He was kinda just... there.

- But alas, seeing how determined he is to get to the top? Mad respect.

- Maybe with time that respect slowly became admiration and attraction.

- You wanna know how determined he is? Think Kageyama, but times ten.

- This bitch waits for everyone to leave the gym after practise, then continues to train his ass off for hours. I’m talking 4-5 extra hours of training.

- You only know this because you stay behind in the gym to clean up the equipment, and he doesn’t leave the gym when you do, which is about an hour or two after practice ends.

- Whenever you ask him when he’s leaving, he just waves you off halfheartedly, usually muttering a casual “I’ll be leaving soon, don’t worry.”

- And if you think that’s it? Oh nononono.

- There has been one instance where you saw him passed out.

- Like Goshiki trained so hard he just blacked out due to exhaustion.

- How you found him?

- Well,

- Your dumbass left your textbooks in the gym, so you had to go back and retrieve it.

- It was like what, 8 in the evening, but the lights and air conditioning were still on.

- You were already weirded out, so you decided to be extra careful. You know how high schoolers are these days, who knows what they’re doing behind closed doors sometimes.

- You creak the doors open just a bit, taking a peep.

- And your eyes land on a motionless Goshiki just laying on the gym floor.

- That scene scared the shit out of you.

- You checked his pulse, and his breathing. To your relief, his pulse was still there, although it wasn’t as strong as it should be. However, his breathing was definitely shallower than usual.

- Thank god for that emergency treatment course you enrolled for last year. You knew how to treat Goshiki almost immediately, raising his legs and keeping them up with a stool you found. What you didn’t expect, was for him to not wake up even after 5 whole minutes of you checking on him.

- That time you literally called an ambulance.

- Needless to say you definitely scolded him when he woke up, before forcing him to eat and drink something.

- Turns out for the past months or so, he’s been training for an extra 4-5 hours a day, without enough food or water to replenish himself.

- It would be about 9-10pm when he got home, where he had to finish his homework and finally get some food in his system, mostly leftovers. When he’s done with homework, it would be around 1am, which would be when he actually cleans up and hauls his ass to bed.

- He has to wake up at 5am for morning practise.

- You were about to punch him when he told the doctor all that.

- Since that worrying experience, you’ve forced Goshiki to leave the gym after a maximum of two hours.

- You walked him to the bus station after every single practise, just to make sure he doesn’t pass out.

- (And also to stare at him while he listens to music and tosses the ball occasionally, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

- Goshiki honestly appreciates the walks to the bus stop and the casual conversations you guys can hold.

- And to be honest, he was pretty surprised you’d actually go along with what you said in the hospital and “Walk him home every single day until he’s done with volleyball in highschool.”

- These days you patiently wait for him to finish his extra practise, and set an alarm for 2 hours. Once those 2 hours are up, you’re dragging his ass out of the gym with his stuff all packed neatly. No buts, nope, don’t wanna hear it.

- Maybe it was the determination you had to make sure he was safe and healthy, or the dumb conversations you had every single day about mermaids getting laid and unicorns getting horny.

- Because with time, Goshiki eventually succumbed to his feelings and admitted to himself.

- He had fallen for you. Hard.

- And there was nothing he could do about it.

- Except,

- Avoid you as much as he could.

- Poor little Goshiki was so clueless that he thought avoiding you would eventually cause his feelings to just disappear like how my dad went to get the milk.

- Whenever he saw you in the hallways, he’d just blush and walk the other way, even if it was the opposite direction of where he was supposed to be going.

- Nope, no fist bump, hi five, nothing.

- Alas, he couldn’t avoid you much anyways, since you were the manager for the volleyball team, and you also persisted on walking him to the bus stop every single god damned day.

- All he could do was try and muster up the driest possible responses to anything you said.

- “So, how was practice? You feeling anywhere near as powerful as Ushiwaka yet?”

- “Eh, it was okay.”

- “You want something to eat or drink? We can go to that boba store around the corner from last week and get something.”

- “Nah, I’m good.”

- You were weirded out, to say the least.

- Since when did Goshiki pass on boba?

- “Oi, Tsutomu, are you feeling okay? You’re acting a bit odd.”

- You raised your hand to his forehead, feeling the warmth on your palm as Goshiki flared 50 different shades of red.

- “U-uh, my stop’s there, I’ll see you tomorrow bye-” he rambled, stuttering over his words before zooming towards the wrong station.

- “What just happened?”

- All Goshiki could do was get home as quick as possible, finish all his work, eat up, clean himself, and just scream into his pillow.

- “I’ve been avoiding her for so long, why is she still stuck in there?”

- He was being so blatantly obvious with avoiding you that the volleyball team eventually had to speak up.

- That went terribly.

- “Goshiki, why aren’t you focusing these days? Is there something troubling you?” -Shirabu

- “Plus, you haven’t even spared a glance at y/n, let alone talked to her. Aren’t you guys like best friends?” -Tendou

- “Goshiki do you like her?” -Ushijima

- Goshiki almost choked on his water.

- No, not almost. He definitely choked on his water.

- “What? ME? PLEASE! OF COURSE NOT!” -Goshiki, in denial, blushing

- “Seems like you do to us.” -Ushijima, as blunt as usual

- “Well then, you should’ve just told me Goshiki. I never knew you disliked me.” 

- Oh shi-

- Well isn’t it convenient? You were standing right there with volleyballs in hand when he decided to belt out that statement.

- For the next few weeks, you both avoided each other as much as you can. You even stopped walking him to the bus stop.

- Until the day before their match against Karasuno.

- At this point, Goshiki had had enough.

- This was troubling him to an extent already, and he also had the match to worry about.

- At the end of practice, he waited until all the members of the team (especially Tendou) left the gym, before harshly pulling you into the storage room, pulling you down to sit next to him on the floor.

- “What do you want Goshiki-”

- “I like you. That’s it.”

- What the hell.

- Your mouth hung open, you face and neck feeling hot, as he made his way back into the gym, practising yet again. All you could do was sit in the storage room, still not comprehending what had just happened.

- Not knowing how to deal with this, you grabbed your stuff, and made your way home as quick as you can, not wanting to deal with the situation at hand yet. You flop onto your bed once you reach your room, and scream into the pillow out of frustration.

- “Why did I do that? That was my chance, I blew it! I’m so stupid oh my god.”

- Goshiki was also being extra aggressive with the volleyballs too. By the time he had finished his extra practise, his palms were scathed and sore, red marks scattered all over.

- During the match agaisnt Karasuno, he was extra nervous, not wanting to screw up.

- But at the same time, the events of yesterday replayed in his mind like a broken record. The way you stared at him in shock, not even making a sound. How you left the gym as quick as it happened, not sparing even a glance at him. It made him regret ever befriending you in the first place. He should’ve known that this was bound to happen.

- This led to him being extra aggressive during the match. Both teams were shocked and quite frankly, a bit intimidated too.

- Goshiki was fueled by all his pent up rage against himself, a seemingly dark aura radiating off of him on the court. He was stupid. An absolute imbecile. A moron. An idiot that put his heart on his sleeve, not once thinking about the consequences it could bring.

- When coach Washijo decided to scream “if you’re gonna stare, at least stare at a damn girl” at him, he sneered so hard at him his face was about to become permanently contorted. Even his own coach, the spawn of satan, was taken aback.

- The fact that Shiratorizawa ended up losing did not help. At all. All that did was make his day even shittier.

- Until you finally told him you reciprocated his feelings.

- Not long after the loss, the team all went their own way home, feeling miserable about the game.

- Goshiki had his earphones in, walking towards the bus station, head hung low as he silently sobbed, feeling like absolute shit.

- You caught up to him, before basically engulfing him in a huge hug from behind, nuzzling your head into his shoulder, refusing to let go.

- He was flustered, to say the least. Frozen in place, tears continued to stream down his face in steady streaks.

- “I’m sorry for your loss today, and for yesterday too.”

- His eyes widened at your apology as he furiously wiped the hot tears, his eyes still slightly puffy and his nose still red.

- At this moment, Goshiki needed someone. Desperately. In one swift motion, he had turned around and held you with an iron grip, a hand pushing your head into his chest, his back hunched with his head in the crook of your neck as he cried, this time letting the sobs and whimpers become audible. His salty tears met your skin, rolling down to your collarbone.

- “So the reason why you’ve been avoiding me was because you liked me?”

- Goshiki nodded into your neck, still crying.

- “Well I’ve liked you since the start of the school year too, so don’t worry. I’m here for you.”

- Hearing that, he detached himself from your neck, staring at you, surprised at how calm you were and how dense he had been.

- “Wait for real?”

- You were in a hurry, since you promised to run some errands, so you did the first thing that popped into your mind.

- On your tiptoes, you gave his lips a quick peck, before running away, your face completely red.

- “For the record Tsutomu, we’re dating now I guess.”

✨Dating✨

- What a sweetie.

- At first, he’s super secretive with the relationship, not wanting people to find out.

- Especially not his parents. He would have hell personally sent to him in a cute little death package if they ever found out he was dating someone.

- He tried his best not to show any trace of him being in a relationship during practice.

- But alas, Tendou once sneaked up on you two holding hands at school and instantly knew.

- This redhead announced it to the whole team that you two were dating and you almost beat him up.

- Now, he’s opened up a lot more about this than when it first started.

- No, his parents still don’t know about you two.

- But his friends knew not to hit on you, and the volleyball team would constantly tease him when you walked by, making kissy noises and over the top fake moans. Tendou once shoved two balls up his chest just to imitate you. You looked over to see your third year senior with an ahegao face, two volleyballs unevenly shoved into his shirt as he skipped around. You stared in disgust, giving him a slight scowl before turning around and continuing with your shit.

- Needless to say his other balls were absolutely wrecked by Goshiki.

- Will spoil you so badly like damn.

- Occasional gifts from lil bowl cut is something you should definitely expect.

- Sometimes you’ll just randomly find a new pair of earrings or a new phone case on your desk with a note from him, while your classmates stare in awe and lowkey envy you from afar.

- Very, very frequent dates.

- I’m talking like every weekend, and sometimes even after school on friday.

- Dates planned by Goshiki aren’t ever extravagant or anything, but god damn do they make you feel blessed. Usually it’s just to a cute cafe, maybe a carnival, or a movie date.

- Dates planned by you though? Ohohohoho he was in for so much fun. I’m talking trampoline parks, amusement parks, gaming cafes, volleyball dates, all that fun shit.

- You would let him teach you how to play volleyball, and end up laughing your ass off at how incredibly bad you were while he kinda just gives up on teaching you and goofs around.

- Your hands running through his hair is literally the best thing he has ever felt no cap.

- Likes to cup your cheeks a lot, just to make you flustered.

- (Secretly loves it so much when he’s able to make you all blushy because oh my god you look so cute.)

- You’re not allowed to sleepover at his, nor is he allowed to sleepover at yours because strict parents!

- The rare times when your parents allow you to go “help your friend Goshiki study,” you guys actually do serious studying.

- Then right after that comes the cuddling.

- Okay let’s be real, Goshiki would probably be really awkward at the start.

- He’d probably try make sure you were comfortable, so his body would be twisted into some weird position.

- But he eventually found his favourite way to cuddle with you, in a way where both of you could just lay in peace comfortably without breaking your backs.

- Most times, he would lie sideways on his bed facing you. He’d snake one hand around your lower back, the other to your head as he pulls you in close, resting you against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, which sped up every time you nuzzled against him.

- Cute.

- Will give you pecks on the lips every single morning when he first sees you, wherever he is.

- It do not matter to him how many people are watching, he do not care. At all.

- Holds your hand e v e r y w h e r e .

- He’s also very fond of forehead kisses.

- He just finds them so heartwarming and intimate in a non sexual way.

- Every time something was bothering you, or you were just breaking down because of how shitty life was, he knows exactly what to do.

- He’d pull you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head while drawing circles on your back with his fingers.

- If it was worse and you were crying, he likes to wipe your tears for you, kissing the stains on your cheeks, before planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

- Loves it when you wear his hoodies.

- They’re oversized on you and oh my god sweater paws are the death of him. 

- You’re honestly relieved he’s not looking for anything sexual. 

- He’s too pure for that shit, keep his innocence.

- You made a promise to cheer for him wearing his jersey whenever he played in matches, and you’ve never broken it.

- PDA.

- SO MUCH PDA.

- This boy. He loves showing you off to his teammates so much.

- “I may not be as good as Ushijima at volleyball yet, but at least I’m not a crusty single bitch.” -Goshiki to some rando that insulted his skills and personality

- “You guys go look for your own plus ones to the school dance, I’m keeping y/n.” -Goshiki to his friends

- “Stop imitating her Tendou-san, it’s insulting to her. You’re too odd to get even close to imitating her accurately.” -Goshiki to Tendou who had volleyballs in his shirt and pants

- Please just protect him at all costs, he’s so precious.

Love how the request was for relationship hcs and I ended up writing more backstory lmaoo

Still hope you liked it though I worked on this for days xx🥺🥰

[sshbpodcast]

Tales from the Holodeck: DS9 Fanfic: Chris’s Story

Not only has A Star to Steer Her By wrapped all of Deep Space Nine, but your podcast hosts are also celebrating our fifth anniversary of bringing you through all of Star Trek! As a treat, we’ve concocted DS9-themed fanfic stories and teleplays in our much-celebrated “Tales from the Holodeck” series that you can listen to us cold read here (this one starts at 39:05). Read on for the transcript of Chris’s Weyoun-Ee’char story below, that might pilot a whole new series we’re all asking for!

[images © Paramount/CBS]

“Dude, Where’s My Ee’char?”

By Chris

Random picks: Weyoun, Ee’char

“Tea, earl grey, hot?”

Miles O’Brien instinctively glanced up at those words. Surely not. Sure enough, a lanky Andorian walked up to the counter and accepted the drink that had been called out. Admiral Picard – well, not Admiral, anymore, but even thinking of him as “Jean-Luc” was bizarre to O’Brien – had less than no reason to be hanging around Starfleet Academy. Or Starfleet anything, for that matter.

“Not that I can entirely blame him,” he mused to himself, going back to the PADD containing last week’s warp field dynamics exam. “Nothing’s felt right since Romulus was destroyed. And then Mars…maybe Keiko’s right. Maybe it’s time to retire.”

He sighed and put down his stylus. Twenty years of teaching at Starfleet academy and even he could see how things were shifting. The students grew less and less enthused, dropout rates going up, those that did stay becoming so by-the-book when it came to everything that it was maddening.

“They’re just lacking in imagination,” he’d moaned to Keiko one day. “If I’d thought like them we’d’ve never got the Defiant working like she did. They think the deflector array is just for deflecting things.”

He had immediately realized how ridiculous and old-mannish it had sounded. But even his wife had been on Starfleet ships long enough to get it. Everything on a ship potentially had a purpose no one had ever dreamed of, and dreaming it up in that critical moment could be the difference between getting the ship home and a warp core breach.

“Professor O’Brien?” came a strangely-familiar voice from behind him. He turned and saw what he thought, at first, must have been a Romulan because they were smiling. And there was a sardonic edge to the tone that didn’t seem terribly Vulcan, either. But the fellow had that waxlike pallor that was unique to the latter, something their cousin species had evolved away over their centuries apart.

“Yes. Can I help you?”

“No, but my employer believes he can help you.”

Well, this was shady. Was Section 31 out for belated revenge? Maybe someone had finally slipped in Starfleet Intelligence and the Orion syndicate found out he’d worked undercover against them? Could it be that some T’Lani was still cross about what he and Julian had revealed about their corruption? The grudge could’ve gone further back; someone related to the incident at Setlik III had tracked him down. Christ, for someone who’d only ever been an engineer he’d sure managed to pile up a list of old enemies that could come calling. Ought to at least make him an honorary Commander for that.

“And he would be?”

“An old friend.” The mystery man reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, red figurine. The coonskin cap was unmistakable. “He said this would explain. He remembers the hours you and the good Doctor spent on this.”

So it wasn’t Julian, but someone who knew how they’d passed their time in their DS9 days. Didn’t rule out Section 31, or necessarily a few others, but it did make him feel a little better. He realized the man was still holding out the figure to him, so he reached out and took it, putting it in the bag he’d been carrying his PADD and some miscellany in.

“My employer understands that you’re too cautious a man to just meet somewhere.” The man’s voice – what was it that was so familiar? – had dropped even further. “Be at your desk in twenty minutes. A signal will come in. Use the code on the bottom of the figure.”

The man turned without another word and strode off. O’Brien raised his eyebrows and watched him go. He’d have to tell Julian about this next time they talked; he’d be jealous. Goodness knows how long it had been since his old friend had been involved in any cloak-and-dagger shenanigans.

*

Despite everything O’Brien was a little surprised when, back at his desk, his computer began to chirp. The text on the screen read “incoming external transmission”. External transmissions were always supposed to go through central comms; only an Admiral could bypass that procedure, normally. He turned the little figure over and punched in the numbers he saw there.

“Ah, my dear Professor O’Brien!”

“Ga-” O’Brien stopped himself. For some reason he felt if he said the full name of the Cardassian now grinning at him from the screen it would just summon the whole of Starfleet security. Just behind him and to his left stood the mystery Vulcan/Romulan from the cafe.

“You look well, Professor,” Garak continued, not acknowledging whether or not he had caught the Engineer’s odd outburst.

“Having you call me that is a bit weird,” O’Brien admitted. “How about Chief? I think that’s still technically my rank.”

“Very well, Chief. I believe you know my associate?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Oh, how silly of me,” the man said, reaching up. “I still have the mask on.”

His hand slid down his face, and the telltale webbing of a holographic disguise flickered to life as the pallor, eyebrows, and eyes vanished. Instead there was a very different kind of pointed ear, skin like powder, and violently violet eyes.

“Weyoun…”

“Yes, it would seem there were, in fact, a few leftover despite what we had been told.” Garak smirked in that old, familiar, entirely unsettling way of his. “It seems they just meant their Alpha Quadrant supply.”

“Of course, I’m now the actual, final one,” Weyoun added. “Garak here found me right before I was…discarded. My predecessors had not been quite so lucky.”

“Is that where you’ve been the past two decades then?” O’Brien asked. “The Gamma Quadrant?”

“Mostly.” Garak raised his brow briefly. “Someone has to keep an eye on the Dominion. Starfleet Intelligence can hardly be trusted to do it on their own, the Romulans are too busy trying to keep their culture intact, and Klingons have never had a spy agency in their entire recorded history.”

“I see.”

“I came across a story that I thought might interest you.” He glanced down and pecked a few buttons just off-camera, and a ping sounded on the Chief’s computer. “Look particularly carefully at the upper left-hand corner of the screen. It was a pleasure to see you, Chief.”

“Wait…”

But Garak was already gone. O’Brien knew there’d be no point in asking for a trace. Should he report this? He was supposed to, certainly. But this was Garak. O’Brien…well, okay, to say he trusted Garak would be a staggering lie. But he certainly felt like both the Federation and he personally owed him enough that he could be allowed this little indulgence. At least once.

Decision made, O’Brien opened the message he’d been sent. He winced when he recognized rather quickly the world of Argratha. It had all the appearance of a news story of some kind. But the Universal Translator hadn’t caught up to the shift, so he started over and paused it.

Argratha. He’d been twice. The second time some fifteen years later, to testify at a public hearing about his experiences the first time. What his false-memory twenty year imprisonment had been like. There was talk at the time of abandoning the practice; it made the judicial process too casual, too many false guilty charges because, for those who’d never experienced it, what was really lost? The Chief and countless others had told them. How real the time felt, and how cruel the simulation was. He’d told the Special Envoy who’d arranged for him to go that he felt he deserved a medal for how calm he’d been during his testimony. The Envoy had chuckled until the Chief’s expression had told him he had very much meant it.

He started the story up again. When he’d not heard anything for months after his testimony he’d assumed the reforms had failed and the sick practice was still going on. But in fact it had simply taken a bit of extra time and work. The story was about the closing of the final facility that had run such incarcerations. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to weep or go celebrate. He was going to call Keiko straightaway, that much was…

The upper left hand corner.

“No.”

He had almost forgotten to look.

“No.”

Despite it being the entire reason Garak had dropped by.

“Fuck.”

Ee’char. His “imaginary” cellmate. Standing among the crowd of politicians and other self-congratulatory types formally shutting the program down. Almost identical to the twenty-year-older Ee’char from his memories, though one that had clearly lived a somewhat less wretched life. One who’d gotten proper meals and sleep and care, just like O’Brien had.

But did he have the false twenty years that still occasionally wafted into his nightmares and had him waking in a cold sweat? Did he still, on rare occasions, almost set aside a bit of his meal before realizing saving it wasn’t necessary?

“In short, friend,” the Chief said aloud. “Who the fuck are you?”

*

He was glad the stopover at DS9 to switch transports had been short. None of the old crew were there, anymore, but he was fairly certain he was at least vaguely acquainted with some of the Stafleet staff that still maintained a presence on the Bajoran station, and the last thing he wanted to be was some old man wandering around his old posting looking worn and nostalgic. Even Quark had shipped out for Freecloud. A part of him had been tempted to see if Morn was still at his usual seat in whatever the bar was called now, assuming it was even still a bar. But he had just stayed in the docking ring and then made his way to the next leg of his journey.

He spent the flight through the wormhole standing by a window with just about everyone else. He realized that he’d never gone through it after the War had ended, so it was his first time making the journey in ages that he wasn’t expecting to potentially die on the other end. It was so nice to just watch it, to get lost in its beauty, and vaguely wonder if Sisko was watching him just then.

*

O’Brien stood in the space between two homes, watching as a car slid noiselessly from the sky and halted in front of the house. Finding his old friend had been much easier than he’d expected; Garak had encoded everything he needed to find the man in the newsclip he’d sent. A door hissed open and the old Argrathan stepped out. He exchanged inaudible words with someone in the vehicle before the door shut and it lazily drifted back into the sky. O’Brien glanced around. No one else seemed to be coming. He watched as the other man walked towards the his home.

The Chief darted from the shadows and jogged across the street. If Ee’char heard him he showed no sign. O’Brien reached up, paused, and then gently tapped the other man on the shoulder. He gasped and spun.

“Yes?” he asked.

“I’m…ah…I’m Miles O’Brien.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, yes, I remember watching your testimony.” He held out a hand “Ko’vax.”

“A pleasure,” the Chief replied, taking his hand and shaking it.

“But why did you come to see me?”

“We…well, we were cellmates, you see.”

“Were we?” He nodded slowly. “Well. Someone had quite the sense of humor.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been arguing against our mental prisons for a very long time.” His lips went slender and he glanced off. “Please. Come in, have a warm drink.”

“I…sure, thank you.”

*

“I never had the misfortune of experiencing what you or so many others did,” Ko’vax explained, putting down what seemed effectively to be a mug in front of O’Brien. “But my father did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He picked up his own mug, almost took a drink, but didn’t and put it down. “His story was similar to so many others. To yours. Adjusting was so hard. Too hard. They don’t offer any kind of help to reintegrate to society. To help you deal with the fact that you’ve not actually lost any time but it still feels like a huge swathe of your life is gone. That might be worse than actually losing time. I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. I’ve never had the real version.”

“He lasted…half a year. My brother found him.” Ko’vax paused and took a sip of his drink, and the Chief finally did automatically. Not that he took any note of the flavor. “I’d already started writing letters, but I got more active after that. Showed up at politician’s doorsteps. Showed up and shouted at meetings that had nothing to do with it. Became a real pain.”

“Must’ve been afraid they’d…well, you know.”

“Oh, sure. But I didn’t care. Let them. Let them put me in a fifty year dream, a century, I knew I’d be fine. I’d have my rage to see me through.” He sighed. “I was so angry for so long. I mean, I never stopped being angry, but you can’t be as constantly angry as I was at first. That would be impossible.”

“So what happened?”

“I lived my life. But I never stopped my campaigning. Whatever free moment I could scrounge up was spent talking with others who shared my goal. I guess someone thought it would be a good laugh to have a cellmate based on the man who hated them and their program so damn much.” He smiled. “But then I got to be there today. When it all ended. Thanks to so many people. Like you.”

“I…” The Chief paused. “I’m glad I could help.”

“So what made you come to see me?”

“I wasn’t sure who you were, to be honest. Outside of looking like Ee’char. That was his name.” He paused. “I guess a part of me was almost hoping you’d been part of it somehow. So I could let you have it. And feel less bad about…how things went between me and the other you.”

“We didn’t get along, eh?”

“We did, eventually. And then for a long time. But then, towards the end…”

“It gets particularly bad, yes. Everyone says that.”

“Well. Glad to know it wasn’t just me getting special treatment, I suppose.” O’Brien took another drink. Now that he was paying attention he realized it was very pleasant. He’d have to find out what it was and bring some home. “We fought. You…he…I killed him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for. I killed you. Sort of.”

“I’m sorry on behalf of a government that will never properly apologize fo anyone affected by their sick little program because they think it’s just fine. They are giving it up with great reluctance you can be sure.” He paused. “And I’m sorry you were driven to that. I know we’ve barely met but you don’t seem the type. So it must have been truly awful to drive you that far.”

“I guess so. I hope so.” He paused. “I don’t know. I’d killed before. Served in one war already by then. But this was something else. Something that still comes up at me in the wee hours. Every time I’d killed before then I could justify it as having been for my survival. And that’s what I told myself it was that time, but I’d not actually proven that first. I told myself it must have been so I could.”

“I wish I could help. I’m almost sorry I’m not who you thought I was.” He shrugged. “If it helps, well…I didn’t go what you went through, but I saw firsthand what it does to people. I know how real it can seem, even to those who go in knowing it isn’t. You had no idea. I’m sorry they used my face as part of your torture. But, if it helps…well, I forgive you. On behalf of the false me. And I only wish you the best.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, nodded. “That actually is nice to hear, somehow.”

*

The wormhole again. Its eddies and currents and majesty unchanged even as the twenty years around it had entirely altered O’Brien’s world. Why had the gone all the way to the Gamma Quadrant? What would he have done if Ko’vax had been involved somehow? Certainly not killed him. Shouted for a bit? What good would that have done? But what good had this done? No. Time to move on. Figure out what’s next. He’d been in neutral for far too long, and…

“Oh, I know that look,” came a voice to his side that he scarcely believed he was hearing. “That is the look of the Chief when everything seems against him. When things have stopped making sense.”

O’Brien turned. There, not looking a day older when he’d last seen him, still in the now very out-of-date uniform, stood Captain Sisko.

“Well, Chief. It’s time for things to start making sense again. And I’m going to need your help.”

The End

—

For more DS9 fanfic, check out Caitlin, Jake, and Ames’s stories from this round of Tales from the Holodeck! And be sure to keep listening to new episodes every Thursday on SoundCloud, follow us on Facebook and Twitter, and stay out of brain jail if you can. Jay-sus.

[scribbles-and-dribbles]

Somnium

This is my entry for @sherrybaby14 ‘s prompt challenge (requested via my @im-marie-poppins-yall​ account)  Thank you for letting me join. Your writing is amazing and I am so inspired by you. Also,so sorry I’m sending this so late!

  My prompt was: 

Geralt spending the night at an inn reader works at after killing a monster that had been terrorizing the town, and reader sneaks into his room at night to give him her own thanks but then gets frightened at how actually Violent and Strong he is and makes to leave, but he insists on following through

It’s been a long time since I’ve really sat down and written some good smut (It’s been a year!),so forgive me if I’m a bit rusty. But nonetheless I had so much fun! And this was what I needed to get back into writing again. (Also I apologize to the person who requested this, if this isn’t exactly what you had in mind!)

Warnings: 18+, Rough Sex, edging,No Archive Warnings

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

The room was darkly lit, a single candle in the far left corner was barely a flicker behind the dusky glass. It cast shadows over your hips as they rolled against his. It washed a faint warm glow over the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to catch your moans before they woke the entire inn. 

He watched from below you, your eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss, and his nearly predatory gaze drinking in the sight of your shaking body. Your hips swayed to some unheard music as you lost yourself in the pleasure, his cock driving up into you, meeting your eager thrusts. He growled and his hand slid up your back, over your shoulder and into your hair, fisting it and pulling you down into a ravenous kiss. His other hand slid down to grip your hip, and before you knew it, in a whirl he had you flipped and pinned underneath you, pushing your leg up and picking up his pace, driving deep within you. 

Gods it felt amazing, his hips rolled into yours with expert ease, and his teeth grazed your soft neck, marking it giving not a single damn about how visible they were. You didn’t want him to stop. You could stay like this forever if you had your way. But the universe had other ideas.

-

You wake with a start, the sound of shattering glass and drunk squabbling shaking you out of your dream. You sit up, pressing a hand to your neck where those teeth had felt so real. Your skin is flushed and slick with sweat and you’re sure you look a sight. But you only have time to slip out of your nightgown and into far more suitable attire to deal with your awake and seemingly very drunk guests. 

A glance out the murky window and you’re disappointed, but not the least bit surprised to see that the sun has barely risen over the horizon. Smoke still hung low over the village, the last remnants of the winged beast that had terrorized your neighbors for the last four months. Never had you realized just how idiotic the people of your village were until they mistook a basilisk for a dragon, and attempted to lure it into the village square and kill it themselves. Suffice it to say that it didn’t end well. 

You’d finally been fed up with the pigheaded men refusing to ask for help. A half-melted town was terrible for business, and you weren’t having any of it. If they wouldn’t admit that they stood not a chance against the beast with their poorly thought out planning, then you were going to take matters into your own hands. 

You’d heard rumor of a Witcher roaming the surrounding area, slaying any beast- for a price. You were a small village, but you were one of the lasts villages before any weary travelers reached Cintra. Your inn was always bustling with new and strange characters. Stranger or not, they brought in enough coin to appease the Butcher, as your neighbors so...fondly referred to The Witcher. 

So when he stopped in your humble little town, on his way to Cintra no doubt, he was god-sent. He’d come into your inn, ready to pay for one night. You convinced him to stay for three, free of charge and with a hefty bag of coin if he made quick work of something your town’s strongest men had taken four months to fail at. He’d left last night and as you peered out the window, tying your apron around your waist, you caught sight of his unmistakable white mane trekking up the hill atop his gorgeous mare towards the inn, something large swinging from the saddle.

Your dreams were going to have to wait.

“I wager he doesn’t make it back before nightfall.” One of your patrons slurred, swirling his bandaged finger around the amber liquid you’d just poured into his stein. You swatted at his wrist and he reeled back with a yelp. 

“You keep stirring that bloody stump in your ale, you’ll not being getting another refill today Byron.” You quipped, tossing him a cloth to whip his hand. The dressing around his finger was already soaked through with blood and you could tell the alcohol was beginning to burn through. He’d been one of the ones to go out first and try to take the beast down. He’d lost his finger because he couldn’t shoot an arrow to save his life. Though that wasn’t the story he told anyone unfortunate enough to be in earshot. 

 He grumbled and took a long swig from the frothy liquid, grimacing at the acrid taste. You chuckled and swapped his drink. You leaned against the counter an inquiring eyebrow raised. 

“I’ll take a shot at that.”

 He frowned and took yet another large swig from his stein. “What? I don’t strike you as the betting type? You wound me, Byron, you should know me better than that.” You laugh, moving around the bar and intercepting Beth, and relieving her of two trays of piping hot gruel on her arms and another tray balancing precariously on her very pregnant stomach - she’d insisted upon working despite it being nearly the eve of her bairns birth. She wanted to catch a glimpse of The Witcher herself. 

“It’s not that. I just don’t want to have a sore loser on my hands.” Byron slurred after you, watching you whisk around the dining area, weaving expertly between patrons were beginning to rouse and make their way to help themselves to the seemingly bottomless kegs your father had installed years before he passed and left the inn to you.

“Alright then, since you’re so convinced that a man with far superior hunting skills is going to have worse luck than a drunk who can barely drink me under the table- you’re on.” You place the last bowl of gruel in front of Byron’s skeptical face and sidle back behind the counter. You lean towards him, resisting the urge to cringe at the stench wafting off of him. He’d been drinking longer than you’d originally thought. You were going to have to reconsider leaving the kegs out at all odd hours of the night.

“I wager he comes through that door in the next twenty minutes.” Byron scoffs. He thinks you’re ridiculous. “And what, pray tell girlie, will you be winning if he comes through that door on anything but a stretcher?” 

“Every round for the rest of the week is on you.” You chuckle at the scandalized look that crosses his face before he tosses his head back and has a good laugh before fixing you with an amused look.

“You’re on. And when I win, you’ll be clearing my tab and-”

Before he can finish the door to the inn swings open with a frame shattering thud and the Butcher of Blaviken stomps in reeking of acid and guts and covered in just that. Every head not hanging from a raging hangover turns to watch him stride over to the bar. His eyes catch yours, and you’re momentarily transported back to your dream this morning. You shake your head and raise an eyebrow at Byron who’s gone pale.

“Clearing your tab and...what?” He scoffs and glares at The Witcher as he stops at the bar. You cast a sidelong glance at him, trying to ignore the fact that you’d just been dreaming of him not even an hour earlier. You place a pint in front of him, he looks like he could use it. He offers a curt nod of thanks and knocks it back faster than you thought possible. 

“So, did you actually kill the beast?” Byron asks incredulously and you find yourself rolling your eyes. You wave a hand over the Witcher.

“What do you think? That he just rolled around in guts and called it a day?” Byron scowls at you and the sound of The Witcher chuckling underneath his breath catches you by surprise. You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking. “If he had,” you continue, directing it at your visitor. “He’d be sorry he ever stole money from me.” His eyes look almost amused as he stands. 

“If you’re so skeptical, you can ask your Lord of the Manor how he likes his new trophy.” Byron, looking thoroughly pissed, huffs and slips of the stool and wander over to the kegs, muttering something about being bested by a filthy mutant. 

You shake your head and wipe the counter down with one hand and refilling the Witcher’s stein. Guests have wondered out of their rooms to stare at him like he’s an amusing new animal, though they keep their distance. And you’re certain it has nothing to do with the state of his attire. You shake your head, ashamed of the people you’ve grown up calling friends and neighbors, listening to their barely concealed whispers about him. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard it all.” You say, casting a sidelong glance at him as you mark Byron’s tab down. “But I’m sorry the rest of my town isn’t as grateful as I know they should be.” 

He shrugs and takes another swig. He sets the cup down and even though you’re turned away refilling the glasses Beth had just brought to the bar, her eyes unabashedly drinking him in, you can feel his eyes on you. And when you shoo Beth away and turn back to him, he’s still watching you. Dried blood from the beast no doubt has darkened his hair a bit, and a small scar that he’s haphazardly treated is still bleeding a bit on his chin. Despite all of this, you still want him. And the way he’s staring at you, you’re certain he can tell.

“And are you?” He asks, his honey-colored eyes seem to darken a bit and although they’re incredibly intimidating, you refuse to look away. You stare him down, setting your rag down and leaning against the bar towards him. 

“Am I...what?” How does one man look so damn kissable covered in the blood of a slain beast? 

“Grateful.” He raises his eyebrows, looking genuinely curious, but you know why he’s asking. 

“What, the hefty bag of coin wasn’t enough to prove that?” You tease. He chuckles wryly. Twice you’ve amused him, and something tells you that that’s rare and you should relish it. He stands and places a coin on the bar for the pint. You wave it away.

“You single-handedly took the beast down in record time, consider it a thank you.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Hmm...you know where to find me if you have anything else you’d like to say.”

You gape at him as he strides up the stairs. You laugh incredulously, heat flushing to your cheeks. 

“Not very subtle is he?” You nearly leap out of your skin at the sound of Beth’s voice right behind you.

“Good lord Beth-” You laugh, turning to her, watching her bustle about as if that large belly of hers is no hindrance to her. You shake your head, taking the Witcher’s stein off of the bar and wiping it down once more, trying not to think about the meaning behind his words. But Beth has other ideas.

“If you don’t take him up on his very generous offer- I will.” You swat at her with the rag laughing. 

“I’m sure he’d happily have you. But you’re near bursting at the seams, and I thought you were happily married.” She scoffs and casts a glance across the inn where her husband is beguiling the young boys with his tall tale of how he lost his finger. “Sometimes I wonder why I let that idiot convince me to be stuck with him until sweet death does us part.” Her words are teasing but you see the endearment in her eyes. 

You smile and pat her on her shoulder. “He’s just nervous about his first child. And sore that a Witcher bested him. He’ll be right as rain when he sobers up to see that beautiful baby of yours.” You reassure her. She nods and turns back to you, fixing you with a determined gaze.  

“Enough about me and mine. You haven’t been with someone in years girlie.” You flush and open your mouth to protest. “And I know, you’ve been too busy taking care of the inn after your father passed, bless his soul. But you need to take care of yourself, dear. And that includes your more primal needs.” She’s not that much older than you, but she reminds you of your mother the way she plants her hands on her hips and fixes you with that look. 

You sigh. “I appreciate the concern Beth, but I barely know the man. And he’s a Witcher, mind you. I don’t think sassy innkeeper girls are what he favors.” 

“Ha!” She snorts, shaking her head. “You’re as beautiful as you are blind. Did you not see the way he was looking at you? Not just today, but the day he arrived he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Now I’m not asking you to make the man fall in love with you,just...share something with him. He wants you and you most certainly want him.”

You flush. You can’t say she’s lying. It has been some time since you’ve been with anyone. Taking over the inn that had been in your father’s family for generations had made it a little hard to have flings. 

“Fine. But if he laughs in my face, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

~~

And now you were standing in front of the man’s door several hours later questioning once again how you let Beth convince you to do this. She’d sent you away hours ago but you’d stubbornly found some other thing that needed doing around the inn. Bedding for the other guests, refilling the kegs with your father’s special blend, cleaning god knows what because you kept the inn spick and span.

Finally, she’d practically swatted you up the stairs. You’d begun to look a bit worse for wear. The word that not only was the infamous Witcher was in town, but that he was fresh off of a hunt, had spread like wildfire. And you finally hadn’t needed an excuse for why you weren’t pursuing ‘your primal needs’ as Beth had so gracefully put it.

But by then your other barmaid had arrived looking like she was ready for a night on the town, and not to serve the hoard of weary travelers hoping to catch a glimpse of the man. 

“If you don’t get your ass upstairs and see that man, I have no doubt in my mind that Linda will do it for you.” 

--

Beth wasn’t exaggerating when she’d pointed out that you hadn’t done this in years. You’d felt like a silly school girl standing in front of the mirror trying to make yourself look less like an exhausted, albeit horny, innkeeper. But you did want him. She hadn’t been wrong about that. You could still feel the phantom touch of his hands on your hips, gripping them as he pulled you down onto him. It’d been a dream, and yet it had felt incredibly real. 

You sighed and reached up to knock on his door. You were unsure of what you were going to say. You didn’t want it to sound like a proposition. Though you supposed it was. You falter and realize that whatever you ask, it will never sound normal. What if Beth had mistaken a stare of indifference for a gaze of “unbridled lust in those golden eyes”? Maybe it was better to resign yourself to thinking of him as you soothe the ache that had started between your thighs the moment he walked back in this morning, on your own.

You drop your hand with a sigh and begin to turn away. The door swings open before you’ve even begun to walk back down the hall to your room. You give a start, steadying your hand on the door frame, and your instantly aware of just how...naked he is. He's clean of all the guts and blood that had previously clung to him like a second skin, and his hair gleams in the low lantern light that shines on his broad chest. The towel he has wrapped around his hips is barely hanging on. 

“Er, good evening.” You hear yourself say, and you internally cringe. God, you were off to a terrible start. You manage to glance away from his pectorals and meet his shining eyes, and you could have sworn that for a split second a smirk tugged at his delectable looking lips.

“Are you coming in, or are you going to stay out there for the rest of the night?” He chuckles, and you blush again scowling as you slip into the room. He barely moves and your arm brushes against his warm skin. It sends a spark of excitement through you. Had it been so long that the mere touch of a hot body was enough to set you off?

It doesn’t matter. You’re here now, and there’s no turning back. You want him, you just have to make sure he wants you too. You turn to him, your hands clasped before you as you open your mouth to speak. But before you can, his hands are on your waist and he’s tugged you against his chest and captured your lips in a hungry kiss. You let out a surprised squeak that slips into a soft moan. It feels so damn good to have someone’s lips against your own.

Your reach up to snake your arms around his neck and push yourself up to meet the kiss with as much vigor and desire as he does. His hands slide up your hips and over your bodice, his fingers make quick work of the laces and removing it and let it fall to the floor. Your breath catches in your throat when his hands run up over your chest, and dip into your dress. You pull away from the kiss to catch your breath and moan softly as his calloused fingers run over your nipples and tweak and tease them in the best way. 

You open your eyes a bit to look up at him and are a bit startled to see the color his eyes have taken. The bright golden has seemed to darken to almost deep amber, and they pierce your own with an almost predatory look. His hand's run-up to your shoulders and he pauses, casting a questioning look over you. You’re nervous, and this isn’t how you thought this would all transpire. But you were more than willing. You reach up yourself and watch him as you slip your dress down off of your shoulders and let it fall to pool around your ankles. 

He gives an appreciative growl and a smile quirks his lips. 

“I thought you’d be too scared to come.” He chuckled. The way he spoke, an underlying growl underneath every word, made you shiver. You watched his hands trail over your shoulders and down your back, his fingers pressing into your skin when he reaches your hips. He slips his arms behind your knees and to avoid falling against him, you hop into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck again.

“Fearful? What do you take me for? A scared little girl?” You laugh because honestly, you were a little fearful. You’d heard the other women tell tall tales about their night with a Witcher when they were young and childless. And how it was best to expect a broken bed by the end of the night. Even if they weren’t 100% truthful, you knew Witcher’s weren’t human, and they more than likely didn’t fuck like a human. “You asked me if I was grateful, and I’m here to prove that I am.” You whisper, your hand slipping into his hair and pulling him towards you for another kiss. Your lips slant against his and you run your tongue across his bottom lip, nipping at it playfully, and drawing a growl out of him.

He places you on his bed and crawls over you, one arm braced against the mattress and the other snaking down your body his fingers tracing over your breasts as they rise and fall with your labored breath. 

“Certainly not, if you’re so bold as to invite a Witcher you’ve only spoken to twice, to sleep with you.” You scoff, and then moan when he dips his head down to capture one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and nipping at it. 

“You’re..oh gods..you’re the one who kissed me, Witcher.” You retort, your fingers finding their way back into his pale locks, tugging at them as he alternates between tweaking and twisting one nipple with his fingers and sucking at the other with his expert tongue. He stops his generous teasing at your words and smirks at you.

“Are you saying you’d like me to stop, Innkeeper.” You laugh and fix him with a warning glare. He growls, amused at your determined look, and returns his left hand to your heaving chest while his other hand runs down your side. His fingers trail over your hip, sliding down the v of your body and trailing just above your cunt before stopping. 

“You’re certain you don’t want to run for the hills?” He asks, and at first, you think he’s joking, but he looks dead serious. And you open your mouth to answer but it’s cut off by a whine. His middle finger dips down to brush over you. It slides over your lower lips, collecting your juices on it and teasing the hell out of you. He just barely pushes it in, drawing a needy whine out of you. It’s been so long since anyone else has touched you in this way, and now that someone is, you remember just how sensitive you are. He continues teasing your opening, and it’s not nearly enough. The way he watches you, those enhanced eyes catching every flutter of your eyelids, reminds you of something beastly. 

And you remember that you’re in bed with a Witcher. Not a ‘normal’ human man. His stamina is far above your own, and your certain you’ll be a sore aching mess in the morning. And a small voice of reason in the back of your head mutters that you should probably leave, and let your dreams be dreams. But just when you’ve just about convinced yourself that you should take him up on his offer to leave, he slides that teasing finger inside you, curling upwards in just the right way. It’s almost too much and just enough to let you throw caution to the wind.

You pin him with a hungry gaze and buck your hips up against his hand moaning out when the movement pushes him deeper, and his palm brushes against your wanton clit. 

“If you stop, you’ll wish the Basilisk had eaten you.” You snip and growls amusedly. He sits up and removes his hand from you and you glare up at him incredulously. You push yourself up a bit and open your mouth to protest and demand that he finish what he started. But ever one to interrupt, he’s gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your belly before you can even get a single breath out.

You groan out and bury your face in the pillow when two of his fingers slip inside your now aching cunt from behind, diving into you at an absolutely delicious angle. He leans over you, his chest against your back as his fingers begin to piston in and out of you, the lewd sound mixing with your moans. You gasp softly when his hot breath hits your cheek.

“Be sure to remember that I gave you some warning.” He growls into your ear. 

His fingers don’t let up, and only pick up in pace, stroking your walls and stretching them to accommodate his fingers. He continues forcing them deeper inside you at a rapid pace. You groan out and you tighten around fingers, which only seems to make him want to drive into you harder.

You gasp when his tongue teases the shell of your ear, his breath hits your neck, and sends a shiver running up your spine. You feel like you’re being claimed by a beast, and you love it. He growls softly as his fingers start to grip your walls, scissoring at a rapid pace stretching you out. 

You open your mouth in a silent whine, and then you finally feel him. His cock brushes against your thigh. You lift your hips to meet his fingers, silently begging for him. He chuckles and only continues to drive his skilled fingers into you. He flexes them, pressing up against that sweet spot and then retreating before you can get too much pleasure out of it.

“Damn it, Witcher-” You snap, your words melting into a muddle of moans when he dips down to kiss your shoulder and lets his underhand slide between you and the bed and flutter his digits against your clit. “You know what I want.” You finish, gasping softly when he flips you onto your back. Your chest is flush and his eyes trailing over your heaving chest, and back up to your eyes only makes your entire body flush with heat as well.

“Then say it.” He murmurs, kissing down your neck and capturing a hardened nipple in his devilish mouth when you rise in response to his fingers thrusting into you at this angle. 

Looking back, you could only blush madly at the thought of your response. You weren’t one to be so brazen, even with other past lovers. But something about this man had you tossing bashfulness to the wind. You didn’t care that you didn’t know him, didn’t care that this was nothing more than two bodies fulfilling a need. 

Your hands slipped up to cup his chin, pulling his face up to look at you with those honey eyes. Your legs spread a bit more and you groaned softly when his thumb settled on circling your clit, just barely touching it.

“I want you to fuck me, Witcher.” You whispered, biting your lip and grinning at him. You were more than ready for him. He growled, satisfied with that answer. You watched him with bated breath. A needy moan escaped your lips when you caught sight of just how much larger than you he truly was.

His fingers retreated from your dripping sex, and you watched him drink your juices off of his fingers. He lifted one of your legs and ran his hand up your thigh positioning it over his shoulder, pinning your hands over your head and leaning over you. And before you could demand that he stop teasing you, he pushes into you, filling you up and stretching you out. 

“Gods yes.” You moan, grinning up at him and wrapping your legs around his waist. His hips roll against yours, just barely moving. Though he flexes his cock inside you, and it sends a delicious jolt running through you. He’s silent, save for his growls and somehow he’s still intimidating- in the best way.

His eyes never leave yours, and it only heightens the pleasure you’re feeling. He watches your mouth fall open into a small silent ‘o’ when he slides out of you slowly and slams back into you. You bite your lip and pin him with a challenging glare.

“I thought, fuck- I thought Witcher’s were known for being rough?” You teased. You’d blame it on being drunk with pleasure and need. It’d been so long since you’d lain with anyone, you might as well get the most out of it. He chuckled and you let out a quiet squeak when his arms wrapped around you and pulled you up to sit face to face with him. You moan and roll your hips in his lap. 

“You’ve been listening to too many bored wives.” He chided as his hands settled on your hips and began bouncing you on his cock. His hands run up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back and biting at the most delicate parts of your neck. With each nip, his thrusts seem to pick up speed until the entire bed is shaking and you’ve given up all hope of silencing your moans.

“Ha, sure, but am I wrong? How many times am I going to get the chance to bed a Witcher? I want the full experience~” Your hands run up his back and your nails dig into his shoulders while your hips bounce against him. You grind against him, your clit rubbing against his skin and burning a hot pleasure through your core. 

He growls in our ear, nipping at your shoulder. He pushes you back down onto the bed, raising your hips and bracing his hand on the wall. He grunts and dips his hips down to push into you, the head of his cock reaching the deepest parts of you and driving you wild. You can only hang on for dear life, and enjoy the ride. 

He fucks into you for what seems like hours, and every time he feels your cunt tightening around him and your moans turn desperate, he flips you toying with your clit but backing off every time you're ready to let go. By the time he’s edged you for the umpteenth time, you’re a spluttering needy mess. And he’s barely broken a sweat.

“I- Gods-” You can’t muster up a coherent response. He lifts you into his arms and stands walking you towards the wall until your back is flush against it, your shaking limbs clinging to him. His arms enclose your body on either side of your head as he presses on, his hips snapping against yours, the lewd sounds of his cock fucking into your sopping sex filling the room. And just when it feels as if you can’t take it anymore, he slides you down onto the floor, flips you onto all fours, and slides back into you.

“You wanted the full experience.” He teased, his tongue running across your shoulder. Your body is practically buzzing from the over-stimulation. You growl in response and arch your back bucking back against him. You want, and desperately need to cum. His arms lock underneath your shoulders and pulls your back up against his chest. He captures your lips in a hungry, almost possessive kiss that leaves you breathless.  With one arm still locked tightly around your body, his other hand trails down your side and his fingers trace tight little figure eight’s around your clip as his cock slams into you. 

His golden eyes stare into your own as he draws you closer to the climax you’ve been hungry for since he first stepped into your inn. His roguish smirk is the last thing you see before a pillow comes colliding with your face and wakes you. You sit up spluttering and swatting at the air. You blink into the bright sunlight streaming through your window and glare at your assailant. 

“It’s about time. You were giving your guests quite an earful.” Beth chortles, dropping the pillow in your lap. “Now come on, I hear The Witcher is going to be riding through town come nightfall.”

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- DUDLEY DEMENTED

The graveyard appeared in a haze around him, and the tombstones were the good features. The memory resurfacing in his mind's eye as he relived the moment again and again, Voldemort's ghastly white face, the threats and promises of his death, and always lingering in the background, Cedric-

"Harry, Harry love, wake up."

A gentle hand was brushing the bangs away from his face, only twitching slightly over the scar but continuing the methodic pattern. Squinting past the gray haze of sleep, he caught a glimpse of red, and for a moment was sure it was Ginny, but that faded absently from his mind without even fully registering why she'd be there.

Then he kept blinking, and instead of the wide brown eyes of Mrs. Weasley promising a hug whenever he did, or didn't, need one, his own green were staring down at him.

"Mum?"

For a moment Harry wasn't entirely sure if he was even awake...but his eyes were already closing again, her soft voice whispering reassurances, "it's alright dear, you're safe here."

Real or not, Harry felt himself relaxing under that touch, and soon faded back into a restless rem of a long dark corridor...

    Lily was cooking breakfast with an absent minded look on her face. She wasn't churning on the book they'd most recently finished though, if she lingered on that to long she was likely to start crying into the pot below her. No she was instead worrying over the fact that they had an Order meeting tonight, and the four of them would be unable to attend. Once she'd served breakfast and brought this to the attention of the others, Sirius brushed her off at once.

"Quit fretting Lil's, so we miss one meeting, they won't go flying off the handle for that."

"Besides, I think it's for the best," Remus grumbled towards his bowl without looking at anyone. "Doubt some of us could walk in there without executing a murder we couldn't fully explain." He took an extra hard bite at his spoon at the end, nearly ripping the metal off.

James's hand twitched on the way to his mouth, spilling porridge over his nose instead, and only after he'd carefully wiped it up did he say, "it's not like we can do anything about it. If someone comes around here asking questions, we'll do the same as we did before and pretend like nothing's wrong. It's none of their business if we're being extra cautious of late and didn't attend this one meeting."

Lily was stirring her food absently in the bowl, she hadn't touched a bite. She was too busy straining over the fact that they could honestly use the Order's help with this. They should know that there was a traitor among them before any more secrets were spilled, and she couldn't help the deep longing she had just to see them all. So many were going to die in the coming year.

Harry watched them all with a deep ache, again feeling personally responsible he was putting them in such a hard spot all because of his presence. No one was eating much anymore, and when Harry went to put his finished bowl away and began collecting the others no one protested.

Despite the fact that they all knew full well this stupid book was as likely as the last ones going to start with the Dursleys, Remus kept the baby almost hopefully in his lap. He felt safer with his little cub in his arms while hearing about them than having to picture this very infant around those people. Harry in particular couldn't help but smile when he saw this. Aside from his own parents, there was just something adorable about Remus holding a baby he couldn't put into words.

It was a somber group that flopped down into their spots in the living room and Sirius who started without much enthusiasm, and the book he had to grab wasn't helping. It was solid black, only the faint purple five on the spine barely catching the light showed it was next. Sirius tried to pretend that wasn't a bad omen as he cleared his throat.

Privet Drive was coming to the close of another heated day.

Sirius had never believed he could say a street name with as much hatred as he hurled that out with.

All cars were parked, and the once green lawns seemed to be withering on sight for the use of hosepipes had been banned due to drought.

"Huh?" James asked in confusion. He'd admit he was also trying to delay a bit until he had to hear about the inside of one particular house.

"Hosepipes are used to pump water out," Lily grumbled more than explained, at this point she'd pay Sirius just to skip these parts until Harry could escape to the Burrow, but she also knew that wouldn't do any good. In some perverse way she wanted to know every terrible thing Petunia and Vernon had done to her son, that way she could kill them with a much more clear conscious knowing everything. "Sometimes in very hot summers, the city puts restrictions up so the residents have limited use."

James couldn't even imagine the idea, but then again, he'd never thought to question where the water came when he used a spell.

Without their usual aquatic uses to keep them busy outdoors, the inhabitants of Little Whinging were now more seen inside with all windows thrown open in attempts to coax a nonexistent breeze. The only person left outside was a boy in the flowerbeds of number four.

"Please tell me they don't have you out there pruning in that weather," Remus forced out between gritted teeth.

"Nope," Harry murmured. His memories of the summer were still murky, the last clear thing he remembered was getting off the train into Vernon's car, but he already had a bad feeling about how this summer had gone. Not that any of his summers at that place were ever really considered pleasant, so maybe he was just getting this one confused with a previous one? He hoped so, because the bad feelings bubbling up in him now weren't proving a good omen.

Very skinny, with black wild hair and spectacles covering green eyes, he looked even more unhealthy than usual laying in the dying plants.

"That comes from too little nourishment," Lily sneered, thinking back to the new levels of starving they'd been putting her boy through that past summer.

Harry Potter's appearance was an unwelcome sight to the sort of people in this town who thought scruffiness should be punishable by law,

"Well I think how you treat him is punishable by law!" James snapped, "and I can't bleeding wait to act on it."

Harry got the sense he wasn't going to be reporting the Dursleys to anyone, but his father would be facing his own law somewhere in there, causing Harry to inch away from him just a bit in fear. He really wasn't looking forward to what would happen to his muggle relatives when they got out of here.

but Harry had hidden himself behind some hydrangea bushes and so was currently invisible to anyone who would glare.

"Why were you hiding yourself?" Sirius asked, infusing some mischief into his voice Harry quickly shot away with an exasperated look. He had no more clue than them, yet. Besides that, Harry had always strived to keep himself out of trouble at the Dursleys, though hardly ever exceeding that wasn't the point.

The only way he could be spotted was if someone stuck their head out the window of the living room and looked directly down on him. Harry felt he should be congratulated for finding this spot.

"Well congratulations then," James nodded somberly. He really couldn't find any of his normal enthusiasm while having to hear about Harry there. He was half waiting any moment for Voldemort to pop up all over again and start trying to curse his son where he lay, though hopefully he'd at least hit Vernon first.

It may not have been comfortable, but it was far better than trying to sit in the living room where Vernon kept grinding his teeth so loud and snapping accusing questions at Harry, he couldn't hear the news.

Now Harry could feel the soft melding beginning on the edges of his mind as a memory was being returned, and he was more confident than ever his first impulse had been right, he'd found a new level of hate for his summer holidays. He was utterly confident it had something to do with watching the news, or perhaps a lack of news-

"I know you're not going to answer," Remus sighed as he watched baby Harry begin gumming on the sleeve of his robes, "but I really am curious why you're trying to spend time with them like that."

"Enjoying their company is not my reason for being in there," Harry at once said with conviction, "but I'm getting a bad feeling of why I am there."

"I get a bad feeling any time you're there," Lily sniffed, though everyone felt themselves tensing up even more at Harry's proclamation. What a way for this book to start, in such an already tense and uneasy atmosphere.

As if these thoughts had been spoken aloud, Vernon chose that moment to speak up and demand to know where their miscreant nephew was?

Petunia returned carelessly not in the house.

Vernon grunted this was a good thing, demanding of no one what that boy was really up to, he did not buy his story of watching the news.

Harry could feel the soft pressure it caused for his memories to be returned, his listening in on this conversation had finally given him a timeline of where in the summer he was, and the heavy sigh he released relieved no one of their worries. It managed to increase the look of agitation on Harry's face as he realized he'd been left to stew in nothing for a solid month with no useful contact from anyone. He threw Sirius in particular a disgruntled look for his letters he remembered from his godfather, then he sat there and really looked at him for a moment with some monster of a feeling telling him he should be valuing any letter Sirius sent him...

The others had noticed Harry, but they figured if he wasn't sharing it was best not to ask as that had only caused him pain in the past.

No normal boy should even be interested in such a thing, Dudley didn't have a clue who the Prime Minister was.

"He says that like it's a good thing," Remus cocked his head to the side in, well more disbelief than usual for Vernon's mental health.

"It does explain a bit about them though," Sirius curled his lip in disgust. "They enjoy their son being as daft as a stick like they are, they hate Harry for not conforming to that."

Vernon continued even louder in disbelief it's not as if his lot would be on the news-

Sirius rolled his eyes in disbelief at such a statement, he'd been on there only two years ago, and now Vernon even knew who he was. It wasn't actually possible for someone to be that dense was it?

"As if he doesn't know better," James snorted in disgust, thinking back to that first book which seemed like a kindness now, and all of their odd mentionings he'd tried to make a comment to Petunia about. He supposed Vernon had simply blocked that from his mind though, puny as it was, he needed the space for all his insults.

but Petunia quickly shushed him as she reminded the window was open.

"These people have far to much concern with being spied on," Lily scoffed in disgust, but she already knew how self important they found themselves.

"Petunia does enough of it," Remus forced something resembling a smile, "I'm sure she's just expecting retribution."

Vernon quickly agreed and silenced himself as another commercial started in their room. Out on the street, Harry was watching Mrs. Figg amble along apparently muttering to herself.

Harry's eyes narrowed in on this, he'd been far too shy when this had first been brought up, and far too out of it when Dumbledore had mentioned it in the last book, but now taking any excuse to not speak of the Dursley's for a moment Harry confirmed, "you said there was a Figg in the Order?"

"Yes," Remus confirmed, "but I'm still not convinced it's not the same one we know. Surely if she's been looking after you all these years, she'd have told Dumbledore about your err, living arrangements in your younger years." His face was murderous by the end at having to phrase a child living in a cupboard in that light, but if he'd actually said the words they'd come out more as a growl.

"I never told her that though," Harry shrugged, "never told anyone."

Lily narrowed her eyes on her son for that, but she blamed the Dursleys more than Harry for that. More than likely he'd been warned with a harsher punishment than no meals, she shuddered slightly at even the thought of that man putting his hands on her son and quickly cut off her train of thought while answering, "yes, well there's still the other things. Those ratty clothes and your very clear malnourishment plus never taking you anywhere while they spoiled Dudley rotten. Surely she'd at least mention that to Dumbledore who would have investigated further."

Harry wasn't as sure, the Dursley's had often spread around he was a sickly kid to excuse his looks and how they couldn't find any clothes to fit him properly, and there really was something nagging at his mind of Mrs. Figg and Dumbledore...but he let the matter go nonetheless.

Harry was more pleased than ever for his concealment, as Mrs. Figg had taken to inviting him round her place for tea when she caught sight of him recently.

Lily gave a soft little sigh of pity for the poor old thing, she probably got lonely especially since Harry hadn't stayed around anymore.

Vernon piped up in the living room again, asking if Dudders was out for tea?

Remus spluttered in shock as he looked at Sirius like he'd spoken Norwegian.

Sirius looked just as disbelieving as he rolled his eyes at what he'd said. "I'll believe Dudley's out having tea with friends when Harry dates Malfoy."

Harry retched at the idea theatrically while laughing along with the others, privately thinking to himself all that he'd already caught Dudley doing that summer when he was supposedly 'out.' His parents really were blind.

Petunia responded with fondness at once of which friend's house he was at tonight, cooing over how many of his little play mates he had.

James scoffed in disgust, he had more reasons than he'd ever dream of hating these stupid in laws of his, but their continued ignorance still chafed him for just how purposefully stupid they were being.

Harry suppressed a snort with difficulty. The Dursleys really were astonishingly stupid about their son, Dudley.

"Yet I'm not even surprised," Remus rolled his eyes.

Harry's cousin wasn't out having tea with anyone, but was instead out with his gang terrorizing all the children of the neighborhood and vandalizing whatever they pleased.

They were all muttering in frustration at this little delinquent, but honestly it was just a nice change of pace to hear he wasn't tormenting Harry as much as he'd seemed to before they weren't putting too much effort into it.

Harry had witnessed it himself while scavenging the streets looking for newspapers.

Sirius finished that a bit sadly, his mind flickering back to his having done the same in Hogsmeade and not appreciating the similarities to him and his godson in these lights. Harry was probably getting just as much food as a few rats at that place as well.

"Why were you scavenging for newspapers?" James asked with a wince, trying to deny he'd been picturing the same thing as Sirius.

Harry chewed on that for a moment, debating whether to tell them and get it over with or let the book tell as it most likely would, but it didn't take much to decide on the first as he explained the lackluster mail he'd been getting from his friends.

There was a moment of shocked silence before Remus shook his head sadly at Harry and said, "I think you're putting a little too much stock into your friends with that. What exactly do you think they're not telling you, Voldemort walking up the street? No, he's in hiding, they can't offer up anymore."

It was clear as day the anger in Harry's tone as he'd explained it, but this explanation didn't simmer him any. "I don't understand why they had to be so cryptic about it though, it made it sound like they knew something I didn't." This usually happened every time he was at the Dursley's, as old feelings never failed to pop up of his years of isolation there and it somehow felt so much worse that summer.

"Is that really safe?" Lily tried to change the subject into something she found far more important. "The only reason you're at that bleeding place is because you're somehow protected at that house, is wandering the streets a good idea?"

"I couldn't be locked up in that house all the time," Harry scowled, "I'd go mad and beg Ron to come get me again. It's Dumbledore's fault for not explaining that to me." He felt a little bad for his petulant tone when he watched everyone around him flinch, clearly they were all fearing some coming attack by Death Eaters now. Harry wasn't afraid of that, if it hadn't happened by now he didn't see why Voldemort's return would suddenly cause it. That wasn't entirely accurate though...had Death Eaters ever shown up in Private Drive? He was getting some interesting feelings trying to flip across his mind. He was in some kind of danger this summer, and he would be getting guests at his house...but then Sirius had kept going and he stopped thinking about it.

Finally the opening music for the local news began, and Harry was instantly on alert. His stomach clenched with anticipation, as hopefully tonight, after all this time...

"What are you hoping to find anyways?" James asked.

"Strange deaths, disappearances, anything indicating what Voldemort's doing," Harry said like he thought that was obvious.

"While I get what you're going for," Sirius shook his head at him, "I think you're getting a bit ahead of yourself. If that's the kind of stuff you were hoping Ron and Hermione would send you, then it's no wonder you're disappointed. Voldemort tries his hardest to keep himself in the shadows as often as possible, it's certainly scarier that way."

"Didn't you notice the pattern last year," James agreed. "Of the people we know he killed, they were all fairly insignificant and wouldn't have taken much notice. The only reason Bertha did was because most likely Crouch, and he had his own reasons to find her and his own secrets to protect, she was sloppy." No one could miss how haggard his face looked in the end as they all remembered who's sloppy kill that was.

"But someone must have some idea of what he is doing," Harry insisted, already realizing he was going to feel bad for the way he'd been thinking of his friends this summer once he'd had this explained.

"Well yes," Remus agreed, "but that's not something you'd put in a letter." Privately he also agreed he wasn't entirely sure if anyone in the Order would tell Harry even if they could. Sirius was the most likely, and they weren't even sure where he was right now. Remus seemed to have just fallen off the face of the earth and wouldn't be telling anyone anything, and clearly Dumbledore was trying to keep Harry out of the loop by having him at the Dursleys for as long as he was.

Harry grumbled a bit more but sighed in agreement.

It started with stranded holidaymakers because of a Spanish baggage-handler strike- but was cut off by Vernon muttering he hoped they enjoyed their siesta.

Lily was fighting back the urge of a few nasty insults she'd like to throw Vernon's way, she wanted Harry to leave this news venture just so she wouldn't have to hear his commentary on every little thing.

Hardly any of that registered with Harry though as he seemed to deflate with disappointment. Bigger news like deaths and destructions would have trumped stranded holidayers.

"While true," Remus agreed, "I'm not sure I understand your disappointment with that."

"Better to know what's going on than this constant wondering and worrying," Harry grumbled.

They wanted to argue the point, but what could they say. They couldn't tell Harry to at least try to enjoy his summer while he could, not where he was. He had nothing to take his mind off these things, and they could already feel the frustration rolling off of him in waves.

Harry forced himself to keep listening anyways, the same pattern as the rest of this summer. Waiting, tension building and expectations running wild until he sat down and heard the nothing, and the questions began again of why nothing had happened yet.

Lily sighed as she wrapped a tight arm around Harry, remembering back to his early days of discovering the wizarding world and how he'd spent his summer days longing to go back to school. She'd rather hear about that than his desire to go chasing after Voldemort.

The rest of the stories held no more intrigue for him, nor Vernon's commentary on it all. Especially the escalation of the drought story and Vernon's waspish comments as he hopped his neighbor heard this one, him with his sprinklers on at three in the morning.

"As if he's not doing the exact same thing," Remus scoffed.

"Actually he wasn't," Harry shrugged, "he treated us all to a lengthy dinner speech about the importance of upholding such laws and he found it befouling anyone would do otherwise."

"Yet another reason I intend on murdering him," James sneered, "torturing you with his arrogant attitude like that."

"Still as pompous an arse as ever then," Sirius rolled his eyes, though honestly he wouldn't be surprised if the man was still a hypocrite and did it without Harry's even noticing.

A helicopter had almost crashed in a field in Surrey,

"That counts as a little strange," Lily offered just to see her son stop looking like that for a moment, though she really didn't think it had anything to do with Voldemort.

"It was because they were training a new pilot though," Harry sighed, "I definitely found that believable enough."

then onto a story of some actresses divorce which Petunia stated shouldn't even be in here, though she'd put her bony hands on every scrap of news she could find.

"So she is a hypocrite," Lily sniffed, though she was well aware by this point.

Finally Harry lost his patience as Bungy the budgie had been trained to water ski!

"That's actually quite talented," Sirius snickered a bit at training a bird to do that.

"Muggle's have the strangest news," James had his head cocked to the side as he heard all of this.

If this had made it in there was no more point in listening, so Harry carefully rolled onto his front and was preparing himself to crawl far enough away from the window before he could stand again.

He hadn't made it an inch when a crack broke the street like a gunshot,

Sirius had never really gotten to a carefree mode of reading, Harry being around these people just made him too uneasy, but now he was reading as tense and upset as if Harry had been around that troll all over again. Anything that sounded like a gunshot couldn't be a good thing.

Even if James hadn't remembered what a gunshot was he would have instantly been as tense and upset as the others just from the way they all were.

a cat streaked out from under a parked car and flew out of sight;

Harry was too busy feeling the echo of adrenaline trying to jump him even if he didn't feel it now to wonder on why he should be thinking of that.

a shriek of fright echoed inside the house, and Harry was on his feet in the same second, unsheathing his wand for a fight.

Remus was far too concerned with the vision of Death Eater's really attacking Harry there to congratulate him on those reflexes.

He hadn't gained his full height yet when his head crashed into something.

Harry hissed and went cross eyed in pain as he rubbed the top of his head, but that still didn't drop the determined look on his face nor how his hand stayed tight around his wand. If he looked like this now with just a delayed after effect while trying not to do anything about it, they could all easily imagine how fierce he looked on the actual situation. It didn't do much to make any of them feel better as they all remembered just how alone he was there.

Harry tried to stagger away and keep his eyes focused on everything, to understand where that noise had come from, but before he'd got his bearings back two hands entrapped his throat from the open window.

For a moment Sirius was convinced someone was squeezing their hands around his throat, his vision blurred out as he saw red then black from what he'd just forced out in shock. There was just no way possible that monster was actually squeezing his godson's throat!

Then a monstrous noise registered, and Sirius wasn't allowed to act on whatever his impulse had been leading him to break because he was flying into action.

"Let me GO!" James continued to thrash no matter how tight the hold on him was. "I don't care if I get knocked out, I'll kill him before I do!"

Remus nearly fell back down the stairs, he'd bolted up there and put the baby down in his crib the moment he realized what all was happening and only just came back in time to try and stop his friend as well. "Think about what your saying Prongs," Remus begged, trying to stay in his face while avoiding the thrashing limbs. "You won't get a foot when Harry's going to have to drag your arse back here, and what if it's worse this time-"

"I don't care!" James howled, his elbow now slamming repeatedly into Sirius' ribs as he kept trying to make his way to that bleeding door.

Harry watched with horror at this reaction, which finally wore off when his fingers started grasping at the handle, so he darted forward to try and say his part, "Dad, please, it-"

"AND YOU!" James snarled, his face the deepest shade of red as his wild eyes flashed between the door and his son now. "You lied to me! You said they never put hands on you!"

"I said they never left a bruise," Harry quickly corrected.

He blinked as all three of them froze in what they were doing and just stared at him, Sirius arms even went slack and James clearly didn't notice.

James stood there, vibrating in place as he snarled, "lying by omission is still a lie Harry! The bloody hell, how many times had he done this!?"

Harry was frowning in concern, rocking on his feet as he watched him with unease, but when he failed to answer James made a guttural, maddening sound as he stormed away, at least in the opposite direction up the stairs. He shoved a vase off a stand on the way, though as Lily noted when she darted after him it had been a gift from Petunia so it seemed fitting.

The last thing the three at the bottom of the stairs herd was a few more objects breaking and Lily crying, "no, James, not that one!"

Harry's face was stark white in shock as he whispered, "he's really mad at me."

Remus and Sirius exchanged a broken look. Neither of them were feeling much calmer than their friend, but the terror now written on Harry was doing a pretty good job of reminding them they shouldn't try and mimic his actions.

"Not you," Remus sighed,

"-by much," Sirius muttered.

"but Harry, what were you thinking?" Remus quickly moved past that sense it only made Harry look even more upset.

"I just," he threw his hands up in the air in frustration, his mind scrambling as he tried to come up with a way to make them see. "You guys have to understand I never told anyone about this, anyone. Not Ron, it just-" he sighed and flattened his hair onto his head for a moment, starting to pace and still throwing panicked eyes at the stairs where now no noise at all could be heard.

Sirius sucked in a deep breath, watching Harry pad back and forth for several more beats before saying, "I get that. It took me ages to tell James what my mum did to me."

Harry paused then, watching Sirius with dark weary eyes. Sirius leaned back against the stairs banister, trying for all the world to look casual as he said, "I grew up a nosy little child, always asking one to many questions, and my mum hated that. She always said I was never a proper Black, and she tended to curse me for it, a lot. Her favorite was to use the Transmogrifian Torture, it popped a limb out of socket and she'd leave it like that until I properly apologized and said I'd do better and stuff. That never left a bruise either," he finished with a mutter, rubbing absently at his shoulder.

He looked over to see Harry had a new kind of horrified look on his face, and Sirius nodded solemnly as he kept going, "things didn't get any better for me once I started school. My first morning there when she'd found out I was in Gryffindor, she sent me a howler so bad it made what Neville's Gran and Ron's mum sent look like a love letters. I ran out of there trying my damndest not to cry, and James caught up to me and demanded to know what that was about. I didn't tell him, not really, just kind of fudged around it and we ended up missing our first Transfiguration class, though for some reason McGonagall didn't say anything to me," he added with a rueful smile. "Then Remus let us borrow his notes so that we could do our homework, so it was never even brought up. He wasn't even technically our friend yet."

"I think I just somehow knew I'd better get used to it," Remus said with a roll of his eyes, taking a seat on the steps anyways and propping his head in his hands like he was trying to pretend this was all casual stuff.

Sirius gave him a nudge with his foot before rounding up, "I didn't go home for that Christmas or Easter holiday, but my summer there wasn't pretty. She basically disowned me, swearing up and down I could never make up for this terrible mistake I made." He gave a tragic look to the ceiling, then smirked at Harry before finishing, "a memory I look back on quite fondly now."

They watched Harry for another second, and this time he did open his mouth before quickly closing it, clearly still dithering, so Remus instead said, "my parents are afraid of me."

Sirius had to bite back the instant feeling he had of correcting Remus, he'd only met his parents twice and he'd never gotten that impression, but Remus seemed to feel anyone who wasn't an Animagus was afraid of him no matter what they said. It was one of the reasons he avoided his own dad now.

"What?" He squawked in surprise, looking Remus in the eye to make sure that wasn't some cruel joke.

He just shrugged however, though his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his robes showed his careless tone wasn't really all there as he explained, "well, they certainly never look me in the eye. They asked me if I could even try to stay at Hogwarts over summer break because they realized the school was much better equipped to handle me. During my full moons, they'd shut me up in a room, sort of like they had to do here, and then leave the house for twenty four hours, just to make sure they weren't around for any part of the cycle."

Harry's mouth was actually hanging open in shock now, which only made Remus give a not at all amused smile. "Oh they took care of me after the fact, bandaged me up and all that. I never knew if it was shame, or fear, or something else, but I do know I stopped going around my parents place not long after I left school, and they've never asked me over since. Last time I saw them was when my Mum passed away and I honestly thought when I was asked up to the hospital it was a joke."

Harry seemed to realize he was staring then, and quickly closed his mouth, but at least this time he didn't turn away from them and instead ran his hand through his hair some more as he said haplessly, "I, don't know what you want me to say. He throttled me sometimes, but only when I was much younger, when my magic was really obvious. He only did it till I went slack, and I learned to do that pretty fast, then he'd lock me in my cupboard until he'd decided I'd learned my lesson. It never did leave a bruise," he emphasized, now rubbing absently at his throat in remembrance.

"How come you never went to the police, told someone," Remus asked gently.

Harry rolled his eyes at what he felt was an absurd question. "Even if I'd had the gall to, which I didn't as Vernon terrified me through most of my younger years, I had no proof, which he'd occasionally point out whenever someone looked at me on the street to long. You think I didn't notice that Dudley and I were clearly so different from each other. But Vernon always said that if I ever said a word about how they'd dealt with any of my weirdness, I couldn't prove it. They'd say that Dudley's second bedroom was mine, and they really only did take food away from me whenever my magic was acting up, never so much I was malnourished."

He paused then, a calculating look on his face as he added, "I don't really think Petunia or Dudley knew, or if they did they didn't care. Petunia was certainly all for the food part though, so I may not put it past them."

Harry looked back to see that a nerve was thumping in both of their jaws, and he was quick to tack on, "he really did stop after I turned eleven though. He was definitely to afraid of my magic, and it really wasn't that frequent."

"And your twelfth birthday," Sirius managed to get out in a steel tone.

Harry flattened his hair with nerves, but at this point recognized there was no reason not to tell them. "Okay, yeah, he did it then until I did pass out. Woke up in the bathroom and they wouldn't let me out until Vernon had put those bars on my window. They've got their own bathroom in their bedroom, so it hardly put them out."

He crossed his arms defensively when they just kept staring at him. "What? What I just said isn't nearly as bad as what you two had."

While they weren't exactly going to argue with him over such a topic it hardly made what he did say feel better.

Up the stairs in their room, Lily watched James collapse on the bed. He'd taken his glasses off first, so that he could press his hands so hard into his face, his palms digging into his eyes, he looked like he was trying to gouge them out.

"James," she whispered, sinking down beside him, but completely at a loss for words.

"I can't stop seeing it," he got out through a restricted throat. "The cupboard, Pettigrew, Harry watching Cedric get murdered right in front of him, now this. I'm fighting this war to try and save my only child, and at this rate my dying feels about as useful as my life."

"Don't-" she begged at once, her hands latching onto his, trying to pull them away, but he still managed to keep going, "I couldn't even save you. You're the one who saved Harry, I just got tossed aside like the useless thing I am-"

"James, please, you can't be thinking like that." She cut him off, nearly begging to try and get him to stop. She had to tug hard for a moment, but finally his hands slid away to reveal bloodshot eyes. She stayed leaning over him, hazel matching green as she whispered, "don't you think I'm feeling the same way. She was my sister James, and she's doing this to my baby, but don't you start talking like that now. We will find a way to fix this, make it so that Harry never has to be without us again."

James gave a derisive snort, his eyes still vacant as he whispered, "some dad I'd turned out to be anyways, Harry's been lying his arse off since he got here, and did you see that look on his face. Now I've scared him senseless, I'll be lucky if he doesn't look at me the way he does Vernon now. Should probably just hand him over to Sirius already and be done with it for all the-"

Lily popped him on the forehead, and when he only winced but kept at his insane mutterings, she smacked him, hard.

"James, listen to yourself," she pleaded. "If Harry doesn't understand why you were so upset then that's because he's never had his father around to be upset on his behalf, but he could never put you and Vernon in the same scope of his life. You're too good a person, and he knows that."

His face twitched, like he wanted to believe her but couldn't quite grasp the emotion yet, so she kept going. "And if you actually think Harry would replace Sirius with you if he had the chance, then you really need a reality check. They both love you, and they need you. It's a damn cruel world where Harry's from that you're not in the picture, but both of them would do anything to change that."

He closed his eyes then, his jaw still shaking, a few tears managing to escape, but at least for a moment Lily had seen the flash in him like he believed that.

There was silence for a long time between them, Lily not moving a muscle and James trying to get his under control, until finally he took a careful breath in through his nose and releasing it through his mouth before whispering, "I love you."

"I love you to," she said back at once.

He opened his eyes then, watching her for several more beats before moving like he was going to sit up. Lily sat back and let him, but she was at once buried into his chest as he wrapped his arms as tight around her as he could. "What did I do to deserve you?" He muttered into her hair.

"If I figure it out, I'll let you know," she returned, snuggling him for as long as they both needed, before he took another deep breath and whispered;

"Guess I should go back down and face them."

"They're all worried sick about you," Lily said at once. "You looked likely to jump through a window when you came pelting up here."

He made an odd noise, one Lily couldn't decide if it was in agreement or protest, but then he took to his feet, put his glasses back on, and started for the door, her hand still tightly in his, their rings pressed together.

As they came back down they saw Remus had to hop out of the way, and quickly took in the other two. Sirius who was an ugly gray but trying to pretend he was acting normal, and Harry's arms crossed and still looking defensive. It did not improve his mood that when Harry saw him, his foot looked like he wanted to take an automatic step back, but he met his eyes and at once whispered, "I'm sorry."

James opened his mouth, couldn't think of anything to say, closed it, and walked past him back to the living room. Lily met her son's eyes as well, but didn't release her hold on James and instead hissed something at him as James made for the recliner. He didn't respond, instead sinking down into that and pulling his wife with him. She perched on his lap, giving him a look that said plainly she did not approve of his actions, but when he wrapped his arms around her waist again and didn't look up to moving, she just rolled her eyes and looked back towards them expectantly.

"He's mad at me," Harry murmured for Sirius and Remus' ears alone.

"Only for the next hour or so," Sirius waved it off. "I pissed him off real good when I denied what my mother had been doing to me for most of my childhood. These two asked me a lot of the same questions they'd been asking you when I came back from holiday, and I gave a lot of the same answers. Didn't admit to it all till I ran away, and even while he was helping me unpack he was ribbing me."

"If there's one thing you want to do to piss Prongs off, it is lie to him," Remus nodded in agreement. "When he found out how long I'd gone without telling him about my being a werewolf, he was really ticked, so much so he went and did something illegal," he finished with an amused smile, causing Sirius at least to laugh.

Harry did not join in, still watching his dad with clear guilt on his face, but followed the other two as they went back into the room as well. He stood in the doorway, and finally he couldn't take it anymore. He'd never in his life imagined his father so angry with him, and the rejection trying to well up inside him and cast a new shade of light on every good memory he'd collected so far had the words bursting out of him before he'd considered them. "I'm sorry, alright. I'll tell you, I promise-" he tried to think of some way to begin, but the words failed him, so honestly stalling for time he finished in a whisper, "after this chapter's over."

James only hesitated a beat, nodded to indicate he'd heard, but still didn't unbury himself from Lily's back.

Harry quickly shuffled to the farthest sofa away, trying to curl himself into the cushions and looking anywhere but at his parents.

James had his face pressed into Lily's spine, doing a terrible job of pretending he wasn't paying attention to any of them, while Lily was giving him the stank eye over her shoulder but clearly wasn't moving until she saw something else.

Remus and Sirius exchanged uneasy looks, but finally Remus sat down next to Harry and Sirius went back to fetch the book. The last thing he actually wanted to do was go back and see how long Vernon had his hands on Harry before his little pup passed out, for all he knew he'd barely get a few more words in before he incited rage all over again from himself and James. Normally this would be the time Harry would step in, read for them as a reminder he was fine, but for now he was pretending to be invisible.

It also occurred to all three of them that they'd had this conversation when James and Lily hadn't even been here, so they'd never even gotten their sons full confession. Remus and Sirius locked eyes, knowing now probably wasn't the time, but hopefully by the end of this chapter everyone would be at least a bit calmer and they'd convince Harry to tell Lily and James what he'd told them. Sirius fidgeted with the page for a long time, before finally the silence dragged on and he felt he had no other choice but to keep going.*

Vernon was snarling into Harry's ear to put that thing away before anyone saw it!

Harry tried to pry his fingers away, telling him to get off, all while keeping his wand steadily pointed.

Sirius' fingers were so tight around the book they were beginning to hurt, but he couldn't release his hold one little bit, he was too busy picturing them being around Vernon's neck.

The pain of it all piqued, and Vernon yelped as he removed himself from Harry.

Remus wasn't even distracted by the coppery taste of blood in his mouth from biting his tongue to stop himself uttering a string of constant curses, his own throat vibrating violently already showing how he felt about having to imagine that being done to Harry. The very worst part was, this still wasn't the worst thing happening. There could still be danger around Harry, and Vernon was merely causing a fatal distraction.

An invisible force seemed to have surged through his nephew, making him impossible to hold.

Lily's face was ghastly white as that image kept floating just behind her mind's eye, blocking out her once peaceful living room and adult son trying to burrow himself out of sight behind Sirius and into the couch. How many times had this happened in his youth? Often enough it was clear this was a common reaction of Vernon's to begin throttling Harry, even in plain view of the street like that. Had his accidental magic ever kicked in before? Or had he never held on so long this happened? She hardly wanted answers to any of these questions, she was still likely to vomit and start skinning that walrus already with her own.

Harry stumbled out of the plants and forced himself to remain on the rest of the street, but there was no sign of any person to have made that noise. There were people starting to peek into the street.

This only reinforced what Lily had just been thinking though, and now she couldn't shake the thought! How on earth was that excuse- that was such a blatant sign of abuse and surely someone had just seen it as the neighbors were looking around. Did everyone in that neighborhood care so little about Harry's well being because of the Dursley's lies no one was going to do anything about this!

Harry stuffed his wand hastily back into his jeans and tried to look innocent.

Harry glanced half hopefully at Remus or Sirius, like he was hoping one of them would make a joke at his expense, but neither of them did, they were still too pail from anger to take the bait. Both were thinking of themselves in the future, what they wished they'd already done to Vernon but each having never done so and neither finding it excusable.

Vernon began playing it off at once, waving cheerfully to all and shouting about some car backfiring.

James still had his face buried in his wife's hair, though the fiery color was doing little to improve his mood it still held the only comfort he could find at the moment, and was far to distracted to ask what on earth that could mean in any relation to the noise Harry reacted to. He was just more disgusted Vernon was playing off his own moment.

He continued to grin in a horrible, manic way,

"I've never seen him grin like anything else though," Harry grumbled softly, as the silence apart from the violent reading was starting to freak him out. He'd grown far to used to the constant flow of commentary, and had learned that long lapses in silence like this were usually at the worst of times. He didn't agree this leveled up with other moments.

until the other faces vanished. Then his grin flipped to rage as he beckoned Harry back to him.

Harry flinched in shock at the eruption of growls in the room, but at least this time he understood why. He hadn't wanted to be back in arm's reach of Vernon then either.

Harry only moved a few steps closer, being careful to remain out of arm's reach.

It was highly unlikely before this moment that the Dursleys were going to live much longer when they were released from this place, but now whatever wavering may have persisted at Harry's words wouldn't even hold. It was utterly astounding he'd ever done so when he clearly had memories of this happening to him in his younger years!

He hissed at Harry what he meant by it?

"I hope he had the bleeding piss scared out of him," Remus hissed, choosing to focus on the disappointment this moment didn't cause Vernon heart failure rather than the still lingering fear of what was going on to start this.

Harry asked what he meant while still investigating the street for the noise that had started this.

Despite James' hands still wrapped tight around her waist, Lily was still fighting the urge to go over to her son right now and have him in her arms to make absolutely certain there wasn't anything wrong with him because of this instance. To run her hands gently over his neck, to be where he was and be just as certain no one was going to harm her son while he was surrounded by all those Muggles.

He furiously retorted Harry had made that sound, but Harry interrupted he hadn't done that.

Petunia's face appeared next to Vernon's now, demanding to know what he'd been doing outside their window then?

Sirius had to work furiously with himself not to give some waspish reply, that was far to similar to how his mother had treated him in the house he'd grown up in. Treating every room that wasn't his as if Sirius were trespassing in it.

Vernon at once agreed with his wife, she'd made a good point.

James felt his lip curling up in disgust, did that man have a single brain cell of his own?

Harry sighed before answering, and the two exchanged a look of outrage.

Harry almost laughed as he remembered those looks as compared to the ones his family still had in place. Vernon and Petunia had nothing on outrage when it came to them.

They demanded why he was doing this again, and Harry reminded it changed every day.

That did it. Harry's unexpected comment cracked Remus and he snorted in surprise but just as quickly tried to stifle his giggling. It wasn't hard, he could still feel bloodlust wanting him to curse something into oblivion, but at least Harry met his eyes and grinned back which made it worth it.

Vernon snapped at him to stop lying, his lot did not get onto their news!

Petunia whispered at his side to be careful, the neighbors could still be listening.

Lily rolled her eyes and tisked in disgust. She didn't care it was nearly fourteen years later for the man, he knew perfectly well her lot did in fact end up on the news from time to time, it had been what had drawn the man to question Petunia about Lily's whereabouts all those years ago. Either he'd blocked the memory or he'd forgotten, either way she no longer needed an excuse to find anything he said or did the lowest form of stupid.

Harry shot back that's all they knew.

The two exchanged a look again before Petunia called him a liar. He shouldn't have need of their news, he got his own from those owls.

"Because Merlin forbid he just get letters from his friends," Sirius muttered tersely. His knuckles still white around the books edge and the fearsome tone of his voice hadn't dropped one bit and Harry was starting to grow worried that none of them seemed to be breathing normally for a while now.

Harry hesitated responding, it pulled at him to tell the truth this time,

"Why do you bother!?" James couldn't stop his snap of outrage, but either Harry was expecting it this time or he just rolled with it Harry didn't flinch this time before answering calmly, "I rarely see a point in lying if I can help it." He did finish on a wince though as all of them gave him looks of disbelief for that, considering his lie by omission was a part of the reason everyone in here looked more than angry. He sighed and muttered something, but was sick of lingering on this topic so shot at Sirius, "do you want me to read through this part?"

"No," Sirius snapped right back, turning his boggling eyes away from Harry for now and effectively hiding a tint of hurt now. He couldn't help it though, he seemed to go out of his way to tell those Dursleys the truth as often as he could, but wouldn't for them? In his time or now?

but finally he admitted those owls weren't bringing real news.

Both snapped they didn't believe him at once.

"Don't see the point of telling them the truth when clearly they think he's lying about everything anyways," Lily was still hissing under her breath so low only James could hear, and he was in full agreement.

Petunia said she knew he was up to something,

"Like what exactly?" Remus rolled his eyes in contempt.

"Don't know, never asked for details," Harry said with a happy enough smile, at least someone was trying to push back into playing this off even if every part of Remus clearly didn't feel it. Harry was honestly wishing Remus hadn't put the baby away now, even that little infant would have helped them feel better.

and Vernon added on they weren't stupid.

There were several colorful comments each of them could have made to that, but considering Vernon would have long since died before this conversation had taken place if any of them had had their way besides Harry, Sirius didn't bother listening to the variety and instead kept up his lackluster reading in hopes this chapter would just end. Anger and worry were still at war with each other over Harry's predicament, and he wanted some kind of proof his little pup wasn't about to be attacked right there on the street and that Vernon was going to have his hands removed soon, not necessarily in that order.

Harry snapped back that was news to him!

Remus couldn't help it that time, he did manage a soft laugh under his breath for Harry's wit, but he was still the only one.

Harry couldn't help rolling his eyes at what he was now considering an overreaction from everyone else. He was fine, and if they really wanted another apology he'd give it just to stop all of this ugly silence and silent death threats he could still feel pulsing through the room.

He didn't wait for a response, but instead stormed off before either of them could call him back and was soon at the end of the street.

Lily blinked spastically for a moment as fear finally trumped anger. Harry was only at that place because apparently it was safe from dark attacks, but now he'd up and left with the noise of an apparition still going unexplained. Exactly how far was that protection magic around number four? Just the house, the street? Yet for even a second to turn around and say she wanted Harry to stay at that house for a moment longer would always feel wrong, it really spoke volumes she'd prefer Harry's chances with a dark wizard rather than her sister and husband in law.

He was in trouble now and he knew it.

Remus was dying to ask Harry what he defined as 'trouble' with those people. Another round of strangling? Harry'd made it clear it wasn't that common, but now he truly was in the dark of how much Harry could be leaving out there. Sirius was still reading every word as a death sentence and very clearly wanting to finish this, and since Remus was well aware Harry wasn't getting out of this conversation again at the end of the chapter he didn't bring it up for now.

He would have to face his aunt and uncle later and pay the price for his rudeness,

Sirius couldn't take the suspense anymore and did ask, "pay what price exactly?"

Harry wanted to sigh and roll his eyes, try and play this all off or just ignore it like he had in the past, but at this point he was sure that wouldn't help any. He didn't see how telling them the entire truth would make it much better, but he wasn't sure it could get any worse either. "Threats mostly, he knew he couldn't do anything to me, even if he knew I wasn't supposed to be doing magic he was still afraid I would after Marge. Locking me in the shed mostly, he even kept the padlock all nice and polished," he finished with a forced laugh like looking back made it funny rather than as menacing as he'd honestly found it, but he'd instead been right the first time, several disturbing noises promising more violence and more death glares at the door showed his honesty had won him nothing.

but he didn't care at that moment, his mind still on other matters.

That cracking noise was one made when someone Apparated, or Disapparated.

Harry was still very distracted by the tension that had practically taken up a seat in this room, and he had no want to think about the tingling feeling saying he could have a gut answer to that question.

No one else had really forgotten what had started the instance either, and honestly fear was starting to trump outrage. None of them could wait to start wringing Vernon's neck themselves, they'd probably have to find an object to do so considering their hands wouldn't wrap around but that wasn't the point. Now though, now that Harry was away from him, the reason he'd left was hovering in the forefront just waiting to pounce on their aching hearts. Most likely it was a Death Eater coming for Harry, and he'd now left the only protection he'd had.

Harry may not have understood why as he wasn't fearing the same thing, but he was relieved when Sirius finally started reading in less blood thirsty tones and hoped he'd finally switch back to at least semi normal.

It was exactly the noise he'd heard Dobby make, and suddenly wondered if it was the house-elf that was the cause of this?

Lily could tell she was the only one who was desperately hoping for that to be the answer. The other boys were all still too upset to even consider any kind of good option other than an attack waiting, but Lily was honestly hoping now it was Dobby with some cryptic new message. She'd take that over a fight for his life as strung out as she was right now.

Could Dobby be invisible right now following him? Harry suddenly whirled on the spot like he expected to see the tiny creature hovering right behind him, but still there was nothing, and Dobby could not become invisible.

Harry was looking on at nothing in a funny sort of way, his face twisted as he was so sure he was moments away from realizing something, about being followed by invisible-

"Not invisible," Remus agreed uneasily, "but you do know he can hide at least in a bush." His thoughts were hovering the same as the other boys, that a wizard could be hidden even more easily. Though it did beg the question, if Harry was under attack, why the hiding at all? Were they waiting until he was far enough away from Private Drive to attack? It was hard to see another motive when they were all still on the edge of their seat and white faced from anger.

He kept up his trudging pace, paying no attention to his route as he'd traced through these streets so much of late he would often wander to his favorite spots without thinking.

Lily tried to force herself to see some good news in this, that this wasn't Harry's first foray out of that house that summer and he hadn't been attacked yet. Her hand tightened around James' though as her mind just kept offering up more terrible solutions, that he was just being watched, and someone was waiting.

He couldn't stop glancing back over his shoulder, still convinced there was something magical about that noise he'd heard amongst Petunias begonias.

Harry fidgeted with unease as he was just as sure of this fact now, but he felt no impending threat from this like he was now aware those around him did. Yet that didn't stop a trickle of sweat breaking over the back of his neck as he couldn't find it in himself to comfort them either, to promise nothing bad was going to happen this night. In fact he was now fighting back the impulse to take the book away from Sirius again for a wholly other reason, something bad was going to happen to him tonight and he didn't think his godfather in particular was going to enjoy it.

Why hadn't they come up to him?

Remus shook his head in disbelief at Harry as he asked, "did it really not occur to you this could be an attack?"

"Not really," he sighed. "Dumbledore said the only reason I was going there was because it was supposed to be safe."

They wished they had that kind of faith in Dumbledore, but seeing as they'd never once seen that house as any kind of safe none of them agreed.

As his question burned, his certainty faded. Perhaps it hadn't been a magical noise at all, but something perfectly ordinary Harry was trying to see more into.

"Glory Harry, now I know you've been spending too much time with those muggles," Sirius sighed. "Trying to write off our instances as normal things."

Harry finally felt a real smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Sirius tried for a joke again, somehow it felt better to watch them worry about something they knew he lived through like some impending attack then fear for his health at the Dursleys.

Feeling hopeless and alone, the same thoughts began plaguing him as they had all summer.

Lily felt James twitch behind her, the compulsion to go comfort his son when he heard of that feeling rearing its head and pushing away his own feelings. He sighed deeply, but finally unburied himself from her hair and glanced around at Harry now to see a far away, contemplative look on his face as he rubbed absently at his head while Sirius read, but thankfully there weren't any traces of hopelessness in him now.

Tomorrow the pattern would continue, he'd awake at five o'clock sharp to receive his Daily Prophet, though he often questioned why he continued to bother with the paper as he only took a passing glance at the headline and tossed it in the bin. If the idiots running it finally found news of Voldemort's return, that would be the first page, which was all Harry cared for.

Remus shook his head at Harry's naivety, he was looking for odd instances occurring in the Muggle news but only scanning front headlines of theirs? He was most likely going off his experience last year of the two headlines featuring Barty Crouch and Bertha Jorkins, but those weren't always front cover stories. Sometimes it took a few page flips to find anything remotely interesting other than politics and Quidditch scores. He wasn't going to bring this up to Harry now though, no since in riling him up when soon enough they were going to be hearing more about odd happenings in the book than they already were from their own Daily Prophet from this timeline.

Ron and Hermione would likely send him another letter soon, but they were of no more help.

"News like what?" Sirius couldn't stop himself from asking. "Merlin Harry don't you ever just send fun letters to your friends detailing all the times you've tried to kill your cousin."

Harry just rolled his eyes as he found the question obvious and considered the rest all joking, but he was wrong. Sirius wasn't the only one wondering if Harry would ever get anything resembling a normal life which now seemed laughable with Voldemort's return.

Quoting such things in his head about how busy they were, and they couldn't put much in these letters for obvious reasons, but they promised they'd be seeing him soon.

"That would get on anyone's nerves though," Remus sympathized. "Did they have to be so vague?"

"Wonder why you haven't been invited over to the Burrow yet," Lily agreed softly.

Harry just hummed in annoyed agreement, having no idea why he'd feel like correcting his mother he never made a trip to the Burrow this summer.

That was all that was given though, not a single mention of any specific timeline of when Harry would be joining his friends. He'd picked up some hints that his two friends were together, most likely at Ron's place.

"Now that's just hurtful," Sirius gave an exaggerated pout which was worth it when Harry almost cracked a smile at him. Sirius wanted to still be angry, he was certainly still worried, but Harry was starting to look sickly pale again and he didn't want his pup to be remembering whatever was fixing to happen while still thinking everyone was still mad at him.

It tormented him so much to think of the two having the time of their life at the Burrow while he was stuck here, he'd thrown away the chocolates they'd sent him for his birthday unopened.

"Now that was just hurtful, I don't think I've ever been that mad at anyone."

James still sounded off, but he met Harry's eyes so no matter how much hurt and anger was still there, Harry smiled right back.

He'd regretted it later after the wilted salad Aunt Petunia had provided for dinner that night.

Harry's kindling annoyance was certainly muted from what it had been at the age of fifteen, but it was helping that those around him were finally starting to act at least sort of normal again, so Harry tried not to linger too much on the hurt feelings he remembered feeling from his friends.

Just what were his friends so busy with? Why wasn't he busy with them? Hadn't be proved himself capable of handling more than them!

"What does handling situations have to do with anything?" Lily asked in confusion. "They're not taking Ron and Hermione out on Order missions, most likely Molly's keeping them busy with chores."

Harry at first felt a flash of confusion, like he was quite sure his friends did know something of what was going that he still wasn't privy to, but it was at once drowned out by his certainty that his mother was right and his friends were keeping quite busy and not in a way they were enjoying. It was all very strange considering he still couldn't imagine the Burrow coming into play. In answer, he simply shrugged with some chagrin and said, "well when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous, but yeah that's pretty much what was on my mind. They were out there getting told everything while I was stuck-" he finished with a wince, not having any proper way to refer to the Dursleys anymore without watching them all flash with another bout of anger.

Had they forgotten what he'd done, what he'd been forced to see happen to Cedric while he'd been tied to a tombstone?

Lily felt her throat nearly swollen shut. She couldn't stand just sitting here and letting him go through all that! It was killing her not to ask if he'd talked about this with anyone, but she knew he hadn't, he'd said so himself. The only people he'd ever even remotely brought it up with were Ron and Hermione, and that hadn't been the real talk Harry needed, just his friends listening to him chat about what Voldemort could be up to now.

She took one look at Harry's face though and could tell now still wasn't the time to be bringing this up. Harry's face was still lined with tension as he tried to throw covert looks at his father and was still glancing periodically at the door. Clearly whatever they were trying to prove in showing they were trying to move past that moment wasn't fooling him completely, and bringing back up that graveyard moment would only make him feel worse. She wanted her son to feel safe here, not like she was constantly interrogating him, so it was probably best to wait at least until he was at the Burrow and she could trust Hermione to bring it up for her.

Harry at once cut off that train of thought and scolded himself for the hundredth time that summer.

Sirius read all that with such a horrid wince it looked like his face was going to spasm off, but Harry couldn't think of a word of comfort for him or anyone. He couldn't help what his mind dwelled on, and even without the month long time span in between remembering that and where he was now, he could still remembering what it felt like. It was a mercy being here and not being able to constantly relive that moment like his dreams had been trying to do last night, but at least here he had distractions with his family so he couldn't dwell on that. At the Dursley's he'd had nothing.

It was bad enough he kept visiting the place in his nightmares, he did his best not to think on them in his waking moments too.

Green met green as the two shared a look, Harry trying this very hardest to act like this was no big deal. He was failing, and Lily knew full well what she'd woken him from last night with her gentle touch, but she wasn't going to call him out either as clearly he was not going to have this conversation on top of the Dursleys spit out he was expecting very soon.

None of the boys were remotely surprised either, they'd all heard the noise Harry had been making last night and it really wasn't surprising if they thought about it. His recurring memories would of course bring back the dreams he'd be lingering on when he was that age.

He took a sharp turn and just happened to pass the alleyway he'd first laid eyes on his godfather. Sirius' letters had been just as unhelpful, but at least they were filled more with caution and sympathy with such quotes as reminders to keep himself out of trouble, and he understood this was frustrating to Harry but still not to do anything rash.

Sirius had to work hard at it, but finally he got a tragic look strung across his face before looking around at Harry and demanding, "why do you always take the advice I give you like that? That's sound logic with what I know you get up to."

Harry just gave him an exasperated look back, he wasn't going to explain himself twice and he knew he'd had several mental rants about his godfather as well as his friends. Plus, at least he'd started with the nicety that Sirius understood him.

He'd at least been following that advice, or at least, he hadn't strung his broom to his trunk yet and flown off to The Burrow.

"Honestly you deserve a lot of credit for restraining yourself," Remus chuckled, "I know Sirius himself wouldn't have lasted."

Harry gave an absent smile as he tried to visualize it, but all he was finding was an empty house at the end, which made no sense. Of course the Weasley's would be at their home.

Harry honestly found it galling his godfather giving such advice from the same man who'd broken out of prison to come to Hogwarts and then escaped from there on a stolen hippogriff.

James and Remus couldn't help throwing their heads back in surprised laughter while Sirius' smile turned utterly indulgent.

"Well when you put it like that-" he began to agree, when Remus got a hold of himself and spoke over him, "the best part is, that's still not the most wild thing he's ever done. Don't think we've yet told you about the time a Ravenclaw dared him to tie a string up to-"

"You're going to give Harry the wrong impression about me," Sirius cut him off with a wagging finger and a mischievous smirk.

"What impression would that be?" Harry demanded as he laughed along, finally feeling the releasing tension from his shoulders as they all got a laugh again.

"That I was some scoundrel who deserved that detention," Sirius said, making his eyes go wider with innocence. "I'll tell you that one when I know these two idiots won't paint me in a bad light."

"You know that's never going to happen," James muttered loud enough they all heard anyways, but Sirius kept going with a smug smirk.

He'd reached the park now and sat down in one of the remaining swings, his mind still busy with all of these weighing thoughts. Tomorrow he'd have to come up with some new way to listen in on the news.

"You could always try hanging from the gutters," Remus couldn't help but suggest while he rolled his eyes.

"That's not nearly as comfortable or long term helpful," Sirius shook his head, "though I suppose if the telly's loud enough anyways, he could just lay on the roof, I'm sure he's agile enough to get up there."

"Why do we keep your friends around again?" Lily muttered to James as she watched them have a light bicker over the pros and cons of both while Harry watched indulgently.

"You know you love them," was James' only response. He couldn't decide if he wanted them to stop and keep going so that this bleeding chapter would be done with and he'd feel at least a little better talking to Harry again now that he'd cooled down, or keep listening to something so silly as a kind distraction. Harry made the decision for him.

While it was clear he was enjoying the show, and was the least looking forward to this chapter being over as it would only put him back in the spotlight, he still cleared his throat significantly to at least get past the danger they were all feeling because of that cracking noise still having gone unexplained.

He had nothing else to do after all, even his dreams left him restless. If he wasn't revisiting the graveyard and all that had happened there, he was instead traveling long dark corridors ending in locked doors.

Whatever amusement his pseudo uncles had just given Harry vanished at once as Harry shivered violently. He looked more frightened in that moment then he ever had when realizing what Vernon had been doing to him. Even as Harry tried to shake it off though and just tell the others he truly hated being kept there now more than ever, there was something lingering about Sirius reading about that place...

He supposed those had something to do with the trapped feeling he had when he was awake.

"Well that makes sense," Lily said fairly to try and get rid of at least one of the worry lines that hadn't gone away in ages now in her son.

"You sound like Trelawney," Sirius told her for the soul purpose of switching her worried eyes to being agitated upon him. "Dreams don't mean nothing."

Lily curled up her lip at him, prepared to give a volley of colorful retorts to that comparison, but Sirius promptly ignored her and smugly went back to reading.

The scar on his forehead prickled from time to time to further randomly agitate him, but he hadn't bothered mentioning this to anyone, knowing they wouldn't find that interesting any more.

"Of course I would!" Sirius spluttered at once, any amusement he'd collected for himself vanishing at once. "It means it's bothering you, and less importantly, I get to know when Voldemort's annoyed by something. That all matters very much to me."

Harry studied him for a moment before simply shrugging. He knew Sirius truly was concerned for his well being, but he still hadn't found the need to write his godfather any more than his friends of the annoying pain, it would only make his letters even more repetitious and not even remotely helpful as far as he'd been aware.

He already knew the response he'd get, that it was just going to happen more frequently because Voldemort was back, nothing to worry about, old news.

"You make us comforting you sound so drab," Sirius sighed.

"And I'm confident no one would be telling you that was old news," Lily added on forcefully, she knew no one Harry was sending that information to would just write him off like that.

Remus just winced and chose to say nothing, he couldn't even pretend to say how he'd respond because apparently he didn't exist anymore outside Dumbledore telling Sirius to go find his useless arse.

The injustice of it all welled up inside him so that he wanted to yell with fury.

"I'd suggest letting that out then, alone in the park," James told him. "Better than on someone who doesn't deserve it." Or someone who might resume strangling him because Harry raised his voice. He wouldn't put anything past that monster.

Harry got a rather sheepish look about him though, like he was worried that might be exactly what happened.

He'd been the one to tell everyone Voldemort was back! Yet his reward was to lay around Little Whinging for weeks cut off from the rest of the world, forced to listen to useless news surrounded by dead begonias!

Lily winced at the sharp volume Sirius was using while yelling Harry's thoughts, she honestly believed Sirius was venting a bit of his own frustration in there on Harry's part as he more than likely agreed with Harry's plight. Still, Lily tried to keep up a peaceable conversation, "I thought you said those were hydrangea bushes, not begonias."

Harry gave her a strange look as he said, "there's more than one flower in those gardens."

How could Dumbledore have done this to him? How had his friends forgotten about him here? How much longer was Sirius going to tell him to sit around like a good boy? How much longer until he lost the fight with himself and sent a letter to the stupid newspaper telling them Voldemort was back?

"Well that last one at least is doable just to vent," Remus forced a smile that stuck out more than ever with Harry's seemingly never ending supply of frustrated demands. "Even though it'll most likely be chucked in the fireplace, at least you got all that out somehow."

No one responded, Sirius in particular was still pouting down at the pages that his godson was so clearly frustrated with him and yet Sirius thought Harry was in the right this time. What on earth was Sirius doing leaving Harry at that place? It had been made more than clear he hadn't the faintest idea what went on there, but even if he thought Harry was having the time of his life with those Muggles he would have thought he'd be insisting to Dumbledore to at least let Harry come around to Remus' place by now so that Sirius could visit. Or even the Burrow, since Molly and all the Weasley's most likely knew him now. It really was annoying Sirius as much as Harry the longer he thought about this of why Harry was still there.

These thoughts all continued swirling together in his mind leaving him vacant to the rest of the world as dusk fell around him.

James fidgeted hard, his hands tightening around Lily's waist again in fear that was clearly gripping her as well if her small shivers meant anything. Time was clearly passing Harry by and still no attack had come. What in Merlin's beard had that cracking noise been already? It was going to drive them crazy sitting on the edge of their seats not knowing.

The thing to draw him out of his own thoughts was the sound of many approaching, and Harry looked around curiously to spot a gang all heading home, laughing loudly. At the lead was his cousin, Dudley, as massive as ever, but a year's hard dieting and the discovery of a new talent had wrought a change in his physique.

Remus blinked quizzically, cocked his head to one side, then the other, before declaring, "nope, can't picture it. Here I was thinking he'd break that diet and his pants in his next mention."

Harry smirked a bit, but gave no articulate response. He had no clue what had wrought the change in Dudley to physically better himself, but Harry knew he hadn't considered it much more than what damage it could now do to others which was surely fixing to be explained.

As Uncle Vernon delightedly told anyone who would listen,

"The mailbox then," James snorted in disgust.

Dudley had recently become the Junior Heavyweight Inter-school Boxing Champion of the Southeast.

"I think Harry should actually be terrified for his life," Sirius blinked spastically at the idea. "Teaching that little hippo to punch with accuracy and more power!"

"I still can't wrap my head around him in any training regime," Remus had an odd expression on his face like he wanted to laugh at the idea," but I suppose the best advice always has been play to your strengths."

James shook his head at both of his friends while still vividly imagining all the spells he'd still love to use on Dudley. It didn't matter he was Harry's age, he couldn't picture anyone raising a fist to his son anymore without seeing red and Dudley was still second on the list.

Harry may no longer have been afraid of Dudley,

"Is it because you can set him on fire with a word?" Sirius asked innocently, "because I heard that can instill some real confidence."

Harry gave an easy laugh as he fell into joshing about Dudley, avoiding mentioning that after surviving Lord Voldemort Dudley was more laughable than a hedge.

but he still didn't think that Dudley learning to punch harder and more accurately was cause for celebration.

"I'm starting to wish you had to take psych evaluations before learning to play in sports like that," Lily muttered bitterly, thinking that even if Harry wasn't his victim anymore, most likely Dudley was still bullying others out there with this new found gift.

Neighborhood children all around were terrified of him -

James scoffed in disgust as he pictured it, and how any complaints would go nowhere and the best thing to do would be to call the Muggle police on that boy if there was any luck. Preferably while Harry was not in the vicinity.

even more than they were of that odd Potter kid whom everyone knew attended a center for criminals.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes as he remembered that stupid lie, but for some odd reason he had a bad feeling about his real school year to come and how it may be worth going to that center to avoid another attendance at Hogwarts this time.

Harry watched them passing by without taking notice of him, and Harry had to fight back the urge to hail them back.

"That would, certainly be, interesting?" Remus said brokenly, unsure if he was supposed to be laughing as the last time Dudley had bothered Harry he'd run off screaming to his mum about Harry setting a plant on fire, and now he'd be doing this in front of his friends. On the other hand, was testing Dudley really the best idea, as surely he would tell his parents and Harry was already in enough trouble.

Harry had an unfamiliar look on his face, but it was only because of the flashing green eyes that set the look off. Otherwise he was practically the spitting image of James, ready to antagonize someone because they'd ticked him off, to vent some of his frustrations when Lily'd just turned him down again. It was an uncharacteristic look for Harry and really showed just how frustrating his being there really was to him for Harry to be trying to vent in this particular way.

If Dudley's friends saw him here alone, they would without a doubt try to come over and start something with him, leaving Dudley in a hard place. He wouldn't want to lose face in front of them, but he'd be terrified of provoking Harry.

Remus rolled his eyes as he at once noticed Sirius adopting the same look as Harry, ready to rile Harry up in this clear display of fun to him, giving no regards to the consequences of what could happen if this played out. Honestly Dudley did deserve the outcome, but Remus still didn't want Harry to take any of the fall which was most likely to happen at the end of any scenario.

Harry would find it the most fun he'd had in ages to watch Dudley's dilemma, taunting him and watching him be powerless, while if any of his friends did try something Harry could draw his wand on them in a second.

Lily huffed and gave Harry the stank eye for that, he knew quite well that he wasn't going to go cursing any of those boys and none of those Muggles would do any more than laugh at such a real threat to them. She understood he was angry but she could think of five other healthier ways than provoking Dudley and she was not happy to be hearing him entertaining this, but she still couldn't bring herself to scold him for it either. Dudley had done quite a lot of damage to Harry and he deserved just a tiny bit of payback, she just wished he'd think about the consequences more than Dudley squirming.

He'd honestly love the opportunity, to torment the boys who'd made his youth hell.

James couldn't help it though, he laughed just a bit under his breath as he was on Harry's side, his sons wit would be worth whatever fight broke out between those boys.

They didn't see him though, and Harry didn't really draw their attention. He had to fight hard against the impulse, as picking a fight would only get him a risk of expulsion.

Harry clucked his tongue in annoyance at what he considered a wasted opportunity, but then why did he have a sudden surge of confidence he did use magic this night...and it involved Dudley.

They began fading back into the night, and Harry watched them go with disappointment as he thought towards Sirius that he'd done as asked, the exact opposite of what his godfather would have done.

All five of them finally gave a free laugh again, not a breath wasted on saying otherwise.

He did rise to his feet once they were out of sight, and began trailing the noise out of sight. Vernon and Petunia thought the best time for Harry to be home was when Dudley was. Vernon had already threatened to lock Harry in the shed if he was late again.

"The worst part is, I now know you're not kidding," James hissed, a fire rekindling in his eyes at that threat.

Harry fidgeted, but remembering his promise, decided against playing it off this time and weakly offered, "Well, it's better then the cupboard right? Probably because I wouldn't fit in there anymore."

"I think I liked it better when you weren't trying to be funny about this," Lily muttered in disgust.

Harry rewound his path back towards Private Drive, passing the now quiet and dark houses that only had little patches of beams to light his way. He liked Little Whinging best like this, when all the neighbors couldn't glance out the window and start muttering about the 'delinquent.'

Lily still couldn't help but clench her teeth in disgust of all of these people swallowing all of the Dursley's lies so easily. Lily could never imagine seeing such a scrawny little kid like Harry next to pampered Dudley and not questioning it, now he'd practically grown up and never had one single person said a word about such a thing?

Harry came to a stop in the shadows when Dudley's gang was departing from him, all saying their farewells to their friend calling him Big D. Harry waited until they were all out of sight and Dudley was on his own before sprinting after his cousin and calling him in the same name.

"You're just begging for that fight tonight," Remus said with resignation.

"Least he was alone now, and not stupid enough to pull anything," Harry half heartedly defended while stopping the trembling of his hand going for his wand now. Every moment that passed left him more sure than ever something was fixing to happen...to him or Dudley. Maybe they really were going to be attacked tonight.

Dudley turned, but turned back away at once when he recognized who it was.

Harry caught up to him anyways and asked how long he'd been going by Big D?

Dudley just told him to shut it.

"And I was just dying to know the answer to that," Sirius muttered belligerently as he flipped the page viciously, his mind's eye now vividly picturing what Harry was heading back towards, and if that cretin put his hands back near Harry again Sirius was going to have a much harder time stopping Prongs a second time.

Harry ignored this and told that he may find it a cool nickname, but Dudley would always be Ickle Diddykins to Harry.

Lily snorted volatility in surprised laughter which quickly dissolved into giggling while the other boys quickly gave a nice laugh for Harry using up Petunia's pet name like that. They were honestly starting to wonder though if they were being paranoid, if that crack really had been nothing. Harry had been alone for hours, far enough away from that house he really would have been vulnerable if anything was going to happen. They were at least trying to force themselves to relax, Harry wasn't in immediate danger, from the outside world anyways.

Dudley repeated shut it, louder.

Harry reminded he never told his mum to shut it, and then further asked if he could at least use Popkin or Dinky Diddydums?

Sirius never would have believed he could read with such blissful happiness once again, but being able to read this after all the horrid feelings he'd already been feeling on top of yesterday's times made this mild taunting feel euphoric.

Dudley said nothing. The effort of keeping himself from hitting Harry seemed to demand all his self-control.

"I never would have bet he'd have so much self control," James smirked, still picturing that fat little blob sneaking sweets from the fridge when he'd been on his diet.

Harry switched though to a less amusing topic, asking who his victim had been tonight? Had he gone after Mark Evans again?

"Evans eh?" Sirius looked up and around curiously.

Lily just shrugged though, saying, "don't ask me, I told you my maiden name's actually a common one. My dad never mentioned any more family to me though, so I wouldn't think there's an actual relation." Her face went an ugly puce color as she remembered that Harry was only there because Petunia was supposedly all the family Harry had left. If she did have some distant relative out there who was of her blood other than Petunia, she still suspected Harry would have been better off with some stranger she'd never met.

Dudley snarled back that kid had been asking for it, he'd cheeked him.

"Clearly not hard to do," Sirius snorted.

Harry asked if he'd been told he looked like a pig in a wig? Because that wasn't cheek if it was true.

Harry felt a small smile as those around him laughed at his humor, they were clearly trying to force themselves to calm down finally after that disastrous blowout Vernon had caused, which made Harry feel all the more uneasy that the true danger was only just getting started.

Harry was watching with high entertainment at the frustration he was clearly causing Dudley, like he was siphoning off his own and passing it along.

Lily ran her hand through her hair with a sigh, accidentally flicking some into James' mouth, still wishing Harry wouldn't do such a thing but at least semi grateful he was doing something about it. It would be even worse to have no release she supposed, she just wished he wasn't suddenly even unintentionally mimicking his father in his school years like all the boys around her were clearly laughing about.

They turned right down the narrow alleyway where Harry had first seen Sirius,

Sirius couldn't stop a little shiver creeping into his tone for realizing that, though he would have thought that was a good thing, such a random mention of that alley way managed to try and spring all his worrying fears of his time in Azkaban. What a stupid thing to be dwelling on now when those creatures were as far away as could be from his pup.

when Dudley suddenly stopped in the dark where the streetlights couldn't reach them on either side, demanding of Harry he thought he was a real big man carrying that thing?

"Can't even bring himself to say wand," Remus rolled his eyes in disbelief at this walking dung bomb.

Harry grinned again as he told Dudley he wasn't as stupid as he looked, but then if he was he couldn't walk and talk at the same time.

"No need for digging into blond jokes there Harry," Sirius critiqued. "I know you're better than that."

Harry pulled out his wand.

"Was just proving a point," Harry quickly said in defense, throwing his hands up in surrender at once of his mum giving him such a look of exasperation.

Dudley looked sideways at it, reminding Harry at once he wasn't allowed or that freak school of his would expel him.

"And wouldn't that just make every one of your coming holidays," James snapped, honestly finding it a miracle the Dursleys never tried to provoke Harry, to find some way to get him expelled from a place they hated so much.

Harry said back slyly that for all Dudley knew, they'd changed the rules.

Dudley said they hadn't at once, but his tone wasn't so sure.

"For all he knows the crazy school of magic burns it's rule book every few months," Remus snickered.

Harry just laughed, and Dudley snarled back Harry was just too scared to take him on without that thing.

"Well can you blame him," Lily grumbled, "he's twice the size of you."

Harry just shrugged though, he hadn't feared Dudley in a long time by that point, and while he still didn't consider himself much of a physical fighter, he was honestly rather confident by this point he could probably take Dudley on if he stayed out of his range enough and made at least one good blow of his own. He'd just never bothered as it still wouldn't win him anything where he was staying that night.

Harry said back with derision that all Dudley needed to beat up kids was four mates behind him. Asking about that boxing title he was so proud of and how old his opponent had been, single digits?

Even James was well aware they put opponents up in better racquets than that, but it still wasn't a nice thought Dudley could be out doing this to such young kids in his own neighborhood which they all honestly believed.

Dudley snarled back he was their age, twice the size of Harry, and out cold for twenty minutes after Dudley was finished with him.

"Was I supposed to be impressed?" Remus mock yawned.

"Weight isn't everything," Sirius sniffed. "I'm sure Harry's still faster than him and Dudley."

Then going on to say he was going to go straight home and tell his dad that Harry had that thing out-

"Running off a tattletale now," James sneered, still fighting back his own impulse to curse Dudley stupid.

Harry cut him off for being so afraid, but Dudley sneered back that Harry wasn't usually this brave at night.

Harry felt himself shiver just a bit, he had a bad feeling where Dudley was trying to go with that crack.

At first confused, Harry returned that it was night now, that's what people call it when it's all dark.

This time no one could wrangle up much humor for that jab, they all remembered what they'd heard from Harry last night and what Dudley may have been hearing for over a month now. However, if he was really fixing to mock Harry for his nightmares, that kid was in for a serious problem from the lot of them, more than he already was.

Dudley snapped back when Harry was in bed.

Harry still didn't get it, asking what he was supposed to be afraid of, pillows?

Sirius managed a laugh, but he was the only one who did.

Dudley said back triumphantly he'd heard Harry all last night whining in his sleep.

Harry mumbled something as he shifted around uncomfortably, not meeting anyone's eyes. He tried to swallow, to say what he wasn't sure, because he only managed to cough and just gave up, waving Sirius on to get it over with.

He didn't want to, this wasn't going to go well.

Harry tried to deny it, but he could already feel it was pointless even as Dudley mockingly quoted Harry about 'not Cedric!'

"How would he, why-" Lily began sputtering in outrage. As cruel a child as she'd always seen Dudley, she never imagined he'd stoop to taunting Harry about this. He was having nightmares about it for crying out loud, surely some shred of humanity must live in Dudley for him to realize this was the very last thing you should ever taunt someone about! Harry's little jabs had been of no comparison to the cruelty of this! Yet she couldn't string all of that together, and Sirius wasn't going to wait for her to as he spewed it all out.

Harry tried to snap that Dudley was just lying, but it wasn't possible, he couldn't know Cedric's name any other way.

Dudley paid Harry no mind, already moving on to whining for help from Harry's parents and how pathetic Harry had sounded.

That one hurt the worst, and the foulest part was Dudley had no idea what he was really mocking. Harry hadn't once mentioned a thing about his parents to Dudley of all people, but the ghostly images of his parents that night haunted him nearly as much as Cedric.

Dudley's cruel laughter was cut short as Harry finally lost his temper, and drew his wand, right for Dudley's heart.

Sirius finally felt some of the heat rushing his face receding in relief. He couldn't stop what he was forcing himself to spit out, mocking Harry like that even if every part of him knew it was technically another person doing it. He'd rather pull off all of his extremities than really hear someone saying things like that to his pup, and was more than pleased to finally find the part where Harry really pushed back.

Dudley backed into the wall in fear as Harry felt the past fourteen years of hatred pounding through him. What would he give to strike Dudley now, have him crawling home from the worst of jinxes, like sprouting feelers.

James hummed in pleasure at the idea of leaving Dudley transfigured for at least a few days, might teach him a lesson or two.

The two began shouting loudly at each other, Harry demanding that Dudley never speak of this again, while Dudley told Harry to put that thing away!

Remus honesty wondered how long this circular argument could last. Harry had the most anger and power on his side, but he wasn't going to put it past Dudley to strike out in fear here soon and Harry may accidentally curse him just on instinct and get himself into some real trouble with the Ministry again.

It ended when both boys shuddered as if icy water had been dumped on them.

"Did you finally do something?" Sirius demanded eagerly, but when he glanced up and Harry said nothing, instead he noticed his pup growing sickly pale, Sirius thought the answer was yes and he was just realizing how much problems he'd just caused himself. He didn't wait around for Lily or anyone else to berate him for what he'd done, Dudley had deserved it.

Harry suddenly blinked in confusion as he glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything, there was no light. The stars, moon, and streetlamps had vanished.

Then the book was suddenly in fear of falling from his too slick hands, icy chills covering him while sweat broke across his palms. He'd recognize that description anywhere, he kept imagining it happening to him in the coming months of his world going black with that cold. The oddity of it didn't sink in though until beside him Remus spluttered in disgust, "what the devil are those things doing there!"

Nobody answered him, no one had even the faintest idea. All Lily and James could think to do was praise Merlin and all their luck in the world Remus had taught Harry to do that Patronus spell so many years in advance, because whatever anomaly had caused dementors to appear in Little Winging right near Harry, it had saved their son's life.

Harry came to his senses first, a flare of protection raising his head as he saw Sirius' plight and tried to reach around and take the book from him, but that snapped Sirius out of it and he clearly wasn't having it. He held it protectively to his chest and gave Harry as superior a look as he could manage underneath that pale skin, "unless you actually died in this chapter from something as stupid as dementors when I know full well you can handle them, you're keeping your paws off this until it's your turn."

Harry rolled his eyes, deciding to leave Sirius be if he really wanted to unnecessarily prove something to them by reading about those things.

There was no noise, no nothing but a biting cold seeping into their every skin.

For a split second Harry thought he'd done something by accident,

Despite her absolute confidence Prongs was going to make an appearance any moment and keep her son safe, it still didn't stop Lily nibbling at her lip in fear of how long Harry was going to have to suffer hearing her scream again before that time came.

then reasoning caught up with him as his brain reminded no wizard was powerful enough to turn off stars.

Remus couldn't help a particularly hard involuntary shiver for that idea, what he wouldn't give some nights to blot out the moon, but it had never really occurred to him that a price that could be paid for that wish was a soul.

Harry began wildly looking around to find them, but Dudley broke his concentration by demanding to know what Harry was doing to him.

James honestly wished it was Harry doing this to Dudley, at least his son doing some sort of magic on Dudley would have been more laughable and entertaining than watching Sirius stutter this out in fear. He really had no clue why Padfoot was insisting he wanted to read about those creatures that more than likely were the star of his own nightmares now.

Harry tried to get him to shut up as he strained his ears, thinking desperately that they couldn't be here, all the while his brain was warning him he'd see them before they arrived.

The problem was they all knew full well Dudley wasn't going to do a thing Harry told him to, Dudley still thought it was Harry doing this, so they all stayed clenched in fear as something new occurred to them. They hated Dudley for everything he'd ever done to Harry, but they'd never wanted his soul sucked out! Harry could certainly fend them off himself, but would he be able to keep Dudley protected as well? He'd kept a hundred at bay before, surely he wasn't about to witness something so inhuman happening to another person now.

Dudley was not listening to a word as Harry was still telling him to shut up, but then they both fell silent as they heard it. The deep, rattling breath trying to take in more than air.

Sirius was doing an unintentionally good impression of that noise in between drawing breaths to keep going. They really worried he was going to run himself out of oxygen in his strive to force himself to keep reading about the demons he kept fearing were going to ruin his life.

Dudley swore one last time if Harry didn't stop it, he'd hit him!

Harry tried one last time to tell Dudley to shut-WHAM.

Sirius hadn't meant to shout that so loud he made everyone around him jump, but he honestly hadn't been expecting that word either. What on earth hit Harry at a time like this? Surely even Dudley wasn't that stupid!

Something violently collided with the side of Harry's head, and little lights popped across his vision as he hit the ground, his wand skittering away.

James felt a snarl of outrage ripping up his throat, of all the times he'd wanted to inflict physical violence on someone rather than cursing them, this now made number one. Of all the times for that idiotic Muggle to be doing this to his son!

Harry called after Dudley what a moron he was,

"My honest sentiments, really you should have told him much sooner," Remus hissed under his breath as he kept white knuckling his wand.

all while scrambling around on his knees to find his fallen defense.

Dudley was paying none of this a mind as he tried to blunder away, but Harry shouted after him he was heading right for it!

Sirius never would have believed he'd feel so much fear galloping inside of him for Dudley Dursley, but there was no way he could deny it was there now. Sirius had never before wished this fate on anyone, even that wretched Muggle, but the absurd imagery of this happening to a Muggle was at least helping to block out his mind's eye offering up the same image happening to him.

Dudley did not respond, instead his footsteps faltered and Harry felt the chill somehow manage to increase. There was more than one.

Lily could feel the scream building up in her throat, still unable to shake from her mind of Harry passing out around these creatures. He'd grown stronger since then, but even staring at her full grown son she still couldn't erase the fear of what those things once did to him.

Harry howled after his cousin to keep his mouth shut at all costs! Then he kept shuffling frantically across the ground, his fingers grasping at nothing but dirt in frustration before shouting on instinct the spell to light it, lumos.

Five inches from his right hand, his wand tip ignited.

Sirius might have felt bad at breaking off there with such a horrible timing, but his gaping mouth wouldn't shut and he was having problems finding his brain to keep going. It had gone from overdrive to off like a switch.

"That was wandless magic!" Remus collected himself first. "Merlin Harry, even the most advanced wizards struggle to do that under extreme pressure!"

Harry cocked his head to the side as he stared at him, something tickling in the back of his mind as he asked, "can't wands do magic without us though? Act on their own to aid."

"I've never heard of that," James came back to himself enough to say, "but I suppose none of us are wand experts either. You'd be better asking Ollivander such a thing."

Lily just shook her head in exasperation at her boy playing off such a moment and trying to divert it back to his wand like that. He really had no clue the potential he'd just enacted in himself.

None of them were quite over their panic, but that had been a healthy kick to make them realize that Harry was going to be fine! He'd take care of Dudley, though the miscreant only just barely deserved it. Surely Harry would be far more concerned for his cousins well being if something had happened to him, rather than still looking curiously into space puzzling his own question.

Harry did not stop to think, grasping it and taking to his feet in one fluid motion to face the dementor.

Sirius honestly wished he could go back and keep talking about all the insane things Harry could start training to do with this newly discovered skill of his, or even have a bloody chat about cabbages if it would get him to stop thinking about these things for even a second now. The only reason he was forcing himself to keep going instead of the cowardly impulses trying to convince him to give these pages up was that Harry was fine. His own plight was going to be worked through, because Harry would get through this.

He shouted the spell to be rid of the creature, but all that came out was a silvery wisp. The spell hadn't worked right, and it was getting harder every second to concentrate.

James felt as if those own slimy fingers were gripping tightly against his own heart. He couldn't shake the image that Prongs was failing Harry now, of all times! It may have been Harry's magic and panic that was causing him to stumble over this, but he was Harry's guardian, that couldn't be a coincidence!

The laughter began in his head, shrill, high-pitched . . .

Lily had to resist the urge to press her hands over her ears like a child so as not to hear this next part. Her pleading screams mixed with that high cold laughter, James trying to save them with some time that would all fail...

The rancid smell of the dementors breath was filling his brain, slowing any train of thought, he could not think of a single happy thing. The laughter changed to the icy voice of Voldemort as the dementor grasped his neck, the echoed words from his nightmare repeating again for Harry to bow to death.

Then Lily's trembling fingers truly did fly up, to cover her mouth to smother a gasp of fear. Her mind simply wouldn't process past the muddle of shock that she was no longer her son's worst memory, her screams would never haunt him again, and yet was this truly better? There was no such thing as a good worse memory, but somehow, in some twisted way, at least in that one she hadn't just died to save her son only for it all to have gone to waste in Voldemort's return. No, at least the vision Harry would have now was his parents truly being able to rescue their child. It would hold no real comfort to anyone, not even herself, though she had not a clue if the boys were even processing all of this in the same way she was, they were all looking ready to jump to their feat in moments and Sirius was going to keel over from forcing himself to read about this dementor experience replaying such a thing!

Harry was sure his last thought would be he'd never get to see Ron and Hermione again, and like a shot of fresh air their faces flashed across his eyes and he finally shouted Expecto Patronum.

It finally worked properly, as the silver stag ran free.

Sirius actually sagged back into the cushions with relief as finally Harry found his friends faces. He'd be safe now, he'd found his will, now all that was left to worry about was Dudley, still an odd enough concept he kept back those poisonous thoughts trying to cloud his own mind.

It's antlers caught the Dementor in the place where the heart should have been;

Remus found a laugh somewhere in him that still came out too strained, but he'd never deny he loved that mental imagery.

and before he had a moment to breathe he ran off in search of Dudley, who was curled upon the ground, his arms clamped tight as could go around his face.

Harry blinked in surprise as he wondered if that was instinct, or Dudley had actually been trying to listen to him. He had no clue, wasn't going to ask, and had no doubts he never did ask Dudley about this experience.

The second dementor was over him, prying his arms apart easily, almost lovingly.

Lily felt her nails digging into James' arms still wrapped tight around her waist, that warmth needed now more than ever as she forced away the image of that being Harry again! How many times had a dementor nearly taken his soul? What would he be if not for Remus? She was more grateful than ever when Sirius found his breath back and forced himself to keep going.

The stag had not yet vanished, instead Harry urged his magical guardian to rid this one as well. Once the creature had vanished as well, the lights began to reaper, and the silvery form flickered, then too went out.

The relief flooding the room was nearly visible, none of them had felt any such thing in what felt like years though honestly they'd just started this book. The trauma of what Vernon had physically done to Harry stacked on top of another near death experience all combined into one thing really was too much to process all at once!

Little Whinging came back to life around him as if the dementors had never been here. Harry's reality was slamming back into him just as quickly, his sweat soaked shirt clinging to him, and his mind screaming the question of why they'd been here to begin with.

"I'm still remembering how to breathe properly from you surviving it, haven't quite gotten to the processing of why's yet." James croaked, keeping his head rested on Lily's shoulders and her curled tight into his chest while he kept a steady eye on Harry. No matter how angry he ever was at his son, it would never trump the sheer pleasure of seeing him alive in this room.

Dudley lay curled on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up,

Remus honestly wouldn't believe so, dementors affected Muggles much more physically than even wizards as they had absolutely no magical ability to fight them off. It would be an honest miracle if Dudley was even still awake instead of passed out on the pavement.

but then he heard loud, running footsteps behind him.

Sirius felt like his spine was going to snap in half he suddenly tensed so hard, his mind filling with images of the Death Eater who had sent those dementors there for Harry, and now preparing to finish the job! Only the tiny little print could distract him from such horrid visions that just couldn't be worse than that.

Harry turned back on instinct, raising his wand again, before Mrs. Figg came panting into sight.

"Oh!" Lily felt almost dizzy from too many things happening back to back, and that random muggle appearing like that certainly was just another level of odd.

Harry could understand his mother's suddenly faint look, his own mind was already starting to feel bogged down with shock at so many things happening to him in this one night, and it wasn't over.

He at once tried to tuck his wand back away, but Mrs. Figg shouted at him for being an idiot trying to put that away, there could be more! She was going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!

"Did she really say that?" Harry yelped fiercely, tugging the book away from Sirius who was honestly relieved to have the bleeding thing out of his hands by this point. "You guys mentioned him as a member of the Order before, as well as Mrs. Figg. There's no way that's a coincidence, which means they must be the same people you know as I do. So this means the Order-"

"Don't change the subject Harry." James told him with a far sterner voice than Harry had yet heard. He honestly felt like taking another step back, never having felt so much like a scolded child. "You promised, now is the chapter over?" James couldn't care one lick what the Order was doing in that moment, or anything else in the world for that matter.

He sighed as he closed the book for answer. He still thought them being honestly ridiculous about all this, he found discussing this groups members and what this could potentially mean for plans against Voldemort far more important, but he also recognized there was just no point in delaying this anymore. A promise was a promise.

"Yes, alright, so sometimes they did things like this, but it never, you know-"

James couldn't help but cut off, his temper still getting the better of him. "No, we don't know, and it's high bloody time you told us!" The only thing stopping him from going and throttling Vernon this second, even if his hands wouldn't fit he'd find a way, was the stupid bloody magic keeping them locked in this house!

Instead of feeling outraged, or even making a move to stop them, Harry just sighed miserably. He'd known this day would come, the book wouldn't just keep glossing over everything, but he really didn't want to get into this! It was over and done with, they really couldn't do anything to him now, and what they had done had never been anything awful enough that he had ever considered telling someone, let alone running away. Even what Marge had done back when he was thirteen had hurt him so much deeper than any physical blow Vernon or Petunia could duel out.

Still, glancing around at all of their haggard faces, he decided it was high time they knew anyways. What's done is done, now and then, so him telling his family wasn't going to make anything any better, honestly it was probably going to make it worse, but he told them anyways because he felt like they deserved to know. Sirius and Remus had told him things about their past, honestly it only seemed fair to divulge something so minor to him.

"Okay, yeah, sometimes they did stuff like this. I meant it though, they never left a real bruise! Sometimes he'd cuff me upside the head when I said something he didn't like, Dudley pushed me around a lot, she swung at me with what ever was in her hand because I'd asked to do something she didn't like, just little stuff like that."

Lily had to very carefully bite her tongue for fear of mimicking James and cutting Harry off when he was finally speaking about this, but she still in no way considered any of that little stuff.

"When I got older, they all pushed me around, reaching out and grabbing me, usually by the arm, and dragging me along if I was caught doing something they didn't like, then they'd shove me in the cupboard and yell at me. I think that's what he was doing now, just reaching out and grabbing hold of me, trying to get me to stop doing something he was afraid of. When I was really little and did some accidental magic, it scared Vernon so much sometimes he'd choke me until I went limp and fell down, but it never left a bruise because he never hung on that long. Just enough that I didn't fight him when he threw me in the cupboard. That's another thing, when I got older I realized they were afraid of me." He paused for just a moment with his head cocked to the side, though this revelation was no longer new to him it still seemed to stun him just saying it aloud.

"They wouldn't ever really do anything too bad to me, because they were afraid of my magic, even when I didn't know I had it. So they never would have done anything to bad to me, because they probably thought I could magically retaliate. Besides, even if they had done something worse, I knew it would be pointless to complain about it, because they were always spreading around the rumor that I was an odd and troubled kid that they kept 'out of the kindness of their hearts.' So if the neighbors saw or wondered anything, they put it down to just 'those poor Dursleys having to deal with a criminal in there house.'"

He seemed to find that conclusive enough he'd be happy to move on, but none of them really felt yet like this was just a matter to move on from. Those Dursleys had abused Harry, physically and mentally, and it was their reasoning and lies that had stopped him from telling anyone or anything being done about it.

Voldemort was a ruthless mass murderer who had made it his mission in life to eradicate a large portion of the population, and they were fighting him because what he was doing was wrong. Then he'd turned his sights on the Potters, and he was not going to get away with that, and still this was different. It wasn't possible to hate two singular people like the four of them did, but Vernon and Petunia were going to pay for what they'd done to Harry.

"I'm guessing you never mentioned a word of this to me?" Sirius muttered morosely, unable to kick out the twisting of hatred for himself he was feeling that Harry didn't know him that well. If only he hadn't been so rash in going after that rat that night, if he'd just stuck around and been there for Harry none of this would have happened to his pup.

Harry shook his head vigorously at once, looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "I didn't need to know you long to know what a terrible idea that was. You needed to be as far away from me as possible, and you knowing about any of that would have made the opposite happen. You moved into Hogwarts backyard because my scar twinged, what on earth would you have done if I ever mentioned this."

Sirius had to breathe carefully through his nose to not start shouting at Harry about that, it should have been his decision, but still he pressed, "not even Dumbledore though? Come on Harry, McGonagall or someone?"

"Did you?" Harry shot back with a triumphant look, clearly already knowing the answer even before Sirius winced and looked away.

Harry looked around at all of them one more time, putting a pleading note into his voice, "I'm sorry if you felt I was lying by not just saying all that, but I really just didn't think it mattered to know. I hated it there, I love it here, that's what mattered to me, I didn't see the point in making you all angry by mentioning something that was long done."

Any of them could have argued the point with him, it would have been easy to spend hours having an uneasy chat about every little thing those Dursleys had ever done to Harry and then reciprocating with a loving promise it was all going to be okay now, but Harry was a grown man now. They all still couldn't help envisioning this happening to their infant upstairs, but it truly was now his decision how he wanted to handle this. He didn't technically owe them anything.

Harry had kept his promise, and while he took one last hopeful look at his dad and waited for those hazel eyes to brighten when they met, he went back to the book. His dad may even still be mad at him, but at least they were okay now.

HPHPHPHPHP

  *Alright, real talk here folks. I did a lot of thinking over this topic, as it's such a widely debated thing amongst HP fans about what Harry really lived through during his time at the Dursleys. Personally, I think a lot of it gets exaggerated, but I never undermine that they did Harry some real harm. I kept myself to the facts and truths that I knew about, and I may have built this up a bit, but don't take my/ Harry's explanation as one that isn't terrible. What the Dursleys did to Harry was a lot more mental punishment than physical, making sure he felt as unloved as possible, which can do as much damage to you as a beating. Guess I don't really have anything else to say, mostly it turned into a big thing between him and James more so then what the Dursleys actually did, but I hope the build up to this scene was at least kind of worth it.

[kaseshipearth]

keep your chin up (someday there will be happiness again)

prompt fill for Anon: how about Stephen comforting Tony after a bad day and tony is just rly mad at himself for being stupid (in his opinion) and he wants to sleep but has nightmares and just needs a hug?

read it on AO3.

Stephen can’t help but smile when he hears the front door open. Tony had been at the compound for a couple of days, working hard on new prototype weapons and armor for the other Avengers. Once Tony got started on a project, it was hard to get him to stop.

After the defeat of Thanos a few years ago, Ross was able to negotiate terms with the Rogue Avengers to bring them out of hiding. There were months of long, boring meetings with representatives from countries around the world that had signed the Sokovia Accords to readjust the terms of the agreement with the Avengers’ help. Several times, Steve Rogers said something selfish that would set Tony off, and Stephen (who had started dating Tony not long after the battle on Titan) would have to step out of the room to avoid ripping his head off.

Stephen knew that Tony still had nightmares. Nightmares about the fight in Germany. Nightmares about the battle on Titan, of Thanos stabbing him with his own blade.

“Hi, babe. You’re a little later than expected,” Stephen greets as Tony shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over a chair. Stephen sets the spatula down and engulfs Tony in a hug, pressing a kiss to his temple. But, something seems off as they hug. Maybe it’s just in Stephen’s head, but he swears that Tony hesitates before wrapping his arms around Stephen, giving him a short squeeze.

“Hey,” Tony says, his voice tight.

Stephen’s brow furrows with concern immediately. He pulls away and gently takes Tony’s hands in his own. “Is something wrong?”

Tony sighs, pursing his lips together. “Just had a bad day, that’s all.”

There’s a tug at Stephen’s heart. After everything Tony has been through, he only deserves the best days, with hugs and laughter and light. With most of the Avengers staying at the compound now, he wonders whose room he’ll have to Portal into and threaten with mystic spells. ( Not that he’s done that before.)

Stephen smiles. “Well, dinner is almost ready. What do you say we eat, and then after dinner we drink some cheap wine and watch a terrible movie? I think we still have one more Austin Powers movie to watch.”

Tony shrugs. “First, we only have expensive wine in this house. Do you even know who I am?” Stephen chuckles lightly. “Second, no,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My day was really terrible. I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

Stephen frowns. “Okay, I'll turn off the stove and--”

“Stephen,” Tony interrupts, “I love you, but what I need now is a hot shower and alone time. Okay?”

He hates when Tony looks at him with That Look. A strange combination of sadness and desperation and disappointment. Stephen knows it isn’t directed at him, but he never likes seeing Tony like this.

“Okay. Just let me know if I can do anything.”

Tony offers him a weak smile. “You’re too good to me, you know that?” He steps forward and gives Stephen a quick kiss, grabs a glass of water, and heads to their room.

Stephen watches him as he goes, until he rounds the corner of the stairs and disappears from view. Then, he turns his attention back to the stir fry on the stove. He longs to help his husband, to figure out what’s bothering him and help him fix it. He wishes he could take all of Tony’s burdens from him and place them on his own shoulders.

Tony was so good. Too good for this world, truly. He doesn’t know how much he helped Stephen after his accident, after Dormammu, all of it.

After the defeat of Thanos, Stephen found himself longing to see the man again. One rainy night, just a couple of weeks after Titan, Stephen had made up his mind about going to the compound when there was a knock at the sanctum door. It was an emotional Tony, who told Stephen that Pepper had ended their relationship for good. Something about him never taking the suit off, despite her wishes. They ended up talking all night. Tony was like an open book, letting out all his pain and anxiety over a bottle of scotch. And surprisingly, Stephen, who took a long time to open up to new friends, found himself telling Tony about his trials as a Master of the Mystic Arts. He even told him about Dormammu, a subject he could barely bring himself to even think about but that plagued his dreams. Not to mention the horrors he was facing from other Masters, who were infuriated that he’d given up the Time Stone and wanted him stripped of his abilities (even though Stephen insisted he knew what he was doing, that giving up the Time Stone would allow Thanos to return to Earth, where Thor would behead him before he could snap his fingers).

That one night turned into coffee runs and dinners at local eateries, until Tony finally asked him to go on a real date. Stephen said yes embarrassingly quickly. Though they got off to a rough start, Iron Man was slowly capturing Stephen’s heart.

Is it odd that they bonded over similar tragedies, shared tragedies, and depressing life histories? Maybe. But Stephen knew from the moment Tony showed up on his doorstep that stormy night that he’d found a lifelong companion. They’d laughed and cried together, and now, five years later, they’re married and live in a lovely house on the lake (with nights spent between the compound and the sanctum). They have made so many wonderful memories together, but sometimes, days like this happen. Stephen hates it because most of the time, it’s Tony’s own inner critic who drags him down to this level.

Tony doesn’t know his own worth. And it sucks.

Stephen’s evening after that is fairly boring. He eats a little bit of dinner, serving Tony a bowl and covering it with foil for later (Tony sometimes snuck out of bed to eat in the middle of the night). Then, after an episode of Westworld, a quick Portal trip to the Sanctum to check in with Wong, and a couple hours of meditation, Stephen finally shuts off the lights downstairs and heads to bed.

As he’s brushing his teeth, he can’t help but stand in the bathroom doorway and stare at Tony’s sleeping figure in the bed. He hopes tonight is a nightmare-free and that Tony has a better day tomorrow. Then, he climbs into bed, gently kisses Tony’s cheek, and lets sleep overtake him.

Stephen wakes up to a trembling bed.

He frowns, his sleepy mind unsure what is happening, and turns to Tony, wondering if he’s feeling it too. He then realizes… Tony is causing the bed to shake, deep in sleep.

A nightmare.

A whimper escapes Tony’s lips as Stephen sits up, carefully shaking Tony awake. “Tony? Tony, wake up!” he says.

Suddenly, Tony bolts upright, almost knocking his head against Stephen’s, gasping for air. Unfortunately, this is a normal thing for both of them, so Stephen’s muscle memory kicks in naturally. He gently cups the sides of Tony’s face and turns his head so they face each other head on. “Breathe, Tony,” Stephen coaxes, his stomach tightening when he sees Tony’s eyes frantically darting around the room. “It’s okay, I’m here, just breathe.” Tony’s own hands clutch hard at Stephen’s wrists, but his breathing begins to slow. A few minutes later, he’s breathing normally again. Once he reassures Stephen that he's okay, Stephen readjusts the two of them so they’re leaning against the headboard, Tony’s head on Stephen’s shoulder, with Stephen’s arm draped protectively around him.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says eventually.

“You know you don’t have to apologize,” Stephen replies, kissing the top of Tony’s head. He lifts his hand and runs his trembling fingers through Tony's hair.

Silence passes over them as they stare out the window at the lake, the full moon’s light reflecting on the water’s surface.

“The kid and I got into a fight today,” Tony admits. “A bad one. That’s why I was upset earlier.”

Stephen frowns. “A fight?”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Peter heard that Norman Osborn escaped from prison and wanted my help going after him. I told him he should be studying and not playing the hero all the time, especially since this guy almost killed him last time they fought. Things just… escalated from there, and he left. This nightmare that I had, he’d gone after him anyway and I didn’t know and… he didn’t…” Tony stops, swallowing.

“God, I’m such an idiot sometimes. I want to help the kid, but I don’t want him getting hurt. He tells me to stop treating him like a kid but, he’s my kid, you know? Am I being selfish? Am I an idiot?”

Stephen shakes his head. “You are the furthest thing from an idiot. Tony, you have to stop being so hard on yourself. You said it yourself, he’s your kid. Some things may have been said, but it’s nothing you two can’t get over. You’re like his Iron Dad or something.”

“Oh, shut up,” Tony says with a laugh, giving Stephen a shove. He’ll take it--anything to cheer his husband up. To Stephen, Tony’s laugh is the most beautiful sound in the world.

“I say you call him tomorrow, apologize, and talk it out. Hell, I can come too. You know he loves me,” Stephen says. “Everything will work out. I know it will. That kid is too smart to let an argument ruin what you have.”

A moment of silence passes over them.

“You’re the best, you know that?” Tony says.

“I do know that, but I could always use reassurance.”

Stephen can hear Tony’s eyes roll in the dark. “I can’t believe I fell in love with you.”

“I love you too,” Stephen says.

The two heroes lay like that for a few more minutes before crawling under the blankets, cuddling close. Stephen wraps an arm around Tony’s middle, pulling him close to his chest, and together they slowly drift into sleep again.

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Coming Home - Harry Styles One Shot

Request: Harry and Y/N grew up together and are pretty close friends. They both always had a bit of crush/feelings for the other, but never actually dated. But maybe now they’re older that changes? 

**

Coming back home for any period of time was always something you looked forward too. Waking up in your old childhood bedroom, helping your parents make breakfast or dinner, walking around at all the awesome hangout spots you spent your childhood days at, but most of all coming back home was your favorite when you were there the same time as your best friend, Harry Styles. 

You and Harry were next door neighbors since you were about eight or nine. You thought he was annoying and he was, but he grew on you, and so did your friendship. As you both entered teen-hood, you started seeing your best friend as more than a friend, but you never told him of your feelings because one you weren’t exactly sure of them yourself and two you didn’t want to tell him only for him to say he didn’t feel the same way. 

And of course, you didn’t really the chance anyway because eventually he auditioned for the X Factor and he was thrown into the world’s biggest band. Now, he was no longer apart of that band, but he was just as big as a solo artist. Despite all of this, you two still remained close friends, which also meant your feelings did as well. 

But still, you never acted upon them. You knew Harry wasn’t shallow, but knowing who some of his ex girlfriends or at least girls he had dated previously, didn’t really give you a ton of confidence in pursing a relationship with him. It’s not that you didn’t think you were beautiful or good looking, but it was more the fact that they were famous and you weren’t. 

Well, you weren’t technically famous. You were a well known blogger and photographer, but you weren’t making millions. You had started a blog when you were in university, it was mostly about books you were reading or had read, your favorite music, etc. But then when you decide University wasn’t for you, you took up learning more about photography, which is what really put you on the map. 

**

You had arrived to your parent’s house while they were still at work. You ended up unpacking since you would be there for the next week. The weather was quite nice outside, so you decided to enjoy it. You grabbed your camera and headed out on a nice, leisurely walk. You had walked down to the pond that was near your house and started snapping photos along the way. 

Of course, you had one of those modern, expensive cameras, but the camera you loved using the most was the vintage camera Harry had given you for your birthday a few years ago. 

You loved coming to the pond because it was always private and you and Harry  had plenty of picnics and chats while throwing rocks into the water. There were birds flying over the water and you quickly started snapping away. You were so wrapped up and focused on what you were doing, you hadn’t heard the crunching of leaves and sticks behind you. 

In fact, you hadn’t realized someone was behind you until they poked your sides, causing you to whip around. Your hand stopped just a few centimeters from their cheek, when you realized it was Harry standing there with a smirk on his face. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snapped hitting his arm instead. 

“Ow!” He groaned rubbing his arm. “I’m sorry.” He laughed. 

You glared at him, “What are you even doing here?” 

“Weeellll, aren’t we miss fucking rude?” He said. “Here I thought you’d be excited to see me.” 

“I’d been more excited had you not snuck up on me like a fucking crazy person,” you mumbled. 

“I’m sorry,” he said opening his arms. 

You rolled your eyes wrapping your arms around his waist in a hug. He smiled kissing the top of your head. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be home?” You asked. 

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” he smiled. “I actually just pulled up and saw you making your way out here, so I followed you.” 

“That literally sounds like something a stalker would do,” you said. 

“Eh,” he shrugged. 

“How long are you here for?” You asked. 

“About two weeks,” he said. “It’ll be the last time I’m able to come home before tour starts. All the craziness for the starts soon, so I wanted to make sure I saw my Mum for a bit.” 

“Always the Mummy’s boy,” you joked. 

“Damn proud of it, too,” he smirked. 

You shook your head with a laughed, “Anyway, I’m happy you’re here,” you smiled. “I have missed you.” 

“What was that?” He smirked. 

“Oh piss of,” you rolled your eyes. “You know you missed me, too.” 

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he said. 

You smirked unwrapping your arms from around him and sitting down on the ground, while Harry joins you. 

“I never get tired of coming here,” you smiled. 

“Me either,” he said. “Sometimes when I’m really stressed, I wish I could just come here for a bit, you know.” 

“I do know,” you smiled. “But I do have to say, it’s weird coming here without you.” 

“I agree,” he nodded. 

A few moments of silence passed by, when Harry cleared his throat. 

You looked over at him, curiously, “Something on your mind?” 

He bit his lip and ran his hand through his hair, “There’s always something on my mind,” he laughed. 

“You know what I mean smart ass,” you rolled your eyes. 

“I want to tell you something,” he said. 

You turned to face him, “I’m all ears,” you said. 

“You are without a doubt my best friend,” he said. “One of the only people who has supported me and loved me and been there for me for ages. You’ve never looked at me different or treated me differently. I’m still just Harry to you.” 

“Always,” you smiled. “You never have to worry about that.” 

“I know,” he smiled taking your hand. “But there’s something I’ve been keeping from you since I was fourteen.” 

“Oh god,” you said. “What’s going on?” 

He took a deep breath, “I’ve always, sort of, kinda, always had a crush on you,” he blushed. 

Your mouth dropped as you looked at him, “Uh-what now?” 

He groaned running his hand over his face, “I have feelings for you. I’ve always had.” 

You hit his arm, “What the fuck, Harry!” 

“Ow! What?” He whined. “Why are you always hitting me?” 

“Because you’re annoying,” you groaned. “Why didn’t you ever say anything before now?” 

“I don’t know,” he blushed. “I guess.. I was just worried it would ruin our friendship or something.... and I guess I would correct since your first reaction is to hit me.” 

“Only because I’ve always had feelings for you, but never said anything because I never to the vibe that you liked me,” you groaned. “God, we could have been married with like three kids by now, had you said something earlier,” you joked. 

“Wait? You’ve liked me this entire time, too?” He asked. 

“Well, yeah,” you said. 

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” He asked. 

You sighed looking down. 

“Hey, you can tell me,” he said squeezing your hand. 

“It’s just... it’s stupid really, but I was comparing myself to the girls you’ve been with in the past, and I didn’t think I could be in the running,” you admitted. 

He sighed pulling you into his lap, “Why would you think that?” 

“Because I’m a girl and it’s what we do,” you mumbled. 

“Well, there’s no comparisons,” he said. “Because you’re beautiful, you’re amazing, you’re my best friend, you’re everything to me, etc, etc. I love you as my friend... and I’m pretty sure I love you as more than a friend, too.” 

“Wow,” you whispered. “I uh. I was not expecting you to say that.” 

“That makes two of us,” he whispered. 

“So, what does this mean for us, now?” You asked. 

“That depends,” he said. “On what you want it to mean.” 

“Should we give this go though?” You asked. “Is the timing even right? You said it yourself you’re going on tour in a few months.” 

“Y/N,” he said. “I’ve gone on how many tours in the past ten years and never once did we lose touch or go a day or two without talking. Why would that change this time?” 

“I don’t know,” you sighed. 

“Unless, you don’t want us to give it try,” he said. 

“I didn’t say that,” you said. “But I am a little skeptical. What if this doesn’t work out behind us... would we still be able to be friends?” 

“I don’t see why not,” he said. “We were friends before, why would that change?” 

“You’re right,” you sighed. 

“What was that?” He smirked. 

“Yeah, I’m not saying again,” you said. 

“Aw, come on,” he smirked. 

“Yeah, not gonna happen,” you said. “So, bugger off about it.” 

He laughed, “So, then does this mean what I think it means?” 

You turned to face him, “I guess it does,” you smiled. “Now, are you going to kiss me or what?” 

He smiled bringing his hands up your cheeks before pressing his lips against yours. 

**

Sooo... yeah... I’m not that happy with this update, but I don’t find it too terrible either. Hopefully you agree. Lol. Here’s to hoping I’ll be updating a little more now!